#that's why i tend to give the girls (and the boys i draw in skirts) leggings underneath like. Aren't you cold!!!!!

[meirimerens]

i don't know how cold it gets in [ambiguous place] steppic Town-on-Gorkhon + i live in a part of southern france where we're used to Very Mild autumns but wouldn't khan be like. Cold in his fucked up boy scouts fit. at least at night. aren't the GIRLIES cold in their little skirts. does the polyhedron have heated floors. do the dogheads just lie down to sleep. on the heated polyhedron floors.

[bitchwhoreofastorm]

The sun is rising and Bal Fell is just as Sotha Sil remembers it. The little island sits like a tower unto itself in the centre of the Ald Sotha lagoon, a cluster of stilt-perched wooden huts clustered like the polyps of a fringing reef on the skirts of a ruined Aldmeri tower. An understory of corkbulb and kanet grows in the shadows of those huts and their boardwalks, still cool from the night even as the civilization above it catches the first vivid rays of the sun. The sky above is as blue as an opal, the town is already lively with fishermen departing and fishermen returning, cooking-fires are being kindled, the air is thick with the brine of dried fish and the sweet nectar of mangoes and the stench of kelp, and for a moment, there, it all feels like home.

Sotha Sil does not make for the bustle on the boardwalks. He goes instead to the space beneath the huts, ducking under a low stairway and emerging into the world of wooden pillars and sand beneath the causeway. All around him boards creak sonorously, settling into the new warmth of the day; the first whispers of a sea-breeze tickle the heads of the corkbulb. The tide is in, and clear water wells up around the legs of the huts, producing glistening little rivulets that reach back towards the sea. Bright red crabs with banana-coloured claws flee from his every footstep.

Odd, he feels like he knows where he's going. He played down here too, once, a sickly boy struggling to clamber through the underworld, calling after the other village kids. He'd cast his first successful levitation spell to free himself from the soupy sand. Does he know where he's going, then? Yes, of course-- all the children of Bal Fell play down here-- and sure enough, there she is.

The netchiman's wife, too, is exactly as Sotha Sil remembers her. She's crouching on the balls of her feet by a corkbulb, wrist-deep in a puddle, babbling to herself as she sifts the muck.

"One, two." Sotha Sil hears her mumbling, as he draws closer. "One, two, Altadoon… crabby crab, hand a sword, sword's a hand, your swords are hands, sera crab…" She's nearly singing it, in the childish drawl that very young girls tend to have, rocking her head rhythmically back and forth all the while. "Sera crab, you've got a mace for hands, one, two, altadoon, mate with a mace, one, two… have you caught one, Seht?"

He's standing behind her and she's turned to look at him. If she stood upright she would not even reach his waist. Her face is smeared with dirt, her white hair is tangled and hangs down to her stick-thin biceps, she wears only a tunic of tattered rags, but her eyes are so golden they seem to glow.

Sotha Sil kneels beside her. His robes are soaked through at the knees immediately, the wet sand giving beneath him; he pays this no mind. "Should I be trying to catch them?"

She ignores him. She turns her gaze back to her puddle of sand, plunges both hands deep into the quagmire. Plumes of sediment churn up around her tiny forearms.

"You know me," observes Sotha Sil.

"Mm-hmmmm," she hums. "Brother Seht."

"Brother-Sister Vehk."

"No…"

Sotha Sil eases himself back to sitting on his artificial heels. Corkbulb grazes his palms, wetness seeps up towards his thighs, and overhead, on the edge of a balcony, a woman is hanging fish out to dry. The netchiman's wife hasn't looked at him again.

"What are you looking for?" Sotha Sil asks.

"Something you've lost," replies the netchiman's wife. "Are you looking for it too?"

"No, I'm just visiting. Why are you searching for something I've lost?"

"Because you need it." She speaks in the matter-of-fact way that very young and very confident children speak. "Because the world will end if you don't have it."

"And was is it I've lost?"

"The plot."

It's all Sotha Sil can do not to laugh. The joke is so candid, and so Vivec, and said so unlike a joke. He presses his hand to his mouth briefly, then rests his hands on his knees and leans forwards. "Well, that does sound important," he says patiently. "Shall I help you search?"

And the netchiman's wife looks up at him. "Yes," she says gravely, "You must."

The tide has not shifted from its perch and the sun has not moved in the sky. The shadows beneath the huts remain cool, the sand slate-smooth, and in amongst the bushy corkbulb and wiry tangles of beach-weed, the bright red crabs with banana-coloured claws stand out like little jewels.

This is a favourite game of all who grow up in South Vvardenfell, a game that Sotha Sil has not played in a long time; he finds, to his surprise, that he's retained his skill, that long-dormant instincts snap to life and guide his hands.

Within minutes he's caught himself a crab. Pinching it by its larger claw, he proffers it to the netchiman's wife, and asks:

"Will this suffice?"

She looks at it, her honey-coloured eyes huge and baleful. She wrinkles her tiny nose and answers seriously:

"No!"

Few blades cut deeper than a child's scorn. Sotha Sil drops his crab and wipes his hand upon his robe.

"It's no good," the netchiman's wife scolds him. "You need one with meat, and scales, and teeth, and a tail, or it will never be a plot."

"And wings?" asks Sotha Sil.

"Yes," she says firmly, "Every plot must have wings. It's got to have wings to do its job."

Behind her, the sun sits low in the sky; the dawn hangs suspended like a held breath, spilling gold over everything. The water pooling in the wet sand glitters in place.

"Is that what you're looking for, Vivec?" Sotha Sil asks softly. "A dragon?"

"Vivec left," says the netchiman's wife, looking down at her puddle. "He came here but he's gone now."

"Is he looking for the plot?"

"No. He's seeking Lord Bal in Lyg. He's turning into my father. He's dancing on the lagoon and he's playing in Ald Sotha. He's getting married, too." The netchiman's wife stills her arms in the sand. "I'm helping him."

"How are you helping him? By finding a plot?"

"He needs a lot of help. He hates weddings. I don't. I don't mind being married."

"So... You're to be married on his behalf?"

"He's getting married to you, Seht."

The dawn is stagnant, oozing its splendid colours-- gold, silver, the most fragile blue-- and the netchiman's wife is looking up at him with the gentlest judgement he's ever been faced with.

He is not a brave man. He tears his gaze away from the child. "We're fixing Time," he tries to explain, staring hard at the salt-crusted underside of a shack. "The Dragon broke, but the Dunmer should not need care about dragons. We are their gods-- why can we not fix time? I'm going to find a way to fix it, very soon. You-- he won't have to endure this much longer."

He's not a brave man, so he looks back to her, then, imploring. Her eyes are wide and perplexed, her head cocked to the side. "Fix it?"

"I have an idea for a machine that will make time flow linearly. But I need-- certain concepts, and certain parts from the Dwemer, and a mechanism I played with as a young child."

"You're building a dragon?" she asks with wonder.

"Not quite. I plan to use gears to force linear time… it's complicated."

She looks down at her hands in the mud. "You won't help me, then," she murmurs. "Will you."

That omnipresent dawn is growing unbearable, too much colour spilling fiery vermilion over a city that was-- is, will be-- engulfed in flames. Even their shadowy haven is silver and pure, the mid-summer haven as precious as he remembers it. Only the child that Vivec once was seems dirtied here.

He is not a brave man; Sotha Sil closes his eyes.

"Forgive me," he says through his teeth, "But I cannot stay. I must fix this, I-- I am sorry."

And when he looks again he is in the Temple, and time is breaking into blacks and whites around them, and Almalexia is by his side, muttering prophecy, her face buried in her hands.

[bellatrixscurls]

"LOVEMAKING" WITH THE HARRY POTTER CHARACTERS

marauders era

golden era (boys edition)

golden + marauders era (girls edition)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Remus John Lupin

• a fucking dom and i'm not taking 'no' for an answer.

• takes punishment very seriously. like he would do anything just to teach you a lesson and you can't fool him into letting you off easy.

• every full moon, remus gets rougher so that's why he tends to keep you away. and let's be honest, sex with remus is always amazing, but it gets even better near and on the full moon.

• will make you ride his thigh if you act bratty and interrupt him while he's doing homework.

• is very possessive but will share you with james and sirius from the to time (only if sirius agrees to be a sub).

• library sex!! plenty of it, and you have to be quiet or you'll get punished really badly.

• !!suck on remus' fingers if you need him and absolutely can't wait!! it'll make him go feral and he'll be pounding into you in a matter of seconds.

• is into light degrading (when you're being bad), praising, voyeurism, bondage, gagging, spanking.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Sirius Orion Black

• a switch.

• will probably make you gag on his cock as a form of punishment (but in reality, he does it just because he loves the sight).

• will go to the end of the world to assure you that you're the prettiest little thing alive. even in bed, all the time.

• will give you lots of nicknames, but i feel like his favourite one is 'puppy'.

• this man can literally praise you now and then degrade you like a few seconds after.

• is a sex god. i know it, you know it, he knows it, everyone knows it.

• aftercare with sirius is the sweetest thing that'll ever happen to you. he is so gentle, drawing you a warm bath, bringing you snacks (etc) even if he overstimulated you to no end just a couple of minutes before.

• sirius bites. and he bites hard. he will bite your cheek, shoulder, jaw, chest - literally every piece of flesh he can find. he likes to call it 'cute aggression'.

• has the biggest breeding kink. like, you completely melt when he tells you that you're the only person he's ever done this with.

• he's also into : a mix of praise and degradation, collars, cuffs, hair pulling, choking, gagging. has a major daddy kink.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

James Potter

• cutest sub.

• most of the time, he's very obedient and will do literally anything you tell him to.

• loves when you peg him, but loves it even more when you touch him, his cock, his body in general.

• when you're ridding/pegging/giving him a blowjob, he'll ask for lots of kisses. it's something that assures him that even if you're being rough/edging him, you still love him and are there for him.

• will cry if you don't give him kisses. with like, real tears.

• has an obsession with your tits. like, he'll always beg you to sleep topless so he can suck on them and rest his cheek upon them.

• tip : don't degrade him when he's being good, only do it when he's not behaving.

• CALLS YOU MOMMY.

• corruption kink, choking, cuffs, dom/sub, public sex.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Regulus Arcturus Black

• DOM.

• has lots of rules and if you even dare break any of them, you're fucked.

• won't let anyone join, you're his and only his. sirius is an exception though.

• likes when you call him 'my prince' and 'sir'.

• he'll let you take control from time to time, but not full control.

• breeeeding. everywhere, anytime.

• likes to tease you in public places and see you squirm and buck your hips for him. but don't even try to do the same to him - he'll just keep a straight face the whole time and your punishment will be bad.

• loves to fuck you in front of mirrors, against the walls and pretty much anywhere but on beds. regulus thinks that 'fucking in bed is overrated'.

• will degrade you all the time, only a light trace of praise every now and then.

• has a sir kink.

• is into all the freaky stuff. like all the freaky stuff.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Lucius Malfoy

• hard dom. like, really hard dom.

• will fuck you bloody, because he adores seeing you struggle to walk to your classes. and will even give your arse a few innocent slaps every now and then, until you're falling into his arms.

• kinkiest little shit out there. has all types of toys, vibrators, cuffs, collars. and he will use them all.

• give him a reason to be mad, i dare you.

• punishments with lucius are really bad, sometimes even worse than the overstimulation.

• likes to suck harshly on your clit because he knows it brings you both pain and pleasure, which, in his opinion, 'are the perfect combination'.

• likes to fuck you on his lap, with your skirt on. not only because he likes to have you close, but because, in case anyone walks in on you, they won't be able to see what's his.

• he'll leave bruises everywhere, and i mean everywhere.

• sex with cissy and lucius. pure heaven.

• makes you wear his clothes all the time when you don't have classes, because 'you just look so cute like this'.

• will treat you like a literal puppy - when you behave - like, he'll pet your head, rub under your chin and up and down your back.

• lucius fucks and he fucks hard (like father, like son) and this man lives for overstimulation.

• he's into everything but foot fetish. like, he often compliments your feet (and every other part of your body) but he is simply not into it.

[helaintoloki]

Hello! May I request Five, along with his s/o (who also has abilities) and Luther meets Five older self to get the briefcase?

a/n: I always struggle when it comes to writing fics based on specific scenes and I think it shows here haha // also I brought back your fave since you guys asked for her so much but this is the only time!!!

The sudden slam of the door pulls your gaze away from the daisy bush you’d been tending to and up at a disgruntled Five. His eyes are nearly bulging out of their sockets and his hair is drenched from the sweat that coats his face, and it’s with hesitancy that you slowly rise from your crouched position in the same exact moment that Five clenches his jaw with a loud pop.

“Well?” You prod uneasily. “What did he say?”

“We’ve got a deal,” Five swallows harshly. “But that doesn’t mean I trust him.”

“Isn’t... isn’t he you?”

“Exactly,” Five says through clenched teeth, only seeming to further your confusion.

You hadn’t exactly been paying attention when Five explained his plan to find another way home, but you knew it had something to do with finding his older self and something to do with homicidal rage. This didn’t exactly surprise you, and when he asked for your help you accepted without protest, but if you had known just how messy things would get you probably would have given your answer some more thought. Nonetheless, you’re here now, and with a small frown you tuck a daisy into the pocket of Five’s uniform jacket then push back the sweaty strands of hair that stick to his forehead.

The door opens again, and this time it is Luther who emerges with an older man in tow. His eyes meet your own in a glare, weary of your presence and unsure of what business you could possibly have being there right now.

“Who’s the Girl Scout?” He whispers to Luther.

“Actually, she’s kind of your girlfriend-“

“My girlfriend,” your Five corrects through clenched teeth, a pleasant surprise considering the fact that this is the first time he’s ever acknowledged you as his partner. “I don’t really think you’re her type.”

“We better get going,” Luther interrupts with a nervous laugh before the two can truly get into it. “Wouldn’t want to be late, would we?”

The two Fives stare at each other silently before moving, and with a skip in your step you happily follow alongside your anxious boyfriend. He’s extremely on edge and jumpy, everything appears to be a threat to him and he scares various children that pass him by— You’d laugh if the situation weren’t so serious.

“Mind your business!”

“Five, you need to relax. Luther says you can’t get all crazy, remember?” You try to coax him.

“I’m not crazy,” he scoffs with offense. “This is the greatest I’ve ever felt in my entire li- I’ll give you something to stare at!”

“Lord, help me,” you sigh, flinching as Five yells out again, “you wish you could pull off these shorts!”

“You know what, I’m switching with Luther,” you utter in defeat before walking ahead to catch up with the two men in front of you. “Can you handle him because I can’t.”

“Oh, geez,” Luther sighs before leaving you alone with Five’s older counterpart.

“So how do I end up with a hippie like you?” He asks almost condescendingly but you take no offense. This guy seems just as nervous as the one behind you.

“I have powers,” you shrug only for him to look upon you incredulously.

“What kind?” He asks, watching in subtle awe as you grow a tiny dandelion from the palm of your hand. “How’d that happen?”

“I like to think it was all the drugs my mom took while she was pregnant with me,” you answer with a shrug, and it seems to satisfy him for he presses you no further.

“I know you’re planning to double cross him, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t kill my boyfriend,” you say nonchalantly. The Five beside you lets out a bewildered laugh.

“Who said anything about double crossing?”

“I know you,” you explain, “and I know you’re going to try to save your own skin. But I also know that if either of you fucks this up then you’re just going to mess up the timeline.”

“Listen, kid-“

“Y/n, my name’s y/n and you love me in this timeline. You haven’t loved anyone since Delores.”

His eyes soften at the mention of his mannequin counterpart, a moment of weakness that lets you know you’re getting through to him.

“I know it was scary being alone for so long, and I know you’re not a bad person. So could you please just think about it? It would really stink if I never got to meet you. Well, younger you, of course.”

He says nothing as you walk ahead of him and towards the Grassy Knoll, a skip in your step and a flower tucked into the belt of your skirt. It was odd, meeting someone you didn’t know— well, at least not in your lifetime— who seemed to know so much about you. He didn’t like you very much but he could understand why his younger counterpart might have gone soft on you. You were a light in the dark and a beacon of hope during a time of utter disaster.

Behind him, his younger counterpart is on a tangent. With all the conviction in his little body he proclaims himself as a father to his uncomfortable brother, and the act draws unwanted attention from those who pass by. But then he watches as the boy pulls a dainty daisy from his pocket, inhaling the scent deeply as if it’ll ail all of his troubles. And perhaps it helps because it’s from you.

“Daisies,” the old man scoffs, shrugging off his moment of weakness before continuing on his way to the Grassy Knoll.

[softomi]

now accepting boyfriend applications: literature

synopsis: phone dead, laptop gone, guess it’s an old fashioned having to sit down and talk to the boys who apparently are interested in the position of being your boyfriend. first; you just have to make it to your literature class. 

series: now accepting boyfriend applications

previous: now accepting boyfriend applications

next up: intro to business 

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

*bold means I wasn’t able to tag you*

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

Your phone was still charging, it’s in your bag plugged into a power bank and you’re hoping it’ll charge enough soon. You’ve made it to campus with five minutes to spare, you can already see Akaashi through the windows of the class. He’s absolutely cute and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about what it would be like to date him, but you were so blissfully in love with your ex that you never took the chance to fully indulge yourself to fantasize.

And while he’s in class looking like he just walked right out of a manga in a university setting; you look exactly as it would sound like, as if you just woke up and ran to campus. Your hair is a mess, you tried running through campus attempting to put it up in a bun, it’s lopsided and you’re using the hood of your sweatshirt to try and cover up the mess of a mop it is. It doesn’t help that the only reason you’re wearing a sweatshirt is because you didn’t have time to put on a bra so yeah, you’re walking around campus with no bra on and the ugly sweatpants with wine stains on it doesn’t do you justice either. You’re even decked out with a pair of sandals.

Honestly, how were you going to walk into class, look at Akaashi in the face, and just act as if he didn’t send you a boyfriend application. When he sees you, he’ll definitely retract his resume.

There’s two minutes left and you’re awkwardly poking your head in. No one is giving you the time of day but it feels like all eyes are on you when you step in. Perhaps you shouldn’t be too ashamed of your looks as you’re nearing the end of the semester and most girls have switched out their cute skirts for tracksuit pants.

You’re slowly going towards your seat, Akaashi diligently writing in his notebook and he finally looks up. Through his glasses, he meets your gaze, his lips slowly part and he’s blinking as if wondering if you were really you. As you pull into your seat, he stares down at his notebook, he’s stopped writing and everything in you is just screaming at you to not scream out loud because there was no going back on this weird friendship type relationship that you two have developed.

Akaashi shuffles in his seat, his body is turned to face you and he’s so close to opening his mouth when the teacher’s voice makes his thoughts stop. He turns back to face the front, no words exchanged as you pull out your notebook, pencil, and charging cell phone that’s just reached fifteen percent. For the first time since the beginning of the semester, you’re going to take notes and listen intently to this hour and fifteen-minute long lecture.

Only ten minutes have passed and your professor has done nothing but decided to review on what the difference between a primary article and a secondary article is because some people just don’t understand why Wikipedia is not an official source. You peek a look over at Akaashi. He, too, seems incredibly bored but his hardworking nature has him at least trying to focus on the professor despite the pen in his hand drawing circles on his notepad.

When he looks over at you, a small smile on his lips, you’re quick to turn away with a blush on your cheeks.

At thirty minutes, your phone is dancing on the edge of thirty percent. It’s enough to get you to start looking through your phone and you find yourself once again clicking on Akaashi’s email. You lean your arm onto the desk, tilting your body just enough that you think he wouldn’t be able to see that you’re looking at his boyfriend application.

You’re skipping passed official details, instead ceasing the scrolling when you reach his skillset. It’s all very professional sounding despite him referring to relationship and dating. It makes you crack a smile, you want to laugh out loud and not because it’s funny but because it’s actually really cute.

One of my skillsets is my height, considering your shorter height, I will be able to provide assistance whenever needed. While I may once in a while enjoy your smaller stature, I will try not to bring it up repeatedly to spare you of your feelings.

You bite down on your lower lip, suppressing the immense grin that wants to grow on your face. Through the strands of your hair, you peek another glance at him. This time he’s removed his glasses, rubbing his eyes slowly, a small yawn falling through his lips.

My biggest weakness is my busy schedule. I spend most of my days working part-time at the campus library and studying. As a literature major, I have multiple readings, essays, and assignments which may hinder my time to have a steady relationship but I believe that this weakness will later play a role as a strength in how devoted I am to what I love.

Well, that just made your heart skip ten beats.

My future goals include working as an editor, but right now my shorter-term goal would be to graduate with my literature degree on time. Another short-term goal I had developed over the semester was to ask you out on a date.

Your stomach spirals, you’re internally groaning at how cute this actually was.

“There’s twenty minutes left of class, during this time I’d like you to discuss with your revision partner about your last draft.”

Shit. You’re screaming in your head because this was not happening. Now you had to talk to Akaashi. The voices of students have now taken over the classroom, when you turn to look at Akaashi, a meek smile on you as he’s staring with his head tilted.

“Are you alright?” He’s asking so nicely, his voice soft and genuine. It feels like forever since someone has been so sweet to you.

Your hand reaches to scratch the back of your neck, a weak curve on your lips, “It’s been a pretty hectic twenty-four hours.”

Akaashi leans on his desk, cheek pressed against his palm and he’s asking, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Your lips fall into a small pout because he’s just so sincere. He’s always been. Maybe that was why you had just the teeniest of crush on him earlier in the semester because he remembered the small details. When he noticed you switched from coffee to tea, you ranted to him for five minutes about how your boyfriend was adamant on you changing your lifestyle by switching to healthier options. The next class time you had together, Akaashi brought you coffee because as long as your boyfriend didn’t know then it was alright.

“Are you sure you want to listen to me?” You quirk a brow at him, “Because I’ll talk for the rest of the time.”

Akaashi sits up straight, flipping his notebook, pen ready in hand, “I must have forgotten to list listening as one of my strengths.” Your face burns all of a sudden, he has the smallest smirk on his face when he turns back to you, “I’ll take notes, tell me what’s wrong.”

You’re not used to someone listening to you, you’re used to someone interrupting you. It felt awkward at first, just letting everything roll off your tongue, and your eyes keep darting to the way his pen moves against his notebook. Was he actually taking notes of your rant? When you finish, he’s smiling, there’s a warmth to his grin that has you internally groaning.

“What did you write down?” You’re leaning over now, trying to get a good look at his notebook and you don’t even notice that the embarrassment in you has lifted. You’re no longer plagued with awkwardness like you were an hour ago.

