#so i just try to strew them around whenever i can

[joons]

trying to convince my cat that i don't actually have the power to make twisty-ties appear out of thin air. i'm sorry you lost it, just retrace your steps.

[angelsanddaisies]

Stablehand!Harry x Princess!Reader

Stablehand!Harry x Princess!Reader Part 3

Warnings: Mature content. Sexual Content. Swearing.

Word Count: 1.8k

Enemies to Lovers

Gist: Harry and Y/N feel the same way.

Read Part One & Part Two

Renamed: Love Alone

“I missed you. I missed everything about you. Your laugh. Your smile. Your humour. Your teasing. Your company. I didn’t realize how alone I was until I felt your absence. If you still want me, I’m yours.”

They held each other’s stare, letting Harry’s words simmer between them. Y/N got lost in his eyes that looked emerald green in the moonlight. She thought she knew all of his stares. His glare whenever she propositioned him, the slight tick in his brows when she teased him, or the way they would narrow on her when he was trying to figure her out. This was the first time she’d ever seen this look in Harry’s eyes. This sincerity. This passion. She’d never been looked at this way before. Like she was something precious.

Suddenly she felt nervous in his arms. Harry moved to brush his nose against hers, those eyes still holding her own. Harry’s lips met her own, tracing, feeling. Y/N pulled away slightly, her heart feeling as though it would hammer right through her chest.

“I will always want you, Harry.” She held his cheek, stroking, trying to communicate just how deeply she felt. That she wasn’t teasing. This was real. “Always.”

And then he kissed her. It wasn’t as harsh as before. This time it was all sweet caresses of tongue and little nibbles on her lips. He kissed her like she was something decadent, something to be savoured. She allowed his tongue to delve within, to sweep her up in a heady daze where she could only feel Harry, see Harry, smell Harry. Just Harry. She moaned, a sound so innocent, or so beautiful had never reached Harry’s ears before. He got closer, allowing her to feel some of his weight. The heaviness overwhelmed her, making her hot but also safe. He kissed her deep, her hair strewed across the grass beneath them.

His lips trailed lower, a path of fire followed to her neck where he sucked and bit until he found a spot that made her feel out of control with lust. He was so hard. His muscles strained beneath the tight grip of her fingers. “Oh, Harry....” She was whispering his name, praying he would show her how to cool this flame that had taken her over.

Harry’s lips moved lower, to her chest, mouthing the tops of her cleavage. He looked up at her, “Can I keep kissing you?”

“I’ll die if you don’t.”

He smirked, muttering, “So dramatic, princess.” He sucked spots onto the rounds of her chest while his hands had snuck their way up to her breasts. He held one in his large hand, playing, tracing the bud beneath the corset. “Can I take this off, darling?”

“Please.”

Harry loved how raspy her voice had gotten. How deep and sexy she sounded asking so politely for him to take off her clothes. Harry took his keys from his pocket and used the blunt knife to slice open the garment. He pushed her dress down, over her shoulders to bare her chest to him.

He paused in awe. His breath laboured around his words, “Gorgeous… You’re a dream.”

His mouth took one of her breasts while his hand occupied the other. He squeezed, sucked, making lewd noises that made Y/N burn between her thighs. Harry began to unconsciously grind his hardness against her.

Y/N tangled her hands into his curly locks, pulling him away with sloppy pop. He looked up at her, almost annoyed, as if she’d interrupted his meal. “Can I see you too?”

He smiled then. He lifted himself up, sitting on his knees straddling her. He unbuttoned his shirt slowly, allowing her to look her fill. Each button revealed more hair, more brawny chest, more muscle, more tan skin. She wanted to sit up. The urge to lick him the same way he did her consumed her. Harry’s hands stopped her, a strong grip on her hip and a palm on her stomach kept her in place.

When he discarded his shirt, he regarded her with a more serious expression. “If all you want to do tonight is kiss, then that’s all we’ll do.”

Y/N bit her lip, suddenly conscious of her nakedness and the cool breeze that made her nipples perk. As if hearing her thoughts, Harry’s gaze fell there, darkening. “I’ve been teasing you for a while. It would be… Well, silly of me not to– Not to do anything tonight.” All of Y/N’s teasing had been based on the things she’d heard other women say in books she’d read. Now that it was time to actually follow through, she was nervous. What if Harry already thought she was more experienced? Would he be disappointed?

“I’m sorry–

Harry silenced her with a kiss, the velvet lull of his tongue calmed her nerves instantly. He pulled away, cradling her face and playing with her hair. “You have nothing to apologize for. Whether you want to kiss, or touch or just lie here with me and look at the stars, it’s alright with me. Everything I do with you is perfect. You’re perfect.”

Y/N smiled, she stroked his cheeks, pulling him back down for another kiss. Feeling more confident, she rolled them over so that she straddled Harry. He had an adorable, surprised expression. His hair tussled from her fingers.

“Can it be my turn to kiss you?”

“Please,” he said.

Y/N began at his throat, looking for that spot that he found on her. When she found it, she smiled triumphantly against him, sucking on his skin, marking. He groaned beneath her, his hips restless enough to push up against her heat.

“Can we just touch each other tonight?”

“Please,” He said again.

She kissed lower, over his chest, his tummy, following the trail of hair that disappeared beneath his leather trousers.

Harry’s hands found her ass, pulling her forward to line her up against his cock. She looked down at him, dazed. He held her gaze as his hands found her hips and moved her, shifting her back and forth over his hardness. She moaned, the heat between her legs becoming molten lava. The leather of his breaches brushed against her core so deliciously. She was drowning in pleasure. Harry grunted beneath her, his hips moving up and down in time with the way his hands worked her over.

“Oh. Oh. Fuck. Y/N. You feel amazing. So warm against me.” They were both a mess of heavy breathing, cussing, groaning and moaning.

Y/N began to move faster than Harry’s guiding hand. She was shaking, sweaty, chasing that feeling of pleasure that coated every inch of her. It raised in her chest and expelled in each rough sound that escaped past her lips. Harry stared at those lips, the way he'd bit them swollen and plump. The way they would widen in awe when he thrusted particularly hard.

He wouldn’t last much longer. She looked too beautiful, riding him, her face angelic in the moonlight, her eyes so loving, trusting.

“Can I touch you, Y/N? I promise I’ll make you feel good. So good. I’ll stop if you don’t like it.”

“Please,” she whimpered. Unable to focus enough to utter any other words. Not when the feeling of his length charging against her over and over and over again left Y/N on the brink of something so exquisitely foreign, so exciting and wonderful.

Harry pushed her skirt up so it sat higher on her hips. He leaned up on his elbows, desperate for a look at where his hand found her. The moment his two fingers brushed against her core, Y/N let out a helpless wail. Harry sat up, pushing Y/N onto her back, in the grass.

“Aw. Pretty baby. Does it hurt? Should I stop?” His words were kind, patient even but his eyes were wild and all-knowing. Y/N shook her head frantically, not sure what to ask for but sure that she needed his fingers on her the same way she needed to breathe. He kept up his pace. His fingers glided back and forth easily with her slickness. Harry had never seen a sight more lovely than Y/N beneath him, her eyes so round, pleading. Her body moved relentlessly against him. He leaned down and took her breast in his mouth once again, this time sucking a bit more harshly. He was so hard he felt his heartbeat thrumming through his cock.

“Oh. Harry, please. I don’t- I can’t. Please.” He relished in her pleas for a release she didn’t know how to ask for. His chest burned knowing he would be the one to give it to her. Harry's fingers dipped into her then, while his thumb continued to stroke her button. She whimpered beneath him, unable to control the indecent sounds that came from within. He stroked her, inside, curling, pushing back in, slower, faster and then slower again. He was playing with her. All the while he watched her fall apart beneath him.

“Angel, you're so good for me. So tight. Wanna keep my fingers tucked deep inside you all the time. Would you like that, huh? If I could play with your cunt whenever I wanted?”

Y/N’s moans answered. He chuckled against her lips, his tongue licking at her mouth that hung open on sounds of pleasure. “Is that a yes, princess?” He hummed against her, his hand moving faster, his hips rutting against the ground. He looked down at where her little hole was swallowing his digits. Clenching around him each time he pulled back. His hands were drenched with her. She was obscenely wet, dripping down to his palm and the grass beneath them.

“You’re so messy, baby. That’s okay. I’ll clean you up after, if you let me.” He felt her coming close. The strain in her cries and the impossible tightness. “Will you let me lick you clean, angel? Huh?” He bit her lip, and gave her harsher thrust, causing her to cry out. “Answer me. Can I taste your cunt after you come?”

She was a mess of tears and yes, yes , yes! He kissed her softly then, rewarding her. “Good girl. My princess.”

She came then, her cry swallowed by his greedy mouth. She felt like her soul was spread out, her heart being hugged. She felt light and treasured. She was so caught up in the moment that she barely registered Harry’s cooing praise between his own grunts. Seconds later, he emitted a long, low sound that shook her in all the right places.

They stayed entangled like that for a bit, just breathing each other in.

“Was that okay, Y/N?” Harry kissed her forehead.

She smiled and nodded, feeling floaty. “I love it when you call me by my first name.”

He grinned, nuzzling his nose against her. “Y’know what I love? I love you, Y/N.”

AUTHOR'S NOTE

I get it if you hate me. I'm the worst. This is so late. I'm so sorry. Forgive me please. I'm not so good at juggling things yet.

This was my first time writing anything steamy so I would really appreciate feedback. Fr. Tell me if it sucks. I'll try and do better.

Anyways! That's the end of this series. I was gonna go longer but I'm not feeling it anymore idk. I'm thinking of doing a Chris fic next. Something off my AU list. Let me know if you have any ideas.

So much love, Daisy. xx.

TAGLIST

@happycupcakeenthusiast @tpwk-goldengirls @namelesssav

@elizabethrosecresswell @honoriab @madelynsweetstyles

[cartierbin]

request — hey! if you aren’t too busy with school and stuff could you make a d!lf hyunjin or felix and just make it super rough

『 pairing — hyunjin x reader

genre — smut + mafia lord dilf!hyunjin and his four year old daughter’s teacher + gunplay type shit

word count — 1.2k

notes — hope you enjoy this loves. 』

smut under the cut !

“you have someone who wants to see you, mr. hwang”. his assistant reassured, clutching her clipboard a little too tightly to her chest. the blonde haired man allowed the thick white smoke to rise from his lips and settle into the air around him. he closed a file on his desk, beckoning his hand towards the door. “let them in”. to look as well kept and intimidating as hyunjin looked, he was actually a soft spoken man. stern, but soft spoken. his office door swung open and in came a woman he thought he’d never see here. usually, when women came into office they only wanted one thing and one thing only. it never crossed his mind that his very own daughter’s teacher wanted that same thing. when you walked in you were timid. the way his blonde hair sifted over his eyes and how luscious he looked in his suit jacket and open dress shirt beneath it, with multiple necklaces dangling at the center of his chest. you hesitantly sat in the seat in front of his desk and tried to divert your gaze elsewhere. you didn’t want to come off more lustful than you already were. especially since you didn’t know your boundaries.

his eyes skimmed over your skin tight salmon colored dress, attentive to the way it hugged you in all the right places. “may I ask you what you’re doing here?”. he questions, assuming that you knew what he was talking about. you, his daughter’s teacher coming to seek him. “I heard the pay here was good. and you know my occupation pays very little. I need something to help me make ends meet”. he gives you an unsettling stare, folding his arms on the table. “do you know what you’re getting yourself into? this isn’t just some regular job. we kill people”. you nod nervously, “I know I know I just can’t find anyone else who pays just as good as you do. I really need the money”. he dropped his eyes again over your body, trying to figure out what a beautiful woman like you would do if you were to work for him. you were much too pretty to be in harm’s way. he leans back in his chair with another intake of his cigar, allowing the smoke to cloud over his eyes. "tell me. what's your prissy little ass going to do if you work for me? do you know how to shoot a gun? can you handle money well? are you good with drugs?". you swallowed, knowing in your heart of hearts that you have never done any of those things in your life. maybe handling money could suffice. you thought back to your teen years, when you were a cashier for a grocery store. as far as anything goes, that's the most experience you've ever had with handling money. then again, grocery store cash was never much. definitely wasn't the huge amounts of cash hyunjin was referring to. he could tell you were thinking to yourself. he could tell that you were indecisive. he could tell you were inexperienced. that was one thing that he never tolerated.

"looks like you came to the wrong job didn't you? if you're not a made man how will I hire you? did you come in here to waste my time?". you quickly shook your head no becoming frightened at the hint of frustration in his voice. he could've had any weapon behind his desk for all you knew. and you hadn't planned on coming here just to die. "no mr.hwang I don't want to waste your time at all. I just need money and these other jobs aren't going to help me. I'm willing to take whatever training I can". hell no. hyunjin would never put an inexperienced worker on the job. which is why when he skimmed your body again with his eyes, a smirk flickered at the edge his lips. he lifts himself up from his seat which startled you a bit. you didn't know what he was planning on doing but the sudden movement was unexpected. "I don't train. all my workers are experienced and it'll remain that way". as much as you wanted to pay attention to the sudden drop of octave in his voice, your eyes shifted to the silver weapon in his hand. your body immediately grew cold. he leans on the front of his desk and stares down at you, smirking. "but... since my wife doesn’t please me enough I think I can use someone like you”. he swiped his tongue over his supple lips and your chest flooded with nervousness. “use me?”. you could’ve sworn you heard the gun click at that moment. he leans down and presses his lips against your ear. “how would you like it if I hired you as my sex worker?”. you swallowed. not expecting those kind of words to even fall from his lips. you hummed, at the edge of an answer. you felt the cold metal of the gun sweep along your thighs, he started to rub small circles into your inner thighs with it. “don’t act like you don’t want it”. he breathed down the nape of your neck. you shivered, feeling trapped yet turned on at how heated the room had gotten.

you were still sitting when he steps behind you, clasping his fingers around your neck whilst dragging the gun between your bare legs. you panicked. never in your life have you had a gun so close to your body before, nevertheless touching your skin. your heart thudded around in your chest as your dress drew upwards exposing your panties. he dipped the gun into the front of them, sitting it right on top of your pubic mound. you flinched and gripped his forearm. “to be my sex worker means that I can use your body whenever and however I want. are you willing to be used?”. your breathing became heavier while you nodded and swallowed, praying that his fingers weren’t on the trigger. he inches the gun just at the entrance of your hole, he teased achingly slow like the sly man he was. he loved the way you gasped each time he pushed the barrel deeper, he loved feeling you shiver in his grip while he kept clicking it leaving you on the edge. on the edge of thinking that he was going to shoot it any second. he basked in your fear, it made his heart warm. “you’ll be paid a generous salary, thousands by the hour. however just know that if any information you’ve heard ever leave these walls, I’m not afraid to kill you”. you squirmed while he worked the gun, fucking your pussy with it deep and slow. you opened your thighs wider, strewing your head back just a tad. you heard everything he said, it was just difficult for you to reply. your choked up moans was making him hard. It was challenging for even his wife to do that. she hadn’t got him worked up in months. he felt the gun become slippery at how wet your were becoming. your hardened nipples perked straight up underneath the fabric of your dress and sheer bra. “do you understand me?”. he questions all while trying to seem unfazed. “yes, yes I understand”. you stuttered with your legs trembling around the gun. “you get wet so fast I already know I’ll be fucking the shit out of you”.

with the way he was aggressively thrusting the weapon in between your folds, he didn’t have to. your mouth gaped open in bliss. every time you thought he would slow down and have a little mercy he didn’t. that was just the nature of hwang hyunjin. your hips jerked onto the piece of metal desperate to cum. It was shameful how much your stomach churned at the pleasure you received from just a weapon alone. he could click it as much as he wanted but you grew fond of the thrill. the thrill that a loaded gun was sinking into your channel with a pleasure that had you seeing stars. you reached up to grip his forearm with two hands. “you like this shit don’t you? you like when guns play with your little pussy?”. you groaned a breathless yes, growing overwhelmed with how low his voice tone dropped. you needed to make ends meet but you never thought you’d be making it this way. at the hands of a mafia lord who only wants to use you. “you will come to me whenever I call you. whenever I need you I’m going to fucking wreck your body. are you willing to take all of that?”. you nod much more vigorously now with your lips sealed, and sparks flying through your torso. he tightens his grip around your neck and tilts your head back further until your eyes were feasting his above. “open your mouth”. you dropped your jaw, unsure of what he wanted until you saw a long string of saliva transfer from his lips to your tongue. “as long as you’re an absolute slut for me you’ll never struggle again”. he pumped the gun in and out of your wet hole until you were creaming down the front of it, your body spasming from the intensity of it all. he pulled it out of you, shoving the barrel between his lips to clean your mess. it was sexy the way he done it, his thick tongue swirling around the piece of metal.

“welcome to the family. I’ll call you my mistress”.

