#they think letting have some space is the best since he seems so keen on staying in his room

[delusionalbitchinthehouse]

Special angst. Featuring touch-starved Special, homemade quintessence fuckery and lore, basically Special can't touch anyone or they die, Omega and Delta try to help.

CW : Angst, like pretty heavy angst I think, Hurt/comfort, talk of death

Ghouls are social creatures. Not all to the same extend, not all in the same way, but the fact remains : ghouls thrive in eachother's company, in the knowledge that someone, somewhere, is waiting for them, ready to welcome them.

And, ghouls are physically affectionate, as a result of this need to be close and feel surrounded by loved ones. Of course, it's a generic rule, and it doesn't applie the same way to each individuals, but, most of the time, ghouls live off of casual touch, hand holding, hugs, cuddles, clasps on the shoulders, arms slung around waists, tails intertwining.

It's Satan's best joke, really, that Special can't even have that.

That he's so fucked up that not only no one bears to be in his presence, but he could also kill the poor ghoul who'd pity him enough to try and give him a hug.

Because Special's elements are all pulling him in different direction, trying to evade the too tight confine of his body, weak fire sorrowfuly begging to be smothered out, destructive quintessence furiously grasping at every bits of vital energy it can find, literaly sucking the life out of anyone stupid enough to have any kind of skin-to-skin contact with Special.

At least it's vaguely less awfull now that he managed to contain the devastating effect of his quintessence to his body - the screams of agony of the people who tried to approach him after his summoning, Omega's pained grunts as he backed away, the soft blanket he had held out for Special falling at his feet, the sheer terror on the ancient ghoul's face as he watched the humans unfortunate enough to be in Special's quintessence's range dropping like fly, oh, Special remembers it all so well.

Six Siblings died that way, simply because they were standing too close to him. Omega was, too, and is only alive because of his highly resistant nature, allowing him to stumble back in time.

It took weeks of sitting across from Omega, safe distance between them, training relentlessly to try and tame his quintessence, before Special could evolve around people without draining them. But it worked.

Provided he stays dressed head to toe, not a silver of skin showing, of course.

Special could, theoretically, be on the recieving end of ghoul's typical affection, the soft nudges, pats and caresses rythming their lives, long as no one makes contact with his skin, long as all those displays take place through a layer of clothing.

But then again, Special can't blame them for being wary, and prefering to stay away altogether. They're right, after all. You never know what might happen, if Special won't suddenly lose control and kill everyone in a three meters radius just by existing.

Special hasn't see anyone in days. Omega said he'd come by, but he hasn't yet. Special vaguely remembers something about Delta the...water ghoul, right ? Well, one of them anyway. There's a lot of those around, Special keeps forgetting who's who, doesn't see them enough to properly remember. He sticks to the dark corners, only goes out in the dead of the night, only watches the other ghouls from afar, except maybe for Omega.

But Omega's not here, hasn't been here for too long, busy taking care of Delta, whatever that means. Special wonders if he'll come back. Special wonders why he needs Omega to come to his room, why he can't bring himself to get up and go find the quint by himself. It's not like it's forbidden or anything. He just can't do it, the thought of opening his bedroom door in the middle of the day strictly unfathomable.

No, Special, at least during the day, needs someone to open it, someone to drag him outside if he really is needed, like for interviews, because apparently he's the only fucker who agreed to do them when neither Papa nor Omega are free.

A third choice, that would probably be even further down the list of candidates if it wasn't for his uncanny ability to entertain humans, with jokes and crudes, snarky remarks masking the cracks of his shattered soul.

So Special waits, sitting motionless in the middle of his bed. He hasn't seen anyone in days. He hasn't been touched since forever. No, that's not true. Omega cupped the back of his head the last time he was here, protected by the mask and balaclava Special always has to wears, and pressed a kiss to the metal covering his forehead.

It had nearly unraveld him.

Special doesn't know why Omega still bothers with him, what sick sense of responsability pushes the quint to visit Special as often as he can bear, why he insist on being so patient, so gentle, smiling with sadness in his eyes.

Special doesn't want pity. But he could never tell Omega not to come back.