Akaashi tilts his notebook for you to clearly see his handwriting. A wide smile taking over your expression. She’s cute when she’s talking. He was indeed more straightforward than you had imagined, you pictured him as shy and cute, while he was definitely the latter, he came off boldly.

“If I have to be honest.” He states suddenly, “My friend threw together that application and then sent it to you and then messaged you.” Your expression falters but he’s adverting his eyes just slightly, “I was too shy to try and message to ask if you were alright and well, my friend tends to get a little out of hand.” He’s grinning once more, rubbing the back of his neck, “I guess it sort of worked out in the end.”

The professor’s voice draws your attention, “Once you’re done discussing with your partner, you’re free to leave.”

You look at the time, sparing a glance to Akaashi, “I’m sorry, I have to get to my next class.” You’re shoving your stuff into your backpack and he also quickly packs up.

“I’ll walk you.” He’s so eager that he almost knocks over his coffee cup, “I mean if it’s alright with you?”

“Sure, my next class is.”

Akaashi interjects, “Intro to Business, across campus.”

You’re surprised he remembers, a little impressed that it feels like he’s leading the way to your next class. For a moment it’s silent, you can tell he’s a little nervous but heck you’re also very nervous.

“You said two other guys sent you an application?”

Slowly you nod, “I mean one’s definitely a no, he’s just so cocky, definitely not my type. The other?” You think for a moment, “He’s really nice, funny, and we’ve kind of built up a friendship over the semester.” You notice how silent Akaashi has suddenly fallen.

“So.” Akaashi is quiet, “Then you would say that I’m up against him?” The two of you have stopped in front of your class, Akaashi staring down at you; the look in his eyes suddenly changes. He was getting competitive, “I’ll make sure to win you over.”

Your cheeks dust with a blush. He’s suddenly digging in his bag; he pulls out a baseball style cap. His hand tugging back your hood, undoing your sloppy bun to let your hair fall down. Your heart races at the way he sneaks in a stroke through your hair before fitting the cap onto your head. It’s loosely hanging until he leans into you, he smells of a deep forest and you’re tempted to just wrap your fingers on his t-shirt and pull him in a little bit more.

“You’ll probably be more comfortable with a hat than a hood.” He pulls away once he’s fixed the strap but his scent lingers momentarily, “You should get to class.” He states sweetly, taking in the cute way you’re trying to hide your face with his hat.

“I’ll message you.” You say as you slowly hang around the doorway to your class, “To return the hat.” And possibly more. You think.

The moment you turn away, a blushing grin on you with your heart beating rapidly; everything stops when you come face to face with Kuroo Tetsuro. He’s got a cheeky look on him, slightly eyeing the man still lingering outside of the classroom. The two men meet gazes and there’s a sharp sting between the two; an acknowledgement of an opponent.

[littlefreya]

Good Girl

gif credit amancanfly

Synopsis: Henry is at the gym testing the new Glute Drive while his longing wife drops by to visit and decides to play a little wicked game of teasing. 

Pairing: Henry Cavill x OFC

Word count: 4.2K

Warnings: Explicit, this is basically ALL smut. Slight SubMale / DomFem then a lot of DomMale / SubFem, dry humping, cock teasing, dangerous driving, fingering, dirty talk, daddy kink, slight size kink (I am all the kinks today), unprotected sex and bodily fluids!

A/N: Okay so this fic was born out of the UNHOLY union between this thread and the video of Henry going “good boy” at Kal. Many thanks to my darling @agniavateira​ for helping me proofread this!

Title: Good Girl

There he is, my bear of a man. His sculpted, wide body plastered to some medieval-looking torture device. Strong, large arms hang onto the handles, muscles flexing. Slick with sweet sweat, he thrusts his hips up and down while grunting with effort.

Who the hell came up with this air-fucking machine?

I walk through the deserted mirrored room, my black painted nails scratching the glass as I draw closer toward Henry. Gyms tend to be freezing, and I’m not properly dressed for a workout session with my mini plaid skirt and a dark grey t-shirt. But his arduous gasps fill the chilled space enough to make things a little warmer. 

“What are you doing here, little one?” Henry finally asks, pausing his thrusts for a moment as he spots my cattish moves toward him.

I observe silently as I inch closer. he has his waist strapped to a bench, heavy weights of 80kg are on each side of his body while he lifts upward and presses his behind back down. A sheer layer of sweat covers him entirely, his skin glistening in the fluorescent’s light. His favourite blue top is soaked.

“I came home from the studio and my hubby wasn’t there.” I pout, standing right at the edge of the bench where his feet are pressed for support.

He pouts back at me, genuine care on his face. My darling bear might have the endurance of a large predator, but his heart is all strawberry marshmallow when it comes to his lady. He hates to spend time apart. Whenever our schedules collide it’s all about Face-timing and sending nudes. 

Honestly? I care less than he does about this shit ever getting leaked. I even keep some steamy under-the-cover selfies so I’ll have something to work with when either of us is away.

But what I hate the most, is having him here yet he’s absent. The Pre-production shenanigans have him preparing for his next role, which usually means working himself at the gym to the point of collapsing, just so he could look like some demi-god. Honestly, I wouldn’t mind him having a little body fat. That’s why I bake him pizza every weekend. What his gym coach doesn’t know, can’t hurt him.  

“I’ll be done in 10 minutes, darling.” he answers and continues to slowly push down and up again, releasing a pained grunt and clenching his teeth. “Just…  two… more… sets.”

“I don’t want to wait.” I alert him, circling the machine carefully to not get in his way. I appreciate the hard work and stamina, but I am quite tired of having the downside of the deal. Every day for the last 2 weeks I received an exhausted Cavill with aching, strained muscles. The most action I got was massaging his muscles in the bathtub which might sound romantic if not for him snoring 3 minutes in.   

“Ten minutes,” he mentions again. He’s out of breath as he ascends and then lowers once more, the weights pressuring his body down while the bands create a resistance. 

No way in hell someone came up with this device and didn’t think this is a sex thing. I see my bear thrusting his hips upward like this and only one thing goes through my mind. 

Oh, how I need to be on top of this mountain of a man.

I cannot help myself, nor can I hide the malicious grin forming on my mouth. I lift my leg carefully, hovering it in the air above him. I cage him between my straddled legs whilst giving him my best dominatrix glare. Henry raises his eyes to meet mine, looking dumbfounded. 

“What are you doing, darling? You’ll hurt yourself.”

Oh, sweet summer child. 

I sway my hips in a slow dance, with the thrust of his body and his heavy breaths as the music I’m dancing to. The arousal in his eyes is evident within seconds. His lips part away slowly, his beautiful blue eyes begin to cloud, and his adam’s apple slides upward in his throat as he swallows.

“At home.”

“Here.” I ignore his request lowering myself slowly and carefully to squat over his groin. He’s not hard, yet.

Henry releases a deep loud grunt. Usually, I am weightless for him, but right now I’m adding to already 160kg of weights. Well, he is the type of guy who likes to push his limits and I am the type of girl who likes to test boundaries. 

“Don’t,” Henry protests, another grunt escaping his lips. I stretch myself, my ass pressing back, my groin rubbing against the tender muscle that begins hardening between my legs. I can feel the rush of blood, making him throb and grow vast between my legs.

“Don’t do what?” I press my teeth against the lushness of my lower lip viciously, beginning to grind against the hardness in slow circular motions. “Don’t you have two more sets?”

He clenches his teeth, his hands tightening around the handles so harshly his knuckles whiten. With great effort he lifts up, succumbing to my wickedness. His erected cock is concealed underneath his clothes, yet I press and dance onto it, making blissful moans as the friction has me singing that sweet familiar tune.

When he pulls down I dive with him, feeling the exhale of his body and the dancing twitch of muscles. I greatly anticipate the next push upward, my hands reaching to squeeze my breasts together. My panties are now soaked with moisture as I press and rub, bringing myself closer.

When he lifts again, his thrust is a wee bit faster. He’s either getting used to my weight on his groin, or the adrenaline of the beast that I’ve been teasing allows him to push higher. He angles his hips into mine, serving my need, and gives me the friction I demand. His eyes meet mine and pure darkness devours me within them. 

I am in so much fucking trouble, but it’s so worth it. 

“Oh Henry, you’re making me so wet.” 

I moan his name, rubbing myself on his cock at a demanding speed while he lifts up and down. My clit tingles, swollen against his enormous bulge as that familiar wave begins to spread. He’s so hard, so painfully swollen, and so incapable of getting any release while I ride him into a powerful orgasm.

I clutch his thighs, desperate gasps spiralling out my mouth as the pleasure continues to hit my core. My nails dig deep into the hardened flesh but I can’t be bothered.

“Oh god…” I throw my head backwards, trying to adjust my breath while my legs are shaking around his wide waist. There’s still a throbbing hardness against my burning core, the angry drumming of blood pulsating against my opening. 

I’m tempted to take my phone and capture his looks in my camera. But I’m in too much trouble as it is. Henry is drenched in sweat, upset in ways I’ve never seen in my life. He's done with his workout for today,  no doubt about that.

“Are you done?” he asks me with a frown. 

I lick my lips and lift myself up, knees nearly giving up as my legs are still numb from the intensity of pleasure. I let out a provoking giggle, putting my finger between my teeth, knowing he likes that gesture. This is my favourite battle, control. He enjoys superiority with his physical power, but every now and then I sweep the rug beneath his feet. And though he loves it when I am his good girl, sprawling and letting him take what he wants, when I am bad, the beast is willing to split my ass in half.

Guess I won this round. 

Henry unbuckles the harness from his waist as I step back. He takes the towel from the bench and wipes his face. My eyes fixate on the still hard swelling in his nether area. I could offer to take care of it for him, but I am not feeling this generous right now. Better keep his stamina for home, so I can actually get me a proper shag in a nice, clean bed with a nice, clean husband that doesn’t smell like an entire rugby team.

“Go wait in the reception.” he demands, his tone anything but sweet right now. 

“Don’t take too long.” I demand in return as I turn around, flipping back my hair and letting it slide down my ass. I can hear his frustrated groan behind me, just before I leave the room. It makes me lose myself in a burst of chuckles. 

~*~

Henry meets me downstairs, a serious expression on his face. His gaze doesn’t meet mine, letting me know that unlike myself, he is vastly unamused. He takes my wrist in his big hand and leads me outside while smiling to bid bored receptionist goodbye. 

I am forced to follow his large strides. Being a tall man, every step of his is equal to three small ones of mine. Even though it seems like his “problem” subsided, he’s not exactly interested in waiting.

He’d always be tender in his behaviour towards me, a respectful gentleman who knows how to treat women. Sure, he can rearrange a guy’s skull, but he never raised his voice at me. He’d take a walk outside the house and then return to so we can have a talk like adults. 

But this is not a fight. This is but our favourite little war. Ongoing from the day we met.

I notice that we are not going to the car. Instead, he leads me to a narrow, dark space between two buildings. I can smell the damp sidewalk, the scent of earlier rain filling my nose. This spot is anything but romantic or erotic, with street cats screeching at the back and the sounds of trash cans being hit as they bounce on top of the lids.

Finally, he towers above me. His hand lets go of mine and hold it open in front of me with a demanding look in his eyes.

“Take off your panties.” 

I let out a bemused laugh, dry and short as I am uncertain of his odd demand. But he holds out his hand at the stern request, motioning for me to do as I’m told. 

“Here?!” I ask, looking around to see if there is anyone who might be a voyeur on our little engagement. The last thing I need is our agents scolding us again for photos of us being inappropriate in public places. Gretchen swears we make these mess on purpose. We kinda do, because we can’t keep away from one another.

“You want another one of your fancy pairs turned into rubbish?” he threatens.

I comply, breathing out like a brat and leaning down to take off my underwear for him. I place it in his hand and move back against the wall, anticipating his next move. I guess “Cavill and wife caught doing cardio after the gym!” could be a funny headline, better than the one at the hotel at the Academy Awards.

Henry folds the small material in his hand, holding it in his fist as if it’s something he can actually squeeze, before shoving it into his pocket. He grabs something else in exchange. I hear the chink of his car keys, dangling between his fingers as he offers them to me.

“You drive.”

There are no explanations, nor can I make anything of his behaviour. My man is willed with the control of his emotions. To outburst is to be weak, I am keen on that, my own terrible flaw. It only pisses me off more to see him keeping himself so relaxed while I am always the one who sees fire. 

I follow his order, walking after him silently as he leads me to where he parked the car. Having no underwear beneath my short skirt is anything but convenient right now, especially when I have to enter the vehicle and crouch down. 

I try fixing my skirt to cover myself, feeling the leather of the seat beneath my ass and other regions while Henry begins messing with the music player. I can see the small smirk at the corner of his lip, it’s evident that he’s having himself a good time knowing how uncomfortable I am at this very moment.

I roll my eyes at him and try closing my knees together as much as I can while stepping my foot on the gas.

He puts on Queens of the Stone Age and takes the passenger seat back, remembering he needs more legroom than I usually require. His head turns to face me, his lips sucked into his mouth in a cunning gesture.

“Had yourself a good time?” 

His hand reaches toward my knee, grazing at the bone with featherlike movements. It tickles, I am forced to move my knee from him involuntarily, but he keeps it in place, resting his entire large hand on my kneecap.

“I’m driving…” I warn him, keeping my hands on the wheel and my eyes on the road.  

I can tell he is smirking wickedly, his eyes staring at the road ahead of us carefully and then back at me. His fingers make their way up my thigh, snakelike on my bare skin. His palm is large and warm, pressing onto my inner thigh while his thumb draws invisible circles on my skin.

“Henry…” I warn again, feeling cool air blowing against my lips as he forces my legs to part wider for him. “You’ll get us killed!”

“Then focus on the road.” he commands, licking his lips. His fingers meet my wetness in a touch so tender it’s almost a phantasm, yet still there, undoubtedly making me swallow a sigh and squirm slightly in my seat. It’s as if he is testing the water first, a slight brush before plunging in and damn if he doesn’t push into me with his fingers, pressing three of his large digits to massage my heat. 

“Fuck!” 

I am fighting to keep my eyes open, my hands clutching at the steering wheel while my left foot kicks at the floor. 

“Maybe we should stop.” I suggest, nearly pleading. 

“Keep driving, we’re almost home.” he answers, sounding relaxed. The amused grin has vanished from his face, replaced with the severeness of pride and triumph.

He strokes my cunt between his fingers in a tight grip, his fingers running up and down, playing with my wetness, smearing it across his hand before plunging two of his knuckles inside me as we stop at a red light. I am very much aware that other drivers might see us, so does he, but he seems to care very little if anyone spots him pleasing his wife. 

“Aww…” he mocks me, hearing the helpless cry that pushes out of my throat. “You shouldn’t have been such a bad little girl.” he teases some more, his fingers now plunging in and out with excitement. I allow myself to grind at the surface of his palm to achieve more friction at the base of my clit so maybe we can finish this quickly before the light is green.

But he’s the one in charge of my satisfaction now. He holds his hand further, so I will have none of it and keeps the stimulation only at the rim of my cunt, his fingers circling my entrance. 

“Too bad you had to tease me like that.” he murmurs in his low voice, his fingers slowly withdrawing and only his thumb grants my clit with a small tender brush.

 “Now you’ll have to wait, and be a good girl for daddy.”     

I let out another cry, arching toward the wheel and biting on my lips. It's not out of pleasure, but out of torturous frustration as he withdraws completely. I give him a quick, infuriated stare, seeing how he sucks his fingers victoriously, enjoying every single drop of his sweet win.

Feeling slick between my thighs, I press slightly harder on the gas pedal, trying to get us home faster. Henry pumps the volume of the music player higher.

Watch you come from above

I'm so needy for love, I'm desperate,

Greedy in slavery I sneak around from behind I got a one track mind We got a skin on skin thing baby I want to lick you too much I hear you comin ooh aaaah baby 

~*~

The moment we enter the house I lock the door and try to make my move but he has his hand on my throat in less than a second, squeezing not too tight, but tight enough to make a point. His blue eyes scan my face, his soft tongue slithering across the freckle of his lower lip with arousal. 

“Get on your knees, little one. You’re not off the hook yet.” 

I gasp at his fierceness, weak against his charisma and beauty. I stroke his face, still sticky with sweat from earlier, my fingers are gently smoothing against the stubbles on his high cheekbones and at the dimple of his chin. 

“Please, daddy, just fuck me already,” I bargain. 

“I’m wet and ready for you.”

“On your knees.” he repeats himself, his lips twitching to a small grin as he sees my defeat. His hand slightly releases my neck, his fingers pet my chin and jaw and finally entangle in my hair as I fall to my knees slowly, levelling myself at the height of his groin. His hand strokes my head lovingly, pressing my chin against his growing arousal as I look up to him with fake innocence.  

“Are you gonna be good now?” he asks, his fingers twirling around my long hair lovingly. 

“Yes, daddy.” I nod, waiting to have his cock in me, in any part of me. I want to touch myself so badly, my pussy throbs with desperate eagerness to be stuffed by his huge cock. . 

“I want to see you crawl on fours and wait for me in the living room, babygirl.” he growls at me while discarding his blue top on the wooden floor, exposing his thick hairy chest. 

“I want to look at your cunt as you move for me before I’ll destroy it. You’ve been such a nasty girl today.” 

I shiver at his words, a shrill of air kicks out of my lungs at once. My toughness is down to non-existing. I let him have it, I let him have it all. I crawl on my knees and palms like a cat in heat, my ass exposed for him. My cunt drips with primal desire to be conquered by this menacing alpha. I stop for a moment and then look behind me. I see him kicking off his shoes, his sweats slipping down his thick thighs along with his briefs before he continues to follow me, holding his erection in his hand, massaging the base of his cock while looking at me to open wide for him.

I reach the furry white IKEA carpet in our living room and wait for him, still on all fours. His heavy footsteps make the wood creak beneath his weight which alerts me that he’s close. The heat of his body is near. I feel the aura of his body as he falls down to his knees carefully behind me. 

His hands smooth against the curve of my ass, appreciating my shape to the point of worshipping my flesh. He takes the time to study again what he knows better than I do, trailing up to lift my skirt until it’s hiked around my belly. He then pushes my shirt, prompting me to take it off. Not an easy task to perform on all four limbs.

For one lingering moment, his hands roam across my body, massaging my muscles, pinching my nipples between his fingers. I moan beneath his large hands as he coaxes me into being his little plaything, succumbing to his will. Possessive fingers grip my shoulder and in a sudden movement, I’m pressed with my back down while Henry pushes my legs apart with his knees. 

“I just love to look at your face when I fuck you, babygirl.” he explains, his hands pulling my legs violently against his hips to position me as he desires. That way, we can both enjoy the show of his cock slipping in and out of my slit.

I squirm beneath him, my hands reaching for his chest to stroke at the thick dark hair and hardened pecs. “Please, fuck me.” I beg to the point of whining as I look at his sturdy cock, admiring every vein and ridge that decorates his impressive size. Henry takes himself and begins to tease my entrance, making teasing groaning voices while I plea so weakly. 

But that’s only to prepare me for his brutal invasion. He lets out a loud husky shout as he pushes in, penetrating me with such vulgarness, it takes the air out of my lungs. I am split in half, feeling how my body stretches immediately to bind itself to him. 

My narrow slit tries to remain resilient while Henry keeps himself nested between my lush folds, a groan of pure pleasure vibrates through his glorious chest before he takes my jaw in his great hand and makes me look at him to see the sin in his eyes.

“Good girl…”  he calls out in his deep low voice, pulling himself out slowly and then slamming back inside me in with a slippery wet slap. I gasp, my entire body shuddering in his veiny arms. 

“Good girl.” He speaks again, letting the words roll and linger on his tongue.

His rhythm is somewhere between torturous to divine. When he pulls away he does it ever so slowly, watching with perverse fascination his own cock as it slides out my narrow entrance just before he slams back in. Henry promised that he will destroy me; he never breaks a promise. I already feel how my muscles are thrown into a paradox, trying to resist him yet have him deeper and deeper with each one of his amazing thrusts.  

“Look at how you take me,” he calls in a guttural voice, urging me to look at our union. “You have such a tight succulent cunt, baby.” 

It feels almost too sinful to stare, my entire existence shivers at the sight. His big beautiful cock enters me, slick with my juices as he increases the pace. I’m petite but with him inside I’m forced to expand, my body stealing his shape, embracing him with devotion, wanting him to be like this forever.

His wide thighs are placed right beneath my legs, his right hand silks its way down my hip and grips me roughly as he pounds me in increasing speed. With one hand still on my jaw, he presses his fingers to my mouth where I suck and bite at him. He always wants me to look at him, loves it when I’m hopeless beneath him when my mouth cries for him while he stuffs me with his cock, over and over again. 

I squirm to meet his pelvis. He fucks me so raw that no actual words come out of my mouth but the mewls of a small, helpless animal instead. Being hunted for sport rather than eating. I grind my clit against his pubic bone to elicit more delightful friction, getting me closer and closer. But I’m stealing control and he’ll have none of that right now. 

He shoves us down, pinning my hands against each side of my head while his groin is holding me down to the surface in complete captivity. I am hurting for a mere moment as he shoves too forcefully. His apology is a deep passionate kiss which he is forced to break as we both gasp for air with every merciless push of his loins into mine. 

“Fuck babygirl!” He leans his forehead against mine, a feral gaze in his eyes. I lock my legs around his waist, my body losing every grip it ever had on control as the warmth begins to throb at the base of my cunt, spreading from my womb towards every nerve until I feel nothing but love flowing through my body.

I pant in awe, my voice adding to his deep growls and husky gasps which only become louder as his orgasm looms closer with the tightness of my cunt around his swelling cock. It sucks him harder, demanding his release, milking him of his offering until he shudders through me and yells out my name. 

The gush of warmth that spills inside me is my second favorite thing in the world. I moan with sweet delight as his cream coats me inside.

“I love you so much.” he whispers, holding me in his protective embrace as if to apologize for fucking me so hard.

I’d imagine that after such a long time together he’d already figure it out that I’m the one provoking it.

“What’s the name of that device again?.. the one I was…”

“Glute drive.”

“Glute drive, yeah, we’ll do that again soon…” I suggest, nibbling at his ear playfully while he remains on top of me.

~*~

Song lyrics are by Queens of the Stone Age - Skin on Skin

[anarcoqueer1994]

No More Dates

It was the summer of 1933, and Steve had just turned 15 years old. He is sitting in his kitchen with his ma, as she cooks. He's doodling on a scrap of paper when behind him he hears the door open; Bucky. Sarah never minded the brunette busting in without knocking. She sees him like another one of her kids and loves that her son has such a good friend. 