[deltas-writing-corner]

Tsukumo Yuki relationship headcanons

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: Tsukumo Yuki x reader

Author note: Tsukomo Yuki is the reason I love woman and she can crush me between her thighs send tweet

Warnings: Potential manga spoilers (?) | Mentions of s*x, but nothing too blatantly explicit. I would still prefer it if minors did not interact with this post in any way.

Yuki always asks the people she meets what type of woman they like. If someone were to ask that same question back to her, she’ll most certainly utter back your name as if it were an obvious response.

What’s not to love about you? You’re cute. You make her laugh. You cook for her because heaven knows she can't if her life depended on it. Most importantly, you keep her company due to the lack of curses she’s ever sent to exorcise. Traveling the world is fun and all, but it’s even more fun with you by her side!

You’re not a sorcerer. You can’t even see curses. Yuki is a childhood friend of yours and has kept you in the loop regarding the world of jujutsu sorcery since she started integrating into it. She thinks it’s important for you to know that someone like you, a non-curse user who has no control over the curse energy you create, should know what exactly your negative emotions can lead to. It’s not to make you feel bad or pin blame on you in any way. It’s her way of protecting you beyond physical means as well as a way of showing you that she places a great deal of trust in you regarding the nature of her line of work and her true goals.

Because she rejects the methods of the higher-ups and her ideology is more along the lines of putting an end to the creation of curses permanently instead of letting them manifest and dealing with them when they start causing profound trouble, you’re often the one that has to listen to all her new, sometimes overreaching, hypotheses now and then. You may even take part in her research, but she would never put you in any sort of harm! At least, not unless you give her the okay to. Be warned, if you give your blessing to be her little lab rat she’s prone to get carried away with her methods. Speak up if she’s doing something outrageous or if she’s making you uncomfortable. Otherwise, you might end up in some precarious situations.

As mentioned previously, Yuki isn’t sent out on missions that often, if ever. She instead chooses to travel in and out of the country, for the sake of her research as well as for the pleasure of it. Since she’s one of three, later four, special grade sorcerers her salary is rather tremendous. Unfortunately, her travels outside Japan are “unauthorized” and sometimes her funds get frozen by the higher-ups. Her quick solution to the matter is to fly back, take on a mission or two to get her funds unfrozen (and into your account because you’re her partner-in-crime) or even take on a mission to earn some more funds, and then you and her are right back to traveling the world again.

During one of these money replenishing heists, she met a kid that she took a particular interest in and wanted to mentor, Aoi Todo. It’s hard for most people to spark her interest to the extent Todo did, so you happily supported her endeavors and even met with her young pupil a few times throughout the years. Her methods of training are a bit....extreme, to put it lightly. You understand that holding back her punches will only hinder Todo’s progress instead of allowing him the ability to improve and push past his limits, but you can’t help but flinch over the large scar that marks his face whenever you briefly meet up with him.

Todo is eccentric, but so is Yuki. Perhaps not idol obsessed like Todo, but seeing the way he takes great care of his appearance and flaunts his body (during a battle even), he’s a near-identical clone of Yuki. She knows that she’s good-looking, and she will always flaunt this fact to anyone with working eyes, even you! Does it work every single time? Yes. Yes, it does.

Honestly, how can it not? She’s tall. She has a great butt. She drives a motorcycle. Her tight biker pants are your Achilles heels and she knows it. Sometimes she’ll wear them around the house just to flaunt her curves and other bodily goods, even if it’s the middle of the summer, the AC is broken and the pants are made of stuffy leather material. If it gets your face all heated up, she'll wear it.

The compliments she gets from strangers are nice and all, but it’s your reactions she truly cares about. You’ve been by her side through it all. You're still sticking with her even despite the fact that she’s constantly moving around and living a somewhat free-spirited lifestyle. You genuinely support and help her when almost everyone else has rejected her methods and ideals and brush her off as some lazy, outrageous-thinking woman. Really, you stole this woman’s heart just by letting her be herself, a lazy, outrageous-thinking woman.

Yuki is indeed lazy, to the point it sometimes affects you and your shared apartment is left in a week-long accumulated mess. I’m talking clothes strewed about and spilling out the already full laundry basket, sink filled with dirty dishes, houseplant half dead due to insufficient watering, and little dusty bunnies in the corner of the room. Whenever you try to get around to getting your living space in order, she always drags you back to the bed with her either to nap some more or for a quick round of sex that leads to more napping. Eventually, you have to beat her with a pillow and threaten her with no sex for a certain period of time to get her to back off, which always works without fail.

If you really hold the “no sex until...” ultimatum over her head long enough, she’ll even pitch in and help you clean. But to be honest she kinda sucks at it so it’s sometimes better to just have her sit on the sidelines while you do all the work. She’ll jokingly suggest you clean with just an apron on (because she’s a freak like that), but you haven’t taken her up on the suggestion just yet. It’s mostly because you’ll use the “naked apron” method to further insinuate her punishment if your usual threat begins to lose its potency (because you are also a freak like that).

She’s a bad sleeping partner. Not only does she hog all the blankets and pillows, but she even stretches out her limbs over the entire bed. This usually leaves you curled up in a corner shivering your ass off until you either fall asleep via exhaustion or move to the couch. If you go to the couch, she’s 99.9% likely to wake up and join you shortly after, where she’s less of a hassle to deal with because of the limited space.

She’s a great big spoon, which is actually one of the ways you later use to solve her troublesome habits as once she latches onto you, she will not let go the rest of the evening. Unfortunately, she also snores terribly loud, but it’s nothing earbuds can’t fix.

Some might think she sleeps in something flattering, maybe even a bit scanty. That couldn’t be any further from the truth. Her pj’s are decades-old shirts and gym shorts that she never got around to getting rid of. If not that, she’ll sleep completely naked and she doesn’t care if someone walks in on her with the covers off. She’ll only ever wear lingerie or other promiscuous pieces of clothing if she has intentions of getting between your legs and rocking your world for the rest of the night.

I think it goes without saying that she looks great in lace, but as hot as she may look, she really likes seeing you dressed up in something risque as well.

If you’re female, she sometimes likes to wear matching lingerie sets with you, but her favorite material to see you in is leather, especially those harness-styled sets that squeeze your flesh all around.

If you’re male, she’s a complete sucker for a man in a clean-cut, custom-tailored suit and will take it off as soon as you put it on. Hope you don’t mind losing a button or two, because she will pop them off for sure when she rips your dress shirt off of you.

To all my gender-neutral folks, It’s never too late to whip out that naked apron I mentioned earlier! Or a leather jacket. Everyone looks great in a leather jacket!

Yuki’s diet is fucking terrible. You’re a decent cook, but despite this, all she ever seems to want is greasy take-out food that makes you wonder how the hell she’s still so fit after witnessing her down three chicken burritos in one sitting. Even when the two of you are abroad and are able to try out different types of cuisines not so readily available in Japan, she’ll still want to go out to a fast food joint that you can easily find everywhere. You’ve tried to get her to branch out of her comfort zone and eat somewhat healthier alternatives of her favorite foods, but so far you’ve gotten mixed results.

In summary: Yuki is a pretty outgoing person and sometimes can be a bit of a hassle to deal with, but she’s clearly ambitious and moves to the tune of her own beat. Her goal of finding and effectively eliminating the source of all curses is a testament to the fact that she wants to save future generations from having to carry the burden sorcerers have been carrying for thousands of years. Her goals are not only for the sake of the people who will come after her, but also for the sake of her future with you. You’re someone she genuinely cares for and wishes to spend the rest of her life with, evident by the numerous times she’s come clean to you about her fears of you dying when she isn't around to protect you or of her dying and leaving you behind to mourn during late-night pillow talks in hotels or in your shared home. A future where you and her can travel the world and truly take in and enjoy the sights and wonders instead of searching for an answer to one of the world’s greatest phenomenon is a future worth fighting for, even if she’s met with some pushback or the end goal seems like nothing more than a pipedream at times. So long as you’re there with her to see her research bear fruit, she’ll keep testing and coming up with new methods to eliminate curses permanently, no matter the extremes her research takes her to.

[traumxrei-archive]

its me again with the arabic lyric and poetry stuff , but honestly what hurt me the most was finding out that both "ana wa leila" and "mustaqil" were based on true stories

"mustaqil" takes place in palestine during one of the many wars for the land , where the poet's lover dies on her way to give him something at the border. he watches as she takes her last breath , for his sake. " strew your hair around me , strew. and let us spend the night of a lifetime together. that's how my death becomes astonishing. hug me, kiss my eyes and go on." his lover , souad , was known to have beautiful long hair and scholars claim that he spoke at some point to his friends about how he loved the way that it would embrace him whenever he embraced her.

and "ana wa leila" took place during the arab romanticism and colonial period at one of the many arts schools in arabia. the poet wanted to marry leila , so he promised her that when he got rich enough to support her , he'd marry her. she came from a prestigious family , so much so that when the poet made his goal a reality , she had already been betrothed to another. he preformed his poem to at a competition for the school and both leila and the man she was betrothed to were moved to tears. while he cried after barely making it through the poem , the poet was asked to repeat the beautifully solemn words he wrote for the crowd. if i remember correctly , he never found love again.

at the moment im trying to learn italian and french so i can read those poems as well ! i do hope you the best on your literary journey <33

(arabic lyrics/poetry talks !!)

hello hello !! nice of you to come here to crush my heart into little pieces again /j for legal reasons that's a joke, it's nice to hear from you hehe

AHDHSFJDFH *SLAMS HAND INTO TABLE* MUSTAQIL I'M- i'm so sad ? that's it i'm just sad, i can'ttttt- that gives a brand new meaning and perspective to it. the whole time i thought that it was him dying and her comforting him through it, but turns out it was the other way around. it breaks my heart that the last few lines were probably the things that she said to him as they spent their last night together,,,, "i'm growing tired and my eyes need to close" aahhh god the embracing with the hair part................. romance was invented when the broken hearted took up their pens as swords, laying their devotion and longing out in bloodied ink just for a chance that their beloved would stay.

aghhhhh leila !! *shakes fist* but i can kinda understand, back then it was common practice to marry whoever could provide for you, no matter if it was love or not. i feel so bad for our poet.... it probably took him so long to gather all his riches and to gain as much prestige in the world of literature to have enough money to finally face her again. he probably thought of her constantly when times were hard and everything....only to find out that she was taken by another man :'))))) the thought of him performing this poem to the school, baring his bleeding heart in carefully spun verses as the object of his affections and her betrothed watched on.... your honor i am nothing short of devastated.

thank you so much for taking the time to share these stories with me ! they really helped add another layer to the poems and lyrics that i've already read and i'm sure i won't be forgetting about souad and leila and the men who love them any time soon. i wish you the best of luck on your italian + french studies !! and you're welcome to drop by an ask or a dm whenever you'd like to recommend any poetry / songs to me :D my doors are always wide open hehe

[certifiedskywalker]

Sometimes, Love Means Leaving - Klaus Hargreeves

Anonymous said: Hello.... may I please request a Klaus Hargreeves x Reader? Your writing is beautiful and I cant stop reading your Klaus posts! I was thinking maybe the reader and klaus have been together for a long time and when she passes away in an accident klaus stays clean enough to conjure her to try to keep her around and be able to physically touch her again? (like he did with ben) i hope this makes sense.... thank you :)

fabimgc said: Hii, could you do a one shot Klaus x reader, where the reader has powers but died in a mission saving Klaus and Klaus is trying to see her but cant? Like Angst with a fluff ending if you can thankss❤️

AN: this story takes place BEFORE Season One of The Umbrella Academy. I hope you like this!

He felt awful; worse than the day you left. Worse because, when Klaus closed his eyes, he could see your face. You were so close to him, painfully so, and yet he couldn’t quite reach you. The aching in his stomach pulled him back to reality every time. 

“C’mon, Klaus, there are better ways to do this.”

“Shh, jus’ shhh,” Klaus whimpered, opening his eyes just enough to glance at the phantom visage of his brother. In his mostly-sober state, Ben appeared more in focus. Light and shadow seemed to meld around him in a way that was more natural. For a moment, Klaus thought his long dead brother was really, truly, there. 

“You should have stayed in re-”

“O-oh shit! Peanut gallery,” Klaus groaned, “you need to shhh!” Weak and stumbling, Klaus moved to stand. He pressed his shoulder to the wall, the plaster cooling his searing, sweaty skin. The sharp contrast was shocking to him at first but when he rested his throbbing temple against the wall, he sighed in relief. “Oh, yes. That’s better.”

Klaus let his eyes close to savor the feeling. In the dark behind his eyelids, he was weightless. Then he heard it again. Only sirens at first, high-pitched and ringing in his ears. His heart began to pound as he was thrust back into the memory. Seconds pass and the sirens turned to faint beeping, then a dull, enduring tone. Finally, mournful tune. Violins, piano, he couldn’t tell. Klaus only knew the melody from your funeral. 

With a gasp, Klaus opened his eyes and crumpled to the floor of the hotel room he had rented for the evening. The carpet was rough against his skin but he could have cared less. Klaus was too busy trying to calm his breathing, still his heaving chest. 

“Klaus,” Ben whispered, kneeling down beside his brother. For a moment, he thought Ben was going to reach out and stroke his hair. It something you used to do when Klaus, in an attempt to avoid the ghosts, went too far on a bender. But, Ben seemed to back down, sit back on his knees and watch him with worry in his eyes. His pity stung.

“Please go,” Klaus wheezed, letting his eyes close.

“I’m only here to-”

“Ben. Go.” Klaus opened his eyes again, “you’re not who I want here.”

Hurt washed over Ben’s face but he stood up nonetheless. “I know you’re grieving, that you’re in pain, but that doesn’t mean you get to be a dick to the people who care about you.”

Before Klaus could snap a witty comeback or apologize, he wasn’t sure what he wanted to say really, Ben was gone. Klaus was alone again, in pain again, and he could feel familiar tears well up in his eyes. All he wanted was you but you were gone and he was, seemingly, still too high to conjure you presence. His head ached with longing and withdrawal.

Frantic for comfort, Klaus thought of you and the last time he tried to get sober. It had all been in an attempt to get you to stop worrying about him. You had come home to Klaus passed out, slouched over the toilet bowl, barely moving. It had scared you so much. Klaus didn’t want to scare you so he tried to get clean. 

It was a long stretch of days. Nights were spent in bed or sprawled out on the bathroom floor with blankets strew around your bodies. You would stroke his hair, read to him, in the hopes of luring him to sleep. Klaus could still feel your fingers working the knots in his curls; every some often your fingertips would brush along his hairline.

In the mornings, you would make breakfast together. Klaus would insist on everything greasy and too-sweet pastries from the local bakery. Most times, you would compromise with eggs or toast or fruits. On the mornings after a good night, when Klaus felt most sober and you were happy, you would walk, hand-in-hand and make a day of going to the cafe. Those day-long dates felt so distant now, so muddled by drugs and the passage of time. 

“Y/N….” Even your name, falling from his lips, felt different. He screwed his eyes shut to keep the tears at bay.  “I miss you. Please...”

Silence greeted his plea. Deafening, heartbreaking silence, and then...

“Miss me? I’m always here.”

Klaus’ eyes flew open at the sound of your voice. There you were, crouching down at his side, eyes meeting his the moment they opened. You smiled and Klaus scrambled to sit up. He let out an almost crazed laugh. He had finally done it.

“Y/N,” Klaus reached out, but stopped himself. He didn’t want his hands to go through you like they did with Ben. It would be another reminder that you weren’t truly here. “I-I…”

“You did it,” you gleamed, “you got sober.”

“Y-yeah,” Klaus was grinning now, “I did. It only took like four ye-”

“Hey, no. Be kind to yourself, this is a process. Especially when you’re doing it by yourself like you had, have been.” Klaus could see the warning in your eyes before you continued to speak. He raised his hands and shook his head.

“I don’t want to waste time with a lecture. I know I need help but right now I,” he met your eyes, “I just want to be with you.”

“Klaus,” your voice was low and your hand shifted to rest on the floor between the two of you. So close yet still so terribly far away. “If you die, we won’t get more time like this.”

He fell quiet at that. You were right, he knew that much, and it made his chest ache. After your death, all Klaus wanted was to see you again. He hadn’t thought about anything else, save for what he would say to you if he ever got sober enough to conjure. 

“I love you, Y/N.” He met your gaze and felt his heart lurch in his chest. There, he saw the soft smile he had missed spread along your perfect lips, lips he craved to kiss but couldn’t. 

“I love you too, Klaus. That’s why you need to take care of yourself. I want to keep loving you, even if I’m not really here.” You leaned closer to him, “you still have to live your life.”

“I can conjure you now, whenever, like Ben and I-Ben. Did you hear what I…”

“I did,” you admit. “You know he was just trying to help.” Klaus nodded and let his eyes fall to the floor where your hand was still. Small but there, flecks of blood stood out against your skin as evidence of your accident. He swallowed hard before looking back up at you.

“You’re not staying are you? Not like him?” You curled your lips together and shook your head. Klaus nodded again, bitterly this time, and let his tears fall freely.

