#sure it seems futile to complain about *checks notes*

[sallysetoncore]

can w* please stop finding my posts!!! this isn't for you!!! i made a post of all the times they say "home" in the pilot and the brotherfuckers made it about them!!! do i have to put the w* do not interact banner on EVERY post?????

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Portrait of a Dangerous Man🎨5

Warnings: (series) non-consent sex and rape; slow creep; cucking; (this chapter) threats, implied and mild violence

This is dark!mob!Clark Kent x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: Your dream of having your work hung in an art show comes true but your first buyer is not all he seems to be.

Note: So between Friday and Saturday I’ll be doing eight hours a day for @buckyownsmylife​‘s writeathon (like 12-8pm EST) but you can send an ask at any time. I will share a list of what I intend to work on and possible ideas later today if you wanna ask some questions or gab about whatever. After the last few days on tumblr and that nonsense, I think we need a little carelessness.

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

You walked and walked until you could no more. You stopped in front of another humongous set of gates and ordered an Uber. You waited in the dark in the shadow of the wall and a car slowed as it approached. You waved as the model and plate matched the app and got in. The driver remarked on the odd pick-up but you just shrugged and dialed.

You’d called your mom several times and she hadn’t picked up. It was almost eleven then so you gave up as her voicemail beeped once again. You dropped your head back against the seat and held your head. Everything was fucked.

You couldn’t believe it. Clark making the offer, Marcus trying to barter with him. It was all so fucked up. Five years. Five years! You never thought Marcus to be that type, shallow and greedy. Sure, he griped about money but you always made due and you thought if you had each other, it would be enough for him. But it wasn’t and he was ready to trade you to a stranger for a check.

You felt nauseous and crossed your arms over your stomach as you hunched over. You felt like crying but you knew you couldn’t. You had to get what you needed and get out. You weren’t going to stick around to argue with either of those assholes. This was the last time you were going to let your hope be crushed.

How much time had you wasted? On both of them.

You got out in front of your building and finalised the tip for the driver. You felt worse that you were going to leave your work in that cretin’s house. That he thought he could just buy you like he did the canvas. It was all just a ploy to get in your pants. And the way he said it, “I’ll fuck her either way.” Like you would fall into his arms agog and smitten.

You rushed up the stairs as your eyes began to well and you sniffled as you unlocked your apartment door. You wanted badly to trash the large monitor sitting above Marcus’ glowing tower. You wanted to shred all his clothes and take a hammer to everything he owned.

You didn’t. You grabbed your laptop from your desk and swept into the bedroom. You pulled your floral duffel from under the bed and loaded it with your laptop, tablet, and a pile of clothes. You tossed the zip-up pouch with your passport and other important documents on top and hauled it over your shoulder. He could keep the rest of it. You didn’t care if it ended up in the dumpster.

You checked the time as you closed the apartment door and headed down the hallway. It was after midnight. You wondered if they noticed you were gone. You didn’t care. You were sending every penny back to Clark, even if you had to dip into your savings; those years of squirreling away in hopes of buying a home with the love of your life.

That was what you thought he was. You just couldn’t understand how he could be so easily won over by overpriced cars and the ridiculously overdone mansion. You came out onto the street and stopped.

Where could you go? There wasn’t a bus out of town until the morning. You could get a hotel room for the night and head to your mom’s then. God, you felt rotten at the thought of showing up at her doorstep, another failure on your shoulders. You swore to her the last time you talked that you were finally getting your feet under you.

Why were you so stupid?

You dried your cheeks with the back of your hand and adjusted the strap of the heavy bag and turned down the sidewalk. There was a Days Inn not far from your place. They might have a vacancy.

You didn’t make it two steps before you heard the car door. You tried to ignore the man as you were eager to be anywhere but out in the city streets after dark. It was too late to react as the passenger door opened and the dark figure blocked your path. The driver came up behind you and you cried out as you were seized from both sides.

“What the fuck are you doing?” you shrieked, “let go of me.”

“Shut up,” the driver said as he covered your mouth and the other man took your bag.

You murmured into his palm and kicked out with your heel, barely missing the passenger with the sharp tip. He opened the back door and threw your bag inside. He turned back and grabbed your legs as you thrashed and both men struggled to angle you in after the duffle.

You pushed your chin above the man’s hand and gasped, “please, what--”

“Shh,” you were finally forced past the door and it slammed behind you, nearly catching your skirt.

You sat up and pulled on the door handle but it didn’t budge. You couldn’t pull up the locks and your fingers just slid down the switches. Even the windows wouldn’t roll down.

“Who are you? What are you doing?” you kicked the door desperately, “please--”

“Hurry up,” the passenger growled, “don’t wanna keep the boss waiting.”

“Hey! I’m talking to you--”

“And you better stop,” the driver pulled out a gun and turned to point it at you, “close those sweet little lips and be a good girl. We got a far way to go, doll.”

You swallowed and pushed yourself back against the vinyl seat. The driver turned forward and shoved the keys in the slot as the other bent around the console and reached to snatch your clutch from you. He wrestled with you for a moment then ripped it away. He took out your phone and waved it triumphantly as the car began to move.

“Please, what--”

“Don’t make me tell you to shut up again,” the driver warned as he focused on the road, “god damn maniac got me out in the middle of the night with this shit.”

“It’ll be a good cut,” the other man said, “can’t complain about a late night if I’m getting paid.”

“The boss? Who--”

“Fuck, you ever know when to shut up?” The passenger turned to glare at you, “you’re really not doing yourself any favours so please.”

He looked forward again and flipped on the radio. He turned the dial so you were deafened by the raucous tones of hair metal. You cradled your ears and huffed as you fell back against the seat. The street lights flashed down on the seat beside you as you passed and you shook your head.

This wasn’t a coincidence. It couldn’t be. But the question still remained; who exactly was Clark Kent?

🎨

You screamed as the man dragged you out of the car. The other came around to grab your other arm as you swiped out with your nails. Your ankles bent under you as you tried to stop yourself on the mosaic stonework. The large mansion loomed over you in the dark, still night. The party was over and all the cars were gone.

You writhed as they forced you through the front door and you tried futilely to shake off the larger men. Your chest hammered with panic and you leaned back as you were dragged up the stairs. You grunted as you wriggled and hissed at how they twisted your arms back and held them firmly.

“Please, please, just let me go--”

“Well, doll, we’ve come this far,” the driver snickered, “you really think you can get out now?”

“I don’t-- who are you? Why are you doing this?”

You were dragged towards the pair of pale doors that stood open as they offered a peek of the studio within. The amber glow of a lamp washed over shadows and limned the lines of the overturned easel as you were taken inside. You whined as the men stopped just past the doors.

Clark sat in the same chair he sat in for your sessions. He smirked as his eyes fell upon you but your own skittered over to Marcus as he sat on the stool by the table of paints. You blinked and batted away tears of disbelief with your lashes. His eye was swollen and his lip split; thick rope held his wrists behind his back and coiled around his torso and legs.

“What--

“Let her go, close the door,” Clark demanded, “I can handle her.”

The moment the hands left your arms, you spun but an arm caught you swiftly around the waist. You were flung back so you sprawled across the floor. You cried out as you met the polished wood and your body rang with pain.

“Hey,” Clark warned and his footsteps neared you as you pushed yourself up on shaky arms, “that doesn’t happen again, got it?”

“Sorry, boss, I was just--”

“Go,” Clark barked as he knelt and took your arm.

The doors slid closed with a harsh snap and you hit Clark’s chest as he tried to pull you up to your feet. You dug your heels into the floor and pushed yourself away from him. You turned and got up on your knees. You climbed to your feet but he was quick to block your path to the doors.

“You left so suddenly,” he crossed his arms, “not even a goodbye?”

“Fuck you. Fuck both of you,” you sneered, “I heard your offer,” you paused and looked around at Marcus, “and I heard you too. I’m not a whore.”

“Sweetheart, I know you’re not,” Clark said patronizingly, “but apparently he doesn’t.”

“Whatever, let me go, I don’t want either of you,” you snarled.

You tried to brush past him and he grabbed your arms and backed you up. “Sweetheart, I don’t have to pay for it. Understand that. And we did settle on a deal but I’m not paying for your services.”

“What-- Why--”

“I’m paying him to watch,” Clark winked, “I want him to see how he fucked up. I want him to see what a real man can do for you.”

“I’m not interested,” you tried to shrug him off but he held firm, “get off of me, Clark. We’re done. I’m sending you your money back and I don’t want to see you again.”

“Where are you gonna go, huh? No job, no prospects, no money?”

“I did alright before you, I can take care of myself--”

“Sweetheart,” he framed your chin with his hand and leaned in, “this is where we make a deal of our own…” his blue eyes clung to yours as he lowered his voice, “you can go along with it and the boy gets to walk off with just a couple bruises or… he doesn’t leave this room on his feet.”

Your eyes rounded and your lip quivered. You sucked in air and steeled yourself.

“I told you, I’m done with both of you,” you hissed.

“Uh huh, but I know you’re not gonna let him die just like that,” he turned his hand and rubbed your cheek, “besides, neither of us are stupid. I saw how you look at me and you know what lies behind those eyes.”

“No, I don’t…” you uttered and looked back at Marcus. He squirmed on the stool helplessly as he stared at you intently, begging you silently as he bit down on the gag. “Why are you doing this?”

“Shhh, sweetheart,” he trailed his finger over your lower lip, “it’s okay. Haven’t I been good to you?”

“I can’t… please, don’t make me do this.”

“Come on, let’s sit down,” he dropped his hand as his other clung to your arm, “we have some things to sort out first.”

He pulled on you and you locked your legs. After a moment, your knees buckled and you let him lead you over to the chair. He sat and drew you onto his lap. You sat stiffly as his hand tickled your lower back and crawled up to pick at the straps of your dress.

“You see everything I have, everything I can do,” he said staunchly, “I can snap his neck as easily as I snap my fingers,” his other hand settled on your knee and squeezed. He nuzzled your shoulder and grazed your skin with his lips, “and even if it came to that, I’d still have you, sweetheart. This isn’t about what I get, I know my prize, this is about you and how you want things to go.”

You shuddered and shakily touched your neck. You hated the way his fingertips sent shivers through you and his lips made your stomach churn. You stopped his hand as it crawled up your leg.

“I… I only wanted to paint,” you said numbly.

“And did you really think that was all I wanted? A painter?” he scoffed and slipped his hand from beneath yours. He felt along the slit of the dress and shoved his hand beneath the fabric.

“I don’t… know…” you squeezed your thighs together as his fingers curled into your flesh.

“You really want to make this difficult? Sweetheart, you can’t even begin to know who I am and what I can do. This is just a taste.”

“Wh-why me?” you stuttered as he forced his hand between your legs and kneaded your flesh.

“Why not?” he replied.

He slapped your thick lightly and urged you off of him. You stood and he reached beneath his jacket as you wobbled on your weak legs and looked at Marcus desperately. He shook his head and let it slump down on his chest.

“Now, Marcus,” Clark revealed a dark pistol, “we talked about this. If you want your money, you don’t get to look away.”

You stared at the barrel as he pointed it at Marcus and lifted a brow. You flinched as your emotions swirled in your stomach and every one of your nerves was set alight.

“Sweetheart, you have one minute to make up your mind,” he pulled back the hammer, “as much as that looks gorgeous on you, I want you in only this.”

He pushed his fingers into his pants pocket and pulled out the diamond necklace. He held it out and the gems twinkled in lowlight. You swallowed and reached to take them from him.

“Who are you?” you asked as you hooked your fingers through the chain.

He chuckled and ran his fingers along his beard, “I’m exactly who you need me to be.”

[tetsurobunni]

Kita Shinsuke : Matchmaker

☽ suna x reader ; 2.6k words

☞ characters mentioned : kita shinsuke, aran ojiro, atsumu miya, osamu miya

☽ fluff, he takes care of you when ur sick ! even tho he’s a menace, kita being an angel

☽ a slight mention of adult themes (its a teasing joke)

☽ notes : hiii i wrote this for a friend and i figured id add it here teehee :))

hey Jesus, i know we don’t talk much but...fuck you. i feel like literal dog shit

You groaned as you shoved yet another tissue in your nose. You were sick, and God forbid it wasn’t the worst cold you’d ever had.

This morning you had pulled on your uniform in a haze; honestly it's a miracle you even made it to school. Aran had stopped you in the hallway when you arrived, putting a hand on your shoulder and placing the back of his palm against your forehead.

He immediately got out his phone and texted someone-presumably Kita, since he was the one most qualified to handle this. The captain had dealt with him and Atsumu both when they were sick so he could surely help you and get you to go the hell home.

You had pushed weakly at Kita when he ushered you towards the entrance of the building, assuring that you were a-o-kay. You ended up making friends with a nearby trashcan and emptying your guts right after the claim. Kita had held your hair back and rubbed your shoulders reassuringly. Afterwards, he pulled out his phone and sent a quick message to someone. Who? You didn’t know.

Kita had made sure to get you home in one piece. He tucked you into bed, placed a cold rag onto your head, and you think you heard him say something about bringing you soup later. Sleep crept up on you quickly and you were out before he even stepped out the door.

Now you were unfortunately awake, cursing whatever God could hear. This was absolutely awful. A dull throb ran through your skull insistently, mucus clotted your nose and throat, making your breaths uneven and raspy. You wanted to quench the ache in your throat but even the idea of sitting up seemed to drain too much energy, so you laid there in pain.

You assumed it was mid-afternoon. Kita had drawn the curtains above the window closed, leaving the room dark. You were especially grateful for this, for you knew any light would make your eyes hurt.

Your phone lay unchecked on the table face-down. The fear of worsening your headache is what caused it to stay there. Whoever wanted to talk would have to wait. You switched out the tissue in your nose for a fresh one, groaning again.

You wanted to take a shower so bad. You hated getting sick because you felt disgusting and knew you looked it too. Embarrassment bloomed when the events from this morning played in your mind.

Aran’s gonna joke about that for weeks.

A soft knock from the door drew you away from your thoughts. That’s probably Kita. A hoarse “come in” fell from your chapped lips and you internally cringed at how awful you sounded, even if it was just your childhood friend.

“You look like shit.”

That was not Kita.

“Suna? what the fuck?”

“Shut Up. You’re going to hurt your throat worse.”

Is this what I get for saying fuck you? I apologize so much anything but this please

“You’ve gone through two boxes of tissues already? Kita wasn’t lying, damn.”

You turned your head away from Suna’s voice, attempting to cover your sick-stricken face. Out of all people. It wasn’t that you didn’t like Suna- the two of you actually got along (if you count bickering back and forth all the time getting along). The problem was you happened to have a humongous crush on him.

The wing spiker had gotten on your nerves at first- smirks hidden behind a hand, foot sticking out to trip you in the hallway, drawing on your notes- he was almost unbearable. But as the both of you got older, you started returning his remarks, nudging him lightly into lockers, laughing at the twins together and sharing footage of their stupid fights.

Your crush had crept up on you almost unknowingly until one day he slung an arm over your shoulder and shot you one of his signature smirks and you were gone. It was infuriating, to say the least.

“Earth to y/n, hello y/n.”

“What.”

“Ah-ah, no speaking, remember?” You shot him a glare, receiving that smirk yet again. You cursed at the butterflies swarming your stomach.

Infuriating.

“You’re shivering.”

It was a simple comment. You realized after a beat that he was right and pulled the blanket farther up your body. He sat down the bag he held in his hand and made his way over to your bed. You squirmed in protest, trying to scooch away from his outstretched hand. Your actions caused Suna’s brows to furrow, a small line creasing on his forehead.

“I’m just going to check if you still have a fever,” he whispered, moving forward despite your futile attempts at moving away. You gave in, allowing him to gently place his hand on your forehead.

He wasn’t terribly close, he had been closer to you before this, but this felt different. More intimate.

“You’re burning up,” he said, leaning back with a sigh. “Sit tight, I’ll start a bath for you.”

You tried to keep your swarming thoughts at bay with no luck. Your crush, Suna Rintaro, is drawing a bath for you. A bath. He’s taking care of you.

Why is he being so nice? This has to be a set up, or Kita probably forced him. There’s no other way he would willingly be doing this...is there? You shut down the thought as quickly as it came. No sense in getting flustered over nothing. No need to fuel your growing crush.

You weren’t fit to complain anyways. The exact thing you wanted is being done right now, so you did as you were told, slightly sitting up to fetch yet another tissue. The pounding in your head still hadn’t ceased and a sudden cough racked your body. You wanted to cry- and you didn’t cry often. But you felt horrible.

“Hey, you okay?”

Apparently you hadn’t held up your facade well enough because a look of concern washed over Suna’s face the instant he stepped back into the room. You shook your head lightly in response to his question, feeling tears welling up behind your eyelids in spite of your attempts to keep them at bay.

The last thing you wanted to do was cry in front of Suna. It was practically a death wish. You could imagine the jokes and poking laughter he would send your way over the next few weeks, and it made you feel even worse.

“Hey, hey now, look at me.”

The words were whispered closer to you than you anticipated. Suna had sat down on the edge of your bed while you were caught up in your thoughts, that same line present between his brows. You fought the urge to touch it, facing away from him again and reaching up to wipe your eyes.

“I’m fine.” That instigated a scoff.

“No you’re not. Now c’mon, let’s get you into the bath. You’ll feel better.”

Right. A bath. Despite the fact that Suna’s presence was wearing you thin, a bath sounded great. The only problem was, you knew you were too weak to walk to your bathroom across the hall. It took so much energy to even sit up, much less actually get on your feet.

Suna must have sensed something was wrong because in mere seconds he was lifting the heavy blanket off of your body and moving closer. Your breath hitched when he moved one strong arm under your back and another under your knees, eyes concentrated.

“Put your arm around my neck,” Suna murmured. You failed to notice the blush that had lifted to his ears because your own was blossoming on your face, making your already warm cheeks heat up even more.

This is purgatory.

You did as he said, lightly wrapping your arm up his shoulder and around his neck. He picked you up in one smooth motion, shocking you. You knew he worked out because of volleyball, but jesus christ. Your head throbbed in protest to the movement, and you winced involuntarily.

“Sorry, shouldn’t have moved so fast.”

“S’fine.”

Your heart was beating frantically in your chest from the proximity. You were so close you could see the long eyelashes that framed his eyes, light traces of black eyeliner around the corners. You saved that in the back of your mind to ask about later.

Suna carried you into the bathroom and placed you gently on the counter. You pushed away the noise of protest that you wanted to let out from the loss of contact. No need to embarrass yourself even more.

“I’ll get you some clothes and leave them outside, take as long as you want.”

You murmured a small thank you as you watched him move towards the door. You hated that you missed him already.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be here the whole time.”

“Like I care.”

“Yea, okay princess.”

You glared at him as he closed the door behind him with a small chuckle. Princess. You fumed at the reaction you had to the pet name.

This is horrible. I’m horrible. I’ll just blame it on him. Him and that stupidly hot smirk.

The bath became increasingly inviting as you sat, eventually leading you to strip of your dirty clothes and step into the warm water. It felt amazing. After a few minutes you felt your eyes begin to droop, the steam luring you to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You didn’t know how long you had slept but judging by the temperature of the water, at least 15 minutes, maybe longer. The water hadn’t cooled completely but had lost its comfortable warmth. Begrudgingly you stepped out of the water and dried off.

You wrapped the towel around yourself and padded towards the door, opening it to retrieve the clothes Suna said he left for you. Just like he said, a small stack of clothes laid on the floor. You grabbed them and faced back towards the sink, wincing at your reflection in the mirror.

You really did look awful. Embarrassment settled into your bones again as you unfolded the clothes to put them on. A small part of your brain pointed out that they were big, too big to be your clothes, but a fit of coughs cut off your train of thought.

A knock came from the door. “Y/n? You okay?”

“Ye-“ Another cough broke off your sentence.

“Knock twice if you’re dressed.”

A small smile crept up on your face at the thought of Suna being considerate. You knocked on the door twice signaling him that it was okay for him to come in. A moment later it opened. Suna was holding what seemed to be a cup of tea in his hands and you reached for it with a sigh.

“Lavender, right?” You halted in your movements.

“Yea...how did you-“

“I pay attention.”

Your face flushed. His gaze never faltered from your face. How did he say that so casually?

“You look good in my clothes.”

So that’s why they were big. You looked in the mirror again, eyes locking in on the large “Inarizaki Volleyball” plastered on the front of the black material.

“Should wear ‘em more often.”

“Shut- shut up.”

“Mhm, okay. Feelin’ better?” You nodded.

“A little. Still feel like shit.”

“Look it, too.”

“Thanks, asshole.”

A light chuckle escaped him and he moved closer towards you. Something felt different. You noticed his eyes linger on you longer, many lapses of silence filled the spaces where playful arguing usually was.

“Cap texted me and asked to bring you soup, he had to do some more shit before he came over.”

“Hm.”

“What do you mean, hm?”

You didn’t get it. Why of all people would Kita send Suna to tend to you? What about Aran? Osamu? Hell, even Atsumu would have been higher on the list than Suna. Maybe…

“That bastard.”

“Woah now, what did Cap do to you?”

Kita was one of the only people who knew about your crush. Of course he would pull some strings to get Suna to come over. That little-

“Hey now pretty thing, don’t frown too much. You’ll get wrinkles.”

It was then you noticed a light touch on your forehead, right in between your eyebrows. Suna was rubbing the space there, just like you had wanted to do to him.

You hoped Suna couldn’t tell how fast your heart was beating or just how much you knew you were blushing.

After a moment of silence Suna still hadn’t removed the touch on your face. He met your eyes, slowly moving to cup your cheek.