Steve hears Bucky walk up behind him, feeling Bucky's strong arm wrap around his shoulder. Steve has to focus on not blushing. Ever since his friend has started down at the docks, his already handsome body has taken on harder lines and muscles. It was not helping Steve’s massive crush on him one bit.

 He is broken out of his thoughts when the other boy starts to speak. "Good evening, Mrs. Rogers." He smiles at the blond woman at the stove. She smiles back and waves slightly.

He turns his attention to Steve. "Hey, Stevie. What'cha drawing?" Bucky looks down at the paper which Steve tries to hide. He isn't quick enough. Bucky sees. "This is good." Buck beams at the hastily sketched lips on the page. Luckily for Steve, he doesn't realize those are his lips.

"Uh, thanks Buck." Steve flashes a little smile back before turning the paper over, giving his full attention to the older boy.

"So listen Stevie, want to go out with me tonight?" Steve's  hands suddenly get sweaty. What does Bucky mean, out tonight? With him, like a date. They can't do this, two guys. Bucky sees Steve’s panic stricken face. He asks "What's  wrong? Please tell me you don’t have a shift at Mr. Green's do you?" Mr. Green owned a grocery store where Steve would bag at, one of the only places that would hire him. Bucky continues. "Please say you don't, I got us two pretty dames looking for a good time."

Oh. Steve thinks. Of course Bucky wasn’t talking about going out with him. Why would he? He got them a double date. He doesn't particularly want to go. Over the last few months, Bucky has gotten them all these double dates. But they all end up the same. Whatever poor girl who is his date, politely conducts herself but she always is more enthralled with Bucky. Oftentimes the girl only says yes to a date with him so her friend could get a date with the other man, since Bucky has made it clear that he won't go out with anyone if Steve can’t come.

But Steve would watch as the girls would whisper between themselves, teenage girls tending to not be discrete. He would see them giggle and bat their eyes at his friend, when the most he would get is an obligatory smile. He can't blame them though, he wasn’t much to look at, not like Bucky.  Steve swore Bucky was the picture  perfect man. To be honest, he catches himself staring at his friend too, jealousy  often washing over him when he would see Bucky's  hand wrapped around a girl's waist, pulling her close. He wishes Bucky could hold him like that; wanted to hold him like that back.

"No, I worked this morning. But Buck...you didn't need to get me a date. You go on and have fun. Plus I promised Ma I would help clean the oven tonight." He lies lamely.

Bucky frowns but nods his head. "Alright, Stevie…" He sounds disappointed.

Sarah, hearing the lie, shakes her head, careful not to embarrass her son while still not letting him off the hook. "It's alright, Steve. I got the oven. Just go have fun, tonight." Sarah doesn’t want her boy sitting at home. She knows that her son is a little...funny. And she knows she will always love her son no matter who he loves. But their church and society could be mean. She didn’t  want her Steve facing that. She hopes that with these dates he can find a nice girl. 

Bucky's face lights up.  "Perfect! Thanks Mrs. Rogers!" He smiles at Steve and heads to the door. 'Be ready in an hour, okay?"

"Sure Buck…" Steve says unenthusiastically as the older boy leaves. He sighs before putting his head down in his arm on the table. 

"Steve…" Sarah says softly. "It'll be fun. Maybe the girl will be nice."

Steve picks his head up slightly to look at his mom. "Ma, it always is the same. The poor girl who gets stuck with me has no interest. And why should she? Look at me."

She puts a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Baby, you're very handsome and any one would be lucky to be "stuck with you."

"You have to say that, you are my mom. I look like those yappy dogs with the big head and tiny body. I am nobody's type." He mopes.

"Steven Grant Rogers, you stop that right now. You are going on this date tonight and you are going to have fun." She says sternly.

Steve knows there is not a use in arguing with her so he just nods and resides himself to his fate.

~

Sarah had pulled out Steve's dad's  

old grey suit, insisting on dressing the boy well for his date. He felt ridiculous, everything slightly too big. He should be used to that, all of his clothes fit like that. He wore the jacket unbuttoned hoping it would be less obvious about how too big it was. His mother let him use some of the little colgne she had, stored away from her late husband. She said he was perfect.  He knew otherwise.

He meets Bucky at the bottom of the steps of his tenement. Bucky, of course, looks flawless, hair slicked back, effortless handsome, with button down shirt rolled to his elbows. Steve thinks he is the most beautiful man he has ever seen. And then Bucky smiles. A smile Steve cherishes as it is just for him.

"Hey Stevie" he throws his arm around his shoulder, pulling him into a half hug. "You look great!" 

Steve blushes. "You're lying but thanks, so do you, pal."

Bucky wants to argue. He wants to tell him he's wrong because Steve always looked great, always looked perfect to him but knows Steve won't  back down. So, he just smiles sadly at his best friend. "What are we going to do with you, man?" He asks as they start walking.

Once they get their dates, they head to a dance hall. Bucky's date is a pretty blond girl with bright blue eyes, Margaret, and Steve's is a redhead with green eyes named Dora. Steve is polite and is surprisingly light on his feet. Dora looks like she is having a good enough time as Steve tries his best to small talk with her and enjoy this date.

But it's hard because it is obvious that they both want someone else. As they danced, Steve would watch out of the corner of his eye as Bucky would twirl and dip his date, then pull her oh so close. There felt like there was something pushing down on his chest, making it hard to breathe. He hated himself for hating that Bucky was holding someone else. 

He tried his best to put on a happy face for his date, who had been nothing but sweet. But he noticed that she too was making eyes at someone else, a guy across the room right that she seemed to know, as he looked back equally as sweetly. Steve knew how it felt to want someone else, but unlike him, she had a chance.

He pulls her over to the table mid dance. "What is it?" She says softly. 

"You're a very nice girl, Dora. You have been incredibly kind and I have had a good time. But I'm not the one you want to be here with, am I?" Steve asks nicely, careful not to sound accusatory.

She looks down before saying "Am I that obvious? 

He laughs, showing her he is not mad. "Yea. Also... it looks like he wants to be with you as much as you want to be with him. So go and dance with him, have fun."  Steve replies lightly.

She gives him a pretty smile before surprising him with a hug, which he returns. She whispers "Thank you Steve." She holds him there a little longer before whispering  one more thing. "I know I'm not the only one of us sweet on someone else and for the record, I think he is sweet on you too." What Steve didn’t realize was that between his glances at Bucky, Bucky glanced back, an evening of missed gazes.

She pulls away and waves, without another word making her way to the other man. Steve is left dumbfounded, and terrified, and excited all at once. 

Most importantly he knows he has to get out of there, a feeling a dread that he gave himself away as a fairy. He knows she won't tell anyone other than maybe her friend...but what if others do find out. Suddenly it is hard to breathe, as he rushes out the door. 

~~

He ends up on the fire escape outside Bucky's room. The lights are out in the Barnes' residence,indicating that the family was asleep. He comes here a lot when he wants to escape. He guesses he is not that great at escaping since he always ends up at the same place. He sits with his arms wrapped around his knees, eyes shut.

What did she mean he was sweet on me too? How can she know that? How could, Bucky, the boy who has been chasing skirt like it was going out of style the last few months, be into him? They were just best friends, and he was just a hopeless fool who wanted to much. What if Bucky turned on him when he found out that Steve liked other fellas...liked him.

The last thought made him shiver, made him sick to his stomach, losing the one man that means more than him than the entire universe. A tear rolls down his face, before closing his eyes again. He is so focused on his thoughts, he doesn’t hear the window open behind him and someone step out. It isn't until he feels an arm wrap around his shoulder and pull him close that he realizes he isn't alone.

Bucky's voice is gentle as he whispers "Why'd you leave, Stevie?"

Steve’s  breath hitches in his throat as he feels Bucky's strong arm holding him there. He forces himself to talk "I...i just wasn't having a good time, I just wanted to leave…thats all."

Bucky's voice gains a level of worry as he replies "You wouldn’t be sitting here if that was all. Please tell me what's wrong...I would of left with you, Steve. When I noticed you were gone, I left immediately and searched everywhere for you. Your ma said you didn’t come home, so I knew you would be here. Why didn’t  you get me?"

Hearing the worry and sadness coat Bucky's  voice makes Steve feel terrible, unable to look up at him as he answers "Because, Buck, I left because of you…" another silent tear falls. 

"What..." Bucky sound confused, voice broken as he instinctively pulls away from Steve, scared whatever he did, he is making worse. "What did I do?"

Steve lets put an unamused laugh, silent tears falling more freely now as he looks at Bucky, who's  face is distorted with guilt and confusion. Steve just wants to reach up and smooth out his features back to the beautiful care free ones that typically live on his face. "You...didn't do anything, I did. I'm whats wrong here, Buck."

Bucky is torn between wanting to pull Steve into a hug and never let go and not wanting to scare away his friend by touching him, so he fidgets with his hands in his lap. "Steve that's impossible...you couldn't have done anything wrong." He sounds sincere, like he thinks Steve is perfect.

"You---" a strangle sob manages to escape. "You think to highly of me. I don't deserve it. Buck, remember when we were in school, and the other boys would call me a fairy because we spent so much time together….and I look like this?" Steve feels bad, Bucky would always stand up for him, the other boys always backing down. They never backed down when Steve would stand up for himself, often getting his ass kicked.

"Yea, those guys are idiots, still are. I work with some of them down at the dock." Bucky says plainly.

"No...they aren't, because they were right." Steve sound sad.

"What?" Bucky says again, confused more than ever.

"I'm a fairy...a pansy….I like fellas like you are supposed to like dames, Buck. And I'm so sorry….so so sorry. I'm so afraid of anyone finding out. It'll break ma's heart….everyone at church will hate me...God hates me….everyone will hate me. I'm disgusting…" Steve is shaking now, sobs freely escaping between words. He hadn't meant to say all this but it slipped out.

Bucky, unable to not do anything, throws his arms around Steve, pulling his head to his chest, gently petting his hair. "Shhh...shhh….its okay Stevie, s'okay." He repeats for awhile before whispering "If you're disgusting,  I'm disgusting." Steve gets really still in his arms, before tilting his head up to look at Bucky. "What?"

"I said, I'm "disgusting" too. I...uh like ladies, I do. I just like fellas too...especially...one fella in particular." He answers shyly.

Steve’s heart feels like it is on a roller coaster. In the same breath that he found out Bucky was also a queer...he finds out Bucky has eyes for a guy already.  Jealousy wells up inside of him, this somehow hurting more than a dame. Being a glutton for punishment, Steve asks "Who?"

Bucky laughs, arms still around his oblivious friend. "You, punk."

Steve’s heart is literally going to beat right out his chest qnd fly away. In disbelief he asks "Then why did you drag me on all those dates?" 

Bucky takes a deep breath, steadying himself. "I thought it was easier this way...hide how I was feeling and get to spend time with you, thought it was a win-win."

Steve clears his throat, pulling away so he can look Bucky in the eyes, Bucky’s arms still resting on his shoulders. "Not...not for me. I...hated seeing you holding other people...that weren't me. Do you know how many times I wished it was me in your arms, slow dancing. Because…I really love you. And I know people say that you can't  know love at 15….but I do….love is whatever I feel when I'm with you and---" 

Before he can finish, Bucky pulls him in for a soft, chaste kiss. Steve practically melts. This is is his first kiss, and its clumsy and sweet and everything he ever wanted.

When they break away, both boys smile like love sick puppies. Bucky smiles "I love you too, Stevie."

Steve smiles back "No more dates?"

"No more dates." Bucky agrees.

[factual-fantasy]

I got 25 asks that took me WAY too long to reply to! :}

I have two top favorite episodes, the cone snail episode and the beluga whales episode.

When it comes to my favorite part of both episodes..?

..Not happy parts...

I have absolutely no idea what you just suggested.

(Referring to this post)

Thank you! That was the intention. :} I was worried that their faces all looked weird..

You want to learn more? Man.. maybe I should post that headcannon draft..

Yeah haha, this blog has taken quite the U-turn hasn’t it? I’m just glad everyone seems okay with it so far. <:} I’m excited for season 5 also! I hope it comes out soon! :D

THANK YOU, I WILL CHERISH THIS LOVE YOU HAVE GIVEN ME FOREVER

Yes and no.

Does he think of his crew as children? Absolutely not. They are all fully grown, intelligent and capable adults, and he darn well treats them like it.

But you bet that if one of them is in danger or is frightened, he’s dropping everything he’s doing and rushing to their aid as if they’re his cub that just wondered out onto the highway.

ME TOO! I always felt like he had this fatherly vibe to him with some professionalism sprinkled on top. Like he’s always looking out for his team because he cares for them and worries about them, but its kind of disguised as him just doing his job as the Captain.

I plan to draw more Protective Barnacles because its my jam, so don’t worry! That side of you will have some more fuel soon XD. And thank you for all the compliments! :}

Daww thank you, it twaz nothin. I’m just glad that people want to see my art.

Well, taking everyone into consideration, the tallest is Captain Barnacles, and the shortest is Tomminow. (This little guy 👇)

The Vegimals aside though? Peso is the shortest. 

(And thank you! I’m glad :})

Honestly? Awful. I feel like absolute garbage, I just hope this will all finally go away soon.

Not really no, and no thanks on the cookies, I shouldn’t eat anything until I get super hungry because everything gives me stomachaches.. But a hug would sure be nice right about now.

I can give you a link to their wiki pages if that’ll help, I’m not really good with my words and you can learn everything you need to know about them there. <:}

Captain Barnacles (The polar bear guy)

Kwazii (The orange pirate cat guy)

Peso (The bby Penguin doktor)

Shellington (Tall Otter boi)

Dashi (Doge girl with skirt)

Professor Inkling (Fancy squik)

Tweak (Green bunny country gal chick)

The Vegimals (Little veggie dudes)

All the Gups (Metal fishes)

The Octopod (Momma metal squik)

Whos the youngest Octonaut? Well, if we’re not including the Vegimals, I’d say its probably Peso. And the oldest is most likely Professor Inkling.

Does anyone have claustrophobia? Yes! Captain Barnacles canonically does. He got trapped in a deep hole in some icy caves as a cub, since then he’s been afraid of tight and closed in spaces. I have extended on that fact and thought of many different scenarios relating to the aftermath of the Octonauts movie, but you know.. still not confident in all this Octonauts stuff so I haven’t posted my headcannons yet. <:/

Novelas translated into English means Soap Opera.

You think so? I feel like that’s not Kwazii’s thing, he’d probably like horror movies and action filled movies. But Peso probably would like them not gonna lie, him and Dashi would probably watch them together.

Well, in my draft post I’ve got two headcannons for her so far.

Tweak likes sleeping in the launch bay for the #1 reason that she can hear the water sloshing around in the bay. Which mimics the sound the water in the swamp used to make when she lived there with her Dad.

Tweak gets bad migraines when she’s sick, so the other Octonauts have to do a lot to accommodate her. Because the beds in the med bay aren’t that soft, she prefers to sleep in her room when she’s sick. But then the usually comforting sounds of the water in the launch bay become pain inducing. So the launch bay is emptied of all its water, the lights are shut off and, unless its an emergency, no one is allowed in the launch bay until she recovers. 

I looked it up, and its true.

KWAZII WAS A GIRL IN THE BOOKS?? THEN WHY IS HE A BOY IN THE SHOW?? WHY DID THEY CHANGE THAT?? WH??? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like this Kwazii more than I would any other version of him, but still, WHY’D THEY CHANGE THAT?? IM GLAD THEY DID BUT WHY??

Hmm.. let me think...

Captain Barnacles most likely doesn’t ever have uninterrupted free time, and even when he does, he probably still prefers to be up in HQ where anyone can find him if they need him. But lets say for the sake of it that he has some free time and he takes it. He’d probably either want to play his accordion, or want to read a book.

I feel like there’s a lot of different things Kwazii likes to do in his spare time, but goofing around in the Gup-B is probably his favorite.

Peso probably likes to do puzzles and play his xylophone.

Dashi probably reads books while listening to music. How she does both of these things at the same time I have no idea.

Tweak probably plays video games.

Professor Inkling and Shellington both probably read books in their free time.

I’m not too sure what the Vegimals would do in their free time though..

Oh yes, indeed it does. 

Before becoming the Captain of the Octonauts, Barnacles had to ask himself,  “Am I really ready to be their leader?” Can he handle managing a team of that size? Can he react to situations fast enough and make the right choices? He thought it through and believed that yes. He was ready.

But he wasn’t. He wasn't prepared for that gut wrenching anxiety when one crew member goes missing. He wasn't prepared for the crippling heat that most everywhere else has compared to his home. He wasn't prepared to become so attached to his crew that the thought of something happening to them keeps him awake for nights in a row. He wasn’t prepared for that overwhelming nausea of missing home and his sister. 

There was a lot he didn’t know. They’d all turn to him when something went wrong and ask if everything's going to be okay. He’d say “don’t worry, its all going to be okay.” but he’s just as unsure as everyone else.

Now don't get me wrong, he’s not this completely hopeless and unexperienced Captain that bit off more than he could chew, no. There’s just somethings he didn’t think about before becoming Captain of the Octonauts.

Now usually he can really keep himself composed almost always. He’s very level headed and very good at thinking his way through things, But sometimes? He just.. needs a break. He usually cant get a break because he’s the Captain and always needs to be alert, so everyone else that sees it usually tries to help.

Some crew members, like the Vegimals and Kwazii, have a habit of following the Captain around when they see that he’s tired to keep an eye on him. Others like Shellington and Dashi tend to give him space and keep things quiet for him. Some crew members, like Peso and Tweak tend to clean up around the place to take some weight off the Captains shoulders, they all help him out in some way.

Professor Inkling will sometimes find an excuse to pull him aside to have some tea with him. They’ll sit and talk for a bit but then he’s back up on his feet and back to work. This poor bear..

..hold on.. was this a drawing suggestion?

Dashi and Tweak would probably hang out in Dashi’s room and goof around. Not sure what they’d do.. maybe read, talk, play games or.. idk pillow fights? I don’t know what girls do on a girls night.

As for everyone else? I also am not sure, I don’t know what all those characters with all their clashing personalities would do on a boys night. Maybe they would all watch a movie? All attempt bake something obnoxious together? They seem like the kind of characters that would do that.

I’ve never been to a girls night or a guys night, so I don't really have much of a base to go off of.. but both groups would probably get together and do something they’d all enjoy. Guys maybe a funny movie, and the girls just talking and reading books? <:D 

For real that’d be hilarious. Imagine if their voices were deep and gruff too but they just make them sound high pitched for fun?

Dude that’d be so funny. Like Kwazii’s up to his shenanigans again blabbering on about some sea monster or what have you, and Tunip out of nowhere just goes,

“Kwazii legit stop, we all know that you’re just talking about some ordinary sea creature that pirates interpreted as a sea monster.“

The whole crew gon be like

If this game existed in their world and they all played it.....

Captain Barnacles would make it through a pacifist run and would be satisfied. He’s some kind of weirdo who doesn’t think of characters as real people and doesn’t obsess over them and cry about them. Overall he thinks the game is pretty neat, but probably not his type of game.

Kwazii would want to test his skills by attempting a genocide, but his heart of gold would get in the way and he wouldn’t be able to complete it. He’d feel terrible for killing goat mom, reset and go hard pacifist next round. Overall he thinks the game is awesome.

Peso would want to talk to every character so they’d all be included in the story. He’d go full pacifist and cry over the story and its characters. Overall 10/10 for him.

Dashi would probably cry over the game a lot and would never attempt a genocide run because the characters are now her family.

Shellington would hate the fighting parts so would delay those bits by walking around and talking to characters over and over again.

Tweak would go through a neutral run because she sometimes accidently kills weaker monsters. Overall she loves the story and its characters, 10/10 would play again.

Professor Inkling would become invested in the story I bet. Complimenting the story arcs for the characters and its creative game play. But I feel like he’d only play it once and probably wouldn’t beat it, but would have fun with it none the less.

Thank you!!!♡♡♡ Man, I never expected such a positive response to switching to Octonauts, I cant believe everyone is so excited about it! I’m so glad you like my Octonauts art, that really makes me feel better and like what I’m drawing is worth while. ɷ◡ɷ

Aww I’m glad! And oh yeah, the animals at the end were always scary. Remember the Boo the spookfish?

Boo was a cute little googly eyed fishy boi who was just so sweet and somft until the creATURE REPORT AND I-

THAT’S MY QUE TO YEET THE COMPUTER

Dawww thank you!! I tried. <:}

[lady-divine-writes]

Good Omens one-shot - “When God Closes a Door, She Opens a Window, But It's Up to You to Find It” (Rated T)

Summary: Crowley goes through unconventional lengths to escape a bad blind date...

... and ends up finding an angel in an unexpected place. (2770 words)

Notes: This is a re-write of an older story, but I think I like this version better. Human au. Fluffy as heck. CW: If you get squicked out by being covered in food trash, proceed with caution.

Read on AO3.

"Bollocks... bollocks... bollocks... bollocks... " Crowley mutters as she paces back and forth, simmering behind her eyeballs with so much anxiety she's about to tear her hair out by the roots. The only plan she can come up with to solve her current dilemma grows hotly in her mind, but she's searching for something - ANYTHING! - to take its place. 

Maybe something along the lines of acting like an adult, womaning up, and admitting this isn’t going to work? Be upfront about it and say it to the man’s face, for Heaven's sake! 'Go on, Crowley!' she thinks. 'Go ahead! One foot in front of the other. Steady on! You can do this!'

But she’s become so tired of the grind – going to bars, faithfully tending her online dating profile, endless blind dates set up by well-meaning friends, the rejecting and the rejections. She can’t face one more. It physically hurts, knots her stomach muscles until the pain turns her world monochromatic.

Crowley had had high hopes for this one, too. Her date Steven is the new doctor of the boy she nannies. He and Crowley have plenty in common – a love of theater and fine dining, and an appreciation for fashion. Crowley thought dating a pediatrician would be fascinating. After summarizing the pertinent details of her own life, perhaps her date would talk about getting through medical school, toss in a few whimsical stories about the joys (quote/unquote) of working with children - baby’s first shots where the parents cried more than the infant, or the tale of a precocious little girl who demanded he put a Band-Aid on her teddy before he helped her (the way Crowley's young charge had with his first doctor when he was around three). They could swap war stories, bond in that way.

But Steven’s favorite part of his profession is pediatric surgery, and, unfortunately, he loves to talk shop. Every morsel of conversation has been inappropriate for dinner and graphic in nature - appendectomy this and tonsillectomy that, abscesses and pus and untreated sores - until Crowley’s face turned as green as her salad and she couldn’t look at her steak anymore.

