#the best thing about black hair Ash is the variety

[kindahoping4forever]

Giggling and twirling my hair like a teen girl over black hair Ash, that man with black hair is a completely different person and I love him with every ounce of my being 😍😍

Black hair Ash... oh this guy? Yeah he was alright (jk my actual everything)

[geturnsblogs]

Exploring the Meaning Behind Cremation Jewelry

Losing a loved one is never easy, and finding ways to honor and remember them can bring comfort during the grieving process. One way to keep a loved one close is through cremation jewelry. This unique type of jewelry holds a small amount of a loved one's ashes, allowing them to be carried with you wherever you go. But beyond its practical purpose, cremation jewelry also holds a deeper meaning. In this article, we'll explore the significance behind cremation jewelry and the different types available.

What is Cremation Jewelry?

Cremation jewelry, also known as memorial jewelry or remembrance jewelry, is a type of jewelry that holds a small amount of a loved one's ashes. It can come in various forms, such as pendants, rings, bracelets, and even keychains. The ashes are typically placed inside a small compartment within the jewelry, which can be sealed to keep them secure.

The History of Cremation Jewelry

Cremation jewelry has been around for centuries, with evidence of its use dating back to ancient Rome. During this time, it was common for people to wear lockets containing a lock of hair or a small amount of ashes from a loved one. In the Victorian era, mourning jewelry became popular, with people wearing pieces made from materials such as jet, onyx, and black enamel to symbolize their grief.

Today, cremation jewelry has evolved to include a wider range of styles and materials, making it a more personal and meaningful way to remember a loved one.

The Meaning Behind Cremation Jewelry

Cremation jewelry holds a special significance for those who wear it. It serves as a physical reminder of a loved one and can bring comfort during times of grief. Here are some of the meanings behind different types of cremation jewelry:

Cremation Jewelry Cross

A cross is a symbol of faith and can hold a special meaning for those who wear it. Cremation jewelry crosses can be a way to honor a loved one's religious beliefs and keep them close to your heart.

Tree of Life Cremation Jewelry

The tree of life is a powerful symbol that represents the interconnectedness of all living things. It can also symbolize growth, strength, and the cycle of life and death. Tree of life cremation jewelry can be a meaningful way to remember a loved one and their place in the world.

Cremation Jewelry with Engravings

Many cremation jewelry pieces can be engraved with a loved one's name, initials, or a special message. This personalization adds an extra layer of meaning to the jewelry and can serve as a reminder of the unique bond shared with the deceased.

Types of Cremation Jewelry

Cremation jewelry comes in a variety of styles and materials, allowing you to choose a piece that best represents your loved one and their personality. Here are some of the most popular types of cremation jewelry:

Pendants

Pendants are the most common type of cremation jewelry. They can come in various shapes and sizes, such as hearts, crosses, and even animals. Pendants can be worn on a chain around the neck or added to a charm bracelet.

Rings

Cremation rings are a beautiful way to remember a loved one. They can be worn on any finger and come in a range of styles, from simple bands to more intricate designs.

Bracelets

Cremation bracelets are a popular choice for those who want to keep their loved one close at all times. They can come in the form of bangles, cuffs, or charm bracelets, and can be worn on the wrist or ankle.

Keychains

For those who prefer a more discreet way to carry their loved one's ashes, cremation keychains are a great option. They can be attached to keys, purses, or backpacks, allowing you to keep your loved one close wherever you go.

Choosing the Right Cremation Jewelry

When choosing cremation jewelry, it's essential to consider the style and material that best represents your loved one. You may also want to think about the type of jewelry they would have liked to wear. Here are some tips to help you choose the right cremation jewelry:

Consider Their Personality

Think about your loved one's personality and interests. Did they have a favorite color or symbol? Did they have a particular style of jewelry they always wore? Choosing a piece that reflects their personality can make it even more meaningful.

Think About the Material

Cremation jewelry can come in a variety of materials, such as gold, silver, and stainless steel. Consider which material best represents your loved one and their style.

Decide on a Style

As mentioned earlier, cremation jewelry comes in various styles, from pendants to rings to keychains. Think about which style would be most meaningful for you and your loved one.

Caring for Cremation Jewelry

Cremation jewelry is a precious and meaningful item, and it's essential to care for it properly. Here are some tips for caring for your cremation jewelry:

Keep it Clean

To keep your cremation jewelry looking its best, clean it regularly with a soft cloth. Avoid using harsh chemicals or abrasive materials, as they can damage the jewelry.

Store it Safely

When not wearing your cremation jewelry, store it in a safe place, such as a jewelry box or pouch. This will help protect it from damage and keep it secure.

Avoid Wearing it in Water

To prevent damage, it's best to avoid wearing cremation jewelry in water, such as when swimming or showering. This will help preserve the jewelry and keep it looking its best.

In Conclusion

Cremation jewelry is a beautiful and meaningful way to remember a loved one. It holds a special significance and can bring comfort during times of grief. With a variety of styles and materials to choose from, you can find a piece that best represents your loved one and their unique personality. By caring for your cremation jewelry properly, you can keep it looking beautiful for years to come and continue to honor your loved one's memory.

[amive2567]

Flower crown headcanons

Characters: Mina Ashido, Katsuki Bakugou, Shouto Todoroki, Izuku Midoryia, Momo Yaoyorozu

Warning: flowers, fluff, mention of blood (because of roses), swearing (because of Bakugou), might be OOC, not really proofread

Disclaimer: My Hero Academia and the characters belong to Kohei Horikoshi.

Summary: Making flower crowns with them.

Quirk: not mentioned

A/N: It's my first time that I write headcanons. I hope you will enjoy it. The reader is in a developed relationship with them. The reader is gender neutral.

Masterlist

Mina Ashido:

If you suggest making each other flower crowns, she is totally up for it

Despite you suggested it, she'll drag you out of the dorms to going to pick flowers

The two of you end up on a large flower field

Since she is a stylish icon, she knows which color will suit you and your personality.

Will search for perfect flowers that match with your outfit that you are wearing

She puts her whole heart into the crown

will use geberas to symbolize that you make everything more beautiful

also a big fan of primroses (Idk why, but I feel like she would like them)

If she gives you the finished flower crown and you put it on, she will definitely shoot thousands of pictures. To use the best (you smiling brightly) as a background

every time she will look at the picture, her heart swells up with love

She will remember that day so clearly that every time she thinks of it, it feels like she is sitting with you in this large flower field, with the sun warming both of you and the smell of grass and flowers surrounding you.

Katsuki Bakugou:

"What? I don't do bullshit like that." was his first phrase as you mentioned to do some flower crowns

You annoy him until he finally gives in

"If it makes you happy dumbass."

You drag him through Musutafu until you finally find a park with a variety of different flowers

Acts like he isn't interested but thinks it's endearing that you are so passionate about flower crowns

You start to pick some flowers, while you are at it, Bakugou waits with his hand in his pocket until your done

"You can't just stand there Katsu. You should also pick some flowers."

Will scoff at first but eventually gets going

His parents are designers, so he knows what color suit you

The flower crown that you make for him contains red chrysanthemums, cloves, and a bit of lavender

he uses magnolias, zinnias, and some daisies for your flower crown

If even one stalk breaks off, he will make everything new and probably freak out (so prepare for a lot of swearing)

He is gifted, so even if he has never done this, his flower crown will be stunning

when you put your crown on his ash blond, spiky hair, a slight blush will creep up his cheeks

He will keep this flower crown so safe and wears it when no one is looking. Just to remember the wonderful day the two of you had

When the flowers wither, he is sad and gives you vague indications that he wants to do the whole thing again

Shouto Todoroki:

The two of you had a date on a flower field that Todoroki found one day

It reminded him of you, and so he took you to the spot

The bright colors of the flowers made him clear that you are the most colorful flower in his life and that you made his life more colorful as well

Since sitting in the sun and talking about everything and nothing got a bit boring for you, you decided to make him a flower crown

"What are doing, darling?"

"I am picking flowers to make you a flower crown."

His stoic face will turn into a questioning look, and you explain with such passion what a flower crown is that Todoroki will fly on cloud 9

His face lights up, and he begins to search for flowers

As you try to pick some red roses, you got poked by one, and you start bleeding a little

Shouto noticed your short hiss in pain and is immediately at your side

will check if everything's fine

he kisses your wounded finger

"A kiss will hopefully make the pain go away."

"It's perfectly fine now. Thank you."

The two of you will finish and hand each other the crowns you made

Todorokis crown is a bit loose, but luckily the flowers stick together

The flower crown that you made fits his hair

To finish the date, you took a picture of the two of you and made it your profile picture on (favorite messenger app)

Momo Yaoyorozu:

The two of you went for a walk

You passed a flower field, and you got an idea

"Should we make each other a flower crown?"

"I would love to."

With that, you got going and picked the most beautiful flowers for your love

The flowers you pick represent the love you feel towards her and that you trust her

She picked flowers that reminded them of you

As you finished, you hid the flower crown behind your back

"Alright, close your eyes," you told her

She closed her black eyes and waited for your next move

You put the flower crown on her head while you tried not to mess up her high ponytail

You used your selfie camera on your cell phone as a mirror

"Open your eyes."

She opened them, and you smiled widely at her

"You look stunning, babe."

She also smiled and handed you your crown

"You also look ravishing, my love."

The two of you wore the crowns for the rest of the day

Izuku Midoryia:

The two of you were training outside since the weather got slowly better

Well, at least you tried to train, but you couldn't help yourself and stare at your boyfriend

As he noticed your staring he blushed and tried to cover his face

"Why are you staring at me like this?"

"Because you're handsome."

His blush deepened and you smile at his reaction

"You know what would make it even better? A flower crown"

You searched around the area and found some daisies

With careful movements, you knotted the stalks together

After you finished you handed the simple crown to your boyfriend

"Thanks, honey."

He put it on, and you took a photo immediately

This was going to be your new wallpaper on your phone

On that day, he didn't let the flower crown fall from his head

He wore the crown until the flowers withered

On your next date, he prepared two flowers crowns for the both of you since you loved them so much

Meaning of the flowers:

daisies: trust

red roses: passionated love

magnolias: Symbolism is grace, beauty, true love, purity, strength from the depths.

zinnias: loyalty

red chrysanthemums:Love

cloves: In red they symbolize strong passion, in white eternal loyalty

lavender:loyalty

primroses: often seen as representations of youth and everlasting existence.

geberas: "They make everything more beautiful!"

[ivyprism]

Rosaline, Kassidy, and Verdana (Fellswap Amaranth)

Kylee - Fellswap Amaranth Kassidy

Takes place of no one

Appearance: She's ten years old! She maintains her skeleton form as her preferred form. Her magic is a shade of yellow. Therefore, her eye lights and magic are green. She is roughly 4'7". She has a larger, more jagged crack on her right eye socket and cracks on her torso and arms.

Her preferred form is her human form. She has very pale skin and yellow eyes. She has long black hair. She has a petite physique. She's 4'7". (Basically this: https://picrew.me/image_maker/79302/complete?cd=yGahmXWhlL)

She wears this:

(But Amaranth colors!!!)

Personality: In contrast to her counterparts, she is very warm, loving, and kind. She has a tendency to be shy and withdrawn. She adores and cares for her older sister and would go to great lengths to keep her with her alive. She is a pacifist who is afraid of hurting others. She looks up to and adores her sister. She has no recollection of her biological mother and prefers never to know her. She simply wishes to strengthen her bond with her father. She is undergoing extensive therapy to help her overcome her trauma. She is a big fan of miniatures and models. She is a bit of a social butterfly, depending on the situation.

Theme: Waterfall by Toby Foxx (Lyrics by Jenny) https://youtu.be/qUAwEaYh2kQ

Rae - Fellswap Amaranth Rosaline

Takes place of no one.

Appearance: She favors her human form. She is fourteen years old. Her eyes are a shade of green because her magic is green. She has extremely pale skin and decently long white hair (commonly down and unbrushed). She has a petite physique. She is 5'4" in this form. (Basically this: https://picrew.me/image_maker/1272810/complete?cd=fkKSc3q6bj)

Her skeleton form looks similar to Kylee. She has green eye lights and magic in this form. Her ecto matches her magic too. She has a mild crack on her ribs.

She wears this:

Personality: She can be gentle, sweet, forgiving, and loving, but only to a point. She is a huge fan of Tomoyo and Juno. When someone tries to kill her, she has none of the fear that a normal teen would have. She is a huge fan of animals, plants, and a variety of other things. She makes an effort to be kind and to show kindness to those in need. She, on the other hand, isn't afraid to hurt someone in order to protect her family and friends. She is confident in her decisions and in herself. She wishes to assist her sister in her endeavors and does her best to assist whenever possible. She is extremely daring, but she usually comes out unscathed. She also loves dogs and can defend herself to a point.

Theme: Hold onto You by Natewantstobattle https://youtu.be/k6osNk269vA

Vincent - Fellswap Amaranth Verdana

Takes place of no one.

Appearance: He's a tall skeletons with cracks in his skull. He's 6'3" tall man with green magic. (Basically this: https://picrew.me/image_maker/956796/complete?cd=ODXasT9fGC)

He wears this:

Personality: He's a fierce and protective father. He was killed by his ex-wife and was unable to protect his children. He is a kind man who cares about his children. He'd go to great lengths to protect his kids. He's confident, astute, and astute. He assists Elric and Alexandra by volunteering at animal shelters and putting his scientific knowledge to use. He wants his daughters to make more friends, partly so that they will be more social. He's a socialite with a lot of charisma. He is working on forming and fixing his relationship with his daughters. He becomes more hostile to people who hurt his daughters.

Theme: Nothing by From Ashes to New https://youtu.be/ZpcfTebcNkk

-----------

Fellswap Amaranth is my AU!

@okay-kioko / @kiokodoodles @the1920sisntaphasemom @underfell-crystal @913cell

[the-ghost-king]

time for me to share a good™️ headcanon: will and nico love to steal each other’s clothes but their massive size difference makes it so obvious that they’re doing it. nico’s shirts are almost croptops on will and will’s sweaters are practically a dress on nico bc will is like 6’2 and nico’s like 5’5

Anon! Anon! Yes, you. You get it.

I don’t really know what you wanted as a response to this but I felt inspired for the first time in some 10 months so I gifted you a one shot below the “read more”. I’ll also upload it to Ao3 with a link in the notes...

Anyhow Anon, I hope you enjoy it! I got a little off topic but reflective fluff is always good!

If you would have asked Will what he wanted out of life as a kid you probably would have gotten an answer that was something like “a chance to actually go and live life as it was meant to be” or maybe “to be happy, pretty, and stupid”. 

He didn’t dare to hope for more, demigods didn’t live long lives, and being involved in a major battle at thirteen didn’t do wonders in regards to establishing confidence in your survival. As for the “pretty and stupid” part of his answer, it wasn’t that Will had ever hated being smart, he just hated the disconnect different intelligence levels caused in peer groups and society; being smart was hard, sure for school purposes it was nice, but that intelligence means you’re constantly thinking and so often so much of the world seems so dull and petty. Will had been lucky enough to be blessed with decent looks, moving through the world was made easy in at least that regard, but he wished he could live without thinking so much because so often he could only see so much awful in the world. 

Thirteen year old Will wouldn’t have dared hope for anything more, he wouldn’t have dared hope for anything else more than a decade or so of normal life beyond camp and a chance at an easy life for those few years. When fourteen year old Will got a depression diagnosis he wouldn’t say he was surprised, he would have been annoyed but he hadn’t really felt much of anything in years. (”Atypical depression” The doctor had said, “likely clinical”)  A few different types of anti-depressants and a few months of therapy things started feeling okay, better at least. Fifteen came and went, he tried to go off the pills and didn’t quite get there, but his dose got lowered which Will supposed was nice. 

In the months of early 16, Nico di Angelo stumbles into his life; exhausted and melting under the pressure of the universe, he makes friends with death. It isn’t much, but Will remembers him from when they were kids back before any major fights. He remembers hearing about Nico running off and he felt bad for not having made a continued effort to get to know him. He felt bad when he left after the Battle of Manhattan too, they’d prepped bodies for their departure together and Will had gotten hung up in the infirmary (he had been one of the last Apollo campers and he was the only one with medical training). In some ways, Will supposed he was making up for those lost years when he didn’t have time to befriend Nico as he would have liked, it made him feel like he was at least trying.

In the beginning things were undeniably rocky, Nico was constantly hooked to machines just so Will could guarantee he wouldn’t die overnight. Even on Nico’s first night in the infirmary he had struggles with sleep, the bed wasn’t comfortable enough and after trying a large variety of options Will had hauled Nico and all of his equipment out to the porch on the back of the infirmary and they slept there for those three days (which turned into two weeks), wrapped up in jackets and in a pile of blankets beneath camp’s fall skies.

Within a few months, they fell in love. 

Okay listen, people can call Will ridiculous all they want- but love at first sight is real and he experienced it. He didn’t know it but the day he met Nico and looked into the dark browns of his eyes, he thought something about how his eyes looked like ash from the fireplace at Mama’s house, or how they looked like the soil that his windowsill plants grew from. If you would have asked Will what he thought of Nico the very first time they’d met, he would have told you something about how his eyes were “big, dark, and round like a baby cow”. What Will really meant is that Nico reminded him of the family ranch house he grew up in, he meant he looked like home. 

At the time Will just hadn’t known that was what love felt like, but when he figured it out one day teaching Nico how to play Hold ‘em on the back porch of the infirmary with a light breeze and setting sun as they settles down for bed; he knew one thing, he didn’t want anything more than to make Nico happy and he hoped that he could be a part of that more than anything.

It took a little longer for Nico to come around, he had his own demons to battle. Internalized homophobia, even in small doses, is a real downer to say the least, let alone when you’re fighting demons you’ve manifested for some 15 years. The biggest struggle however, was probably in all honesty the fact that Nico was so goddamned oblivious. After spending years alone with limited human contact at best, and having spent so many years desperately wanting Percy to notice him, and being met with negative reactions, Nico didn’t know what love looked like anymore. How had he been supposed to know he was in love with Will?

There was a lot of subtle back and forth, would the other even be interested in a guy? It ended one day with an unplanned kiss followed by a declaration. Will called it the best mistake he ever made, neither of them really thought it was a mistake.

It was days like today that only proved that.

Will had woken up to Nico’s face on a pillow next to him. He’d fallen asleep with his hair pulled back in a ponytail, and some of his smaller hairs had fallen loose in the night and now framed his peaceful face. The first rays of golden sunlight fell through accidentally left open curtains, and Will reached out to brush a stray piece of dark hair and place it behind Nico’s ear. 

He woke up to a morning more beautiful than he would have ever hoped for at 13, and he would always be glad for that. He would always be grateful for how far he had come in not quite a decade. At just twenty-two he was 4 years into medical school, and three years married to Nico and he truly believed he was one of the happiest men in the world simply because he made Nico happy.

In time, Nico too would wake up. 

First with a huff, and then a grumbling noise of annoyance as he rubbed his face with his arm as though trying to block out light before half-asleep Nico seemed to accept his fate and wake up fully. 

“Good morning”

“How long have you been up?”

“Awhile”

Nico made a knowledgeable humming sound, perhaps he was just acknowledging Will’s response or perhaps he was saying ‘of course’. 

A few kisses, a short conversation, and a couple of “I love you”’s later, they got out of bed.

Nico's was wearing Will's high school hoodie that was a bit too short on Will anymore like it was a dress on him. The hoodie went down to Nico’s knees, he's got his own black shorts on because Will's just fall off unless he ties them really really tight. He's got black socks pulled up almost to his knees, there’s a little gap between the end of Nico’s shorts and the start of his socks. The hoodie goes down an inch or two past his short pockets, and he goes outside to grab the mail with a pair of unlaced combat boots on his feet. He's got his skull ring on his middle finger of his right hand, and his left hand holds a simple wedding band which glint in the light as he opens the front door. His hair is pulled up into a messy ponytail, some of it is up some of it is down, there's tons of flyaway hairs which frame his face since he hasn’t fixed it sense getting out of bed.

Call it a cliché, but Nico looks like Heaven personified without even trying. 

Sure, everyone looks nice in a suit or a dress, but how many people can roll out of bed without doing their hair wearing a decade old hoodie and look like they belong in a magazine spread?

Will is wearing one of Nico's looser shirts, on Nico it comes down past his hips and a little onto his thighs, on Will is he so much as lifts his arms a centimeter it reveals his hip bones. He doesn’t really mind, he kind of likes it to be entirely honest. Will can remember being just a few inches shorter than he is now and fitting fairly comfortably in Nico’s clothes at the time, they had never worried whose clothes they grabbed back then. Nico had finished his growth spirt and Will had thought he was done only two inches taller, it didn’t matter whose clothes were whose because everything fit well enough.

That wasn't quite the case now, Nico had stayed at his casual 5"5 while Will had shot up and extra six inches to 6"2 and ruined his own chances of sharing clothes. Such as right now he was sure he was wearing his own sweats, because he had specifically had to get a pair last night despite Nico's having been more accessible. Anytime he's actually managed to get a pair of Nico's pants comfortably on in the last few years, result in him wearing pants that are more like compression shorts or capris than pants.

Will was just happy he could wear some of Nico's larger shirts and hoodies still, the fact that Nico preferred to sleep in lots of clothes and typically baggy clothes meant Will had some options when it came to wearing his husbands stuff.