“I can’t,” you whispered, “not if you’re going to move on. You deserve to move on, Klaus, to live. I can’t, not really, not anymore.”

“But you love me,” Klaus whimpered. There was no use in hiding his tears anymore.

“I do,” you replied, “so much, Klaus, and this hurts me. I don’t want to see you like this.”

“When you love someone you stay with them. Why aren’t you staying?” Klaus was desperate, his hands moved up to his hair where his fingers pulled on the dark strands. 

“I already left this...plane,” you gesture to the room around you both, “but I never left you, Klaus. Not for a second.” You scoot along the carpet before you’re sitting before him. You’re so tantalizing close that Klaus swore he could feel your body heat for a second, smell your shampoo. Though that could not be true. “I’ve always been, and always will be, right here.”

Suddenly, Klaus feels a warmth spread through his chest. When he looked down, he finds your hand there, right above his heart. Your fingertips glow in a way he had never seen a ghost’s fingers glow before. At first, it scares him. 

Then your free head reaches up, strokes his hair and brushes along his scalp. A calm, a peace he hadn’t felt in a long time washed over him.

It was the peace Klaus felt walking with you to the bakery down the street from where you lived in the city. The same one he felt listening to you talk about your family, about school, about work; he felt it in your voice. Peace came with kissing you, holding you after he was released from the hospital after that first close call. How happy he had been to hold you again.

How happy he was to be holding you again, now. Klaus lunged towards you, wiry arms wrapping over your shoulders and pulling you close. The embrace was tight and Klaus felt everything he had been holding in go; like how he would have to let you go.

“I’m so sorry, so sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Klaus,” you said, clutching the back of his shirt. Suddenly, your fingers slipped through the material and you began to pull away. The light in your hands was beginning to fade and, as you sat back, Klaus watched, terrified.

“I love you, please don’t…”

“I love you too, Klaus. You were my unfinished business,” you leaned towards him as the light worked its way through your form. “I’ll always be here.”

With one final movement, you pressed your lips to Klaus’ and he felt his whole body go numb. He felt as if he were floating, made of the same light that was whisking you away to the next plane. Klaus knew, in those precious seconds before he opened his eyes again, that he would see you once more. He would, but not yet.

When Klaus opened his eyes, you were gone. Last, fluttering speck of light had taken your place. Stinging tears flowed from his eyes but his shoulders didn’t feel as heavy. Withdrawals had run the course or perhaps the disappearance of his full-body ache was your doing. He would never know for certain. 

Slightly breathless, Klaus pressed his back against the wall. His head fell back and, with a dull thud, it hit the wall as well. His skin, his lips seemed to tingle from your ghostly touch. It was the first time that had happened before. Perhaps dear-old-dad had been right: there was more to his powers than he realized. But, in that moment, Klaus was too overwhelmed to think any further on the subject.  

“You alright?” Klaus looked up and locked eyes with his brother. Ben, all dressed in black, looked down at him worried. 

“I’m sorry, Ben,” Klaus murmured. Ben nodded and walked over. His slid down the wall to sit next to his sweat-drenched, chest heaving brother. 

“I’m sorry too.”

Klaus smiled then and, for the first time in a while, he felt like happiness was possible. His chest swelled at the feeling and, for a split second, Klaus swore he could feel your hand run through his hand one last time. 

[zhonglishrine]

Between The Lines

Pairing: Dazai Osamu x Reader Word Counts: 3.5k Note: Dedication to @yokelish​ -senpai uwu <3 **It’s about a girl who’s hopelessly in love— maybe not— with bandaged bastard. Why am I doing Dazai and not my beloved Gogol? because SENPAI that’s why, haha ily <3 and thank you so much for @soukokuwu​ for editing and proofread this one cringy fic! <3

You entered your apartment. You didn’t even bother to check the time, you just knew it was later than when you usually got home. The sun was setting; the sky was painted in beautiful different shades of gold, but all you saw were the dark clouds casting gloomy shadows. Dragging your feet, you closed the door. Did you even lock it? Not that you bothered to check. You were too tired to care or even think of it anymore. Every breath you took felt so heavy and you were exhausted from working long hours. Every day it was the same thing on repeat. Every move you made felt so strained and the bag you carried felt like a burden. You flung it on the floor and started undressing, strewing your clothes aside, and entered the bathroom.

You turned on the tap and let it slowly fill the bathtub, impatiently getting in even before it was full. You felt the cold water against your skin and watched the bubbles forming near the mouth of the tap. In contrast to the quiet surroundings, the thoughts in your mind were deafening, not allowing for a moment of relaxation. But you weren’t surprised. There was never a break given from such intrusive thoughts. How you wished you could get rid of them, how you wished it was as simple as dirt being washed away, but no matter what you did they stayed like a stubborn stain. Why did you have to feel this way? It only served to hurt you more inside. And the worst part is? You knew better, and yet there was nothing you could do about it. It felt like there were thorns wrapped around your heart, painfully digging into it each time you breathed. Ironically, what made you feel like dying, was also the one thing that reminded you that you were alive.

But it felt so lonely, so unfair, for you to be the only one feeling this way.

How you wished things were different from the start, but now you were the only one left to handle the consequences. You loved someone too hard, and now you were paying the price for your futile pursuits.

*****

With eyes as dark as the dead of the night, he drew you in from the first time you met; an irresistible attraction that pulled you in and eventually crushed you with its weight, leaving you behind in the rubble once it exploded. You thought you had met your ideal man at last. He was handsome, charming, funny.  Even though you didn’t know him long, you believed he could be the one. Or at least, you thought so.

He seemed to be interested in you at first, as though he was curious to know everything about you when you first joined the Armed Detective Agency. There had been a vacancy for a clerk, and you had gone for the interview the moment you saw the notice.

You were nervous even before the interview started. You couldn’t even get much sleep the night before. They had told you that the President was not in yet and brought you to see him instead. Your heart was pounding erratically by then. If this person was filling in for the President he must be important; he must have a vital role in the agency, one of high authority.

“So tell me, one interesting fact about yourself.” Dazai was the one who asked that.

Anxiously tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear and biting your lips, you answered him with as much confidence as you could muster. You were saying it with a serious face, but all you got was Dazai laughing at your answer, wiping at fake tears. What? Did you say something funny? You were confused, unamused. But he merely welcomed you and said that you passed. Just like that, you became one of them.

It wasn’t easy to adjust to the work environment at first, but they were all nice and Dazai had been the one tasked to guide you, much to the disagreement of his partner. But it didn’t matter, because before you knew it, you were already attracted to him.

Dazai always wore bandages, covering his forearms, even his neck. Where else he had it on you didn’t know, but it definitely wasn’t normal. You wondered why he wore them at first, but you came to learn that he was a ‘suicidal maniac’, or so Kunikida called him that. You felt conflicted about it, given how comedic he made it seem. But you knew it had to be deeper than that. You could see it in his smiles, they felt empty. You could hear it in his laughs, they sounded hollow. It was all a mask; an illusion, something that he created to shield his true self; something to manipulate people into thinking that fake, comedic Dazai was the real Dazai. Though, if you were completely honest, you knew nothing about who he really was, nothing about his past, and even his present seemed murky. He never let anything personal about himself slip through his mouth. Dazai calculated everything - his steps, his speech, his body movements, even. You were beginning to realize that you would never be able to understand the brunette at all, but of one thing you were sure: you had fallen for him, and it was too late to turn back.

The line between admiration and infatuation is obscure. A simple, innocent feeling can turn into one of obsession and possession just like that. A simple, innocent feeling can turn into some sickening emotion that some people can’t handle logically. All rationality will dissolve and dissipate like froth in the vast ocean until there is no other choice but to drown oneself in the sea of madness. All because of love, that which makes us blind; a concept that distorts nearly all rationality. Without restrictions or self-control over it, the one madly in love would ultimately be driven to self-destruction and despair if their feelings go unreciprocated.

And it was unfortunate then, if you already knew of the consequences but yet you fell for the trap anyway. You were already in too deep - too deep in these feelings that held your heart hostage and suffocated you with its strong grip; these feelings that rendered you breathless as you struggled to pine for something you couldn’t have. It felt like it was draining the life out of you like it was sucking your soul dry. It felt like stretching out for a mirage of an oasis after an endless chase in a scorching desert, only to find that in the end, it was yet another hopeless endeavor.

Yet, no matter how futile it always seemed, you were too blinded by love to learn your lesson, continuing to be hopelessly in love with Dazai, letting him lead you on, time and time again. You clung on to every hope he held out to you, no matter how flimsy it was. You wanted him to look at you and you alone, to feel the same way you felt about him. Something told you it was the same as asking for the impossible, but you ignored that voice in your head each time. Just like how you ignored it when it told you the brutal truth - that Dazai was not yours and never would be. Still, it didn’t stop you from trying for him. Your heart longed for him, it prayed for his love each night before you slept. He was the only thing on your mind, etched into your heart and flowing in your bloodstream. You knew not what life would be without him. Your love for him consumed you; you would do anything for him, even if it meant pulling a knife against your throat to prove it.

Before you met him, you had nothing; no ambitions - you lived your monotonous life, just going with the flow. If you hadn’t gone out that day, if you hadn’t seen the poster about the job vacancy, you wouldn’t be where you are right now. You would probably just rot away at home with no job, no will to live, and no hope for tomorrow. Your life was entirely empty and meaningless. But the moment you met him, you found a reason; a purpose. He filled the void in your heart even when you thought it wasn’t possible. Dazai is completely the opposite one, and it’s funny how he was the one to give you a reason to live, when he couldn’t even find one himself; when he was the one with the hopeless and pessimistic outlook on life; when he was the one that wanted to die.

Dazai was the only one who saw through you. He was the only one who called you out on it - for being a people pleaser, for being pretentious and superficial with everyone. It was the first anyone had done that to you. It made you feel offended, exposed. Because it was true. What a hypocrite you were, hating that Dazai put up a comedic facade only to put up one of your own. You acted the way you thought people wanted you to, and you threw your real feelings away in the process. It was disgusting, really, how easily you were able to put on a smile and spout sugar-coated words just to appease other people’s egos. You felt a little quiver in your heart when Dazai pointed that out to you. Was it out of fear of being exposed? Or maybe, just maybe, it was because you finally met someone who understood you.

“Senpai, I love you.”

“I know~”

You could feel the butterflies in your stomach when Dazai responded to your little confession with a playful smirk. You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling and blushing and feeling exactly like a high school girl giddily in love. It was fleeting happiness that you hadn’t felt for a long time. You only said such things when no one else was around like it was a sort of secret routine between you and him, and you wanted to keep it that way.

Just between the two of you.

It wasn’t wrong to hope, right?

*****

You always looked forward to talking with him and found yourself searching for his figure whenever he wasn’t around. This was all part of your downfall. It was little things, like this little routine you had with him, and the feelings of hope you tied to him, that would ultimately cause it. You needed his constant attention, getting all clingy and possessive whenever someone else would try to get close to him. You texted him every single day to ask about his day, getting upset over the smallest things like not getting a reply or when you were ignored. It felt incomplete to you if you hadn’t heard or seen him for even a day. You’d always try to get a hold of his whereabouts and would constantly be worried about his absence. You got attached way too much and got too emotionally dependent on him, and you fooled yourself into thinking it was all out of love.

You fell for Dazai too hard, and it wasn’t something you could easily recover from. Seeing him was like having a fever dream. He was all you could think about, and what you centered your life around. Every aspect of him and his life piqued your interest. You even fantasized about a life with him, to be together with him, physically, emotionally. It slowly turned into an obsession, and you weren’t totally dense. You knew how unhealthy it was.

You were no Snow White and he was no Prince Charming, but if given a choice, you’d still consume the poisonous apple and risk your own life if it meant he would save you and love you for the rest of his life. You’d do anything to prove that you loved him. Even if it meant gouging your own heart out and carving his name on it, even if you had to bleed out and let your bones turn to ash, or even if you had to be buried alive. You would do it. But despite all you would do, all you would get was his signature head-pat, as if he didn’t take you seriously and never would. As if you didn’t know already, he would never love you back, or do as much as you would for him. You thought you were fine with it, content to be in this position, with being just his friend, but you weren’t.

How could you be fine when you felt anger just seeing him talk to someone else? How could you be fine when you felt the anger boiling up as he was flirting with other people? How could you be fine when he gave his attention so freely to anyone else but not you? It drove you to the brink of madness and frustrated you to no end because it was as if he did it intentionally, knowing the fact that you would be jealous. And the fact that you couldn’t do anything about it but accept it left you exasperated. It almost drives you crazy. But you were still sane enough to control your impulsive thoughts. Or else, you were tempted to get rid of anyone who tried to get in your way. He was like a poisonous drug, consume too much and you would drown yourself in its toxins, losing yourself in the process. But there was no one else to blame. After all, it was your decision to love him despite all the red lights you saw; the warnings other people gave you.

How silly of you, to turn a deaf ear to their words. You thought you knew better but how wrong you were. You couldn’t see it yourself - how you started losing your mind the closer you got to Dazai Osamu. You didn’t see how your friends started to be concerned about your well-being, a consequence of always putting Dazai first. And it’s always Dazai this and Dazai that - he was all you could talk and think about. It started as a crush at first, but now it just became overbearing. And you know you were being selfish for wanting him all to yourself.

Dazai was the prime example of how you wouldn’t always get what you wanted in life. It was nice to be observed by him, and he himself was endearing to watch, but trying to embrace him was like trying to embrace mist, it would just slip out of your grasp, and never be within your reach. Chasing him was like running in circles, and it was as though something kept tripping you, making you fall over and over again, but you were too stubborn to give up. Dazai always seemed close to you, almost within an arm’s reach - but yet he appeared so far. It was like a distance you would never be able to close. But then again, the distance between you and him never existed. Because you never had a chance with him in the first place. It was all but a fragment of your imagination.

But still, you continued with your routine.

“I love you, senpai.”

And he always said the same thing, “I know.”

But did he really? It wasn’t as throwing it around for you. He may be used to it, but you weren’t. How could you even begin to explain how much he meant to you? He already had your heart, it already belonged to him, and he could crush it anytime he so pleased, and yet he didn’t. He did something much worse. He did nothing. It was like he didn’t care, like it never mattered at all to him, no matter how many times you confessed. His answer was always the same. Maybe if you put more feelings into it - would he finally understand? Would he finally stop taking it so lightly? You were past the point of being embarrassed. You didn’t bother to hide your feelings anymore. You felt like you had to show more, just to get him to understand. After all, why wouldn’t he say anything else? It felt like a hopeless desire, but still, you wished for it anyway. For anything but that same, mundane ‘I know’. You wanted to cross that imaginary line that separated your heart from his, but the barrier always stood strong and it’s impossible to breach.

He wouldn’t let you in no matter how hard you tried. And you were slowly losing your mind and you couldn’t take it anymore. You wanted - needed - him to know. You were desperate but the words you want to say always stuck in your throat each time you tried to bring it out. You don’t want to make him overwhelmed, in fear of losing what you have now. Even if it just one side, you can’t help it, you can’t stop it no matter how hard you tried. It’s easier said than done. Your friends think it was better for you to let him go, that you don’t deserve to hurt yourself and deserved better. They told you to wake up from this fever dream and move on. But you know, even if you try, you will always come back for him. Again and again. No matter how he appeared to be with you, or what persona he created, he is still the same person. The one that you were in love. And it has taken deep root in your heart now.

“Senpai… I’m in love with you.”

Hopelessly. Helplessly. I’m drowning in it. I can’t live without you, do you know that? I would do anything for your sake. You are my life, you are my love. You are my pain and my relief. You are everything to me. Even if we don’t have any significant relationship, I still can’t afford to stay away from you for even a moment. I live for you every day, my time and heart are devoted only to you. No moment is ever complete without you. Your name is etched into each breath of mine. I have lived only for you and I am prepared to die for you. Because it is you. Only you. I have loved you so much. And I will continue to love you dearly. You are all that I want. And it’s not solely due to my obsession that I’ve come this far. I genuinely feel for you. You are the only one who can make me feel this way. I love you. I love you. I love you. I really do. And it hurts. It hurts. It hurts. Because I can't find it in myself to express all of this to you.

His expression subtly changed. He wasn’t surprised by what you said, no. Dazai knew of your feelings, but hearing it with such a resolution from you was a different thing. Your love was there. It was evident in your eyes as you kept looking at him, unwavering. Perhaps, he could just say he didn’t care for it and one day it might disappear. Everything was fleeting after all, even love. But would your feelings go away so easily?

“That’s unfortunate, for you…”

“I know,” you replied, wincing at the familiar sound of his signature words coming from your mouth. Even if he didn’t point it out, you knew it already. You already knew it from the start.

“I am so sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?”

“Isn't that a thing people say in unfortunate situations?” He chuckled at his own nonchalant response, hoping to keep the conversion light. But you could say that it just hurt you instead. Like a needle is pricking your heart when you heard his response. 