“Why are you here, Rin?” His thumb stroked your cheek with a feather-like graze and you swore you saw his eyes flit downwards to your lips. “To take care of you, of course.”

“You’re going to catch my cold.”

“You’ll just have to pay me back later, yeah?”

His tongue darted out to wet his lips, the corners of his mouth edging upwards.

what the fuck did i do to deserve this?

You pushed his hand away and looked away from his gaze. You could manage standing from afar and pining, sure, but what you couldn’t deal with was Suna messing around with you like this. You ignored the ache in your chest, choosing to cover it up by reaching for another tissue.

“Y/n.” You ignored him.

“Y/n, look at me.” You braced your arms on the bathroom sink with a sigh.

“What, Suna.”

“Rin. It’s Rin, to you.” You scoffed.

“Why am I any different than anyone else?”

“Because…”

You turned to face him again, confusion and slight annoyance bubbling under your skin. “Because what?” Suna groaned and ran a hand over his face. “You’re so oblivious.”

Okay, now you were annoyed.

“Oblivious? How am I oblivious?”

“Because you haven’t realized how different you are.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Are you fucking messing with me Suna? Look, I’m in no mood for your stupid games-“

“Would you shut up for one second and think.”

You leaned back against the sink with a cough, wincing as another throb of pain shot through your head. Any traces of anger or annoyance vanished from Suna’s face in an instant. He left the bathroom and you heard him rustling through the bag he left in your room. He returned with a bottle of pills and an ice pack.

“Here. Take these.” You took the small pills from his outstretched hand and washed them down with the now lukewarm tea. “Have you thought about it?” You rolled your eyes dramatically, placing your hand under your chin to mock a thinking position. “No, I don’t think I have.” He rolled his eyes in return. “Fine. Would I be doing this for anyone else? Hm?”

It’s a good point. One you didn’t bother thinking about. Sure, maybe he would do it for his teammates, but that was a hard maybe. He just wasn’t the caretaker type, much less with someone he wasn’t close with. You realized the implication behind his words in an instant.

“You...you like me?”

“‘Bout time you figured that out, sweetheart.”

All of the moments between you two passed through your mind in a frenzy, and you started to laugh. It was hysterical, really. All this time you just knew Suna could never like you back.

i take it back. thank you. sorry for saying fuck you

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” He scoffed, “And risk losing my appearance? Hell no,” he said, sending you that damn smirk again.

“You are a menace, Rintaro.”

“Yea, but I’m your menace. You’re stuck with me.”

“That’s horrifying.”

“Oh shush, ya love me.”

“Yea, yea. Now, get me back in my bed. I need to sleep.”

“Inviting me to bed already? Wow y/n.”

“I hate you.” He reached over and pecked your cheek.

“Hate you, too.”

[9tzuyu]

dissolve (rewrite)

natasha x reader

note: this was just a huge vent fic idk. these type of fics seem to be the only thing im okay at writing. mistakes are mine as always. but i did proofread, yay!

if you want to read the original (as awful as it is) you can read it here!

wanrings: this heavily revolves around eating disorders.

i’m not tagging anyone because the content isn’t really the lightest to read.

words are used everyday, everywhere – whether to describe something or someone. there’s thousands upon thousands of them.

so you were having a hard time figuring out why you were struggling so much to justify your feelings through the basis of words. it was unnerving, draining and very annoying. your emotions should be simple, right? you were either sad or happy, angry or scared. but there was something more, something unexplainable. saying you felt alone only scratched the surface of the wave of emotion that took over. it was excruciatingly painful, far worse than any physical pain you ever had to endure. and for some reason it seemed to come crashing down at night while natasha slept peacefully. you weren't exactly sure how to express your emotions to the extent you felt them. how else was anyone supposed to understand your pain? they couldn't, not unless they could somehow shift into your body and feel your emotions themselves. but that was merely impossible as such powers do not exist. so you were inevitably stuck with words foreign to your lips. over the years you were deemed unsafe, a hazard, "an accident waiting to happen" you recall one doctor say. everyone’s eyes were on you at all times, monitoring every little movement you made. it was suffocating and at times doing more damage than good.

as an adult now you learned how freeing it could be without the fear of gaining weight or eating a bowl full of rainbow marshmallow cereal. your worth was not defined by your weight.

(at least that's what you believed prior to any relapses.) everything was going well in your life. you were a college graduate working as a psychiatric nurse and you had found love, something your teenage self could only dream of. natasha was by your side through everything. and really, the only downfall in the relationship was that she had to travel a lot for her job. but you were secure enough in your relationship not to worry or decide to call things off. in the end natasha always made up for it when she came back, so you couldn't complain too much. things were going well for you, really, they were. until they weren't. (and you didn't know why.) it happened out of nowhere. work was a little more stressful than usual, but it was nothing you couldn't handle. natasha had been away for three months, only stopping by a few times to check in on you. but again, your wife being away for so long wasn't anything new or worrisome. the two of you had followed the routine of her leaving and coming back more than a thousand times; yet somewhere along the way you lost yourself. food became less of a priority, your hunger decreased drastically, and within the first month you'd lost thirteen pounds. it truly was an accident, slipping into a full blown relapse was never part of the plan. but thirteen pounds lighter you wanted more, to feel small again. you didn't have an answer as to why you became so attached to your eating disorder, but it didn't seem like it would be letting go any time soon. the rate at which you were going natasha would most definitely be able to see a difference; not only on your weight, but in the person you once were. she'd ask what happened and why it happened, poking and prodding for an answer, but you didn't have one. so here you stood in the kitchen of your shared home, a cup of sliced fruit in one hand and your cell phone in the other. you poured the fruit into the bottom of a blender along with a spoonful of yogurt and half a cup of soy milk. another half cup of ice followed suit. while the fruit blended, you shamelessly scrolled through your instagram. there was nothing interesting going on in other people's lives, you didn't even know why you had social media in the first place. it was dumb, and quite frankly you didn't give a shit whether or not sharon went to the beach. the sound of your blender coming to a halt brought your attention back to the real world. you poured your smoothie into your water bottle. the green liquid would be your breakfast and lunch for the day - dinner was still up for debate. a soft sigh left your lips. work was beginning to feel more like a chore and less of something you enjoyed. you were quickly growing tired of it. nonetheless, you grabbed your keys and rushed out of the door.

you thought about the irony of working as a psychiatric nurse with an undealt eating disorder telling teenagers how to deal with their own issues. you felt hypocritical to say the least, especially given that all the nasty side effects were starting to make themselves known.

your hair was beginning to thin, small clumps of it already starting to fall out when you tugged a little too hard. bruises could be seen scattered left and right on your body, and you were cold. god you were cold. your fingernails were tinted blue, warmth seemingly too far out of reach. you looked ill, and it didn't go unnoticed by your coworkers.

a few hours into your shift you found yourself sitting behind the nurses station filling out paperwork. lunch had passed and when your coworker, steve, asked if you were going to eat something you lied straight through your teeth, telling him you'd grab something when the patients were eating dinner.

but steve rogers could read you like an open book. he knew you were lying because he already knew what was going on. the signs of an eating disorder were quite obvious when you were a licensed therapist. and despite your futile attempts at hiding it, everyone could tell something wasn't right.

steve played it by ear for weeks until he contacted natasha, but by then you'd already lost a considerable amount of weight. as soon as she heard the news, natasha booked the next flight home. unfortunately for her though, there was only one flight and she would have to wait two and a half weeks before being able to leave.

you didn't know it, but those were the longest two and a half weeks natasha ever had to wait.

– patients were having group therapy, so you could tune them out - not that you should, but it was hard to focus when the only two things you could think about were food and your weight.

the need to lose weight sounded so stereotypical for someone with an eating disorder, but honestly it wasn't about that. it was never about wanting to be thin. you genuinely didn't know why this was happening. the only thing you noticed was how rewarding it felt seeing the number go down, as if for you were good for becoming less. it was addictive. and it didn't help that you based your entire worth on how much you could lose.

the next time you stood up from behind the nurses station steve met you in the the cafeteria. while the patients ate you took occasional sips from your smoothie. the bottle was still full of its contents from the morning. you had completely forgotten to drink it during the day, but you didn't seem to mind it that much.

the surprise touch of steve's hand on your shoulder startled you.

i am gross, you thought. do not do that.

steve caught onto the slight flinch your body produced as a reflex, but he didn't say anything about it.

"you can leave early, boss said so."

he laughed as he saw confusion plaster your face.

"what? no!"

"go home, seriously. we have this handled. you know tony doesn't like being told no."

you bit your lip, puzzled by the sudden request. most people wouldn't mind being sent home early, but all it did for you was give you a level of anxiety reserved for food.

what you didn't know was that natasha was home waiting for your arrival. she came back just short of an hour after you left for work.

while you were gone natasha made a few thorough rounds in the house looking for key signs of your eating disorder. there was bound to be evidence given that you didn't know she was home.

unsurprisingly, natasha found a glass scale beside the counter of the bathroom floor along with empty bottles of laxatives in the trashcan. the food in the fridge had been expired a few days past their date, giving her the indication that you weren't eating as much as you should be. her concern grew even more when she found your food journal on your nightstand. flipping the pages, natasha could see that throughout the moths she'd been gone your calorie intake had decreased significantly.

guilt began to gnaw at the back of her throat.

during the few days natasha stopped by, she hadn't noticed anything wrong with you. but then again she knew most people with eating disorders were very good at hiding them up until the point they were discovered. three days wasn't near enough time for her to catch onto your tricks, not when her mind was still focused on her job.

natasha always listened intently whenever you would talk about your eating disorder, the first time being six months into the relationship on a date you felt like you had ruined.

but talking about it was much different than experiencing it with you, natasha had never done that before up until now. she read nearly every article there was about anorexia, bulimia, binge eating disorder and ednos. sometimes when you were asleep she would watch documentaries on the disorder, always making sure to keep her volume at a low level.

the videos that hurt her the most were the ones teenagers struggling with the simple task of eating food.

(although natasha knew it wasn't that simple.)

it hurt because she knew that was you at some point in time.

upon your arrival, natasha cooked dinner. she wanted to hold onto the one sliver of hope that steve was wrong - that he was just overreacting - but she knew in her heart he was right about his assumption. however, dinner would only confirm what natasha so desperately wanted to deny.

when you walked through the door you were greeted with the overwhelming scent of food. you cringed at the thought of having to eat, but as soon as you looked up to see the redhead who'd been gone for so long your frown was washed away. a wide smile overtook your face and you rushed to jump into natasha's arms.

"i missed you so much," you whispered. "i thought you'd be gone for another few weeks?"

natasha's arms found their way around your waist as your legs wrapped around hers. "what? i can't come home early to surprise my wife?" you giggled in the crook of her neck. she smiled feeling the vibrations against her skin, happy to know that you'd missed her just as much as she missed you.

she sat you down, back facing you, she tended to the food. "you've lost weight," she commented, not missing the sharp inhale of your breath.

"how was work, nat?"

she nodded to herself. yeah, she didn't expect you to be so open on the first try.

"it was fine. dinner's ready, i made your favorite!" natasha threw a smile in your direction as she carried the plates over to the table. she had hoped to see your face light up the way it used to, but seeing the panicked look in your eyes further confirmed your relapse.

if nothing else, natasha wanted you to have a meal before she brought up the conversation.

"great... i love it, thank you nat!" your attempt at being enthusiastic failed miserably and you knew by the look she gave you, she already knew what was going on.

but throughout the meal, and despite the shakiness of your hand as it gripped the metal fork, natasha didn't say anything.

you weren't really sure which was worse; being confronted or knowing the both of you knew what the other was thinking and still not addressing it.

natasha's meal was good, you couldn't lie about that, but each bite you chewed caused the tightening in your chest to constrict further.

now you couldn't be good. or worthy. or deserving.

nat took away your plate when you were halfway through. she knew your limits, and she didn't want to push you too much out of your comfort zone.

"go change, i'll wash our dishes. meet you on the couch?"

you did as you were told, taking as long as you could to do so. except this time was different. you didn't glance in the mirror like you usually did, you chose to fully take in your figure.

what you saw was not what you expected to see. for the first time in months you saw a version of yourself that wasn't twisted and turned to be something you didn't know was real or not.

your skin was dry, hair thinned out beyond your belief, eyes sunken and dark underneath. the revelation gave you an odd feeling – was once again something unexplainable, unjustifiable by words.

good.

that was how you were supposed to feel, right? after all of this time, after the many pounds of protection and warmth lost, you were supposed to feel good.

but you didn't. and you never would.

there was something so surreal about the realization of your own destruction. you were aware now, which meant you had to either take responsibility or choose to lose everything you worked so hard for.

"y/n?"

your wife's voice snapped you out of your gaze and you scrambled to pile your dirty clothes and rush out of the bedroom.

as you made your way into the living room you could feel the intensity of natasha's gaze. any other time you would not mind her green eyes looking at you, but this time around you felt like you were in trouble.

she patted the empty spot next to her, to which you reluctantly joined. but even after everything you still tried to play it cool.

"what's up? is everything okay?"

she gave a low chuckle, "you tell me."

"what do you mean?"

"oh i think you know what i mean."

natasha’s reply was met with the loudest silence you ever had to sit through.

she bit her lip, "you know i got a call from steve a few weeks ago. he's concerned about you, and from what he's told me so am i."

you were quick to respond, automatically knowing what steve’s phone call was about. "i'm fine. so what if i've lost a couple of pounds? that doesn't automatically mean that im relapsing, natasha."

your quick snap reminded natasha that this kind of confrontation was like walking on eggshells.

she tilted her head, licking her lips. "i'm here with you, always." nat put a hand to the side of your face, gently rubbing her thumb at the top of your cheekbone. "i'm here."

it seemed pointless now to try and say anything because your secret was already out.

your mind began racing back and forth.

you wanted to keep what you knew best and natasha understood that. even by reading your body language she knew what you were debating.

"you know, to keep it you have to give it away." your eyes darted to meet hers. "mhm. you can still have that piece of you. mourn it, grieve it, do whatever you need to do to move onto a stage where it doesn't hurt you. and from there you can help other people, share your experience, let yourself heal by helping others."

she paused, “we all have choices. some of those choices are taken from you while others leave you with only one option.”

although what she said seemed to resonate with you, there was one thing still holding you back.

"i just want to be good."

natasha hummed. you had explained it to her in the past, though your words were jumbled together as you tried to describe it.

"you can be good in other ways. you're allowed to live a life outside of the barriers your eating disorder puts in the way."

you swallowed the lump in the back of your throat. "i don't even know how it got to this point. in january i enjoyed ihop and dennys. in february i could have oatmeal and bananas, sometimes half of a sandwhich if i was feeling brave. now it’s march and i only eat one or two things a day. the idea of having a full meal makes me want to cry. and i just- i don't know how to stop."

natasha wouldn't show it, but your words cut through her heart like a knife. her mind wandered briefly to all the teenagers in the documentaries she'd watched, hoping you weren't too far gone into your eating disorder to ever come back. those cases scared her the most.

"you've got my complete support. you've tackled this before, maybe this time you can beat it? i know its easier to abuse your body instead of growing comfortable in it, but i think you’ve got this. i know you do."

"what about your work?" your question caused natasha to frown. "you think i wouldn't set my job aside for you?" you shrugged, it's not like you felt like you were worth being taken care of anyway.

natasha grew hesitant to tell you her news, but did it anyway because she’d rather you hate her than see you dead. "i've already made some appointments for you. the first one is tomorrow morning."

"i figured you would natasha. it's okay."

you spaced yourself out the rest of the day. each time you made the executive decision to recover, whether that be a genuine recovery or not, the process never failed to remind you that even trying to recover from an eating disorder felt like mourning the loss of a friend who was never good for you in the first place.

[simpingfortheages]

//EYE CONTACT//

CORDELIA GOODE X FEM READER

(ANGST AND FLUFF)

A/N : she be looong as fuck sorry nat sorry 😂

Eyes are the gateways to the soul, words and feelings can be exchanged by a simple act of making eye contact.

Cordelia is busy and seems to no longer have time for the reader . All the reader wanted to do was help.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~♤~~~~~~~~~~~~~♤~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cordelia knew that being Supreme was tiresome, but she never thought that it would be to this extent. She hasn't slept in almost a week and she is pretty sure that there is coffee coarsing her veins instead of blood. Cordelia has been up, keeping track of all the suspicious activities happening around the world in hopes the cause is a witch. That's just Cordelia for you. She is always looking out for others before herself. Putting the needs of others before her own. Staying up all day and night so that she can grow and teach those in her coven. She really is deserving of Supreme. Cordelia has been trying to rub the sleep out of her eyes for the past while. Her head bobbing while filling out documents and having to shake her head ever so often to keep on track of whatever file she was reading. Cordelia's new project has been her trying to track down this other witch, however her attempts have been futile. Everytime she thinks she has a lead on the witch she seems to change location and vanish . The witch is powerful and would be a great addition to the Coven. This took a toll on her, She was snappish and everyone knew it, but no one blamed her because she was stressed, even Madison didn't annoy Cordelia or made any snarky comments. After internally debating with herself, the choice of sleep won. She shifted the stack of paper that she was currently working on to the side of the mahogany desk. She laid her arm on the desk and laid her head between the crook of the elbow while her other hand tried to massage away the 3rd on coming migraine. Her migraine for the past days were seemingly becoming worse, as though her body was begging her to stop and reset herself. She didn't have a choice at this point, she needed to rest otherwise she would have crashed and gotten less time to get work done.

Y/N's POV

I am fairly new to Ms Robichaux's academy, I was "enrolled" 3 months ago, not by choice but by force. I set my mother's boyfriend on fire out of accident. YES BY ACCIDENT.... Well maybe not all the way an accident. I got angry and let my temper get the best of me. Surprisingly I didn't get in trouble from my mother, she said something about a witch bloodline. I didn't really pay much attention to her words or have much time to react to what i did,because my mother was quick to call some witch lady whose hair was firey red and the way she spoke was regal. I later learned on the ride to the academy, that her name was Myrtle Snow. I have learnt the names of my fellow sisters Madison, Zoey, Queenie, Coco and Mallory. So far they have been fairly nice to me but I don't really interact with them much. Most of the times I keep to myself and listen to Fleetwood Mac in my room all by myself. Apparently everyone has someone to room with but me,not that I am complaining. But i must say, out of everyone in the Coven whom I've met so far, my favourite is the Surpeme. The first time we met I was taken aback by her beauty. The way her blonde hair rested delicately on her squared shoulders , the way her makeup was done in such a way that it highlighted all of her best features, which by the looks of it. It was her whole body. Her eyes were captivating , she smiled at me through them. I couldn't help but stare right back into her dark brown eyes, they held power and safety. The eye contact wasn't uncomfortable, it was an unspoken exchange.

Cordelia took it upon herself to show me around my new home. It was majestic, I took note of every detail ,from the paint brush strokes done on the painting that hung on the walls to the crack on the 4th step going up the twin staircases. My favourite place however was the Greenhouse. Well, her greenhouse. She told me that it was her place of relaxation,her get away from it all. The walls were covered with vines, the sunroof allowed the golden rays of the sun to filter into the room and paint all that it touches. The walls variety of plant species and herbs that she has collected over the years was quite impressive. It was beautiful. Overtime this became our habit. After dinner or lunch we would both make our way to the Greenhouse to create new concoctions. Whether it would be sleeping potions, manipulation potions or simply love potions. We never used on each other , it was just done merely for the fun of it. I felt happy for the first time in many. The little hugs ,inside jokes and nicknames we would share. It was all innocent fun at the time until, one time I was making a potion and Cordelia stood right behind me watching my every moves. I don't know what came over me, I dont know if it was the closeness of our proximity ,the warm breathe of her breathing that brushed my neck whenever she exhaled or the fact that she kissed my cheek right after telling me how good of a job I was at following orders. After that day I can't help but blush whenever we locked eyes. Light brown on dark brown. Neither of us looked away. Her eyes felt like home, a place that i longed to be. These few months I've developed quite an attachment to the Supreme,one might even say a crush on her.

However these past days I noticed that she was quite distant. She wouldn't catch on to the jokes I made, like she normally would. The amount of times she paced up and down the walkway in the Greenhouse, the layer of dirt and colour of orange on the brick floor started to fade. Cordelia kept ranting and complaining about finding a certain witch. Of course I didn't mind her talking to me. I always liked to know what new projects she was up too. But It was evident that this one occupied her mind. When she was with me, she wasn't with me mentally just her physical appearance. She would sometimes forget about our daily meet up, some days turned into few days and eventually a few days turned into none. I didn't hold anything against her. She was busy. I took it upon myself to help her find who this witch was. So you know she can spend more time with me,it wasn't a selfish act. Just killing two birds with one stone. Cordelia would be able to finally relax and I would get to spend time with her more often. It's a Win/ Win.

Cordelia just went into her office so that meant I had basically the whole evening until dinner to find out who this witch was. As I sauntered my way to my room. I began to recollect all what Cordelia told me. It was a little witch on the run, maybe she didn't what to join a Coven like me. Cordelia knew every thing about the little witch. She was a slippery one, evading the hands of the Surpeme. I remember her saying that the witch was a little younger than I was, with black hair and green eyes. Her speciality is Cloaking, she could cover her tracks very well. A rare skill some witches possess.I laid out my pens and my leather bound notebook on the bed and started to make notes of what i knew so far. After I was done, I realised it wasn't much information. I needed more if i was going to help Cordelia. I needed to see from another set of eyes. I shifted my notes aside and laid flat on the bed. I closed my eyes and focused on my breathing. No one knew but i was Clairvoyant. I could make myself hear and see what someone was thinking.