Will has also managed to steal a pair of Nico's socks, they're a taller pair on Nico (he buys winter wear so often because he's cold always) but on Will they gather a little awkwardly around his ankle. Will doesn't usually wear socks but they had gone to bed without the heat on and apparently the cold had set in over night and you could definitely feel it on their apartment floors.

The clothes would be a bit stretched out from him, it was something Will can remember being worried about after his second growth spurt, but Nico doesn't mind, He's assured Will of this time and time again, he says something about "aesthetic" and "alternative". Will doesn't really know, he's never cared much for fashion but he'll take Nico's word on it. 

The truth, although it's something Nico would only admit in their bed late at night when it was so dark you could barely see his face, and arguably a little drunk as well, was that he actually enjoyed the way the clothes fit better after Will wore them. He found some sort of comfort in the way the shoulders of his shirts would be just a little too wide on him, it was one of those small acts of love, it wasn't one Will entirely understood but both of them got their own sort of enjoyment out of Will stretching out Nico's sleeping clothes some so they went with it.

Will turns his attention from Nico walking out the door to the coffee pot on the countertop.

Will doesn't like coffee much, he likes the social aspect of getting a cup more. Nico had introduced him to it, he’d been drinking it for years by the time they’d left camp. It reminded him of home and he grew to like it for such reasons, and although Nico would consume just about anything with enough caffeine in it Will needed creamer to enjoy coffee to any amount. 

They were both honestly probably more tea people, but they never seemed to remember to buy any. Will will try to remember to write it down on the grocery list later, but Nico has walked back into the kitchen, climbed up on the counter next to Will and now he is looking at him; and Nico is always a distraction that's worthy of taking, Will will definitely forget to write down tea for their grocery list and the week will start over with more coffee in the house and no tea.

Nico’s fingers grip the countertop and he swings his legs a little bit back and forth from where he sits on the black granite, his white gold rings set against the counter in contrast. Will's worn out blue hoodie looks grey with age, the little printed letters are cracked and peeling on the back of it, his last name can still be read in white though. 

Will knows the cliché about your lover wearing your name is often unhealthy and overly possessive, but he likes seeing Nico with his name because it feels like a gift. It’s like he’s given Nico a part of himself and Nico accepted it with pride, and Will loves that, he loves him and Nico being little pieces of each other.

Nico is smiling at him, and leans just so, Will turns in acknowledgment of the gesture, and moves so he’s standing to the left of Nico. Nico crosses his legs at the ankle and leans towards Will laying his head against Will where his neck and shoulder meet. Will leans forward and buries his face into Nico’s hair, comfortable and a little sleepy still.

"Coffee?"

"Mhmm."

"Good."

Will isn't the best cook, for fucks sake he's not even someone who could be considered a good cook, but he can handle this. Nico taught him the basics when they were still living at camp, Will failed every time, he ended up going home for a short period for Christmas break and begging his mom "teach me how to make eggs" he left off the bit about impressing Nico but he knows she knew. When he came back Nico had just smiled at him, "you practiced huh?"

Will hadn't gotten better at making much else, some eggs, toast, coffee and he could boil water now too! He had burnt lots of stuff over the years, plastic containers in the microwave, a plastic ladle they had on the stove top, at least 100 failed attempts at grilled cheese. Will was honestly just happy he hadn’t blown up any microwaves since he was a kid... 

Nico had come home to many of Will's failed attempts at making him various things, sometimes the food was underdone other times it was bits of inedible char. Will did try, he really did, but the heat was always too high or he would end up distracted, or he would use sugar on accident instead of salt. Will did actually try, but his best attempts still often left something to be desired, so he often was the one doing dishes.

Most notably one time Nico had come home to him attempting to pan-frying some fish.

It had been supposed to be a surprise, it was Nico's birthday, and Will had had the day off of class even though Nico hadn't. He figured he would have surprised him; it had been back in their first apartment, not quite as nice as this one. A cheap tiled cream counter top that Nico had literally cringed at when seeing it the first time, the cabinets had somehow been cheaper than a set from IKEA and it had become an inside joke to them.

He had walked in the apartment to see smoke coming off the pan with a bit of flame still coming off it, and a large piece of charred fish stuck to the bottom of one of their frying pans.

"Hey dumbass, what did you do in here?" 

People thought they were an odd couple, Will could see that. The whole parallel people drew between light and dark and optimism and pessimism and such between them, none of those people were really correct though. Will and Nico were more similar than they were different. At the end of the day it didn’t really matter what people said, Will liked Nico, he loved him in all honesty- he'd never heard the word "dumbass" said with so much affection.

Nico was hard for most people to read, years along had left him struggling emotionally in some manner; he did his best to hide most of his emotions, cloak them so heavily that sometimes they were even unrecognizable to Nico himself. 

The most obvious example of this in regards to Nico was how "shut up" often meant "I love you", "idiot" was synonymous with "darling" in some ways. Don't get Will wrong, Nico could be very affectionate, but pet names came with hesitation for him in the early days; Should he use Venetian, Italian, or English? Masculine words that were romantic had been hard for him to say as well... But everyday he grew and got better, and Will was proud of him every time he called Will “dear” and didn’t hesitate before or after. 

Nico had started masking his emotions at some point during his time at Westover, whatever he had done there hadn’t been much more than how much the average person masked their feelings, but when he started training with Minos Nico had doubled down on keeping his emotions secretive. Minos hadn’t been kind or safe in any sense of the word, emotions were what he used to manipulate Nico all that time, it was no wonder Nico developed such a strong sense of apathy towards anything overtime. 

Nico could be affectionate, he could be the most loving person to ever exist. Nico’s emotions were sort of like secrets, if you stayed awake late enough into the night you would only come to know him then, such was the nature of him. He often whispered so quietly his wants and needs into the dark, there was some sense of fear tied to Nico’s vulnerability and he handed off his worries each night to the stars soft glow. Nico often refused to talk openly during the day, but at night apologies and truth always came, he had known what he had wanted earlier he had simply been to afraid of the rejection to acknowledge it, Will is glad that with the years the worst of such things is over; it is unlikely to be something Nico will ever fully grow out of, such is the nature of humanity, but progress is a virtue.

Such times not only resulted in Nico’s acknowledgement of his wants and faults, but also garnered the most affection from Nico. Nico couldn’t always communicate in an effective manner verbally, which was still a process they were working on, but he did his best. Nico’s act of love was like that of a small bird, he gave you small things that seemed insignificant until you realized he had only ever told you such things. Will fell in love with him for it, it wasn’t just about the way he would describe the wallpaper in his childhood bedroom, it was the fact that nobody knew anything else about Nico’s childhood bedroom. 

Will had never truly understood the concept of “touch starved” until he met Nico, he had known the definition sure, but he had never truly witnessed it. Nico never asked for touch, but it was the way he leaned into it, the way he sought it out; pressing up against Will’s hand like a cat stretching trying to get a little more contact somehow, trying to make the touch last just a bit longer so he could savor it properly. It was literally starving in some manner, starving for contact that wasn’t a goodbye or a hit, just for wordless contact. When he grew comfortable he gave affection fully, there was a joy in holding Nico’s hand, knowing that he felt safe enough not to worry about the effect a few extra seconds of prepping for a fight that holding hands would add.

Nico didn’t show affection in big ways, and that was more than okay with Will; they were laid back in comparison to most, he’d have sought the comfort of placing soap bubbles on each others head in the tub a hundred times over a night on the town. Nico’s affection was something quiet and almost secretive, unknown to anyone it wasn’t directed at; it was the way he would lead Will out of a room to kiss him, or the quiet way he whispered “I love you” into Will’s ear when in public.  

Will supposes in the early days “shut up” became “I love you” in order to avoid being seen as weak in some manner, in order to avoid acknowledging what he really wanted to say and having Will not respond in kind. Will didn't mind, they weren't an overly affectionate pairing- banter was common, almost everything they did was turned into some sort of game, the term "boys will be boys" definitely applied to their relationship of 3am pillow fights, late night discussions about what order the Christmas ornaments had to go up on the tree in, and whenever they wrote thesis papers for living room debates over the best Disney villain.

Will honestly preferred it that way, he preferred having the little moments reserved for solely them. He preferred the aversion to sappy clichés, the way a lover could say your name with exasperation and a smile that meant the whole world. He had seen what some other couples had, quick kisses in lines at cafes, holding hands across the table, and calling each other pet names they’d made up that were somehow ten times worse than the original- and Will didn’t want that. 

It wasn’t that what those couples had wasn’t love, it just wasn’t love in a way Will could understand, it wasn’t love Will felt from those sort of exchanges. He didn’t understand the idea of “butterflies in your stomach”, love wasn’t nerves, love was like coming home after a long day, love was the way someone could say your name like it was divine, love was the way someone would smirk at you when you were missing the point, love was not being afraid to cry in front of them,  it was knowing you could show up to them with any problem and instead of leaving you they would research the ins and outs of it in all their entirety. 

The coffee maker makes a sound, Nico lifts his head of off Will’s body and the deep browns of his eyes are like the freshly turned dirt of fields in planting season, and Will feels like there’s a garden growing in his chest that Nico feeds. Nico sits straight on the counter and pulls his legs up and sits cross legged on the counter as he pulls out his hairband, and runs his fingers through his hair before pulling it back up without all the flyaways. 

Will moves towards the coffee machine, pours it into two cups, and sets one on the counter beside Nico before making his way to the fridge to grab creamer. Nico’s watching him right now, but there’s no need for talking; there will be talking in a minute. Talking about Will’s schedule for the week, talk of whatever project Nico is working on right now, talk of what they should do for dinner the rest of the week, little sweet nothings, and eventually they’ll make their way to the couch to watch some tv and maybe later in the day they’ll play some sort of game or something as well.

So yeah, maybe "light" and "dark" were polar opposites and some people would have walked out on the word dumbass rather than immediately loving it, but Will liked it- everyday was a game of sorts, a new adventure, all with Nico who he loved. Coming home from work wasn’t necessarily about the place Will lived but knowing Nico would be there for him to see was the point  of going home, home was wherever Nico was and some small part of Will hoped eternity was real in some manner.

Will remembered when Michael had died thinking nothing could possibly get worse, and in some ways he was kind of right; he had ended up with some sort of demigod style fairy tale ending with the man he loved, and that was ten times better than anything fifteen year old Will would have hoped for.

[youarejesting]

Herb Jimin x reader

Pairing: Dealer!Jimin x Reader Beta: @bubblebunnylia​ Genre: Romance, Smut, Fluff, NSFW Rating: recommended 18+ (or whatever the legal age is in your country) Words: 3.3k Warnings: Blow job, oral female receiving, voyeurism, sex, cum mentioned, slightly rough but not extremely, unprotected sex. Summary: Jimin was the mary poppins of drug dealing. What ever you wanted he had and he NEVER disappoints his customer. That is until he met you. He finally decides to take matters into his own hands to fulfil your order.

[Masterlist] [Herb.2]

Not much was known about the young Korean man who showed up to all the parties. No one knew how he got there. All anyone knew was that he was the biggest flirt and had the herbs everyone wanted. Honestly, it didn’t matter what you wanted, he had it somehow. 

Everyone has their story with him. ‘I said I needed a bandage and he had it’, ‘I asked if anyone had any cat food cause we found a stray cat and he wipes out a bag, it was weird’, ‘He is like a sexy Mary Poppins, he gives you the dank weed but he also has pool floaties in his bag’ and you’re personal favourite  ‘I was so hungry and he pulls out a whole casserole and apologized because he ran out of vegetable bake’.  You had heard it all, it seemed like drunk fairy tales but no good party was without him. 

You remember when you first met he asked you if you needed anything, and when you asked him for love he froze up and apologized, sheepishly  claiming he didn’t have it. You knew he had his limits and that’s what kept you skeptical of his abilities. But something about his charming nature keeps you searching to meet him again. 

And it wasn’t hard. You met him, again and again. Each time he approached you and asked if you needed anything,  you always replied the same. “Love” and he would always grow quiet. You thought one day he might actually come up with a solution but you were yet to find out.

You were at one of ‘these’ parties, it wasn’t really your scene. Usually, you had no problem but tonight you really just couldn’t deal with it. It had been a long day and you had a headache. So you were trying to find a place to take  a quick nap,  using the stairs to stray further from the heavy base, which had started to cause some anxiety within your body. The sound upstairs was muffled and yet still so loud. Hoping to find an empty room and an equally empty bed so you could rest. 

You opened the first door to see if you were correct. This was Namjoon’s bedroom and there was an unspoken rule of no sexual activities in the host’s bed. Opening the door to see a modern style bedroom with white and black furniture and a few figurines. On the bed was the Host Namjoon with his boyfriend Seokjin kneeling on his knees in front of him. 

“Can I help you, Y/n?” You weren’t surprised that he knew your name, Namjoon knew everybody. But you were surprised by their blatant disregard of modesty. You had to  seal your expression from the two and the sexual act being performed was making your ears grow warm in embarrassment. 

“Ah, I was looking for somewhere to take a nap.” You admitted while looking away.  You didn’t want to overreact, only the coolest of kids got invited to Namjoon’s parties and you thought after high school popularity wouldn’t matter, but it still  does. 

Everyone at these parties had high libido’s. I mean, they are friends with Namjoon himself. If you were invited, you have either previously had relations with the host or you were a planned notch on the insatiable young man's belt. 

You were invited after a heated make-out session in the university’s auditorium with Namjoon and his loquacious boyfriend Seokjin.

Though your head was in fact turned you were still able to hear every obscene noise. The wet suction and smacking of lips, the throaty moans of Namjoon and the muffled encouraging moans and other elicit sounds from Seokjin. You could hear Seokjin's throat squelch around the large cock and you fought the urge not to blush any further.

“We will be finished in a— ahhh!” He hunched forwards, fingers clutching firmly to Seokjin’s blonde locks as his forearms tensed, the veins popping out. You saw every thrust of his hips. Seokjin waited patiently, you heard and saw how thick he swallowed and felt your pulse beating rapidly in your tight jeans. 

With every thrust he would swallow again. You could clearly see in detail the pronounced girth of the shaft sliding in his throat with fervor. Until the broad-shouldered gentleman pulled back in order to breathe, the action sending another twitch to Namjoons hips, and a final shot of cum just made it to the edge of Seokjin’s mouth and lips.

“We are done!” Seokjin said, standing as Namjoon readjusted his large and yet softening member back into his pants. “You can have the room or perhaps if you want we can entertain you?” 

The two smirked and you again, trying to play it cool, gave them a flippant reply. “No I really am tired and want to sleep, I was working on a thesis all night last night and–”

“Say no more sweetheart, rest.”  You avoided the place at the end of the bed where the two lovers had been. Snuggled in the blankets while falling asleep slightly as your head touched the pillow. Seokjin switched the light off and shut the door, allowing you to drift off peacefully.

The light switch flicked on and even with your eyes closed you felt blinded. You couldn’t stop the harsh shriek that pierced the air. “What? What is it now!?” 

“I am sorry,” the voice was soft and familiar as its owner switched the lights back off, “Can I sit for a moment?”

“Sure.” you mumbled, laying back down.  You could smell the stranger’s beautiful cologne and you got curious as to who it might be. 

“I just need to hide out for a while, someone not so nice is looking for me.” Their voice was hard to describe but sounded like a melodic ache.

“Who are you?” You asked, suspicious of the stranger climbing into the bed with you. 

“Who is asking?” The tiny trill showed he was amused by his dismissive answer, he was trying to act cute.  You turned on your phone  and used the light of your lock screen to examine the stranger’s face. Ash-blonde hair parted on the side, he smiled, wetting his thick lips with his tongue. 

“Ah, it’s you.” dropping your arm back to the bed, no longer feeling uncomfortable. All  the encounters you had with him were pleasant, he always used endearments because he never remembered names. 

“You know me, baby?” He took his phone and repeated your process to stream a soft light over your face. “Oh my, baby it is you! What are you doing in here sleeping? You're  usually the brightest in the room.”

“Huge Thesis.” you mumbled and he hummed, taking your hand. 

“Hey listen, how about I make you an offer tonight? You  can ask for anything you want and I will give it to you for half the price.  If I don’t have it I will give you the next best thing for free.” the lamp beside the bed was clicked on, giving a soft orange glow throughout the room. 

“Something warm?” You hummed while looking over at him curiously. You were craving a body. To be exact, human contact and love. He opened his jacket. 

“I got a warm meatball sub, a packet of lollipops, and a container of home cooked spaghetti. I got spare underwear in all different sizes, this is a set of slippers when your feet get sore in heels, juice mixers, spirits. I got herbs for days, this one will make you happy, this one calms you down, this one here has you seeing pretty colours, this one has you sleep until morning, this is my house special, it  tastes like a cinnamon donut.” he looked over. “Anything yet?”

You shook your head and he sighed, lifting a gym bag onto the bed, “alright brace yourself, I got spare clothes, ramen packets, a scented candle, batteries, pet food. I got condoms, a razor, a vibrator, lube. I have painkillers, cold medicine, I have this thing which I think was an Easter egg. I got a 3DS, a switch and a variety of games. I got a can of tomato soup, yet no can opener, weird. I got a heat pack, I got this adult diaper and I don’t know why, and a spiderman comic?”

“No,” you sighed.

“Tell me what you want and if I know I don’t have it it’s free.” he hummed, running his hand through his hair and looking so amazing while his plush lips were always so glossy and soft looking. 

“I want a fuck,” you breathed, “a good stress relieving fuck.”

“Aha, I do have what you want!” He held up  the vibrator and you shook your head. 

“No, I want heat and hands and so much more. I need to be loved right now, I need to just fuck until I forget everything. Last I checked I can’t get plowed into the mattress by a vibrator. So, unless you have a willing male hidden in that bag I don’t think you have what I want.” 

“Not in my bag, no, but I have one under my jacket,” he pulled his jacket off and held his arms out, “and I am free.” he grinned kneeling beside you.

“I have never done a deal like this, I am going to be honest. No one has ever asked for this. Would you like to make the purchase?”

“You sure you have what I want?” You bit your lip after you said it because look at him, he was sexy as hell and he knew it.

“I can fuck you until you forget everything, you won’t know anything but my name.”

“But I don’t know your name?” you raised an eyebrow. 

“Really? Pretty baby  doesn’t know my name?” He pouted “What do you call me in that pretty little head of yours?”

“I call you the herb man.” he laughed heartily, looking too cute for this proposition, almost falling over from his cute giggles causing you to sigh. “look, maybe I’ll just go home?”

“I have a reputation, I have what everyone wants. If word gets out that I, Park Jimin, let someone down not once but multiple times? I- we just can’t have that.  Now tell me how you want it.” he smiled, pulling his hair back with his fingers and revealing his forehead whilst licking his lips. You felt like you just got slapped with how quick he went from a soft boy to this deep gazed daddy.

“I don’t know..” you whispered, lying. He cupped your cheek looking you in the eyes and trying to search them for what you needed. Maybe he was just a people pleaser, he couldn’t let anyone down. You didn’t know why he was always so eager to make others happy.

“Kissing, touching, fingering, oral sex, what positions? What’s your kinks? I can provide it all.” 

“I want it all,” you whispered. He rolled on top of you, straddling your hips and caging you in with his body as he took your chin, tilting it upward and pecking you gently. Gauging your reaction, he looked down at you, you were looking up at him pleading for him to use you. But this wasn’t about him. He wanted to give you what you wanted.

He kissed you slowly, deeply, you felt loved, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly. He grinned, pulling off his shirt before continuing to kiss you. His hands starting to wander along your body as he massaged your breasts, squeezing them, making you whimper and moan into his mouth. 

His plush lips moved to your neck and he smiled when he found out how sensitive you were there. “You bought me, pretty baby. Use me however you wish.”

Without hesitation you grabbed his face kissing him again and running your fingers through his hair. The music downstairs was loud but you still refused to make too much noise. His hands slid down your side and thighs before sliding back up and lifting your dress,  revealing your underwear which he quickly slipped down your legs. He didn’t waste any time. 

Spreading your legs and smiling up at you. “Please,” You breathed and he smirked, biting your thigh. You yelped feeling yourself grow wetter.

“My name is Jimin, use it?”

“Please Jimin.” You said and he smiled thankfully, obliging to your whines. 

“With pleasure my pretty baby.” He gripped your thighs and took your clit in his mouth, it was so sudden. You were so surprised that a loud moan pulled from your chest. You tried to stifle your moans and he mumbled, “Make noise baby, no one can here you and no one cares.” 

He began making enthusiastic noises while he caressed you with his tongue. He alternated between sucking and flicking your clit, his fingers curling up inside you pressing against all the sweetest spots. Your thighs trembled in his hands and he giggled against you, pulling back with his chin glistening. “You’re shaking.” 

“Please jimin I need you!”

“Ooh, you sound pretty when you say my name.” He smiled, removing your dress entirely and your bra before he took his belt, unbuckling it. You noticed the bulge in his pants as he slid his tight ripped jeans and briefs off. He took himself in his hand pumping lazily, he was  more than ready. 

“Is this really what you want?” He asked softly, calling your eyes back to his, he looked shy once more. As he grabbed a condom, you took it from him, and threw it onto the bed hands pulling him down over you.  

“I am on the pill,” your words made him smile, nudging your legs wider apart with his thighs and lined himself at your entrance. He took his time entering you, rolling his hips forward, sliding effortlessly inside you. Each thrust fills you up completely. 