“Well, that's true. But saying sorry would only make me look pathetic here. Not like I wasn't one already,” you said, an air of self-deprecation surrounding you. How unfortunate, indeed, for you, though you had accepted that fact a long time ago. You could just laugh at how stupid this all was and cry at its sheer ridiculousness. But now it was nearly impossible for you to act like you were fine anymore. You tried to act tough but really, you were falling apart inside. He tore you piece by piece and yet he wasn’t even aware of that. 

“I’m sorry.” Again, he apologized. He sounded more sincere this time. Was it truly genuine, or was this another lie coming out of his facade? Frankly, it didn’t matter at this point anymore.

Dazai closed the distance between you two, reaching out his hand to give you his signature head-pat. He ruffled your hair and you could feel the warmth radiating from him. It was so gentle and cruel at the same time. He sounded so sincere, apologizing for it too. He didn’t turn you down completely but instead accepted your feelings silently, without returning it back. Such a cruel way to torment you further. But you knew it already, you knew the consequence of your decision from the start. However, you still kept clinging on to him as if he was the only support you had as you floated out in the open sea, but yet was also the reason why you might drown in the first place. It suffocate you and you can’t breathe. It hurt so much. But falling for him was something you would never regret even if what awaited at the end was just a void that would envelop you. Even so, you aren’t afraid of drowning in it anymore if you could keep this feeling you had for him. Even if it resulted in hurting you. It was fine. If it was the only way you could love him.

And as repetitive as it seemed now, you would still say it no matter how many times it will take for him to truly understand it.

“Senpai, thank you… I love you.”

“I know.” 

And you would keep it that way until your feelings slowly cease to exist, much like a dying star. It burned brightly in the beginning and eventually will fade away, disappearing back into nothingness.

[authorlmfletcher]

The Gods Must Be Crazy

There was the really ridiculously adorable AU idea created by @sidsinning on Tumblr that had Adrien, the God of Mischief finding Marinette, a human girl sacrificed as a bride to the Fire God in the place of Kagami, on his doorstep by mistake.

You can see it here: https://sidsinning.tumblr.com/post/186673408881/god-au-where-every-year-the-village-chooses-a

I got a tag from @constancetruggle about what I’d do with the AU, so, with sidsinning’s permission, I'm going to try and write a story based this idea.

There is no current update schedule planned (as I have a lot already on the go), but I have the basic story outlined and will post it whenever a new chapter is ready! I think this could be a lot of fun

I will be posting on Ao3 and FFnet, with excerpts here.

              ___________________________________________

Bride Day

Waking up after a night full of partying with the god of wine was a literal headache. Groaning slightly as he pulled himself up into a sit on the edge of his bed, Adrien clutched the offending part of his body. He should know better, but really - how could one refuse a party like that? It afforded too many good opportunities. Like free wine. A sly smirk curled one corner of his lips despite the thumping of his brain. It had been a good night.

Cracking open an eye, he winced at the offending sunrise. It was too early to be awake but awake he was. Slipping on his robe, he stumbled to his feet and made his way to the shower, hoping the warm water would ease the ache.  

“Fun night?” snickered a little black cat-like creature that floated just out of range as Adrien stood in the rush of water that didn’t do much for the ache in his head. Especially with the taunting from his ever present companion. With a small snarl, Adrien cupped a handful of water and threw it at the cat, who dodged with a cackle.

“What’s in the plans for today, Plagg?” Stepping out of the shower, Adrien’s voice was muffled slightly by a towel covering his head as he dried off his blond locks. “Should we go see how the rest of them are doing after the party last night?” He smirked, knowing full-well that the majority of the immortals would likely be strewn all over the place in various states of disarray from their all-night revelry. A perfect opportunity to cause some mischief. It was his job designation after all.

Adrien, God of Mischief.

He took pride in it.

Dressed in a casual robe for comfort, he plodded his way to the pantry and pulled out some food. For all his immortality, he still needed to eat. Or at the very least, attempt to fill the stomach of Plagg, his animal spirit. One of the perks of trickery was his ability to transform himself into a black cat. His cat form could cause so much more trouble than his human-like one.

Throwing a chunk of cheese at Plagg, Adrien grabbed himself some coffee to try and counteract the effects of the night before. He sat in silence for a while, watching as the sunrise strew a golden glow over the mountain valley that stretched behind his small wooden hut.

Some gods liked big and flashy, but Adrien preferred simplicity and a clear view of nature. It wasn’t like he spent much time at home anyway, simply returning when he felt tired or needed to hide after a prank sparked some level of anger.

Coffee gone along with much of the thumping of his brain, he turned to Plagg. “Shall we?” The little being nodded.

Throwing open the door to pay a visit to the rest of his merrymaking friends, he nearly tripped over an unexpected bundle of white silky fabric on the step. It was likely his startled yelp that roused whatever was hidden within. Slowly, a shape formed from the silk - a young woman - her face appearing in an opening, with a hood around her head. She sat humbly on her knees, rubbing eyes that had been closed in a deep sleep, not even a moment before.

Adrien froze, unsure where this woman had come from, and why she was sleeping on the ground in front of his door.

Her eyes were a startling shade of blue. That was all he could think as she opened them to gaze up at him before taking a moment to look at his house and the rest of their surroundings.

“Where am I?” she whispered, looking slightly confused. Pushing back her white hood revealed dark hair tumbling over her shoulders and a clearer look at her face - splattered softly with freckles. A soft blush tinted her cheeks, likely in response to his unmasked scrutiny.

“Are you my husband now?” Her voice was shy, the blush deepening. Adrien blinked in surprise. Husband? Who was this girl? He glanced over at Plagg, floating beside his shoulder. The cat just shrugged then grinned. A grin that Adrien returned with a sudden thrill of excitement that all his tricks gave him.

“Oh yes…. Today is Bride Day, isn’t it, Plagg?” He could barely contain the glee at the thought of how his father would react to this.

“Yes, yes it is,” purred Plagg.

Stretching out his hand, Adrien reached for his new “wife.” She blushed again, gently placing her hand in his and letting him help her to stand before he led her into this home and closed the door quietly behind them. The grin didn’t leave his face. No need to draw unwanted attention just yet.

                 _________________________________________

READ THE REST OF THIS CHAPTER HERE:

• https://archiveofourown.org/works/20150533/chapters/47738362 • https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13357614/1/The-Gods-Must-Be-Crazy

[undercoverwizardninjaturtle]

Windows: A ROTTMNT Fanfiction

Summary: Some of us are born different, sometimes it takes a special family member to understand you. Some of us are just that lucky. A Leo and Donnie centered Fanfction

Word Count: 4100

Pairings: None

Rating: Its just a family story, don’t worry

                                                                                                        Windows

 “MUMMY ATTACK!!”

 The large lair immediately filled with the squeals of young children. The source of the chaos was the five-year-old with red stripes over his eyes, and a large blue t-shirt now charging after a laughing four-year-old who was waving his arms excitedly as he ran away, “NO one can escape a mummy attack!” Leo shouted grabbing at Mikey who only laughed louder and ran faster, even for a four-year-old.

 A six-year-old, far larger than either of the two boys, leapt out from behind the recliner, scooping up the four-year-old and turning to Leo in a blur of red, “I’ll save you Mikey!!!” Raph pointed at Leo,” Get the mummy!!!!”

  Leo threw his arms over his face as the giant mass suddenly fell on him, knocking all wind, life, and sense out of his body. Even if he had loss, he made sure to let out a over dramatic cough, “Foiled again!!!! Curse you Lou Jitsu!” before letting out a loud ‘bleh’ and letting his head roll off to the side with his eyes closed

“‘eo’s dead!” Mikey shrieked, Leo could feel his small hands shaking him in panic,” ‘e killed him!”

 “Leo’s not dead.” Raph always ruined his fun,” He’s playing dead.”

 “‘he is?” Leo could feel Mikey peer closer at his face, he had played dead long enough he still waited till Mikey was poking him in the face before bolting upright, his hands brought up like claws with a snarl, “I’m alive!!!” he declared

  Mikey shrieked again, diving behind Raph’s legs. Before his light blue eyes peered around their oldest brother. Though Leo was laughing loudly Raph was giving him a frown, figures, “Leo don’t scare Mikey! He’s the baby!” Raph never knew how to play right

 “Yeah! I’m da baby!” Mikey declared from his hiding location.

 Despite his young age, Leo was more then adept at rolling his eyes, “it’s a game! You’re the one who wanted me to be the mummy. Next time ask Donnie.”

 Raph frowned, not yet capable of a glare, “you know he doesn’t like that. He wanted to be alone.”

 “He ALWAYS wants to be alone.” Sass was another one of Leo’s natural talents. But despite himself he looked over to the far side of the lair where a curtain lay over a doorway. A designated ‘quiet area’ that Dad had set up a few months ago. Raph was already walking over, his constant shadow Mikey was waddling after him. Raph poked his head past the curtain, “Donnie do you want to play with us?” as Leo expected, he didn’t get a response, “Ok but if you want to let us know” Raph ducked back out. Looking at Leo before smiling, “Come on! Let’s go play Jupiter Jim!”

 Raph was already running off with Mikey. Mikey would have no problem playing whatever Raph wanted. But Leo found himself glaring at the curtain and sticking out his tongue before running after his brothers

 (#)(#)(#)(#)

 They played for a while after that, but eventually Mikey wanted to play with paint. Not in the mood for being painted pink, but as usual Raph was, he went and read through some of his Jupiter Jim comics. Until the smoke wafting from the kitchen signified dinner was ready. Thankfully Dad had only managed to burn the salad, somehow, and left the grilled cheese sandwich mostly undamaged. Leo had only ever known one dad, his Dad, so he often wondered if another Dads were as round or tired looking as his. Whenever their Dad wasn’t watching movies or playing with them, he was pouring over several books he had gotten from the ‘internet’. Most of the titles didn’t make sense to Leo, but he recognized one as a cooking book. Which had helped Dad’s food to go from, ‘tolerable’ to ‘tasty’ as he tore into his grilled cheese. Raph, of course, was into his third already. Mikey was savoring each bite with a wide grin on his face. Splinter’s sandwich was untouched mostly because he was too busy using it as a pillow. His black hair had started to resemble salt more then anything, and no amount of poking from Mikey could wake him up. Eventually Raph got sick of it, “Pop’s sleepy let him go!”

 “Food is for eating not for sleeping,” Mikey said,

 “Daddy’s tired Mikey, he’ll be ok.” But it was hard not to hear the pride in Raph’s’ voice. Leo knew Raph well enough to know he craved moments like this, since it meant he could be in charge for a bit. But Leo glared across the table towards a second occupant who wasn’t eating, “Why isn’t’ HE is eating then, he’s not sleeping”

The object of scrutiny didn’t look up from his book. Or look to the plate of plain bread by his hand. Donnie, unlike the others who liked to wear t-shirts and shorts, wore a giant purple hoodie that hung around his knees, the hood brought up over his head and eyes fixated on the pages of a book with words too complicated for Leo to understand.

  “He’s not hungry.” Raph said, “he’s fine.”

 “He’s boring.” Leo clarified. Sinking back into his seat and crossing his arms

 With a giant snort Dad sat straight up, “It-wasn’t-my-donut!’” before blinking, seeming to recognize he wasn’t in a situation with a guilty pastry, “Um, right.” Picking up his sanwich and, despite the fur that must have been caught in it, devoured it in one bite, before looking t his sons., “Finally! I knew I could cook something edible.” With a proud look on his face, “WE will just not eat salad ever again.” Before looking over his sons,” did you all enjoy your dinner?””

  “It was really good Pop!” Raph said happily, “It was really good!”

 “Tasty!” Mikey agreed,

 Despite how tired he looked, Splinter beamed happily,’ Ha! Take that Rupert Swaggart! There’s a new chef in town!” he looked around tile his eyes fell on the quiet son at the table. It was hard to see Dad’s face fall, “Purple, you didn’t eat breakfast. Are you really that unhungry?”

 But, like when Leo had said something, Don didn’t look up from his book.  Instead he slid off his chair and walked away from the table. Leo frowned and crossed his arms again. It was one thing to ignore him, and he REALLY hated being ignored, but Dad had made a good dinner!

 Splinter, to celebrate not burning down the kitchen, gave each of his remaining sons a small bowl of vanilla ice cream. Missing out on ice-cream might have seemed like a punishment to Leo, but he had never seen Donnie even look at a bowl. So instead he ate his treat greedily, and watched Splinter scrub the ice-cream off Mikey’s’ face.

When dinner and desert was all cleaned up, Mikey and Raph went to watch some tv with Dad. Which seemed fine except that Leo wasn’t in the mood to hold still. Instead he thought of his comics. He hurried up to their shared bedroom to retrieve the next issue.

 Their room was a usual mess, except for the bed for Don’s corner, so its surprised Leo to see Donnie sitting on the floor fiddling with something in his hands. IT surprised him more to see his Jupiter Jim comics strewed on the floor around him. One of the comics on his lap, “What are you doing?!” he asked

Don stared at him before looking back to his hand. Leo reached forward and snatched the comic off his lap,” These aren’t yours stupid!” he snapped, he quickly flipped through the pages to check for tears, “you can’t just take stuff that doesn’t belong to you Donnie!”

 “Leo?” figured mother Raph would come to investigate, “What’s going on?”

 “Donnie was touching my stuff!” Leo pointed, “Its my stuff! Not his!”

 Raph looked over the scene, before looking back to Leo, “He’s just looking at its Leo. He’s not doing anything bad- “

 “No! You always stand up for him but its’ my comics! He never plays with us, he refuses to do anything other then sit alone by himself.” He turned, looking to look at said brother, whose unreadable gaze was fixated on him, “You’re stupid, and I hate you.”

 Donnie blinked at him, for the first time in his life Leo could see that Donnie’s eyes were light brown, and even if his face was still silent and stoic, his eyes had begun to tremble with tears. In a dash, Donnie darted out of the room, ducking underneath Raphie’s arms. “Donnie!” Raph shouted after him, before turning and glaring at Leo, “Y-You’re a bully Leo!” before running after their brother.

 Leo squeezed his eyes shut before kneeling. Picking up his comics off the ground. It wasn’t his fault, Donnie shouldn’t have been touching his stuff! It wasn’t’ his fault.

 He was picking up “Jupiter Jim #192 The Never-ending Tale” when he saw something where Donnie had been sitting. Seeing as he had been messing with his comics, he didn’t have a problem messing with Don’s stuff. But when he picked it up, he recognized a small stacking of Lego bricks This one was only a few bricks tall with a blue brick. He had taken some cloth, probably from some sparse clothing and made it into a blue strip around the brick. There were two block dots where the eyes should have been.

 Leo sat down hard on the ground for a moment. Before shifting around the comics some more to find a second brick figure, clearly made to resemble Jupiter Jim, he even had found a plastic piece to use as a helmet….

 (#)(#)(#)(#)

   Donnie didn’t come out of his ‘quiet place’ for the rest of the night.  And neither Raph or Mikey talked to him either not that he was really trying to either. Instead, after sitting alone thinking to himself, he wondered upstairs. His father was, surprisingly, still awake, and sitting at his desk. Even though their bedroom wasn’t’ the cleanest, it was nothing compared to the disaster of their fathers’ room, clothes strewn over the floor and stacks of boxes in the corner, there was even a sword sticking out of the wall, for some reason a sword sticking out of the wall. His father was sitting at his desk, piles of thick books by his desk. Some of them, most of them, had Lou Jitsu on the cover. But there were also a few extra thick books with children on the cover ‘one reading parenting for idiot’s and you’. It was some sort of weird textbook like Donnie was already reading. Leo was having a hard time reading the cover. But the book in Dad’s hands was a little bit easier to read. “A-Auti-sim?” He read out loud, “What’s that? Why are you reading that?”

 Dad gave a small sigh, one sadder then Leo had ever heard from him,” I’m hoping it will help understand your brother.’ He set the book aside and turned in his seat, ‘You had a bad day Blue. You were very cruel to your brother today.”

  “I-I’m sorry.”

 “Did you apologize to Purple?”

 “I-I.” he couldn’t lie. But his eyes started to burn, “He doesn’t talk, he doesn’t’ play he sits in that stupid room all day. He doesn’t even act like he feels anything. But=But he was messing with my comics…and and he made these” Leo stood on his tip toes and set them on Splinters desk. Splinter picked up the Jupiter Jim figurine, then the Little Leo, “I don’t get it Dad.”

 “Some children, like Donnie, have difficulty communicating. They have sensory problems, and don’t know how to connect to others. But if they want to connect with someone…...sometimes they try to communicate in anyway they can.” He held the figurines out to him,

(#)(#)(#)(#)

 Leo had never actually been in Donnie’s Quiet Area, but it was made for Donnie. It was covered in boxes of weird old electronic items that Splinter had collected for him over time. There was also a set of headphones lying by a fully purple blanket. Which is, of course, where he found his brother. Donnie was curled up on the blanket, headphones over his head. Even in the low light he could see his blood shot eyes and wondered how long he had spent crying. Probably all night since Donnie didn’t come to sleep in their room last night. The thought made his gut twist in guilt. Don took one look at him before rolling over onto his side, shell to him and hoodie over his head.