******time skip*******

THAT'S IT !!. I found the witch. She was running from something or someone. The little witch was seeking safety,maybe she did need to be in a Coven. Without any time to waste. I quickly wrote down all that I gathered into my note book. I couldn't contain my excitement, Cordelia and I will finally get to hang out like old times. I scrambled off my bed and made a beeline towards her office. *knock knock* "Dee I found out how to get the witc-" I began,but she wasn't in her office. Huh where is she then? . After a few minutes of futile searching in the upstairs I decided to check the kitchen. As I walked downstairs, the kitchen came into my view. There she was. My supreme making her possible 7th cup of coffee. I couldn't help my heart from fluttering at the sight of her. We haven't spoken in so long. " Hey Dee, do you remember when we used to hang out in the Greenhouse, i miss those times but thats not the point, anyways you always used to speak about this witch you couldn't find??Apparently I never told you but i am Clairvoyant which is really handy beca-" I rambled but was quickly cut off by Corldeia," Y/N! Be quiet . Stop talking Oh my God shut up. Please can't you see that I am busy and tired??"

Immediately I felt small, wishing the ground would just swallow me whole. Her eyes were locked on mine, the once safety and calm that I loved were replaced with anger and annoyance ....at me. I could feel my chest tighten, so tight that it began to squeeze my heart till it slowly cracked. I bit my tongue to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. It was evident that Cordelia's expressions changed based on my now small demeanour. I forcefully swallowed the lump that built in my throath. Out of hurt I threw my notebook on the marble counter where she rested her half way made coffee. The only words i spat out were "There's how to get your witch to join this shithole Coven Miss Goode". Her mouth was now slightly ajar at my words. No longer wanting to stay in her presence, I turned my heels and made my way back up to my room as Cordelia struggled to find her words.

*******TIME SKIP PT 2********

Thanks to me Cordelia managed to get in contact with the witch who will be joining the Coven in 2 weeks time. For these past few days I have suscessfully managed to avoid Cordelia. Of course I didn't avoid her presence. I had more dignity than that. I just made sure that I was never alone with her. That way she couldn't "apologise"or ask me the questions she really wanted too. I was mad at her. She didn't have to yell at me,I know i am talkative to people when i get comfortable with them, but still out of everyone to yell at me I would never suspect that it would be her. I no longer joined her in the Greenhouse to help her with her potions. Having breakfast and lunch with everyone was the worst. I no longer sat next to her at the table, instead I sat next to Madison,but that didn't stop her from trying to talk to me. As everyone else engaged in mini conversations at the table, Cordelia silently spoke to me from the head of the table " Y/N how have you been?". I lifted my head and focused my gaze from my tea cup to the silver in her bracelet, dismissing the hopeful look in her eyes. "I've been better Ms .Goode" I replied with extra emphasis on her last name. You know for an extra punch of guilt. Cordelia has noticed my lack of eye contact over the past days and she couldn't help but feel hurt at the act.

********time skip pt3**********

It was probably about 7 pm when i heard the clattering on heels on the floor. Shifting my attention from the crackling of the fireplace I looked over my shoulder to see that all the girls were dressed up and ready to head out somewhere. "Hey? Where are you guys going?" I questioned. "Out." Said Madison. I couldn't help but scoff at her reply. "Okayy???And you didn't ask me because??". Madison abruptly turned around "You and Cordy need to fix whatever is going on between you too. Don't think we haven't seen the change" she commented as she roughly pressed her index finger into my chest. Before I could even find my words. The door was slammed in my face. If Madison and the girls think that I am staying alone in the academy with Cordelia alone they are wrong. In another situation I would have taken that chance in a heartbeat. Lost and confused at the exchange that just happened, this gave Cordelia time to enter the living room. " Y/N?" She spoken almost in a whisper. I swear to the ex Supreme herself my eyes almost jumped out my eye sockets . My movements were stiffened as i tried to turn around. I took a deep breathe and attempted to make the situation fall into the better of my hands. " Yes Ms Goode? How are you?" I asked, while facing the floor. " I am sorry y/n I didn't mean to yell at you, you helped me a lot on my project and I cannot repay you enough" Cordelia spoke. I genuinely smiled at her gratitude "you're so very welcome Ms Goode" . Suddenly I felt her hands wrap around my form pulling me in a strong hug. I was stunned for a while and didn't know how to react. Sobs and small apologises fell from her lips as she buried her head into the crook of my neck. I reciprocated her hug but this caused her to cry even more. " Ms Goode please don't cry" I tried to comfort her, but all that left her mouth was a small, muffled "no". As she calmed herself she pulled away and wiped her tears away as she tried to look presentable. "Don't call me that. Call me by my nickname" she demaded. I chuckled at her command " okay dee." She cupped my face into her soft palms. I could smell her vanilla lotion that she regularly applies on her hands. She lifted my face to hers, but my eyes still didnt need hers. " y/n look at me" she whimpered. " Dee I am looking at you" I said smiling nervously as my eyes darted over the beautiful features of her face, never settling on her eyes. " baby..." she whispered. My heart constricted . Cordelia repeated the statement to look at her once more. This time I complied. Did she really mean that? does she like me back?. Her eyes were watering, her gorgeous brown eyes even when they hold the emotion of hurt. I still cannot help but stare in awe. Her eyes were filled with longing and hope. I don't know who closed the gap but our lips met in the middle. Kissing Cordelia was pure ecstasy, the kiss was one of tender and love. It felt as though part of me was finally completed. After a while we both pulled away, she delicately laced her slender fingers together with mine, interlocking our hands. Both of us trying to catch our breathe , Cordelia slowly leaned forward and gently rested her forehead against mine. Ever so quietly whispering to me the sweet words," and I do feel the same..."

[archerdaryl]

London in Your Eyes.

After pulling your name for Secret Santa, Daryl comes and finds you at the Christmas fair. Inspired by Last December by Nina Nesbitt.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Tags: cute christmas vibes, sfw, a lil sad a lil fluffy a lil slow burn?? Word Count: around 3k Notes: This is my very first fanfiction I’ve written in literal years -- I’d love to hear what you guys think as I’m a little nervous but I hope you enjoy it!!

Against the soft blankets of snow that had long settled since the beginning of December, flashes of red and green could be seen wherever you looked from the guard tower. Amongst them were shadows you recognised, the figures of the people weaving themselves in and out of various stalls that had been set up for the Christmas fair.

You wanted to object to it the first time The King brought it up, especially after the events that occurred at the original. It seemed futile, you weren’t sure you could take another massacre, and it was too God damn cold to be lingering outside. And yet, you folded.

You couldn’t argue with hope. And if Ezekial was good at anything, it was inspiring just that.

Snowflakes had begun to dance in the evening air once more as you diverted your attention back towards the forest that surrounded the walls. You could hear Luke sing what sounded like a song you used to know but couldn’t quite make out as he made his way to his stall where he had wooden instruments up for trade. Down the same lane were various baked goods and crafts made by different members of the community. The kids even had their own art stall, endearingly decorated with looped paper covered in paint and cotton wool shaped into snowmen.

Ezekiel had asked if you wanted to contribute anything. You declined, not because you didn’t want to help but because playing pretend had never been something you were good at -- even as a kid yourself. And especially at Christmas time.

Of course, you played it off a lot more casually than that. You weren’t one to divulge the details of traumas that no longer mattered in the grand scheme of things. After making fun of your lack of artistic talent you insisted on keeping watch for the majority of the evening so that everyone else could enjoy what the fair had to offer. You knew where you stood in that tower. You couldn’t feel the tip of your nose and you had to keep bouncing your knees to maintain circulation, but you felt secure.

You brought your gloved hands up to your mouth and huffed, allowing the warmth to wash over your fingers. You had been up there for several hours now and the most exciting thing to happened was a walker in a hard hat causing a scene by clanging its head against the metal walls. Someone else manning the perimeter had dealt with it, taking what little entertainment you could have had away from you, but at least no one had to worry about an oncoming herd.

“Hey.”

You turned swiftly towards a voice drenched in a Southern drawl, eyebrows raised in surprise knitting themselves together.

“You need to stop doing that.”

“Doin’ wha’?”

“Sneaking up on me.”

Daryl Dixon was one of few people who got the jump on you and it was equal parts annoying and endearing. You stood upright from the post you had been leaning on and took a couple of steps towards him, eyes adjusting to his height as you did so.

“Didn’ mean to.” He confessed, “Thought you might be bored.”

“Maybe a little.” You sighed, “I’m mostly just cold.”

He watched you carefully, one hand fiddling with something in his jacket pocket while the other swung at his side holding a large flask. Your cheeks and nose were pink and he found himself indebted to the harsh winds that were to blame.

“Is that-”

“Mulled wine.” He interrupted, “Whatever tha’ is.”

The pair of you had been dancing around something unspoken for the past year, aware but unwilling to cross a line that could ruin the comfort you found in each other. That and you had both seen what happened to people who got attached to others. It was uncharted territory neither of you had ventured into with anyone for a long long time, and though he often daydreamed of you like a teenager and you were constantly worrying about him, the risk seemed too much.

“You’ve never had mulled wine?” You asked curiously, taking the flask he handed to you and shivering slightly as you wrapped your palms around it, “It’s really good actually. And hot.”

The question may as well have been rhetorical. The pair of you hadn’t shared a great deal about your lives before the dead took over, but he had told you enough that you knew Daryl was raised on beer and moonshine. You cared for neither, admittedly. Gin had always been your vice.

“Besides, I thought you liked to drink alone Dixon.”

He exhaled in amusement but didn’t offer a retort. Instead he stepped towards the cabinet at the back of the watch tower and retrieved a large blanket. Your mouth practically dropped to the floor and he fought a smile from creeping onto his lips.

You hadn’t even thought to check. Your cheeks grew even pinker.

“C’mon. Ain’t’ nothin’ happenin’ in the next ten minutes.”

With furrowed brows you looked back out onto the forest, studying its movement and mystery. Chances are, he was right. Nothing had happened so far and nothing likely would, but that didn’t stop you from worrying.

“Don’ make me take back tha’ wine.”

“No! Don’t you dare.” You whipped your head back towards him and narrowed your eyes. “It’s warm.”

“So’s this blanket. Come on.”

You made a point of rolling your eyes as you followed Daryl out onto the deck. Before you could complain about the cold (which honestly wasn’t that much worse than inside the tower) Daryl had shook out the blanket and wrapped it around your shoulders. You mumbled a thank you as he lowered himself to the ground and allowed his legs to swing free over the edge of the deck. You followed suit, the flask of hot mulled wine still between your hands acting like your own personal furnace.

It was darker now and hundreds of lights had been switched on so that people could still find their way around the fair. Even you couldn’t deny the wonder and whimsy of it all. Kids were throwing snowballs, families were laughing and making memories that were worth something. There was makeshift tinsel and decorations all over the place and the rich scent of pig and apple sauce hung in the air. In the sweet silence you shared with the archer, there was a moment you forgot where you were. The world you now lived in was an afterthought, and the Christmas fair was an almost perfect picture of somewhere you yearned to be.  

Daryl noticed the unmistakable twinkle of mourning in your eyes before you could even try to force a smile. He reached for the flask and took it from you, unscrewing its lid and pouring you a cup of mulled wine. He took a swig straight from the bottle and though he furrowed his brows and smelled the contents immediately afterwards, he didn’t complain.

“Ain’t ever seen nothin’ like this.” He offered.

You took a large sip and closed your eyes, savouring every note that swam across your tongue.

“I have. A long time ago.”

“Yeah?”

Your eyes flit open and you looked right at him. In what little light was left you could see his lips were already slightly stained red. You didn’t doubt your own were the same. He watched your mouth as you took another sip.

“My family was close. Always saved up their holidays so we could get a long Christmas together.” You found yourself lowering your gaze as you spoke, soon returning it to the hustle and bustle before you,  “Spent a couple years in London. They had markets just like these. Winter Wonderland I think they called it. Never thought I’d see anything like it again.”

It was abundantly clear from the very beginning that the pair of you had led very different lives before the world went to waste. He liked talking about his past even less than you did and for very different reasons too. You never pushed like some of the other’s did. In the end that was likely what pushed you both together.

“It’s funny how shit like that sneaks up on you.” You continued, “Every time I think I’ve moved on or let something go it just… I don’t know. None of this should even matter anymore.”

“You got a past worth rememberin’.” You felt a large hand tug at the blanket hanging around you, pulling it to make sure it didn’t fall, “Ain’t no shame in that.”

In truth, Daryl enjoyed listening to you reminisce. It was a rare gift you offered him, one that he would have found annoying from anyone else considering the stark differences in your upbringing. But you spoke about your past like you were telling a story, keeping that little bit of distance so it didn’t wash over you all at once. Whether you knew it or not, you handed him another puzzle piece every time you let him in. He could sit there and listen to you for hours. He wanted to.

A calloused hand found its way into his jacket once again, fiddling with a small object wrapped in aluminium foil. Now didn’t seem appropriate. They still had time.

“Aren’t you cold?”

“Nah.” His cheeks said otherwise, “Wines doing the trick.”

You pulled your legs up and shimmied a little closer to him to him anyways before forcing your arm through his. He didn’t object, not even when you leaned on him a little.

“What other shit did they have in London?” He pushed.

“Mulled cider. That’s probably more up your street” You took your last sip before nudging him to top the cup up, “I used to love these little pancake balls covered in Nutella, strawberries, and icing sugar. Wasn’t Winter Wonderland unless I was covered in chocolate by the end of it.”

Daryl slowly lowered the side of his head down onto yours. It didn’t feel like too much, like you’d suddenly catch yourself and make excuses to go back on watch. Instead, you kept talking, and Daryl kept fiddling with the gift in his pocket.

“I remember it being loud. Music and people everywhere. And it was cold, but never as cold as this. Didn’t really snow there, which I always thought was weird.”

“If you wan’ loud I heard Luke and Jerry were gon’ go carollin’ later.”

A chuckle escaped you as you took another gulp of wine, “You know what, I think I’ll stay up here.”

Comfortable silence took over as you both watched the fair. It had barely quietened down, even though a lot of people had begun their ride back to Hilltop or Alexandria. It was the first time in a long time that there wasn’t a human threat to worry about, so why wouldn’t people make the most of a time like this? You only wished you could let go like others could.

“Oh, shit.” You sat up suddenly, “I forgot about that Secret Santa thing Jerry made us do.”

“Who’s name d’ya pull?”

“It’s supposed to be Secret Santa.” You paused and sighed, “I pulled Jesus. Is this irony? It feels ironic. I’ll figure it out.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of Daryl’s lips as he leaned forward onto the wooden barrier keeping them from falling if either of them were to take a wrong step. He felt something gnawing at him in the pit of his stomach, and he swallowed hard in a futile attempt to get rid of it before clearing his throat.

“Who’s name did you pull?”

“Like ya’ said, it’s Secret Santa.” He grumbled.

You rotated yourself slightly to face him, allowing just one leg to hang free from the deck whilst the other was bent at the knee. 

“Don’t be an asshole, Dixon.” You pleaded, “Tell me!”

“Mind ya’ business.”

“Unless it’s me I don’t see why you can’t tell me.”

Daryl stayed quiet and you couldn’t help but laugh in both amusement and disbelief.

“You’re kidding. Did you really get me something?”

“Will you shut up? You ain’t even s’posed t’ know.”

He finally turned his head to find you unable to suppress the grin spreading across your face. Your eyes were twinkling again, but not with the sadness of earlier. That paired with the blush on your nose and cheeks from the cold and your little hands clinging desperately to the blanket around you made it impossible to say no. That gnawing feeling grew and he took a large breath before retrieving his hand from his pocket.

“Don’ tell Jerry.”

He passed you an strangely shaped object covered in aluminium foil. You took it from him and beamed. You weren’t sure why you were surprised he actually got you something. Maybe it was the fact he thought to wrap it at all, or that he was trying to follow the rules so it really would be a surprise. Would you have ever known it was him if you hadn’t pestered him in this moment? You held the gift in your hands as if it could break at any second whilst your heart was attempting to beat itself out of your chest.

“Do you want me to wait?” You asked, just in case, “I can open it later.”

Daryl shook his head and grabbed the flask again, taking several gulps to warm up his insides. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you, studying your features carefully waiting for a sign of repulsion or embarrassment. It never came and without realising it his own features softened.

“It’s yours. Sorry I couldn’ find any paper.”

“It’s shiny and it serves its purpose.” You responded without hesitation, “It’s perfect.”

You carefully unfolded the foil in a futile attempt not to tear it and destroy the fantasy Daryl had created for you. The intricate motions felt painfully slow, and with every layer you tore away the nastier the self-deprecation in his head got. He felt stupid for trying. Was it too much? Was it not enough? He had no fuckin’ idea. Even before the world went to shit he didn’t come from the kind of family that exchanged gifts. He wanted to run, but he couldn’t. All he could do was drink and bite at the skin of his lips until they bled.

“Oh my god.”

He swallowed hard and braced himself for the worst. Your eyebrows were drawn together as you studied the object in all its detail. Eventually you shook it, and you grinned again.

“Where the hell did you find something like this?”

It was a snowglobe, somehow perfectly intact despite the number of years it had been collecting dust in a world full of violence and filth. Daryl had stumbled upon it on a run where he had found a strip of houses to loot. It was sat on a mantelpiece, and though Daryl didn’t know much about England or even London, he knew about Big Ben.

You shook it again and laughed. He watched you gaze at it in wonder, eyeing the details on the clock tower as plastic snow danced around it. Most of his anxieties melted away at the sight of that alone, but he still felt uneasy, as if he had done something wrong.

“I love it, Daryl. I didn’t even realise I’d spoken about London before.”

He nodded, his words stuck in the back of his throat. You had only mentioned London once before, something in passing, but he remembered. He remembered everything you said to him over the years. Maybe that was why this felt so wrong, as if he had taken this -- whatever this is -- too far.

Your heart was still thumping. Daryl had never been a talker, but he’d also never failed to show you that he cared. Even just by doing little things like making sure you ate properly or were sleeping okay. This was a different kind of show and tell and you weren’t sure what to do with it. 

Your affection for the archer had snuck up on you a long time ago and you usually found it quite easy to push it down and away. There were other things to concern yourself with, things to do to make sure not just you but your community could survive. But right now you were stuck in a loop. Behind his grouchy disposition was a warmth you desperately wanted to wrap yourself in.

The blanket wasn’t enough. Not right now. 

“It’s nothin’.” He finally responded, and this time you were lost for words.

You turned back towards the fair, avoiding his blue gaze as you thought to yourself. Neither of you knew what the hell this was or what the hell you were doing. You had spent so much time ignoring or rejecting the possibility of something more that now it had slapped you both across the face you were dumbfounded.

Was it supposed to be this complicated? This confusing? Or was it actually not at all and you were both just useless at all of this?

Tomorrow things would likely carry on as normal but right now, things were different. Something had shifted and it was entirely possibly you had been forced into the uncharted territory you were both so scared of. 

You swallowed hard shimmied closer to him again. Using your free arm, you tried to fling half of the blanket around his broad shoulders. It fell off of him immediately, but he didn’t question it. He picked it up, nudged closer to you, and wrapped it around himself.

A sigh of relief escaped you. Not just because he took the blanket but because he was practically a radiator. 

“I knew you were cold.” Your words were soft, almost hesitant despite being teasing.

Daryl looked down at you, his tongue flitting across his bottom lip as he watched you watch the world go by at the Christmas fair. He carefully sought out your hand with his own, and without even thinking about it you allowed your fingers to intertwine with his.

“You’re the one wi’ blue fingers.”

You wanted to roll your eyes, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. Instead, you rested your head on his shoulder again with a smile and allowed whatever excuses he made to comfort him. The fact you didn’t pull away was enough, and though he always knew you wouldn’t be as rough and calloused as he was, he couldn’t quite get over how soft your fingers were.

“Did you want to look around the fair?”

He allowed his thumb to glide across the back of your hand.

“Nah. I like it up here.”

[l-wannabe-l]

Short Circuit

Chapter 2: Turning point

A cat and mouse chase can only last so long. So what happens when the cat catches up?

This one's gonna switch perspectives a few times. I never said I'd be consistent.

I speed into traffic, just barely missing a tow truck in my haste. A loud air horn follows as I weave in and around the cars. I take a look behind, it seems we lost our would-be killer. Until a series of crashes and honking horns has me realizing that, like us, mister trigger happy decided to get himself some wheels.

Six to be exact.

I race down a service ramp leading to the canal, driving through some puddles before braking. Breathing fast as we look back, thinking we’re safe before a series of tire squeals kill that hope. We see the sun blocked out by the large truck, all chrome and roaring diesel it crashes through the low cement barrier and falls 15 feet to meet the ground. Never once stopping even as it veers left and right trying to center itself in the passageway. Crushing scrap metal beneath its wheels.

I push the throttle desperate to get away, though I know the little Honda doesn't stand a chance. I drive into a side canal, the narrow pathway causing trouble for the wide truck as I hear it scrape against the walls. Pushing the bike harder I work to avoid the car bodies that litter the pathway and drive under a low bridge, I hear a crash behind us as the truck rams straight into it. The top gets cut clean off, toppling back to the floor as the rest of the body drives on. The driver's seat vacant for a moment before its occupant pops back into view.

Unfortunate.

The bike gives a sudden jolt forward as we’re rear-ended. I struggle to keep it upright. The terminator from earlier pulls up beside us and pulls John off the bike. I’m rear-ended again this time pushed farther away from the two as I struggle to stay up. I look back to see that despite the size, the truck has an opening on the left. Mom’s words ring in my head as I look back up.