“I apologize if I finish too quickly,” His eyebrows knitted together in concentration, his mouth forming an o-shape, his breathing becoming forced pants. “Oh god, you feel so good, I’m sorry!”

He came. The sounds he made were beautiful and you felt disappointed as he pulled out.  He smiled, “I always last longer the second time, if you are still willing? I haven’t satisfied you yet and that is what’s important. It is what you asked for.”

At your enthusiastic nod he flipped you over, pressing his hand to the small of your back and guiding you into position, your hips rolling forward so you were at the perfect angle to receive him. 

“Oh fuck!” You gasped, this made him feel deeper inside of you and the angle has  him pressing heavily against your G-spot. Making you cry out every time. “Don’t stop, please!”

“Don’t worry pretty baby, I would never until you tell me you are satisfied.” He grunted, reaching around your waist to press two fingers against you, stimulating you further in time with his thrusts. 

“Jimin, please!” The urgency in your tone was registered by him; he pressed your chest into the mattress and pistoned his hips trying to help you finish. Your eyes flashed white as an immense pleasure filled your body. You couldn’t hear anything or see anything, lost in a void of white for eternity, while the pleasure screamed through your body. It was maddening with  how nice it felt, but it faded back to reality and your eternity of bliss was, in fact, mere seconds.

Jimin didn’t stop, flipping you back over. He was inside you again. You came again in a short time and he looked down amazed. “Seems you come quicker the second time,”

“More!” You pleaded as you were chasing your high, that moment in the white void of pleasure when there was nothing else and you had no other worries.

He kept going. Each orgasm becoming less intense, and harder to reach. Until finally, instead of a white void you saw black and it was peaceful. But you weren’t alone. Jimin was there, just with you and you felt safe. 

You woke up a while later to people talking. Realising the dark void was actually a dream, involving you and Jimin. Opening your eyes you saw Namjoon and Jin standing at the end of the bed while Jimin spoke to them quietly. “She passed out after seven rounds.”

“Next time invite us to join. It is my room,” Namjoon laughed and you turned to see Jimin beside you, sitting up, dressed in everything but his shirt.

“You are awake.” He had a placed a damp cloth on your head, “I am sorry if it was too much, I didn’t mean to make you pass out.”

“No, it was amazing.” You laughed.

“Was everything okay, pretty baby?” He raised an eyebrow and tucked your hair behind your ear. Your cheeks flushed, “Anything you like or dislike so I know for next time?”

“Next time?” You asked.

“Of course, if you need me again,” he smiled.

“Um, well, you are really good at oral, I am sure other girls will enjoy that a lot, so keep doing that, but some girls might not like a fast pace so keep that in mind.”

“Hey, listen I am not planning on doing this with anyone else this is an exclusive offer for you.” He smiled rubbing the back of his neck, “I don’t really like sharing and it would feel too much like cheating if I did this with every girl that asked. I am a one at a time guy, if you ever need me, I am here.”

“Oh thank you, I will call if I ever need anything.” You nodded, taking your phone from him and turning to the other two grinning in the room. 

“You are both so cute,” Seokjin pointed at you both. You stepped out of the bed wearing Jimin’s shirt. It was quite large on you since he wore baggy clothes often. You felt a warm trickle and looked down to see the small trail of liquid both Jimin and yourself had created. It continued to run down your thigh, a hot white liquid that made each male in the room moan at the sight. Namjoon licking his lips, as if imagining the taste.

“Next time you use my room we all have to share.” Namjoon wiggled his eyebrows, earning a slap to the back of his head by Seokjin. 

“Didn’t you just hear him say he doesn’t share?”

“Look at the mess you made on my bed, that is amazing!” Your eyes widened as you turned to see the sheets darkened with mixed arousal, jimin was as flushed as you, his phone buzzing. 

“Someone downstairs needs something to eat,” You saw him adorn his hoodie and duffle bag, reaching into his Mary Poppins Esque bag and grasping the container of spaghetti he had mentioned earlier. “If you need anything let me know.”

You went to the ensuite and got dressed, looking in the mirror. You looked happy, even you could admit that. “How is she so blind, he looks for her at every party, always asks her if she needs anything because he hopes he can talk to her,” Seokjin said “Jimin and y/n I ship them so hard!”

“I will ship you so hard, come here.” You heard them start kissing and ducked out. “Thank you for letting me rest and use your bathroom!” You smiled, waving as you left the room before they could start anything.

Calling it a night you wanted to return the shirt Jimin let you borrow, he was over by the pool handing out a few things and he waved with a smile. “Jimin,” you said as you got closer, “Your shirt!”

“Ah thanks,” He placed it into his duffle bag and you nodded, feeling awkward. “I am going to go.”

Halfway to your car you heard, “Wait, Y/n!” you turned on instinct, genuinely surprised he knew your name. He stopped in front of you. “I um, I wanted to you know-”

He rambled for a while and you thought perhaps you or he was having a stroke. None of it made sense and you blinked. “Jimin slow down, I am listening!”

“I asked you every party for almost a year what was the one thing you wanted and you answered love every time and I was thinking...” He took a deep breath looking at you nervously playing with the hem of your dress. “Do you maybe want to go out?” 

If you like this please hit the heart or the button that looks like you are trying to throw it in reverse in UNO to share this with others. If you enjoyed the story please feel free to check out some of my other stories on my [Masterlist]

Click here for [Herb.2]

[kindahoping4forever]

I’d Rather Be In Love // An Ashton Irwin 5 + 1 Fic

I had been feeling a bit off creatively so while I was on my Tumblr break, I started playing around with the 5 +1 fic format, mainly as a writing exercise; coming up with the overall “theme” and then thinking of the vignettes that would fit in with it is actually a pretty cool brainstorming activity. I don’t know what it was about this particular idea I had but once this popped into my head, I couldn’t stop writing and finished it in about a day. It’s a bit of a departure stylistically (and tonally?) for me so I was wayyyy needy and insecure about it so thank you (as always) to @cal-puddies​ for encouraging me and to @ashtonangst​ for hyping me up when I needed it.

Description: Five first times and one last time with Ashton

Warnings: Boyfriend!Ash (I mean), implied smut (it’s only implied, I know, I’m shocked too), mild angst, a lot of fluff (I know, I’m shocked too)

Word Count: 3,707

Masterlist // Taglist // Ko-Fi

Let  me  know  what  you  think!

————-

The First Meet

“I’d get comfortable if I were you, I’ve been sitting here for 20 minutes and haven’t seen a bartender yet.”

You’re not usually the type to talk to strangers in bars and you’re especially not the one to break the ice but there was something about this man that had you feeling bold. You’d been sitting at the back bar, people watching, waiting for your friends to arrive and he caught your attention as soon as he walked in. Hair slicked, perfectly styled save for one stray curl dangling in front of his eyes, crisp leather jacket and black jeans matched with a pressed button down shirt, impractically left unbuttoned enough to reveal a variety of necklaces and an alluring amount of chest hair. You never realized you found chest hair attractive until now. Huh.

He fixes his eyes on you and any nerves you were feeling are immediately drowned in a sparkling sea of hazel coloring and amused curiosity. “Is that so?” He replies in a voice tinged with an accent you can’t quite place. “This kind of thing happen here a lot?”

You grin, impressed by his smooth way of asking “do you come here often?” without actually saying the unoriginal phrase. “I’m a regular, can’t say that I’ve seen it before,” you eagerly take the bait. “The guy served me and a few others, dipped and hasn’t been back. The big crowd is always at the main bar at the front of the house, which is why I like to sit back here at this one.”

“I came back here for the same reason,” he smiles, sitting on the stool next to you, listening intently to your story.

“Smart man,” you flirt, trying not to think about how he’s now close enough you can smell his cologne.

You’re not sure how long you sit and talk with him - it feels like both a fleeting moment and a lengthy dream. You learn his name is Ashton, he’s a musician and like you, he was here to meet friends who ended up cancelling at the last minute. He asks you about your evening, your job, your life; you’re surprised at how easy it is to talk to him and how actually interested he seems in your answers.

After a while, Ashton looks around the bar and with still no barkeep in sight, he turns to you with a mischievous gleam in his eye and advises, “Keep a lookout?”

You watch enchanted as he confidently strides behind the bar and makes himself a drink. You raise an eyebrow at him and he holds a finger up, telling you to hold on; he reaches into his jacket and pulls out some cash that he leaves under a glass next to the cash register. “I’m thirsty, not a thief,” he explains as if this sequence of events were a totally normal thing to watch happen.

He sits his glass on the bar in front of where he was sitting and then stops to evaluate you for a moment; you feel yourself blush under his gaze. “Whiskey girl,” he declares, letting out a surprisingly adorable giggle when your shocked expression tells him he’s guessed correctly.

He serves your drink and casually comes around back to his seat, no one any the wiser. “Impressive,” you compliment, raising your glass to his. “Bartending skills aren’t too bad either.”

Ashton chuckles and you think to yourself you can’t imagine ever tiring of the sound. “To our friends and their flaky ways," he toasts. You clink glasses and his eyes never leave yours as you take your sips. He leans in and his hand grazes your arm; the feeling is so electric you nearly jump. "Glad they didn't show up, I think I'd rather spend my time with you."

————-

The First Time

"Should we take this to the bedroom?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

You snort at his cliched response and then gasp as he stands up from the couch, lifting you off his lap and locking your legs around his waist in one swift motion.

You were quite proud of yourself for not going home with Ashton that first night, even after talking at the bar until closing. You’d met him for drinks a couple more times that week and tonight when he asked you if you wanted to split some food at the bar, you figured that was dinner adjacent enough that this was essentially a date and you could reasonably justify inviting him back to yours.

You resume kissing as he starts down the hallway, accidentally bumping your back into the wall more than once. He briefly pulls away from your lips, muttering against them, "I have no fucking clue where your bedroom is located."

You affectionately snicker into his neck while pointing him in the right direction; your laughter sets him off and by the time he reaches your room, you're both giggling wildly. He drops you down onto the bed and you start wrestling with each other’s clothes. You immediately reach for his belt buckle but he grabs your hand and sternly warns, "The giggle train stops here, sweetheart, once the clothes come off, it's serious business."

This, of course, only makes you laugh more until you feel his lips on your neck and suddenly things feel a lot less hilarious.

Your hands and mouths eagerly get well acquainted with each other; you feel like you might burst into flames if things don’t progress sometime soon but you also feel like you could live off his exploratory kisses and surprised gasps if you had to.

You bite your lip to keep from smiling as he raises himself up from between your legs, hair goofily out of place thanks to the way you were tugging at it. Despite your best efforts to hide your amusement, he notices and playfully bites at your neck in protest.

“What did I say about your attitude, missy?” Ash taunts, smiling against your skin. “I’m putting in some of my best work here, you’re gonna give me a complex.”

You pull his face towards yours, kissing him deeply and hungrily. “Guess maybe you should try harder,” you tease, putting the emphasis on the word harder, reaching down to palm him.

He groans into your mouth and ruts into your hand. After a few more minutes of teasing, you pull away and direct him to the condoms you keep in your bedside table. You both get yourselves situated and when he finally enters you, you say a silent prayer of thanks to your friends for ditching you that first night.

He’s as attentive and communicative in bed as he is in conversation and your chemistry easily translates into one of the best first encounters you’ve had with someone. In the afterglow, you and Ashton lay there, catching your breath, joking and talking as if you’ve been lovers for years. You’re taken aback by the familiarity and fondness you feel but it doesn’t make you as nervous as you thought it might.

You excuse yourself to the bathroom and when you return, Ash is looking around the room, collecting his clothes that were strewn about.

Without thinking, you blurt out, “You’re welcome to stay the night.” Not wanting to be That Girl, you quickly try to save it. “It’s pretty late, I’m sure you’re tired, probably just want to crash… so… it’s cool if you’d like to do that here. Or, you know. You can go home. That’s cool too.”

He smirks at your obvious panic, walks over and kisses you. “I’d rather stay.”

————-

The First Doubt

“Is it weird I haven’t met your friends yet?”

Ashton’s quiet and it takes you a few seconds to scrounge up the courage to turn and face him; the question had been on your mind but you didn’t mean to let it out on a post-dinner car ride like this. It just happened.

"I don't know… is it?" He glances over at you before turning back to the road. "I'm not being an ass, that's a serious question. Is it? I just hadn't thought about it."

“You’ve met my friends?” You weakly offer, losing your nerve to have the conversation.

He makes a face. “I mean, just a couple of them,” he counters. “And that wasn’t even on purpose, that was just me not leaving your place in time before the brunch brigade showed up.”

You chew your lip, trying to think of how to word your concerns. “It’s just… we’ve been seeing each other for a minute and I think it’s going well -”

“It is,” he interjects, reaching over to grasp your knee reassuringly.

You lace your fingers in his, holding them in your lap. “I guess I was just thinking about it because of the other night when you made plans with me but forgot you had plans with them and I know they didn’t mind postponing but I wouldn’t have minded if they had just hung out with us,” you shrug.

“That option didn’t even cross my mind,” he admits quietly, eyes focused ahead.

“That’s kind of what bothers me,” you say, forcing a laugh so you don’t sound quite as pathetic as you feel. “Do you not think we’ll get along? Are you afraid they’ll embarrass you in front of me? I can’t think of anything I’d do that might embarrass you, but…”

“Baby, no,” he insists, giving your hand a strong squeeze. You smile to yourself - it happened so naturally, he might not realize it, but it’s the first time he’s called you “baby” outside of bed. The car pulls up to a stoplight and he turns to look at you. “You’re not even a little bit embarrassing, they’re definitely going to embarrass me but there’s nothing I can do about that and I do actually think you’d all get along.”

The light turns green and satisfied with his comfort, you’re prepared to drop the topic; it’s quiet for a couple minutes and then Ash is talking again. “If you want me to set something up, I can do that,” he thinks out loud. “I honestly just haven’t thought about it because when I think about wanting to spend time with you, I want to spend time with you… don’t tell anyone, but I like you a lot better than them.”

You grin and lean across the car to kiss his cheek, giving his hair a good tousle. “This is actually probably something that would qualify as embarrassing, huh?” You giggle, trying to finger brush his hair back into place. “Probably shouldn't do that around the boys.”

He flashes you a beaming smile and a light-hearted shrug. “I mean… I’d rather you didn’t.”

————-

The First I Love You

“Oh good, you're here! Can you reach that container on the top shelf with the blue lid? I don't know where the step stool went."

"Happy to see you too," he jokes. "I knew you were only dating me for my height."

"Please, you're not even that tall," you jab, pecking his lips lightly as he hands you the item you requested.

Ash looks around your kitchen, overwhelmed at the mess; he's glad he arrived early so he can help you get things in order. It was his turn this week to host game night for his (and now your) friend group and you offered to hold it at your place; when you insisted on also providing the food, he never imagined you'd go all out like this.

He lightly smacks your ass before peeling off his jacket and walking over to the sink, to turn on the tap and start washing your collection of dirty dishes.

"You should really let me buy you that dishwasher like we talked about," he declares. "Save you so much time and energy, babe."

You press a kiss to his neck tattoo and then hoist yourself to sit on the counter to continue your conversation. "And like I told you, I wouldn't use it enough to justify it," you insist. "My lease will be up next year and I really only need it when I have people over, which is never."

"Well with the way everyone's feasting tonight, I'd say that's definitely going to change," he chuckles, handing you a bowl to dry. "What's on the menu tonight?"

You happily rattle off the list of food you'd spent the day preparing: homemade pizzas for dinner, dips and salsas for snacks, various cookies and mini cakes for dessert. For most dishes, you'd provided both vegan and non-vegan options and had placed them in specifically colored containers to keep track.

Ashton stops the sink and comes to stand between your legs; you look at him curiously as he takes the plate you're drying out of your hands and sits it aside.

"It's really sweet that you went to so much trouble," he says thoughtfully, playing with the hem of your lounge shorts. "You know you didn't have to."

"I know… But I wanted to," you pause a second, evaluating the large stack of containers on the counter opposite you. Your eyes widen and you start rambling, "Oh god, I'm trying way too hard, aren't I? I didn't even think about it, I just went for it, how embarrassing, they already like me, why did I do this? We can stash this stuff and just order something, like normal people would, Jesus Christ, who makes pizza from scratch for game night, I cannot believe ---"

Your rant is cut off by your boyfriend's lips quieting yours. It's a sweet kiss; passion-filled but soft and ultimately reassuring. He laughs softly against your lips, "I love you."

You pull away to study his face, you're not sure why your first instinct is to ask if he's joking but judging from the fondness in his eyes, you know he's not.

He senses your uncertainty and doubles down on his statement. "I love you and I love that you care enough about something as stupid as game night to do all this." He kisses your forehead. "And everyone else is gonna love it too."

You pull his chin towards you and kiss him slowly, deliberately, joyfully. When you're done, you pull him close to you, wrapping your arms around his broad build, burying your face in his neck. "I love you too, by the way," you share.

“Glad to hear it,” he responds. You can hear the smile in his voice. Suddenly, he’s hooking your legs around his waist and lifting you off the counter, carrying you out of the kitchen towards your bedroom.

You giggle, “Ash, what are you doing? Everyone’s gonna be here in less than an hour, we’ve got to set up!”

He shakes his head. “They can wait, I'd rather show you how much I love you.”

————-

The First Fight

“I honestly didn’t think it was worth mentioning.”

“It’s just wild that you thought this would be uninteresting to me."

You take a deep breath. “I never said I didn’t think you’d be interested, I said I didn’t see why you were so upset, seeing as it wasn’t going to affect you at all,” you state as calmly as you can.

“My girlfriend moving across the country sure as fuck sounds like something that would affect me,” Ashton snipes.

“For a few months, during most of which you’ll be on tour,” you emphasize, patience beginning to wear. “Also love how you only ever call me your girlfriend when you’re mad at me.”

“I’m not mad, I’m disappointed.”

“There’s no way you actually just used that phrase right now, you’ve got to be fucking kidding.”

He huffs and begins pacing around the room while you sit on the couch, shaking your head. He borrowed your computer while you got ready for your date - which would have been fine except you’d left your email logged in, making him the inadvertent audience to new messages in a thread titled “NYC housing options.”

“You don’t even like your job,” he says incredulously.

“No, you don’t like my job,” you clarify.

“I don’t like how stressed and upset it makes you and I don’t understand why you’d want to devote months of extra hard work and more training for something that doesn’t even fulfill you,” he says matter of factly.

“The doors this could open for me have the potential to make my job more fulfilling - ” you start to explain.

He cuts you off, “Why don’t you just do something fulfilling in the first place?”

You purse your lips, getting angry. “Well, we can’t all be pure intentioned virtuoso artists like you, Ash.”

“Don’t be mean, I’m just trying to understand what’s happening,” he says, exasperated and scowling.

He sits on the opposite end of the couch, running a hand through his hair. You can tell he’s not just mad, he’s hurt. You’ve had fights before but they were trivial and easily resolved; this was something else entirely.

You inch closer to him. “I promise I wasn’t intentionally keeping it from you,” you say carefully. “I legitimately thought since it wasn’t a done deal that it didn’t matter. I’m just being considered for the program.”

Ashton toys with the rings on his fingers, avoiding your eyes. “But why wouldn’t you have told me it was even a possibility, why wouldn’t you have wanted to celebrate that your boss thought of you for this? If it’s something that exciting and important enough to you that you’re considering upending your life for it, why wouldn’t you want to share that with me?”

“I don’t know,” you confess. “...I guess I just didn’t think it was that serious.”

“It’s serious enough that you’re already looking at apartments,” he notes, jaw clenching.

You’re silent; he has a point.

You exhale slowly. “I think part of me was maybe afraid that something like this might happen,” you share quietly.

“So then you did keep it from me,” he accuses.

“No, I think I was just… procrastinating?” You lamely defend.

Ash is cool and eerily reserved as he responds, “Just to be clear: I’m not upset about your offer, I’m upset that you clearly don’t care enough to include me in the important parts of your life. I share everything with you.”

You blink in disbelief. “That’s not fair, you’re not listening to me at all.”

He shrugs, disinterested. “Tell me where I’m wrong.”

“Tell me you’re not just mad that I’ll be too busy to follow you around on tour like some starry-eyed groupie,” you toss out, irritated.

He scoffs, “At least the groupies are honest about what they want from me.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep your hot, angry tears from falling; you refuse to let him see you cry. “You should leave,” you announce flatly.

“Gladly,” he agrees darkly, standing up. “I'd rather be anywhere else.”

————-

The Last Night

“Thank you for being here for this... you didn’t have to be."

“Of course I did, don’t be ridiculous,” Ashton says. “I want to help plus it'd be kind of shitty for me to let you do all this on your own.”

You shake your head appreciatively. “Yeah but going from literally stepping off of a tour bus to loading all my stuff into a moving van is a lot.”

“Well I didn’t literally do that, I drove my own car here,” he jokes.

“You’re the absolute worst,” you deadpan.

“I’ve heard that before,” he grins.

You stick your tongue out at him and then yelp as he grabs you by the waist, wrapping you in his arms, pressing an absurd amount of kisses to your face.

Giggling, you escape from his embrace and go back to stacking the boxes left in the room, making sure everything is correctly labeled and sealed with tape.

"What room do you want this sorted into?" Ash asks, holding up a bag filled with various tubes of lotion.