Neither could their neighbors, who flagged down a passing waiter and requested a new table. They've been sat near the kitchen, which most diners would loathe, but they look heaps happier.

Crowley excused herself as delicately as she could and raced to the loo, needing to escape any more gruesome talk. 

That was over fifteen minutes ago. 

She’s trapped with no way out.

She pictures the layout of the restaurant in her head. There has to be a back way in and out of this place. All restaurants have an exit through the kitchen, right? But the toilet, the kitchen, and the front door are all in full view of their table. Steven is sure to spot her sneaking out no matter how stealthy she is.

Crowley turns on the cold water and splashes her face, scolding herself to think, think, think! She’s an intelligent woman. She can come up with a way out of this. Could she phone someone to come down to the restaurant and make an excuse for her? Not likely, not on short notice. Her friends Anathema and Newt wouldn't be able to find a sitter - ironic, seeing as Crowley is a nanny, and if the tables were turned, she'd be more than willing to lend a hand.

Could she phone her employers, ask Mrs. Dowling to claim an emergency at home? No. She doesn't want to get them tangled up in her personal woes, especially when they concern a man they think of so highly.

She could look up one of those services that make fake calls to your cell phone to get you out of sticky situations, but that would mean going back out there to make the ruse believable. And from the way her hands lock around the lip of the basin every time she thinks about taking a step outside the door, she knows that isn’t happening.

Crowley looks at herself in the mirror, looks into her eyes, and reminds herself to calm down. Slow her breathing. She’ll find a solution. 

And suddenly, there it is. 

In the reflection of the mirror, she sees what might be her only way out.

A window. 

The only window in there, propped open enough that she’d be able to fit through. 

It’s kind of high, sort of narrow, and definitely a last resort. But what other choice does she have?

Loads, in reality. It just doesn't feel like it.

But does she really have to resort to jumping out a window? She’s already been in there for (she checks her watch and her eyes open wide) twenty-five minutes! And her date hasn’t come to check on her once. Maybe the man got the hint and left (hopefully after paying what should be close to a hundred-pound check). 

Crowley tests her luck, opening the door a sliver, praying silently don’t be there, don’t be there, don’t be there...

But there is no God - not one on her side, anyway - because there sits Dr. Steven Malory, talking to the waiter, telling him about another fascinating surgical procedure. He makes an exaggerated cutting motion across his stomach with a butter knife. The poor waiter, weighed down by a tray of soup bowls, nods politely, but looks like he may vomit in the tureen.

She winces. That poor waiter. Who knows how many times he's been called upon to lend an ear since her absence, or how many more times he'll be forced to endure another gory tale before Dr. Malory realizes she's gone. She peeks over her shoulder at the window, then back to the table, where Steven has his phone out, Googling something to the waiter's dismay. She slowly closes the door and backs away.

Window it is.

Crowley shelves the nagging feeling that she's perpetuating the most pathetic trope in the dating world and starts constructing a platform. There’s not much available – a small stepstool underneath the sink; a short, square, plastic rubbish bin that looks less than steady; another taller rubbish bin, dented along one side, looking like someone else already used it to make a break for freedom; and the toilet and basin, both miles away and completely unmovable.

Crowley does some quick engineering in her head and figures that if she turns the small bin over onto the stepstool, she might gain the height she needs to grab the lip of the window and hoist herself up, which would eliminate using the dented bin. She doesn’t like the odds that she won’t slip, fall, and crack her head open. She’s not so much worried about doing any permanent damage, but of having to explain to her date why she’s lying on the floor, covered in trash, and bleeding profusely.

With her luck, he'll giddily insist on stitching up any gashes, drawing a crowd of bystanders around to watch.

Crowley pushes the stool up against the wall with her foot. She dumps the trash from the small bin into its larger counterpart and sets it on the stool, centering it as best she can to keep it from sliding. With a hand on the wall for support, she puts a foot on the bin and attempts to pull herself up. It wobbles back and forth, then gives one backward lurch that nearly sends Crowley flying. 

She determines quickly that this isn’t going to work the way she had planned and makes a desperate leap for the window, using all her upper body strength to get her halfway through.

Crowley shudders when the cold air hits her skin, shocked by the drop in temperature, but mostly from fear of death. She looks down. 

A huge mistake on her part.

A horribly placed streetlamp keeps her from seeing into the alley, but she’s pretty sure she remembers a dumpster underneath this window. She had parked her Bentley in the lot across the way and saw it on the walk in. She looks out into the rows of cars and spots her vehicle. She sighs with relief. 

Now she’s a little more sure, but still not 100%.

Worst case scenario, she lands in food muck, probably not rotten since it’s still actively dinner, and ruins an expensive designer outfit.

Of course, that’s not actually the worst-case scenario, is it? Worst case scenario, she misses the dumpster altogether, hits the pavement, and breaks her leg, but she’s determined to remain optimistic. At this moment, when her anxiety-ridden brain has her convinced that the only logical route out is through this flippin' window, that’s a chance she’s willing to take.

She swings her right leg over, grateful that she chose slacks over a skirt tonight, till she’s straddling the narrow sill, bent in half by the metal lip of the window frame. She balances there, the dull edge digging into her sternum, her belly, and her crotch, but she can’t make herself jump. 

She’ll need to trick herself into it. 

She forces herself to relax, teeter-tottering back and forth, not dwelling on the possible outcome, just trying to work her way to the right far enough that she knocks herself off-kilter.

Fate lends a hand in the form of a drunken passerby yelling, “Oi! Oi, lookie there! There’s a big bird... human... thing hanging out that window!” 

Crowley panics, afraid she's about to be mistaken for someone breaking into a busy restaurant and not out. She fumbles, flails, starts falling head first, scrambles to get a hold. She hears a distant, “No! No, wait!” as her fingers slip. There are three seconds of cold wind and a sinking feeling in her stomach before she lands on her bum, thankfully in the dumpster, surrounded by the smell of not-too-rank food, the squish of something under her body that she thinks might be mashed cauliflower... 

... and a scream.

“Ouch!”

“Oh my God! I’m sorry!” 

Crowley yelps when her body lifts, something extraordinarily strong underneath pushing her up. She reaches around the slippery mess and wet plastic bags, struggling to pull herself off whoever is in the rubbish under her while trying to ignore the gravy seeping into her slacks, or the rice pilaf embedding itself beneath her freshly glossed fingernails. She knows she's broken two at minimum. 

How much worse could this evening get?

“I’m sorry!” Crowley scrambles to her knees, crawls away a few feet. “I’m so, so sorry!” 

“It’s alright, my dear.” A voice underneath her chuckles, its owner emerging from a layer of poached fish and au gratin potatoes.

Crowley turns in time to catch a glimpse as they move into the light. A woman wearing a vintage-inspired emerald gown covered in Hollandaise sauce and ranch dressing smiles sheepishly at her. The white light overhead gives a halo effect to her silvery-blonde hair, and her blue eyes almost glow.

She's quite breathtaking. 

“I thought I had reserved a private dumpster,” she jokes. “I’ll need to have a word with the maître de."

Crowley stares at her, stunned. “I… I don’t understand. What are you doing in here?”

“I suspect I might be here for the same reason as you,” she says, wiping mayonnaise off her hand before offering it to Crowley. “I’m Aziraphale.”

“Crowley. I’m sorry I landed on you.” She takes Aziraphale’s hand, forgetting to wipe hers off before and smushing creamed spinach between them. Crowley groans in embarrassment, but Aziraphale laughs.

“No worries.” Aziraphale doesn't let go immediately the way Crowley thought she would, her smile becoming brighter the longer she holds on. “It’s the most exciting thing that’s happened all evening.”

“So... I take it you’re running away from a bad date, too, huh?” Crowley asks, regretting when Aziraphale finally lets go.

“I'm afraid so.” Aziraphale glances down with a long sigh. “A friend set me up, but I swear, the only men she knows are unemployed, torpid, and skeevy.”

“Wow. That’s some A-plus word usage right there.”

“Yes, well, the written word is my passion."

“Does that mean you're the one who wrecked the silver rubbish bin?"

“Did I?” Aziraphale looks up at the window and grimaces. “I should probably offer to replace that then, shouldn't I? What about you?” Aziraphale turns her soft blue eyes back Crowley's way. “How bad was your date going?”

“I can now perform an appendectomy with my eyes shut.”

“Yikes. I take it that’s not a turn-on for you?”

“Not in the slightest. I appreciate medicine as much as the next gal, but I’d rather not know the gritty details." Crowley stares at Aziraphale until Aziraphale notices, then the two look away, blushing like giggly teenagers flirting in a coffee shop instead of two adults stuck in the trash. Crowley can't help herself. Regardless of the stench of curdled butter and cheese that will probably be with her for life, Aziraphale is a calming presence. And she looks like an angel. An honest-to-God angel! 

And Crowley found her in the trash. 

What are the odds?

“You know, we might want to get out of here before anyone else drops in,” Aziraphale suggests, rising to her feet and lending Crowley a hand.

“Yeah,” Crowley agrees. "Guess that's my night over. Though... " She looks down at her blouse and trousers, positively caked with sweet potatoes, chicken grease, tomato sauce, and chutney "... I’m not looking forward to driving home like this.”

"How far do you have to go?"

"I'm in Mayfair."

"Oh!" Aziraphale gasps. "Isn't that a lovely part of town?"

"I enjoy it," Crowley replies, never having felt quite so proud to live in Mayfair as she does in this moment. "And you?"

"I have a shop in SoHo."

"Lucky. You're just a hop, skip, and a jump, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am... " Aziraphale chews the inside of her cheek as her words hang, balanced in the air between stopping a thought or continuing it. “I hope you don’t think I’m being too forward, but if you come back to my shop, I have a shower. We could clean up there... " Aziraphale sputters when Crowley's eyebrow arcs sharply upward. "S-separately, of course! A-and order in some pie. I know a great spot nearby. I dare say they have the best pie in the world! And they deliver.”

“I don’t have a change of clothes,” Crowley says, wary of taking Aziraphale up on her invitation. Garbage notwithstanding, meeting her has definitely been an improvement to the way things were going. 

"I might have something that would work for you." Aziraphale sizes Crowley up, but not in a creepy way. In a surprisingly nurturing way. "It would be nice to salvage the evening, don't you think?"

"It would." But one disastrous date is plenty for the night. Should Crowley jump straight to another with a woman she met in a dumpster? Then again, it would be wrong for her to assume that spending time with Aziraphale would be disastrous. Plus the story of how they met is way too fantastic to waste on self-doubt.

Crowley took a chance on jumping out a window with only hope to guide her. She’d be stupid not to take a chance on this.

“Sure,” Crowley says, confident with her decision. “Your car or mine?” The words slip out before she considers the fact that she's talking about her baby. A vintage car that she, due to an extreme case of sheer luck, has been the sole owner of. She won't even wear muddy shoes in her car. Or rayon! On top of her own ruined outfit, which will need to be dry cleaned twice and then set on fire, if she lets Aziraphale in her car, she'll have two sloppy, food-stained seats that she’ll need to have scoured. 

Maybe Aziraphale will laugh her off and offer to take her own car. Why would she want to leave it behind, anyway?

“Oh, I didn't drive,” Aziraphale says, looking down sadly at her own destroyed dress. “I took the bus.”

Crowley's heart clenches. There's that decision made. There's no way she's going to suggest Aziraphale take the bus while Crowley drives her car. She just prays that, with time, her baby will forgive her.

“My car it is then.” Crowley loops her arm covered in soup through Aziraphale’s arm covered in whipped cream and leads the way. Aziraphale smiles, holds Crowley's arm a wee bit tighter, and Crowley becomes certain this new development will be worth the money she'll spend detailing her car in the morning.

[sweeethinny]

The Duke - Chapter 10

A.N: OK, let's go Thank you very much to the comments, really, I know it takes time, but I'm glad you're here always waiting for a new chapter for your understanding: everything in *ITALIC* is flashback, it's a chapter basically made up of that, it explains some things it was the chapter i waited the longest to arrive, i liked it in the end, i hope you did too <3 AO3 | FF.NET | SIYE

It was a cold night, it had rained that afternoon and the sky was cloudy, it looked like it would rain later in the morning, but Arabella was happy about that, as the damp, muggy weather made her sneeze every minute and her asthma was actually getting worse. She should visit a doctor soon. She continued to walk down the empty street, the hem of her dress was getting more and more muddy, no matter how much she pulled her skirt up a little, every time she stepped into a puddle the mud splashed and it was no use effort in trying to get that dress clean. She should have picked an older one to go out with, since she knew the streets would be dreadful after all that rain, not the brand new one she'd bought after working so hard. Was it just a piece of sewn fabric, why was it so expensive? There weren't even enough details or buttons to justify it. But if Isabel was telling the truth, the fabric had come from India, and that in itself had already increased the price twice as much, and Arabella knew that the woman would not lie to her… She hoped at least. As she walked the streets of Godric's Hollow, she thought about how another lonely night would be, and that maybe tomorrow she would send a letter to her great-aunt asking if she could stay a few days at her farm, just to have the company of other people besides the two her cats; Silk and Melindra. “Help!” The scream echoed behind her, and Arabella turned, startled, to see if anyone was hurt or what might have triggered that scream. It was a female scream, and it made her think that maybe a woman could be chased by some maniac, and even though she wasn't very strong, two women fought better than just one, so she ran towards the scream, not caring more about the mud splashing on her dress. Near Ms. Bright’s shop, there was a woman lying down and bleeding, her clothes torn and a baby in her lap. She looked scared, dumped near a ditch that had been made a few days ago to start building a fashion studio around the corner, the scant dress that still covered her was smeared with what looked like blood and mud, and Arabella thought she saw blood running down her legs. Whether it was an injury or something more disturbing, she couldn't tell. The woman held the baby tightly to her chest, wrapped in an old blanket as dirty as she was, and the poor child spared no effort in crying, looking more than scared. “I'm here, what happened?” Arabella ran to her, helping the poor girl to her seat, noticing that the poor baby was also smeared with blood, but she couldn't tell whose blood it was. ‘Come, come to my house, I can help you-’ "No," she cried, brown eyes startled and wide, as if they'd seen death a few feet away. “Someone is following me, I – I'm going to be killed, I know I will, my husband is after me and – you need to get the boy.” She lifted the baby towards Arabella. 'He's trying to kill us, he thinks the child isn't his, he thinks I cheated on him, and he's coming, I-' The woman stopped, as if she'd heard something, but then thunder made the Earth shudder. ‘Please save the boy, I beg you, he already tried to kill the boy but I was always on time, but now I feel like I won't be able to save him.’ “You must come with me.” Arabella pleaded once more, kneeling in front of the woman, trying to get her to rise. When she reached for her forearm, however, her hand was wet with blood, and the tear in the side of her dress let her see a hideous cut in her ribs, the blood running like water in a waterfall, dripping onto the floor and other parts of her dress. "I told you," she muttered, sobbing. 'I'm going to die, I'm not going to make it, I can't stand walking any longer, I managed to run away from him but I can't stand it much longer… Take the boy.' The woman lifted the boy again, who now seemed to cry even more, waking a few neighborhood dogs, as the sky glowed brighter, the earth trembling a few seconds later. "Take him away, don't let him die." 'How-how am I going to leave you here, I can't-' Another thunder shook the earth, and this time, the storm began to fall stronger

than the afternoon, the winds suddenly getting strong, which seemed to scare the boy even more. ‘He will get sick! Get him, take care of him!” As if on instinct, Arabella scooped him up in her arms, wrapping him in her scarf so he was a little warmer. Footsteps were heard nearby, and the woman seemed to despair even more. 'Go! Get Harry and go!’ “What's his name?” Arabella yelled over the noise of the rain, trying to understand what she had said. ‘Henry! His name is Henry!’ ---------------------- “Poor Duchess,” someone says, but all Arabella can see is the white flag atop the castle, an immense sadness shattering her chest into a million pieces. "Who could do something that horrible?" Another says, all paying attention to the newspaper that reports how Harry Potter, the Duke's eldest son, was found dead near a creek not far away. Probably killed by Death Eaters. “They're all nasty human beings!” A man said, looking horrified by the media descriptions, then looking up at the castle again. It's not that far away, it faces the mountains that end Godric's Hollow, separating them from another village, and it's positioned in a way that's seen from anywhere, no matter where you are, you'll see the castle and the huge towers, next to the flags that stand proudly on the masts. One with the English flag, the other with the Potter family crest. But today, both give way to white flags. The boy is dead. Arabella wipes the tears from her eyes and watches little Henry sleep in her arms, oblivious to the commotion. She sympathizes with the Duchess's pain as she looks at that little baby who nearly died along with her mother - Arabella knew that the woman's body was found lifeless the next morning - and remembers the time she too felt the pain of losing a child, of losing the one she loved most to Death Eaters. She kisses the boy's forehead, the pale scar of lightning makes him unique, and Arabella lets herself cry, thinking of the Duchess herself, and how they took away her right to fondle her own son. ---------------------- Arabella did not remember seeing the Duke in public since the incident two years ago. He smiles and nods, but she notices - because she's been there once too - that he's sick, that the gold-and-red scarf around his neck seems to have a lot of fabric left over, as well as his pants. She notices the dark circles under his eyes, and the sunken cheeks, but the man still smiles and waves at people. Henry was on her lap, yesterday he turned two, and Arabella doesn't know very well when he was born, but her neighbor, who is a doctor, said he wasn't much older than four or five months, so she decided that his birthday would be the day before they met, because she thought it was too tragic to celebrate the day she found him in his mother's lap half dead, but she didn't want to stray too far from the date. The Duke smiles and nods to a little girl on his father's shoulders, he is walking through the village as he usually does, something that brings him closer to the people who live there and keeps him in power. He's a good man, after his father, the best they've ever had for sure. He stops when he gets close to Arabella, and she smiles because she used to paint the portraits of the royal family until she had a problem with her fist and was forced to quit her profession, but the man never seems to forget the time she drew him on his 17th birthday. "I'm still waiting for you to draw me and my wife." He says, as he always has since she informed him that she had unfortunately been forced to stop. The man isn't charging her though, he smiles, and watches Henry in her lap, almost sleeping on her shoulder. “It's a beautiful boy.” She thought she saw a shadow in his eyes, but it was so fast she thought it was just her imagination. 'How old is he?' "Two years," she says, and now she's sure the man looks sick, because for a second he stops and stares at Henry, as if wondering what his two-year-old son would be like. Arabella knows because she used to do this. "My condolences, my Lord." "It's okay, I’m fine," the

man says, and he winks at Henry, who hides in his mother's neck, before going off to talk to another woman. ---------------------- “Why are we different?” Henry asks, sitting on the table as Arabella tends to his scraped knee. 'We don't have the same eye color, and my hair doesn't match yours.' She knows he doesn't mean to be mean, he's just a curious and very intelligent child, that he's noticed the dissimilarities between them. She smiles, applying ointment to the wound. ‘Because you are my son at heart, and children at heart are sometimes not like their mothers at heart.’ 'What is a child at heart?' He agrees to be picked up by her, and Arabella leads them into their small living room, sitting on the sofa with Henry on her lap, looking at her with big green eyes gleaming with curiosity, black strands falling over his eyelashes. She needs to cut his hair soon. “It means that you were born from another belly, not mine.” She places a hand over her stomach. “But that's just what separates us, because my love for you surpasses any barrier.” Arabella smiles, kissing his cheek, and Henry seems satisfied with the explanation. 'I love you so much too, this size here!' He opens his arms as much as he can, and the demonstration warms her heart as always, making her smile and hug her son as tightly as she assures him that she loves him even more. | J. P | James was concentrating on the duels when Remus arrived. He was marveling at how well Mr. Figg dueled, neither shivering nor losing time when Mr. Rosier hit back one of his spells, and the man didn't even look tired. He had always found dueling an incredibly boring and dull part of parties when he was younger, accompanied by his father and seeing the men fall in a few minutes, James preferred the parties and the after, when the house was silent and dark and he could go out to meet some woman. It was at one of these parties that he met Lily, during a nighttime getaway he saw her jumping out the window. First he followed her thinking that she was also going to meet someone, and James being a curious young man that he was, he wondered what kind of man that woman liked to sneak with. Maybe he had a chance. But later, when he saw her come out of the house and run towards the lake nearby, James didn't understand. She didn't like him following her, of course, it had been a dumb idea and nowadays he was ashamed of his younger self's actions, but that's what got them talking for the first time. She smiled in embarrassment as he praised her ability to climb a vine. "James!" Remus called after him, cheeks flushed and blue eyes pained toward him. The first thing that came to his mind was that Lily was hurt, and that made him lose all interest in watching the Duel and made him turn to his friend in alarm. “What happened?” He tried to be as discreet as possible, trying to keep other men from noticing his splurge. Sirius did a good job of distracting two young men. "Lily needs you…and she asked me to take Mr. Figg too." Remus muttered the last part, making James frown and look at the boy on his left, who had finally won the duel. Rosier looked tired. 'Is it urgent.' "Is she hurt?" It was a valid concern, James feared his wife would get sicker now that she was surrounded by people, and maybe someone had said something to her and Lily had one of her fits again. ‘And why does she want the boy? Should I tell Arthur? ‘No, don't say anything to anyone, just come… We're in the dungeons.’ ---------------------- Henry did not know how to control his magic, and that distressed Arabella. If he was a Muggle it would be so much easier, she knew that, because when Henry made that poor boy float, and then made a flower vase explode, she knew she would have to explain a lot to him: Why couldn't he go to a proper college and why she didn't do magic like he did. Arabella no longer felt ashamed of being a Squib, she had accepted the condition and lived normally, or at least as she managed to, avoiding whenever anyone asked about it just to avoid people's prejudice. Some thought she was a