 The five-year-old didn’t move closer, but sat down on the ground, if it wasn’t for his sweat pants the ground would have been a lot colder, “Hey Donnie.” He started, keeping his voice low. Now out of fear of their brothers hearing him. But it was called Donnie’s ‘Quiet Area’ for a reason, “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean what I said earlier….” He fiddled his thumbs together. He wasn’t’ sure if Donnie was even listening to him, “I don’t always understand what you need. Only what I want…” he reached into his pants pocket. He saw Don’s head tilt over his shoulder for a moment, probably fighting curiosity. Leo set the little Jupiter Jim figure on the ground, and the Little Leo besides it, “I think these are really cool. Did you make them?” Don was now looking at him fully before sitting up sliding the headphones off his head, “ I’m sorry I yelled at you. I didn’t know you were making anything so cool. “Leo reached back into his pants pocket, it wasn’t as clean as his, actually it was mostly just green and purple and marker marking where he had tried to replicate the detail Donnie had made, he set it by the little Leo, “See? Now Little Me won’t be lonely.”

 Even though his expression is still unreadable something in him lights up. He immediately scoots closer and picks up the Little Donnie and looks over it, Leo took the opportunity to look around again, he didn’t realize before that the wires and electronics are organized. But in what way he didn’t know, “What else do you like to do in here?”

 Don looks at him again, but nothing more. Leo almost thought for a moment that Donnie was asking him to leave but wondered if Donnie was asking something…. Leo got up and looked around the room before seeing a box shoved between two disassembled stereos. He moves closer and makes sure to look at Donnie before pulling it out. In it are more bricks of multiple colors, but scrubbed so clean Leo can smell the disinfect, he sits down again in front of his brother, “Show me how you play, and we’ll go from there alright?”

 Its’ obvious Don is still wary of him, but he sorts out all the pieces by shape and color and slowly starts to build. At first Leo isn’t sure what he’s supposed to do but adjusts to Donnie’s subtle gestures and glances on what to put what piece where. Out of the corner of his eyes, Leo can see where Don has put up strange pictures on the walls, not in the typical sense of art, but it looked like he had drawn family members as cars. With Raph being a semi-truck and Splinter being a bug. Mikey was an airplane and Leo was, to his enjoyment, a racecar. He couldn’t help but wonder how many hours Donnie spent staring at the drawings…did he put them up because he missed them? Did it have something to do with what Splinter said about not being able to communicate even though they were less than a few feet away? But it wasn’t’ too long before a strange noise comes from Donnie, one that Raph always got when it got close to meal time. “are you hungry?”  Don gives him a blank look again, “You haven’t eaten since last night, “Even then it had been just a few oyster crackers, “can I go get you a snack?” Donnie glances at his hands for a moment. It took Leo a little bit to catch on, “Oh you don’t want to get your hands dirty. I get that.” Not really, but he didn’t want to say that, “What if I go find a food that won’t make your hands dirty? Is that ok?”

 Don sits up more, as though in trigged. Leo stood up and walked out of the room. But immediately realized his task was futile, a word he had heard in Lou Jitsu’s Child Development Movie called “Lou Jitsu vs Child Illiteracy”. He really couldn’t cook on his own, the Ice Cream bomb of Mikey’s’ third birthday party banned everyone from cooking till they were Atleast ten. But the long yellow fruit on the counter caught his attention, he was sure Donnie love bananas but wasn’t sure on how to make them…clean.

 After a few mints of deep though he peeled the bananas and uses the back of a spoon to cut them into pieces into bowl. After that he grabbed a new spoon and hurried back to the Quiet Area, “Blue?” he stopped and turned to see his Dad looking at him from his recliner, ‘What are you doing?”

  “Donnie’s hungry, he wants clean food.” He held the bowl up for his father to see.

  “You- “Splinter looks surprised, not that Leo can blame him, “You got him to speak?”

 “No, but I can tell he’s really hungry,”

 “Oh, well um I’m very glad you figured out what he wanted to eat.” Splinter turned back to the tv. But again, Leo can feel something is off. There was a sadness coming off his father that he wasn’t sued to, it was the same sadness Leo had felt before when Dad had been reading that book. Was he sad he wasn’t able to help? Leo walked over to the chair, lowering his cheek onto the arm rest, “Donnie loves you Daddy.” He said, “Donnie loves all of us. He just doesn’t know how to tell us yet.”

 Splinter looked back to him, again there’s something about him that makes Leo sad. But slowly his father smiles and gently rubs his scalp, “I know, and I love all you.”

 Leo hurries back to don’s quiet area where Donnie is still waiting of him, sitting o up on his knees eagerly and looking at the bowl in Leos’ hands, “Clean food!” he sat down Nd held the bowl out, how’s this?” he asked

 That time. Leo almost gets a full smile

 (#)(#)(#)(#)

 Ten years later

 What a freaking Day.

 Donnie glared at his broken self-cleaning-toothpick. Of course, Raph would use an experiment he knew nothing about. What part of personal space did no one understand?! He didn’t even use it as a toothpick, honestly, he didn’t want to know what he had used it for only that it had come back to him with the same consistency of molasses.

  Knowing Raph, he had probably used it in a microwave to see what would happen.

 “Back tot eh dork cave I see?”

 The purple masked ninja groaned under his breath and glanced towards his door to see a familiar snarky Leo leaning against his circular doorway, grinning his usual grin,” find out what Raph did to your toothpick yet?”

 “No and I don’t think I want to know.” It was a lost cause anyway, it was better just to start over. He pushed the destroyed device aside and laid his head on his desk with a loud moan. He could have flipped Leo off for chuckling like that but couldn’t find the energy to lift his head up

 “Come on D, you were going to start over anyway. We both know it. Now get out here so we can watch a movie.”

 Unfortunately, Leo was right, if only because every time he tried to use the tooth pick it tried to gain consciousness. He had never told Leo about ah problem, but like every other moment it seems like Leo can read him.

 Another thing he had never told Leo was how grateful he was for that. His brothers didn’t have the memory he did, so his childhood wasn’t as clear to them as it was to them. But he could still remember when his bed rom was his ‘quiet place’ hiding back here for hours and working on whatever he wanted. His brothers, though eh had loved them, were often too loud and messy for him to handle. Now that he was older he understood what the problem had been, what was still the problem, but it had been like looking at his family through a window with them waving over occasionally to acknowledge him. He could see everything they were doing. But no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t reach them.

  But one day, after being so cruel Donnie almost cried himself sick. Leo had approached the window. He had taken time to finally understand what he needed. For a while after that, Leo was his protector, his translator for the world. A way for his brothers to understand him and for him to understand them. They had become unofficial twins. A nickname he had hated as much as he loved it.

 He truly believed Leo reaching out helped him learn to communicate better, how to deal with his sensory issues. Though those problems still lurked in the back of his mind, every once in an awhile, he still couldn’t handle loud noises and he still had problems talking to his brothers…

  But that window had been opened.

  Donnie looked at his desk, at the three brick figures that had been built so long ago and stood up, “Atta boy!” Leo cheered, turning to leave, “Now hurry- “Before he could stop himself, Donnie hugged his brother tight around the chest. Burying his face into his brother’s shoulder rand squeezing him for all dear life. He could feel his brothers shock by the fact he lost his footing for a few seconds before freezing up, even so his brothers’ arms came up around him back, cautiously returning the brace, “You ok? If it’s the tooth pick, I swear Raph didn’t drop it in the toilet- “

  “Thank you.” He mumbled. Donnie felt Leo tilt his head more in his direction, probably unable to hear him. So, despite his already waning pride, he spoke louder, with a tighter hug, “Thank you for everything Leo.”

 He half expected a sarcastic comment. Or maybe a bad joke. But instead Leo squeezed him back just as tightly, somehow a link that had existed since their childhood told Leo exactly what Donnie was talking about, “You’re my favorite twin Donnie.” He nuzzled his cheek against Don’s, “I’d do anything for you.”

  “I know.”  For a few moments the two just stood there, even when Raph walked by, gave off an emotional ‘aw’ and slunk away to not disturb them. Donnie finally drew away, but before he could fully release Leo, his brothers’ arms caught him around the chest again and squeezed tighter then before, “then its time for a movie!” eh declared, Hugging Donnie off his feet lifting him out of the room as Don squawked loudly,” LEO YOU NEANDERTHAL- “

  “MOVIE MOVIE MOVIE!!!’ he chanted loudly, using his free arm to pump the air. Despite his embarrassment, and despite his brothers all collapsing in near laughter, he couldn’t hate Leo for embarrassing him. He got his revenge later by kicking Leo off the bean bag they had shared, before reluctantly letting Leo join him again.

  He was his official twin

  He could never stay mad at him

  (#)(#)(#)(#)

 I haven’t written anything here in a while, but this was a prompt from another website I thought would be fund to you, course it became personal for me for many reasons. But I hope you found it enjoyable 😊

[letters-from-the-three-houses]

Oh man, your drabbles feed my thirst. May I ask for Dimitri/Edelgard where they kinda like each other/ flirt but know they shouldn't because of the political consequences.

our first non-byleth scenario! what would their ship name will be? dimedel? edimgard?

i think it’d be cool to mash their surnames together, like blaiddsvelg or hraeyd. bonus points because they mean ‘wolf eater’ and ‘corpse lord’! but it’d be awkward because ‘hresvelg’ and ‘blaiddyd’ encompass the entirety of their royal families

out of curiosity, does anyone else have any ships between the non-avatar characters? i like the idea of ashe/bernadetta, but that might be the crack shipper in me talking

i hope you like it!

edit: i’m more tired than i thought; fixed typos

He just kept thinking about her.

To his defense, he couldn’t help it; she was striking. Whenever she appeared, her presence commanded everyone’s attention. With her stance—strong and graceful. With her gaze—determined and imposing. With the way she looked and walked and bent to no one’s will. No matter where she went, eyes would follow. People would speak. Heads would turn. He wasn’t the only one that was drawn to her.

But he was pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to feel like this.

Expectant, if he had to name it, wondering when he’d see her next. Like if he stared at a space hard enough, she’d magically appear.

(And he knew it was stupid, but he’s caught himself looking out into space, just thinking about her, more often than not.)

It was troubling.

“Why am I acting like this?” he muttered. What once began as a solo study on blood magic had soon devolved into a daydream about Edelgard—and he was tempted to smack himself with his book the moment he realized. “What does this even mean?”

Oh, he had ideas. But he didn’t want to accept them.

He tried to refocus, but the image of her kept coming back. The way her hair swayed when she walked, how her eyes narrowed when she was in deep thought, how she—

He stood up, chair screeching back as he grabbed his things and left the library.

Gods, this needed to stop. Pacing down the hallways, he distracted himself with other thoughts. He thought about the essay the professor recently assigned. That was due soon, so he noted to start on it sometime this week. An upcoming test, on various leadership tactics that they had been practicing. The theory of reciprocity in blood magic…

Rounding the corner, he bumped into someone.

“Ah,” he said, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying attention. Are you al—”

His eyes widened.

Edelgard.

She noticed just as quickly as he did. “Dimitri,” she greeted, giving him a polite nod. His heart thumped. “What a surprise meeting you here of all places.”

“Huh?” He took in his surroundings, eyeing the corridors until he realized he was heading towards the Black Eagles dorm. “Oh, I didn’t notice. Apologies, I didn’t mean to come here.”

(And a teeny tiny part of his brain said liar, you were hoping you’d run into her.)

“I can see that.” She looked amused, then pointed to the way he came from. “The library is that way, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“The lib—” His eyes fell on his study materials. “Oh—yes. Right, the library. I was going to the library to do some revision.” What? No he wasn’t. He left because he couldn’t concentrate. “There’s a test next week that I need to study for.”

Yes, he drawled to himself. Because studying blood magic would help in a tactics exam.

How deep of a grave could a man dig for himself?

Edelgard, at least, didn’t seem to notice his internal suffering. “What a coincidence! My practical will be in a few days, so I was going there to study as well. Since we’re going the same direction, let’s walk together.”

“…Of course. It would be my pleasure.”

There was a fine line between self-hatred and torture, he thought. A line so small, each foot was on a different side.

“You have Professor Byleth, yes?” Edelgard continued talking as they made their way to the library. “I’ve heard the assignments are difficult. Very theory-heavy, so they say.”

“It’s not as bad as people think,” he said. “There are no trick questions; everything comes from the material. As long as you pay attention, you’ll do fine.”

“Even still, the class average remains woefully low.” She glanced at him. Thump. “Or perhaps not, if one was conscientious enough to pull the grades higher. Diligence is charming, don’t you think?”

He nodded, trying his best to keep his voice from cracking. “There’s always room for improvement. If you keep putting in effort, it won’t go to waste. The only surefire way to fail is to give up.”

“Reasonable point.” Thump, thump. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The walk there was uncomfortable. Dimitri was hyperaware of everything that was happening: the sound of her shoes hitting the floor, the awkward hold he had on his books. What should he say? How should he say it? Were his feet working? Was he walking too close to her? If his housemates saw him right now, what would they think?

At that last thought, he winced, drawing back as he tried to put some distance between them. He had to pull himself together. Whatever…this was, it was inappropriate of someone his rank and status. It was unlike him.

(And yet, he didn’t seem to mind.)

When they reached the library, Edelgard found them a seat by one of the windows, hidden away from view behind a couple of bookshelves. They settled in, strewing their papers all across the table. Book in hand, Dimitri cracked it open, but his eyes wouldn’t keep to the text.

Instead, he studied her lashes—long and pretty—and her eyes—elegant and stunning—and her—beautiful—

She caught him staring. “Is something the matter?” she asked.

He cleared his throat and showed her a random paragraph. “Do you understand what this means? I can’t wrap my head around it.”

“'Blood magic’?” She looked confused. “That’s not part of the curriculum.”

“Yes, well, it’s interesting.”

She raised an eyebrow. But she smiled. And he wanted to say it was fond, like she found something endearing, but he pinched his leg to stop. “There are wise men and there are fools. Sometimes, they are one and the same.” She leaned over to take the book from him, hair draping around the pages. He held his breath. “You must be lucky, because I can’t tell which one you are.”

“…Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“What else would it be?”

He frowned. “An insult, of course.”

She let out a giggle. Short, hidden behind the palm of her hand. What would it be like if she laughed out loud? “Then imagine it as you’d like. So, what was it that you didn’t understand?”

She knew a lot about the subject, explaining the theory behind how the magic was casted, the effects it had on the user, and how to minimize the drawbacks. At some point, he realized that it was a section that he had already read and understood. But still, he sat there, riveted, hearing the lull in her voice that he’d listen to for hours upon end.

And it made him feel.

He didn’t want to acknowledge it. He really didn’t. It would complicate things, make it harder for himself later down the line. There was too much at stake for him to take this seriously. He couldn’t compromise everything else for the sake of…of this.

But for now, sitting here, watching her face light up as she whispered—to him and him only, without the world as an audience—

Perhaps he could stay a little longer.

a/n: headcanon that dimitri gets flustered when he’s crushing real hard and fumbles around not knowing what to do. edelgard plays it cool and flirts sneakily

[asks are open!]

[kuro-gossips]

Affections

For @silverynight - Merry Christmas, sweetie! <3 I hope I did them justice, it’s my first time writing anything for Fantastic Beasts.

Five times when Gellert, Theseus, Albus, and Percival show just how besotted they are with the British magizoologist, no matter who the audience is, and once where Newt demonstrates his love for them.

1. Theseus

Newt comes to visit him at his office in the Ministry of Magic on the rare occasion he is in the area. It's been weeks too long since Newt has even set foot in England and Theseus has missed him dearly. Some of the Aurors under his jurisdiction are milling around, filing papers, finishing reports, and discussing active cases.

The opening door disrupts the calm din of the working area and in stumbles none other than his younger brother. Instantly, Theseus is up on his feet, strides over with a sense of urgency, and is hurriedly peppering kisses all over Newt’s charming youthful face, at which he giggles at the ticklish feeling. The other employees of the Ministry attempt to not stare at their boss showering affection on the shorter male. One of the new female Aurors squeaks when the elder Scamander lands a solid one right on Newt’s lips, but is immediately hushed by the others, who remind her that this kind of relationship is common amongst purebloods.

Theseus has no shame and drapes himself all over his curly-haired boyfriend, a content smile sweeping lazily across his features. “I’ve missed you so, so much, Artemis.”

Newt flushes underneath the other’s intense ogling and ducks his gaze out of pure habit. Regardless, his face shows nothing but happiness, his freckles seemingly dancing across his cheeks as his lips curl upwards.

2. Albus

Albus is mid-sentence, teaching a class when a knock on the wooden door reverberates throughout the room. He pauses his lecture, scratching his bearded chin, silently questioning who would interrupt him during class time as he walks over to greet whomever is standing outside. All the students, dressed in the Hogwarts’ robes with their respective house badges emblazoned on their left side, turn to peer at what their professor is doing, necks craning in an effort to see.