You squint, trying to see which products are inside. "Uh… that can be bathroom," you direct, pointing to a box to his left.

He holds up a stack of plastic novelty cups. "Kitchen?"

You shake your head. "I actually use those on my desk - that box is over here." He passes them to you and you blow a kiss in response.

You both quietly continue organizing but you keep feeling Ash's eyes on you, studying your demeanor. Finally, he asks, "So… last night in your very own LA apartment… how are you feeling?"

You honestly hadn't stopped to ask yourself that question yet so you use this moment to take a break and ponder your feelings. You flop yourself onto the bare mattress that’s been left in the middle of the room for you to sleep on and stare at the ceiling.

"...Fine? I mean, it's weird," you share, sorting through your thoughts. "Obviously I've lived other places but this… y'know… this move feels different."

He smiles softly at you and sits on the edge of the mattress. "That's because it is," he states. "Bigger milestone, bigger plans…" He mindlessly digs through a box by the bed, you reach out and lightly rub his back.

"Definitely bigger as far as how much I'm moving - how do I have so much stuff?" You joke, gesturing around the room.

He snorts. "I was thinking the same thing," he teases. "See, I should've asked you to move in with me as soon as you got back from New York last year. You could've made do with just what you had in that small ass apartment, problem solved."

You laugh heartily, your exhaustion and excitement making his joke a lot funnier than it actually is. You check your phone for the time and sigh. "Think we should call it, babe. We can finish up in the morning."

He sets aside the box he was looking through. "Well we already packed up your TV and stereo, what do you want to do for the rest of the night? It's still kind of early," he shrugs.

“What’s the opposite of christening a place?” You coyly ask, striking a pose. “Because I vote we do that.”

Ashton smirks, moving to lay beside you on the bed. “Nothing I’d rather do.”

————-

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[its-sixxers]

OC Interview - Tandreth

name ➔ “Who’s asking?” he grins. “Indoril Tandreth, if you’re Velothi. If you’re one of the jarl’s men, I’m no one.”

are you single ➔ “Quite. Why, are you looking to change that? I’m a hard man to tie down.”

are you happy ➔  “My coinpurse is full, I have a collection of various artifacts and treasures, someone to warm my bed every night - I suppose I can’t complain.” The smile leaves his eyes, however.

are you angry ➔ “I’m Velothi. It’s in the blood, so they say.” You can’t imagine the aloof man in front of you furious by any means, but there’s a bite of challenge to his tone.

are your parents still married ➔ “Hah!” he laughs. “They never were. Everyone calling me a bastard is right in more ways than one.”

NINE FACTS

birthplace ➔ “The Ashlands. Northwestern Vvardenfell, back in the day - now the entire island’s ash.”

hair color ➔ “Black, but I’m told the sun turns strands brown if it’s bright enough.” Tandreth combs his fingers through his curls. “I bleached it white, once upon a time. Didn’t want to look my sister, you see.”

eye color ➔ He flutters his eyelashes. “Red as Azura cursed them.”

birthday ➔  “The tenth of Sun’s Dawn. Year 430, of the Third Era.” Tandreth waits for the math to be done, eyes twinkling playfully. “I look good for my age, don’t I?”

mood ➔ “They change like the weather. Now? Or most often? The answer to both is bored.” He tries to look at the sheet of paper and the notes upon it. “Tell me you have something better to ask.”

gender ➔ It’s not the interesting question he wanted. “I’m a man. Not that the local Nords seem to believe me.” His smile grows wicked. “Their wives do.”

summer or winter ➔ “They’re the same thing, here in Skyrim.” He sighs. “Summer. I like to be able to feel most of my fingers.” You note his left pinky is missing.

morning or afternoon ➔ “Morning. I like to watch the sunrise before I turn in for the night.”

EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE

are you in love ➔ “Always am.” he sighs dramatically, lounging further back in his chair. “How can anyone not be? Tamriel is filled with the beautiful.”

do you believe in love at first sight ➔ “Now we’re at the interesting questions.” Tandreth kicks his feet up on the table. “Of course I do. Love at first sight, hate at last sight - isn’t that how it tends to go?”

who ended your last relationship ➔ It catches him off guard - he’s leaning his chair back on two legs, and nearly falls over. The front feet of the chair connect with the floor loudly as he settles himself. “The law.” he answers simply. “And gold.”

have you ever broken someone’s heart ➔ The next question quickly repairs his high spirits. “Dozens, I’m sure. Don’t mistake me for cruel - I’ve never been dishonest about what I am. I can’t prevent others from lying to themselves.”

are you afraid of commitments ➔ He rolls his eyes. “You sound like Raansi.” he mutters. “I’ve spent the last fifty years in Skyrim, I think that’s commitment enough.”

have you hugged someone within the last week? ➔ Tandreth opens his mouth then frowns. “... you know, I haven’t.” he realizes aloud, and is clearly troubled by it. “Maybe I should give that great dragonborn ox a hug. I’ve gotten good at dodging her hammer, you know.”

have you ever had a secret admirer ➔ “I like to collect the letters.” he grins from ear to ear. “They don’t stay secret for long, if I can help it.”

have you ever broken your own heart? ➔ Those red eyes of his drop to his nails, where he makes a display of picking at his cuticles. “Don’t be foolish.”

SIX CHOICES

love or lust ➔ “Lust is simpler. There’s less tears involved, much more fun for all parties. I don’t need someone simpering over me to feel like a whole person.” he answers, perhaps a tad defensively.

lemonade or iced tea ➔ “Iced tea offers much more variety in flavor. That’s a drink for Hammerfell or Elsweyr, not this frozen tundra.”

cats or dogs ➔ His mouth twists. “I don’t keep pets. Humans live short enough lives, animals are asking for heartbreak.”

a few best friends or many regular friends ➔ “I have a very large circle of acquaintances and paramours. Does that count?”

wild night out or romantic night in ➔ “A wild night out, of course. It helps one feel alive.”

day or night ➔ “As much as I hate the cold, night. Have you seen a full moon over the snow on a clear night? As bright as day, and clear as crystal.” There’s a dreamy expression on his face.

FIVE HAVE YOU EVERS

been caught sneaking out ➔ “Several times. Not all for troublesome reasons, I assure you.”

fallen down/up the stairs ➔ “I am the pinnacle of grace.” Tandreth looks almost offended to be asked.

wanted something/someone so badly it hurt? ➔ “There was this necklace I tried to steal from a sleeping beast of a woman, and I nearly had my nose broken for the trouble.” You think it’s a joke, but the grave quality to his tone suggests that Tandreth takes any threat to his nose very seriously.

wanted to disappear ➔ “Wanted to? I can.” Perhaps he is dodging the questions.

FOUR PREFERENCES

smile or eyes ➔ “They’re intertwined. Part of a smile is in the eyes, you know - and they’re at their best when smiling.”

shorter or taller ➔ “Taller.” he answers first, then wrinkles his nose - his reflexive response has brought up something uncomfortable. “I don’t mind either way.” he adds hastily. “I’ve been very happy with people of all sizes.”

intelligence or attractive ➔ “You must think me vain indeed.” He tilts his chin upward. “But aye, I’ll say it - beauty. Not all can find tomes to pore over or tutors from the imperial province. Beauty isn’t just in the face, or the form, it’s an energy all its own.” He gestures vaguely with his hands. “A school of magic, perhaps. Difficult to define. It’s why I love it so dearly.”

hook-up or relationship ➔ “I’m a hard man to love.” he says with a dramatic shrug and an affected sheepish smile. “But I don’t leave my bedmates wanting.”

FAMILY

do you and your family get along ➔ Tandreth exhales shortly. “I liked the other questions.” he mumbles. “Presently? Only my sister’s left of it, and we’re not on speaking terms.”

would you say you have a “messed up life” ➔ His smile is entirely without humor, a grim thing that ages him by decades. “Don’t worry, dearest. I live my life to the fullest.”

have you ever run away from home ➔ “I think every young lad does, at some point.” He’s picking at his nails again.

have you ever gotten kicked out ➔ “By my family? No. But there’s a few cities I’m not allowed to set foot in - do you have the time to listen? ... no? Pity.”

FRIENDS

do you secretly hate one of your friends ➔ “What intrigue!” Tandreth’s good humor returns. “I’d have to have them to bear some secret distaste. The people I hate in my circle I make no secret of.”

do you consider all of your friends good friends ➔ “I’ll stretch the definition of friend to play along with your questions. No. You don’t live as long as I have by trusting anyone but yourself.”

who is your best friend ➔ For a moment you think he’s about to say ‘no one’, and you’re correct - but the pause before he says so is notable indeed.

who knows everything about you ➔ “My sister, I suspect. We’re twins, you know - she’s an hour older. Will never let me forget it.” He snorts. “You’d think she had decades on me, the way she carries on. She knows everything - so she might was well know everything about me.” You sense he’s a little bitter.

He offers to take you to a play in town after your work day is complete. You respectfully decline, and he respects your professionalism - but he still winks on his way out.

[fleckcmscott]

After

Summary: Arthur is heartened to have Y/N back by his side. But moving forward isn't as simple as he'd daydreamed.

Warnings: Adult situations, Swearing

Words: 3,391

A/N: This request comes from @jokerownsmysoul​! It's a continuation of Ch. 23 of Watch What Happens and takes off right after the last paragraph. Funnily enough, when Karen originally beta'd that chapter she said, "Where's their conversation? Oh, well, I guess it's implied." 😄 Special thanks to Domino, aka @thegirlwho​, (who also wanted their conversation 😂) for sharing her point of view and helping me see things from a different perspective.

A good portion of my life is the exploding head emoji right now, so it's been a while since I've posted. However, I'm still here. Still writing. Still trying. Work on the new multi-chapter continues. If you've got any requests, let me know. Your patience, support, and you mean a lot to me. Thank you.

Nimble fingers twined through his loose, brown curls, a gentle tug as lips met and parted, met and parted. Her body surrounding that soft, most intimate part of him was visceral. Warm and wet. "I love you" fell from her mouth. Once, twice, more than the walls of his apartment had ever heard. He swallowed but was unable to murmur an appropriate reply. She came back, his mind affirmed. She came back.

Shit, I haven't mopped for a week.

Arthur braced himself on his knees and elbows to look down at her. The notched collar of Y/N's blouse had somehow remained uncrumpled. Strands of her hair fanned out messily over the beige, aged hexagons of the kitchen linoleum. Her tears had reduced to stains on her flushed cheeks. He brushed them away with the back of his knuckles. She'd said he hadn't hurt her, that she was happy. Both good things. If he could figure out the next step...

His eyes flitted back and forth between hers, brows pinched. Moving to kneel, he tucked himself back into his briefs, pulled his light blue pajama bottoms over his rear, then ran his hands along his thighs. "Have you had dinner?"

Buoyant laughter left her as she propped herself on her forearms. "I'm famished. Especially after that." She extended her hand and he accepted it gladly. When she started to pull herself up, he grabbed the other. Her kitten-heels slid the weave rug along the floor; it took some effort for her to get her footing. Once she stood, she tied the drawstring of his pants and adjusted her skirt. "Be right back," she said and scurried to the bathroom.

The thud of the door closing cleared the awe from head. He'd rather have kept it. Changes in mood were typical as of late. The bliss of her return was already twisting into dread. No longer consumed by the need to be inside her, his mind conjured questions, too many to brush off. He turned the knob of the toaster over. Studied the orange glow of its heating element. Had charity - or worse, pity - caused her return? Had distress afflicted her as deeply as it had him? Had she thought of him half as much as he'd thought of her?

Was she going to abandon him again?

He suddenly felt very silly and quite small for allowing himself a modicum of relief. Nothing had been clarified. By having a quickie on the floor after they'd barely exchanged a word, he'd set himself up to be hurt. The way he had when he'd kissed Helen, or when he'd considered Randall his friend, or when he'd believed, for one foolish minute, that Murray might be kind. He flinched against the fury simmering in his stomach. That same panic and anger from when Y/N had walked out of his apartment and, he'd been convinced, his life. He clutched the counter's curved edge so hard his fingertips went numb.

But then she curled herself into his side and squeezed him tight about the waist. Her blithe bearing was almost enough to quiet his tumult. "Anything I can help with?"

"No." He moved to dig through the freezer. Beans and franks with a brownie. English style fish 'n' chips. His mother's favorite, meatloaf. Only the teal packaging made them appealing. He grimaced at the meager offerings. He snatched one from the door, held it out with some trepidation. It was possible the gel-like gravy, slices of turkey roll, and drowned stuffing wouldn't put Y/N off. "Um, this was on sale. I bought a few."

"It's perfect." She accepted the carton and tore it open. "I heard a song on the radio yesterday that made me think of you."

"Oh yeah?" He closed the door of the toaster and set the timer with a flick of the wrist.

"The man was singing that his name was Carnival. That's your clown name, right?" She chuckled, dragged the black, wooden stool from under the counter, and perched on it. "It reminded me of the subway." A flirty pinch to his abdomen. "And that I still have to see one of your performances."

Arthur scoffed and averted his gaze, struggled to push through his anxiety and enjoy her. But he wasn't the type of man to let questions lie. When he'd gotten the courage to ask Y/N on a date, he'd taken the risk. When he'd read Penny's letter, he'd hopped on the first train to Wayne Manor. After the confrontation in Wayne Hall, he'd gone to Arkham and stolen that wretched file.

His curiosity tended to pick wounds that hadn't yet healed over.

The warmth of her hand met his back. "Thank you for giving me time."

The tenderness of her tone loosened the clench of his jaw. But he still couldn't bring himself to look at her. He'd done what she'd requested, because he'd feared mistakes would drive her further away, not because he'd wanted to or understood. He wondered if someone without a mental illness would have behaved differently. She'd pleaded with him to listen, kissed him goodbye, then left like it was nothing.

Whatever the case, her appreciation felt wrong. He didn't need gratitude. He needed answers. He inhaled sharply. "Why did you go?"

She traced the knobs of his spine. "I had to figure out the best way to be with you."

"Am I that hard to be with?" he bit out.

"Of course not. That's not what I said."

He gulped and released a ragged breath. "It broke my fucking-" He faltered when his voice cracked.

"Arthur, I didn't want to hurt you. I'm sorry." Her embrace was tight, a welcome pressure on his ribs despite the ache. Her palm slid up his sternum. "I was afraid to do more harm than good." He should have contradicted her, told her she was crazy if she believed loving him would damage him. But he stopped himself when she nuzzled his bicep. It was a while before she cleared her throat. "I love you more than I imagined possible." She giggled, then, and sniffed. "Which isn't bad for six weeks, Mr. Fleck."

Tears threatened as his eyelids fluttered. He managed to keep them at bay, covering her hand with his to distract himself. He pressed it tighter to him, until he thought her fingers might break through his chest. Finally, he met her stare. Found it full of love and what might have been joy at being together. In that moment, he knew nothing would ever separate his heart from hers.

~~~~~

"Christmas is coming up. Let me know what you'd like to do."

Arthur's slight nod was typical of their conversation this evening. Well, that wasn't quite fair. More like half of it. He'd been vacillating between bouts of confidence and timidity, with the latter tending to win out. He'd put his arm around her, examined the latest issue of TV Guide, and asked what she'd preferred to watch. She'd let him choose; he'd picked a three-hour variety show. Minutes later, he'd been squished into the corner of the sofa, legs neatly crossed with his hands clasped in his lap. She'd risen to refresh their ice teas, and he'd halted her with a kiss to her knuckles and his handsome grin. Upon her return, he'd focused on the floor and kept quiet. The changes were difficult to predict.

At least the periods of stillness made it easy for her to reflect, even as those reflections weren't entirely pleasant. She'd had faith in his ability to take care of himself and his judgment to reach out to her if he was in crisis. And while she had no regrets about taking five days to ensure she could sustain their relationship, she lamented the pain it had caused him. She'd detected it in his stiff posture in the kitchen. Seen it in his glistening eyes. Sensed it in his inconsistent reluctance to be touched.

It had been hard for her, too. The absence of their nightly calls, of shared laughter, of his presence had been keen. She would have returned to him without receiving his letter. But the ink on the page, with its occasional misspellings and earnest admissions ("I don't kno if I'm doing this right but I want to try. Maybe you want to try with me, to?") had prompted her to run to the subway before she'd taken off her coat. Confirmed that despite their differences, them being opposite in many ways, their hearts were the same.

He perked up slightly when the next performer came on, an old man from Whitefish, Montana and his paper mache ventriloquist dummy. Y/N's attention drifted to Arthur as he leaned forward onto his knees. Though the act was nothing special - terrible jokes, drinking water while the puppet talked, strumming a ukulele as it sang - his face crinkled in amusement. "They just have regular people on there," he said. "I haven't seen anyone from Gotham. I should try out."

Thankful he was focused on the show and not her, she pursed her lips. Had he forgotten how Murray had gone? Or Pogo's? Then again, he'd believed both had gone great. And she wanted him to succeed. To strive. To dream. His determination impressed her, made her proud. She searched for a truthful but kind answer. "Once you've got a set you're comfortable delivering, sure. Would you send a tape? I have a recorder you can borrow."

"I wrote a lot this week. Not many jokes but I've done some brainstorming." He flicked ash from his cigarette into the pink ashtray on the coffee table. Splayed his fingers and rubbed his palms together. The bob of his Adam's apple was faint in the dim, blue light. "Do you- Do you want to sleep over?" He turned to her.

Elated, she smiled widely and shifted to sit side-saddle. "I'd love to, but I didn't bring any clothes."

"Hold on." He rose from the couch and disappeared into the bedroom. After a minute, she followed to find him digging through a couple of cardboard boxes. Boxes filled with his mother's things, she realized. She'd have to follow-up for details, find out what had happened to ensure the transition would go as smoothly as possible. Though the relationship between him and Penny was complicated, change wouldn't be easy.

He held out a threadbare, light-blue, nylon nightdress with ruffled cap sleeves and a ribbon at the neckline. "Here."

Y/N cocked her head. The gown was exceedingly narrow, its seams stretched. If she had been inclined to wear it, it wouldn't have fit. Arthur's hopeful expression made it plain he did not see the oddity in offering his romantic partner his mother's nightwear. It was logical, she supposed. His years had been spent living hand to mouth. He didn't have any siblings. Hand-me-downs - a spare sweater here, a pair of socks there - would have come from Penny. A tad strange, to be sure. But poverty had a way of making the abnormal normal.

"Thanks," Y/N said. "But I'll be fine in my panties." At his pout, she closed the inches between them. "If you have a t-shirt, I'll take it." His brows lifted and he gave a toothy smile, comprised of surprise and conceit. The shirt he retrieved from the living room was plain and white. The lightly stained armpits didn't bother her, nor did its loose fit. It was part of his work outfit, he explained. And he claimed she looked cute in it.

Her sleep was restful, deep, better than it had been the last two weeks. Arthur being nearby and her certainty when she'd lain her head on his pillow had calmed her. She didn't think about the Wayne Foundation. She didn't worry about how to pursue a future with him. She didn't waste her energy being afraid of powerlessness. Warmth filled her, aided by contentment and cozy blankets.

When the mattress sunk beneath his weight, she didn't check the clock. Judging by the speed with which her drowsiness dissipated and the blackness of the room, it was likely around 4:00 AM. She'd gotten a solid five hours. With a slight stretch and mewl, she blinked up at him. Her elbow accidentally bumped his chest. "Aren't you tired?"

"No." He palmed her shoulder, caution palpable in every movement. Then his caress dragged down her upper arm, hovered over her breast.

She stroked his stubbled cheek. "What are you up to?"

"Making sure you're really here."

It was unclear if he was kidding. The extent of his imaginations or hallucinations - if that's what he experienced - weren't yet known to her. She recalled how he'd clutched her jacket, the way he'd fiddled with her wall calendar and coffee table when he'd come to her for help. Tactility oriented him, as it had her father before the final stages of his diagnosis. And, outside of acute episodes, Loving Someone with... had advised her to carry-on as always.

Laughing gently, she entwined their legs. "Where else would I be?"

"I don't know," he scoffed. He tucked his chin. Silence permeated the room, interrupted only by their exhalations. Eventually, he spoke, his rasp bashful and desperate. "Are you going to leave me again?"

"No." She pressed his hand to her breast, tried to soothe his tremble away. "I like it here."

She could hear his smile in the dark. He dipped his head to capture her lips. He kissed her and kissed her and kissed her again. She kissed him back until she ached with emptiness. Until she felt him hard against her hip.

"Y/N?" he breathed into her mouth.

Her pulse throbbed in her ears. "What?"

His forehead met hers and she shivered all over. "I wanna make you come."

~~~~~

Drip, drip, drip. A calming, predictable sound. The pungent smell of generic brew wafted to his nostrils, slightly burnt but familiar. Coffee. He was making his girlfriend coffee before she went to work. After they'd made love and snoozed until sunrise. After she'd admonished him for smoking in bed, then caressed his flaccid sex and teased him about his "secret freckle." (He'd covered his face in horror and delight and promised himself that one day he'd find a "secret" on her.) He hummed along to the radio, though he disliked the song, and whistled while he filled their cups. Once he'd added three sugars to his and the last of his milk to hers, he padded to the bath. He leaned on the doorframe, an imitation of nonchalance.