His hair is getting too long. It's itchy in the back of his neck, keeps getting stuck in folds of fabric. Special shifts uncomfortably, thinking about stealing a pair of scissors and chopping it off himself. It's always a delicate task, cutting his hair : he's not good at it himself, but whenever Omega's doing it, he has to be extra cautious, avoiding any contact with Special's scalp, not even able to properly run his fingers through it. Special's hair is never perfect, always a bit messy, as a result, but now it's even worse.

He really needs Omega to come back.

It hits Special like a freight train.

He needs Omega to come back. He needs to hear his voice, to see the lines and creases on his face, the tired slope of his broad shoulders, the softness of his eyes. Special needs his tentative, fleeting touches, needs to talk to him, needs to be carefully held, even if it's all tainted with Omega's guilt, obligation and pity.

He needs to know Omega hasn't moved on, hasn't chalked him up as a lost cause, that Special hasn't lost the only comfort life ever granted him.

A knock startles him out of his thoughts, his whole being shaking with relief at the familiar pattern.

"Spesh ? Can I come in ?"

Special nearly sobs. His voice scratches in his throat.

"Yes."

Omega slips in the room. He's maskless, and Special drinks him in like a ghoul starved. He looks tired, like he hasn't slept in days, but. He's smiling. Omega is smiling, wide an bright, eyes gleaming. It makes Special's own lips pull in an unfamiliar direction, up up up, until concealed under the mask, his mouth weakly mimics Omega's.

"I have good news for you, Spesh. Really good news. Would you let me bring someone else in here ?"

Special visibly flinches, though still half frozen, cossed-legged on the bed. Omega's face softens in that way Special yearns for.

"It's okay, it'll be fine. I promise. Do you trust me ?"

Special doesn't need to think about the answer, nodding with more conviction than he ever displayed before. It gets a soft chuff out of Omega.

"Attaboy."

The quint moves with a grace Special envies, reaching for the door and opening it like it's the easiest thing in the world. Maybe, to him, it is.

The ghoul that steps in looks just as tired as Omega, if not more, but is also sporting a smile, hair an absolute mess, looking like it got chopped with absolutely no regard for the aesthetical result, as uneven as it is unruly.

"Spesh, this is Delta, remember ? Delta, this is Special."

Special blinks, unmoving as a statue, as he often is. Sometimes, he thinks that if he keeps perfectly still, the universe will forget that he is supposed to be, and simply let him stop existing.

Delta. Yes Special remembers. He doesn't smell like most water ghouls, though, it's quite disarming.

"Hello, Special," Delta breathes, barely above a whisper, "it's nice to officially meet you."

Unsure of what to do with that soft tone, with how genuine Delta apparently is, Special looks toward Omega, silently begging for guidance. The quint goes to sit next to him, one hand brushing his back ever so slightly. Special has to bite his tongue to contain a relieved whimper.

"He's here because we discovered something, and I have a theory," Omega explains.

Delta is standing straight, hands folded behind his back, withstanding Special's wary scrunity with an easy smile. Something about him is...off, Special notes. It's not necessarily bad, but it intrigues him.

Delta looks like a water ghoul. Blueish tint to his grey skin, gills, needle sharp fangs, webbed fingers, a few fish-like scales visible on his forearms. And yet...

Special doesn't realize he's leaning forward until Delta tilts his head in amusement. He leans back immediately, clasping his gloved hands tighter on his lap.

"I think," Omega goes on, "that he might be able to touch you without consequences."

It's instinctive, the way Special stiffens, shaking his head desperately at Omega, clearing his throat to find his voice again.

"No, no, no, Megs, it'll end up badly-"

"Listen- listen to me, Spesh, listen," Omega interrupts his panicked babbling, craddling his masked face between two big hands, "i'm not pulling this out of my ass, okay ? Delta here, well, we needed a new quintessence ghoul, at least for a little while, until we could summon a new one, and...Delta volunteer for an...elemental transition of some kind."

Special blinks, shaking in Omega's grip. Well, that explains the funny feeling, the strange scent.

"But...Delta's still water," Special rasps. Omega hums, nodding.

"Yes, but not exclusively. He's not...quintessence either. It's more like...he became a vessel quintessence can pass through. He can channel it from the outside, dig it from the source rather than something within him like us quintessence ghoul do, quite literaly pull it from thin air, let it flow through him, and release it."