Muggle who had married a wizard, and that's why she knew so much about it. Others thought that she just hadn't had a chance to go to school, and that's why she didn't know how to properly control magic. "They made fun of me!" Henry said, annoyed, his eyes red from crying. “They said things—horrible things to me!” He sobbed, which made Arabella even sadder and more worried. His green eyes glistened with tears, staring at her for answers. "They told me I-I'll never be good at-at anything." He sobbed louder and louder, the scraped knee now forgotten, as if the internal pain was much bigger. She was about to cry with him. “Henry, honey, listen to me.” She took a deep breath, thinking that conversation had come earlier than she'd planned. ‘What they said is a lie. They don't know how to control their magic either, they probably won't for a good few years, and you're already good at a lot of things, of course you are, Henry. You're much better at putting together puzzles, and you're much faster too, I mean, you always win at the races.' Arabella smiled sweetly, smoothing his messy hair, thinking how unfair it was that such a sweet little boy already got to know this side of life. She wished she could just show the good side of life, and leave the thorns and stones for when he understood things better. Arabella wondered how her mother managed to do this so masterfully, because right now, she wanted to be able to hex the parents of those boys and force them to teach their children more respect for others. She wished it had been her who had been pushed and thrown out of the game, not her child. Her heart broke even more, feeling helpless. ‘Don't listen to what they say, ok? You're amazing, a very smart kid, and your future will be bright.” She promised, because it was true. Arabella would do anything for her son. ---------------------- Henry ran as fast as he could, passing through the trees and not even bothering with the branches that scratched his skin, he just needed to get out of there. He knew he shouldn't have pissed off those boys, but they were scaring another younger boy, and just because they'd now gone to that stupid school of stupid people, they thought they were even better than the rest of the people there. Henry wished he could go to Hogwarts, but his mother had told him that you needed to receive a letter, and that they were only sent for a few families - maybe if you're lucky you get the letter, she said smiling, even though the smile didn't reach her eyes. Arabella had never said this, but Henry knew he would probably never get the letter; he wasn't rich and he didn't have a father, and for some reason, that seemed to be enough to keep him away from others. He ran even faster when he heard loud laughter, he wasn't afraid of those kids anymore, Henry had grown up while they were in school, more than they were, but they had one advantage: magic. Arabella couldn't buy a wand, so he didn't have one, and even if he did, he wouldn't know how to use it. “You're a wimpy coward if your only way to fight is with magic…don't you know how to punch?” Henry had said to Jilian, the biggest idiot of them all. Henry wasn't very good at punching, but he was very fast, while when Greg tried to cast a spell on him, he ran off into the forest, barely noticing when his own magic created a dome around him, preventing any spells from hitting him. . ---------------------- “Why are we so different?” Henry asked, taking a seat beside Arabella as she kneaded the bread on the table. She looked at him, noticing that the boy was all sweaty and looking a little smudged with dirt. “How many times have I told you not to go into the woods?” She returned her gaze to the dough, continuing to knead. "It's quieter there." He shrugged, pulling his sweaty hair off his forehead, letting his scar show for a few seconds before hiding it again. “And more dangerous too, and you know it.” Arabella raised her eyebrows, scolding him. She'd heard horrible stories of people meeting a werewolf deep in the woods, and as much as she didn't

know whether or not it was true, she didn't want Henry to take any chances like that. He was only 13 years old, he should have been playing with the other kids on the street and not running into the trees. "Okay, I won't do it anymore." He sighed, but she knew he would break that promise the next time he had the opportunity. ‘But then? Why aren't we alike?’ "Henry, because you were born from another belly. I already said that" She placed the buns in the oven, washing her hands afterwards and looking up at him with a gentle smile on her face. "I met you when you were very young, you know this story." "But why can I make things float and you can't?" His green eyes stared at her with an expression much harder and more serious than she was used to, as if he would know if she lied. ‘Because not all of us are born doing magic. Some of us are good at something other than magic… It's something you need to be born knowing how to do, you can't develop it, just improve it.” Arabella swallowed, trying not to show so much the scars that had left on her. People weren't kind when they found out you were a Squib. He was quiet for a few minutes, looking at his hands as if he wanted to find the right words. The sun streaming through the kitchen windows illuminated his black hair, a few strands reflecting an almost red copper color that Arabella thought was beautiful. 'Can you never do magic?' He looked at her, and all the worry she'd ever felt, scared that maybe Henry would feel sorry for her or ashamed of her, drained and slipped out as his green eyes stared at her, full of affection and sadness. Not the same sadness that always came with grief, but as if he felt bad that he did magic and she didn't, as if he understood now why some people offended her and treated her differently. "No." She gave a half smile. "But I'm not sad about it anymore, I like who I am." And it was true. Henry nodded, still being silent for a while, seeming to absorb the information, then he got up from the wooden bench, walking over to her and hugging her. He was no longer her little boy—as much as he always would be her baby—Henry now almost reached her chest, and it wouldn't be long before he was taller than her. She hugged him back, enjoying this show of affection, imagining that a few years from now he wouldn't like hugs so much. "I love you," he said. ‘I love you very much too. Forever and ever.” Arabella kissed the top of his head, tightening her hold even more, as if she was afraid someone would suddenly take him away from her. ---------------------- It had been a long time since James had been in the dungeons, he didn't like going there, it was cold, wet, lonely, and it made him think too much. It made him think his son's things were there, in boxes organized as if they were just another mess and not everything he and Lily had ever dreamed of. It made him think of the pain that resided in his chest, the emptiness that nothing in the world had ever been able to fill. James hated the dungeons. Lily, unlike him, loved being there, she said it was the best place for her to think, and the calmest of all - 'It's where I feel that no one will look at me with pity, where I can think of my son in peace, you know what I'm talking about," she said when James questioned her about the surroundings. He knew, he understood her, James had changed into Prongs many more times than necessary, he did it every time the pain got too much to take. He walked down the stairs, trying to ignore the shiver that ran down his spine, couldn't anyone make this place something less scary? After Remus left, James warned Sirius, who tried to pretend as best he could and further entertain the men who now looked curious to death, while he went to talk to Mr. Figg. "I need you to accompany me, but I need you to do this cautiously and discreetly," James asked, looking into those green eyes closely, trying to remember where he knew that expression. "I'll go ahead, meet me in five minutes at the entrance to the stone path, do you know where it is?" The man nodded, tucking

his wand into the waistband of his pants and straightening his robes. 'I'll let Arthur know I'll take you, just so he won't be worried, but I think you understand that you shouldn't say anything to anyone, right?' "Yes, my Lord." The man made a brief, discreet bow, and James grimaced, not understanding why that made him uncomfortable. Now James heard footsteps behind him as he walked through the dungeon, neither of them saying anything. Why had Lily asked Mr. Figg to come along? Had she found out something about the boy? Something bad? James glanced quickly over his shoulder, noticing that the man looked warmed too, his hands behind him and his back straight. Has something happened to Miss Weasley? Well, if so, Arthur would be called too, right? James broke off as soon as he reached the last room, the one he avoided the most, and the only one with lighted candles. The first thing he saw when he entered were the boxes, stacked against a wall, then he realized there were some of Harry's things on the floor, smeared with dirt and sticks, and James' heart missed a beat when he saw the Snitch Pajamas The gold one he'd bought when he found out Lily was pregnant was now all filthy and torn. Had they been attacked? Was that why Lily sent for him? Then he saw Remus, opening Lily's herb cabinet and looking for something inside, he looked worried. In the back, near the only window there, was Peter, all smeared with mud too, sitting on the floor with his hands behind his back, his red cheeks making him look like a child caught doing something wrong, and his rumpled clothes hinting that he had fought someone. Finally, sitting on the bench was Lily. Her dress was dirty too, but that wasn't what James first noticed, it was her red face, her pink cheeks like when she drank wine, her hands shaking as she poured something into the cauldron, looking more nervous than ever. "What's going on?" James glanced at the three of them, feeling even more anxious. "Lily, what the fuck is going on?" "Did you bring Henry?" James frowned at her calling the man by his first name, but nodded anyway, Peter sighed in the corner, looking almost terrified, not making eye contact with James for a moment. ‘Great, send him in.’ ---------------------- Henry knew he shouldn't be there, his mother had forbidden him, but he had nowhere else to go. Jilian had come back from his stupid school and he seemed more than happy to train some spells on Henry, and even though he had honed his punching technique, he couldn't compete with magic. So he ran into the forest. It was cold there, it had rained last night and the earth had turned to mud, and because of the tall trees the sun's rays didn't penetrate as much, and the whole environment ended up getting wetter than usual. Henry shivered as the wind made him wonder why he hadn't grabbed a jacket. He was sitting on the usual rock, it was close to the river that separated them from the Muggles, and it gave him a good view across the village. There were houses like the ones on this side, but they always looked a lot less colorful than the ones he was used to, and there weren't as many flowers and trees either, as if the Muggles were willing to clear every bit of land they found, leaving everything gray and monotonous. Henry had asked his mother if they could go to that side of the village, but Arabella had been stern to say he was forbidden to even think about going to the Muggles. He chuckled softly, thinking that if it hadn't been for the river that separated them, he probably would have managed to at least get there, curious as always. A noise startled him, making him jump and hide behind the rock, praying it wasn't one of Jilian's friends, as he would be at such a disadvantage. There wasn't much to run now, Henry had almost reached the end of the forest, and unless he took a chance and ran towards the darkest and scariest part, the other option was to jump into the river. And he wasn't doing any of those things. But when he didn't hear voices or anything to indicate they were people, he stood up,

watching a deer walking around, distracted by everything, as if nothing else mattered. Henry had never seen one this close, and he was a little fascinated by the animal, he understood why there are two deer on the Potter family crest. It really was a beautiful animal, and if he could choose, he would also want them emblazoned on his chest. Henry stepped out from behind the rock, careful not to startle the animal, trying to get as close as he could. “Hey,” he called, even though it didn't make much sense. The animal turned, eyes huge now in his direction. It had been a bad idea, he cursed himself mentally, imagining that that animal was too big and would probably kill him without a second thought… Did deer eat human flesh? Henry didn't know, but they probably hurt anyone who scared them and made them feel in danger. The animal approached, slowly, and each step made the boy's stomach turn and his heart race. Deer were fast, much faster than Henry was. He was dead. But when the animal's black eyes got much closer than Henry had ever thought he saw, the animal bowed, as if saying hello to him. Without thinking twice, he did the same, maintaining eye contact with the deer. Heavens, couldn't he be less weird? Bending over to deer, blowing things up without meaning to... Henry stood up after a while, being careful to do this as slowly as possible, still afraid the deer would decide to kill him then and there. But the animal seemed to have other plans, because he lay down in front of the boy, as if he were an adorable little dog. Henry sat beside him too, having no choice; he didn't have many friends, and he had nothing else to do, so why not? His ass got a little wet from the dirt, but nothing too uncomfortable. The deer shifted and brought its head closer to Henry's crossed leg, as if asking for affection, and the boy didn't wait for another move to do so, leaning his back against the stone and reaching out to stroke the slightly coarse fur of the animal For some strange reason, Henry felt comfortable doing it, as if he had done it before, it was something familiar that burned in his chest. But he didn't think about it much, just fell silent and watched the forest in front of him. ---------------------- "Lily, what's going on?" James asked, feeling uneasy as he watched the tension surround the room, Remus looked nervous and Peter avoided looking up, as if he was suddenly afraid to face one of them. Lily turned to James, her green eyes seemed to glow with hatred, her nostrils swollen, an expression he'd seen a few times over the years, but one that always scared him. "What... What happened?" Her shaky voice made him look at Remus again, the worry growing by the second. "Oh James." She shook her head, as if suddenly too much pain hit her, and he ran to her protection, opening his arms to hold her and protect her from anything that had happened while he was gone. "Guys, anyone…?" He glanced at his friends, but again, Peter didn't look at him. "Tell him, Peter!" Lily yelled, breaking out of James' embrace and turning to the man sitting on the floor, pointing her wand in his direction. ‘Lily, what the hell!?’ "No, James," She held up a hand, silencing him. "Tell Peter, tell him what you did to our son." His world stopped, his eyes threatening to pop out of their sockets as James stared at his friend, begging for all that was most sacred that he hadn't quite understood. Peter was his brother, his best friend, they met when they went to Hogwarts together, he was there when James needed it most, when they decided to become Animagus… Peter wouldn't do that, he couldn't! James doubted that one day the pain of losing a child would be replaced by another, that hellish emptiness that tore at him more and more inside, that made him not sleep well on rainy nights, that still made him walk into the boy's immaculate room and sit on the floor wondering what he should have done differently. He would do anything to get his son back, his boy. But the pain that hit him when Peter shook his head and lowered his head, making him

realize his hands were tied behind his body, came very close. His best friend… betrayed him? "Peter?" James pleaded, begged, for it to be a lie, for Lily to be mad. It was a lie! It had to be. "I had to, James... I... he made me." ---------------------- The weather was not so good, Peter realized when he Apparated, the sky was dark and windy like never before. He should have worn another cloak, this one was too thin and made him cold. And other gloves too, because now these were bloody and torn. Who knew a woman could be so strong? Peter dragged the woman's passed out body with him, feeling a little sickened by that when he realized her wound was getting worse with each passing minute, he needed to be quick. Leaving the body where no one could find it, he pulled a strand of her hair into the potion and then took it, the horrible taste of iron made him want to spit it out on the floor, but now there was no turning back, he would have to swallow and continue with the plan. Lord Voldemort had promised him a great reward in exchange for the boy's life, and for the first time in a long time, Peter felt important and wanted. It wasn't that Black boy who was chosen, or even Snape, no no, he was the one Voldemort thought capable of completing the mission, he thought he was strong enough. How long has it been since? He only stayed inside the Order because James kept him there, no one really wanted him there, not even Dumbledore, Peter didn't need him to say it to know, it was visible to everyone. For the old man, any other man could do the job better than he… Probably if Lily were there too, she would be chosen before Peter. Potter this, Black that, Peter was tired. Why didn't anyone realize he was also strong and smart? Well, now that was over, Voldemort had seen his potential and chosen him to do this mission, and Peter wasn't going to fail now. When he was fully transformed into that whore, he apparated into the castle, glad the potion didn't stop him from doing so. Stupid James should have put in better security than a simple spell. Peter had seen James that afternoon, he said that today was Harry's first night trying to sleep alone and that he and Lily were excited to see how he would react to the change, so the plan would be even easier to execute. As excited as Peter was at the idea of ​​being useful to someone, he knew he couldn't kill James, he had to really want to do it with all his heart. When he reached the boy's room, Peter looked around, noting the choice of bright, cheerful colors, the many teddy bears scattered around, the photos on the walls and in the frames above the dresser. Little Harry slept peacefully in his bed, wrapped in the pale blue blanket, looking peaceful, cuddled up with his deer teddy bear. He was a lot like James, Peter thought, watching the boy move his short legs like he was kicking something in the dream. He hadn't really thought about that part of the plan, he figured he'd have the guts to just take the boy and end his life right there, or in some alley farther along, but when Peter picked him up, being careful not to waking him up, that lavender scent invaded his nostrils and he watched the baby more closely. The boy looked helpless in his arms, like he wasn't even real, and if he wasn't watching the boy's belly rise and fall, Peter would think he was a doll. Voldemort would never know if he had killed the boy or not, and pausing to analyze the situation now, Peter also didn't know if he could kill the boy. He wanted to show that he was strong and useful, but a baby? Harry looked so…small. When he stirred, startling Peter, and seemed to be looking for something - maybe his mother's scent - he realized it was time to act, there was no turning back, it had to be now. And when lightning flashed in the sky, he cast a spell to prevent Harry from listening when he broke the glass to fake an escape, Peter waited for thunder to do so and then Apparated out of the castle, knowing that this was the best thing to do. There were two paths now, and he needed to think quickly

which was better, kill Harry and throw him in some hole, or give the boy to someone else. Of course he would risk this person recognizing the baby, but he would have to bet his luck on finding another baby like this for Lily and James to bury, or maybe even run to the Muggle village and find some woman there. It had to be fast, Harry would wake up any second and Peter didn't have much time after that. As soon as he spotted a woman a few blocks away and Harry opened his eyes in his arms, Peter acted without thinking, taking the knife from his pants pocket and opening a wound in his ribs, before starting to scream for help. ---------------------- James clapped his hand over his mouth, denying it over and over, not believing what he was hearing. No no no no. This had to be a lie, this had to be a lie. Peter would never do that, Peter was his brother, he would never… No, this could only be a joke. He could barely handle the pain right now, thinking he'd rather die than have to deal with it. It hurt so much that James thought he might start bleeding at any moment, his chest lacerated after hearing about it. He couldn't even feel angry. His boy, his little boy, whom he'd loved so much ever since Lily told him she was pregnant, that it made him want to scream from the top of the roof in so much joy… “I could kill you right now,” he said, after what seemed like an eternity, barely able to face the traitor. "But…" James shook his head, closing his eyes to try to make it hurt a little less, his father's voice resonating through his mind; "You must be careful with Peter," he said before he died. "Men like him are easily attracted to the side that shines the most." James had thought his father was delusional when he said that, thought it was the fever, but no, the bastard really was a weakling and a coward. Letting himself be attracted to those he once hated. If he really hated it. "I can't even look at you." James turned to Lily, who looked distraught to death at having to hear that story. He wanted to kill Peter even more for making her suffer like that. The traitor had been there the next day, helping with the searches, he had hugged Lily when she cried, told her everything would be fine. "James, give me your hand," asked Lily, her own trembling, reaching out towards him. 'Why?' "Lils…he could be lying—" She shook her head, telling Remus to shut up. "Give me your hand James." Now her voice was stronger, more determined, and her green eyes sparkled even more. He did so, letting her grab his palm and run the tip of the knife, causing the blood to drip and smear her workbench and floor, before finally dripping into the cauldron. “Lily, what are you doing?” But she didn't answer him, cutting her own palm and spilling her blood along with his, then looking over her husband's shoulder. She looked more nervous than ever, and her severed hand shook even more as she held it out to the man behind James. "Give me your hand, Henry." Her green eyes sparkled with tears, and James didn't know if the man did as she asked just because she was a Duchess, or because she was crying. "Yes, ma'am." He walked over and let her do the same thing with his palm, passing the tip of the knife and then letting the blood spill into the cauldron. The potion began to bubble fiercely, as did James' chest when he realized what Lily was up to. He had seen her make this potion a few times, and if his thinking was correct, then maybe he could vomit right there, his stomach churning and making him feel weak. James didn't want to get his hopes up, it only served to hurt when unrequited, but he was unable to hold back the urge and looked at the man behind him, and then at Peter, who now looked even more guilty, if that was possible. If this was another one of his jobs with Voldemort, James knew he would kill him right there, with his bare hands. Forget magic and wands, he would tear that mouse apart like a hungry lion. James turned to the cauldron again when Lily sobbed and he smelled the lavender scent all over the room, and the once gray

potion was now a pinkish hue, the three drops of blood seemed to dance in the middle of the liquid, before of finally meeting at the end, getting connected. "Harry." Lily turned to the man, but James remained frozen, watching the cauldron in front of him. They had never reached this result, usually the potion would explode or nothing happened, and the smell was never that sweet aroma that seemed to fill all the hollows in his chest, as if he suddenly felt no more pain. As he turned back, as Lily advanced towards the boy, James thought that maybe nothing would ever compare to this. "Harry," Lily repeated, but this time she touched him, and as if the boy felt it too, he lowered his green eyes to her. James remembered then where he knew that look… It was Lily's eyes. Her trembling hand went to his forehead, lifting the hair lying there, just to let them see the lightning scar marked into his skin. It was too much to handle, James didn't know how he was still standing, but suddenly he started to feel tears rolling down his cheeks and as if this was the last drop of water to overflow the bucket, he sobbed. He inched closer to Lily, wanting to take a closer look at his son, as if he was afraid this was a dream and soon he would no longer have the chance to memorize every detail of it. His boy… "You-" Harry trailed off, as if he was feeling like James and Lily, his chest filling up and all that emptiness seeming to finally heal. "My parents?" He looked at James, and it was as if time had never passed. He still had the same expression as that little baby James used to cuddle up to sleep on. "I knew I knew you from somewhere," James managed to say, his throat seeming to scratch with the effort it took. "I would never be able to forget…" He didn't mind the tears rolling down his face, but he tried to wipe the ones down Harry's face. "I would never be able to forget my son."

[facets-and-rainbows]

Blue Exorcist 10th anniversary book Q&A session

The 10th anniversary book has a section where Katoh answers 100 questions submitted by fans on Twitter, so here they are translated/paraphrased! May contain manga spoilers up to the recent flashback arc, so be warned.

(Note that I’m playing it very fast and loose here because there are A HUNDRED OF THEM, so not exact wordings, but it should capture the gist. Lemme know if there are any you want elaborated on)

1. Katoh likes the feel of traditional drawing more than digital but is impressed with how far digital has come

2. Meph THOROUGHLY ABUSES spacetime to watch all his shows and ensure that he gets all the merch he wants

3. Did the girls take all of Yukio’s school uniform buttons in middle school? Yes, they did (apparently it’s like A Thing for girls to ask for a button from their crush at middle school graduation, based on some sad movie from the 60s where a guy who got drafted as a kamikaze pilot gave a girl one of his uniform buttons to remember him by)

4. Rin's tail is about a meter long

5. There are tons of servants working at Mephisto's mansion. Belial is in charge of them

6. Katoh borrows from all sorts of neat real locations when making settings

7. Katoh identifies with pretty much all the characters the most! Except Lucifer.

8. Demon designs she's proud of include the impure king and hachirou, pretty much anything that was the main one in an arc

9. Katoh lists a bunch of her favorite musical artists/music she’s listening to recently: King Gnu, Official Hige Dandism, Kenshi Yonezu, BAD HOP, Sakanaction, Keyakizaka 46, Hypnosis Mic, Aimer, B’Z, Queen Bee.

10. Awww the rabbit manga that characters are often reading isn't just Robo to Usakichi, it's an even older one that she drew as a little kid

11. She likes industrial style interior designs

12. Rin and Yukio alternated who got the top bunk growing up, because they couldn't agree on it lol

13. Katoh cares a whole lot about panel layouts and speech bubble positions, might even be her favorite part of the process (it shows!)

4. Katoh does NOT have a mashou, lol

15. Rin has probably been practicing in secret so he can learn to carry stuff with his tail

16. Izumo probably got into shojo manga around 1st grade, her mom had some around the house

17. Specialty dishes: Rin - lots of stuff but especially nabe Yuri - stuff you can throw together quickly Shiro - stuff he learned from Yuri and/or cookbooks, alongside teaching Rin Yukio - Does. Not. Cook.