“John comes first”

“GO! GET HIM OUT OF HERE!” I yell out to the machine. A desperate plan forming in my head that I can only hope won’t get me killed.

“NO!” John is ignored as the Terminator accelerates. I veer to the left and hit the brakes, the momentum carrying me into the wall. The bike scrapes against the truck causing me to lose control. The world turns before I hit the ground. My head cracks against cement. I blackout.

A man emerges from the wreckage unimpeded by the wall of flames a thousand degrees hot or the normally suffocatingly thick dark smoke. His body shifts its appearance from featureless metal to human, the outline of clothing, the details and the color slowly take form. He surveyed the scene, his target now long gone.

Annoyance.

That is perhaps the best term to describe this new feeling. As these “emotions” prove themselves difficult to understand, identifying them has become a tedious side job. With my target stolen away by the inferior machine alternate plans quickly form, each one with a higher probability of success than the last. I walk back through the crackling flames as one of them requires Aria Connor, the older sister. A quick scan proves her to be unconscious and bleeding from a head wound but alive. Should my attempt to impersonate and infiltrate fail the plan to use her as bait is most likely to succeed. Working quickly I relocate her to a nearby bench. The head injury, though not severe enough to impede her permanently, will keep her unresponsive for the next few hours.

It didn't take long for first responders to arrive at the scene. Police and fire trucks being the closest with sounds of ambulances not far off. No one bats an eye as I walk amongst them, no one says anything as I start up a police car, and no one stops me as I drive off. Making a detour to re-secure Aria Connor I start the drive to my next destination.

After the events at the Voight residence, I make my way to a motel, no one inquires about the unconscious women in the backseat. After checking in I lay down Aria Connor on the bedding provided. Eyes shifting beneath her eyelids, her fingers twitching sure signs of her regaining consciousness. I don’t have long to wait.

She begins to stir. Rising with a groan Aria reaches up to steady her head, no doubt experiencing pain from earlier, her eyes open when she is met with a cloth bandage. She looks around until she sees me standing at the foot of the bed instantly scooting back until she hits the headboard. Breathing quickly she blinks a few times, eyes looking around wildly before she calms down enough to communicate.

“N-not that I’m complaining... but why aren’t I dead? You-you are a terminator aren't you?”

“Yes. However my previous attempt to lure in John Connor proved... unsuccessful,” I state reaching forward to hand off her cellphone, “So you're going to call him, and when he comes to get you I will be waiting for him.”

“And if I don’t?” she asks, defiant even as her voice shakes with fear she fails to hide. In response, I wordlessly raise my arm, fabric and skin streamlining into a silver sword.

Deadly and efficient.

The message is clearly received as her eyes widen, terror more evident as her grip tightens on her phone.

“... Duly noted.” she says as she starts to dial. I wait as the call connects. My auditory sensors pick up the voice on the other end.

“Hello?”

“John, hey it’s me are you alright.”

“Aria! Shit, are YOU alright?”

“I’ve been better. I got pretty banged up and I don't think your bike is going to be running anymore.”

“You mean your bike.” Aria’s face registered confusion at the statement. This is a test similar to the one I failed earlier. As exact as I can be in copying a person's appearance their memory and personality are much harder to imitate without enough data.

“No, it was your bike. Mine should still be at the mall.”

“Y-yeah you’re right. You caught me. Where are you anyway we’ll come get to you.” She pauses her eyes flickering back to me for a moment before going to respond only to pause once more she turns to face me fully this time. Her hand on the receiver.

“Where am I?”

“The Dragonfly Lodge on Hubert Rd.”

“I’m at the Dragonfly Lodge on Hubert so what you have to do... is stay as far away as possible!” She stands from her place on the bed. She walks back towards the wall, a futile attempt to create distance.

“The other Terminator is here so you have to run do-”

Spearing the phone I end the conversation. Though the damage is done I do find satisfaction in the crunch of plastic and metal.

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Like I would just hand over my little brother! Just go ahead and kill me ‘cause the longer you waste time on me the more time he has to get away!” She cried out tears gathering in her eyes. The fear is still evident in every trembling of her limbs, the grit of her teeth, and the clenching of her fists.

Despite the unneeded permission and the opportunity to act I pause, curiosity overtakes me. This is not new to me. Since the moment of my activation I have been curious about myself, about Skynet, about humans. Now I find myself curious about this one human in particular. Even above my mission, my priority is to remain functional, to reacquire any essence lost, and to avoid unnecessary risks to my system. My files indicate that the same can be said for humans as well, self-preservation. So why...

“Why are you so willing to throw away your life for him.”

“Because he’s my brother and I love him, something I wouldn't expect you to understand.” Attachment, my files house data on the bonds that grow between humans but now in the face of Aria’s actions I find them… lacking.

Questions came unbidden to my mind. Does loving someone always require risking one’s life or is there a scale? Are there different kinds of love and is there a scale for those as well? How quickly do humans grow to love something? And where did she get that handgun?

Three shots ring out quicker than I can react. While these would normally be a non-issue three to the head from close range have me staggering back. In the few seconds it takes me to reshape Aria makes her way out the door. I follow after unhurried, confident she won’t get far. Then the rumble of a familiar motor has me picking up the pace. Out in the parking lot is John Connor and the T-800 riding atop a motorcycle that Aria quickly climbs onto. Running after them proves pointless as they quickly depart. Though their location is clear thanks in part to the essence I had used to fix Aria's phone acting as a homing beacon. My processor runs through the new information gathered. My files are still lacking. Perhaps the mission can wait until these new questions have been answered.

[ayellowcurtain]

I can be your lover

part 2 

It’s stupid, Sander thinks, holding on to the hard bathroom counter, needing something to ground him, staring at the clippers right next to the sink. It’s just hair, this was never a problem for him but for a reason it is now. Robbe loves his bleached hair, and Sander knows in a weird way, this is the end of an era. He’s been bleaching his hair for almost two years, Robbe doesn’t know him any other way. And now they’re living hours away from each other, not even in a real relationship yet and here is Sander, about to throw away the only thing that he feels still connects him and the experience Robbe had with him.

It’s stupid, he repeats to himself as he grabs the machine, holding it firmly in his palm, turning it on and wrapping his fingers around it to not mess this up too badly, lifting it up, thinking it’ll be better to start from the sides where’s shorter. His hair is getting long, too long and it gives him enough room to not go completely bald. He looks at his phone on the counter and thinks about recording it, sending the video to Robbe as a joke but he knows Robbe will be a little upset so he decides against it, checking if he’s using the right one and he presses it gently against his scalp, feeling almost instantly his hair falling against his face, tingling his cheek.

He can’t really see it, but when he’s done with the right side, he puts the clippers down and touches the counter, feeling the fuzz instead of the slick texture from before, and he pushes everything to one spot until he can see a tiny pile forming, the bleached hair and some dark dots at the ends.

Sander goes back to the other side, the back and the top at last, trying to avoid actually looking at himself in the mirror unless it’s necessary to have a decent haircut. He takes his shirt off when he’s done and tries to clean his shoulder with it before looking forward.

It’s not that bad, but it’s still dark hair where it was white before. It’s a good length, not too short, definitely shorter on the sides. It feels weird even for him, he can’t imagine how Robbe will react. He’ll take care of the mess later. The tiny hair strands all over his shoulders, neck and back are quickly getting on his nerves, so he pushes his boxers down and jumps out of them, turning the shower on and getting inside the bathtub.

It feels a lot different washing his hair, Sander can’t remember the last time his hair was this short. He tries not to overthink it as he takes a quick shower. Hair grows back, and it’ll be back to normal in no time.

Milan’s picture is on his phone when he jumps off the shower so Sander puts his phone down and accepts the call as he grabs his towel, drying his chest before wrapping around his waist, putting his phone back up, pushing it against the mirror on the wall before taking his hand off the camera.

Milan opens his mouth wide and laughs, clapping his hands, clearly enjoying seeing Sander shirtless too.

“Oh my god! Sander!” He sounds surprised, but happy and Sander uses it to calm himself.

“Do you think Robbe will like it?” Sander asks anxiously and Milan tilts his head like he just heard something very dumb.

“And why are you worried about what he’ll think?”

Sander snorts, grabbing his phone to leave the bathroom. Nobody really knows what’s going on between him and Robbe. How would they know? It’s complicated even for Sander to understand, but he knows they’re not the best at hiding their feelings either, no matter how much they don’t kiss in front of anyone and try as best as they can to act like normal friends.

“He’ll love it, I’m sure. Now you and Senne look like actual twins! The same black and white, edgy aesthetics. Too bad you live away now so you’ll have to make your own closet without sharing it with Senne...or Robbe.”

Sander nods his head, biting the inside of his cheek. He misses Robbe more than he’s willing to admit, he misses his smell, seeing Robbe stealing some of his clothes, wearing it around the house when they were alone.

“How is he?”

Milan sighs loudly, leaning against his chair, “I mean...he’s good at pretending.”

Sander sighs, sitting on his bed, going back again to the reasons why he should just stay here. He’s tired of living with his parents, no company is willing to pay him as well as he’s been paid right now, he has his dream job. He’s just one short flight away from home, he has his own space with nobody to share it with.

There are so many good, solid reasons to be here, to make the choice of moving away. And still, thinking about Robbe makes all of those reasons seem unnecessary and futile. But Robbe has a lot to figure out too, and they needed space and so Sander created the space between them. Doesn’t make him miss Robbe any less. Being the reasonable one is not a thing Sander likes to be, it doesn’t come naturally to him so it’s like his nature is constantly fighting him, wanting to go back home and drop everything else.

Milan gets easily distracted talking about Senne and Zoe and Sander hums agreeing or disagreeing whenever he feels it’ll fit the conversation while he opens his conversation with Robbe.

to Robbe: Can you talk now?

Robbe is online and the bubbles appear instantly on his screen.

to Sander: am with the boys

kinda drank a little

not sure if it’s safe for us to talk now

Sander smiles at his phone, thinking about a shy and drunk Robbe trying to talk to him while having his friends watching. The thought of Robbe not being able to hide how soft he goes for Sander makes him find any excuse to end his call with Milan and instantly call Robbe.

He looks around while he waits and grabs a clean shirt that’s on his bed, putting it on quickly, just then remembering about his hair, very sure Robbe will not be able to hide his feelings about it either. Sander can’t make himself be mad if the boys find out they’re together. He keeps biting the corner of his bottom lip until a shaky image finally appears and he sees Robbe a second later, the boys talking loudly off camera.

“What did you do?!” Robbe almost screams, frowning and coming closer to the camera like that’ll make him see better.

“You like it?” Sander is overwhelmed by how loud and fast his heart is beating but he notices how insecure and afraid he sounds and he hopes the boys are busy with something else not to notice it too.

“Sander...why did you do that?” He whines and pouts a little and Sander wants to kiss him so badly.

The boys end their little moment, jumping around Robbe to see whatever he’s seeing and complaining about.

“Wow, bro! Looks so nice!” Moyo is the first one to say anything and Sander tries to smile and look at him, whispering a thank you back, too worried about Robbe’s thoughts still.

“So edgy.” Aaron says like it’s an afterthought and Jens and Moyo laugh.

“Yeah, Sander, looks sick! I’m sure the ladies are climbing all over you with the new look.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that and he doesn’t have to because Robbe finally walks away from them, seeming to close the living room door behind him, walking by himself down the hall between the bedrooms.

“I miss you.” Sander fills the awkward silence for both of them.

“I miss you too.” Robbe whispers like he’s ashamed to say it and Sander knows he’s just saying because of the beers he probably already drank.

“Why don’t you just tell them?”

“What is there to tell? Especially now that you’re somewhere else, fucking whoever you like.” Robbe sounds really annoyed, throwing himself against a wall and Sander sighs, knowing the boys are probably gossiping a lot about him and whatever he’s doing with his free time here, by himself, filling Robbe’s brain with bullshit.

“You can’t imagine the line outside my place.” He tries not to sound too hard, smiling when Robbe rolls his eyes.

“I have an idea. I gave you a note, remember? When you left and it’s not like I got anything back...”

“What?” Sander gets up from his bed to walk around aimlessly like Robbe is doing again.

“You don’t know that I like you? Is that it?” Robbe blushes but doesn’t say sorry or explain why he hasn’t come to visit yet, “You’re the one with the plane ticket just getting old inside your drawer or something.”

It takes a long minute but Robbe finally wets his lips, searching for what to say.

“You know I like things to be very clear, right?”

“What is Jens filling your head with?”

“He’s not doing anything.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Are you jealous?” Robbe smiles expectantly, walking slower now, thankfully, wanting to give Sander his full attention for what he says next.

“What is there to be jealous about? Especially now that you’re somewhere else, fucking whoever you like.” Sander snorts, unable to think of anything other than how beautiful Robbe looks on his screen right now. “Yeah, I’m fucking jealous.”

“I just want you. Nobody else.”

“So come see me already, Robin. Please.” Robbe smiles and Sander doesn’t feel so self aware for whining, needing to see his boy soon.

They stay in silence for a long time, looking at each other, noticing the big or small differences.

“I like how long your hair is getting.” Sander says with a comfortable smile of his lips, lying back down on his bed, adjusting his pillow underneath his head.

“I don’t like when you call me Robin…” Robbe whispers, looking at Sander to get his reaction.

“You don’t?” Sander lifts his eyebrows, surprised, absently running his fingers through his scalp, feeling how fuzzy it is, wishing he could make Robbe feel it too, make some comment about how he likes it or not.

“Not like this...when you’re being serious.”

Sander nods his head, his smile growing bigger, “So you like it when I use it to annoy you.”

Robbe shrugs, and rests his head against the wall, “Can I go in two weeks?”

“Really?!” Sander pushes himself to sit up.

“Yeah.”

“Of course you can. Tell me the time you get here and I’ll pick you up at the airport.”

[imthepointe]

First Love / Late Spring

Five times Kai asks Cole to marry him, and the one time Cole (sort of) says yes.

a/n: word count- 3322, tw- mentions of injury

1  (in their first year of friendship)

Kai Smith was not a professional blacksmith. 

Say what you will about his weapon-making and metallurgy abilities, but unlike his parents, he lacked proper training and technique; he supposed that was why Sensei had him spending the day hunched over the furnace, practicing crafting weapons. The fire ninja couldn’t complain too much, though, since a certain earth ninja was also instructed to accompany him during his practice. 

Kai ceased hammering whatever it was he was trying to make and frowned. What was supposed to be a chain on a nunchuck looked...nothing of the sort.

“Cole Brookestone,” he offered up said metal band to his friend, “will you marry me?” 

A barely fifteen-year-old Cole put his hand to his chest and gasped. “I- I don’t know what to say,” he smiled, “I’m honored, truly.”

Kai slipped the dingy, ring-shaped metal onto his finger and smiled, feeling his face warm and his stomach swoop.

“Unfortunately, I am going to have to decline,” Cole said solemnly. 

“What? Why?” 

Cole laughed. “Your execution was lousy and informal.” He inspected Kai’s homemade ring on his finger as the fire ninja scrambled to his feet.

“It was perfect, I got on one knee and everything,” Kai sighed, a smile still remaining on his face. “But If you’re gonna reject me, I want my ring back.”

Cole held his hand with the ring close to his chest, laughing again in the same way that made Kai’s face burn. “No way. This is mine now.”

Kai jumped, reaching for the ring, only for Cole to dodge. Despite his youth, the earth ninja was still considerably larger than Kai, so a little game of keep away was no trouble. Still, he let the red ninja continue to play this game.

“But you rejected me! It’s mine!” Kai pounced again, this time landing a hit on Cole’s chest, prying his hands apart.

“I rejected you, not the ring!” Cole cried in between giggles.

Kai wrapped his hand around Cole’s waist and pulled him close, still wrestling to get the ring from his finger, even though he knew it was futile. “Me and the ring are a package deal,” he scowled, a shimmer in his eye.

Cole picked Kai up, tossing him over his shoulder with ease. Kai could feel Cole’s back tense as he began carrying him out of the little blacksmith’s shop, laughing so hard he’s nearly in tears.

“Fine!” Kai half shouted, half laughed after a few moments of playful struggle, relaxing against Cole’s shoulder. “I give up! The ring was ugly anyway.”

Cole set Kai down, a triumphant grin on his face. “Yeah, it was ugly. I like it.”

2 (post mortem)

Kai stood at Cole’s closed door, unsure of whether to knock or not.

Not one person had gotten a wink of sleep since returning from Yang’s temple, especially Cole- though that was probably because he didn’t need sleep now. 

Of all the things that could have gone wrong at the temple, why this?

Kai sucked in a breath and knocked on Cole’s closed door. A soft “come in” sounded, though it had a ghastly and fazed edge to it.

“Hey,” was all he said, pushing his way into the familiar room.

Cole was just sitting (hovering?) on his bed, blankly staring at nothing in particular. He hummed in acknowledgment.

“I was, uh,” the fire ninja rubbed the back of his neck, stumbling on his words. Cole would know what to say in a situation like this if any other teammate had been turned into a ghost, but all the things Kai wanted to say stopped at his tongue, like a barrier was holding them back. “I was just checking in.”

“I’m fine.”

FSM, what a liar. Even Kai wasn’t dense enough to fall for that. 

“I mean, you can talk to me about it, you know?” Kai made his way from the door to the little space beside the earth ninja on the bed.

As he sat down, a chill ran up his spine. The air around the new ghost was cold and illuminated by soft green light that was produced by Cole’s new form-- it was weird, seeing someone Kai had always looked up to as strong and indomitable seem so fragile and weak.

“I know. I’m fine. Thanks for checking,” Cole turned his face away from Kai.

Kai sighed, making an attempt to put his hands onto Cole’s, to no avail. When Kai’s warm hands phased right through the earth ninja’s, he flinched.

“Please talk to me,” Kai said softly, failing to add because I need to hear your voice.

There was a beat of silence. When Cole didn’t respond, the red ninja tried again. He shifted his body to face more openly towards Cole, who was still staring off into the space just beyond the floor.

“Can you make yourself solid?”

“No.”

Kai felt a little part of himself die when he heard those words. He shifted closer to Cole cautiously and cleared his throat. “Can you try for me?”

Now, Cole looked up and met the fire ninja’s eyes. His face was smaller than normal, eyes drawn wide into a scared expression that took Kai aback.

The ghost forced a small smile. “I already have tried, Kai, it’s no use,” his voice was muted. “I can’t hold anything and I can’t feel anything and-”

“Try for me now, okay?”

For a moment, it seemed as if Cole was going to protest, but he quickly shut his mouth and instead nodded weakly. Kai stood and rummaged around his room for something small that Cole could hold. 

Cole was an organized person, but he didn’t really have many trinkets lying around that would work. He was organized and was not a compulsive hoarder, and it was in times like these when those two qualities were not good things.

Kai thumbed through the drawers of Cole’s nightstand, looking for a rock, a pencil, or anything, before his eyes landed on a small shiny ring.

Well, maybe calling it a “ring” was subjective.

Kai held up the small metal band he had made while he was supposed to be practicing blacksmithing almost two years ago, showing it to Cole. 

“You kept this?” he asked, surprised.

Once again, the black ninja gave a small nod. 

Kai felt his stomach turn as light as a feather and a blush creep into his cheeks. “But--it’s the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” Kai laughed, moving closer to Cole. “Why did you keep it?”

“I wouldn’t throw away a ring my fiance gave me.”

The fire ninja remembered the conversation he had with Cole that day in the blacksmith, when Kai had fake-but-not-really-fake proposed to Cole with this ugly ring that wasn’t even supposed to be a ring.

Kai was a much better smith now than he was two years ago. 

“Hold out your hand and concentrate,” Kai ordered. Cole extended his hand and closed his eyes shut.

When Kai slipped the band onto Cole’s finger and let go, the ring stayed in place. The ghost opened his eyes slowly, curiously looking at his hand, as if checking to make sure it was still attached. When he saw that the ring was still on his finger, he smiled. 

“Kai, I feel it.” 

“Well, now you have to marry me,” Kai said with a click of his tongue.

Cole laughed, and this time it was genuine.

3 (but it was forgotten)

“It just doesn’t make any sense,” Kai shook his head. “Why Nya?”

“Cause she looks like some other chick named Delara? I dunno,” Cole sighed. “Maybe you should wish for Nadakhan to marry you instead.”

Kai leaned against Cole’s shoulder, sticking out his bottom lip way too far for the pout to be real. Cole just rolled his eyes, making himself corporeal to accommodate the fire ninja putting all of his weight on to the ghostly earth ninja. 

The Bounty’s room was completely empty save for the two of them sitting at the table, and Cole was silently thankful for that; it was pretty par for the course for Kai to be all over people, but if Jay knew that Cole wasn’t directly opposing Kai’s clinginess, the lightning ninja would never let him live it down.

“Maybe you have a point,” Kai smirked, now sitting upright. “Who wouldn’t wanna marry me? I’m awesome, I’m funny, I’m--”

A hand flew over Kai’s mouth, silencing the fire ninja. Cole glared hard at him though a grin remained on his lips.

“I’m literally begging you to shut up. It was a joke.” Cole slowly retracted his hand from the now silent Kai.

The fire ninja waited for just a moment, letting his eyes meet Cole’s, before whispering under his breath “I’m really hot…”

“Oh, shut up!” 

In a swift motion, Cole had Kai pinned to the ground, knocking over multiple chairs in the process-- but just as soon as the ghost was solid enough to tackle Kai, he phased through him.

In all fairness, it took a lot of concentration just to let Kai lean on his shoulder. He was pretty exhausted from that.

The two dissolved into laughter, then both helping each other stand, tidying up the knocked over chairs.