Special frowns, trying to wrap his mind around all this.

"But...raw quintessence, the one that is everywhere, is impossible to access to unless you are a quint, because your quintessence connects you to it, opens you a door. Right ?"

It's more words than he's spoken in weeks outside of interviews, but excitement suddenly buzzes in his body, brain finally feeded something to think about, to analyse, to study. Special is a cerebral creature, no matter what people might thing, and such an incredible discovery makes him feel almost alive.

Omega laughs, a breathless, amazed little thing.

"I know. But, apparently, we managed to crack that door open for Delta. He doesn't have much control over the quintessence he releases, but it's enough for the Clergy, for now."

Special glances toward Delta from the corner of his eyes.

"That's...you wrote it down, right ? Records of this could be incredibly useful-"

The smile he gets makes Special's heart miss a beat. Omega looks so fond, so full of love, it's almost painful.

"I did. I'll hand you my notes. But, back to you. What your quintessence does, is devouring energy out of living things-"

Special hangs his head down, shame creeping up his spine, wrapping around his throat.

"Hey, none of that, Spesh," Omega soothes, pulling his head up by the metal point of the mask's chin, "let me finish. What if someone was full of an energy they can fully dispose of ? If someone could let your quintessence take without it harming them, that means they could touch you. Delta could touch you."

Special blinks.

"But...you can't touch me."

"Because your quintessence takes the one at my core - drains me dry of a source of power so entangled in my being that losing it would mean losing me. But Delta's quintessence doesn't come from him."

Slowly, Delta comes closer, kneeling by the bed, offering his bare hand to Special, smiling, and Special- can't understand why. Why anyone would willingly take such risks - first the attempted elemental transition, now this.

Omega brushes Special's shoulder.

"Please, try it. I know...how hard isolation is for you. Please, sparkle, try. If anything goes wrong i'll pull Delta away before any real damages can be done, I promise."

The coppery taste of blood hits Special's tongue, and it's the only reason he's aware he's biting his lip. Then Delta talks.

"I volunteered, Special. I know this is going to work. I trust Omega's theory, and. I think I can trust you, too."

This time Special does sob.

"If I hurt you..."

"You won't. Give me your hand, Special, it'll be okay."

And Special is terrified. Terrified that it won't work, that he'll hurt Delta, who seems the nicest ghoul you could ever wish for. Terrified that it'll work, that the one time he manages to touch someone without killing them will kill him, that all it would take would be a brush of skin against his own to destroy him.

Despite all that, Special slowly, oh so slowly takes one glove off, revealing too-pale skin and twitchy fingers. Delta' smile widens, then the air shifts a bit, starts blurring around him. One of his eyes turns purple, his skin shimering slightly.

"It's a bit like holding my breath," the water (?) ghoul explains, "i can't keep it for too long, maybe a couple of minutes, after, i have to release it. Open the valves, kind of. But, if I just keep them open, just let quintessence flow in and out freely, like this-"

Another shift in the air. The shimer on Delta's skin dims, his features relaxing.

"Then I can keep it that way as long as i like, effortlessly for the most part. That's how we can touch. I'm ready when you are."

He's going to do this. Special is going to do this. His hand is shaky when he wraps it loosely around Delta's - ready to pull away at any moment - but the second their skin makes contact, he gasps and can't help tightening it.

Delta doesn't flinch. His skin glints a bit more, but that's it. Special's quintessence is hungrily drinking in the one flowing though Delta, but he doesn't need it. He can let Special take it.

Salt. Salt on his tongue, now. Special is crying. Holding onto Delta's hand for dear life, shoulders shaking, Special is crying, the water ghoul shushing him softly, thumb drawing circles on the back of his hand.

Omega helps unclasping the mask, watching with tears of his own as Special takes it off, throws it somewhere, who cares, where the balaclava and second glove quickly follow.

Delta opens his arm, still not letting go. Special sobs so hard he's sure it's going to turn him inside out, slidding off the bed and into Delta's firm, tender embrace, burrying his face in the water ghoul's neck, finally able to touch, to feel, truly feel.

He can't see it, but Omega's crying in earnest now, Delta fighting tears as well.

Special isn't okay. Special might never be okay, Delta might be the only person he'll ever get to touch, it might stop working at some point, there might be a catch, but oh, Special doesn't care.