18. Can't pick a favorite place she's been on research, but there's no place like Japan

19. Kinzou's band isn't currently meeting because demons, but he's probably still thinking of new songs

20. Hardest characters to draw: anyone with detailed flowing hair. Hardest to write for: Lightning and Gedouin. She had to go read books about serial killers specifically for material for Gedouin, lol 

21. Suguro actually gets a dorm room to himself, though allegedly Yukio is technically assigned as his roommate, lol. Didn't end up that way what with Yukio being a teacher and also Rin’s whole...situation

22. Shiemi makes some of her own hair accessories! Cute

23. Katoh doesn't mind if you include stuff with fan letters but check with the editor first

24. Time for making each chapter: Planning/storyboarding: 1-5 days. Sketching: 3-5 days. Drawing/inking: the rest. Just...the rest of the time

25. Neither Suguro nor Izumo have dated before and neither is currently dating. But that's probably just because things were hectic for them! It could happen

26. Yukio breaks 5 or 6 pairs of glasses a year, someone get this kid a strap or something

27. How many spare glasses does Yukio have? Check the fanbook lol it's in there (dang it Katoh)

28. The demon she wants us to pay the most attention to is Lucifer. Because plot.

29. What's under the Order's big meeting table? It's a BOTTOMLESS PIT and if you fall in it you DIE that's what makes it COOL (laughs)

30. What are the job requirements for the angelic legion? Literally just Arthur liking you and inviting you to join

31. She WANTS to do more character profiles but just hasn't gotten to it

32. Rin's tail feels like a cat tail, texture wise

33. The "red Assiah fire" is literally just actual fire nothing special

34. Rin's current hair color is light blue fading to white at the ends

35. Thoughts on Rin's growth: she likes that he stays positive in awful situations and she also thinks it's very main character of him to face the past instead of avoiding it

36. Mephisto didn't purposely surround Rin with stuffed animals when he woke up after going crispy. Mephisto's bed is just Like That

37. Kurikara was based on a cool sword she found in a sword book, but that one was technically just a ceremonial sword. The symbol on it us a Sanskrit letter kaan (sp?) associated with Fudou Myouou

38. Kuro can communicate with normal cats and hangs out with them often

39. Sometimes Shiemi's skirt is extra fancy around the hem what's up with that? Apparently it's an optional accessory that comes with the skirts help I haven't noticed this and don't know any fashion terms in any language

40. When coloring, Katoh always tries to have an overall theme in mind ("emphasis on blue" etc) so it comes together in the end

41. Yes the twins are genetically related to Shiro because of Goro (she says they're like his nephews but I say GENETICALLY at least they'd be indistinguishable from his children)

42. Strongest mom of all the strong moms around here? Yuri! Did you SEE her give birth??

43. Are you careful about your own health Katoh-sensei? Not particularly! Her mom has had to bring her food at work sometimes! Don't do this at home kids

44. At the dating events Shura goes to, does she drink cocktails in moderation? Yeah, she probably downplays her normal drinking habits at these things. But normally she's down for just about any kind of drink

45. Lucifer just really likes oysters okay

46. How many pages of manga does Katoh draw in a day? If she's being good about self-care: three. Maximum number ever: TEN

47. Mephisto is one of those folks who can eat like a garbage compactor and never gain weight. Possibly because his body resists that sort of change the same way it resists aging etc

48. First food Rin cooked: fish burger type patty. Yukio's favorite things Rin cooks: fish simmered in soy sauce, yellowtail with daikon radish. It's fish all the way down

49: Did Rin ever get more monthly allowance from Mephisto? It doubled! He gets TWO 2000 yen bills now (rip) [T/N: That's uh, that's USD $37.26 a month or 33.10 euro]

50. Why isn't Rin more popular with the girls? He gets nervous talking to them, plus he's too oblivious to notice even if he DID have some fans

51. Why change Suguro's hair? She gets bored with keeping everything the same, and she wanted a visual representation that he was getting serious and going into kind of a training arc

52. Things Katoh pays extra attention to when drawing: trying to capture the feel of whatever she's drawing (like "that looks warm and soft" or "I bet that guy stinks" cough Lightning cough)

53: Does Rin take after Yuri more? (He's got her eyes!) Katoh tried to draw Yuri so she looks like both twins. Personality, too - Yukio has her smarts and Rin has her optimism

54: Do you ever wanna be like Mephisto? Well she'd like to be able to get away with just ANYTHING EVER, but no, let's not be like Mephisto

55. Konekomaru not only carries around a cat toy in case he meets any cats, he MAKES cat toys to carry around based on what he thinks the cats would like

56. How'd you come up with Shima? Go read the fan book!

57. Do the kids have Twitter/Instagram accounts? Rin - probably not. Konekomaru might be on some social media. Paku and Izumo are totally on instagram

58. Is there something Rin makes that you wish you could try? All of it! That's the whole idea! He's good at cooking!

59. Will we ever have a (G-rated) reveal of what ALL of Mamushi and her family's tattoos look like? Maybe! She'll think about it

60. Does Arthur have a repertoire of different hairstyles? Not really, he just puts some of it up on the top. Heck he might even have people to do that for him

61. If you wrote a shojo manga what would it be about? She'd have to do a lot of research before even coming up with a story, since there are so many style differences between the genres aside from just the subject

62. The other two of Mephisto's top 3 favorite foods: Cup ramen and....f-fried bubblegum?? Is that a THING???

63. Where do you start when drawing a character? Usually the outline of their face but if it's a complex pose/composition she'll start with whatever's in the foreground (like hands)

64. If Katoh could have a familiar, what demon would she choose? Mephisto. As the all-powerful author, she might actually be able to command him as a familiar!

66. If you swapped Yukio and Rin's relationship around what would change? not much, you'd pretty much have Rin going to the Illuminati and Yukio going to the past

67. Top 3 foods/souvenirs to try in Kyushu? Well she doesn't know what’s good CURRENTLY but when she was there she always used to like burdock tempura udon, hakata torimon (a kind of manju with white bean paste inside), and Chikae style cod roe. today I learned Katoh went to high school in Kyushu

68. Katoh listens to music a lot while she's storyboarding, then when she and the assistants are all drawing and inking they put various videos/movies and stuff on in the background

69. For all his hitting on girls, is Shima actually popular with the ladies at all? He's got enough girls in his life that he probably COULD find a girlfriend if he really wanted, but the double agent thing tends to get in the way. He still wouldn't be as popular as Yukio though (side thought/translator’s note: Shima would be proud of being number 69.)

70. Katoh has the ending planned out in a big-picture way, but there are still a few details here and there that she's fretting over

71. It's cute when the boys put their ties over their shoulders when they're working on something! Where'd that come from? She just figured a tie might get in the way and that seemed like a realistic way to get it out of the way

72. Looks like Yukio is getting some facial hair! What about Rin? They're both about the age for it, but maybe Rin can't grow a beard yet. Maybe a little peach fuzz here and there

73. Katoh's favorite blue exorcist merch? There were some exorcist licenses a while back, and the exorcist pins. Basically it's really cool that these little accessories she drew ACTUALLY EXIST NOW, LIKE YOU CAN HOLD THEM IN YOUR HANDS

74. Okay realtalk how long do we have left, I don't want the series to end yet? We're solidly in the second half by now but it's not, like, ABOUT to end yet

75. Katoh would be a Knight meister, based on what characters she likes to play in games and such

76. How many people in the whole exorcism cram school? More than you think! She doesn't give a number but apparently licensed exorcists also attend classes for new meisters, etc, so there's a wide age range attending

77. How's Arthur feel about, like, studying Taming on the way to becoming Paladin? He's at least mostly accepted that you have to use demons to fight demons effectively

78. Konekomaru started wearing glasses in his first year of middle school, so like 7th grade (more recent than I thought!) He has one spare pair, in contrast to Yukio lol

79. Katoh's current obsessions? Ghost/scary stories! She's even been going to live readings of them recently

80. Media Katoh consumes for inspiration? A wide range of foreign teen drama, horror/suspense, shojo manga, light novels, anime, etc. Special focus on things where two boys are in conflict or there are brothers involved

81. If they weren't exorcists what jobs would they have? Rin - chef. Yukio - doctor. Shiemi - uh, florist?

82. Inspiration for the design of True Cross Town? Katoh and her assistants gathered up a bunch of references, picked out stuff they felt matched the tone, and mashed them all up together

83. Did you use any references etc for the school/exorcist uniforms? She says she probably should have but she just kind of made them up before publication

84. Favorite part of drawing? For color pages, picking out a color scheme. For black and white, drawing in all the little details (though she doesn't always get time to lately)

85. Once again confirms the demon kings' weird hair is a representation of their horns. ADDS THAT PEOPLE WHO CAN'T SEE DEMONS CAN'T SEE THE WEIRD HAIR

86. Now that Yukio's at the Illuminati, where's he gonna get his Jump SQ and spare glasses? Well he probably never planned to stay for long, but hey it's a big ship and they might have an optometrist and/or newsstand there

87. Do you base the demon characters on any references etc? Not really, she just gets a general idea of popular demon designs and then makes up her own in her own style

88. Merchandise Katoh personally wants to have made: stuff that an adult could just use in their day to day life. Also, it's not gonna happen, but if her favorite figure brand made AoEx figures she could die happy

89. If Beelzebub's host body was a beautiful woman, how would Shima react? Would the womanizing win out over the bug phobia? Katoh replies that Shima would probably just faint from being near a girl that pretty, before the bugs even got involved

90. Will the twins ever get to smile and eat dinner together again?? We'll just have to wait and see!

91. What do you check at a "scenario check"? what's a scenario check man I dunno They check for people being out of character or the setting feeling off. They had a lot of these checks for the anime, but they also do them for the drama CD, games, and all that other stuff where multiple authors are involved

92. Why does Shura use baldy as an insult for people who are clearly not bald? She feels like they have some kind of metaphorical, mental kind of "baldness" and she's calling them out on it. Whatever that means

93. After Blue Exorcist ends, what do you want to draw next? She has SO MANY IDEAS, SO MANY

94. Did Katoh make up the Shinto chants that, for example, Izumo used against Gedouin? They're assembled from bits of actual Shinto prayers according to what feels right in the scene

95. Yukio reads the Jump SQ, right, and, just hear me out here, he likes gag manga, right? Does this mean he reads Salaryman Yukio? It's something he would read, but let's say that in the AoEx universe there's just a very similar manga that he finds oddly relatable

96. What do Yukio and Shima do in their free time on the Dominus Liminus? oh my god you guys this ship has so many amenities.  Yukio probably spends time reading in the library, which they totally have. There's also, like, a gym, and a movie theater, and a THEATER theater, all of which are free. Shima probably hangs out at the pool (!) and goes to the movies, and hits on illuminati girls, lol

97. Easiest character to draw? The ones with boring simple hair, lol. Lightning gets an honorable mention for ALSO not having eyes in most shots, but Rin wins--he was specifically designed to be easy for Katoh to draw because that's what you want in your main character

98. How do demons understand gender? They just possess whatever feels like the best match to how they feel in Gehenna, whether that's a man, or a woman, or a rat, or whatever

99. Where do you start when you're coming up with a story? She starts with character design and how the characters relate to each other. Currently she's just continuing an existing story, so she works on splitting up the overall plot into episodes and fleshing it out with scenes and information about characters

100. When do you feel most happy? She honestly feels like she lives a very happy life overall. Mentions noticing a lot of little things, like how nice her cats' heads smell when she cuddles them or taking a nice cold refreshing drink of water. There's happiness in everything. aww.

[itsmeevie01]

Bio!Dad Bruce Day 14-Gala (Part 1)

ummm hi? i just wanted to give yall a huge heads up that this IS part one of two, and part two will be added when i have time to go back and finish. both my computer and my phone are acting up, and my tablet has a faulty keyboard. that said, im going to work to get things back on track. 

Two days after Christmas, the manor was buzzing with activity. The Kents had arrived the day before, and now everyone was prepping for the annual Winter Gala. Marinette was standing in her room, hands on her hips, glaring at her father as he tried to convince her that no, Marinette, the gala is not that big of a deal. down the hall, Tim and Damien helped Alfred sort through the myriad of suits and other formal wear that the siblings would be wearing the next night. Jason had left on ‘business’, while Dick was watching over the people brought into finish decorating for the occasion. Once the boys’ clothing had been sorted, Alfred moved on to check on Cass who had been studiously avoiding all activity related to the Gala.

In the Crewe Group Chat

Kim: Mari, when do you get back in town??

Chlo: M, there’s damage control to do, do you want me to wait for you?

Max: Marinette, you may want to check your Instagram. I know that you avoid social media in Gotham but…

Chlo: MARINETTE CHENG-WAYNE

Chlo: Pick up your phone

Chlo: MARI

Alix: Chloe, chill.

Alix: there’s only so much we can do if she’s busy today.

Kim: we need to take care of this somehow though.

Alix: do we have ANY OTHER WAY to contact m?

Adrien: why do I feel like I’m missing something very important?

Max: have you checked the news lately?

Adrien: I only really check AkumaWatch, why?

Max: check international news

Adrien: is… is this what I think it is? (Attached is a screenshot of international gossip. At the top of the page is a picture of two teens in hoodies moving away from an airport. They are dragging suitcases and have their heads down to avoid attention. The boy’s hood is thrown back, and his well-known blue eyes are glaring at the photographer. Above it is the title has Timothy Drake-Wayne finally found love? The second screenshot is from farther down the article where there is a picture of Cassandra Cain-Wayne, Damien Wayne and Marinette hurrying along a sidewalk completely bundled up. The caption reads could this be Tim Drake-Wayne’s mystery girl? Who is she?)

Chlo: YES

Chlo: and its gala day so she’s going to be busy af anyways.

Adrien: What do you mean its Gala day? There’s only one Gala today?

Chlo: Duh. Mari is going.

Chlo: Keep up, Adrikins.

Alix: oh god

Alix: does anyone know how her dress turned out? She had been freaking out about it last I heard, and we all know how much M puts by first impressions.

Adrien: Ok, I’m still really confused? There’s only one Gala today? The Wayne Winter Charity Gala, which is really exclusive and a huge to-do? What Gala is Marinette going to???

Nino: dude

Nino: please

Nino: don’t be oblivious.

Mari: what did I miss?

Chlo: DID YOU SEE THE NEWS?????

Mari: um…yes? Jason has been having a ball with all the press. Why?

Chlo: I thought you were trying to be low key?

Mari: tonight

Chlo: IM SORRY??? WHY AM I ONLY HEARING ABOUT THIS NOW????

Alix: well, it’s a good thing you have so many influential friends who keep ending up at the same Galas as you, Mari

Adrien: ok, I’m still confused

Chlo: your going to the Winter Gala, right?

Adrien: yeah? We go every year. The only entertaining part is the fact that the Wayne kids always fight. Otherwise it’s all snobby rich people.

Chlo: I’m taking offence to that, since Alix and I have also been going for years.

Alix: seconded

Mari: to be fair, you both tend to hide away and prank people

Adrien: wait. That was you two?

Adrien: And Marinette, how do you know that?

Mari: omg

Mari: I give up sdjkgb

Class Group Chat

Lila: guys! My friend reached out to me…

Alya: wait! Which friend? Is it…?

Lila: yes! Its Maralynn! She’s sooooo excited about her family Gala tonight!

Alix: Maralynn?

Lila: ok, you didn’t hear it from me, but that mystery girl? Seen at the airport with THE Tim Wayne? That’s her! They’re actually twins!

Chloe: oh! That means that Alix, Adrien and I will see her tonight! Its so cool that she trusts you not to reveal who she is…. (:

Marinette: lol isn’t Twitter convinced that she’s dating Tim? AWKWARD

Lila: Maralynn told me that it wasn’t worth it to go after the rumors. I’m trying to respect her decision.

Rose: that’s so sweet, Lila! I didn’t know that you knew the Waynes!

Lila: I don’t know ALL of them, just Maralynn! We were at boarding school together in Italy for a few years.

Marinette: OH WOW

Nino: Chloe, Alix, your going to have to tell us what you think of her?

Lila: oh yes! And if you see my boyfriend, send my love!

Chloe:…BOYFRIEND???

Lila: oh? You didn’t know? Tim and I have had a thing for a while

Marinette: oh really? Chloe, you’ll have to pass on that she’s thinking of him tonight!

Lila: I mean… not if you don’t want to! I wouldn’t want to be a bother on GALA night!

Chloe: if I see him, it won’t be a bother at all Lila!

Marinette shook her head and set her phone down as the class chat continued to blow up. As much as she loved Chloe, she knew that the girl was instigating Lila for fun. When everything blew up, Marinette wanted to be able to stand back and watch the fire burn, but not be close enough to get burned. When she turned in her room, the garment bag in the corner caught her eye. Inside, Marinette knew, was a long black dress. When she had run the design past Alfred, the English man had given her an approving nod. Later, she had heard him mentioning to her father that at least one of his myriad of children would be able to dress themselves. The comment had made the teen giggle and she had made sure to put every effort she could into the gown. More than anything, she wanted to make her family proud. A knock on the door drew her attention and she turned to find Cass standing there, her own gown held in its own garment bag.

“get ready? Together?” the noirette lit up at her older sister’s suggestion and she nodded excitedly. The other girl moved into the room and hung the bag in her arms over the wardrobe next to Marinette’s. after she had deposited her shoes, the older teen turned to her sister and smiled.

By the time that Tim came to check on them, both girls had finished their Makeup and were working on hair. The makeup artist that Bruce had hired was packing up her stuff and the hair stylist was partway through Cass’s hair. Marinette turned towards her brother with a smile from where she was standing in front of the hidden dresses. “lend me a hand?” He smirked at the frustration on her face.

“Gladly, Little Bit. Which one is yours?” when the girl nodded to the larger of the two bags, Tim frowned. “how big exactly is your dress?”

“Big enough for me to need help getting it on. Its not that it’s exactly heavy either! Its just…poofy?” he laughed at Marinette’s rush to explain and helped her pull the bag off of the dress. When the dress was no longer hidden, his breath caught. The black dress was stunning. He could see where it moved from black to grey to blue at the bottom, and the long full sleeves followed the same style. Hanging on the hanger behind the dress was a black hoop, and a pair of low heels (as tall as Bruce would allow, actually. He had to remind her ten times that although this was a high society event, she was still 14, and didn’t need to be dressing like she was 20.) sat under the layers of the dress. Where he had been expecting glitter and sparkles, Tim was surprised to find that the satin was free of almost anything that glittered.

“wow” Marinette laughed at his reaction and reached for the hoop.

“I know, right? It took forever, but its totally worth it! And, it’s the designers first attempt at this kind of formal. I think she did a great job.” Tim paused at that.

“LB, hey,” his sister tensed at the abbreviation for her nickname before she turned to him. “who exactly designed your dress?”

“Oh, just a small up and coming designer. You wouldn’t have heard of her.” Cass sniggered from her spot by the vanity and Marinette shot their sister a smile. “ok! Let me get the slip on, and then after the hoop is on top, ill need your help with making sure the skirt fits right.”

Marinette would not be over exaggerating if she said that the red carpet was incredibly chaotic. The only thing she could think of that was more chaotic was perhaps the last time Jagged had held a concert in Paris. After she had made it through the gaggle of reporters and the public (was that Mr. Kent, SUPERMAN, she saw standing in the crowd calling out questions? Dam that man was everywhere.) the teen dropped her purse, that held an extra set of shoes, in her seat. The rest of the family wouldn’t be in for a bit. Her father, Dick, and Damien would all be in the receiving line Alfred would be behind the scenes all night, and Tim was already striking up discussions with business partners. Cass was on the other side of the room, looking stunning in her deep blue dress. When her sister had approached her, through her website, about the dress the teen had squealed at the idea of designing the close-fitting dress for her only sister. A Blonde caught her eye and pulled the noirette out of her thoughts. The familiar girl who was making her way over had abandoned her trademarked blues and yellows in favor of a deep red that matched the garnets littering her jewelry. A few steps behind her was another teen close to Marinette’s age with a pink pixie cut slicked down. The other teen was wearing a suit that had perfect tailoring…actually, that was Marinette’s suit. The girl laughed as Chloe and Alix joined her, the shortest of the three standing in the middle to draw attention to her suit.

As the girls caught up, they scanned the ballroom. On the other side, Tim was starting to look frazzled, while Marinette thought she saw Jason slip in past one of the servers. opposite them, Damien and Dick were starting to mingle while Bruce moved to greet the Kents. As she swept her gaze over the room, Marinette blinked. There, looking straight at her was-

“oh no, its Adrien. Chloe I love you and all, but if that boy causes a scene tonight…” Chloe waved away Alix’s worries.

“I already told him to be on his best behavior. I am personally more interested in when Felix will get here. For all his big talk about transferring to a private school in Paris, I won’t believe it until the brat comes to see me.” The group stifled their laughter at Chloe’s put out response.

“as long as he doesn’t come over asking about everything going on, we should be good.” Marinette nodded at Alix’s statement on Adrien.  

Look for Part 2 soon! if yall have any thoughts, i’d LOVE to hear them, since i have the basic plot down and im fleshing it out now...

[rainygothherowolf]

Jasonette/Daminette- Little Sister Pt.2

Previous ~ Here ~ Next

Marinette was in the kitchen, preparing herself some hot chocolate. After the drama at Wayne tower, Jason insisted she stay with his family. Her older brother seemed to loathe the class with a passion, refusing to let her near them. Marinette's parents were hesitant at first, not trusting some random Gotham boy to take care of their daughter but eventually they were persuaded. Where she would be staying was definitely a factor, where could be safer?

"I don't see how you could stand to drink such sugary poison." Damian stated making her jump, he was right behind her. He reached past Marinette and to the cupboard she was in front of. He grabbed a teacup before pulling his arm back, his eyes never straying from her own.

"Well then... what do you suggest I drink?" Marinette's hot chocolate sat on the counter behind her, forgotten, as she turned and faced Damian. The Parisian crossed her arms defiantly, Damian looked down at her like she was a cute puppy.

"Tea has been known to calm frayed nerves, perhaps I could prepare you some?"

"W-why would I need to calm down? I feel perfectly fine!" Marinette declared, refusing to give in. Her stubbornness seemed to amuse Damian, he reached out and just barely brushed her cheek with the back of his hand.

"Well, you've been blushing since you noticed I was here, for one. Now, would you like some tea? How do you take it?"

"I don't usually have tea. I tried making myself some a few times but always thought it tasted like bitter water."

"You haven't had my tea yet." Damian challenged, "You wouldn't be scared to try something I made, would you?" Marinette was coherent enough to see what he was doing, even if his imposing and, frankly, distracting physique was only a hair's breadth away.

"Only if you have my hot chocolate. Or are you scared of the 'sugary poison'?" Marinette offered, Damian leaned his head down just a fraction of an inch closer to Marinette before catching himself pulling away. He retreated back a few feet before turning to the sink.

"Alright then, it's a deal. I'll try the wretched holiday drink if you have my tea." Damian spoke with his back to her as he filled a kettle with water.

"Deal." Marinette agreed before heading to refrigerator, she's get him to admit her hot chocolate was good. No one called her favorite drink 'wretched' and got away with it.