In her apparent rush to get to him, Y/N hadn't simply neglected to pack a change of clothing. She was swiping his stick of deodorant under her arms with haste. When she grabbed his comb and tried to tame her hair, he didn't mind. She declined his offer of Penny's eyeliner and mascara but that was fine. She didn't need them, anyway.

As she buttoned her pleated blouse, he giggled. He'd heard jokes about women going to work in identical outfits two days in a row. The innuendo had escaped him until now. A thrill went through him at finally getting the joke. He blushed. "You're dressed the same."

"I left Patricia a message that I'd be late. It won't surprise anyone." She accepted the proffered mug and took a long drink. A mischievous look as she arched a brow. "She'll want details."

Arthur's eyes widened and he rubbed his forehead. This would take getting used to.

She squeezed a line of toothpaste onto her index finger. "What are you doing today? Any gigs?"

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, braced his arm on the wall. "I have to call the hospital. Figure out where to send my mother." He was glad to begin the process of moving on, moving forward. To start building a life of his own. Freed from the woman who hadn't protected him. Paired with the woman who understood him most. Still. He was daunted.

After a few seconds of attempting to brush her teeth, Y/N rinsed her mouth and washed her hands. "The social worker should be able to help. There must be homes specializing in lobotomy patients, given how common they were. Actually..." She stepped to him and wrapped her arms around his middle. "I bet there's an advocacy group for the elderly in Gotham. I'll call around on my break. We can have lunch and review their recommendations."

The tightness in his chest prevented him from holding her gaze. His longings for kindness didn't make it any less peculiar. He hoped he would be able to accept it without skepticism soon, like a normal person. That he wouldn't wait for the other shoe to drop. He tried to fight his negative thoughts rather than give into them.

But he couldn't. Not yet. "Why are you doing this?" he mumbled.

She gave a small shrug, as if what she was about to say wasn't a miracle. "I love you. Why wouldn't I?" Before he could react, she walked to the front door and slipped on her heels. "Besides, we should plan this weekend. Shall We Dance is showing at the Monarch. We could catch it and have dinner at my place. And there's a doctor I found for you - when you're feeling up to it. We'll go over the particulars."

The offer to see the film, one he knew every number of, was an obvious attempt to butter him up for that discussion. It would work. "That sounds nice." He went to her side and took her coat off the wall mounted rack, guided her arms into the sleeves

"Arthur," she started, zipping her jacket. Her pretty eyes met his. "I wasn't going to end our relationship. I don't want you to fear that."

He winced and clutched his hands together, annoyed she had raised the subject again after the wonderful morning they'd shared. "I believe you now."

"Back home, I made mistakes. That's why I needed time." She shook her head. "The thought of repeating them with you..."

Mistakes? What kind of mistakes was she referring to? She'd said her divorce had been mutual. A big fight with her sister or mother hadn't been mentioned. She almost never talked about what had happened with her father, other than to name his diagnosis and state she'd gone on medication. She was a good woman. Whatever she had done, it couldn't be that terrible. Not half as bad as the notions that wormed their way into his brain like a broken record.

Then she continued. "I didn't know what to do then. But I think I do now. " She nuzzled his sideburn and carded her fingers through his hair. "If I see you walking towards a cliff, I won't follow. I'll pull you back before you get there."

He stared at her, blinking rapidly as he tried to hold himself together. Her words felt like the kind of fantasy he'd created to ease his misery. To try to convince himself he should exist another day. That he should stick around. Multiple hospitalizations had proven that hadn't always worked. But this was new. Real. Maybe that reality would allow him, for a little while, to be all right.

He cupped her face, drifted his thumbs over her cheeks. She leaned into him, into the kisses he placed on her brow, her nose, her mouth. His lips parted but all he could manage was a shaky exhale. The press of his face to hers.

She must have noticed he was overwhelmed. It frustrated him - he wanted to find a way to articulate himself. But her peck to his jaw, her hand covering his, made him feel safe. "Meet you at my office at one?"

"Mm-hmm." He nodded into her hair, not quite ready to let go.

Gently, she pulled away from his grasp, took her purse, and opened the door. She smiled. "Call if you need anything."

At that, she strode down the hall in the direction of the elevator. He stepped out and watched until she disappeared around the corridor's corner. He rested against the door and closed his eyes, wishing harder than he ever had before that every morning would be like this for the rest of his life.

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve​, @ithinkimaperson​, @sweet-nothings04​, @stephieraptorr​, @rommies​, @fallenstarsabyss​, @gruffle1​, @octopus-plasma​, @tsukiakarinobara​, @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile​, @another-day-in-chuckletown​, @hhandley80​, @jokerownsmysoul​, @mrscarnival​

[alolanrain]

Have some random HC’s for the Champions. Their all in different lengths and I’m on mobile, as always, so be prepared for a LONG post.

——————

I love the very personal, and maybe a very heavy projected, HC I have that Ash is actually really tired all the time but his ADHD just gives him the drive to go Do Things because if he doesn’t he gets really bad anxiety and the giant need to Stim his arms off if he’s not moving. Like it’s hard for him to find the Zone to where he can sit still and not completely vibrate off his seat. So when he’s in Alola he like buys a bunch of different stim toys and Professor Kukui is kind of put off bu the amount he gets and the variety. Like I’m talking chew toys, the ones with silent buttons and tiny joy sticks, ones that just have weird textures that you just rub between your fingers, etc. Ash keeps them up in the loft near his bag of clothes and away from where Rockruff/Lycanroc can get to them and only takes one until it’s either destroyed/lost/or he ends up giving it to one of his friends who need to get some extra energy out and they usually forget to give it back to him until the end of the day. Kukui starts to see Ash’s grades rise pretty steadily and even starting to surpass a few others in the class, though he still lacks in certain categories like Math and Reading. Surprisingly Ash is excelling rapidly in the writing and history portion and during history lessens actually gently corrects Kukui on a few more really big recent events.

——

So like all the Champions father around for a more personal Q&A type of interview and one of the questions are “what’s your favorite type of flavor/food/dessert/etc? and why?”

Ash excitedly blurts out honey and that actually surprises a few of them, they honestly thought Ash would just say that he liked all foods. He goes and explains that his Grandma, before she past away, in Galar had this GIANT honey farm and she had stacks upon stacks of books ranging from dinner books to dessert books that use’s honey in the dishes. She had different flavors of honey, honey ice cream, somehow frozen honey that you suck on like a lollipop, this list goes on and on. She died when he was around 8 and all her bee Pokémon were donated to other honey farmers that she knew and wrote into her will. Delia wasn’t a fan of the bee Pokémon’s so she didn’t get one and Ash was really sad about that. He deflates afterwards and admitted he’s never had any of those treats/foods after her death besides plain honey sticks because he can’t find anything else that matches up to his Grandma’s honey and he’s not very keen on going and finding some bee Pokémon on his own since they need extensive care and constant attention which Ash can’t give with his lifestyle and work load.

Wallace soon pipes up that his favorite food of all time is actually mint chocolat ice cream because he and his dad, before he passed away from stage two Cancer, would go out each weekend in the summer tk a nearby ice cream stand and buy one come each before walking around the park that was right next to their house.

Leon adds that he actually likes food with lavender some how incorporated into it because his dad also liked lavender as well. He always brings a few lavender flowers every time he visits his dads grave with Hop when both are free to do so and that there’s only one restaurant in Wyndon that makes lavender ice cream and he and Raihan goes and get one after every match they have together. Even though Raihan likes stuff with Lemon in it instead of lavender.

Wallace jokes that Steven only likes plain stuff with vanilla in it but Lance fires back that Wallace always tries and makes homemade vanilla ice cream every year in Stevens birthday because he loves him.

Cynthia joins in that she craves mangos most of the time and she admits that she gets that from her Grandpa and even owns a giant cook book with all kinds of recipes with mangos incorporated.

Diantha likes dragon fruit a lot though she doesn’t have anything like a cookbook, she really likes this one restaurant that has a cooked dragon fruit dessert though.

Alder likes anything with cinnamon, he gets some light jokes at his dispense because of his hair color and him liking cinnamon, it was something he always loved from childhood.

———

Lance surprisingly wears the least amount of sleep wear among the Champions while Ash wears the most.

Like the most Lance is willing to wear on his very rare days off is a see through tank top and like some basketball shorts and that’s it.

Ash on the other hand is wearing a pair of sleep shorts under some giant pajama pants he snatched from one of his friends, a shirt, thick ass sweatshirt, and two pairs of socks on his feet.

———

Leon has this thing where he swaps one of his pillows with one of the reigning champions pillows. Like he has a red silky one from Lance, a soft white sliky one from Diantha, a long tan cased one from Alder, a black one from Steven and Wallace, and finally a grey t-shirt cotton one from Ash.

R*se tried to sneakily switch those pillows out for ones that actually match Leon’s room decor and bed spread. Leon got really offended that Rose would do such a thing, let alone having a fucking spare key to his house when Leon knows for a fact he didn’t say R*se or Oleana could have one, and promptly moved all his stuff from his house back to his mum’s and then sold his Wyndon house. R*se called Leon a child but Leon had called him out over Twitter and started the trend #PillowSnatcher

———

Alder can sing and sing very well. He usually only does it when one of his fellow colleagues are stressed or panicked. It’s deep and ironically his favorite song to sing under his breath is Chocolate Rain.

He finds it worryingly that he sings to Ash most of the time after he joins them on the line up, that and Leon is also an increasingly new occurrence.

———

Lance is League DadTM and Diantha runs an account where she, Cynthia, Alder, and the rest of the League try and catch Lance being a DadTM to Ash, Leon, and younger league members. It’s always captioned with “League Dad Strikes Again!” And Lance both hates it and loves it so much because it means he’s getting soft but Lance also doesn’t want to stop being a League DadTM because of the way the younger League always smiles more brightly at him when Lance remembers what snack or drink they like to consume after a hard day or by even just remembering their name at all.

He especially loves it when Ash gets all tired, this happened when he was much younger and started out as Lance’s secondary Champion, and sways on his feet back and forth nearing the end of a social gathering or some other kind of high end event. He was Lance’s escape excuse and he also liked to pick Ash up and have the kid snuggle into him. That action always bright him some sort of comfort knowing that he’s helping Ash.

———

On Mario Kart night they always end off it with a short Disney movie. Ash always finds himself squished between Lance and Leon. They’ed take the deepest couch to accommodate both Leon and Lance’s shoulder width. Ash would be settled on Leon’s chest and Lance would be facing away from the screen and curled up in Leon’s side. None of them really remember when this started but it soon became their end of the night ritual.

Leon also had to carry Lance and Ash back up to their secret rooms and more often then naught Leon got pulled into one of their beds for continued cuddling.

———

Speaking of Game Night!

Ash is usually the first one to the house that they always rent, and by ‘rent’ I mean it’s Wallace’s passed Uncles house that was given to him through his Will and that Wallace let’s people rent it out because it’s big and fancy and really affordable, and sets up everything.

This is where Ash’s keen sense of smell comes into play heavily becaus to him if one Champions smell mixes with another it could cause him to go into a bad headache. Like if the two Champions are cuddling or standing together Ash is completely fine! It’s just the objects that reek with their smell.

Wallace and Steven are by the lover sofa closest to the fire, Cynthia and Diantha have their blankets and pillows spilling onto the floor off of the two person sofa because that’s how they usually end up, Lance is mostly on the floor or he’ll join Alder who has the longest Sofa in the furthest in the back because he likes to read and also people watch the other Champions having fun, and Ash and Leon mostly share the more deeper width couch since Leon likes to use this time to catch up and sleep and Ash likes to use Leon as a cuddle buddy.

All their stuff is color coded as well; Wallace has teal, Steven has gray, Diantha has black, Diantha has white, Alder had reddish-orange, Lance has a dark red, Leon has purple, and Ash has dark blue.

Usually at the end of the night everyone kind of steal one thing from everyone else’s piles throughout the night. Like Wallace and Steven would be sharing one of Lance’s blankets and Wallace would have stollen Diantha’s Pangoro Pillow Pet. Alder has taken one of Ash’s pillows that had fallen to the floor and one of Stevens gray weighted blankets out of his thirty-something spares because EVERYONE likes to steal his weighted blankets instead of bringing their own.

———

All the rest of the adults are very worried for Ash’s mental health and would constantly ask if he’s okay or if there’s anything they can do to help support him or his friends. Like the kid could ask for anything and they’ll try their damn best to get it for him because Ash has risked his life for the world and their Region. It’s the least they can do for him.

This also causes Ash to get very awkward and uncharacteristically shy most of the time or to start crying softly because what their doing is a hell of a lot more then a lot of people back at his home town and this is including his mom and Professor Oak who prefer not to talk about Ash’s... Little Incidents.

The first crying session had Lance practically pulling tooth by tooth out of Ash until the older champion got the whole storie. Lance then preceded to pull every blackmail, illegal evidence, and use almost every advantage of his title and position to get the kid to be able to meet Lance’s therapist. Ash was floored and very shy through out most of it until the end when Lance’s therapist made a little headway into Ash’s obvious PTSD and problems.

It’s kind of become their thing that every time Ash is home for more then a few weeks he and Lance would go to their Therapist for a joint session over something they both share. After they leave they go to a nearby tea shop and talk about some much more lighter subjects.

———

Ash bickers a lot with most of the Legendaries. It’s gotten to the point of sibling like name calling. There’s videos taken of Ash calmly calling Zekrom a dirt eater or Kyogre a off colored off sized Wailord.

———

Back to the favorite food thing. Ash has this stupid fucking OP ability where if he consumes any kind of thing with honey in it, all his open wounds/big bruises would magically stitch back together. No one, and including Ash, knows where he got the stupid ability or when it started to happen but after every big Incident or when he gets hurt Ash, his friends, or a league member would go quickly grab him something with honey in it.

His favorite so far has to be some hibiscus tea with honey that Professor Kukui made him after they had come back from saving Lusamine. Ash had gotten large bruises at his side and Kukui worriedly watched them slowly disappear after like five minutes and Ash had gulped down three cups of the cold tea.

[addercharmer]

The mall was oddly empty for a Friday afternoon, Izumi was stupidly glad. 

Making her way to the center fountain, Izumi keeps her eyes searching for one of her friends' hair colors. 

Sky blue was the first she saw already standing by the fountain. Kayama had walked up to the blue haired boy at the same time as Izumi did. 

"Hiya!" She chirped once she was within hearing range. 

"Hey, thanks for the help. I have no idea what to get a six year old boy." Izumi greets and thanks them again. 

"Six?" Shirakumo asks, he looks deep in thought. 

"Un, six. He has wings so I figure he needs a full sized bed at least, and if he has any bird-like instincts a lot of blankets." Izumi explains a little more. 

"Yo, yo, yo." Yamada announces his arrival in his new favorite fashion, Izumi is just waiting for him to start calling everyone 'listeners'. 

Aizawa is right behind Yamada, his eyes zero in on Izumi's empty hands. "I thought I said bring coffee." He grumbles. 

"I figured you would want fresh hot coffee, we can get that first." Izumi plasates her hands raised in a sign of surrender. 

The glare she gets in return would have made her shrink in on herself if not for the uptick of the corner of Aizawa's mouth. 

With a sigh Izumi looks around quickly and starts making her was to the coffee house she sees just to the left of where they are. 

"So coffee, then a furniture store, a home store for the blankets and pillows, then maybe a toy store?" Izumi asks her friends. 

"No clothes?" Kayama asks. 

"I've never seen him so I will have to go out for those tomorrow, maybe you could come again?" Izumi half asks. "I have terrible fashion sense, like most of my clothes are bought by dad." She admits. 

Behind her Izumi can hear Shirakumo and Aizawa snort. 

"You aren't much better." Yamada tells the pair as he passes them to walk next to Izumi. 

"I can help tomorrow." He tells her as they cross into the coffee house. 

Izumi is the first to the counter, she orders herself a caramel frozen coffee and indicates to the barista that she was paying for the rest of the group. 

Drinks in hand the five teens make there way to a furniture store that advertised that they specialized in physical mutation needs. 

Izumi was a little awed at what she saw, there were nests, and wet beds, and beds made extra sturdy. 

She automatically made her way over to the beds that looked like giant shallow bowls. It took a few moments for a salesperson to make their way over. 

"Can I help you?" A woman who had large horns that curled at the side of her head much like a mountain goats' asked. 

"My dad is adopting a boy with wings. We need a bed." She tells the salesperson bluntly. "I just want to see what each mattress is made of before I choose." 

Izumi steps away from the woman and reaches for the information card of the first bowl like bed. She takes time to read the ten options as her friends lay in each of them to judge which feels better. 

It's the first one she had seen that she picked had an inside made of gel and memory foam, it would be best to offer support no matter Hawks preferred sleeping position. 

Aizawa and Kayama both agreed that it was the most comfortable, where Yamada and Shirakumo both argued that the one that was simply weaved fabric was the most comfortable. 

Taking the ordering card she stops by a dark cherry wood bed frame and matching desk, picking up the cards for those as well. Izumi makes her way to the check out. 

"Can I have these rush delivered before seven tonight?" Izumi asks as the three items are being rung up. 

"It will be an extra charge of one hundred dollars." The horned woman tells her. 

"Okay." Izumi agrees, Nezu hadn't given her a limit, he had just said not to go overboard. 

Izumi takes the delivery form and fills it out quickly, she then swipes Nezu's credit card with a pleased hum. 

As she's gathering with the others to leave she spots an ash wood dining table, quickly she grabs the information cards and runs back to the check out. 

The transaction complete without the rush delivery Izumi makes her way out of the store to where the others are waiting. 

"Sorry, we didn't have a dining room at the old house." She tells them. 

"Old house? Did you move?" Shirakumo asks and Izumi looks at him before she remembers that she hadn't told them yet. 

"Yeah, dad had our stuff moved during the festival. He bought this huge place on Sakura Ave." She shares the news. "Us getting the baby bird was riding on my being a medalist in the festival." 

The three boys' faces suddenly look horror stricken at the revelation, and Kayama looks extremely sad. 

"The commission is evil." Izumi deadpans, before she grabs Kayama's wrist to link their arms at the elbow. 

"So, are we close enough to use first names now that you know I'm getting a little brother?" She asks the group, using their last names asked he feel a little like they are her teachers still. 

"Izumi-chan!" Nemuri and Oboro both shout at the same time. 

"I was already using it, Izumi-chan." Hizashi points out. 

Shōta grumbles under his breath but his cheeks are pink and he nods. 

Izumi bounces as she walks into the home store, she's happy she's got friends. 

Looking around the entrance of the store Izumi spots signs hanging over their heads and pointing to where they should be able to find what they are looking for. 

Arm still linked with Nemuri she starts off towards the bedroom designated area. 

"I think we should split up." She suggests. "Nemuri and Oboro, would you guys look for some pillows, I think maybe two regular sized, one body sized, and maybe four smaller ones in fun shapes?" 

The two of them link their own arms and skip off towards where the pillows are. "Don't forget to grab sheets and pillow cases." Izumi shouts after them. 

Feeling bold, Izumi links arms with both Hizashi and Shōta Izumi all but drags them over to the blankets. 

The three of them spend half an hour testing each blanket for softness, and weight. By the end they had seven blankets picked out, two were weighted blankets that weren't supposed to hold heat but still give the needed weight, Izumi had selected one for herself as well. The other five blankets were a variety Of different fluffiness and thickness, Izumi's favorite was a pastel green that was the second softest thing she had ever held. 

Nemuri and Oboro still hadn't found them so Izumi was quick to text and ask where they were. 

The group of three found the two sitting in the middle of an isle debating the best fabrics for the sheets, Izumi laughed at them as Shōta joined in arguing for and against them both. 

Looking at what they had pulled off the shelves Izumi grabbed two that were a high thread count, one black and one gray, then she picked up a jersey knit set in a sky blue. 

Holding the packages tight to her chest she picked up one of the small pillows on the ground and tossed it at Shōta hitting him in the chest with a thump. 

"Come on guys, toy store next, you can each pick out two things for him." She tells them, trying not to feel like a parent negotiating with children. 

With Hizashi carrying one weighted blanket and five fluffy ones, Shōta carrying her weighted blanket and the body pillow, it left Nemuri and Oboro to gather up the six smaller pillows makes for a comical sight as they make their way to the registers. 

Choosing to buy reusable fabric bags for the purchase, Izumi let's the boys in their group carry everything to the last stop of the day, once there they grab two carts to give everyone free hands, and a place to put their choices. 

Each broke off in seperate directions at first, but then all of the gravitated to the area that held the stuffed animals. 

Izumi herself had chosen a pack of puzzles that would hopefully be fun but challenge Hawks mind before she went and selected a green bunny that's fur was surprisingly close to her hair, and a white bear that looked the closest she could find to Nezu. 

The others had all grabbed games that could be played with others, but the stuffed animal choices were what had Izumi grinning. Shōta had chosen a black cat, Nemuri had chosen a classic brown otter, Oboro and chosen a purple octopus, and Hizashi had chosen a bright eye searing yellow bird. 

After paying Izumi checked the time, it was only five-thirty.

Looking back at her friend she quickly asked. "Wanna come over for dinner? Maybe help me build the bed?"

Four agreements later of different levels of energy had Izumi grabbing three of the six bags of toys, leaving the others to sort the rest out themselves until they got outside and called a taxi. She made her way to the entrance of the mall that she had originally come from. 