He'd trade his infernal eterinity for this moment in time, folded in arms that hold him like something precious.

[dashofmonsters]

Dreamers & Delusions- Pt. 8

merman x female reader

After you finally agreed to live with Tao he told you to take a few days to heal up. You were worried that you'd get fired from your job being out so long but apparently on his little jog out to get you clothes he also stopped by the diner.

He informed Mikey that you won't be back in for a few days due to your injuries. He also mentioned that he may or may not have threatened him after he said some horrible things about you under breath. Apparently Jes was there to stop him from beating Mikey black and blue.

You spent the first day just lounging about in the nest room, reading your romance novels you've stashed away at Tao's. He had to go back to the beach to asses the damage and help with clean up. When he came home he looked drained but quickly perked up when he saw that you made dinner

The second day Jes came to visit and the two of you talked up a storm.

"Girl you are so lucky to be alive right now! You could have fucking died!" She shakes you before giving you a rib crushing hug.

"I know, I know. I just couldn't be there anymore, I needed to get away," You cry against her shoulder and sigh.

You give Jes the run down of that fateful night and leave nothing out. She listens, shaking her head here and there and holding back tears when you talk about how terrified you were.

"And I've been here since. I don't know if he's told you, but I'm moving in with him," you tell her as you wipe your eyes with your sleeve.

"I think that's for the best, but what about... well, you haven't been to keen on getting any closer to him because of the... you know, mates subject," She sighs and scrubs her face.

"I'm trying not to think about it. I'll still keep him at a healthy distance, even though he seems to want the opposite. Not sure if he's taking this fake dating seriously or if he's just being over protective of me because he sees me as his shoal mate," you shrug.

Jes' brows hike up her forehead and she grins, "Shoal mate?"

"Like werewolves have pack members Jes, nothing special," you glare.

"Sure sure, and I'm guessing all those clothes and lacy things aren't special either?" Her grin widens.

"Jes, no. He's just being nice, he even said it was because I didn't have anything to wear and all," you roll your eyes and groan. "Besides he would probably buy even more expensive clothes for his mate, treat her even better and all. I'm just practice, that's all I'm ever good for."

Without warning a hand clamps down on your face and shakes you, "You listen and you listen good, I am sick and tired of hearing your woe was me bullshit! You are kind, smart, dependable, funny as fuck, and loving as hell and if no one can see that in you, they don't fucking deserve you. Tao included ok?"

You nod your head and whimper, "But when he finds her won't h-"

"And what if you are her? What then?" She asks you.

"How can it be me though? There's been no sign, no marks, no moment where we look deep into each others eyes and just 'know'. There's nothing Jes, just two friends who are fake dating," you start blubbering, tears rolling down your cheeks again.

You've bottled up these emotions for days now, unable to vent them since you're in the same living space with the merman who's causing them. You needed this, needed to talk to Jes and just let it all out.

"A part of me wishes he wasn't so goddamn nice to me ya know. Like it'd be so much easier to fall out of love with him. And now look at me, I'm about to move in with him because it's safer here than with my own fucking family. I can't win Jes, I can't," you sob into your hands and she pulls you in for a hug.

"You'll be alright sugar, maybe not now but eventually. I'm not going to sugar coat shit and say things will be fine because I'm no fortune teller girly. This is going to be a fucking journey, but it's all about how you navigate until you reach the end. Nobody needs to get hurt ok?" Jes pulls back and wipes a tear from your cheek. "But if he does hurt you, I will be more than happy to put my foot up where the sun don't shine."

You manage a teary chuckle and nod, "Thanks for being real Jes. I guess I needed to hear that and not some fake positivity bull shit."

"I don't do that wishy washy fake support girly, I tell it like it is," she grins and winks.

After you calm down Jes segues the conversation from you and Tao to her and her wild fae fiancé. You start cackling when she tells you about the gifts they've already received from friends and family. Apparently it's common practice to gift some fun things for the bedroom before the wedding so they can enjoy them afterward. Jes admits that she's lost count of how many of these gifts she has received.

"But here's the real kicker, because he's a wild fae our wedding has to be officiated by a wild fae who has worked law between both worlds for it to be legal in both," Jes sneers and tosses her hand back and forth.