"Deal." Damian reaffirmed.

By the time the drinks were done Marinette was thirsty, she would have had her own hot chocolate but Damian demanded she leave it, claiming it would cloud her pallet. She rolled her eyes at that but by the time she finally got past Damian's joking defense the drink was cold.

Marinette sipped from her cup first, Damian watched, both amused and attentive as she took a sip of the tea.

He laughed at her wrinkled nose, just for a moment- one could hardly call it a chuckle, before adding the cream.

"Try it now." Marinette looked at Damian hesitantly before taking another sip, this time he noticed her relax as a small smile graced her lips. Damian smirked at his little victory.

"Alright, your turn Monsieur." Damian rolled his eyes as Marinette watched him lift the mug. He felt she looked over excited for something so silly but found it strangely endearing.

The warm, smooth liquid made it's way past his lips and while it was a little too sweet for his liking, it was still good and he told her so.

"Fine, it was adequate." Marinette rolled her eyes before taking a taunting step toward him.

"Yeah right! That was some of my best work, you don't get to get away with calling it 'adequate'" Damian scoffed, taking a more intimidating step towards the short girl, one upping her in their little game of chicken.

"Then what do you suggest I call something I found too sweet but bearable?"

"Good! You call it good, it's important to be polite, Damian!" Marinette took another step forward forgetting how close they already were, refusing to back down. Damian had to look further down than usual to meet Marinette's passionately determined eyes.

He took his opportunity, using his right hand to tilt her chin upwards, smiling slightly, only slightly. They were so close, he could feel the warmth of her body from where he stood. Damian was about to speak when they saw someone walk into the kitchen, it was Jason.

The teenagers separated themselves quickly but it was too late, the damage was already done. The taller boy immediately scooped Marinette up and slung her over his shoulder. Jason was glaring daggers at a smug Damian before waking out of the room with Marinette. Damian waved goodbye to a blushing Parisian, she followed her old brothers lead and glared at the annoyingly smug boy.

The rest of Marinette's stay was an amusing balance between getting to know the Wayne's, spending time with Jason, and sneaking off with an unrepentant Damian.

Whenever Jason was around they kept their distance but were caught more than enough times.

"And you eat this?" Damian asked, bewildered at how anyone could consume something so unhealthy.

"Yes. It isn't that bad if you have it every once in a while. Sometimes the calories are worth it! Worth the satisfaction of indulgence." Damian scoffed from his seat on the counter opposite to Marinette, who was baking chocolate chip cookies.

"Why don't you help me? That way they're done sooner." Marinette offered, not realizing how disastrous the question was.

"I think it would be best if I didn't. Things tend to go wrong when me or my siblings attempt to do anything in the kitchen." Marinette giggled, she thought Damian was great. He was a good listener, funny, smart, and on top of that he was drop-dead-gorgeous. Marinette knew he wasn't just being friendly, no, he'd made his intentions perfectly clear when they first met but she didn't want to become a problem. Jason seemed to hate the idea, so she did her best to keep it friendly- unfortunately, Damian was persistent.

"It's just rolling the dough into balls, it's not even real cooking!" Marinette countered and Damian relented, getting up and watching her roll the dough before following suit.

At first, everything went suspiciously well. Damian did a good job rolling the dough and there was a period of comfortable silence, the problem with that was that it was too comfortable. Marinette began to hum, softly at first before it got a little louder. Damian didn't comment but eventually Marinette realized what she had done and blushed, her hands going to her head- accidentally getting flour on Damian's (NOT distracting) tight black turtleneck.

Marinette apologized repeatedly but noticed Damian was trying to smother his laughter.

"What? What is it?" The Parisian demanded, her accent thickening as she got more and more worried about what he was laughing at. As it turned out, the in her state of embarrassment she had not only dirtied Damian but also herself. She had cookie dough smeared across both cheeks. She blushed a deep red, making the cookie dough even more visible.

Eventually, Marinette moved past her embarrassment and spoke to a working Damian as he loaded the cookies in the oven.

"Oh Damian~" The boy turned, his eyes still amused.

"Ye-" Damian was cut off by a cloud of flour, she'd thrown the powdery substance at him as he turned. While blinded by the thick cloud of white Marinette was able to get close enough to get some cookie dough on his forehead.

"Oh it is on, little one, and I don't loose." They spent the next ten minutes throwing flour, extra dough, and water at each other, in a world of their own.

Reality didn't come crashing down on the teens until they saw the flash of a camera.

It was Tim and Stephanie.

Marinette blushed as she tried to dust the flour off herself, embarrassed that she'd made such a mess in someone else's home. Damian seemed to be torn between being amused at Marinette's embarrassment and trying to salvage what was left of his reputation.

"Jason's gonna lose it."

"Todd doesn't need to know."

"What's in it for us?" Stephanie countered, using her hand to lower Tim's hand as he tried to call Jason.

"Cookies?" Just as Marinette spoke the timer went off and she went to take the treats out of the oven. The warm chocolate-y smell filled the room as both Steph and Tim began to drool.

"Todd doesn't need to know?"

"Jason doesn't need to know." Tim seconded as Marinette fanned the cookies. When they were cool she handed them all the cookies on a plate. All but one that she negotiated for Damian to try.

Dick, Tim, Steph, Selina, even Bruce found it hilarious, they understood why Jason hated it, but they also saw that she brought out the best in Damian. It pissed Jason off, Marinette was off limits. Damian was frustrated because had Jason not been so annoying he'd have asked her out already, but watching the second robin get so riled up also made the chase that much more fun (not that Damian would even consider perusing her without her explicit encouragement).

Damian was taking Titus out for a walk on the grounds when he heard a familiar hum, he followed the high, sweet tune to the rose gardens where a small Parisian sat, sketching.

Marinette sat on a small bench for two, her hair in loose waves. She wore a black skirt that ended just above her knees and a deep red halter top with matching red flats. She looked stunning, surrounded by the vibrant rose bushes. He studied her for a moment more before making his presence known.

"What are you drawing?" Damian asked as he approached the girl. Marinette wasn't as jumpy as when they first met, getting used to his sudden appearances.

"A new design, a dress." Everyone knew she wanted to be a designer but no one knew she was MDC yet. Marinette convinced herself that was because it hadn't come up yet but in reality she was embarrassed. She'd heard Tim say they were his favorite designer and that if he ever met them he'd either fall in love (Stephanie slapped him across the head at that) or pass out.

Marinette didn't look up until Damian's shadow blocked the light. Marinette decided to tease him and ignore the boy in favor of his dog.

"Hello again, Titus! What a good boy, so cute!" She poured all her attention onto the animal who took it in stride. Damian didn't like being ignored but humored her, petting Titus.

"You like to design." It wasn't a question, Damian remembered what Grayson told him about conversation. He tried to find a relevant topic that would allow him to compliment her.

"May I see your sketch?" Damian asked, still paying attention to Titus. Marinette blushed as she quickly shut her sketchbook.

"Uh... hehe- maybe another day." Her logo was on the corner of each page and Marinette didn't want to risk it. Damian thought she looked adorable, blushing deeply, but he also thought it was uncalled for- he hadn't begun his teasing yet. This caught his attention and curiosity, he had to see the book.

"What? Why are you blushing?" Damian teased but he saw she was getting uncomfortable, he had done it in good fun but he saw he'd overstepped.

"Apologies- I'm sorry if I crossed a line I was just teasing, you don't have to show me- I didn't mean it." Damian was at a loss, he didn't think before he spoke and ended up stringing together apology after apology. Marinette giggled.

"It's okay, you don't have to blush!" Damian hadn't even noticed how hot his face was, this only embarrassed him further.

"Oh~ Do you need some tea? To calm the nerves?" Marinette teased, earning a half-assed glare from Damian, who was still trying to fight his blush. Finally, he got it under control. Despite the sidetrack Damian persisted, trying to start up another conversation just like Grayson told him to. He sat next to Marinette on the bench.

"The gardens are beautiful this time of year, are they not?" Damian offered. Marinette hummed in agreement, studying her surroundings before her eyes met Damian's.

"Breathtaking." Damian complimented, making Marinette blush heavily. Damian glanced at her full, pale rose lips, unconsciously licking his own. The Parisian seemed to notice and she tilted her head upward slightly, only slightly, with her eyes half-closed.

Damian summoned his courage and leaned in closer, they both closed their eyes. Just as they were about to close the gap, his hand was about to hold her check. Damian swore he felt her soft lips barely brush his when they heard Jason yell.

"AH! Get off her! NOPE NOPE NOPE!" Jason was a few meters away but both teens obeyed, embarrassed. Jason grabbed Marinette’s hand and quickly, but carefully, pulled his little sister away from Damian. "From now on, you two aren't allowed in the same room anymore. Except diner. Keep away from Nettie, Demon Brat."

Damian saw Jason's face, this wasn't just because he thought it was weird to see Damian try to date someone he saw as family- no, it was something else entirely. It was because he saw Marinette as too good, too pure for Damian.

Jason didn't want Marinette to be dragged into the mess that was Damian's life.

Jason didn't want Marinette to suffer because Damian didn't know how to deal with his emotions.

Jason didn't want Marinette to be hurt by Damian, he didn't want to see someone he loved hurt. It wasn't just because it was Damian, it was because he didn't want to see Marinette's heart get broken.

Damian, shockingly, backed off- hardly even acknowledging the girl on the few occasions they crossed paths. He wasn't outwardly rude like he was with his siblings but Marinette seemed to catch on. At first she was a little dejected but was adamant about keeping positive.

Jason spent as much time as possible with his little sister, making sure to watch movies, tour the city, and just hang out all the time. He also made sure that she got to know the rest of the family, except Damian. And the fourth robin let it happen, he kept to himself and let her spend time with everyone else.

And then family night reared it's ugly head.

Marinette was sitting with Alfred the Cat and Cass on the sofa, Jason on a chair near Marinette, waiting for everyone else to arrive for the movie.

The Parisian beamed when she met Kor'i and Mar'i, quickly bonding with both. Marinette was quickly dubbed Auntie Nettie by an Auntie Steph and Uncle Timmy. Dick was about to play the first movie when Kor'i spoke up.

"Where is the little D?"

"Yeah! Where's Uncle Dami?" A four year old Mar'i asked from her father's lap. Jason scoffed, he was about to speak when someone walked in.

"Has anyone seen Alfred the Cat?" Damian asked, before he saw Jason and Marinette. Damian was about to say never mind- noticing Alfred purring in Marinette's arms, but Mar'i beat him to it.

"Uncle Dami!" The half Tamaranian announced, jumping from the couch and flying into her uncle's arms. Marinette was quick to catch onto the families nightly activities and let them catch her talking to Tikki. Jason clearly wasn't happy, neither was Damian, but on the bright side they didn't have any secrets. Kor'i and Mar'i were briefly discussed but Marinette didn't pry.

"It's been forever, like a whole week! You have to come watch the movie with us, it's family night! You can sit next to Marinette! Isn't she pretty? And nice?" Mar'i chattered and waited for Damian to respond.

"Yes, she is very nice." Damian spoke as carried his niece to her father who gave him an encouraging smile before Damian sat between Marinette and Cass. Mar'i spoke up just before Dick could play the movie.

"And pretty! Right Uncle Dami? Isn't she really pretty? Like momma!" Kor'i gave her daughter a quick kiss on the cheek, distracting the girl from Damian and Marinette's panic- and Jason's low growl.

Dick played the movie and gently shushed his daughter, stopping her from asking Damian again. Telling her she did a good job and would get extra popcorn.

The movie was some children's story that Damian couldn't seem to pay attention to, all he could seem to think about was the Parisian next to him- cuddling Alfred the Cat with her knees practically tucked to her chest, her back to him.

Damian took notice of Marinette's drooping shoulders and yawns as the movie progressed, but he hadn't expected for her to suddenly turn and cuddle onto his side, grabbing his arm as she and Alfred slept. Jason clearly didn't like it but Marinette was immovable, sleeping peacefully against a tense Damian. The boy did everything in his power to not sink into the warm sofa and nap alongside her, exhausted. He fought his tired eyes as best he could but it was a losing battle.

Eventually the movie faded away, his head rested upon something soft.

Jason wanted to be mad, he wanted to move Marinette so she rested against him- she always used to as a little girl but he saw she was clinging to Damian, whether it was intentional or not. Jason knew Damian hadn't done anything to give Marinette reason to cuddle him, finally understanding that Jason just didn't want to see Marinette hurt. Unfortunately, neither could do anything about it. 

Jason also knew he couldn't blame Damian for passing out, knowing as well as anyone that finals and patrol were a bad mix but that didn't mean he didn't want to slap him for passing out and unconsciously cuddling with Marinette.

Alfred the cat eventually woke from his nap and moved from his warm spot between the two teenagers and left the room to do only God knows what. The sudden lack of warmth seemed to stir both Marinette and Damian. The Parisian whined softly as she nuzzled closer to Damian, her legs ended up across his lap as they snuggled closer. Jason clenched his fists and jaw before bringing his attention back to the movie, trying to think of what to do.

By the time the movie ended, Jason was at a loss- at some point Cass left the room so Damian and Marinette were literally lying on each other, limbs entangled as they slept, blissfully unaware of their compromising position. Everyone softly laughed and took pictures of Damian sleeping and Marinette lying carefully on top of him, his arms wrapped around her with her head tucked under his chin. Their their legs tangled.

"Jay, I'm sorry but they're so cute together. And they really seem to like each other, I know it's weird for you but let them be." Dick tried, he'd been rooting for them since Damian started to ask about how to start a conversation, lines you don't cross, how to tell if a subject is off limits. The first robin prayed to whatever god was out there that his brother would finally see that their dating wouldn't be the end of the world.

"I know." Jason noticed Damian back off when he realized why Jason didn't want them to date, it wasn't just because Damian was an ass, if something ever happened to Damian- Marinette would be a mess and he couldn't stand to see the broken look in her eyes ever again. Jason knew it was a shitty reason, she'd probably be a mess no matter what, but he couldn't help it. He just wanted to protect Marinette. Jason finally knew what to do, but until then he'd let them sleep.

Jason walked out of the room, annoyed- the brat won. Damn their stubbornness. Hopefully it would make Damian more bearable...

Damian woke up with the sun, but for once wanted to stay in bed. He was warm, and a calming, steady breathing tried to lull him back to sleep- wait. Why would he feel someone else's breathing?

Damian's eyes snapped open and scanned the room, he was lying in the living room with a blanket on him and- 'No. No. No. Of all the times to pass out, of all the people-'

Damian's mind went into overdrive trying to remember how he'd gone from sitting with Marinette leaning on him to falling asleep with her. He knew he was dead, but suddenly his mind focused on the even sound of her breathing, she was still sleeping- dead to the world. There was no reason to wake her, so Damian closed his eyes, pulled Marinette closer, and allowed himself to go back to sleep. Enjoying his last moments in the land of the living.

Something made a noise, Damian opened his eyes again. This time Marinette awoke with him, propping herself up on his chest and rubbing her eyes with a tired yawn.

"Good morning." Marinette froze at the sound of Damian's deep, rough, sleep-filled voice as she took in a messy haired, tired Damian. She blushed, hard, morning Damian was officially her favorite Damian.

"D-Damian- w-what happe- did I- I'm so sorry!" Marinette sat up, not thinking about what she was doing. She continued to apologize while Damian panicked, if Jason walked in right now- he'd die for the second time. Breaking the family record, sure, but that certainly wouldn't be worth it. Well... No, not worth it- unless someone brought him back again... No, no, Todd would likely make it painful. Definitely not worth it.

"Marinette-"

"No, this is totally my fault! I'm so sorry. I really didn't mean to fall asleep on you, you were probably really uncomfortable with me leaning on you like that!"

"Marinette really it's alri-"

"No, Damian! It's not alright, I- Jay probably got really mad at you, I'll- I'll talk to him make sure he knows it wasn't your fault."

"Marinette?" The Parisian seemed to be done with her ranting and was staring at Damian again, she for some reason, hadn't noticed earlier but Damian wasn't wearing a shirt. In Marinette's sleepy state she just stared unabashedly. Damian's voice seemed to get her attention.

"Perhaps you shouldn't sit like that..." Damian refused to call it what it was. Had he wanted to be more accurate, and he didn't, he would have asked her to stop straddling him.

Marinette froze, blushed, and then started whining in embarrassment. Her head in her hands. Damian was having a difficult time holding back his own blush but was managing alright.

"Marinette?" Damian asked, she peaked out from between her hands and realized she had yet to get off him, finally he sat up on his own and gently pushed her off him. They sat next to each other, Damian refused to look at Marinette in her beautifully flustered state.

Jason walked in with his arms crossed, he leaned against the door-frame.

"Awake are we?" He asked, not expecting an answer, he didn't get one.

"Well, Demon Spawn, let's just say your reputation is effectively ruined. Steph and Selina got more than enough pictures to get even you to blush." The two teenagers refused to look at Jason, he pinched the bridge of his nose, letting his annoyance surface.

"I can't even-" Damian waited for the inevitable outburst, for once. " I can't believe I'm fucking doing this- You two were cute or whatever but word of the wise, brat- hurt her and I'll kill you. Got it?" Both teenagers heads snapped up, Marinette blushed. Damian nodded a mischievous sparkle in his eyes.

'FINALLY' Was the only thing Damian thought in that moment before he began to plan how to ask her out. He needs to speak to Grayson again, unfortunately.

And with that, their banter and teases began again. This time there was no bribery to keep Damian's siblings quiet and no Jason to stop their kisses. The young couple went on dates, watched movies, laughed at the put off look Damian’s family would have when he said something awkwardly funny. Of course, Jason was still insistent on sibling bonding, stealing Marinette as often as possible- that became their new game: who could get Marinette for the day.

Of course, there were some close calls. Jason had walked in on Damian and Marinette kissing... for an extended period of time... he stood frozen and watched in horror as they made out on a chair in Damian's room, Marinette's hands in Damian's hair with his hands at her hips, keeping her pressed against him as her legs bracketed his hips.

Damian noticed Jason first, immediately pushing away and inwardly cursing. Marinette blushed furiously and had to stop Jason from killing Damian but her messy hair and slightly swollen lips didn't help.

Of course, everyone else thought it was hilarious.

As they say, all good things must come to an end. After three weeks of freedom from her class, their trip finally came to an end and so did Marinette's reunion. By the end of her stay Marinette knew why she'd be okay, from now on she had a family four times as big as before. The Parisian couldn't be happier: she reunited with her brother and has an adoring boyfriend. All she had to do now was survive the last few weeks of the school year before transferring to Mme Mandeleiev's class.

I’m gonna be okay, Marinette thought that to herself as they made their way to the airport. Damian didn't want her to leave, no one did, he held Marinette's hand while she spoke to Jason who promised to visit often.

Everyone hugged her goodbye or said so from a respectful distance before she passed through security and rejoined her class.Both Damian and Jason glared at the class in warning, they still seemed to be reeling from the discovery that the Italian was a liar. People called out to the girl, shouting apologies. Marinette just walked past as if she couldn’t hear a thing. 

And then she was gone. Damian and Jason pouted, they already missed her, luckily summer was right around the corner. They'd get her to visit soon, or if they had to they'd go to Paris.

After all, family is supposed to stick together. And despite their attempts at denying it, they were clingy.

[tessiete]

16 (“If you want, we could go together?”) or 46 (“Shut up, I am a delight!”) for Obi-Wan & Padme, but no pressure whatsoever <3 <3 <3

Pressure! Pressure! Pressure! Lots of pressure. You know how my vanity requires that everything I write be capital P Profound.

This was a lot of fun to write - I forgot how much I love Padme. Now I’m contriving how to have her and Satine in the same fic and see how different they are.

In the meantime, here’s 2k of Padme just staring at Obi-Wan. Hope you’re at work @tree-scapes 

AND NEVER DO HARM TO THE WORLD

She asks him before she’s certain of the wisdom in it, herself, and he looks at her as if he’s only certain of its absence.

“If you want,” she says, “We could go together?”

The hitch in his step makes her wince as they reach the top of the Temple steps. She’s trapped him now, she knows, and feels guilty, but there’s no way for her to withdraw without causing further injury to both their dignities.

“I only suggest it since I know it’s a burden to - to me,” she explains. “And my usual escort is indisposed.”

He smiles. It’s a stiff and awkward line, as though drawn across his face by the unpracticed hand of a child, but he bows, and acquiesces with grace.

“Of course, Senator,” he says. She’s senator again, though moments before with Masters Windu and Koon she’d been Padme, so she knows it’s not the company.

“If it’s no inconvenience. I wouldn’t want to impose on your schedule, if you’d only meant to go for a short -”

“It’s no inconvenience at all,” he insists. His smile is kinder now, his awkwardness eased by the desire to alleviate her own obvious discomfort. “It would be my pleasure.”

“Good. Then I will know to expect you,” she says. With one more shallow bow, and the press of his fingers to hers, she hurries away, anxious to escape the louring gaze of the Temple guardians, and Obi-Wan’s curious stare.

She expects that he will show up, as promised.

She expects he will be, in all ways, gracious and prepared.

She expects stilted conversation, and wonders how often her tongue will stray to speak of Anakin, hoping the wine and frizz won’t alleviate one problem only to create another.

She expects she will spend the evening regretting her impulsive invitation, and making him regret it, if he doesn’t already.

What she does not expect is to be met at her door by a man she hardly recognises.

She has known Obi-Wan Kenobi since she was a girl, and he, hardly more than a boy, though in her eyes even then he’d been a man well beyond the reach of her childish ambition. Met again, he’d seemed...not ancient - one could hardly call him that - but aged, perhaps. Somber. Solemn to the point of serenity. He had an authority of a kind she’d only seen in grandmothers and wild prey, a sort of amused resignation to the motions of life, and an understanding gained through loss and sorrow. Whatever it was, it was something very distant from her, as if he’d grown out while she’d been busy growing up.

But the man that stands before her now is young, and sparkling. And nervous. It is a side of him she’s not seen before, and it has her counting the distance of years in her head. Is it ten? Less than? Surely not more. Are they truly peers?

He wears a skirt of muted blue, with three deep pleats pressed the full length on his right side. The creams of his traditional tabards are replaced with a stiff white tunic, and a thigh-length jacket with wide sleeves that drapes soft as the sky over his shoulders and down his back. It is a curious mix of imposed structure and natural elegance.

“Jedi formalwear,” he explains beneath her curious inspection. His fingers twist at the inside of a sleeve where the fabric hangs just long enough to hide his hand. He extends his opposite arm to offer her proper support. “Shall we?”