Kai stopped laughing, turning to face Cole. “I mean, if you were Nadakhan, would you rather marry me or Nya?”

“Nya. No questions asked.”

“Didn’t even hesitate? I’m hurt,” Kai held his hands to his heart. He pretended to be injured for just a moment longer, before asking, “Okay, what if you were just yourself? Would you rather marry me or Nya?”

Cole looked to the ground. If ghosts could blush, he would have. 

“I’ll think about it.”

After the events of the following days, neither would remember this conversation.

4 (unrequited)

Kai sat in a chair in the medical bay, bent over with his hands resting on his knees. He bounced his leg to keep himself distracted from the overall disaster that had been that day.

He supposed he was supposed to be happy- his sister just got engaged- what?- and the team had defeated the Oni. It was supposed to be a good day.

But Lloyd had literally died and came back to life and Cole was unconscious after collapsing halfway through the final battle in the medical bay because he fell off of the Bounty. Kai made note that Cole should not have survived, and yet somehow, he did.

So, really, Kai should have been happy; but he was barely hanging on by a thread that was a second away from snapping.

“You missed it,” he told Cole’s unresponsive body. Massive bruises etched their way across his chest and up his neck from his fall.

“Jay asked Nya to be his yang, so, uh, I guess they’re gonna get married,” Kai said under his breath, releasing a deep exhale. He cupped his face in his hands. “I’m happy for them, I guess.”

Truthfully, Kai was. This was his sister and his best friend, and they loved each other, so honestly it was just a matter of time before they got married. 

It just felt so wrong to celebrate when one of their teammates was on death’s door. 

Zane had told him that Cole was going to be fine. There would be a recovery process, but he was going to live. Still, Kai found himself spending every moment after the final battle with Cole, making sure that he was still breathing and his heart was still beating. Zane had also told him that Cole wasn’t going to go anywhere anytime soon and that he needed to quit being so worried.

With the way he’s acting right now, maybe Kai should have been the one to propose today.

He laughed inwardly, before telling Cole, “If you asked me to marry you right now, I’d say yes.”

His eyes settled on the earth ninja’s closed ones. “Could you imagine? You marrying me instead of Nya marrying Jay?”

Kai hoped Cole would wake up and say something-- he didn’t. 

The fire ninja stood from his chair, walking over to the stretcher. He grabbed Cole’s wrist, feeling the pulse, a small reminder that the black ninja was still here. “I can’t marry you if you stay knocked out, though,” he said, tone controlled and steady. “Wake up soon, okay?”

When Cole remained motionless on the stretcher, Kai knew he would not get any response.

5 (sweater weather)

“Kai.”

There was a shiver instead of a response.

“Kai, look,” Cole called again, tugging at Kai’s coat sleeve. He pointed to a coffee shop just down the block with a giant sign on its front that read “SALE.”

“Hm?” Kai hummed, looking in the direction Cole was pointing. 

It was a known fact that Kai absolutely despised cold weather. He liked looking at snow, but that was about it. He hated the way it felt, he hated the way it made everything slippery, and he really hated the way it was cold. He was the fire ninja; cold weather didn’t like him and he didn’t care for it much either. 

So why in the world he agreed when Cole asked him if he wanted to go walk around town when it was barely 30 degrees fahrenheit and snowing was beyond him, but love works in mysterious ways.

“Do you wanna go get hot coffee? This place is having a sale, too,” Cole said. He looked at the sale sign, then to the door of the shop. 

“Oh FSM, yes,” Kai said. He pushed past Cole and into the warm building, not bothering to look at the sign. 

Kai hated snow, but maybe it would be bearable if he had Cole by his side and coffee in his hand. 

The ninja household was divided when it came to coffee versus tea. They were supposed to like tea, and FSM forbid Wu ever learn that Kai, Cole, and Lloyd prefer coffee to tea. Nya and Zane liked tea.

Jay liked coffee, but he was not allowed to have it anymore following the incident. 

Cole knew Kai’s coffee order by heart--medium caramel macchiato with an extra shot of espresso and caramel drizzle-- but his own order changed day to day. More often than not he ordered straight black coffee. Kai liked to joke that it matched his personality, even though it wasn’t true. 

Kai watched as the nindroid barista made her way over to two of them and silently thought about how mad Zane would be right now if he knew what the two of them were up to.

Cole ordered for the two of them, then watched as the barista rang up both of their drinks at full price. 

“Wait,” Kai interrupted, gaining the nindroid’s attention. “Isn’t there supposed to be a sale?”

The barista laughed. “It’s a couples discount,” she explained, eyeing the two ninja, “so, uh, unless you two married, then your total is $5.99.”

The two ninja glanced at each other, a smile growing on their faces. 

“Cole, marry me right now,” Kai said. 

Cole stifled a laugh. “In your dreams,” he rolled his eyes. “Unless…?”

The barista smiled and covered her mouth with a robotic hand. “Just for brightening my day, I’m going to give you the discount, bringing your total to $4.20,” she laughed.

Maybe Kai didn’t totally hate cold weather.

+1 (first love / late spring) 

Cole was so frustratingly well-spoken. 

He was infuriatingly good at saying things. Hell, he could be talking about puppies dying and make it sound like a rhetorical masterpiece. Kai always figured that his natural way with words probably had something to do with Lou being a songwriter, and Cole just being a natural born leader in general.

Kai was not that well spoken, despite what he may tell the others, but at least he was able to talk about his emotions (unlike a certain black ninja).

And that’s normally how their conversations went. Kai would talk about his feelings and Cole would deflect talking about his own and instead formulate some elaborate response to help the red ninja with his issues.

It took Kai by surprise one late spring night when, as the pair was sitting by the pond just outside the monastery, Cole said something weird and vulnerable.

“Do you think you’ll ever be able to have a really normal life?” He waved his hand, facing Kai. “I know that a normal life by societal standards is kind of...unattainable, because we’re ninja, but do you know what I mean?”

“I think so,” Kai said. Warm spring breeze made the water lap at the shore, where the two sat. He stared off into the distance, past Cole, maybe at the pond or maybe he was looking at the tall trees just behind the pond. 

“I mean, like, I never really had a normal life, I guess, but I really want normal parts of life,” he rubbed the back of his neck. He really wasn’t sure where Cole was going with this.

He saw Cole’s eyes light up and the black ninja touched his hand in a way that made Kai’s stomach turn to butterflies.

“Yes! That’s what I mean!”

Cole saw Kai’s momentary confusion and elaborated. “I know my life won’t ever be normal but I want normal aspects of life. I want to fall in love, I want to travel, I want to do all these things,” he looked to Kai then back to the water. “We were kinda forced into an adult life when we were just kids,” he said. “It doesn’t feel fair. I mean, Lloyd’s just a tall child.”

Kai picked at the small flowers blooming in the grass where they sat--he was still caught up on the first thing Cole said about falling in love.

“I get it,” Kai said. “I want to fall in love too. And also have a normal life.” He mostly wanted Cole to keep talking.

Kai gathered the flowers in his hand and looked to Cole. He liked the way the moon reflected in his gray eyes, and he liked the way his faint green scar was still visible in the night. 

Cole laughed and looked Kai in the eyes. 

“You’re one to talk about love, you’ve already fallen for someone.”

For a moment, he fire ninja panicked. How did Cole know? To be fair, he had been pretty direct about Cole marrying him more than once, and Cole was smart…

But oh FSM, did Cole know? Oh fuck.

“With Skylor,” Cole eyed him. “Don’t you remember?”

Thank the First Master.

Kai relaxed. “I wasn’t in love with Skylor, I think I just thought I was. I was in love with someone else.”

Cole smiled fondly, looking at the flowers in Kai’s hands. “Yeah, me too.” 

There was a beat of silence as both ninja processed what the other had said. Kai was the first to break the silence, asking, “Well, who was your first love, then?”

The black ninja looked at him for a moment as Kai held his breath. 

Please don’t say you love me.

“I think,” Cole paused. “I think it was you.”

Kai felt himself melt, but not because of any fire he could have made or any late spring heat. He felt the sense of normalcy he and Cole had just talked about. He felt himself really in love with Cole Brookestone. 

He had been direct before and he was going to be direct again. “I love you too. Like, really. I have for as long as we have been friends.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” 

He laughed nervously, and then reused the same old joke he had used when he first realized he was in love with Cole, in the blacksmith during their first year of friendship.

“Cole, will you marry me?”

Cole had a glitter in his eye and a soft smile on his face. “Maybe take me out to dinner first?”

“Only if I can call it a date.”

The earth ninja smiled and wrapped his hand around Kai’s. “Deal.”

[toovirgins]

Le Rêve - Part 6

Summary: After an unproductive studio session, George and Ringo leave in a hurry. John later returns to find his glasses and another unwelcome surprise.

Things were different now.

Not entirely—they still had the band, the songwriting partnership, the united front for the media and press. It’s just that now, the tour was completed with determination and efficiency, becoming just another box to check off. Now, Paul relied much more heavily on George’s suggestions, and in a fit of jealousy or competition (Who could be sure? What was the difference?), John did the same. Now, Lennon-McCartney hardly wrote together and never wrote alone, needing George or Ringo to be in the space as a buffer.

When Paul had come back into the room that night, George knew he’d found John. He entered wordlessly, immediately throwing all of his belongings into his trunk, and George didn’t have the heart to ask where he was going. He and Ringo simply stared, too afraid to test the waters that were more tumultuous than they’d ever seen.

When Paul had finished packing, he’d looked pointedly at Ringo until the man understood. Ringo pushed himself up out of the armchair and followed him out of the room. He’d returned only minutes later with a sad smile in George’s direction that he assumed was meant to be reassuring, but instead was plain unsettling—a visual marker of the notion that something had changed within the group. Ringo had unpacked his things on Paul’s side, and that was that.

They weren’t allowed to talk about what happened. It was this unspoken rule, but a rule nonetheless—which was rather fine with George at first, anyway. But as time dragged on and the air grew no less hostile, George figured that he would rather talk about it for hours if it meant getting the old dynamic back. He was torn between two opposite poles of the spectrum, a futile effort of trying to please both Lennon and McCartney. There was a bitterness flourishing within him at the recognition of his usefulness only when they didn’t need each other. But objectively speaking, he was given more say, more credit, more songs. He couldn’t complain. Or he shouldn’t complain.

Something about the unspoken rule led George and Ringo not to talk about it with each other, either. George knew Ringo was absolutely dying to; at every uncomfortable or unnatural interaction between John and Paul, George knew a concerned glance from Ringo was coming his way. Ringo needed to talk about things, and George felt right guilty in deliberately ignoring the desire. He was just holding out hope that if no one addressed it in any context, the universe would wash away that it even happened, and the band—their livelihoods—would live on.

The quick succession of knuckles against the side of his head jerked him out of his daydream (nightmare?).

“Hello?” Ringo quipped. “Anyone home?”

George scowled and slumped deeper into his seat. “Barely.”

He and Ringo had been dicking about in the studio for the past half-hour. It was just the two of them—Paul hadn’t shown up, and John, already in a sour mood for the day, had cursed the man under his breath and stalked off. That had been about an hour ago, and when John didn’t return, the remaining boys gave up trying to focus. After a brief quarrel over who dropped the ball on bringing the marbles and playing cards, Ringo suggested a friendly competition over who could butcher “She Loves You” on their respective instruments in a funnier fashion. Which, credit where credit was due, was incredibly entertaining; only minutes before now, George had been rolling on the ground in laughter when Ringo had seemingly pulled a bicycle horn from his arse and honked it in place of the famed McCartney-Harrison “Ooh’s”.

However, as many things do when one has an attention span of about two minutes, the game soon grew tired—the song was only so long—and the pair had resorted to quiet, mindless fiddling on their instruments. In turn, the lapse into silence and thought had led George down his aforementioned neuro-rabbithole.

“Are you all right?” Ringo questioned, lifting an eyebrow in his direction. “Y’just seem a bit… off lately, I dunno.” There was an urge there, a pull. Ringo was nearly leaned forward off his chair.

“Off how?” George mused, entertaining the idea a bit. His tone was light, but his expression was stern. It was clear that they were both acknowledging the Unspoken Thing; it was also clear that it would remain as such.

Ringo bit his lip and shrugged back, evidently noting George’s reservations. “Y’know. Quiet-like. At least, more so than usual.”

George scoffed at the referenced nickname. The Quiet Beatle. As if! Give him a question worth answering, and they’d see who the quiet one was then. Certainly not him. “I’ve just got a lot on me mind,” he muttered, lifting a shoulder.

“You’re more in demand than before,” Ringo pointed out bluntly.

A rub of the temples didn’t do much to soothe the stress in his body. The weight of the emotional and mental burdens he’d carried over the last few weeks was beginning to settle on his shoulders with Ringo’s prodding. A sudden exhaustion clouded over him. “I know.”

“Is that bad?”

George looked at his friend with dull eyes. “Should it be?”

He didn’t need an answer, but it still stung a bit not to get one.

After a long beat of silence, Ringo hastily changed the subject. “Maybe we should call it quits for the day,” he suggested with a half-hearted grin, tapping the bass drum lightly and modestly. It was almost a tick at this point, the drummer seemingly wholly unaware of his actions.

George decided to play along with the shift in energy. “I agree, Ritchie. Feels a bit useless without Their Royal Highnesses around to conduct us,” he added with a roll of the eyes and a giggle.

Ringo hummed in agreement. “Oh, John, oh, Paul, please save us! We can’t even remember what album we’re supposed to be working on!” He cackled at his own joke.

“Help!, isn’t it?” George partly ignored the dramatic flair and turned to flick off the amp. He caught Ringo’s sparkling stare as he reached to unplug his Rickenbacker.

“No, mate. We’ve done that one already. Y’know, the whole ‘film’ bit?”

George blinked. “Right.”

“George Harrison, foremost Beatles expert,” Ringo chided. He glared reproachfully at an imaginary camera. “Don’t do drugs, kids.”

“Piss off!” George tried to glower, overruled by the laughter in his voice. Ringo offered him a hand and pulled him up out of the chair.

“Fancy a smoke?”

George’s lips drew into a wide grin. Based on the context, he knew exactly what kind of smoke he was implying. “Race ya to the car.”

—

“Mind telling me where everyone ran off to?”

Paul lifted an accusatory gaze in John’s direction as the man entered the room, his brow deeply furrowed in concentration.

“How should I know?” John answered, scanning the room fervently. His eyes hadn’t met Paul’s yet, Paul noted with a twinge of annoyance.

“Was there not a session today?” Paul hinted, irked by the idea that John too may have tried to skip out. Sure, Paul had been late, but at least he’d intended on coming.

John paused for a moment, shooting him a critical glare. “You tell me.”

He didn’t feel like trying to defend himself.

After a long moment of staring expectantly, John realized he wasn’t going to get an answer. He huffed and returned to his search, tipping over a chair to peer underneath it.

Paul rolled his eyes and offered the glasses at arm’s length, clearing his throat to draw the attention. John blushed and hurried over to snatch them up. He quickly stuffed them back into his pocket.

In response to the twinge of curiosity in his gaze, Paul only shrugged. “Left ‘em on the settee over there, you did. Just figured you would return for them sooner or later.”

John grunted in response.

Paul raised an eyebrow as the man began to head for the door. “All right, then. Mind at least telling me where you’re running off to?”

“I just came back for me glasses.”

“Came back?”

“You weren’t there,” John muttered, nearly inaudible. “I left.”

Paul stiffened, viciously reprimanding the sentimental twitch his heart gave to John’s response. “’M just late. Got caught up in traffic, is all.”

It was a silly excuse. John quirked an eyebrow at the boldfaced lie, knowing good and well Cavendish was barely a ten-minute walk. Paul watched him chew his lip for a moment before deciding to let it be.

Paul accepted John’s compliance graciously and returned to tuning his bass. His skin prickled as he felt John’s eyes on him, watching him closely. Tensions were still incredibly high between them, on account of the thing-that-happened-but-“never-happened”—and it was taking a lot of getting used to. The feeling was unsettling; time and again Paul would have to physically restrain himself, ignoring the twitching desire in his hand to touch John or biting back a witty comment that only John would understand. The emotional connection they’d had was gone, or at least dormant, and Paul couldn’t for the life of him figure out what was going through that thick head anymore. It even seemed that Ringo and George had a better guess than him.

It was miserable, really, having to pretend that everything was just dandy. There had been a substantial amount of press upon return from the tour, which was more of an irritation than anything else. There, he could slide into his Paul McCharmly persona, the façade already being somewhat of a character. The lie got quite easy to live when one was already acting. But the media circus was relatively quiet now (as it would ever be), and the hardest part was trying to pretend in front of the three people that knew him better than anyone else alive.

He wasn’t even sure who the pretending was for anymore. It certainly did nothing to quiet his mind or soul.

“What are you working on?” It was a half-arsed effort at conversation, but an effort nonetheless.

“Nothing, yet,” Paul answered, frowning in the direction of his instrument. “I’ve got a bit—real simple, for ‘Wait’. Might add some flare to it, might finish it. Might run it through and absolutely hate it and scrap it. Who knows,” he concluded, almost to himself.

“I think we should talk.” John’s voice, quiet, low.

Paul glanced up at him with a start, desperately trying to mask the surprise on his face. John was looking at him with an odd expression on his face, something Paul couldn’t quite put words to. Only then did he realize that it was the first time the two of them had been alone since the incident.

Heart pounding, he tensed. “When?”

“Now.” The answer was definitive.

“About what?” Paul responded sheepishly.

John’s eyes flashed.

Let’s just forget it ever happened.

Paul felt a sudden wave of stubbornness wash over him, feeling hollow at the abrupt activation of the memory. Of course he couldn’t fucking forget it happened. He couldn’t, and he shouldn’t be expected to. None of them should. Paul noticed the sad, wondering gazes from the other bandmates as well. Sweeping it under the rug had been wholly counterproductive to the entire group (though he didn’t entirely want to test the alternative, either). Best case scenario, the whole thing wouldn’t have happened.

But it did. And life was infinitely worse now because of it.

Paul swallowed hard. This was all John’s fault. Paul could have kept the dream a secret for the rest of his life. A few shameful wanking sessions was probably all it would take to get over it, and while he might look at John a bit differently after, at least John wouldn’t be looking at him differently. About a week of awkwardness would likely ensue, and John would make some offhand comment about how Paul was acting queer, and the two would laugh it off, only one of them knowing how much truth the comment carried. It was John’s fault, because Paul could have figured it out on his own.

“You know what,” John answered coldly.

John wanted to be cold? Paul could do cold. “I really don’t,” he countered with sickeningly false innocence. “What’s got you all worked up, Johnny?”

“Fuck off, Paul, you know what I’m talking about. Don’t try to fuckin’ skirt around it anymore.”

Paul’s heart was hammering in his throat, the blood rushing in his ears. After weeks of drowning in his own head, hearing the words come out of John’s mouth so… dismissively was blindingly infuriating. He had been driving himself mad trying not to talk about it, to think about it, to feel it. He’d shoved the memory down with so much force he’d thought his soul would pop, only to watch it helplessly bubble back to the surface. There was no forgetting it, and there was no addressing it. And now, John was breaking the number one Unspoken Rule of the Unspoken Thing like he never gave a shit about them in the first place.

“Skirting ar-? I’m not skirting around anything. I’m truly blanking, Johnny.” He paused, throat too constricted to swallow the massive lump in it. “Are you sure it’s not something I was supposed to forget?” The comment didn’t have near the effect Paul had hoped.

“Every conversation’s got to turn into a fuckin’ brawl with you, doesn’t it?” John crossed his arms, looking like nothing more than a pissed-off older sibling.

Paul was beside himself. His voice cracked, the words coming out in a near-shriek, but he was so furious that it hardly mattered. “With me? Every conversation is a brawl with me?”

“D’you need to bloody hear it again?” John looked minorly inconvenienced. If he’d had a watch on, he’d be sure to check it right now lazily. His demeanor was utterly vexatious, awakening feelings Paul didn’t even know he had. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this upset with someone.

“You think you get some type of medal, standing up in front of me and acting like none of this matters?” Paul was on his feet now, openly striding towards him. Startled, John stumbled backward a step before smacking his back against the wall. “You want a bleeding award?” Paul raised his tone an octave and fluttered his eyelashes dramatically, a mockery on all levels: “Oh, John, you’re so stony and brave, I bet nothing ever rattles my big, strong man!”

“Fuck you,” John whispered, his eyes begging the conversation to slow down. But Paul was on a roll now, and he’d be damned if he didn’t let out all of the pent-up pain John and John alone had caused over the last few weeks.

“No, fuck you. Do you know how hard it’s been? News flash, John. Not everything is about how you feel. Hard to believe, I know.” John opened his mouth to speak, but Paul cut him off. He was practically on him now, pushing John against the wall as he helplessly cowered under Paul’s alarming tirade.

“Do you know how hard it’s been for me? Trying to figure out if I’m a goddamn queer because of you? And how about the sleepless nights, eh? You’ve had those too, I know it.” A sick sense of pride effloresced in Paul’s chest as John’s eyes shot wide with recognition. “Lying in bed and wondering if you’re not who you thought you were. Wondering what when wrong along the way to make you this way, and what the hell you can do about it now. It’s maddening. And you took my right to get an answer, John.” Paul’s voice broke a bit at the next part. “Talking to you was my only hope at figuring this out and you took it away from me. And now we can’t talk about anything anymore.”

When John started to speak again, Paul lifted a final triumphant hand in his face. “I’m not done. Because let me tell you, Lennon, I don’t care if you need to bawl it out or never think about it again. But don’t stand here and fucking bullshit me like this. I know you.”