Against Izumi's usual luck there is a taxi large enough for all of them already sitting curb side, knocking on the window with her free hand she catches the driver's attention. They open the back of the van once they catch sight of Izumi and unlocks the doors as the others load up the back.

"Thank you, we are going to seven-two-eight Sakura Ave South." Izumi says as she climbs into the front seat. 

The four teens in the back are all arguing loudly with each other on what they should order for dinner, Izumi figures that in the end they will order pizza. 

"Damn." Oboro says as they pull up to the house. 

Silently Izumi agrees, outwardly she says. "It's big because we have some people that are going to need a new place to live soon." 

Unloading everything from the back of the taxi goes just about as well as loading did, each of the boys fighting over who would take the heaviest things, Izumi just rolled her eyes as she paid the driver. 

Izumi is the first to make it to the door and opens it only to stop and carefully listen for any noise that would let her know if someone is home. 

It's all quiet, and Izumi is pretty happy that she still has a little time, she knows that the commission is in Tokyo, and it's about an hour and a half drive from UA where Nezu had to stop to get his specially designed car. 

That alone meant three hours of travel time, and Izumi thought that the commission was going to drag their feet as long as they possibly could. She would need to order enough food for Nezu and 'Keigo'. 

All four teens finally in the house Izumi led them to the second level and into the empty room. 

Earlier when she had noted the dimensions of the room she hadn't paid attention to the wall or carpet color, but she was happy to see that the carpet was a dark chocolate brown, and that three of the four walls were such a light brown they almost looked cream, the fourth wall was a dark green that without a light on Izumi guess it would look black. 

They all piled the bags in one corner of the room to keep it mostly out of the way to get the furniture set up. 

Half way down the stairs Izumi felt like hitting herself. 

"We forgot a desk chair and curtains." She said and brought her hand to slap her forehead. 

"Shit." Nemuri said and pouted. 

"Get them tomorrow." Shōta told her as he pinched his nose. "You promised food."

Getting everyone situated in the living room took some shuffling, Izumi had asked the boys to move the couches into Nezu's prefered position of ninety degrees of each other with the one that looked more used facing the window. Izumi then pushed the coffee table parallel to the window as well. 

"Sorry no T.V but we do have my laptop and a project." She told them preemptively, ash she dug around in the box labeled electronics. 

Making a squeak of triumph when she pulled out the box that they always kept the projector and all its cables in. 

She drops it carefully on the coffee table and then runs up the stairs again to grab her laptop out of the same lockbox that her phone was in. 

Back in the living room again she hears the same argument from in the taxi about food, with a sigh of resignation she sits herself infront of the coffee table, situates her laptop on its serface and opens it up to load. 

Once the password window opens she has Nemuri looking over her shoulder, she's greatful that it's a current hero's quirk that she needs to match the name with and not the name of someone from her original hero class. 

"What's that?" The other girl asks.

"Oh, dad had me write my own password program, it shows a picture related to a hero's quirk and then I have to put in the hero name for the password." Izumi explains simply. 

"Huh, can you do that on anything?" Shōta asks from where he is now leaning over Nemuri to see better.

"Yea, I have something similar to it on my phone, that one makes me put in the date and time according to the twenty-four hour clock." Izumi explains and shows them what she means. 

All of them look interested in the program on her phone and if they ask Izumi is willing to put the program on their devices. 

"Anyway, food. I want to make sure we have enough for dad and the baby bird. Dad likes cheese pizza when we order out, and I think the profile I saw said that Keigo likes fried chicken." Izumi says as she pulls up the webpage for Nezu's prefered pizza place. 

"Oh, I'll eat cheese pizza!" Nemuri says with a happy smile on her lips. 

"Pepperoni." Is Shōta input. 

"Cheese!" Hizashi almost slips into his quirk but Shōta quickly looks at the blond with his own active. 

"Pepperoni." Oboro yells, throwing his hands in the air. 

"So two large cheese, two large pepperoni, and sixty boneless wings sauce on the side." Izumi says as she clicks on their chosen meals adding sauces all in the mild range. "It will be here soon." 

"So what movie are we watching?" Hizashi asks the group. 

"Prequirk or post quirk?" Izumi asks them, she personally preferred prequirk, especially when it came to thrillers or animated movies. 

"Prequirk." Shōta demands when the others are silent. Izumi grins at the boy, she's going to put on a thriller. 

"Kiss the girls, it is!" She announces not giving them any choice. 

A few clicks later she has the movie ready to play, and she's connecting the projector and linking it up against the wall kiddy corner to the window. 

Looking over her shoulder she then skips over to the window to cover the half closest to the wall. 

Getting back to where she was originally sitting, Izumi started the movie. 

"You want to know all about me don't you?"  

The voice of a male actor filled the room. 

It didn't take long for the four others in the room to lose themselves in the movie, all of them silent.

It was eight when the others left, giving themselves enough time to reach their own homes before it was dark. 

And it was around nine when Nezu and Keigo got to the house, the bed and desk had been delivered and assembled by the delivery team at six-thirty leaving the small group of teens with nothing to assemble. 

"Izumi, we're home." Nezu calls as he opens the door. 

"Welcome home!" Izumi calls back from the living room where she is working on unpacking all their books after she did her best to set up Keigo's room, even using one of her own sheets as a makeshift curtain. 

When Nezu makes his way into the room he is trailed by the most adorable little boy she had ever seen. 

"Keigo, this is Izumi." Nezu says gently. 

Izumi dropped to her knees to be at eye level. "Hi Keigo, it's nice to meet you." She says slowly and carefully. 

"H-hi." The little blond whispers, she sounds scared but oh so hopeful. 

Izumi opens her arms slowly and carefully before asking. "Can I ha:?" 

Keigo doesn't wait for her to finish the question before he throws himself in her arms. Izumi rubs one hand in slow circles on his lower back as her other cards through his hair. 

"Welcome home Keigo." Izumi says again just to make the boy understand in some way that this is his home now. 

Keigo refuses to let go of her even as he eats the chicken she had ordered for him, his eyes light up with pure glee on the first bite and he inhales the rest one handed, the other tangled in Izumi's shirt with a healthy helping of hair as well. 

Izumi smiles at the boy as he falls asleep, she's careful when she lifts him and carries him up the stairs. The only problem was that he had a death grip on her shirt and hair, no matter how she tried he wouldn't let go. 

With a sigh Izumi gave up and picked the winged little boy back up and took him to her room. It was an awkward ten minutes as she balanced Keigo in one arm and wiggled out of her jeans and then into a pair of pajama pants. 

Izumi felt another flash or rage at the commission at the same time she was also grateful, the only clothes that Keigo had arrived with was two sets of child sized white scrubs. They would be comfortable to sleep in but they were not something she would ever put a child in daily.

With more careful maneuvering Izumi crawled into bed and the shifted Keigo so he was laying with his chest diagonally across her own, his wings spread out making a blanket of their own for Izumi, even as she pulled one over his back as well. 

"Sleep well my rosefinch." She whispered into the mess of blond fluff that was Keigo's hair. 

[fikazephyr]

information and statistics for mantotohpa wallace

including an in-depth personality analysis

BASIC INFORMATION

Full name: Mantotohpa Akio Wallace Nicknames: Toto, Akio (his dad) Age: 19 Date of Birth: February 21st, 2002 (12pm) Hometown: Forks, WA Current location: Salem, MA Ethnicity: Japanese, Native-American, Caucasian Nationality: American Gender: cisgender male (he/him) Sexuality: Pansexual, Panromantic Religion: Pagan Political Affiliation: Unaffiliated Occupation: Student Languages spoken: Whulshootseed, English, Japanese Accent: Western American

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

Face Claim: Booboo Stewart Hair Colour: Darkest Brown, almost black Eye Colour: Brown Weight: 170lbs Height: 5′8 Build: Athletic between Lean & Burly Tattoos: None Piercings: None

PERSONALITY

Label: The Downtrodden Positive Traits: +enthusiastic, resilient, welcoming, earnest, loyal, gregarious Negative Traits: - awkward, distracted, sensitive, clumsy, flighty, passive Goals/Desires: to learn more about where he comes from and what his blood pack was like.  Fears: death, losing control and hurting someone, his mother finding him Hobbies: 

FAMILY

Father: adriel wallace. (46) Mother: akira todoroki. (44) Sibling(s): unnamed wallace. (26) Children: none. Pet(s): none, sadly.

EXTRA

Zodiac Sign: Pisces - “As the twelfth and last sign of the zodiac, Pisces contains within itself a little experience of all the signs. This gives Pisces Suns the ability to identify with people from all walks of life—from all backgrounds—in some way. These individuals are not only changeable and adaptable, but they also have open minds and tremendous understanding. But Pisces itself is often misunderstood. Pisces Suns may spend a good portion of their lives yearning for understanding, and the other part in a state of divine discontent. Suffering is sometimes glamorized in the Piscean world.Sun in Pisces people are frequently pegged as wishy-washy, but this is all a matter of opinion. What you will find behind a vaguely directionless, spacey manner is a deep person with real dreams. Their dreams are more than getting that picket fence or making it up the corporate ladder. Pisces are tuned in to a higher purpose and their dreams transcend the individual. A deep love for humanity and compassion that knows no bounds is found with this placement of the Sun.” MBTI: ESFJ-T - The Consul. “People who share the Consul personality type are, for lack of a better word, popular – which makes sense, given that it is also a very common personality type, making up twelve percent of the population. In high school, Consuls are the cheerleaders and the quarterbacks, setting the tone, taking the spotlight and leading their teams forward to victory and fame. Later in life, Consuls continue to enjoy supporting their friends and loved ones, organizing social gatherings and doing their best to make sure everyone is happy. Discussing scientific theories or debating European politics isn’t likely to capture Consuls’ interest for too long. Consuls are more concerned with fashion and their appearance, their social status and the standings of other people. Practical matters and gossip are their bread and butter, but Consuls do their best to use their powers for good.“ Alignment: Chaotic Good - “A chaotic good character acts as his conscience directs him with little regard for what others expect of him. He makes his own way, but he's kind and benevolent. He believes in goodness and right but has little use for laws and regulations. He hates it when people try to intimidate others and tell them what to do. He follows his own moral compass, which, although good, may not agree with that of society.Chaotic good is the best alignment you can be because it combines a good heart with a free spirit.Chaotic good can be a dangerous alignment when it disrupts the order of society and punishes those who do well for themselves.“ Enneagram: Type 2 - The Helper. “We have named personality type Two The Helper because people of this type are either the most genuinely helpful to other people or, when they are less healthy they are the most highly invested in seeing themselves as helpful. Being generous and going out of their way for others makes Twos feel that theirs is the richest, most meaningful way to live. The love and concern they feel—and the genuine good they do—warms their hearts and makes them feel worthwhile. Twos are most interested in what they feel to be the “really, really good” things in life—love, closeness, sharing, family, and friendship.“ Celtic Tree: Ash - “Ash individuals have a dual nature, trying to balance their artistic and vulnerable side with their logical and realistic side. They are compassionate and sensitive, with a strong intuition. They could do well financially if they followed through on their ideas.“ Temperament: Sanguine - “People with a sanguine personality type tend to be lively, optimistic, buoyant, and carefree. They love adventure and have high risk tolerance.Sanguine people are typically poor at tolerating boredom and will seek variety and entertainment. Naturally, this trait can sometimes negatively affect their romantic and other relationships.” Hogwarts House: Hufflepuff - “Hufflepuff is the most inclusive among the four houses; valuing hard work, dedication, patience, loyalty, and fair play rather than a particular aptitude in its students. Hufflepuffs were known to have a strong moral code, and a sense of right and wrong. Hufflepuffs were usually accepting of everyone.” Primary Vice: Sloth - ““Unlike the other capital sins, which are sins of committing immorality, sloth is a sin of omitting responsibilities. It may arise from any of the other capital vices; for example, a son may omit his duty to his father through anger. While the state and habit of sloth is a mortal sin, the habit of the soul tending towards the last mortal state of sloth is not mortal in and of itself except under certain circumstances.” Primary Virtue: Humility - “Humility is the quality of being humble. Dictionary definitions accentuate humility as a low self-regard and sense of unworthiness. In a religious context humility can mean a recognition of self in relation to a deity (i.e. God) or deities, and subsequent submission to said deity as a member of that religion. Outside of a religious context, humility is defined as being “unselved”, a liberation from consciousness of self, a form of temperance that is neither having pride (or haughtiness) nor indulging in self-deprecation.“ Element: Fire - “Your priority in life: Joy. You’re a free spirit, with a great need for fun in life. Fire people seek stimulation and so tend to always have a lot of balls in the air because they hate to be bored! Your secret to success: Communication. You easily communicate your thoughts and feelings and are naturally warm and affectionate. Fire people love heartfelt conversations with another person, whether in a lifelong romance or 30 seconds in the lift.”

[brideofcthulhu10]

Behold another Lost Boys holiday special! It was between this and Valentine’s day, but honestly I love writing Christmas specials, its such a cozy time despite the high suicide rates, but lets not get into that. A BIG SHOUT OUT TO @imlostinsantacarla FOR HELPING ME EDIT MY FINAL DRAFT!

Fun Fact! My husband, David (yes, that is actually his name) actually does have the bah humbug hat I mention in the head canons. He’s a heavy metal goth so when I found it at the store I had to get it for him. And you just know if our David found that, he wouldn’t be able to resist it!

Christmas with the Boys

Alright, so the whole touchy, feely and mushy feelings that surround even the topic of Christmas time is not something any of the boys will ever openly admit to enjoying. After all, they see themselves as these bad ass brutal killers who thrive off of death instead of holding hands and caroling with the goodie goodies of this coastal town. 

Yet, it's challenging for them not to get sucked into the glitz and glam of the holiday season. Everything is a big deal in Santa Carla. Dia De Los Muertos, Halloween, Thanksgiving- everything! But especially Christmas.

Christmas in Santa Carla dwarfs the frenzy craze of Halloween. The entirety of the boardwalk is decked out with red and green lights that are tightly wound around palm trees, red bulbous bows are wrapped tightly around street lamps, the reds and whites of velvety fabric swirl down the posts, creating the effect of candy canes. All the store windows are painted to appear frosted, or covered with painted snowmen whilst several rooftops are covered with white felt in which mimics the texture and sight of snow. Even the boats in the harbour are all extravagantly decorated in a sea of lights that parade around brightly at night in every color imaginable.

Between the dates of the 30th of November all the way to the 24th of December the city of Santa Carla hosts a plethora of wondrous events in it's annual Holiday Festival. Large green, white and red kiosks are erected, selling a wide range of baubles and treats, from delectable chocolate coated rice krispy Santa Clauses, elf candy apples caked in a plethora of dark chocolate and peppermint, to a variety of Holiday hats, masks and even hand made costumes by the many local artists. Even hand carved candles in wondrous scents of pine, mint, or spice.

Currently, David possesses a black fur Santa hat which he acquired on a night out that boasts the words "Bah Humbug" proudly sewn over the front. It's the only holiday attire he'll even humor. Last time Marko attempted to place reindeer antlers on his head, David had set them on fire roasting atop a pan of chestnuts. Now it's not to say that he's a grinch persay. Rather, the complex and intense emotions that come hand in hand with Christmas can leave him perpetually indifferent at best, disdainful at worst. The whole occasion leaves him displeased. After all, he was an orphan who had been almost eagerly abandoned by his hooker mother left to fend for himself from the beginning, and  of course never met his father. Even she could not identify which of her many clients may have been responsible. Most of his mortal life he had lived as a street rat, barely making ends meet by picking the pockets of tourists and Santa Carla citizens oblivious to the true dangers of the lower side of town. The rich and uppity classes who often snubbed their entitled noses his way would never suspect as he lurks between alleyways, leaving them cornered at knife point. It was scarce that he ever did see a kind face in the sea of those who had little interest for anyone that was not themselves. Back then it was rather uncommon for anyone to step outside their own little lives, which led to most interactions, outside of the other boys, having been met with great hostility, thus he had learned to be just as equally hostile in turn. Even the mere thought of anyone suddenly dawning a false kindness due to a certain time of year simply agitated David. It rattled him to the very core in a way very few other things did. Why bother with the lies? Couldn't people just face the very basic fact that they weren't nearly as charitable as they often deemed themselves to be? I mean, the young man had seen firsthand a family having previously snubbed a dirty homeless man with appalled disdain at the sight of his muddied clothes and dirt stained skin, only to then begin volunteering at a soup kitchen to purge whatever guilt they carried on their conscience once the holiday season began. The whole ordeal was pitiful! Nevertheless, - more so for Paul and Marko's sakes than his own -, he did humor these traditions amongst the holiday's festivities. Ruining a good time just wasn't his style. Unless they started fucking singing.

Most traditions David could tolerate, some he even enjoyed slightly; although he would never be caught dead admitting something as embarrassing as that! However, he just couldn't stand Christmas carols! They were the bain to his immortal existence. The repetitive nature of these overly cheery jingles left him covering his ears lest they nest in his brain leaving him humming the same damn melody for weeks. This was the case because the dynamic duo of dumbasses were well aware of his hatred for Rudolph the Red Nosed fuckin' roadkill! Stupid red nosed abomination. 

“OOOOOOH-,” Paul begins with cheerful mischief.

“Don’t. You. Fucking. Dare.” David seethes through tightly clenched teeth, eyes screwed shut in indignance. 

Paul hesitates. He looks at Marko. Marko looks at Paul. Wicked grins of agreement spread wide like wildfire across their faces as their master plan comes into play. Full throttle. What’s more fun than annoying the shit out of David? One on the left, the other on the opposite side of the cave on the right. This was nothing but Divine perfection if you asked the two troublesome vampires.

“OOOOOH DASHING THROUGH THE SNOW!” Paul belted out at full volume.

“IN A ONE HORSE OPEN SLEIGH!” Marko followed in suit, the widest eerie grin plastered on his face.

“OVER THE HILLS WE GOOOO” Paul howled enthusiastically. 

“I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU BOTH!” David's voice hit a whole new octave it had never in all his life so far. All the while Dwayne had opted to vacate the room lest he be caught in the middle of the escalating madness with Laddie in tow. He loved these guys, but not enough to dive head first into their fuckery.

Paul thrives during the Christmas holidays! How could he not? The food, the punk rock covers of Christmas songs, the absolute babes prancing around the town in Santa hats under mistletoe?! He loved it all! You can find him sneaking under mistletoe with many sweet honeys on a constant basis, regardless of whether or not he's acquainted with them. Most do roll their eyes or laugh it off, but every once in a blue moon the guy will get a little lovin' from a beach babe in the Yuletide mood. What else could he ask for? You can bet he’ll run into the woods December first, and quite literally RIP a pine tree out of the ground to bring home like a wee carrot being plucked from the ground. The bigger the better! He may even drag Dwayne or Marko along with him if it's too big for him to carry himself. And all the boozy drinks he can concoct up? This boy is in his element! Mulled wine, spiked eggnog, candy cane vodka, butterscotch bourbon hot chocolate?! Yes! David straight up refuses to try anything that Paul creates himself (remember the concoction he made in Max's kitchen? Those poor goldfish....) which is also another reason why he has Dwayne help him. Or rather, the other boys insist the most responsible of them monitors the blonde lest he poison them with some sickly brew. That, and the fact that Dwayne's the least likely out of all of them to blow up the damn kitchen!

Dwayne is indeed the designated cook during the holiday rush, albeit a field even he tends to struggle. Avoiding the kitchen catching aflame, perfecting his craft lest he blow up the stove, leaving only a pile of ash in its wake. As previously mentioned, ever since the dreadful chain of events that lead to the unfortunate destruction of Max's kitchen, this raven haired vampire has attempted his hand at learning to use a stove properly: Although he often finds himself forgetting ingredients either in the midst of cooking or after the final product is done and he's taken a big bite. 

“Shit! I forgot the milk and eggs!” Dwayne grumbled with a mouthful of dry crumbs, a true disgrace of a cookie.

Paul always gives him crap for it of course.

“Oooh I just thought you were going for a sandy, dusty dry cookie kinda thing.”

"Yeah man, these taste like ass!" Marko would cough out in midst of choking. 

"And what, like you dumbasses could do any better," Dwayne retorts with a huff. Only Star manages to have any manners when testing his failed baking endeavors.

"Well I mean, the taste isn't that bad. Just a little dry is all."

"At least Marko wouldn't be choking to death." David would mutter from the darkest corner of the room, a little late in the conversation.

In all honesty, Dwayne's biggest motivation when it came to improving his skills was obviously Laddie. The kid never got much of a Christmas whilst living with his mom, so now that he was with the boys, he wanted to ensure that Christmas's were something that Laddie would remember for all eternity. Though granted, it is quite the mess when he was helping in the kitchen. But when the mini vamp grins from ear to ear whilst coated in flour and rapidly stirring an overflowing bowl of chunky cookie dough--the sight is too freaking cute!

Since Laddie joined the boys, they participate in Secret Santa every single year, which definitely includes Paul bursting through the entrance of the hotel as Santa on Christmas day. We won't talk about the fact that each year he almost falls flat on his face and swears, ruining the surprise for the kid. 

"Santa where are your reindeer," he'd question, to which Santa Paul scoffs

"Pff, reindeer, I don't need any fucki- Ow," cut off by a firm and covert kick to the shin from Star, Paul quickly changes his response. "Oh! Ho ho, well, you see little boy, Santa can fly too! On his, uh, uhm… magic motorcycle! Yeah, that!"