“Hullo, Professor Dumbledore.” The male’s tenor voice is soft, but it carries through the space. “I know I’m probably, um, interrupting your lecture, aren’t I? Terribly sorry for that…”

Beyond Dumbledore’s tall and muscular form, the teenagers aren’t able to see much of the mysterious man, but some of them catch glimpses of a mop of curly, reddish hair, a peacock blue peacoat, and a raggedy tan suitcase.

“Ah, Newt!” The sharper students swear their teacher’s eyes shine brighter (had they actually had line of sight of his face) at the other man’s presence. They can taste the sweetness and fondness imbued in the utterance of the younger’s name. He waves off the redhead's concerns and continues, “No trouble whatsoever, Newt. I always have time for you, love.”

That's when the whispering starts when they hear the term of endearment:

Professor Dumbledore has a significant other?

What kind of name is ‘Newt?’

… I would've thought he preferred the fairer sex…

“Oh, well, I could always come back in a bit, you know, once you're done.” Newt stammers out, flushing as if he knows the entire fourth year of Gryffindors and Ravenclaws are staring at him, and maybe he can tell.

“No, no, no, come in, take a seat, the class is almost finished anyway.”

“Well, if you- if you don’t mind then.”

A tall, lanky male with a boyishly charming face is ushered through the entrance and onto a Conjured plush armchair in the back. The adolescents rush to return to normal behaviour and positions, trying to not be obvious that they were eavesdropping on their professor’s conversation, but when Dumbledore’s eyes twinkle furiously, they know they’ve been caught red-handed. Some of their ears are glowing like Muggle Christmas lights at the tips.

The class continues as if nothing has happened, but the wizard lecturing seems to be standing straighter and speaking in a more grandiose manner, like he wants to impress someone. To his credit, there are no further interruptions from the younger blue-eyed man sitting behind the rows of students, a pleasant, albeit lazy, smile gracing his features, but the children themselves cannot stop gossiping. Dumbledore doesn't have it in his heart to dissuade their curiosity, especially in front of his beloved, who holds such a trait above most people. There is the faint buzzing of secrets being traded between individuals and most can't help but glance back to the curly-haired man.

The bell chimes, echoing throughout the school, indicating that it is time to change classes. Newt rises from his seat and approaches the front of the room, stopping in front of the teacher's desk. A couple of students linger as long as possible, but they can feel weak compelling magic being cast, forcing them to leave. Before the doors shut completely, a small group see Albus pulling on the lapels of the vibrant blue coat and sliding his lips over the full ones of the other man, who reciprocates wholeheartedly.

“It really has been too long, since you've visited, Newt.” Even beyond the wooden slabs as barriers, light laughter can be heard down the hallways.

3. Gellert

Gellert has just finished occupying their new hideout in Paris, after excusing the Muggle family from their property (alive and well, thankfully, if Newt were around to say anything). He writes a concise and anonymous note with directions to here, sending it out with a nondescript owl to the magizoologist. His closest associates stare inquisitively at his actions, but don't dare ask. He is not known for using such mundane channels of communication.

Only a couple of hours have passed and to Grindelwald's surprise, there is a familiar pattern of knocking at the house's doors. It's a code that is exclusively shared between Newt and himself. The sound is hushed, just barely enough for the Dark Lord to hear, but the house is utterly silent, so it travels to the ears of his subordinates as well. Vinda appears near the front entrance; however, before she is able to check who is there, her Lord has already invited the person in. To her surprise, it's none other than Newt Scamander because she recognizes the man's face as the one that had been plastered all over the newspapers across North America and Europe.

“My Lord?” Her eyes are wide in disbelief. Grindelwald casually dismisses her with a glance, but she is rooted in her spot. He may have just rolled his eyes.

“Vinda, meet Newt, my beau if you must know.” His mismatched eyes narrow at her, challenging her to voice any undue thoughts she was harbouring. The magizoologist can't help but redden at his words; he can't get used to whenever any of his boyfriends publicly claim him as theirs. Without further ado, he leans down, tenderly cupping the other's heavily freckled cheek, and passionately kisses him. Newt doesn't fight, doesn't try to bite off the platinum blonde's wicked tongue, but instead kisses back.

The French woman cannot excuse herself fast enough.

4. Percival

Percival is in the middle of working a particularly tough case, dealing with some vile witch who enjoys torturing rich, obnoxious No-Maj men and then stringing their bodies up in public places. He can feel a migraine coming on as he analyzes the details presented in the papers strewed across his desk. A memo paper scurries across the oak surface in the form of an origami mouse and he plucks it up to read. The handwriting belongs to MACUSA’s President, Seraphina Picquery, who has requested a meeting for updates on the current investigation with whomever is assigned to it. The team consists of Percival himself, the older Goldstein sister, and another Senior Auror, Fontaine. So as he makes his way to Madam Picquery’s office, Graves takes a short detour to the area where the rest of his department is located to grab the other two.

The Director barges through doors, shocking the workers bustling and chatting around the department space. To his own surprise, he sees a very familiar visage attached to a lean body situated on the couch next to Tina’s desk. Percival needs a moment to compose himself and school his face back to neutral; he doesn’t remember Newt mentioning in any of their correspondences that he would be visiting New York any time soon.

“Mr. Scamander, I didn’t know you were in town.” Graves drawls, a dark eyebrow hinging upwards. The magizoologist shoots up from his seat, clearly not expecting the appearance of his dark-haired lover.

“Oh, um, Mr. G-Graves!” Newt exclaims in a higher pitched voice than his regular tone. It’s obvious the other man is nervous for a reason he cannot fathom. He dismisses the thought because he is required at Picquery’s immediately.

“Goldstein, Fontaine, come. We’ve been summoned.”

“Oh, Mr. Graves, sir, Newt was just here to-” Tina begins, but Percival cuts her off with a glare. The brunette flounders a bit before hurrying to gather her notes about the case and follow after him. “Sorry, Newt, do you mind just waiting here for a bit? I’m sure the meeting won’t take too long.”

They only have Picquery’s attention for a few scant minutes because she is an extremely busy woman, but it’s a series of high profile incidents and she needs to make a strong public presence known. Just as the President is excusing them, she begins speaking again, “Oh, and Percival. I forgot to mention that MACUSA has just extended an offer to Newt Scamander for a consulting position here.”

Percival almost whips around to stare at her declaration, instead he turns around slowly because he is known for nothing if not his complete self-control, “I’m sorry, what?”

“Mr. Scamander will be joining you and your team on all cases involving magical beasts in any form. I expect you to make him feel welcomed, am I understood? We require not only his expertise on this subject matter, but it will also alleviate some of the political tension between England and America, following last year’s fiasco with Grindelwald.” Picquery’s tone is stern and leaves no room for arguments, not that Percival really has any complaints about seeing the British man more.

“Understood, Madam Picquery.” He gives her a brief nod and leaves with his subordinates.

When he arrives at Tina and Fontaine’s office space, he marched straight for the curly-haired male, who is awkwardly waiting around, fidgeting with his case. Percival quickly gathers the other in a powerful hug, as everyone in the immediate area resembles a fish out of water with gaping mouths and eyes.

He asks as he pulls back from the embrace, “You little bugger, you. Why didn’t you tell me you were going to be working here?”

Tina watches as those dark brown eyes soften and how the weight seemingly lifts off of his shoulders. She has never seen her boss behave this way, but at the same time, if it were anyone to influence it, it would be Newt.

“Er, well, surprise?” Green eyes glint with amusement and his mouth tilts upward in a half smirk.

To further the occupants of the room’s bewilderment, their previously thought unflappable superior swoops in to press his lips against their charming magizoologist’s.

Suddenly, everything makes sense to the elder Goldstein sister and a small smile creeps up onto her face.

5. In Private

It’s one of the rare times that the five of them can actually convene and they intend to make the most of their time together. A quiet weekend away in the isolated region of Grindelwald’s Nurmengard headquarters is exactly what they all needed after such stressful months of work. Gellert, Percival, Theseus, and Albus all arrive earlier than Newt and the latter can barely get his entire body through the front door, before he is being shoved up against the nearest wall and pampered with affection. His suitcase clatters against the ground as Newt's grip slackens.

Grindelwald, who hasn’t seen the youngest in the longest time of the four, immediately occupies his lips, tongue sweeping against Newt’s bottom lip, seeking permission. He is granted access without an ounce of hesitation, a happy moan emitting from their redheaded lover. Theseus is hovering nearby, raking his hand through those wild curls and presses gentle kisses to wherever he can get to. Albus and Percival stand off to the side, but still in close proximity, patiently waiting their turn. As soon as Grindelwald’s stockier build moves out of the way, the Hogwarts professor is carting him off to their bedroom in strong arms. Newt squeaks and lightly protests, but he knows he can’t win in this situation -- he doesn’t want to either, really.

They take turns stripping him of a piece of clothing at a time, slowly, graciously. It’s far from his first time spent with them, but Newt still shys away from their prying eyes and wandering hands. He is self-conscious of the numerous scars and deformities littering his freckled skin. His boyfriends take it in stride, used to this habit, and stretch his limbs out for more of his creamy skin. There are lips and delicate touches from many, many fingers along the ridges of raised skin, the sensation is ticklish and giggles escape his full lips, uncontrollably.

“Newt, you are so beautiful.” Albus mutters, pushing back from his position where he is kissing the other’s shoulder, and gazes lovingly into those expressive green eyes.

Percival follows up with, “We know you are insecure about your body, but rest assured, it makes you even more appealing to us.”

Newt couldn’t be happier as he pulls each of his lover’s down for a peck.

“I love you all.”

“And us, you, liebling.” Grindelwald fondly coos.

+1 Newt

Newt is not good with publicly showing affection, or even in private, if he is being wholly honest with himself. Even if he loves these four goofballs with all his heart, he has trouble expressing himself freely, but they adore him for his quirkiness and accept it with open arms. They’ve done so much for him and he doesn’t know how to begin to repay their kindness.

The five of them have never explicitly discussed family plans, but he remembers them mentioning adopting children in passing. Newt is curious and seeks something more special than a simple adoption -- he wants their first child to be a meaningful step in their relationship. So he conducts plenty of research and finally, he stumbles upon something in the recesses of Grindelwald’s expansive library.

He waits until Christmas, mere weeks away, when they are exchanging presents and gifts them each with an envelope containing a small piece of parchment. They look on in confusion at it, not able to make sense of anything written on it, but he breaks out in an affectionate grin, wide and unyielding.

“It’s a list of ingredients.” All of their gazes turn towards him and he holds their attention completely, eager to hear what he has to say, “It’s ingredients to a potion that will allow me to bear a child.”

The sight before him is comical, to say the least, and Newt lets his laughter rip out of him at these men who are usually perfectly composed.

“What I’m saying is, I want us to have a child or children of our own. The best part of this potion is that it allows us to combine all of our magical signatures to conceive a child. This way, he or she will truly be all of ours-” Before he can finish explaining, he finds himself at the bottom of a dog pile of heavy men. Gellert and Percival are staring at his belly longingly, imagining it swollen with a baby. Theseus can’t stop praising his genius and showering love over his face. Albus has a devious look on his face that says he wants to start trying conceiving as soon as possible and Newt is all too willing.

[pleasurextreasure]

❜cutlass (pt. 12/?)

genre: Aristocrat!reader x Pirate!Jeno, ft. NCT Dream

warnings: all nct Dream members are above 18+, multi-chapter, swear words here and there throughout fic

word count: 1.3k

prompts: in which Jeno is cursed to live for three more years and only loving someone and expecting nothing in return can break it

a/n: LELE IS OUT HERE TRYING TO COME FOR MY NECK. YEAH, WELL, BET ➵admin kiki

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 |Current

Ξ r e q u e s t Ξ

For whatever reason it was for, the crew members’ actions had grown suspicious. Whether it was deliberately keeping short conversations with you, or trying to steer clear of you altogether, it was clear something was going on in their close-knitted circle.

It pained you to be treated this way, especially when you believed had finally been accepted onto the ship. You had been working on with your sewing, and helping others on the ship whenever it was asked. So, why in two days time, was everyone acting strangely?

Although their actions were subtle (other than growing wide-eyed and walking in the opposite direction of you at times), you were quick to pick up on them. They were still kind, but it was a kindness that contrasted from the one you were once accustomed.

The soft winds kissed your cheeks as you wistfully closed your eyes. You escaped to the quarterdeck, one of the places where not many members will pass by unless a certain task calls for it. You enjoy the peaceful atmosphere that surrounds, allowing it to bring you to a melancholy state.

The mixture of the sun’s beams nurturing your skin as well as the time that passes begins to make you drowsy. You’re on the brink of fully dozing off when Jaemin’s shouts startles any sleepiness you once had.

Your figure perks up as you strain yourself to hear what he was hollering away at. The words “Land ahoy!” are what is picked up and you stumble to your feet to verify his proclamation for yourself. Your feet carry you to the the ship’s side, arms bracing themselves against the railings. You’re leaning as far as you can over the brass railing, fingers gripping tightly around it.

The smile that had appeared was now faltering as you took a good look at the land ahead. It was at that moment that you finally understood why the crew, and Jeno especially, acted so distant towards you.

They were taking you home.

⚓⚓

Renjun was unable to stop you from barging into Jeno’s quarters, his failed attempts of trying to coaxe you trailing behind your fiery strides.Your words are strewing before your hand has the time to slam the door open.

“How could you,” you began, ignoring the bugged state of Jisung’s stare as you point an accusing finger to the perpetrator at hand, “after… after everything that’s happened. This is what you do?”

Jeno avoids your intense stare, going back to the interrupted conversation he was having with his crew member. “You will be escorting Y/N to the courthouse. Claim you and your father found her after her boat was lost to sea.”

“Will they believe that, Captain?” the younger asked, shrinking away from your hotted gaze.

“No, they won’t. Because I’m not getting off this ship.”

Ignoring you once more (which sends a heart-wrenching your way, mind you), Jeno answers, “They shouldn’t ask too many questions once they find out who she is. Her father probably put a reward up for it. It’s up to you if you want to collect it or not.” You audibly gasp, and your hand reaches out to grab at Jeno’s cloth-covered arm. “Stop acting as if I’m not here and explain to me what’s going. Why was this decided all of a sudden?”

Finding this his queue to leave, Jisung is quick to flee the scene, closing the door behind him in his hurry.

It’s now that he finally decides to look at you, and for a moment, you wish he hadn’t. “We had an agreement in the beginning, remember? We don’t need your services anymore.”

As they registered in your head, his words were twisted to reveal their true meaning. We don’t need you. You weren’t sure what you were feeling at the moment, but you had a sense of comparing it to a heartbreak you’re experiencing for the first time.

You sound defeated as you utter out, “Is that really it?”

“We’ve arranged for your departure within the hour of docking. We’ll be on land soon, in the next half hour or so. If you’d like to say goodbye, now is the time.” He shakes your hand off, triggering the stringing in your eyes to appear. Jeno brushes pass you, bumping your shoulder in the process.

“Jeno,” you barely whisper out, the shock still in its full effect.

It was as if you were dreaming right now. Your body was beginning to grow numb from the clenching of both your stomach and chest. You see him stiffen,  first by the squaring of his shoulders then down to the clenching of his fists, at your weakened tone, but he makes no move to turn back to you.

You clench your own hands, allowing your nails to create crescents into their palms. “Pirates truly are the worse, afterall.”

He’s silent for a moment, most likely processing the amount of hate you’ve just spat at him.

But all too soon, he answers, “I trust you can find yourself out.”

⚓⚓

You find yourself drowning in the same melancholic feeling as earlier mixing itself with dejection, anger but most of all, abandonment. The whole ordeal didn’t seem real, yet here you were, being led by Jisung to the courthouse. After Jeno’s final words to you, all fighting strength within you had escaped and you were now following orders despite every ounce in your being telling you not to.

Although you had ill feelings towards them, you decided to still say bye to the boys you had believed were once close to you. You could see some hold back tears, for reasons unknown to you since they were the ones throwing you away. Chenle had been the one to give you a firm hug, and you couldn’t help but return it for the sake of his sanity.

The walk to the courthouse was a brisk one, with neither you or Jisung uttering a single word to one another. What was there to say at a time like this, anyway? After he exchanges you off for reward money, he’ll be heading back to their ship that was hidden from the Navy guards.

“They’ll recognize you,” you find yourself saying. “Aren’t you worried of that?” “No.” Jisung shakes his head. “Captain and the others have a higher bounty than I do. There’s probably little to no areas who know what I look like.”

You’re back to being quiet with each other up until you are at the courthouse’s stone steps. You notice the slight hesitation he faces when debating on entering the building until he finally steps foot in, with you glumly following close behind.

You’re quiet during Jisung’s introduction of who you two are. You’re quiet as he explains your fake story, only nodding here and there for confirmation when needed. You’re quiet when the Navy officer hands Jisung the reward your father had put out. You’re even quiet when Jisung sends you one last mourning look and takes his exit, leaving you forever behind.