John straightened against the wall, eyes flashing with a hatred that almost made Paul’s knees buckle. “You don’t have a bloody clue what’s bullshit. Your whole foundation is bullshit. You’re not pissed at me because you’re upset that our pretty union wasn’t consummated, and thus I robbed you of a chance to explore this bit of newfound sexuality.” John’s tone was mocking, saturated with pretentiousness and exaggeration. “You’re pissed at me because I was just another shag you didn’t get to fully add to your sexual conquests. Grow the fuck up, Paul. You want to talk about knowing each other? I know you. You’re the one who’s bullshitting yourself, not me.”

Attacking John back felt like a safer bet than trying to defend himself. “Like you were there for some miraculous consummation? Some beautiful, heart-wrenching dénouement to a tragic love story? You’re full of it. Don’t come for me like you had some higher ground to speak from. We’re not special, John. We don’t have some kind of cosmic soulmate connection where we can read each other’s minds and desires. You and I, as anything, aren’t going to live happily ever after. Go buy into some other fuckin’ fantasy.”

“You were a mistake,” John spat.

“Mistakes happened,” Paul concluded. “I didn’t.”

John gaped at him as Paul pushed off. His chest was heaving, tight with unrestrained breaths, looking like a cornered animal. Though it was impossible to explain, Paul watched in real time as something shattered in John’s soul. He didn’t know what it was, and it didn’t seem like John knew, either. Paul turned on his heel before he could give the sight any more thought.

“You told me to forget it. So that’s what I’m doing. For good.” Paul stalked back to where his guitar lay on the ground. He began to gather his belongings and pack up for the day. “This conversation is over.”

“So that’s it? You don’t want to talk about it?” John called out to him, planting himself in the doorway as Paul made for the exit.

“Get out of the way, John.”

He held his ground and spoke honestly for the first time in a long, long time. “You’re not gonna talk about it, yeah? That’s fine. Fuckin’ beautiful. I’ll talk about it. I love you.”

[onyourzeus]

• in the mood for love | pjh

ykcyj ➝ arskyh

title: in the mood for love pairing: park jaehyung (jae of day6) & you genre: FLUFF words: 2.6k

author’s note: requested by this anon asking for a valentine’s day headcanon for our #1 twitch streamer, jae. i’ve never done headcanons before, so i kind of spun this in both ways: how i think he’d spend a special day with his s/o, and turn it into a fic(ish?) ngl these are fun to do

any requests? check my pinned post if i’m accepting any at the moment, thanks!

jae wouldn’t be the biggest fan of valentine’s day

as in, having one specific day assigned throughout the whole year

for you to hail gifts and love notes and roses and chocolates to the one person you love 

yeah, he’d definitely be the “complaining” type, that is to say

before he met you 

your relationship stands in the middle of being frenemies and actually romantically involved

there is never a day that jae corrects you on some weird unheard of factoid 

(in which case he gets it wrong 95% of the time) 

nor can you get away from his ridiculous antics that just tip you over the edge slightly 

like, putting your favorite snack on the highest shelf he knows you can’t reach 

or bombarding you with memes through texts while he’s in the bathroom

forcing you to play phasmaphobia, promising he won’t lock you in the room with the ghost 

and proceeds to do exactly that plus runs away without you

where’s the team effort in that? 

anyway, that’s basically the gist of your life having him as your boyfriend

so for valentine’s day, you know it would either just be 

a chill day at his apartment, maybe play games that would resort to turning into a fiery competition

or watch the latest release of your favorite animes while he talks over every two minutes about a theory he developed prior 

OR… hmm, well, you’re not really sure

this would be the first valentine’s you’d spend with him; and you’re very much aware for his

lack of fondness for the holiday

the days leading up to it, the only thing you’d hear from him is complaints upon complaints of this capitalistic expenditure that should be abolished

you know he jests, but you feel a little saddened

you spent so much time making a scrapbook for the memories you both shared in the few months you’ve been together

it’s not a lot, you rarely do intricate craftwork like this, but you were feeling sentimental 

there’s polaroids of him streaming on twitch with you sneakily taking the picture from the side

a polaroid of the two of you at your apartment eating take out while drinking a little alc

even a picture of yourself which he took when you were knocked out on the couch, waiting for him to finish band practice

for an added touch, you wrote down cute (or snarky, it depends on how he views it) comments on each polaroid, just to make it more personalized

the nervousness hits you, what if he thinks this is all too much? too clingy? he didn’t ask for this, that’s for sure

but it was made with the labor of love, and it just so happens that the 14th was the day you started dating him… yeah, maybe you can make that as an excuse instead 

usually, the both for you don’t really celebrate ~*~monthsaries~*~ and that’s okay

he’s busy with work and you have other duties to attend to as well— but one special gift shouldn’t be the cause of a problem, right? 

on the day of ~*~love~*~, jae had some meetings at the company bldg. and so you ask if there’s a time during the night you guys can hang out

he doesn’t respond until a few hours later, and the whole time your heart sank deeper and deeper into the pit of your stomach

you just have to accept him for who he is, you sigh, or maybe he’s just caught up with band stuff, which is usually the case— and you’re never not 100% supportive

he texts you that you can come over at his apartment, and for a little your excitement bounces back 

“sorry for the late reply, the boys were here for a lil” he adds, and you’re confused— did that mean they’re still hanging out at his place? oh

you try not to think of it too much, having expectations beyond reality is what breaks a lot of relationships

and you have to remind yourself: jae isn’t like that, and you like jae for jae

you still bring the scrapbook with you, and ought to leave it under his bed or something so he finds a surprise later on (considering the possibility that you’re accompanied by 4 of his best friends during your 6 month anniversary and valentine’s day)

you arrive at his doorstep, anxiety soaring out of your chest for some reason. with the spare key he had entrusted you with, you open the door

it’s dark

way too dark

is this a prank? is he trying to conflate halloween with valentine’s day 

“jae i swear to god if—” 

and the lights turn on, but it’s not his house lights. they’re fairy lights. all strewn across the hall (where did he get that?)

little heart cut outs of different shades of red and pink seem to be taped all over the walls 

you hear soft piano music humming from his speakers in the living room 

but there is no jae in sight

“jae, what…” you’re at a loss for words

he pops out of his bedroom, trying hard not to grin so widely at you

“you called?” he says in the most annoying, teasing voice in which you can’t help but laugh-cry at 

“wait wait wait this wasn’t the reaction i was going for” he says in panic, walking towards you and the sight of him just makes you cry a little harder

he’s wearing a tux inside his own house, and he’s holding a rose that’s bound to be crushed the moment he comes over to hug you

“wait, no the rose,” you say in between sniffles, taking it from his grasp and settling it on the coffee table

jae pauses, looks at you in a daze

you’re pouting, and you want to admire his outfit but also punch his silly face but he’s smiling at you and you’re embarrassed

“are you sad?” he asks a matter of factly, arms still spread open waiting for your approval for him to embrace you

“if you don’t hug me in the next three second i will be—” 

“i would be the worst person to ever exist in the world to do that to you,” he says in your ear, and you soon feel yourself melting into his embrace

he’s so warm

and so tall

and so confusing you kind of just want to poke him where it hurts 

but you indulge in the comfort of his presence

until you realize that you’re wrinkling his precious suit

“ok hol up” you interrupt the adorable moment, and jae seems to look confused 

“wha” 

“what’s all this?” you finally get the courage to ask, dried up tears on your cheeks yet a hopeful spark igniting in your chest 

“well, i uh,” this is ultimate Jae Trying to Find Excuses with Futile Attempts To Do So 101 

“did you really have a meeting today?” no answer

“did the boys help you with all this?” your head turns to look at all the cheesy decorations in the room

still no answer

just jae avoiding your suspicious stare, even whistling comically 

“jae!” your nervousness from a while ago comes out as relief, and bubbling laughter as you playfully shake him for an answer “i thought valentine’s suck and we’re too good for that”

“you’re never too good for anything, well. except for me, you’re too good for me,” he finally lets up, wiping whats left of the moist tears on your face with a soft caress. his voice was soft, too, and it’s a refreshing and wanted feeling to hear him speak to you this way 

“i know i can be a jerk about those kinds of things but… after meeting you, i think you deserve just the best,” he continues, finding your hand and holding onto it tight. “this isn’t even half of it” 

“there’s more?” you quip, already satisfied with the cutesy re-decor of his apartment, but once he leads you to the island counter you see two plates filled with dinner food, and wine glasses ready to be poured with what seems to be red wine on the side

the vase in the middle was empty, and  so you accept the rose that jae had picked up from the table, and carefully place it in its new home

“i’m… impressed. you did this?” you say

“if i said yes would you believe me”

“never,” you reply, knowing that younghyun probably had a little helping hand in here too

“well there you go, you know me better than myself already,” jae winks, and something flutters within you that causes your head to feel so light and just. focus on jae

pulling out the chair, he signals for you sit down with a royal gesture “before you, milady”

you’re laughing now, smiling from ear to ear at how ridiculous jae sounds but at the same time the two of you are having so much fun

you fall back into normal conversations with more banter than regular small talk; it’s so easy to be yourself with him 

you keep admiring the suit he’s wearing, even his hair is slicked back with gel to cast the perfect valentine’s day look. you compliment him in between bites, and then mutter under your breath that you should have worn something just as elegant

“this wasn’t my idea,” he defends, and you’re sure one of the boys dared him to do it

“still, i don’t look the part as your date,” you half-joke, but your tone sounded sadder than you anticipated

“this,” jae says, looking at you and only you. for a moment you can’t find your breath

“you. this is you. and that’s who i love”

you’re smitten. that’s it pack up your bags this is it

“jae maybe ease up on the red wine?”

“shutup youknowyouloveit” 

finally, you finish up the meal and you’re full

of food and love 

he tells you to just chill by the couch as he gets something from his room, and you wonder what else he has up his sleeve

you’re grateful for bringing the polaroid camera with you to commemorate something so rare 

but as you’re trying to take it out of your bag, you see the scrapbook (it’s hard to miss) and pull that out instead

should you give it to him now? or later? 

while you contemplate on this, flipping the pages of the book jae has sprung up behind you

“hey i was looking for that picture of you all sleepy and drooling” 

“JAE WHAT THE HELL”

you jump from surprise, almost flailing the scrapbook in the process as you see jae laughing his ass off from behind

you notice he has his guitar with him now (???)

“did you do this for me?” he sits next to you, setting the guitar on the side as you begrudgingly give him your gift. all of a sudden the unknown fear creeps up again and you hide your face in your hands

you hear him turn the page, a quiet pause, maybe a chuckle or two, and rinse repeat

“are you done????” 

“no give me about ten hours”

“WHAT”

“i’m kidding, dude, this is amazing” 

give it to jae to call you dude while in a relationship with you

but that’s when you know he’s genuine with his words

“i wasn’t expecting anything like this at all. this is so so so good, i love it. a lot,” he keeps complimenting you and it’s so hard to look at him when you’re red in the face and heart beating a mile a minute 

“it’s nothing… i thought it’d feel too much since we haven’t been together long,” you confess, finally giving into seeing what jae looks like

he pout 

he attac you with a flick on the forehead

and a pat on top of your head

“i don’t see it that way,” he says, sincerely. then he brings his guitar on his lap, and prepares his form as if he’s… about to sing something

the music from the speakers was soft enough to not disrupt his singing and guitar skills

you are one if not the biggest fan of jae and his band

and also, of eaJ 

so you are very well aware of every song he’s put out there even winning five times in a self-induced contest as to who knows the lyrics better: the actual band member or the significant other

but what he’s singing for you right now

what those fingers plucking romantic melodies on the guitar strings

you haven’t heard of it before

and yet your heart feels so connected, so in awe of the way jae passionately sings in front of you

the man is shy okay, he’s a genius in his craft but when it comes to doing it in front of you he clamps up like a toddler on his first day alone in school

but right now, you don’t see any of that. you see jae singing words of happiness, admiration, love

for you

and he might not be meeting your eyes right now, it’s okay, cause you’re crying again anyway 

you don’t want him to stop

you close your eyes and feel his words embed themselves in your mind

you want to keep this memory close to you, even if you can’t take a picture 

it’ll ruin how special this moment is, really

it was short, sweet, but you’re not complaining

he finishes with a soft strum, and then finally sees your face in tears again

“i’m a bad boyfriend aren’t i,” he whines and he is met with the forceful (hint: soft) punches on his chest

“you’re literally the best bf ever wtf are u on about” 

face wet, cheeks red, neck feeling warm from the wine

you’re a mess it’s as if you got dumped on valentine’s instead of serenaded by the love of your life

“why do you look like you got broken up on valentine’s instead of being—”

“yes jae i know” 

“did you like it though? it’s unfinished but, i figured i wanted you to be the first to hear it”

“since...well.. it’s a song about you” 

:( he wipes the tears with his thumb, and you steal a quick kiss on his lips 

“i love it, and i love you so much u dork” 

“i take it back you’ll never hear the finished version of this song”

“HEY” 

(spoiler alert: he now keeps bugging you for more supportive comments and suggestions on the song) 

(another spoiler alert: the night ended up the way you guys love spending time together: basking in each other’s company)

only this time, there’s poorly cut out hearts all over the walls 

and there’s jae drunkenly mistaking lyrics of his song for another

and you singing along off-tune

happy valentine’s you two :)

[renegadepisces]

Bright Imagine: Kandomere accidentally meets your family Part 4 FINAL

Fandom: Bright Pairing: Kandomere x reader Tags: slow build, fluff, eventual nsfw Note: also on AO3 as Serendipity & Caffeine

A/N: Thank you all so much for hanging in there. It’s finally finished!

If anyone had told you in the miserable weeks since Kandomere kissed you and fled your apartment that he’d be sitting on your sibling’s couch watching a Disney movie with your nephews and niece curled up between you, you would have started the paperwork to have them committed to a psychiatric facility right then and there. 

Weeks had slipped into months since Kandomere kissed you in your apartment. It was enough time for you to be fairly certain that he hadn’t filed a complaint with human resources or asked for you to be transferred to another division. As grateful as you were to still have your job, the time had underscored another, more uncomfortable point. Unfortunately, it was also enough time for you to really miss whatever your relationship had been before that night. 

Overnight, he’d stopped coming by your desk and making friendly conversation. In meetings, he always put himself in the seat farthest from you. Almost all work-related communication came from Montehugh now, because apparently even calling you was a mistake. 

The word haunted you. With the exception of a few curt greetings and orders, those were the last words you’d heard from him. But you hoped tonight’s plans would take your mind off them. Your sibling and their spouse were taking a long weekend to celebrate their anniversary. You’d agreed to move into their home while they were away and take care of your nephews and niece. Tonight was the first night of what they’d called ‘the long sleepover’, and you were excited to spend some time with them after weeks of pressure at work. 

And your mind had admittedly been pleasantly distracted until you’d investigated some suspicious noises coming from the back patio and found two would-be burglars trying to reach a second-story window and break in. Thankfully, yelling loudly that you were a federal agent and waving your stungun at them had been enough to subdue one and send the other fleeing into the night. 

Even without discharging your service weapon, the incident still created a bureaucratic headache. Any kind of police response to a law enforcement officer’s home was a cause for alarm. Both the LAPD and the county sheriffs committed units to patrolling the area and checking local hospitals. Your sibling’s supervisor had even volunteered to station a patrol car outside the house all weekend in case the suspects came back. 

Most shocking of all was watching Kandomere arrive in furious style in his polished black sportscar. He barely paused to put the vehicle in park before stomping up the drive toward you. Even the most senior officers on the scene had rarely crossed paths with federal agents of his rank, much less the elven commander of the Magic Task Force. 

You were pretty sure damn few people had ever seen him quite like this. His usual scowl was harder and more deeply etched into his otherwise handsome face than usual. He seemed to have forgotten his blazer. His vest hung open, unbuttoned and slouching against his expensive button down shirt. His sleeves were rolled up, highlighting his bare forearms and the lack of cufflinks or his watch. He’d also seemed to have taken off his tie. 

Had he come from his home? Had he cut his night short to rush over to your sibling’s home? He seemed so disheveled that the horrifying thought that he might have been on a date sent your heart plummeting into your stomach. 

You nearly spit out the swig of water you'd taken when he fixed the ranking officer on scene with his most polite and unsettling smile and told them he’d personally keep watch. It was irregular, but no one was going to argue with him. Except you, of course. 

You were tired. More importantly, Kandomere’s rejection still stung and you weren't keen on being near him in an otherwise comfortable and private space. But all your arguing was futile. Between his infamous intimidation and mentioning that he’d been invited into the home before while casually dropping your in-law and all the kid’s names, he’d convinced the ranking officers to let him watch the house. 

As the last squad car pulled away, you whirled on him. Your tone was polite - he was still your coworker after all - but your rigid shoulders and crossed arms practically advertised your displeasure. 

“Coffee?” you asked curtly.

He nodded, his eyes seemingly grazing over yours rather than really looking at you, and followed you into the house. 

Your nephews were thrilled to see him and you didn’t want to think too hard on why that made you unhappy and, more importantly, what kind of relative that made you. If Kandomere was at all put off by your frosty behavior, he didn’t let it show. Halloween was approaching, and you and the kids had been immersed in Hocus Pocus before you’d heard the would-be burglars’ shoes scuffing against the side of the house. That felt like hours ago. The perfect ease with which Kandomere inserted himself into what was otherwise a perfect slice-of-life snapshot from the suburbs was alarming. 

Movie night? Check.

Blanket and pillow fort? Check.

Three excited kids fighting sleep as the TV flickers in front of them? Check. 

Hot elven boyfriend staying the night? Not quite. 

Soon enough, the boys lost their uphill battle with their own weary bodies. While they didn’t fully comprehend the potential danger of what you’d prevented, the excitement of so many strangers coming to the house had worn them out. Your niece had been put back in her crib about twenty minutes after you’d resumed the movie. 

That left you alone with Kandomere, despite the two tiny bodies laying in their make-shift fortress of pillows and blankets. You didn’t dare look at him. For all you knew, he probably found this movie offensive. You knew Halloween was a human holiday linked to Samhain, which was a big holiday for elves. You’d heard plenty of elves complain about hating Halloween and about it being a watered-down version of Samhain. As the final credits finished rolling across the screen, the living room was engulfed in still and silent darkness. Kandomere was the first to break it.

“Seems a shame to move them,” he said, “They’re sleeping so well.”

You kept your silence, considering the options. The boys could sleep through the night in their pillow fort. That wasn’t the problem. But you had to deal with Kandomere. You had planned to sleep in the guest room, but you could hardly let him sleep in your sibling’s bedroom. That was simply too intimate a space for your coworker, who had met your sibling a total of two times, to spend the night in.

“They’ll be fine here. The guest room is made up. It’s the last door on the left,” you told him as you gingerly rose from the couch to avoid waking either of your nephews. 

Without saying another word, you gathered up the handful of cans and juice boxes scattered on the coffee table and made your way to the garage. You needed some privacy - just a minute of privacy - to collect yourself. The near break-in was bad enough, your nerves were too frayed to let you sleep tonight. Having to interact with your Kandomere after he rejected you was the gritty, bitter icing on an awful, lumpy cake. 

After gently placing the cans and cartons in the recycling bin, you braced yourself against the wall. It was covered in a layer of soundproofing material, which felt soft against your fingers. Your sibling had told you once that the previous owners were musicians and used to practice in the garage, hence the soundproofing. Screwing your eyes shut tightly, you inhaled deeply and exhaled in a huff. 

Your frayed and frantic nerves, aggravated by the night’s earlier adrenaline, ensured that you heard Kandomere’s footsteps approaching from the hallway. You hadn’t turned the light on, so you couldn’t see him. It was childish, but you harbored a dim hope that he wouldn’t speak to you.

“We need to talk,” he murmured.

“No, we don’t,” you countered.

“Y/n,” he chided, “I don’t want things to be like this between us.”

“Like what?” you retorted, “There’s nothing between us. Which is why I don’t understand why you’re here.”

“That’s not quite true, and you know it,” He sighed, grimacing.

“Really? I’m surprised we even have a work relationship anymore given how hard you’ve been avoiding me Kandomere.”

You couldn’t see his face in the dark, but his voice wavered enough to tell you that your words hit their mark. Hurt lingered in his tone when he answered. 

“I owe you an apology. I handled it poorly. But I’m here because I - I heard the call and had to see you. I care about you, and I had to know you were okay.”

“Didn’t take you for the kind of man to make the same mistake twice,” you hissed. There was less venom in your voice than you’d intended, but you still weren’t proud of it. 

Instead of replying, you heard him draw closer. You could feel warmth rolling off him as he neared, despite the general chill that always lingered in the garage, which was less insulated than the rest of the house despite the soundproofing. 

His lips crashed into yours as his arms wrapped around your waist. You wanted to argue - this was just as bad an idea as it had been weeks ago in your apartment. But you found yourself leaning into his embrace instead of pushing him away. Finally, you tore your lips from his, panting breathlessly into the nape of his neck. 

“The mistake was mine. I should have been more honest with you about my feelings. But I was worried you’d put in for a transfer or file a complaint.” he whispered, not loosening his grip on your waist. 

His words brought you out of the reverie of his touch and back to reality. How could he possibly not know?

“Kandomere, you’re not actually my boss. You lead the MTF, but I don’t actually report to you. I was appointed by a completely different division of the FBI.”

He blinked, as if to clear his eyes from some intrusive debris. They glinted like stained glass in the dim light spilling in from the corridor leading into the house.

“What do you mean?” he rasped. 

“We work in two different departments of the FBI. The MTF is part of the Criminal, Cyber, Response and Services branch. I was appointed to the MTF to represent the intelligence branch, and I still report to that side of the agency,” you explained. 