"Won't that kind of be near impossible? Aren't wild fae against going into law? I thought they'd be more free spirited?" You try to imagine someone with wild hair and wild magic working in a court of law and quickly shake your head.

"That's what I thought, but there's one. Just one, fresh out of college too. He has a degree in law in both worlds. His name is Varen, very straight laced and way too normal for anyone to look at him and think wild fae. But Artek told me that this kid's one hundred percent a wild fae, could tell by the ebb and flow of his magic," She explains and goes into greater detail about this weird wild fae.

That conversation lead to another and another, talking and bitching turned to joking over lunch and eventually, like all good things, ended after cake. Jes left and you felt lighter though the dread stayed pooled in the pits of your stomach. It was manageable now, but still there.

You distract yourself by starting on dinner. You take it easy as to not overdo it and reopen any wounds again. You've splashed some healing potion on yourself this morning but should probably cleanse yourself with another dose soon.

Little by little you get everything together and toss it into the oven. Easy, simple bake for a dinner. While it does its own thing you whisk away to the bathroom and quickly strip as you run the bathwater. You've just finished pouring the potion into the bath when the door flies open haphazardly and Tao freezes.

You can't help but to laugh especially when he attempts to close the door that keeps slipping from his grasp.

"Dude you've seen me naked probably a dozen times now, nothing you haven't seen," you plop into the bath, still laughing.

You hear the door shut and Tao sighing and to your surprise you see him sitting right at the closed door. He looks a bit roughed up and tired as hell.

"Tough day at work," you ask as you settle in for a soak.

Tao groans, "Tough would be an understatement. Two vacant houses tumbled and shattered onto the beach during the storm. We started out with plenty of volunteers but once they realized how much work goes into the clean up, well we lost a good sixty percent."

"Sixty percent?!" you turn and nearly slip against the tub.

"And if that wasn't bad enough, a certain someone came to the beach looking for you," he adds with disgust that he doesn't even attempt to hide.

"You've gotta be shitting me... She came to the fucking beach after all that had happened?" you ask.

"She was cordial at first since there was a lot of people but when I wasn't giving her the answers she wanted she started saying horrific things about you in relation to, well, to us," he says.

You know how unhinged your grandmother can be with insults and name calling but to slander you or Tao, especially Tao, in public, that was crossing a whole new fucking line.

"What did she say?" you grit your teeth and exhale, trying to remain calm.

Tao doesn't say anything, but you hear him clear his throat and shift. You turn in the tub, keeping low enough that only your shoulders and up are visible, "Tao, what did she say?"

He looks at you and looks down, "She said a great deal of things that I am very certain would cause you to become quite enraged."

"I need something a little more specific buddy. How bad was it?" you keep pushing, knowing that Tao isn't fully comfortable with this but you need to know.

"I'm not sure if I-"

"If I promise to remain calm will you fucking tell me at least one goddamn thing she said?" you nearly yell, starting to get frustrated.

Tao's eyes widen but he nods his head, "She said...well she compared you to your mother saying that you're some slut for dating me and that I'm some freak with a human woman fetish that's lowering whatever qualities about you that would be desirable to human males."

You promised to remain calm, and you're no liar. Instead you start getting out of the tub. You quickly wrap a towel around yourself before Tao can say anything but to your surprise he seems rather speechless. His eyes are back onto the floor and there's this limpness to him. You squat down next to him and he doesn't flinch.

"There's more to this isn't there?" you ask.

"I couldn't say anything... I couldn't defend you or she'd know where you were. I wanted to tear her apart so bad, not physically of course, but I wanted her to know how wrong she was," Tao admits.

You lean up against him and he stiffens a bit before relaxing. He smells of the beach and whatever trash was on beach and it makes you crinkle your nose.

"I'm going to go get dressed and finish up dinner while you take a much needed shower. Let's try to get me moved in asap. I don't think I can tolerate my grandmother any longer," you shimmy up against the door to stand up as Tao shoves up and wobbles.

He seems a little off but mostly tired.

"Try to get some rest tonight ok? We have plenty of time to talk till we both pass out," you smile at him before leaving to go get dressed.