“Let’s get you back home now, Missus. I’m sure you must be worn to the bone from the unfortunate events that you faced.” The officer’s kind smile sickens you to the core. How air-headed did he need to be to believe those pirates’ story?

The dreaded time had come where you were escorted to your father’s estate. You could feel the apprehension crawling within as you watched the officer announce your arrival. The door opens, revealing the devil himself.

“Welcome home, daughter of mine.” Your father’s pressed smile was anything but welcoming. “Why don’t we go freshen up and we can discuss your behavior over a nice lunch your mother was kind enough to prepare?”

Your father’s head butler escorts you back to your prison of a room and softly shuts the door once he confirms you have nowhere to hide. You find yourself stumbling towards your vanity, taking in the rugged-looking girl that is you.

You firmly place the back of your hand against your mouth when you felt your shoulders begin to shake and your body wrack with sobs, as you allowed yourself to finally cry.

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[fidemcanem]

♡ gotta get in on that shit

send  ❛ ♡ ❜  to suddenly hug my muse ! (not accepting)

@xonismsx - cut for length (2K+)

The week that they all spend at James’ house is the best of the summer.

Far from the dour and miserable atmosphere of 12 Grimmauld Place, all full up with resentment and disappointment, James’ home is full of love, and laughter, and little freedoms that run through Sirius like a drug. He’s allowed to take what he wants from the kitchen, whenever he pleases, and Fleamont and Euphemia will never object to him entering the room simply because they can’t stand the sight of him.

They dote on their son’s friends, Sirius knows—plying them with lemonade and treats, and letting them stay up later than perhaps they should. But sometimes, it feels like they dote on Sirius a little more, and to Sirius, it’s the best feeling in the world. It’s nothing to Euphemia to slip him an extra potato at dinner, the last one, but it fills him with such warm joy that he feels like he might burst.

James’ house is Sirius’ favourite place in the world, and it might as well be heaven when Peter and Remus arrive, too: the four of them drinking in the heady days of summer with nothing to fill their days but impromptu quidditch games, and picnics, swimming in the river and tumbling through the woods with whoops and yells.

Fleamont digs out a tent and sets it up in the garden for them—it smells a little of mothballs and neglect, but the charms have held up, and they strew cushions and blankets across the magically extended floor inside the canopy until it’s just one big bed, and they sleep out there, basking in the easy summer warmth. Sirius Sprawls himself out in the middle, spread-eagled, claiming the space.

“Nice try,” Remus remarks mildly, dropping down into a pile of cushions nabbed from the sofa. “There’s still plenty of room for all of us.”

Sirius stretches his arms and legs out a little further, a vain attempt to impede his friends.

“Maybe next year,” James grins, and chucks a pillow at Sirius’ head, only for it to bounce off and hit Peter, who’s just plonked himself cross-legged behind Sirius.

“Oi!”

“Sorry, Pete. Forgot it would bounce off Sirius’ ego.”

“Here.” Peter smacks the pillow into Sirius’ stomach, and Sirius lets out an oof!, automatically curling to protect himself from further onslaught. “I found the ‘off’ button,” Peter announces, cheerfully.

“You should be so lucky,” Sirius grumbles. True enough, they talk into the night, and even when the other three are sleepy and lethargic, half-listening and half dozing, Sirius is the one whose mouth is still running, mile-a-minute.

“Someone shut Sirius up,” James mumbles, sleepily. Before Sirius can really object, Peter rolls over and keeps going, tumbling himself until he’s practically on top of Sirius, arms wrapping around him.

“Shhh,” he says, words all snared and tangled in sleep, this the only syllable he seems able to manage. “Shhh.” Sirius, never one to back down from an affectionate touch, locks his arms around Peter in return, and wriggles a little until he’s comfortable. With a soft sigh, content, he lets himself settle down into the silence, and tries to catch a little of the sleepiness that’s saturated the thin cloth walls of the tent.

“Huh,” James mutters, barely audible. “Well now we know that works.”

*

The common room is full to bursting. The four of them pile in, cheeks still pink from the cold and gloves not yet discarded. The snow hasn’t yet begun to tumble from the heavy, ominous-looking clouds overhead, but Hogsmeade had been gleaming with a thick layer of frost, even at midday. They’re cheerful and rowdy, drunk on the weekend and the first faint glimmerings of festive feeling.

They manage to claim a sofa, Sirius obnoxiously laying himself down over the length of it until Peter simply sits on his legs, drawing an indignant squawk. Remus, pretending to roll his eyes but a smile tucked small at the corner of his mouth, perches on the arm. James takes the floor, leaning back against the sofa with his arms flung out along the cushions.

It’s a tangled mess, the way they always are. The way that’s best, just the four of them, surrounded by noise and other people, a myriad of conversations that don’t matter and might as well not be happening. And if it’s all the better for the small flask that Sirius and James had managed to charm from Rosmerta, well—that’s neither here nor there.

“Did you see that miserable Ravenclaw fourth-year outside the castle?” James asks. Peter frowns.

“Who?”

“You know,” James says, and waves a vague hand. “What’s his name? Storm Toads?” They boys fall about, Sirius’ barking laugh cutting across the chatter in the room.

“Stowe Troad?” Sirius offers.

“That’s the one,” James crows. Sirius is still snickering.

“Dunno,” he says. “I prefer Storm Toads.”

“Either way,” James says, waving away the name, though Sirius is clearly committing it to memory for future usage. “Apparently he looks so miserable because he was supposed to be going on a date, only he tripped on the way back to his seat with drinks.”

“Ah,” Sirius says, shaking his head mournfully. “The old pouring-a-drink-over-your-date mistake. Rookie error.”

“As if you’d know,” Peter scoffs, reaching out to shove Sirius in the arm. Sirius has, in the entire time they’ve been friends, been on a grand total of one date, back in fourth year, which he’d abandoned cruelly early, because apparently twenty minutes without his friends was the most miserable he’d ever been. He hasn’t tried again since, as far as Peter’s aware.

“Ouch,” Sirius says. “Well if you think that’s embarrassing…”

Peter knows with a sudden and terrible certainty what’s coming next. He brandishes a finger at Sirius, who’s already grinning, shuffling down the sofa to get a little further from Peter’s reach. “No,” Peter says, sternly. “No. I was twelve. We don’t talk about that.”

“Do you guys remember that time that Peter—”

Peter launches himself, and Sirius’ words are cut off in a laughing yelp, Remus neatly standing from the arm of the sofa to avoid being knocked off entirely by the struggle between the two boys. Sirius is still trying to talk, but he’s spluttering and laughing and Peter is practically on top of him, locking Sirius into the cage of his arms and his legs, pressing his face down into the cushions.

“All right, all right!” Sirius cries eventually. “Pax. Mercy, Wormtail, look what you’ve done to my hair—”

Peter loosens his grip but doesn’t let go, and Sirius wriggles about until he can at least lift a hand to run through the dark mess of hair haloed out on the sofa. Then he hooks his arms around Peter’s back and holds him there, still occasionally devolving into a low chuckle that Peter can feel pressed up against him like deep bass in his bones.

*

When Peter reaches the dorm, he hears something hit the door, hard, from the other side. He pauses and waits for whatever’s going to follow— the wild laughter, the spluttering indignation—but doesn’t hear it. With a frown tracing his brow, he pushes it open.

There’s a book lying just behind the door, the spine broken and pages bent and splayed. Peter reaches down to pick it up—transfiguration textbook—and is not entirely surprised to find that it’s got Sirius’ name scrawled lazily inside the front cover.

Of all of them, Sirius has the worst temper. He’s usually amiable, or irritable and sulky at worst, but there’s a deep well of anger lurking in him, too. It’s not all that commonly seen, but impossible to miss when it overflows. Peter glances around the room cautiously, and thinks for a moment that it’s empty. Then he catches sight of Sirius, behind his bed, pulling things from his trunk. Every so often something seems to spark his ire, and he flings it in a random direction. Peter ducks instinctively as something is flung in his direction, only to realise it’s just a jumper; it careens drunkenly through the air before tangling itself up on the floor.

“Um,” Peter says, to announce his presence. Sirius barely looks up.

“If she’s so convinced that I can be tainted by ‘half-breeds’ and ‘blood traitors’, then everything she’s ever touched is tainted,” Sirius says, launching into his words like he’s already had half of the conversation with the empty room. Peter doesn’t need much context to guess who she is. Most of the time, Sirius is full of derisive humour and cutting comments. Very occasionally, real rage bubbles over, and the result is—well, something like this. “I’ll fucking burn it all. Everything that was ever bought with her money, every heirloom and hand-down, anything that’s ever been in that house.”

Sirius swipes his wand through the air with more anger than finesse, and Peter dances out of the way as the abandoned jumper is suddenly edged with licking flames. He hurriedly mutters his own aguamenti, and wrinkles his nose at the smell of wet wool and burning. Sirius barely seems to have noticed. He’s gone back to rooting through his trunk and pulling things out at random.

For a moment, Peter is torn. This feels like a James thing, who can talk to Sirius without even having to talk. Or maybe a Remus thing, who has a knack for prying Sirius’ real feelings out from the knot of frustration they’re inevitably caught in, unclear even to himself.

But then again, he’s here, isn’t he? And Sirius is just as much his friend. So that probably makes this a Peter thing, right now.

“Pads,” he says, softly. Sirius ignores him.

“—and once I’m done with my things, I’ll break into the Slytherin dorms, and do Regulus’. All of it. She probably lovingly folds his socks for him, the perfect son that he is. And then, after all that—I’ll burn down the whole damn house. With her inside it, even. Let the old hag choke on her precious things—”

Peter sidesteps the wet and slightly blackened jumper lying in a puddle on the floor, and reaches out his hands to Sirius’ shoulder, to stop him from throwing the finely carved wooden box that holds his chess set. For all that it came out of the Black family house, Peter knows he likes it. He’ll regret breaking it, later.

“Pads,” he repeats. “Hey. It’s okay, mate.”

Sirius doesn’t meet his eyes, and doesn’t stop talking.

“—you guys will help me. I know you will. Oh, Remus might protest at first but he’d come. And when we’re done, we’ll hang a bloody great Gryffindor banner in the smoking hole where the house used to be, and—”

Peter doesn’t know what else to do, he pulls Sirius in and locks his arms around him, half remembering last summer and a tent, a warm embrace that had cradled sleepy silence in its wake. There’s a pause, and then Sirius’ arms are around Peter, too, clamped too tight and with fingers clutching hard at Peter’s shirt. They’re still around the same height, neither of them blessed with the sudden upward trajectory of the other two, but Sirius ducks his head and buries it into Pete’s shoulder.

Pete wonders if he’s crying.

“I’ll help you burn down your house if you want,” he says, generously, hoping for a laugh but not getting one. “Just—maybe not tonight.” Sirius stays where he is for another five seconds, ten. Then, abruptly, he pulls away from the embrace and fixes an unconvincing smile on his face that borders on the manic.

“Where’s James, anyway?”

And that’s that; Sirius tumbles out of the door, away from his problems, and Peter is left alone with the aftermath: standing in a room littered with miscellaneous belongings, watching a small pool of water soak into the carpet and spread, ever so slightly, towards his toes.

*

“It seems mad. I know.”

Sirius’ voice is low and urgent, conflict written clearly in the set of his jaw and the insistent clench-unclench of his fists. He’s nervous. Peter can’t remember the last time he saw Sirius nervous; usually his self-assured confidence, propped up by his arrogance, bulldozes everything in path. It doesn’t suit him. It’s like ill-fitting robes, draped across him with an awkward unfamiliarity.

“Someone is passing on information.” He doesn’t say a name. Doesn’t even suggest one. But the tug of a grimace at his lips and the hurt in his eyes mean that he doesn’t have to. When did Remus become so withdrawn? When did they stop talking, the two of them, really talking? How long have touches been hesitant, fingers second-guessing their once-easy placement? “I’m the obvious choice. For secret-keeper, you know? And I’d do it in a heartbeat, I’d die rather than give up James and Lily, but—”

His fingers sweep through his hair. Sirius can’t stop talking and can’t find the right words, all the same time. The whole conversation is stop-start-stutter-stall.

“—if they think it’s me,” Sirius says after a long, calming breath, ”then they’re not looking for the real secret keeper, right?”

“Right,” Peter says, slowly, watching Sirius stuff his hands in his pocket, then remove them again. Not sure what to do with them.

“Pete, you should do it,” Sirius says, suddenly. “It’s a lot to ask and I know it’s dangerous, but it’s James and Lily. And they’re less likely to come looking for you, yeah? So it’s me who’ll be in danger, anyway, and that’s okay, that’s fine—and you can help keep them safe. I know there’s a war on and there’s everything at stake but… but family are important. Real family, I mean. Like us.”

Sirius is showing no signs of stopping. The words are tripping from him now, like a dam inside him has broken. The more he speaks, the faster it gets, and he’s a little breathless and his shoulders are held high with tension and his eyes are darkening as he works himself up.

Peter reaches out, and grabs his shoulders.

“Hey,” he says. “Sirius.”

Sirius only half-focuses on him, and he opens his mouth—more argument, more justification, more pleading—and Peter does the one thing that he knows, after all these years, will work. He pulls Sirius close, wrapping his arms around him. Chin resting on Sirius’ shoulder, he waits until he feels the embrace return, Sirius letting out a shuddering breath as he clings on.

“You’ll do it?” he asks.

Peter swallows hard, once.

“I’ll do it,” he says. They stand there, the two of them, fighting against the tide. Men adrift at sea, clinging to each other in the midst of it all. And Sirius—talkative, irritating, unstoppable Sirius—is quiet in Peter’s arms.

[themalhambird]

Chapter Forty:

It was surreal.

Edward had been expecting to enter London as a prisoner dragged behind the King’s horse. Instead, he was entering on the King’s horse, except really it was just Henry’s horse because apparently he’d handed Richard the crown back and just like that, Richard was king.

And not doing well. 

He seemed to be in a state of shock- Edward knew how he felt- but that wasn’t the problem. The problem was the crowds pouring in to the street to cheer their King and strew flowers in his wake. The larger and louder the crowds grew the more tense Richard became. Edward imagined he was finding it difficult not to think of those same crowds with nothing but jeers and dirt and stones for him- his hands were shaking and he looked dead ahead, apparently trying to block the crowd out. 

But that wasn’t going to go down well. These people- they wanted their monarch to  smile, to acknowledge them. Already, parts of the crowd were growing quiet, muttering-

“Wave,” he muttered. 

“I can’t,” Richard said, voice quiet-frightened. “I can’t- I can’t do this Ned, all these people, I can’t-”

Edward cast his eyes ahead, desperately scanning the crowd for anything that might help. “You like Lizzie, right?” he said. “Look for the children in the crowd, concentrate on them.”

Richard nodded. As they continued forward, he grew a little less stiff, smiling hesitantly, at least.

And then a little girl at the front of the crowd clutching a posy of flowers caught his attention as she stretched one of the flowers out to him. Richard reigned his horse in and reached out to take it with a quiet ‘thank you’ and a smile. He straightened and tucked it in to hair, and the little girl gasped with delight. “he put it in his hair!” she could be heard to say as they moved on. “Mummy I gave the King a flower and he put it in his hair!” Word seemed to spread through the crowd, and it grew warmer again, shouting it’s approval. Rumours of it raced a head of them and by the time they had reached the palace everyone in their procession had been handed at least half a dozen flowers by excited children, and Edward made a note to ask the nearest clergyman who the Patron Saint of Crowd-Pleasing was because Edward owed them a thousand prayers of thanks for interceding on Richard’s behalf and arranging nothing short of a miracle. “I don’t like crowds,” Richard said, as they rode in to the courtyard of the palace of Westminster and dismounted. “I didn’t like that.”

“The children made you smile.” Edward said softly. “And you made them happy, and that made the adults like you, you did well-”

“I don’t like it!” Richard snapped. “I’m not doing it again!”

“Okay.” Edward took a deep breath. “Okay,” he repeated. “We’ll work our way around it.” They wouldn't. There was no way they’d be able to stop crowds forming whenever the King went anywhere. Richard seemed to realise it too, because he grabbed Edward’s hand. 

“Don't ever make me do it on my own, at least,” he said. “Let there be something- something else to distract them, like- like you, or-or-”

“The Queen.” Edward said softly, directing Richard’s attention to the steps, where his wife was running out to meet them. 

“Dickon!” it was out of her mouth before she could stop herself. Poise, she had decided: regalness- show him you can be his Queen and his wife, not just a friend he happens to be married to. That flew out the window the moment she saw him, flowers- flowers! in his hair and talking with Ned. Ned noticed her first, and stepped away from Richard to bow as Richard turned, and their eyes met, at which point she called out his name.

“I-Isabelle?” he looked uncertain, but smiled anyway, and wrapped her in his arms. She settled against him, and they held each other for a while. 

“I’ve missed you,” she whispered. “Welcome home.”