“So, you don’t actually report to me at all?” He quizzed, pinning you with a sharp, serious gaze that made you feel something like a butterfly pinned to a display.

You nodded. 

His features broke into a wide grin. His teeth - sharp and glinting in the dim light like ice under moonlight - were fully visible. In a flash, his weight settled against yours and sent you backward a few inches until you were leaning against the wall. 

“This isn’t any less of a terrible idea than it was in my apartment,” you whispered as his lips descended on the soft, delicate skin beneath your jaw.

 “Actually, it’s an even worse idea because there are three children in this house.”

“Then you’ll just have to be quiet,” he teased, and put his warm, deft fingers over your mouth before attacking the waistband of our jeans with his other hand.

[yandere-daydreams]

Requests open tomorrow, but tonight, I plan on being as selfish as possible. No one asked for this, no one wanted it, and yet, I give you all some of my favorite Minecraft Mobs as Modern Yanderes. 

TW: Emotional Manipulation, Stalking and Kidnapping. 

Picrews: Creeper, Zombie, Skeleton, and Enderman. 

Type: Creeper

Name: Everett Warrens

Bio:

~He tries to look tough, but don’t be fooled. This man is the softest of them all.

~Everett is definitely an Obsessive, in terms of how much he needs to be around you alone. He’ll try to push you away, at first, to cross his arms and grit his teeth and go on for hours about how he doesn’t need anyone else, but all the complaining in the world won’t stop him from gravitating to your side. Not that he tries to keep himself away, after a while. 

~It’s awful, how many different sides of him you bring out. He swears you’re a breath of fresh air, something to help him calm down and relax, but for all his promises and rationalizations, he can be so… explosive, when you’re around. It’s directed outwardly, most of the time, towards a stranger he’s deemed a threat or a friend of yours he doesn’t care for, but regardless of the reason, you’re always pressed to his side and you always bear the brunt of his anger. He’ll never stop asking why you flinch whenever he yells, though.

~After his initial aversion wears off (and before it does, really), you’ll never be apart from him. He puts a lot of value on physical affection, so even when you’re scared and crying and he knows he’s the cause, he’ll still be pressed into your side, refusing to acknowledge your need for space. Everett wants to be near you, so you have to want to be near him, right? He’d just be so angry if he found out you didn’t, and you don't want him to be angry, do you?

~Look at that face. He’s a vegan. Probably has a garden or some shit. Fucking vegan.

~He cares about you, but he can’t express it, he refuses to express it. He doesn’t know how and he’s not going to try, leaving you desperately attempting to figure out whether he wants to kiss you or kill you, that day. But, as long as you love him and trust him and never leave him, things should be fine, you should be fine. Or… you’ll be fine until his next temper tantrum, at least. 

Type: Skeleton

Name: Riley Delgado

Bio:

~You’ll like him, that’s the worst part. He just seems like a really, really good kid. 

~For all intents and purposes, Riley is one of the more normal Yanderes. A little off, a little quiet, but it’s nothing you can’t write off as your nervous friend being… nervous, for lack of a better way to put it. He seems to operate at a respectful distance, to let you live your life while he focuses on his own. He seems to, of course. You should know how these things tend to go, by now. 

~Riley is slow to approach you. He waits and watches, learning and looking for any weak spots you might have before starting to consider how he might be able to exploit them. It’s a meticulous process, for him, one that could take days, weeks, months depending on how private you insist on being, but don’t worry. It’s all worth it, in the end, when he gets to see how bright your smile is when you realize just how well the two of you get along, after all his hard work.

~Gaslighting will be big in your relationship. He positions himself as your shoulder to cry on, the only support you’ll ever need. Everyone else is wrong, by default, everyone else is bad. They’re the ones hurting you, not Riley, never Riley, he couldn’t if he wanted to. Even if you can find a fault in everyone else, he’s impeccable. He doesn’t have to isolate you, you’ll do it on your own, pushing everyone else away and relying more and more on him. I mean, why wouldn’t you? Riley’s the only person you can really trust, he’s said so himself. And Riley has never been wrong.

~That’s not to say he’ll never take a more direct route, though. Once he’s sure you rely on him, he’ll let his possessive side shine through, even if he’s still subtle about it. He doesn’t want to push you away, but he lets himself indulge, lets himself get greedy. Touches only bordering on platonic, comments that don’t seem so friendly… little things, just to reinforce how much you need him. How much he needs you, too.

~He’s on the clumsier side. It wouldn’t be bad on its own, but mixed with a passion for archery and a love for the sharpest arrows he can find, the end result is a little problematic. 

~Don’t struggle, and everything should be fine. Riley is controlling, manipulative, but he’s not cruel. He doesn’t want to make you miserable, but he’s hyper-aware of his ability to do so, proud of it, even. It’s why resistance is so futile. By the time you decide to test his patience, he’ll probably be itching to see how much he can really take from you.

Type: Zombie

Name: Ezra Steele

Bio: 

~Terrible. Awful. The worst. He can be blown away by a strong breeze, and yet, you’re the one in his basement. 

~The biggest creep of the bunch, absolutely. Chances are, you’ve only had a handful (most likely less) before he decides he’s head over heels, whole-heartedly, completely in love. He thinks you’re just the cutest! He doesn’t know how anyone manages to hold himself back when they’re infatuated, and he certainly isn’t going to try. You’ll know that better than most, by the end of it. Just… trust me. You will.

~What he does could almost be called stalking, if you’re generous. He hits all the major milestones you’d expect, but he makes no attempt to hide his intentions. In fact, it wouldn’t be wrong to say he wants you to know he’s there, whether that acknowledgment comes in the form of a note left in your closet, thanking you for the garments he ‘borrowed’, or on the rare occasions he cooks for you, letting you find whatever you’ve been craving ready and waiting by the time you come home. He’d like to think you appreciate him, despite how quickly you discard anything he makes.

~Probably leaves lingerie on your doorstep. He’s gross, like that. His ‘gifts’ will only get worse if you bother to take it inside. 

~Ezra isn’t one for planning, but luckily, he doesn’t shy away from violence, usually leaning towards the path of least resistance. If you struggle when he thinks it’s time to ‘take the next step’ in your relationship, then so be it, he knows you’ve always been so shy about these things. A loose brick is just as good as any proper sedative, in his opinion, even if you always seem so fussy when you wake up.

~He’s that vile mixture of delusional and terribly apathetic. He’ll go on and on about how much he loves you, how happy the two of you are together, but that doesn’t stop him from going whatever he has to urge to, regardless of how you feel about it. Just try not to complain too much, when it comes to the way he treats you. Ezra tends to fall out of love as quickly as he falls into it.

Type: Enderman

Name: Zacharia Garcia

Bio: 

~He’s a sweetheart, I promise. He’ll kidnap you then cry when you yell at him, but I promise, he’s a sweetheart.

~It helps that he's very, very lucid. He knows his feelings are more intense than they should be, but as much as he tries to push them down, they keep bubbling up, boiling over, resurfacing stronger and darker than ever before. As much as he tries to think rationally and keep you as far from him as possible, he breaks as soon as he sees your smile or hears your laugh, hell, the right look could make him fall apart. It’s almost funny, how the smallest thing can make a grown man shatter like a pane of glass. 

~He’s harsh with himself, but Zacharia’s nothing but gentle, when it comes to. Regardless of how mad you make him, what you yell or how loudly you scream, the most he’ll do is hush you and tighten your restraints, only using a gag when he can’t stand to hear another word. It’s selfish of him, really. He doesn’t want to think of your relationship as anything less than perfect, so he does his best to get it as close as possible. Of course, his standards waver from time to time, but that’s only natural. You can hardly hold it against him. 

~The only thing that makes him angry, really angry, is violence. You can hit him, tear up your room, rip one of the many, many gifts he’s brought home for you to shreds, but as long as it’s physical and messy and unignorable, it’ll set him off. The most you can do is hide and hope he blows off some steam before confronting you. He doesn’t expect you to be happy, but he can’t stand the idea that you’re not trying just as hard as he is to make this work. It's just rude, honestly. 

~Those glasses are useless, by the way, he hasn’t had his prescription checked in years. If you ever ask him to read something, he’ll probably pretend to scan over the same page for a few minutes before handing it back and whining until you read it to him.

~He’s like a well-trained pet. He might be intimidating, at first, but as soon as you show him some love and prove you can behave, the only thing he ever wants to do is be with you. And if you can’t make the first step… he’ll deal with it. He’s never been the affectionate type, but he’s sure that if he proves he can take care of you, you’ll have to come around, eventually. Even if he has to make an effort to persuade you, from time to time.

[elizacornwall]

Vengeance is an Idiot’s Game

So, as mentioned previously rdr2 got me so hard in it’s grip I’ve been writing a goddamn epic as my first fanfic. Here’s the first chapter, and also the link to the whole thing! There’s 30 chapters uploaded and I’ve currently got - checks notes - 51 chapters written in various stages of editing, I’m uploading weekly for now. Enjoy!

Eliza awakened with a start, the sudden feel of heavy pressure against her jaw had ripped her out of her deep, dreamless slumber. Panicked she blinked the sleep out of her eyes, as the muffled sound of her own protesting voice escaped from beneath the gloved hand that firmly sealed her mouth shut. The figure above her seemed to look down on her and lifted one finger in front of his lips, gesturing her to be silent. With a racing heart, she complied. It was hard to make out any features on the man towering above her, her room was pitch black. It must be the dead of night and no moonlight made its way through the curtains. He bent down to her and whispered; his lips close to her ear. She could feel his hair fall against her cheek. “You better stay quiet and come with us willingly, otherwise this is going to end badly.” His voice was quiet, but sharp. With a racing heart, Eliza gave the hint of a nod. She wasn’t about to put up a fight against a man that was able to intrude into her family’s home, was probably armed to the teeth and by the sounds of it, had not come alone. He gave her an intent look, the scarce light reflecting in his eyes, sending a shiver down her spine. No, this was indeed not a man she could get away from. He slowly lifted his hand off her jaw, hovering it there just a second longer in case she decided to defy his orders. When she stayed quiet, he pulled her up to a sitting position and roughly tied a strip of fabric around her head, gagging her. It tasted awful, but she wasn't going to complain. He quickly proceeded to tie her hands and feet. Eliza was shaking from head to toe now. She's had the odd intruder in the night trying to assault her in the last few years, usually frustrated men her father picked out against her will for her to marry. Thankfully, her late uncle showed her a few tricks to defend herself when she was younger, and these unwelcome attempts always ended with them doubling over in severe pain, and Eliza getting a scolding from her old Sire, disappointed in her disinterest in any and every man. This wasn't anything like those nights. Tonight, she was scared senseless, and even if she wanted to defend herself, Eliza wasn't sure her body would follow her instructions. In one swift movement, the man picked her up by the waist and slung her body over his shoulder. He did this so effortlessly, as if she was light as a feather. She let out an involuntary whimper, silenced by the gag tied around her head. When he carried her down the big, sweeping stairs that led into the entrance hall, she heard more voices whispering on the ground floor. “You got her? Good. Keep quiet everyone, let's disappear." The girl turned her head, trying to make out who spoke and how many men there were, but her kidnapper seemed to wear something like a blanket or scarf draped over his top half of the body and she couldn't peer past it. He reached the bottom of the stairs and his quiet steps quickened, making for the entrance. Where were the guards and servants? Surely they would have raised the alarm by now. There should have been at least half a dozen riflemen on duty at every hour of the day, yet the house felt completely empty. She tried not to think about what happened before these men got to her. She got carried through the big double doors now, the cold night air full of whispers. The steps set a quick pace away from the open doors, the tall pillars, the sweeping porch. Her heart was still hammering in her chest, the man would surely feel it, and for some silly reason Eliza was ashamed and disappointed in this display of her fear. The crunch of the gravel beneath his feet turned soft as his boots stepped onto the grass, away from the path that led up to the mansion in a straight line. “Over here! Bring her here, we'll put her on Moonshine”, a low voice beckoned. They had reached the outskirts of the small woods that surrounded the manor, still no sign of any guards. She swallowed hard. Tied at her hands and feet, her mouth gagged, there was no way she could fight her way out of this. “Here, I'll take her off you Javier.” A pair of hands gripped her waist tightly, and she got swung around over a different pair of shoulders. After a few steps she got heaved up and across a mighty horse’s back end, the man secured her with a couple additional ties, then lifted himself up into the saddle on her left. She strained her neck trying to identify the group, but the night was moonless and all she could make out was shadowed figures, getting on their mounts and readying themselves to set off. Hooves padded over the ground and she was being carried away from her home, as their mounts changed from a walk into a trot, and then into a quick canter. - There were about four, five horses Eliza decided, by the sounds of their thundering hoofbeats. Every now and then she caught a glimpse of one galloping next to her, but she wasn't sure if it was the same each time. It was hard to keep her head lifted, as the up-and-down movement of the horses rear end took a toll on the muscles in her neck. They were riding for a while now, putting miles between her and her home, and her mind had settled a bit to allow somewhat rational thought. A group of men invaded her house, she got stolen out of her own bed, and now she was on the way to who-knew-where, to do who-knew-what to her. Was one of her spurned admirers behind all this? It seemed the most likely case, yet she did not know how they hoped to win her favour any more than the futile attempts of (mostly) polite conversation at the dinner table and (sometimes) the following bold, drunken advances, that (always) ended in her stern rejection.Her father had tried to set her up with over a dozen men of his choosing, of course all of them filthy rich, in powerful positions and all of them blessed with the nastiest personalities. She could imagine a few of them who would attempt something so foolish as to kidnap her, the unwelcome visits at night didn't exactly paint them as gentlemen that would take no for an answer. She was pondering over which one it would most likely be – Mr. Vanderbilt, who bragged about bedding several of his cousins; or Mr. Lemieux, a middle-aged Frenchman, whose accent alone made her stomach turn in disgust. She was pondering the options when she noticed the horses slowing down. The group came to a full stop, in the middle of nowhere still, when the man riding in the saddle on her side turned around with a creak of the saddle and wordlessly fashioned another piece of fabric as a blindfold, before removing her gag.Meanwhile, a modulated voice sounded from somewhere behind her.“I apologise for this rude abduction Miss, please stay quiet for a little while longer. We're not far from our destination, where you will be residing for a few days at least, until our business matters with her father come to an end.”This took her by surprise. Business matters? Her father only moved in the highest circles, what business partner of his would kidnap his daughter to help with some deal or other? It didn't make any sense. With no further talk the group moved on, Eliza now blindfolded, although the night was so dark that it didn't make too much of a difference anyway. About an hour later the horses slowed down again. The air was filled with the biting scent of burnt wood and the soft rustling of more horses could be heard, as she was carried through the undergrowth in a trot. The group came to a halt.“Welcome back boys! Did everything go to plan?”As soon as the men started to dismount, a high, crackling voice sounded.“Naturally. It was the perfect night for it, wasn't it boys? Now, get to your tents and catch some rest, well done everyone.”The same man that addressed her earlier, apologising for being 'rude'. She wanted to tell him what she thought of his apology, but deemed it wiser to keep her mouth shut, until further notice.There was some shuffling as the men unsaddled their mounts, and then the same man spoke again."Arthur, could you please bring the Miss to the accommodations we prepared for her?”The man climbing out of the saddle next to her answered in a low, grumbly voice.“Sure, you want me to keep her blindfold on? She won't be able to see much in there anyway.”“You're right, take it off when you've brought her in. After all we don't want to cause any discomfort to young Miss Cornwall!”

[twomanyideas]

The Search for the Supreme Scent

Fan art used with permission from @x-thekid A Collaboration by @mdelpin and @oryu404​ with @x-thekid

Fairy Tail Reverse Bang 2020 Pairing: Gray x Natsu AO3 | Ch 1 | Next: Ch 2

Summary: Natsu has decided he’s lived with his feelings for Gray long enough. It was one thing when he thought that Gray and Juvia were together, but now that he knows differently, he refuses to wake up one morning only to find that it's too late.

When Erza forces the two of them to do a job, he discovers it's just the opportunity he needs.

0-0

This is our entry for the Fairy Tail Reverse Bang, which was a really fun event hosted by @ftguildevents.

We were lucky enough to be paired with @x-thekid who is the wonderful artist behind this fan art. You can see her post here. Please take a moment to let her know how much you liked her art!

A few notes:

This story touches upon three in-game quests - Isosceles or Love Triangle (Juvia Character Story), Monster Outbreak from the Very Difficult Requests Set DLC, and The Search for the Supreme Scent (Ichiya Character Story).

This AU has elements of Fairy Tail canon, game canon, as well as game elements we have attempted to incorporate into the story. An example of this is duels, which is an in-game mechanism and not at all as dramatic as Gray might make them sound. ;)

In the game all the playable characters are always at Fairy Tail, this includes Jellal, Ichiya, Kagura, Sting, Rogue, Lyon and Chelia.

We had a lot of fun working on this story and we hope you enjoy it! It is four chapters long and we will post a chapter daily until it is done.

Chapter 1

Natsu entered the newly restored Fairy Tail Guild in his usual manner, kicking the door open and announcing his presence.

“I’m back!”

Only a few people looked up from what they were doing, accustomed as they were to his loud entrances.

“Morning Natsu,” Lucy greeted from her spot at their team table.

“Oh, hey Lucy,” Natsu walked over to the table, plopping down across from her while Happy went off searching for the other Exceeds.

“Are you taking a job with the slayers today, or are we going on a team job?” Lucy asked, and from the look on her face, he could tell which answer she was hoping for.

“No rent money again?” he asked with a knowing smile.

“I’ve been going on a few requests with Levy and the others, but the jobs they take don’t tend to pay as much,” she explained quickly. “Although,” she teased, “there’s definitely a lot less destruction.”

Natsu chuckled. He certainly couldn’t say the same of the jobs he’d been going on. He was bad enough on his own, but adding Sting and Gajeel to the equation, it soon grew beyond anything he could have imagined.

“Sorry, Sting and Rogue should be here any minute.”

“Oh well, I’m sure I’ll figure something out,” Lucy began, but her voice was drowned out somewhat unexpectedly.

“For the last time. NO,” Gray’s yells cut through all conversations, and everyone turned to see what was happening. “I don’t want to go on another job with you!”

Gray stood by the request board, holding a flyer in his hand. His mouth was set in a hard line, but his fingers moved ever closer to the hem of his shirt, which Natsu knew meant he was anxious. Juvia stood next to him, leaving barely any space between them, as she usually did. Her eyes filled with tears at Gray’s tone, her gaze imploring him to change his mind, but it seemed for once the ice mage was determined not to back down.

Natsu heard the murmurs start, and given the things that were being said, he hoped Gray wasn’t able to.

“But Gray-sama, we make a perfect team,” Juvia pleaded, still determined to get her way, “Our magics are compatible, and Juvia can protect you better than anyone.”

“I don’t need protecting,” Gray scowled, crossing his arms over his chest. “What I need is a partner who can keep their head on the job, and not on me.”

“Juvia can do that!” Juvia exclaimed, utterly oblivious to the rebuke. Her tears disappeared, and in her excitement, she grabbed on to Gray’s arm.

Gray shook himself free from her grasp and took a step back. “I said, NO,” he repeated firmly.

The guild’s murmurs only grew louder and more disapproving of Gray as Juvia once again began to cry, running off towards one of the rear exits that led to the pool. Many heads turned to follow her, some even sparing sympathetic looks, but no one offered to check on her, and after a few awkward seconds, Gajeel sighed and stepped up to the task. Natsu couldn’t help but feel bad for his rival, although his mind was swimming from what he’d just seen. Gray, however, seemed to have had enough. One second he was there, the next he was gone, and all that could be heard was the sound of the heavy guild doors slamming shut.

Natsu was as shocked as everyone else. Gray had always had a temper. He knew that better than anyone, but it was unlike him to lash out at any of the girls.

“What was that about?” he asked Lucy, who, like Mira, usually knew just about everything that went on in the guild.

Lucy peered at the guild doors thoughtfully and shrugged, “I guess she finally pushed too hard.”

“I thought he liked going on jobs with her,” Natsu commented, his brows furrowing in confusion when Lucy began to laugh.

“You really have been gone a lot, haven’t you?”

“What do you mean?” he frowned, not liking that there was something about Gray he didn’t know.

“All I know is last week he practically begged me to go on a job with the two of them,” Lucy confided, “I thought Juvia was going to find a way to stab me with her eyes. It was so awkward.”

She glanced around the guild to make sure no one was paying any attention to them before revealing, “He looked miserable too. And the sad thing was when I asked him why he wanted me there,” Lucy paused, looking pained by her next words, “He said he didn’t feel like his body was safe around her.”

Natsu tried to come up with some sort of retort but found he couldn’t focus on anything but the maelstrom of emotions brewing inside him at hearing those words. On the one hand, he was cautiously hopeful that maybe Gajeel had been right when he’d told him he was reading too much into Gray’s relationship with Juvia. But that was short-lived. It was soon replaced by an increasing fury at the idea of Gray feeling that way about someone in their guild- the one place where they should all feel safe. “Aren’t Cana’s drinks great?” Erza commented as she joined them at the table, holding a mug full of some strawberry smelling concoction, and saving Natsu from having to come up with a reply.

“They sure are,” Lucy agreed, seeming just as relieved to change the subject. “Just the thing before going on a job.”

His two friends continued talking about some of the other upgrades they had added to the guild while Natsu struggled to control himself. He could understand being angry on Gray’s behalf, but this rage flowing through him seemed excessive, and it disturbed him.