But it's okay because Laddie already KNEW (he figured it out a year or two ago after Paul's beard fell off not once, but three times), he just doesn't have the heart to tell any of them because, well Paul really gets into it. And he knows the others are playing along for his sake. But to be fair, Laddie would have to be pretty dumb to believe it was Santa. I mean, the beard Paul's wearing is hanging half off his face by this point! But anyway, just like Paul's style, the entirety of the goody two shoes schpiel is thrown out the window, replaced with sleeves that have been ripped off, muddy boots, spiked bracelets and his Metallica shirt in full view beneath his flared red coat. He calls this BIKER CLAUS!

Laddie is not a squasher of traditions! But there was the one time that David had to intervene when Paul and Dwayne thought it would be great to use Laddie as the star at the top of the tree. David practically had a heart attack. Well, that's impossible but it still felt like he was having one!  

“Ho ho ho! Now, don’t be a bitch, little David or Santa will have to give you coal.” Paul stated mockingly to David, brows furrowed. 

“Well, Santa,” David scolds, a wry smile developing on his face when setting down the eight year old now off to shake his presents beneath their behemoth of a tree. “You best be careful. You never know what's in those milk and cookies, hm?”

Each year Marko buys bird toys for the pigeons in the hotel. Well, buy is probably the wrong word. More like he liberates the stores of their stock. And then for the next six months, David has to hear the agonizing jingle of bells. David almost roasted one pigeon in particular that kept flying over him to drop the ball with a bell in it on his head. That was Paul's entertainment for the next five hours, hell, he'd try to find it if the bird lost it and give it back. Marko defends the pigeon. Between running through stores buying up surprises for his friends, he's helping Paul throw out decorations for the cave. The dollar store has some surprisingly unexpected treasures, allowing him to deck the fucking halls to the max. Tinsel here, ornaments there,  tiny light up trees to hide around the caves, a butt ton of cinnamon pine cones which he ends up throwing back and forth with Paul.

And Paul often steals his gifts or goes dumpster diving for any hidden gems. He forgets to take the tags off of them the majority of the time, which is always an indicator whether or not its new. Any time Star asks where he got them from he refuses to answer. Just gets up and walks away. But for David's gift? Well this lucky bastard has found coal in the dumpster and chucks it to David when he's not looking and he sighs deeply in disappointment because this is the third year Paul has done this. 

 "Huh? What? Who did that? Wasn't me. Somebody's throwing stuff."

Other than that he'll find a fat bag of charcoal and just tape the name David on it. David is certainly not amused. Dwayne will actually try to figure out what the others want, and has the sense to save the money taken from their previous meals. After all, they're dead, they wouldn't have much use for it anyway. He's not about to waste his hypnosis on some poor cashier. That would be a waste of time in his eyes. 

When Christmas did arrive the tree was piled with mysterious boxes crudely mashed and taped together with bows and ribbons underneath it. It's obvious which ones are from Star since those gifts are wrapped in neatly pressed paper, wound tight beneath curled ribbons that remind the boys of her hair. Marko often goes on a food run rather than allow them all to be subjected to a potentially charred turkey, no offense to Dwayne of course. So, with a table covered from end to end with copious bowls of gravy, potatoes, candied sweet potatoes, a beast of a turkey in the center packed to the brim with cornbread stuffing, the boys cram into their chairs knocking back beers and spiked cider. Keeping to their own traditions, after fattening up, they gather around the tree and play card games, just as they had over eighty years ago on that frigid night. David still slays them in poker, and Marko is an utter dark horse when it comes to blackjack. Paul insists they try Go Fish. No one ever wants to play Go Fish. Closer towards the end of the night Dwayne will slip away to Jasper's shrine and bring him a fresh glass of rum as well as unwrapping what he got him that year. While Dwayne is there, the other boys will join him - omitting Star and Laddie left unaware of the Lost Boy they'd never met - in celebrating the last hour or so of the Holiday season with their fallen comrade.

Although Christmas time is often about uncomfortable mushy moments and emotions that create deep, unfamiliar times for David. The entire ordeal becomes that for everyone of the boys and Star. But God forbid anyone who even mentions it! I mean, it's kinda obvious though considering he's spending it with the people he always called family, knee deep in traditions that are sentimental to himself and the boys. There's a fluster of emotions running rampant during this particular Holiday Season, and although the blonde brooding vampire decides to squint at it with skepticism he savors these moments, knowing like Jasper, it could all be swept away with a single ray of light or the foolish hand of a hunter. So as they sit, drunk, full, and laughing beside Jasper's grave he can't help but smile at the sentimentality of it all. Christmas is a pain in the ass, but… it's a pain he'll gladly sit through for his brothers.

[spookyceph]

Rating: Teen and up

Crossposted on Ao3

Day 1 | Prompt: Fantasy

A Small Price to Pay

Appearing unremarkable was an underrated skill. So many people wasted their lives scrambling to be noticed. They traded away their dignity and sense for scraps of fame or fortune as if it would change their fate. Nobles, beggars, warlords, courtesans, criminals, heroes—they all wound up feeding the worms in the end. Tomura would know. He’d sent more than one of each category to their graves with a dagger slipped through the ribs.

The man who’d just strolled through the open tavern door, however, couldn’t have avoided attention even if he’d been making an effort. He wore all black, for one thing. The only variety came from the iron studs glittering across the shoulders and on the half-sleeves of his long leather coat. Even his disheveled hair had been dyed—that shade of coal couldn’t be natural. Like most not in Tomura’s line of work, he probably believed black was the ideal color for stealth. In truth, an entire outfit declared, Look! I’m up to no good and I think I’m being sneaky about it! Clothing in a drab, washed-out brown, like the threadbare cloak Tomura had draped around his shoulders, actually worked best. With wisps of his white hair sticking out from the hood, he’d easily be taken for an old drunk nodding off over his drink. No one of note. Certainly not the heir to the most feared assassins’ guild in the empire.

The stranger approached the bar. His step hesitated for a split second when faced with the rippling construct of shadow—a guild contact by the name of Kurogiri—who was tending it. Tomura channeled his energy into a bouncing leg as the pair conversed. After a minute or two, Kurogiri fetched a wooden cup and filled it with the tavern’s finest for the man in black, who must have given all the correct pass phrases because he turned and looked directly at Tomura’s corner.

His flashy clothing was nothing compared to his skin.

Initially, Tomura thought he was staring at raw, purple muscle stretched over the stranger’s forearms, neck, and lower half of his face. Not flayed, he realized several stunned seconds later. Burned. Some disaster or curse had charred his skin in impossibly symmetrical patches. Even more striking were the neat rows of slim silver rings running along the seams, binding living and ruined flesh. They flaunted what might have been a disfigurement as decoration instead. To anyone with a taste for the macabre, the effect came across as artistic. Even beautiful.

Tomura hated him instantly. Still, he regulated his breathing and didn’t allow his hands to lift from the table to scratch his neck while the ostentatious bastard meandered his way to the table to join him. Master All For One had entrusted him with assembling the team that would eventually topple the empire. If he meant to take over the guild one day—meant to rid the world of hypocrites and bootlickers like Yagi Toshinori, the Emperor’s Champion—he would need to deal with people he didn’t care for. Nothing would get done if he just shut himself in his room and played out ancient battles with maps and models forever.

The man in black stopped at the chair to Tomura’s left, resting long, slender fingers on its back. The blue of his eyes shone as bright as the center of the flame in the tin oil lamp sitting on the table.

“Evening. Mind if I join you?” His voice shared none of the swagger of his appearance. Low and soft, Tomura had to strain to hear it.

“If I did,” he snapped, patience frayed along the edges, “you’d be on the floor already, choking on your own blood.”

This warm welcome only made the man smile, silver rings pulling at scar tissue. He sat and made the mistake of actually drinking the ale.

Now here was something to cheer him up. A nasty grin stretched Tomura’s own scar, slashed straight down the side of his cracked lips. “How is it?”

The stranger tilted his head, peering into his cup as if he’d caught something swimming in it. “I think the only thing more likely to kill me is the water.” Regardless, he took another swig.

Bah. No fun after all. Mouth sagging into a grimace, Tomura pushed his own cup away just a bit more. “So. You’re the flame mage looking to tag along on the job.”

“Afraid so. Call me Dabi. And you’re the dreaded Shigaraki Tomura, protégé of the most feared criminal overlord in the empire.”

“The same. What makes you think you’d be any use to me, Lord Call-Me-Dabi? Looking at you, I’d say your spells blow up in your face more often than they hit your enemies.”

To his credit and Tomura’s further exasperation, the mage didn’t lunge at the bait. “If only it were that simple. My scars,” he lifted his rough, pitted arms, turning them over and back for display, “are the result of my father making a deal with a demon.”

Tomura had to catch himself before he looked Dabi directly in the face and revealed too much of his own. “Your father did what?”

That earned a wagging finger. “I’ll tell you the story…but only in exchange for answering a question about your own past.”

Unease played with the hair along the back of Tomura’s neck. “Let’s hear this question first.”

“Fair enough. I want to know whether it’s true you’re cursed to destroy anything you touch.”

Muscles knotting down his spine, Tomura stiffened. How did this flashy asshole know more about his past than Sensei’s own network of informants had been able to dig up on him? Was he lying about the demon story just to get Tomura to talk? For what purpose? He couldn’t determine an advantage for doing so. But…since he already knew about the curse there didn’t seem to be any use in hiding it. Anyway, maybe his reaction would reveal further clues.

Reaching out with his left hand and keeping his right on one of the daggers sheathed against his ribcage, Tomura touched Dabi’s cup with all five fingers. A series of soft crackles filled the silence as the wood split apart first along the grain, then into individual fibers before disintegrating into a powdery ash that plopped to the table as a pile of mush when combined with the ale. The mage’s eyes became as round and shiny as marbles.

“Fascinating.” He lifted one of his own half-scarred hands. Instead of curiously poking the mound of pulp, though, Dabi went for Tomura’s wrist. His fingers brushed skin, warmer than the sunlight it rarely encountered, before Tomura recoiled.

“Are you insane?”

“Depends who you ask.”

Two fingers carefully folded against his palms, Tomura tucked his hands under his elbows and shoved away suddenly intrusive thoughts of what the mage’s touch might feel like on other parts of him. “How did you hear I’m cursed?”

Dabi chuckled, low and deep and quiet like his voice. The sound sent a little thrill racing out from Tomura’s belly to the crown of his head before plummeting straight down to the tips of his toes, which curled in his boots. Bastard. He had to be using some sort of enchantment to enhance his voice. Had to. “So many questions. Information is too valuable to just give away, though. You of all people should know that.”

Tomura’s jaw clenched hard enough to make his teeth squeak. “What do you want?”

“Nothing much—the answer ties in with your initial question, actually. A kiss should cover it.”

The remaining cup of ale tipped over and splashed its contents across the table as Tomura sprang up, jostling the edge.

“You want what?” He could sense the eyes of the handful of other patrons in the tavern locked on him from the outburst. Kurogiri, surely, must have been staring at him like he’d lost his mind. But Tomura couldn’t stop gawking at Dabi, who, despite an amused quirk of the brows, didn’t appear to be joking.

“A kiss in exchange for information,” the mage said. “To be collected in private, at your earliest convenience, of course. A more than agreeable price, if you ask me.”

For the first time in his life, Tomura was left speechless. “Wha…but…you…”

“’Why a kiss’, you ask?”

“Yes.”

Dabi’s shoulders bobbed in a shrug. “There’s already plenty of gold to be had for accepting this job from the guild. Ten tablets of gold upon completion, wasn’t it? A story about kissing a deadly assassin and living to tell the tale, though? Much harder to come by. Anyway, it seems fitting. I tell you something interesting about my past and you give me a new tidbit to share in the future.”

“You’re out of your mind.”

“I thought we already touched on that subject.” Leathery forearms folded on the table, the mage craned forward. “So? How about it?”

Realizing how far his common sense had flown from him, Tomura yanked his hood closer around his face and plopped back into his seat. He began snagging his thoughts out of the cyclone of emotion that had swept them up. From a purely practical view, Dabi lost in this bargain. Even if everything he said turned out to be a pile of unicorn shit, Tomura could still learn something from the telling itself. There had to be a hidden angle to this farce. A ploy to see his face fully and sell a description to the authorities? Hardly the easiest, most efficient way to go about it. An attempt to get Tomura alone and off guard to exact revenge? Plausible. He’d killed dozens of people, including two mages, in his career. There was no reason one of them couldn’t have been a friend or relative of Dabi’s. Giving the mage what he wanted, keeping him close, was an ironclad way to find out. A bit of pride was a small price to pay to destroy an enemy with their own trap.

And if paranoia had made something out of nothing…he could always kill Dabi anyway rather than live it down.

Tomura sniffed. “Fine. I agree to your insane terms. Now answer my questions.”

A sliver of white, straight teeth glimmered in the mage’s smile. Tomura had to rein in his imagination before it ran away with picturing them leaving bite marks all over his neck. “The reasons this story happened at all are rather prosaic, I’m afraid. My father was a powerful flame mage who wanted to be above all other warriors. Wanted to be the Emperor’s Champion, in fact. He fought in tournaments and dueled noble-funded contenders, beating every opponent, rising quickly through the lists despite being only twenty-five. Then he faced the man who would become his life-long rival. No matter how many times my father challenged him, he could never best him. So, not getting any younger, he changed tactics and decided to have a perfect child capable of beating this better man.”

Turning just enough to peek at Dabi past his hood and messy hair, Tomura snorted. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Told you the motivations were uninspired.”

“Don’t tell me he summoned a demon woman to bear him this perfect child.”

“The circumstances of my birth aren’t half so interesting, sadly.” Lacing his hands behind his head, Dabi leaned back in his chair until it was balancing only on two legs. “No, my father scoured noble families for any daughters with promising magical talent. Eventually, he wound up marrying an unlucky woman from a line of ice mages and she had me not long after. I inherited my father’s power over fire, but apparently not to the god-like levels he’d been hoping for. When ten years of trying to beat greatness into me didn’t produce results, he turned to alternative methods.

“I’ll spare you the gory details, but the old bastard summoned a demon with the authority to make the type of deal he wanted. He offered it my soul in exchange for augmenting my power. And now…”

With a flourish of one hand, flames the same brilliant blue of his eyes rippled up from Dabi’s fingertips. Heat slapped Tomura in the face even from that distance, sucking the breath straight from his lungs. Another flick of the wrist and the mage clenched his hand, snuffing the fiery ribbons.

“My flames burn hot enough to melt steel—hotter than any mortal can cast. Therein laid the problem and the demon’s trick. My new powers were too intense for a fourteen-year-old boy to withstand, let alone control. The attempt broke me, leaving me severely burned over most of my body and on the verge of death. In his infinite wisdom and mercy, my father declared me a failure. He sent me away to a monastery to ‘recover’. Really, he figured my injuries would finish me off and the demon would have its prize early. Fortunately, I’m more resilient than he gave me credit for.”

Despite Dabi’s casual, even flippant tone and posture, something in his eyes told Tomura that maybe this story—the core of it anyway—wasn’t a complete fabrication. Something within the burning-blue irises too cold and hard for even them to melt. “Not only did I pull through, I learned ways to protect myself somewhat from my own magic thanks to the monks and their connections to various rare book sellers and libraries. By the time my father sent someone—perhaps one of yours even—to finish what my injuries hadn’t, I was ready. I spent about another five years after that in hiding, accumulating knowledge and skill. Skills like breaking wards, or getting minor spirits to collect tidbits of information, such as a curse placed on an infamous assassin, say. When I finally had the strength, I summoned the demon who’d traded with my father and renegotiated the terms of the deal.

“See, promising somebody else’s soul, especially a child’s, is tricky when you don’t just outright sacrifice them. Comes with all sorts of cosmic snags. Rather than risk winding up empty-handed, the demon was willing to heal me as much as it was able and accept my father’s soul instead for services rendered. The next week, I delivered.”

Slowly, Dabi let his chair rock forward back onto all four legs. At the same instant, the scales in Tomura’s mind tipped as well.

“Fine. You’re on the job. Ten tablets of gold before, as you already heard. Thirty after. You cooperate with everyone else on the team, no exceptions, no complaints. Agreed?”

Dabi bowed as much as the table would allow. “I’m at your service.”

“Hmph. We’ll see if it’s worth anything soon enough. Are you familiar with the old entertainment district on the west side of the city?”

“I’ve kept an appointment or two over that way.”

“Do you know the fountain?”

The mage tapped his scarred chin. “Dried up, statue of a fox woman, lots of crude writing all over it?”

“That’s the one. Be there at sunset two days from now. Be on time or don’t bother to show up at all. I’ll take you to meet the rest of the rabble helping with this venture.”

“Perfect. And about that remaining payment—”

Tomura stood from his chair abruptly. “You’ll get it when I say so. Don’t push me or you’ll wind up with a blade through your windpipe instead.”

“I look forward to it.” Smiling, Dabi offered his hand across the table. “Working with you, that is. Not the slashed throat so much.”

He didn’t even glance down at the gesture of goodwill. “We’re complete opposites then.”

That parting barb still wasn’t enough to stifle the soft laugh that followed Tomura as he strode away, pretending not to notice the strange fluttering in his middle.

[justacomedy-archived]

♡☆ ✿ ☠ ☾ ■ for ivy and j!

Headcanon Meme

♡ - romantic headcanon

J treats Ivy like an actual queen. Like she does not have to touch a single door handle with him around. He gives her his suit jacket if it's cold or starts to get rainy and he will carry her heels or purse for her- everything that he does for her was literally learned by J spending hours studying how old fashion gentlemen treat their ladies on a variety of black and white films. Many nights were spent stressing over and mimicking these gestures in the middle of his living room at three in the morning because he wants each motion to be perfect for Ivy.

☆ - happy headcanon

Ivy is one of the very first people that J has actually felt genuinely happy to be around. Every time that he sees her, his heart does back flips and he's absolutely crushed every time she leaves (even if it's just for the night.) The thought of her alone can bring a smile to his face and warmth to his heart and these feelings are almost overwhelming to him. He's never felt this way before about anything or anyone and because of this, he's easily blinded by his love for her- he loves her through her flaws, even when they hurt him because she is the only source of happiness he's ever had and he can die happy as long as he knows that she's happy- with or without him because he was lucky enough to even have her to begin with.

☠ - angry/violent headcanon

J does not manage his anger very well. And even with Ivy, he has his breaking points as they always seem to wind up arguing and bickering over the smallest things. He often times doesn't understand what he's done wrong and this frustrates him more than anything because he feels like no matter who he's around- he does something wrong and for his entire life, no one has ever taken the time to explain what it was that he's done. He just wants answers as to why everyone is so angry at him all the time. He hates himself when he gets angry with her, even if it's her fault. Thoughts of harming her swarm his mind and he doesn't sleep for days after their arguments because he's tormented by his depression, laughter and nightmares of hurting or even killing Ivy despite the love he has for her. These are things that he absolutely does not wish to imagine- but he does. It's out of his hands and he hates himself for it because he loves her. He doesn't want to hurt her.

☾ - sleep headcanon

J rarely sleeps, but when Ivy lays with him, he falls asleep relatively easily at least for a few solid hours. It's the best sleep he will ever get, even if he wakes up at odd hours and can't fall back to sleep- he still wakes up feeling more rested than ever. Though there are still nights where even laying with Ivy doesn't soothe his insomnia when he's overly stressed. When this happens, he simply lays with her where he slowly combs her fingers through her hair or trails them in soft circles along her back until she's in a deep sleep. Sometimes he will lay with here and just admire her as she sleeps for a while, but he always ends up getting up and leaving the room sooner or later so that he doesn't disturb her as he becomes increasingly restless.

■ -  Bedroom/house/living quarters headcanon

Before Ivy moved in: his apartment was somewhat messy. It wasn't anything disgusting- just a few typical things like a couple of dishes half rinsed laying in the sink overnight. A little bit of dirty laundry on the floor. The worst thing is that he had multiple ash trays overfilled with cigarette butts placed around the apartment and everything was heavily tainted with scent of smoke. But upon inviting Ivy and Sage to move in with him, Arthur did a deep clean and went as far as renting a carpet cleaner and wiping down the walls and ceiling to remove the scent of smoke. He spends most of his time at work, so he doesn't do much of the housework, but he always makes sure that his dirty clothes make it into hamper. If he sees dishes in the sink when he gets home, he will wash them without being prompted to and he takes out the trash without Ivy ever having to ask. He's moved his ashtray to outside and never smokes in front of or allows Sage outside with him while he smokes. They keep a clean home together, the biggest mess being the few toys scattered on the floor because of Sage.

[drcrushers]

so this was meant to be the next installment of the ‘wait for me’ series, but i never finished it and it’s honestly still a rough draft. it was a plot point i didn’t end up using but i also might in the future in a different setting. so enjoy this little nugget!

"I don't like it."

Persephone glanced at the reflection of her husband as she looped one of the studded gems into her earlobe. Simple diamonds - well, simple compared to the variety of gemstones and beautiful colors offered by the unlimited stock in the mines. Simple was better for that particular evening - an evening that already had her stomach turning into knots. 

"I know." She said quietly, admiring herself before she twisted in the chair to her vanity so she could see her husband properly. Hades was leaned against one of the bedposts, arms crossed with a darker than normal expression. "I don't like it either, but it's better this way."