“We shall,” she agrees, and instead of the more sophisticated and out-dated practice of simply laying her hand atop his, she tucks her arm beneath, and steps close until their arms are pressed between them, more like comrades than indifferent chaperones.

They stay that way until they reach the Feano Lyceum, Obi-Wan’s arm against hers. She is presented first, and his name follows. She thinks he may pull away here, in public, but his hold remains neither loose enough to encourage release, nor tight enough to prove her suspicions about his disquiet correct.

A few ambassadors and fellow diplomats nod in greeting at their arrival, but they are not questioned about their connection. This, Padme realises with some relief, and then worries that the Jedi may sense some of that and go looking for its source. She isn’t certain, yet, what lies within the power of the Force to provide. Anakin seems as attuned to her moods as she is at times, and then so oblivious at others that she thinks they must be total strangers. It would be unfortunate if Obi-Wan were to tend towards the former. If he knew about whom she thought of so often and so well...

It’s been six months since she’d wed her knight, and she’d heard lots about Obi-Wan second-hand, but only as a father, or an overly strict mentor. He is neither of these things tonight. And he is neither of these things to her. So what is Obi-Wan Kenobi?

A Jedi, certainly. Wise. Accomplished. Just. Driven. Demanding. These were all revealed to her by Anakin, and proved to her by history. But he’d said more she was less convinced of.

Stern? Perhaps, though she might instead say serious.

Aloof? Not that. Not judging by the way he leans into her at the approach of the senator from Alk’Lellish III who courts him with a lascivious flick of her tongue, and lingering prehensile limbs.

Cold? Not by the way he nudges her to draw her attention to the buffet table where two politicians abandon a vehement argument to fall into an enthusiastic embrace, stifling a smirk.

Pretentious? Not in how he coaxes her to try some sort of elegantly twisted hors d’oeuvres only to break out into genuine laughter as he watches the spice hit her tongue.

“You knew,” she accuses, trying in vain to wipe at her mouth with a synthcloth napkin in an elegant fashion.

“I might have,” he acknowledges, before mercifully passing over a cocktail from the bar. “It’s a White Knight. Made with nerf-milk. It’ll soothe the sting.”

She throws the drink back with the steel of a seasoned professional, and Obi-Wan’s brow rises in surprise.

“I’ve been in politics a long time,” she says, a warning in her tone.

“Ah,” he says, signalling for two more. “So have I.”

His own drink disappears as quickly as her first, and he calls for a flute of frizz while she sips at the Knight.

“I was under the impression you’d be above all this,” she says. “You know - as a Master of the Order.”

“I had similar delusions,” he agrees, taking a long draught of his drink. “However, it turns out there’s rather more politicking in times of war than of peace.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, it seems that now we are required to be paraded about as the face of the Republic at these things as often as possible. To show we are here. To demonstrate our investment. To prove that the Chancellor is doing something about the Separatist threat.”

He finishes that drink, and reaches for another passing by on a tray. Padme’s smile turns to a frown as she watches that one disappear nearly as rapidly.

“You sound as though you don’t approve,” she says.

Obi-Wan tenses beside her, and turns away to set his empty glass aside. She cannot see his face, so must read what she can in the rigid line of his back as he says, “I lost many friends on Geonosis.”

“I’m sorry.”

When he turns back he is smiling softly once more, and she can’t tell if it is the Knight or some otherworldly radiance of his own that makes him blur at the edges, disguising his hurt, and transforming his disgust into dust, swept away by the fine skirts, and elevated company.

“Don’t be,” he says, deliberately applying her apology to a far less serious wound. “That’s why I came tonight with you. I had hoped you might ease my way, and perform all necessary flattery for me.”

“Oh, I hardly think you need my help in that,” she says, rolling her eyes, content to follow him to safer ground. “Maybe only to keep your admirers at bay.”

A short, sharp exhalation of air, and he falls silent, looking away.

“Why, Master Kenobi,” she cries, entranced and in utter delight, “Are you blushing?”

“That would be rather undignified for someone of my rank,” he denies. “It’s only a flush from the heat of the room.”

“You are blushing!”

“I am not,” he says. “It’s the ventilation that’s lacking.”

She waits. He watches her out of the corner of his eye, until she catches his gaze and holds it. His lips twitch. She can see his facade begin to splinter. It only pushes her to a higher mirth, and she laughs outright as it gives way entirely, leaving them both breathless and gasping.

Their joy catches the interest of several nearby dignitaries, one of whom is the Lellish ambassador with the wandering appendages, and before Obi-Wan can revert back to the blandly pleasant stoic he plays at, she takes him by the hand and leads him to the floor.

“Dance with me,” she says.

His smile remains, though his head tilts in confusion.

“This doesn’t seem a particularly effective way to solicit political support,” he suggests.

“No,” she says. “Not at all. But then I don’t find myself particularly interested in politics tonight, do you, Master Kenobi?”

“Obi-Wan,” he corrects, eyes shining.

“I thought not,” she says, and a smirk winds its way across her lips like the arched spine of a smug felinx.

They dance one set, and then the next, twirling away in a flourish of colour and light the moment anyone steps too near, or looks too close, and for a time they cannot be touched, and when they are spent, they fall laughing, out of line, upon each other.

“Anakin won’t believe this!” she says, her voice still rising with the excitement of the music. She doesn’t realise what she’s said until Obi-Wan’s eyes turn cloudy, and a wedge forms between his brows as he looks on her with a strange regard. “Next time I see him,” she amends. “I’ll tell him your secret.”

The Jedi coughs to clear some stray thought from his throat before it can be said aloud, and looks out over the room.

“Yes, I - I’m sure he’ll be amused,” he agrees. “Though we have attended many functions such as this before. Growing up. On a variety of worlds. It can be of little surprise to him - it seems that such civilized negotiations are common everywhere.”

Padme settles her skirts, and treads cautiously. “I suppose that’s true,” she allows.

“Though I imagine he little suspects that I am capable of such delight.”

“He has never said that,” she says, unwilling to slander Anakin even in her denial of him.

“But evidently, he thinks it,” Obi-Wan says, then sighs, gathering himself again. “Forgive me,” he says. “I find myself more and more uncertain what Anakin thinks, and feels. He doesn’t come to me as - Forgive me. You’re much too young, but I suppose one day, when you have your own younglings eaten up by adulthood you’ll feel it, too.”

“You’re not so old as all that, Obi-Wan,” she chides. “Hardly older than me, and not much older than Anakin. Certainly not old enough to be his father.”

“I was his master,” he corrects. “And now that he is knighted, I’m not certain what I am, anymore. He is changing faster than I am.”

She watches him as he watches the room spin, whirling by him in a wild array of colour and form that he cannot possibly follow - or if he can, then he is even more distant, even more removed from her ability to reckon. He is different. He is set apart, even from Anakin, and she suddenly wonders if that is because of the Force, or because of himself. Is it he who feels removed? He who feels shut out? He who feels divested of his place in the world, defined only by the title others call him and lacking the distinction of earnest comprehension? It isn’t enough, she thinks, to see in him what Anakin sees, or what she might expect. She needs to see him for himself, and appreciate him for that.

“His brother then,” she concludes, and she takes his hand. “And my friend, whatever else besides, no matter what he thinks.”

“If you say so,” he says, and she can feel him yield beneath the pressure of her hand, and the firmness of her conviction.

“I absolutely do. Let’s not think of him. Let’s be whatever we are right now. Let’s be delighted and delightful together, and have just one more dance.”

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Meeting and Dating Joey Donner

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

- It was a little known fact that nearly every girl in your school wanted to date or at least screw Joey Donner. You were no exception but at least you could tell he was a total ass and didn’t actually try to get with him.

- You acted uninterested, convinced yourself at times that you were uninterested yet deep down you knew you secretly were attracted to him even if it was just the surface you were attracted to.

- But you’re disinterest is what drew Joeys attention to you in the first place. As everyone else swooned you completely ignored him and talked to “losers” instead, hiding away from attention and for the most part wearing clothes which left nearly everything to the imagination. Though to be fair, you woke up at five in the morning and stayed in school till two; frankly you just weren’t in the mood for heels.

- He wasn’t entirely compelled just by that. No, his real interest towards you started when a friend of yours decided to give you a makeover and plead with you to try it out for a week just to see what would happen. Since you were equally curious you gave it a try, even though you knew it was going to be a hassle.

- Thats why early one morning you arrived at school dressed in a v-neck top, a tight skirt, heels, hair perfectly done and more makeup than usual. To say he was enticed would be an understatement.

- “Had you always been so hot?” Was a common question among your peers but most didn’t even realize it was you until halfway through the day. Even Cameron and Michael; your friends, were having trouble not staring at your cleavage. Boys were swarming you to say the least.

- It was kind of fucked up to have the same people who made fun of you throughout middle school and high school now open doors and pull out chairs for you.

- You and Joey were lab partners so to an extent you were forced to interact for at least a good ten minutes a day. A lot of girls were jealous of you for this exact reason but you didn’t pay them any mind.

- It was when you were sat at your desk pulling on gloves to cut open frogs that Joey actually got his first look at you, well, the new you. He genuinely thought you were transferred and a new girl was sitting in your place. Sure he thought you were good looking before but every girl looks a bit better with makeup and some tight clothes, at least to guys like him.

- He slowly sat down next to you, eyes trained on your face and body as he went. You paid him no mind as you wrote down your notes and got to work. He sat there staring at you for a few moments before shaking his head and getting a hold of himself. He couldn’t actually get with a “loser” like you; it would ruin his reputation.

- He was bewildered when he found himself actually starting to like you. You, the girl who was a nobody, the girl that half the school didn’t know existed and the girl that, regardless of all that, still didn’t like him. You were weirdly endearing for it; hot even. He actually had to work to gain your attention.

- Joey doesn’t really know how to go after girls that he doesn’t have leverage on. Like if a girl likes him it’s easy to score with her but what does he do if they seem to hate his guts?

- He tried flirting, complimenting you and being sweet before he asked you out for the first time. You rejected him, quite brutally might he add and so he had to take a different plan of action. His second plan was to annoy the hell out of you, getting you riled up so that you’d give him the attention he wanted from you, even if it was given to him with a glare.

- After an especially rough week with him borderline bullying you he made the mistake of asking you out again. That’s how you and him got into an insult match in an empty hallway of the school after classes ended.

- A moment of stillness came over the two of you after a particularly heated exchange of words. When all of a sudden his hands were cupping your cheeks and your lips were smashing together.

- It was rough, passionate, heated. You didn’t exactly know why it was happening but to hell if you weren’t enjoying it. So long story short you ended up making out with the cocky most popular guy in the school who only moments before you were calling a pompous ass.

- When you came to your senses you realized he had you pinned against the wall and was thoroughly enjoying himself. The two of you pulled apart to catch your breath and were silent for a while, still close in proximity. Both of you leaned in and shared a much tamer kiss before he spoke.

“I’m an asshole, I get it, but that was great and you can’t deny it, alright? There’s something between us and you know it so why don’t we see how this plays out. Let me take you out and make everyone in this town jealous that I have you.”

- Well maybe it was worth a shot, right? You pulled him into another kiss which he smiled into like a giddy fool even if he wouldn’t ever admit it.

- So that’s how you became the hottest couple in school and started living out the dreams of all your classmates.

- He has a major soft spot for you.

- He’s really cuddly when you’re alone. He’s like a totally different person.

- Lots of gifts and dates people your age shouldn’t be able to afford.

- Being backstage at his modeling and commercial jobs.

- He’s jealous as hell, he hates boys looking at you but at the same time loves it because he’s a smug asshole. It makes him proud that people want what only he has.

- He’s lowkey possessive.

- You have to wear his jacket in classes you don’t have with him.

- Hickeys and constant pda.

- When he’s bored he tends to write his name on your skin. At some point he’ll get you a necklace with his name on it and a ring for himself that has yours engraved on it. He probably wouldn’t even tell you about his ring, you’d just notice it for yourself one day and get a little misty eyed.

- He’ll randomly grab a part of your body and start drawing on it. He reserves dicks for other people though.

- Once you’re in his car he’s eating your face. His lips are on yours and they aren’t letting up until they get their fill.

- He likes to grab your face and pull you into kisses.

- His arm is constantly wrapped around your shoulders or waist.

- You’re on his lap like 90% of the time.

- Even though he’s got a big ego, he actually gets pretty flustered when you compliment him on things other than his looks. He doesn’t know how to react at first but he tries his best to play it off and act cool.

- Someway, somehow, you’re incorporated into his workouts whether it be you sitting on his back or underneath him during pushups or you being used as a bench press. It makes things more entertaining for him and lets him show off.

- I feel like his household was the kind where money substituted actual relationships so this boy is probably hella attention starved. The first time you showed him innocent affection he was kinda confused.

“What are you doing?”

“Loving you.”

“...alright.”

- He’s an asshole but it’s somehow endearing?

- Anyone who comes close to bothering you is getting his ass kicked either by him or someone he’s paid to do so.

- He’s a pretty demanding person, he wants your attention, affection, anything you can give him. You’re basically inseparable.

- Hugs from behind with his head resting on your shoulder.

- He’s a sexual guy and proud of it so undoubtedly sex will be a part of your relationship.

- It gets him all hot and bothered when you wear his clothes.

- Him “accidentally” touching your boobs and butt. Just blatant groping yet he’ll probably apologize like it was a mistake.

- Wearing one of his rings, most likely on a chain around your neck.

- Flowers and cute but ‘macho’ notes.

- Fighting usually ends up being his fault because he’s a cocky bastard and won’t ever admit he’s wrong. It also doesn’t help that he thinks he can do whatever he wants.

- You tend to give him the cold shoulder. It annoys the everloving fuck out of him because he’s only just now gotten used to and started to rely on your affection. When you’re not giving it to him there’s a lot of tension and stress in his life. People in school suffer since he takes out all his annoyance on them.

- After a little while he’ll man up and apologize, holding out his arms for a hug once he’s finished. He both smugly smile and melts like butter when you wrap your arms around him.

- If you massage his scalp he’ll turn to putty in your hands.

- Skincare with him. Masks, creams, etc; he probably pampers himself more than you do.

- Likes laying his head in your lap and having you read to him.

- Your teachers love you since you tame him in the classes you share with each other.

- Getting him to stop picking on people.

- Helping him with schoolwork. He’s not dumb he just lacks the motivation and focus to actually go through with and finish his assignments.

- He tries his best to calm down with his drinking and partying because he knows you hate when he’s drunk.

- He likes randomly picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder.

- Pestering you is a game he’s good at and one he enjoys.

- His parents probably like you fine enough but your parents probably don’t like him. Not many parents would unless perhaps you just show your mother a picture of him.

- He’s definitely attempted to bribe your teachers into putting you guys in the same classes, teams, and lab groups.

- When he’s alone and actually tries to do well he can be pretty good at drawing.

- If you mention that you like a certain kind of shirt on him he’ll magically own like a dozen more over night.

- He really likes when you gush over and compliment him. It gives him the confidence that he really didn’t need but greatly appreciates. Or maybe it’s just a boost to his already inflated ego.

- Whenever you’re cold all you have to do is snuggle into him, he’s like a human heater and is all smiles when you randomly bury yourself into his chest.

- No one is allowed to interrupt the two of you at lunch without a proper reason unless they want to be made a fool of in front of everybody.

- He has a hard time saying he loves you because he wants to keep up his tough guy reputation but his heart swells everytime you say it. Deep down you know he does.

- You’re the power couple of the school.

[itsmattsunshinehere]

ello!!!! May i request some headcanons for oikawa, iwaizumi and akaashi where fem s/o likes to overthink and she distance herself from them then the boys notice it so they confront her abt it???? end it with fluff plssss

Sure sweetie! Sorry if it took so long but I’ve been very busy in the last few weeks >.<

Anyway, thanks for your request, hope you like it! 😘💘

-L

Oikawa Tooru / Iwaizumi Hajime / Akaashi Keiji x reader.

Oikawa Tooru

Being Oikawa's s/o isn't as easy as it may seem.

Oikawa, although an extremely sweet and caring girlfriend, needs a lot of attentions.

He needs someone to support him at every game, always reminding him not to overwork.

But the most stressful thing in your relationship is his fandom.

None of his previous girlfriends have ever been accepted by his fans, who rather never stopped from making bad comments and they obviously included you in their blacklist.

You always try not to show how much you suffer from their behaviour, you don't want to annoy your boyfriend with these stupid things.

It would hurt him a lot and you don't want him to deconcentrate and waste his time on you rather than for studying or his beloved volleyball.

One day, once you finished your classes, you went as usual to your locker to lay down your books and change your shoes and only after reaching Oikawa in the gym.

But when you opened the locker, a dozen of sheets full of insults written in capital letters fell from it.

You felt their hate in every single letter, and you immediately wondered what you could have done so wrong for them to hate you so much.

You immediately went home with tears in your eyes without even telling your boyfriend.

You really didn’t want to bother him or being a distraction, like they said.

Obviously Oikawa left you something like 16 calls and 25 texts.

He was really worried.

Especially when for days you avoided talking to him or answering his calls and replying his messages.

He thought something bad had happened to you, that something was wrong, or even worse that you wanted to break up with him because you didn't love him anymore.

So, a few days later, he showed up in front of your door and seeing him desperate because you weren't talking to him anymore you could hold back anymore and you burst into tears, telling hik everything.

He hugged you right away, holding you tight and telling you that you were a dummy and that you should have warned him right away.

From that day on, you have no longer heard any bad comments behind you or received any kind of threats or insults.

Iwaizumi Hajime

You're a pretty quiet girl and you tend to think too much before you make a decision.

This side of your personality has never bothered Iwaizumi, if anything your boyfriend has always found you very cute and sweet.

Even if it takes centuries for you to choose what to wear because maybe it’s cold outside or maybe people could judge you by your clother, or maybe Hajime doesn’t like that skirt or...

“Overthinker” is your second name.

You usually don't go out with him and Oikawa not because you can't stand his friend, but because you're afraid to bother them and being the annoying girlfriend.

You’re always afraid to make him and everyone else uncomfortable and Iwaizumi knows it well, that's why he always remind you that you do not have to worry that much, mostly when you’re with him and his friends

(spoiler: his friends like you and don’t get how Iwaizumi got to date such a pretty girl).

But after yet another defeat against Shiratorizawa, you saw him in a really bad mood that you didn't even have the courage to go talk to him and cheering him up.

He left the court with such disappointment and frustration drawn on his face that you weren’t even that sure to send him a message.

Then your friend pushed you to the team, convincing you that as a good girlfriend would do, you had to help him.

So you got out of the stands a little fearful and waited impatiently for him.

When you saw him get out you called him immediately but then he turned his head to look at you with swollen eyes, giving you quick ”talk t’you later” while leaving with his team.

You felt so bad that you immediately felt tears around your eyes.

You thought he was tired of you and that you were only a distraction from his studies and his sport and that if he wanted to go to Nationals you couldn't be together anymore.

You came to the conclusion that this was your end and you could do nothing: you took your purse and your phone and ran home without telling anyone.

You passed all day in your room, thinking how much you already missed your boyfriend and that you’ll never be able to live without him (you like to be a little overdramatic).

At the end of the day you hadn't even received a text from him and you took his silence as a definitive answer to all your questions: it was over and he probably didn't even want talk to you.

You spent a week ignoring everyone, turning off your phone notifications and forbidding you to go read all the texts you exchanged in the past months or even answer calls, sure they were from your friends.

Contrary to what you thought, it was Iwaizumi, who had tried to call you every time he could, because you fucking disappeared for a whole week off the face of the planet: you never answered him and every time he came to your class or your house looking for you, your friends always told him that you were at home with flu and your mother, trying to help you, always made up some excuse to not let him in.

Then one morning, he waited for you in front of school gates to “steal” you from your friends and talk to you properly, wondering what was wrong and why you had ignored him for more than a week.

When you told him that you had no problems accepting your breakup, but needed some time by yourself, he looked at you confused, asking you when did you break up, since he was unaware of it.

You explained him that since he didn't text you back, you thought he didn't want to have to deal with you anymore. Iwaizumi picked up your phone and showed you all his missed calls and all his messages that you ignored, telling you he has no intention to leave you.

You immediately burst into tears, hugging him and calling yourself stupid, while Iwaizumi stroked your hair and made you promise to never draw to any hasty conclusions again.

Akaashi Keiji

Being a caring girl, you often worry about how others can feel.

And that's the main reason why Akaashi fell in love with you.

Seeing you worried about Bokuto and always helping him even when you're not a manager of the volleyball club, always bringing him something to eat and drink after a practice cause maybe he‘s hungry...

It's all these little things, the good mornings and the good nights you send him every day, reminding him to eat and drink water... it makes him feel really loved.

You always worry if it’s everything okay or if anyone around you doesn't feel uncomfortable qnd for that, it's normal for you to always think too much and be afraid to bother with your attitude.

You're afraid of being sticky and that one day your boyfriend will get tired of you and find someone that could give him more space.

Akaashi, however, is always nice to you and every day he lets you know how much he loves tou and how proud he is to have a girl like you.

But days can’t be always good, especially when you have to look after a child with sudden changes of mood.

One day, after a very stressful practice with Bokuto, Akaashi completely forgot about you waiting for him outside the gym and went straight home instead.

When you met Yuki, unaware that your boyfriend had already gone home, you ask her where your boyfriend was and she told you that Akaashi has already left for a while.

Of everything, you were definitely not expecting this to happen, mostly from Akaashi, always kind towards you.

You thank Yuki and go home instead, but on the way back, you can't help but thinking over what you might have done that annoyed him so much that he didn't want to make his way home you.

Obviously not wanting to annoy your boyfriend you pretended as nothing happened, rather trying to spend as little time as possible with him.

Not because you were angry but because you thought he needed more space and it was better if you didn’t look for him, stopping instead to send him messages for a while.

Obviously Akaashi didn’t understand your behavior and immediately came to you to talk about it, but every time you avoid the conversation or make up an excuse and run away to not face him.

Desperate Akaashi seeks advice in Bokuto.

Bad choice.

That's how some days after you find him in front of your house with a box of chocolates, knocking at your door nonstop.

When you open the door, he doesn't even give you time to say anything: he apologizes for anything he's done and begs you not to leave him cause damn HE LOVES YOU SO MUCH and even if he's not ready for a breakup, he’ll accept your decision anyway.

But please TALK TO HIM BOY IS DYING OF ANXIETY !!

When you explain to him that you simply thought you had become too sticky and that it was better to leave your spaces, he hugs you and squeezes you tightly.

Baby boy missed you so much 🥺.

"Please babe don't ever take decisions all by yourself."