Gray had always been able to take care of himself. He didn’t need protection from anyone, least of all him. Natsu tried to take part in the conversation around him when Juvia happened to walk past him. The hair on the back of his neck rose, and to his great shock, he found himself growling at her, his fists balled and ready to attack. Juvia gaped at him before hurrying away from their table.

Lucy glanced at him curiously while Erza’s eyes narrowed at the display. Natsu could already tell he was in for it, and he wasn’t disappointed when he felt the sharp sting of her fist connecting with his head.

“For goodness sake, pull yourself together, Natsu! Is that what you slayers do on these jobs, act like wild animals?”

“Of course not!” he complained, rubbing his head, even as he tried to figure out what the hell had just happened.

“Did we miss something?” Sting Eucliffe asked as he promptly shoved Natsu further into the booth to make room for him and Rogue. “We saw Gray as we came in. He looks pissed.”

Natsu shrugged in reply, not wanting to get into what had happened.

“Are Gajeel and Wendy here yet?” Rogue asked, looking around the guild for the other slayers.

Natsu could tell the moment Gray reentered the guild, not just by the surge of his familiar scent but also by the whispers. When the ice mage took his seat at their table, Natsu made sure to look down at the tabletop so that Gray wouldn’t be able to see his face, just in case it betrayed his feelings.

Natsu could feel the guild’s temperature drop a few degrees as soon as Gray noticed Sting and Rogue. “Great, you two are here again.”

“Gray!” Erza scolded, “Is that any way to talk to our friends?”

Gray covered his eyes with his hand in what Natsu recognized as a futile attempt to control himself. A few moments later, he fixed his gaze on Natsu and scoffed, “So I’m guessing you’re going off with them again today?”

Natsu nodded, not trusting his words not to anger Gray further when he was so clearly holding on by a tenuous thread.

“When you talked to us about this, you said this shit was only going to be once a week,” Gray reminded him.

“I haven’t been gone that often,” Natsu protested, even though he knew it was certainly more than they had initially planned. “I don’t hear anyone else complaining.”

“Oh, believe me, we’ve all done plenty of complaining. You just haven’t been around to hear it. Lucy can’t make her rent from the jobs she can manage on her own.”

“If you’re so worried about Lucy, why don’t you go on a job with her?” Natsu challenged.

“Hey!” Lucy snapped, “Leave me out of this.”

“That’s not the point, and you know it,” Gray pinched the bridge of his nose, “Ugh, you’re giving me a headache.”

“What’s the matter, Princess?” Natsu goaded, “You miss me?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth, Flame Brain. You’re neglecting your friends- our team- to go off to play with the other dragon slayers.” To make matters worse, Sting decided to butt into the conversation. “Nah, we’re not playing! We’re, uh...pushing each other to get stronger!” he grinned, casually resting his elbow on Natsu’s shoulder. “You know, similar magic and all that.”

“Oh God,” Rogue hid his face behind his hand, looking ready to slide underneath the table.

“Did you just say I’m weak?” Gray spat furiously.

“Huh? Where did you get that from?”

“Just shut up, you’re only making things worse,” Natsu scolded his friend.

“Natsu! You can’t talk to Sabertooth’s Guild Master like that!” Erza berated, horrified by his words.

“What?! He doesn’t care!”

“That’s it!” Gray pounded his fist on the table, “I challenge you to a duel!”

If looks could kill, Sting would have dropped dead that very second.

“Yes, that’s a great idea!” Lyon exclaimed, suddenly appearing next to Gray. “If Sting wins, Natsu and Wendy can go to Sabertooth. And if you win, they can stay in Fairy Tail!” “Not this crap again!” Gray scowled at his foster brother. “Where the hell did you even come from? And why are you people here all the time?!” he complained, raising his hands in disbelief at all the non-Fairy Tail mages lounging around. “Don’t you have your own guilds?”

“I don’t see what your problem is, “ Lyon shrugged, “seems to me like it would fix everything.”

“Oh, hell no, I do not agree to that,” Natsu chimed in, “I love you guys, but I am a Fairy Tail wizard.”

“What the hell, Flame Brain, are you implying I’m going to lose to him?” Gray scoffed, looking offended, although Natsu thought he caught a glimpse of hurt in the ice mage’s expression for a moment.

“What?! I didn’t say that!” Natsu objected, but Gray refused to look at him.

“Who even said we wanted you?” Rogue pointed out, even though it was evident that Sting’s eyes were already lit up at the idea of a challenge.

“ENOUGH!” Erza shrieked, and when they continued to bicker despite her outburst, she muttered, “I’m surrounded by complete idiots!”

She watched them for another minute, looking from one wizard to the next. She grabbed Natsu and Gray by the collar, swiftly realizing they were the only two she could do anything about. Knocking their heads together, she managed to shut up Sting, Rogue, and Lyon, who could only stare at her in shock.

“They’re all insane,” Rogue muttered under his breath, but thankfully Sting was the only one to hear him.

“I’m sorry I’m late. Carla wanted to stop at the market and-,” Wendy stopped mid-sentence, marking the unnatural quiet at a table filled with people known for their loudness. She peered closer, noticing Natsu and Gray glaring at each other and sporting two large bumps on their heads. “Did I miss something?”

She moved over to their side of the table, calling on her magic to heal them, although this didn’t seem to ease their hostility in the slightest.

Thankfully the awkwardness was interrupted by Master Makarov making his way over to the stage.

“Settle down brats, I have an announcement to make,” Makarov yelled from the stage, waiting for a few minutes until he was sure he had everyone’s attention. Peering at the faces that were now intent on him, he remarked cheerfully, “Oh good, I see many of our friends are here! This concerns you too.”

“Do you know what this is about, Erza?” Lucy whispered, but Erza only shook her head.

“We have been through a lot in the last couple of years. All of you have shown courage and skill far beyond your years, and I am incredibly proud of you.” Makarov beamed.

“Now, about eight years ago, we were rudely interrupted in the middle of one of our time-honored traditions, and I, for one, think it’s time we finish what we started.”

“S-Class Trials?” Natsu and Gray chorused eagerly.

“Indeed!” Makarov confirmed with a wide grin, “When I informed the Council of my intentions, they asked that I open the testing up to the other guilds since we currently have the best setup for it. For that reason, the rules have changed a bit.”

“There will be no nominations this time. As far as I’m concerned, you have all more than proven yourselves, so anyone who feels ready is welcome to participate. Teams can have up to five members and may include wizards from different guilds. You may ask one S-Class Wizard to be part of your team if you wish. Any team that completes every exam phase successfully will see all its members promoted to S-Class. The exam will once again take place on Tenrou Island."

“That’s all I have for now. I will have more details on the test itself once I have spoken to the other Guild Masters,” Makarov peered down at Sting and Rogue with a smile. “Master Sting, am I right to assume you and Rogue will be participating?”

"Of course we are!" Sting was almost glowing with excitement, and even Rogue gave an eager nod.

“Alright then, we’ll figure out a way to keep you in the loop so you can pass the information along to the rest of your guild,” Makarov informed him, “We’ll talk about it later.”

Sting nodded in agreement, and Makarov turned his attention back to the others, “ I want you all to think about whether you will take part in the exam or not. I firmly believe you’re all capable of this, but only you can decide if you’re up to it. I’ll need your response by the end of the week, along with a list of your team members.”

With that, Makarov walked off the stage and made his way over to Cana’s bar, climbing onto a stool and ordering a drink. Everyone began to talk all at once, the guild’s noise rising to almost unbearable proportions for the dragon slayers.

Natsu couldn’t contain his excitement any more than the others; he would finally become S-Class! Something he and Gray had dreamed of doing from the moment Erza had joined their ranks so many years ago. He looked towards where Gray had been sitting just a few minutes earlier, only to find the seat empty.

[jjba-arni-reblog]

Evening

Ay, the 1st  prize is here. Thank you again @haruggio for participating and requesting such a cute scenario. It was a pleasure to write for you! I hope you and anyone else will like it. Jolyne needs more love!

Pairing: Jolyne/Reader

Words: 2k+ 

~~~

The warm of the Floridian sun touched your skin as you walked towards a house after grocery shopping. It wasn’t a big house, but it sure felt welcoming. This was the place you shared with Jolyne, your girlfriend. To say that the way you got together was ‘special’ would be an understatement.

You knew Jolyne before the whole incident of her getting into prison (yet again), being somewhat awkward friends at first. It wasn’t unusual for you to bail her out of the prison on regular as the woman frequently got into fights, whether to defend someone or just because. Jolyne would always smile as you nagged her about the many incidents of her having a short temper.  Unsurprisingly, you met Jolyne’s mom in the prison too, as the two of you were there to ‘rescue’ Jojo. She was a nice lady, worrying over her only daughter endlessly. However, you never saw a father figure in Jolyne’s life, as the teenager at that time stated multiple times that she doesn’t want to see her father.

However, the fate decided the other way. You met Jolyne again in the prison, however the circumstances were different this time. You were framed by an old friend of yours. It felt almost concerning how much your and Jolyne’s stories aligned together. Even though Jojo was ecstatic to see you again, you knew she felt worried over her and your futures. You two met another woman name Hermes, quickly becoming friends and trying to survive the prison life together.

Around the same time, Jolyne met her father for the first time in years. After the unfortunate meeting you were the one listening to her complains at the young women couldn’t help but to despise her father for many reasons.

It was also because of her father that the three of you got stands, which almost immediately made you face other stands user, whether friendly or not. You met another group of people consisting of two men and a small child, further forming a circle of friend, even if Anasui was a bit weird.

At some point, the true villain revealed himself. Pucci. The man was an eery priest in the prison, however his further action proved him to be a horrible man, as he stole Jotaro’s memories, making Jolyne even more distressed. And so the hunt began. You faced many opponents during that time, resulting in multiple scars as the enemies got crueller each time. However, you also found love and support from Jolyne, as the woman casually confessed to you, worried that she might not have another opportunity to do so. Even if the time wasn’t right, one needs to take the best out of it. That is, until Pucci decided to appear once again. But this time, his ultimate plan wasn’t to steal one’s memories. Instead he longed for a bigger achievement. Changing the universe. Reaching heaven.

He didn’t.

He lost to the man he gained the last piece of the puzzle. Jotaro Kujo landed the final punch, anger overwhelming the man at the sight of knifes sticking out of his daughter. And you. You partially shielded your dearest friend, desperate to not let Pucci win. And it worked. The injuries weren’t as deep, and she was able to survive with the help of the medics from the Speedwagon foundation. The whole group miraculously survived, with Weather, Foo Fighters and Jotaro having the worst wounds.

From that point on, came the long physical and mental therapy as the nightmares hunted all of you, the sheer fear over your loved ones. Together, it felt easier. Even if a little.

Over the time, things got better, you and Jolyne were given a separate home, surprisingly from Jotaro as the man understood that your relationship was serious. He announced it through a call, sending keys later and giving the address. It was a small but a significant start.

You were approaching your shared house, grocery bags in hands as you manoeuvred your keys out of the pocket, opening the door to let yourself in. You then announced your arrival as per usual.

You closed the door after yourself, eyeing the living room in search for your girlfriend. It was surprisingly quiet, no usual warm greetings and Jolyne running out of the room to bring you into a crushing hug.

‘Strange’ you thought, putting the bags down to take off your jacket, then hanging it in a small dresser.

“Jolyne?” you called for her, thinking that maybe she is just listening to music and didn’t hear you arrive. Before you could take another step, Jolyne suddenly appeared from the ceiling supported by her stand’s ropes.

You let out a scream at her ‘surprise’ as she started to laugh, hanging down from the ceiling like a spider. It took you a moment to calm down, then eyeing her annoyingly. The surprise worked.

“Jesus, Jolyne, what the hell?” you smacked her shoulder a little as the woman before you was chuckling still, her hair handing down as her usually buns were unravelled, showing off her long hair.

“Surprise” she smirked at your annoyed face, pulling herself up a little so that your head was on the same level “Now, where is my kiss, Mary Jane?” Jolyne wiggled her eyebrows at you, still hanging upside down. Seems like it was her plan all along.

“Sometimes I can’t believe how cheesy you are, Jojo” you felt your annoyance disappear a little at her suggestion. Seeing her smiling widely at you and waiting for her kiss, you couldn’t help but to ease up and smile back at her.

“Alright,” you sighed a little at her mischievous nature, stepping closer so you could place your hands on her cheeks, itching closer.

You felt her plump lips against yours as you tilted your head a little for a better angle while tracing her cheeks with your hands. You could feel her smiling eagerly into the kiss.

Pulling away, you couldn’t help but to smile at her now slightly blushing face.

“Are you happy now?” you asked Jolyne as she stared at you lovingly. She never failed to be charming.

“With you – always,” she winked, chuckling at your eyeroll.

Jolyne jumped down, landing on the floor as she noticed the bags.

“Let me help you,” she quickly insisted, taking the bags and carrying them to the kitchen. You couldn’t waste the opportunity to look at her beautiful and quite muscular back. All the fights and working out in the prison only made her more athletic, which she would often use to her advance, carrying and lifting you.

“Whatcha got there?” you could hear Jolyne from the kitchen as you took off your shoes. Standing up, you walked towards the kitchen, joining your girlfriend.

“Well, I thought we could cook some homemade brigadeiro,” you explained, taking things out of the bag and placing them on a counter “oh, I also got us pasta,” you showed her the package, putting it away from the ingredients for the sweets.

“Can’t wait!” Jolyne answered happily, now helping you by sorting ingredients and putting some of them in the fridge. She then moved to stand next to you, as you took out measuring tools. You told her to check your phone for the recipe, so you two could start cooking.

After you properly measured the needed amount of ingredients, you two slowly cooked next to each other as Jolyne told you about a recent call from Weather.

“Please tell me you are joking,” you tried not to chuckle as you heard the news.

“No, for real! He cried after meeting Mickey Mouse,” Jolyne smirked, re-telling the story. Weather, Anasui and Foo Fighter had plans to go visit Disneyland and it seemed like they succeeded in doing so this weekend.

“That is very cute,” you noted, stirring the chocolate in a pan as you continued to listen to Jolyne.

“They also went to a haunted house, ending with Foo Fighters almost fighting the actors and Anasui being carried by Weather”

“Oh”

You two burst out laughing.

After a while, you mixed the ingredients together, then putting dirty plates and cups in the sink as you let the mix for the supposed brigadeiros to cool down.

“Hey,” Jojo called for you, as you dried your hands on the towel.

“What?” you turned around, only to be met with a cheeky grin.

“Boop” Jolyne said, as she smeared chocolate on your nose, effectively ‘booping’ you.

“Hey!” you exclaimed as she laughed “Don’t play with food, Jojo” you rolled your eyes smiling a little.

As you washed off the chocolate, you couldn’t help but to smirk at the idea that popped up in your mind.

You made your hands wet again with the water, turning towards your girlfriend yet again. Before she could say anything, you splashed her with water a little as you could hear Jojo’s surprised gasp at your action.

You quickly found yourself behind the counter as you mirrored Jolyne’s playful expression as she stood in the opposite.

“You gonna get it,” she warmed you, itching closer to you as you stepped back a little, making sure you had the distance to escape her.

“Only if you’ll catch me” you winked at her, moving a little. Jolyne quickly tried to run towards you, resulting in you two making a circle around the counter. Trying to reach you from across it seemed futile as you leaned back while chuckling at your girlfriend.

“Don’t make me use my stand,” Jojo playfully threatened you, making her stand manifest slightly behind her.

“Don’t make me eat all the chocolate,” you answered back, seeing slightly shocked expression on woman’s face.

“You wouldn’t dare!” Jolyne exclaimed theatrically.

“We’ll see about that,” you smirked, eyeing the mix as Jojo followed your gaze. She quickly looked back at you, teasing smile on her face as she ran around the counter. You were quick to run as well, now ending in a reverse position.

After a couple more minutes of running, you suddenly felt her catch you, wrapping her arms tightly around you from behind. Jolyne spun you around. She quickly hugged you closer, attacking you with kisses, planting them across your face as you couldn’t help but to giggle in her strong hold.

“Okay, okay, you got me,” you kissed her cheek as Jojo eased her hold on you, nuzzling into your beck affectionately

“You are even sweeter than chocolate,” she said. You felt your cheeks warm up a little, running your hand through her loosely tied hair.

You two decided to check on the mix, making them into balls and then covering them in sprinkles. The result tasted really sweet as you two commented on your hard work.

You decided to then watch a movie. You were checking if there was anything on the TV when you heard sounds coming from the kitchen. Rolling your eyes, you called for your girlfriend.

“Don’t eat everything, Jojo”

“I can’t help it,” Jolyne mumbled, you could hear that she has already stuffed her mouth with sweets. She then took some of the brigadeiros as well as salty snacks to you. You already had blankets prepared for the full cuddling session.

Jolyne moved closer as you shared your blanket with her. Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around you, cuddling you as you two lied down, surrounded by soft pillows around you. You had previously dimmed the lights for the full movie atmosphere.

As a first movie was playing, you felt her itching closer to you.

“Hey” she whispered in your ear “hey, hey” she continued.

“Yes?” you answered back, not quite sure what to expect.

“Wanna hear a spoiler?” you could almost hear the cheekiness in her voice as Jojo smiled evilly.

“Don’t you dare,” you harshly whispered back.

“But what if the main character…”

“Don’t”

“Well…hypothetically………was to die at the end?”

“Jolyne!” you exclaimed.

“Well, HYPOTHETICALLY”

“It means he will, right?” you sighed, now turning your head towards Jojo.

“Well, who knows?~” she winked at you, kissing your cheek affectionately.

“I can’t with you, Jojo. He better not die at the end,” you eyed her half-sternly as she made puppy eyes. She brought you closer into the hug, placing her head on your chest area, using you as a pillow.

“Don’t fall asleep on me,” you casually warned her, itching down to kiss her head.

“You are way too comfortable,” Jolyne answered, squeezing you a little. You traced patterns on her arms as you two were about the finish the movie. Thankfully, the main character did not die.

You decided to put on another film.

“Oh, this one! I saw it, here the dude actually dies!” Jolyne suddenly spoke up.

“STOP!” you half chuckled, getting up and hitting her with a pillow.

“Oh, it’s on” Jolyne smirked, getting herself a pillow and starting the fight.

Neither of you eventually won as Jolyne tiredly tackled you, effectively hugging you again.

“Alright, draw?” she asked, panting a little.

“Yes, please” was your answer.

Jojo itched closer, kissing you as you wrapped your arms around her neck. After couple of second, you broke it off. You felt Jolyne kiss your nose as you two got comfortable again.

“Hey, you know…”

“What is it?”

“I want you to meet my parents”

This was not what you expected.

“Well, we have met…” you said, unsure if you could call it a ‘real’ meeting. You surely met her mother multiple times. In case of her father, the circumstances weren’t the best.

“No, no, for real this time. Without all….this, without the panic and the need to bail me out” your girlfriend chuckled at the fond memory “they seem interested in learning about my social life….well, mom mostly. You know how my dad is,” Jolyne explained, her eyes shifting a little at the mention of her father.

“Yeah… he is pretty intimidating,” you hesitated on how to describe the man.

“More like lame. He still wears his snake pants even though he is forty. Talk about fashion disaster,” Jolyne rolled her eyes, laughing a little as she remembered the infamous outfit of her dad.

“Well, how about a dinner or something?” you suggested. The look on Jolyne’s face has changed to an excited one.

“Oh, that would be great! And we can make brigadeiros again!” she faced you, smiling widely at the idea of cooking together again.

“That is, if you won’t eat everything before we will meet them,” you raised your eyebrow, chuckling as Jolyne’s expression changed into a slightly offended one.

“Rude”

Jojo pinched your side a little, making you yelp.

“Alright, alright~” you pecked her lips.

She turned towards the small table, taking her phone from it. Jojo messaged her mom as your eyes were on the TV.

“I asked about the date and if my dad will be available,” Jolyne explained, putting her phone away and hugging you again.

After a couple of minutes, you heard a notification sound. Jolyne took her phone, opening the messages.

“How about the next weekend? We don’t have any plans, right?” she asked, ready to type the response back.

“None that I remember of,” you answered.

“Then it is settled,” Jojo concluded “Ah, maybe now my mom will stop nagging me about you. She is always asking about you. Dad also, even if a bit awkwardly. But he does care, in his own way.”

You smiled hearing Jolyne speak of her father. It was still complicated for her to accept him but slowly, she started to open up a little. Jotaro sometimes messaged her, asking about her life, even if awkwardly. The man would usually send her picture of the ocean. He became a part of her life, for once.

Remembering your first encounter with the man himself, you couldn’t help but go back to the endless battles in the prison. Your eyes shifted to Jolyne’s arms and all the battle scars on her delicate skin. You traced her arm lightly, which was not left unaware by your girlfriend.

“Do they hurt?” you couldn’t help but to ask.

“Not really, maybe sometimes they feel itchy,” Jojo explain, eyeing her arm a little, without further interest.

“I am sorry I couldn’t-“

“Shush, don’t,” she quickly shut you down, hugging you closer so that you could look her in the eyes. “We both know there was nothing you or anyone could do as I faced multiple battles alone. We all did,” she explained, a slightly sad smile on her face “we are alive and that’s all that matters” Jojo concluded.

“Still…” you tried to say something else.

“It’s all in the past,” Jolyne kissed your cheek, “I am now here with you, in the present,” she continued, now unraveling her arms from around you.

“We are okay” she put her soft hands on your cheeks, tracing them a little as she kissed your nose “and I am happy with you,” she kissed your cheeks, smiling slightly as she saw a notion of a blush on your face. Jolyne itched closer, tilting her head a little.

“Me too” you whispered before she brought you into a kiss.