"Don't see how." He scowled, brows knitting together in the center of his forehead. Persephone stood and crossed to him, taking his face between her hands. Her mighty man, who’d been doom and gloom all afternoon, didn’t pull away. Just gave a huffy little rumble deep in his chest.

"Because you need to be here." She said slowly. "Because if you go up that mountain you'll cause a war with one wrong expression. You ain't as subtle as you think, husband." She fiddled with his rolled up sleeves, fingers tracing the arm bands woven with the fine silver thread. He gave a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat. 

"And you won't? You got a temper to rival your momma's." Hades replied after a moment. She tugged hard on the armband and let the elastic snap against his bicep in warning. He caught her hand in his, bringing her knuckles to his lips fondly and the expression on his face softened briefly. "I worry."

"I know. Were it for any other reason, I wouldn't go at all. Don't trust 'em. And after this - well, they'll be lucky if we don't turn them away at the gates now." Persephone glanced over to the bedsheets, where she'd tossed the letter sealed with the damn lightning bolt seal and her name and Hades' written in her daddy's own hand. "But I gotta face my music. And you know I ain't goin' unarmed. He wants to play hardball, he'll find out how much better I play. Especially given the circumstances."

"It ain't his business." Hades snarled. And he was right, Persephone knew. The underworld and it's inhabitants were not his realm. Nor any of the others. It wasn't the first time, nor would it be the last that the king of the gods stuck his nose where it didn't belong. To demand their appearance to answer about the songbird and Persephone's choice of temporary successor - well, things were working out just fine. Granted it had only been a few months since, but she hadn't heard bad things (except from her momma, who had already ripped her a new one - but then Persephone had used Melinoe as a bargaining chip and had immediately won that argument). 

"No. Ain't his business. But you know him - can't stand it if somethin' happens under his nose and he didn't condone it."

"He touches you at all and -"

"Hades." She warned gently. "Thanatos is comin' up with me. Momma will be there too, and she'd rip Zeus in half if he even thought of it and send you the remains in a box of ashes. Hera will deal directly to me." She leaned up to kiss the frown from his lips. "Now tell me I'm pretty."

"You're stunning, as always." He murmured, and reached up to brush an errant curl from her face. "Haven't seen you like this in a while."

She'd donned a black dress not unlike her usual underworld wardrobe, but this dress was laced with silver accents that gleamed like the diamonds Hades was so fond of comparing her to. Nothing terribly fancy, but enough to make a statement - which was half the battle up on the mountain. They all lived in damned black tie wardrobes most of the time and while Persephone was not to be outdone, she was sure as hell not gonna follow their rules. 

"I'm queen of the underworld. Gotta look the part." She smiled. "Just need my crown."

With a flick, a wreath of silver and gemstones appeared in Hades' hand. Old as their marriage, that crown. She hadn't worn it since they stopped doing official trials and having audiences and the factories had started rising up. Hades had made it for her within the first week of their marriage, a crown of silver leaves and asphodels immortalized in delicate gemstones. He nestled it atop her head in a soft gesture, sealing it with a kiss to her forehead. 

"You be careful up there." He whispered and she nodded. 

"And you take care of our girl." Persephone smiled softly, which was accompanied by the soft noise of their daughter in her bassinet by the bed - neurotic as they both were, they had yet to move her to her own nursery. Persephone turned to gather Melinoe into her arms, pressing a kiss to her nose. "Was wonderin' if you were gonna wake up to tell momma bye, chickadee." 

Melinoe blinked, and lurched forward to try and grab at the shining gems that decorated her mother. Persephone chuckled and caught a flailing hand in her own, pretending to nibble on it to the delightful squeals of laughter of her little one. Her whole world, her girl and her man. Melinoe wasn't even close to her first birthday and already she had the look of her daddy, those dark eyes all brightened with curious energy. Their winter's child. A miracle, if Persephone believed in such. 

"He'll be expecting you to bring her." Hades crossed the space between them, reaching out instinctively to catch Melinoe's other hand. “He wasn’t subtle in the invitation. As if he had the right."

"Which is why I ain't. He's expectin' you, too. But I'll handle it. One of us needs to stay with our little sprout. I'll see to our girl up top."

With a kiss to her daughter's forehead and a parting kiss from her husband, Persephone headed off for the train. The underworld was quiet and while she smiled at the shades she passed, there was a tension in her expression and her stance building the closer she got to the platform. She hadn't been up top in a while now with the new arrangement; she had imagined this trip would have been introducing Melinoe to real sunlight for the first time. Not going up the damned mountain on her daddy's whim because he was feeling bitter that she'd circumvented his original contract. Not to mention it was the first time spending any length of time away from Melinoe, which didn't sit right in her gut either. But her little girl had Hades, and would be safe in the underworld. Untouchable. One of the good things about the shadowed realm - the other gods couldn't cross the boundaries without permission, not even Zeus himself. If anything happened to her up on Olympus, Hades and Melinoe would be safe.

The train was waiting when she arrived, and so was Thanatos. Persephone was perfectly fine going up the mountain on her own, but Hades had insisted and she wasn’t about to argue. If things went sideways - well, it would be useful to have someone else on her side. Quite frankly Persephone didn’t trust her momma to pick her side over Zeus’. Much as she hated the king of the gods, Demeter could be easily swayed into doing what was best for Persephone - or what she thought was best. Especially since Demeter was unaware of why Persephone had refused for so long to go up the mountain, why Hades had forbade it. That was about to be out in the open, too.

The great machine let out a hissing billow of steam as she hopped up onto the platform. Thanatos tilted his head, eying her sharply with those endless black eyes. Her lips quirked and she gave a mock curtsy. 

“Let’s get this over with.” He murmured in a voice nearly low as Hades’, and offered out a hand to help her onto the train. Persephone snorted, but took his hand and stepped onto the train for the first time in a real long while. 

It felt strange, really. Somewhat empty. Granted she’d done plenty of runs up top without Hades, and plenty back down. The train had just been a mode of transport, nothing more or nothing less, taking her from one prison to another while she wore gilded handcuffs and drank herself half blind. The bar was still there, untouched, and Persephone briefly considered making herself something to get a bit of liquid courage to deal with her relatives. Deciding against it, she flopped unceremoniously into one of the seats and tried to lose herself in the gentle thrumming of the train beneath her feet. It lurched, and began the slow pull away from the station. 

Persephone tried not to consider worst case situations. Quite frankly she hadn’t considered consequences to her and Eurydice’s little switch - not that there was any. Not important ones. The only thing lost seemed to be her daddy’s ego, which was nothing unusual. Only annoying as hell, and the fact that he had put thinly veiled threats to her in the invitation made her all the more angry. She only worried - Eurydice now spent half the year up top, which was very much fair ground for Zeus or any of his demi-god bastards he usually got to do his bidding. Which meant she was vulnerable. She had faith that Eurydice could hold her own with the share of ancient magic Persephone had gifted her, but the idea all the same made her stomach sour more than what it had. She pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to swallow the bile in the back of her throat.

Maybe she should have let Hades come. Or made him go without her. But no - she’d caused the mess. Made her bed. Now she had to lie in it. Hades didn’t need to take the blame; didn’t need to be made out to more of the villain all of Olympus seemed to think he was. 

She knew when they passed from the underworld to the mortal realm, a chill running up her spine and causing the hair on her arms to stand on end. She looked away from the slowly brightening landscape beyond the window to Thanatos, but he had leaned back on another bench and drawn a hat over his face; for all appearances, he seemed asleep. She knew better of course, but didn’t bother in disturbing him. 

The train began to slow as they approached the platform she had gotten on and off at since the beginning of time. She watched it come into view, the train coming to a full stop just a few moments to allow other passengers to board. It felt strange not to be getting off. They'd barely stopped before they were off again, and the door to her private compartment opened. Persephone smiled. 

"Hey there, songbird." Persephone greeted as Eurydice stepped through, wearing her usual garments - except the red bandana at her neck. Eurydice hugged her fiercely and Persephone could smell the sunshine that radiated from her, like an inner light. It suited her; seeing the smile and the color in her face was even more of a delight. Songbirds were far better alive than dead.

"Its good to see you." She murmured. "You holding up alright?"

"Alright as ever." Persephone promised. "Though I should be askin' you."

"More than. Demeter's helped and I think I'm doing okay. I mean - everyone is happy. No one is hungry. The harvests look good - great even." Persephone noted the brightness in her face did not fade. "I'm happy."

"Good. As long as you're happy, I am too. Poet alright?"

"He is. Sends his love. Already writing a new song."

Hopefully Orpheus would still hold up, when Eurydice came back down below for those required six months. But knowing she was coming back - that was the aid. Eurydice would always come home to him. Doubt would and could not cloud Orpheus as it had Hades. Not after everything. 

Bickering tore Persephone's attention from Eurydice to the two others that had boarded and were now coming into the private car with quiet words hissing between them like two angry snakes. 

"What in hell are you two on about now?" Persephone asked. Demeter and Hermes both looked up, Hermes sweeping forward first with a bright grin. 

"Never you mind, sister. A'ight?"

"A'ight." Persephone echoed, and moved to embrace Demeter. "Hello, momma."

"Hey, girl." Demeter smoothed a few flyaways from Persephone's unruly curls, and took her face in both her hands. "Missed you."

"Missed you. Wish we were meetin' under better circumstances."

"Never you mind. Your daddy is a bag of hot gas and nothin' more. I'm on your side, and your girl's here. Much as I hated it - she's good. And you got the little one. She ain't here, is she?"

"No. I figured she's safer back below, with Hades. Just in case." Persephone murmured. "Just in case."

From there, quiet conversation filled the car. Persephone listened as Eurydice and Demeter filled her in in the things up top, and Hermes toured on about the things even further up top. No one made mention of where and why they were going, but she could feel the tension grow thicker than molasses the closer they got to the mountain. Goosebumps pimpled across her arms as they passed another barrier into the true realm of the gods. She swallowed back the bile in her throat and stared out the window.

Worst case, she'd end up dead. Hypothetically. Or stripped of her abilities. Memories erased. There were too many possibilities. Eurydice could be hurt, too. Or Orpheus. Persephone had inadvertently dragged quite a few people into her mess - but they had come willingly. And they were there as a figurative army at her back as the train once more began to slow. 

The platform at Olympus was only a part of a great train station. One gilded in gold and paintings and statues from the classical era, when the mortals had gotten how the gods had looked all wrong. Curiously, she watched Eurydice take it all in with a slightly awed expression as they disembarked. Scenes from long ago eras were portrayed in murals, paintings, and frescoes that hadn't aged a day. 

The marble statues were hidden in little alcoves along the walls between the artwork - beautiful but not at all accurate. Hades had a massive beard in his, her mother was carved far older than she should have been. Persephone had one as well, but they'd given her so much youth. Artemis looked fierce and Athena and Ares both wore matching expressions in theirs. Eurydice paused at some of them as they threaded through the grand hall of the station. Tunnels that were not labeled branched off, leading to what she knew were other platforms that led to either other realms, or other places on the mountain of Olympus. It felt strange to Persephone - there was usually at least a few demigods or muses roaming about the station to head here or there. 

Now it was empty. Nary a soul. 

"I'd give you a grand tour if I could." Hermes was saying to Eurydice, his arm around her shoulders as they walked toward a wall that instead of a tunnel, held a gleaming golden elevator. The doors opened at their approach with no prompting - Eurydice balked. 

"Tacky as hell. Used to be this was just one lush field." Persephone muttered. "Olympus used to be more green than gold. Heph's done nice work on the tile inlays, though."

Demeter snorted as they stepped into the elevator. There was no panel of buttons - the elevator doors closed once they were all piled in. Thanatos looked almost out of place, his dark aura contrasted sharply against the gold interior that reflected everything right back. Persephone studied her tinted reflection, her own dark clothes and gleaming silver crown a direct disobeyment of everything Olympus was. Demeter had not dressed up, and neither had Eurydice - good. The bitter part of her hoped it offended at least some of them. 

The elevator climbed with no noise, rising higher in a way that made Persephone's stomach swoop uncomfortably. No. Melinoe did not belong up there in such a gilded cage. A gilded hell. 

"Should we have a game plan?" Eurydice asked after a moment. Persephone reached out to grasp her hand and squeeze it. 

"Game plan is on me, chickadee." She murmured. "Whatever happens, go along as you can. If things go south, Thanatos is tasked with gettin' you right on outta here."

"And you." Thanatos rumbled lowly, which she ignored. Eurydice frowned. 

"South?"

"Gods have tempers and they get all riled up. If they do, it'd be too dangerous. You got half my magic girl, but it wouldn't be enough to keep you safe against the whole panthenon."

Eurydice opened her mouth to likely protest, but the elevator stopped quite suddenly without even a hint of warning. The doors slid open and cool air swept into the container as they stepped off. A set of double doors greeted them in a grand, gilded lobby with more stupid art - place looked more museum than anything. Displays of wealth and power that Persephone curled her nose at. The great set of wooden doors was ancient as time itself, carved with a tree of a myriad of branches. Beautiful and worn, Persephone recalled the one time she had seen it before it had looked the very same. She'd traced the inches of it with lithe fingers while Hades had held tight to her hand, the pair of them about to face her momma and Zeus in regards to their hasty marriage and Demeter's fit of ire. 

Now, she took hold of Eurydice's hand and squeezed it tightly. If Eurydice was afraid, she certainly didn't show it. With no further hesitation, she shoved open the heavy doors and stepped through.

The room itself had not changed largely since her last visit to Olympus. In mortal terms it was akin to a ballroom, but the ceiling didn’t exist; instead, it was open to the cosmos above in a beautiful array of stars - for now. As she recalled, it had a tendency to change with her daddy’s moods. On a raised half dias around the room there were gilded thrones, identical in color but carved with unique inlays to their owners. For all the modernity that the gods had, Zeus had kept the core foundations of the mountain the same. The room could be anything it wanted - a lounge, an intimate club, whatever they wanted. Clearly it was a power move being pulled; make her feel like an outsider. Nothing new.

Arranged on the thrones were, as expected, the pantheon. Her daddy in the center, perched like the king he thought he was. Hera was to his left, her face an impressive neutral mask - Persephone’s nails dug into her palms at the sight of the so called queen of the gods, and didn’t relax even as Demeter took hold of her free hand. Poseidon, Artemis, Apollo, Ares, and Athena fanned out on either side of Zeus and Hera, with Aphrodite and Hephesatus rounding things out. Three of the tacky chairs were empty - Demeter and Hermes both moved from her side then to take up two of the empty chairs. The remaining one belonged to Hades - and thus, as his wife, it also belonged to her. 

But Persephone did not sit. She stood with Eurydice, the pair of them alone in the center of the room. 

“Full regalia for this really necessary?” Persephone remarked to the otherwise silent room. “Figured we’d settle this in your back office and be done with it.”

“Your actions deserve full council.” Hera drawled, painted lips drawing into a sharp, deadly smile. “I should think you’d be happy to have a fair trial.”

“Trial?” Persephone arched a brow. “Nothin’ in that damn note of yours said trial. I’m here to say my piece, that’s all. Ain’t a reason for a trial. I’ve done nothin’ wrong. And before you open your mouth again will some utter bullshit, point me to whatever trumped up rule book you’ve invented tellin’ me I’ve done wrong by the universe.”

“Persephone.” Zeus’ voice rumbled in a way not unlike Hades’. He was older than she remembered, grayer at the temples. Nearly fully white as Hades, but not quite. Whereas her husband took after his mother, Zeus and Poseidon took after their daddy in a way that made her stomach twist itself back into knots. “You’re here as a guest. Not on trial. But you understand we naturally have . . . questions about your decision to give this human -”

“I have a name.”

Zeus’ gaze slid cooly over to Eurydice, who had spoken quite sharply. 

“A name. My name is Eurydice. And Lady Persephone saved my life.”

“No, she didn’t.” It was Hera who spoke again. Gods, Persephone wanted to rip her perfect fucking face off. “She broke the law of the underworld and returned a soul to the living without permission. Souls are not permitted to return to the aboveground in the way you have, mortal.”

“Last I checked my husband was in charge of the law of the underworld, not you.” Persephone remarked. “And he ain’t got a problem with it.”

“I can’t help but notice Hades isn’t here.” Poseidon added. “Will he be joining us at all?”

“No. He willingly remained behind to see to the realm. That a problem?”

“You mean to babysit?” Hera mused. Persephone’s vision went vaguely red.

“Forgive me, I didn’t want to expose our daughter to the bullshit on this mountain at such an early age. She’s fine, by the way. Thanks for askin’.”

Hera’s eyes narrowed.

“It’s not like I asked for this!” Eurydice added. “I want it, more than anything. I love what Lady Persephone has given me. And - the promise of the contract is still there. I only bring the spring for six months. Then I spend winters down below. It’s the same thing as her, isn’t it? I just . . . took over her contract.”

Bold, Persephone thought. She’d expect nothing less from Eurydice and that fire burning in her. Hera looked positively livid that Eurydice had spoken without being spoken to - again - but to Persephone’s relief, Zeus looked at least amused. A decent sign. 

“Hades has given his permission.” Persephone repeated, then glanced to her momma. “And so has Demeter.”

“I have.” Demeter added. “As a firm believer in a child havin’ both her parents, I granted the contract amendment.” She gave a long side-eye to Zeus, who pretended clearly not to notice. 

“If both parties agreed, I see no true issue.” Athena’s voice was clearly flat; one of the many who seemed bored by the whole ordeal. Who thought it was a waste of time. 

“I did not give my permission.” Zeus said evenly. 

“Hades was the holder of the contract, with respect.” Hermes drawled. 

“And if you look at that contract close enough, it never mentions me by name.” Persephone pointed out. 

“It says Kore - “

“Which ain’t my name.” She cut across her father. Her hair was standing on end again - like the way it did just before a real bad thunderstorm. When lightning was in the air. Shit. “My name, as granted and given by you, is Persephone. Other than that, the contract states the seasons gotta be brought. And far as I can tell, Eurydice’s doin’ a damn fine job of it. Haven’t heard a single complaint.”

“She’s right. I looked over it myself.” Hermes spoke again. “She technically ain’t broke a single thing in that contract. And Eurydice’s doin’ a fine job as it is.”

“I did what I did for the sake of my marriage, and my daughter. I ain’t gonna abandon my girl. Eurydice and Orpheus helped repair damage done. If it weren’t for them, pretty sure you wouldn’t be havin’ this conversation. Instead you’d have mortal riots on your hands cause they’re all starvin’.” Persephone flexed her fingers, but they returned to the balled up fists at her side. It was difficult, trying to keep her temper under some normal range. The entire situation was foolish, the council a joke. Just because everyone else in the room seemed to be a shit parent, didn’t mean Persephone would ever be. 

“Are we going to really discuss the logistics of this?” Hera snapped. “She broke the laws. You cannot just decide to name someone a god because you felt sorry for them. Otherwise half the mortal realm would be gods by now!”

“As opposed to the bastard demi-gods runnin’ about?” Persephone snarled. “Not much difference. I had every right. It’s my power, and mine to do with what I damned well please.”

“Then clearly you need stripped of them because you don’t know how to handle them.”

“Like you stripped me of my children?” 

There was a quiet, tense silence that settled. Persephone was staring at Hera with every ounce of fury in her, watching as the queen of the gods seemed to internally debate how best to handle the situation presented. Perfect.

“You’ve gone delusional as well. I’ve done nothing to your child.”

“Ain’t for lack of tryin’.” Persephone continued. Without breaking her glare to Hera she fished in the front of her dress and pulled out a small, folded few notes that had certainly yellowed with age. She brandished them with a flourish. “And you did. Try. Succeeded before, too. I always thought it funny why my babies never survived in my womb. I’m the goddess of fucking life. Except where it mattered - or so I thought.” She stepped forward toward Hera’s throne, and no one made an immediate move to stop her. 

“And then I found the letters. Half a dozen. Written to lackeys in your hand. Dates line up real nice and neat. Every little life crushed before it could even thrive because the goddess of childbirth and fertility deemed it so.”

She had grown closer to Hera, enough to throw the letters at her feet. Hera had the decency to look slightly appalled. 

“You murdered my children. I ain’t got proof of it yet, but I’m pretty sure you nearly cost me my marriage, too. And for what?” Persephone could feel the anger radiating from her in waves; if anything remotely green and living within her vicinity had existed, it would surely be brown and ashen by now. Dead. “You’re a monster. And you’re lucky I don’t make you eat the ground beneath me and grind your face into the mountain from here to the bottom.”

Her gaze went sharply to Zeus, who was watching with a mixed expression. 

“Deny Eurydice, reverse my choice. Strip me of my powers. And I’ll consider these letters as a threat of war. Hades agrees. You came for us, our family, our realm. Whether you were in on it or not.” Persephone’s teeth grit together as she glared at her father. “Go against this - or even think of laying harm to her or Orpheus or anyone else I love, and consider the underworld borders closed. No one in or out. Mortals will riot as their loved ones rot and their souls wander your realm. And they’ll go from worshipping you to cursing your temples near and far.” 

Her smile was dark, wicked, an expression learned from her husband. 

“And in case you decide it’s worth the cost - just remember. Hades and I are the only protection you have from the monsters in Tartarus. I can’t promise one or two might not somehow get out should there be any sort of war. So by all means. Try. Us.”