“Isabelle, I’m not well. They made me king again but I don’t know what’s going on...Salisbury’s taken Henry to the Tower. Ned wants to send Northumberland there too, only he says we can’t risk his soldiers so we’re stuck with him-”

“Hand the soldiers over to Hotspur,” Isabelle said. “Make him Earl of Northumberland, he’s going to get the title anyway. I’m going to help, Richard. I’m going to help you any way I can.”

[lilyvandersteen]

I Knew You’d Be Beautiful

Here’s a tiny Brittana oneshot from me to you, written for @whatstheproblembaby as a birthday present (yes, I know it was yesterday... It didn’t get finished in time...). Enjoy!

Do I need to warn for Ghost!Santana? Well, consider yourself warned :-)

Santana cursed under her breath when she heard the realtor’s perky voice float up to her. Again? The previous tenants had run out of the apartment like it was burning after she’d teased them a bit. It usually took very little. The first ever person to take Santana’s apartment after she’d died had been so spooked by Santana knocking on their headboard at night, opening and closing windows at random, laughing straight in their ear and hiding their keys and glasses, that they had babbled on and on about the place being haunted to everyone in the neighbourhood, and had invited all sorts of people to get rid of Santana’s ghost. None of the charlatans who’d turned up and waved wands or strewed sand or salt or holy water had managed to get rid of her, but it had certainly helped her reputation grow.

Soon, all it took was a shoe floating three feet above the floor or a glass of water tipping over to send them screaming. Yet the realtor didn’t give up, and kept sending new people her way. He didn’t seem to be bothered by the apartment being haunted at all. When Santana had playfully popped his suspenders one day, he’d just rolled his eyes and fastened them again.

Yep, Mr Perky was on his spiel all right, pointing out the beautiful hardwood floors, the abundance of natural light coming in, the spacious kitchen and living room, the lovely view and the close proximity to Juilliard – oh, interesting, a musician? – and the subway. “And there’s a laundromat next door, and a convenience store just around the block, and a coffee shop as well. They have the BEST biscotti anywhere in New York, you just have to try them.”

The prospective tenant hummed in answer.

“Was there anything more you wanted to know?” Mr Perky asked. The way his voice went slightly higher showed that he was clearly bracing himself for questions about the apartment being haunted.

There was silence for a beat. Then a soft voice said, “Oh… Uhm… Yes! Are pets allowed here? Last time I forgot to ask and then I had to stay at a friend’s for months until I found another place.”

Huh? No mention of me at all? Who is this person?

Curious, Santana slid off the reading nook in the bedroom and joined the two others in the living room, where Mr Perky, now grinning ear to ear, was assuring his client that she most certainly could keep pets in the apartment, if she wanted to.

Ha! We’ll see about that!

When the woman beamed at Mr Perky, though, Santana’s fighting spirit flagged a little. Wow, she was stunning. Tall and graceful and blonde, and her smile sparked something in Santana’s blood that she would have sworn was lost to her when she’d died.

There were no more questions after that, and Mr Perky invited the beautiful blonde to come sign the lease at his office. “If you need to hire movers, I can call a moving company for you, if you like?”

A week later, the new tenant moved in. Her name proved to be Brittany, and the pets she’d brought along were called Lord and Lady Tubbington. Ridiculous. The cats were about as big as Puss in Boots in Shrek Forever After, and no wonder – Brittany waited on them hand and foot and fed them pretty much constantly.

As soon as Santana had gotten the hang of Brittany’s schedule, she started haunting her.

First, she took to stomping on the creaky floorboards in the living room when she knew Brittany had just gone to bed.

But all Brittany did was call out, “Stop it, Lord Tubbington, I’m trying to sleep.”

And when Santana kept going, “You too, Lady Tubbington! Be quiet!”

And when Santana still didn’t let up, “Okay, that’s it, no treats for you tomorrow! Now, where are my earplugs?”

Santana tried it again in the middle of the night, but Brittany didn’t so much as stir. And when she made the floorboards creak early in the morning, Brittany just muttered, “What is it, Tubs? Did you poop? I’ll clean it up when it’s time to get up, now let me sleep.”

Even when Santana upped the ante and made several mugs and plates fall off the table or the kitchen counter, one of the cats always got blamed. Maybe Santana should have felt guilty about the amount of treats they were missing out on these days, but she figured a little less food wouldn’t hurt them.

The next thing Santana tried was hiding Brittany’s belongings: her phone in the kitchen drawer, its charger in the laundry hamper, and Brittany’s purse underneath the bed.

Brittany, however, patiently searched for the lost items, and when she found them, she just said, “Now why did I put that there? No wonder I couldn’t find it!”

Frustrated, Santana started levitating things in Brittany’s presence, but the beautiful blonde never even noticed. Either she was dancing, which was so mesmerising to watch that Santana had trouble remembering her haunting plans at all, or she was daydreaming her way through all other day-to-day tasks.

When a plate with cookies, which had been standing on the coffee table two feet away, nudged her elbow while she was reading, Brittany took one absently and bit off a chunk, wiping away the crumbs that had landed on her book and reading on.

A few days later, Brittany was putting her coat on to go grocery-shopping, and Santana made her scarf float in mid-air, right in front of her. Brittany just took the scarf and put it on.

It was maddening not to get any reaction at all, so Santana went further than she’d ever gone before, even venturing outside of the apartment to haunt Brittany everywhere she went.

On a hot summer’s day, she sent a strong gust of wind at Brittany to make her dress fly up. But instead of looking around fearfully, Brittany closed her eyes and smiled, basking in the sudden breeze, and twirling around delightedly.

Next, she took to joining in whenever Brittany started singing. Again, the only reaction she got was a blinding smile, but she kind of liked duetting with Brittany, so she kept doing it.

A few times, she even prevented Brittany from stepping onto the street right in front of a speeding car or from knocking into a ladder she hadn’t even noticed was there. Brittany, however, didn’t so much as bat an eyelash, side-stepping the car or the ladder and continuing on her way, a smile playing about her lips.

In the end, Santana decided she had no other choice left than to show herself to Brittany. That was sure to scare her away. Why the thought of Brittany leaving sent a pang through her chest, she had no idea. She’d be glad to be rid of her, as all the others before her, wouldn’t she? It wasn’t like she was counting the times that Brittany smiled at her – well, because of her – and died on the days that she didn’t, right? Right.

So, the next time they were duetting in the shower, Santana waited for Brittany to open her eyes after she’d shampooed her hair, and then materialised in front of her.

Brittany, instead of shrieking and running away, grinned at her. “Hey. You’re beautiful. I knew you would, with a voice like yours. What’s your name? Mine is Brittany.”

[ademonandherbentley]

We Don’t Play By Your Rules (But a Guidebook Might Be Nice)

Written for the @spnpolybingo

Square: Bela x Ruby x Sam Word count: 1,983 Pairing(s): RubyxSam, Queerplatonic!BelaxRuby Rating: Gen Summary: She wasn’t in love with Ruby. She’d never been in love with anyone and suspected that she never would be and she had no objection to Sam at all. But she was also feeling possessive of Ruby in ways that just a friend had no business feeling and she was at a loss for what to do about it. Human!AU.

Bela heard Ruby before she saw her. She sighed, lifting her cup to her lips and resisting the urge to duck under the table. Ruby knew she was here and wasn’t likely to take the hint.

Ruby’s voice got louder as she approached, apparently arguing with whichever poor waiter had made the mistake of accosting her at the entrance. Bela set her cup back down and secured her most diplomatic smile, and a second later the pair were rounding the corner.

“Talbot!” Ruby made her way over and threw herself down into the opposite chair. The waiter hurried up behind her, “Is this woman a friend of yours miss?”

“Regrettably,” Bela said and Ruby stuck out her tongue. “I apologise for the commotion, Charles, I’ll deal with her.”

“Not at all, miss Talbot. Can I get you anything else?”

“That’ll be all, thank you.”

Ruby watched, smirking, as he retreated, “I was half expecting him to bow.”

“They look after their loyal customers here, Ruby. Take even better care of their regulars. In return they expect a certain standard of conduct and presentation.” Bela glanced pointedly at Ruby’s leather jacket and jeans.

Ruby snorted and swung her legs over the arm of her chair. A couple in their 60s seated across from her gave them both scandalised looks and Ruby waved back cheerily. Bela pursed her lips, annoyance warring with amusement. “If you despise this place as much as you claim to then why are you here?”

“Well, if Mohammed gonna hide from the mountain in fancy tea rooms then the mountain’s gotta brave the tweed and china.”

“I’m not hiding from you.”

Ruby stared at her, “You’ve been avoiding me, Talbot, do you really think I haven’t noticed? You’ve barely been home recently.”

Bela looked away, taking another sip of tea. She had been aware of how painfully obvious she was being but hadn’t known what else to do. She’d unprepared for all of this.

She hated being unprepared.

“It’s Sam, isn’t it?”

Bela swallowed, still avoiding Ruby’s gaze. “Whatever makes you say that?”

Ruby groaned in frustration, attracting another flurry of disapproving stares, “My God, Bels, am I gonna have to beat it out of you? ‘Cause I will. I’ll knock your front teeth straight into Grandma Tightass’s soup if I have to.” She shot another look over her shoulder at the old couple, who were now whispering angrily to each other.

Bela grinned, “I don’t doubt you. But I’d prefer it if you didn’t, I have a reputation here I’d like to hold onto.”

“Of course you do, where don’t you have a reputation.”

Bela raised one eyebrow, declining to comment. Ruby could scoff if she wanted to – pretend she didn’t put a lot of work into making sure everyone she encountered thought she was one bottle of scotch away from a major felony. They had known each other far too long for her to get anything past Bela.

Unfortunately, the reverse was also true.

“Come on, Bels,” Ruby swung her legs back around and leant forward, expression suddenly earnest, “nothing so bad you can’t tell me about it, remember?”

“I don’t-” Bela swallowed again, clamping down on the emotions roiling inside her; emotions she couldn’t even put a name to. “I have nothing against Sam. Certainly not after that débâcle with Lilith.”

“Hey, you call it a débâcle, I call it Saturday night.”

“It lasted three months and she’s still in jail.”

Ruby made a dismissive noise and Bela grinned again. Sometimes she truly envied Ruby’s screw you attitude.

“And in any case, it’s none of my business who you date.”

“No,” Ruby said, “but… you’d like it to be.” She was hedging, Bela could tell. Poking round in suspicions until she found truth.

“I have no interest in controlling you, Ruby, you’re not one of my contacts.”

“Not what I meant.” She hesitated. “You in love with me, Bels?”

Finally, Bela looked back at her. Ruby’s face was carefully neutral, body angled towards her. Bela realised she was braced for anything she might throw at her, and felt something warm tugging in her chest.

She said, “No. No, I don’t think I am.”

Ruby nodded as if that was the answer she’d been expecting.

Bela sighed, “I think normally that’s the end of the conversation.”

“Normally,” Ruby agreed, “but hey. This is us.”

And isn’t that exactly the problem? Bela thought. Neither she nor Ruby had ever bothered with much introspection when it came to their relationship – sure, they had never quite fitted the typical moulds of 'best friends’ and 'room mates’ but they were both unconventional people and really, what did it matter?

It hadn’t mattered. Not until Sam Winchester had come along and then, unlike anyone before him, stayed around. Not until Ruby had started talking about him and looking at him in ways that Bela could only interpret one way.

She wasn’t in love with Ruby. She’d never been in love with anyone and suspected that she never would be and she had no objection to Sam at all. But she was also feeling possessive of Ruby in ways that just a friend had no business feeling and she was at a loss for what to do about it.

She cleared her throat, “I’m not going to try and get in the way of you and Sam.”

“Of course you’re not,” Ruby said, “you’d never be so undignified. But you don’t have to be such a martyr, Talbot.”

“What do you mean?”

“What, do you think I followed you here to let you down easy? You know I don’t do that.”

“No, you don’t.”

It was Ruby’s turn to clear her throat. She leant back and pushed her hair out of her eyes, “I was talking to Sam the other day. About, y'know, plans and stuff.”

Bela raised her eyebrows in surprise. Ruby never had plans with anyone.

She continued, “He’ll be done with his PhD next year. He’s been looking for jobs out in Kansas, says he wants to be closer to his family.”

“And he wants you to come with him.” Bela felt her stomach drop. Kansas was hundreds of miles away.

“Yeah, he does.” A smile chased itself across Ruby’s lips, “and hey, not like this dump has anything left to offer me. Should be an easy sell right?”

Bela said nothing.

“And I wanna say yes, believe me I do. Sam, he’s… he’s our brand of screwed up, you know? But whenever I imagine doing it there’s only one thing I can think.”

“Which is?”

“Not without you.”

Ruby wasn’t meeting her eyes any more but Bela found she couldn’t look away. She took a deep breath, “Are you saying you’re in love with me?”

The corner of Ruby’s mouth hitched up in a smile. “Don’t you think I’d have made a move already if I were? No, I’m not in love with you.”

Bela found that that was a relief. Romance was messy, not something she wanted to ensnare herself in and not what she and Ruby needed in their relationship (whatever the hell that was).

“I told Sam all this,” Ruby said, interrupting her thoughts, “he thinks we can work something out. Between the three of us, I mean.”

“The three of us?” Bela asked.

“Look, Bels, I used to think I knew what was going on between us, turns out I don’t have a clue. But whatever we are…” she shifted in her chair, gaze fixed on the table in front of her, “I don’t wanna leave you behind. Not for Sam, not for anybody. I want our bedrooms to be down the hall from each other until we’re old and grey and rigging the bingo games in the retirement home, alright?”

“And… Sam’s okay with this as well?”

“Yeah. If you wanted to tag along with us to Kansas he’d be cool with that. I know you’ve built your little empire here but-”

“I can build connections anywhere,” Bela interrupted. Something that felt suspiciously like hope was stirring in her. Whatever fallout she’d been anticipating it hadn’t been anything like this.

“Are you saying you’ll stick with me?” Ruby met her eyes for a brief moment and Bela finally noticed that she was holding herself rigid, one hand dancing anxiously on her leg. She smiled; the proper, full smile that only Ruby could ever draw out of her.

“If that’s what you want, yes Ruby. I’ll stick with you.”

“Cool.” Ruby glanced away but not before Bela caught the start of her biggest smile. “That’s cool. Glad we could work this out.”

“Me too.” She didn’t think she’d ever been as sincere in her life.

“And you know,” Ruby shrugged nonchalantly, “I travel a lot. If you and Sam ever wanted to hook up or something while I was away, I’d be alright with that.”

Bela stared at her, “Seriously?”

“I’m a big girl, Talbot, I know how to share,” Ruby winked at her and Bela found herself abruptly stifling laughter.

The apartment in Lebanon was open-plan; spacious and high-ceilinged. Sliding windows ran the length of one of the lounge walls, opening up onto a balcony that overlooked a stunning city vista.

None of them had quite been prepared for just how much three combined pay cheques could buy.

Their first night settling in they strewed their boxes across the open stretch of pine wood that spanned the lounge to the kitchen and curled in front of the TV with Chinese food. Bela and Sam wielded chopsticks with efficient grace. Ruby ate rice straight out of the delivery container with a serving spoon.

“I’ll get you to learn how to use these one day,” Sam told her, poking her in the arm with a chop stick.

“Believe me Sam, it’s a wasted effort,” Bela told him, “If I couldn’t train her I doubt you’ll succeed.”

“The food gets to my mouth, what’s the problem?”

“It’s improper.” Bela said. Sam snorted and she lifted a shoulder in acknowledgement that that had, given the women she was talking to, been completely the wrong argument.

“So is jewellery theft,” Ruby said through a mouthful of rice.

Sam whipped around to look at Bela, “I knew you were lying about that robbery!”

“Yeah and how many others,” Ruby said.

Bela rolled her eyes, “Are we really going to have this discussion, Sam? Do you think my friends back home didn’t know all about your brothers past dabbling in identity fraud? Not to mention your involvement?”

Sam narrowed his eyes at her, then seemed to relent and returned his attention to his food, “Yeah okay. You’re not planning on holding up anywhere around here are you?”

“Don’t be absurd, Sam.”

“Good.”

“We’ve only just arrived. It’ll be at least a couple of weeks before I’ve gathered enough intelligence to start planning anything like that.” She winked at him and he flicked a grain of rice in her direction.

“Children, please.” Ruby chastised.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Bela replied.

“Whatever.” Ruby curled into Sam’s side, pushing her bare feet under Bela’s leg. Bela made a show of rolling her eyes even as she shifted to accommodate her, then they all lapsed into silence, focussed on their food.

It was odd, Bela had decided; three people with such chequered personal lives moving to a small Midwestern town to play house together. Perhaps odder still that she was one them, an irregularity interrupting an otherwise closed romantic circuit. Pushing them even further from normal.

Then again, maybe none of them would survive normal even if they wanted it. Maybe that was what made them work so well.

She leant over and snagged the last spring roll, pointedly ignoring Sam’s noise of protest. The three of them had a house to organise and after that…

After that they had a town to run.