You throw on some comfy pajama bottoms that Jes bought for you and a large shirt that Tao had got you with all the other clothes. You slip into some comfy slides and head to the kitchen to check on dinner. It's a simple chicken bake that your older brother used to make and it made you feel like a normal kid when you ate it.

You wanted to share with Tao a taste of your world since the both of you always cooked his style. It's not that he can't eat or doesn't like to eat normal human food, it's just that you've been busy practicing his style for a while now.

It's just chicken breasts baked over carrots and potatoes that you've oiled and seasoned properly, but this was the one thing that kept you going on the hard days. You made it for your younger siblings when your brother got older and left, but it was never quite as good as his.

You start prepping some broccoli to go with it, something you added so everyone could get their vegies. You can't help but to smile when you think of your little sister grimacing when she took her first bite of broccoli. You had to convince her that they were tiny trees and she'd become a giant if she ate them. Before you left home, she admitted that it didn't work but she knew you were trying so she kept eating them even if she still didn't like them. Hearing that almost made you break down in tears.

You oil up the pan and turn to grab the broccoli when you run right into Tao.

"You have got to start warning me when you enter a room dude, this is going to keep happening if you don't," you laugh.

Tao chuckles and holds your arm, "I'll try to remember that for next time. How are your wounds?"

"Itchy," you shrug, "But manageable. How about you? How are you feeling?"

"I'm...," He pauses and sighs. "Tired, tired and drained. All I want to do is bury myself in a pile of blankets and pillows and pretend that the rest of the world doesn't exist for a while."

You want to laugh because you've been there, and you feel like this isn't the first time Tao has felt like this but it's the first time he's expressed it.

"Well how about we do just that after dinner ok? I could do with wrapping myself up in that fluffy green blanket like a lettuce wrap," you giggle.

Tao gives you a soft smile and nods, "Sounds like a plan."

His hand roves up from your forearm and to your shoulder, your heart pounding a mile a minute until his nose crinkles and he nearly shoves you away as he picks up the smoking oiled pan off the stove top.

You try to apologize but Tao stops you saying it's his fault he distracted you. He offers to help with the last bit of dinner but you stubbornly decline and banish him to the barstools.

The chicken bake finishes just as you toss the broccoli into the newly oiled pan and you hush up Tao when he offers to help again.

"Can't make you a thank you dinner if you keep trying to help now can I?" you poke at him.

"Wait, what do you mean?" he asks, almost shocked.

"I thought I'd make you something from my world as a thank you... Like we're always cooking stuff from the little book you made me or stuff based on that so I thought I'd try something different...," you feel your heart sinking a bit at how silly you sound.

You should have asked instead of jumping into this, should have double checked and now you're probably just cooking for yourself because he probably won't want t-

"I can't wait to try it then," he says.

You look up, realizing that you had been looking down at the broccoli and were probably about to salt it with your tears.

"It's nothing fancy, just a chicken bake my older brother used to make for me when I was a kid," you smile.

He smiles back and yawns looking more tired than usual, "Like I said, I can't wait to try it."

You feel your cheeks heat and your heart flutter but it doesn't last long as you mentally dunk yourself into cold water.

Just a friend, just a friend...

Shaking yourself out of your girly lovey dove self you focus on finishing dinner. As simple as it is you want to make it especially presentable. You give Tao two chicken breasts and a good helping of carrots, potatoes and broccoli. You wanted to serve dinner rolls with it but you had polished them off a couple nights ago.

Tao is unable to stay seated much longer and takes the plates to the one place you'd thought they'd be forbidden from entering, the nest room. Though not without trays which he asks you to bring. You grab them along with some bottles of water and the dessert Jes had brought earlier from the diner.

Tao has you set the trays and things down at the doorway so you can hold the plates. You watch with bated breath as his claw slowly slices through the air, dragging golden glowing ruins with it. The room shifts and the nest room transforms into something akin to a magical pillow fort. The plates you're holding float out of your hands and the trays fly up to support them.

You look down for the dessert and waters but they had already transported to Tao's hands. He smiles again and gestures for you to follow him into the pillow fort.

He plops down onto a beanbag that you had no idea was even in the room and the tray lands gracefully on his lap. You follow suit and snuggle up into a pile of pillows with your tray landing next to you.

"I gotta say Tao, had I known you as a kid I would have invited you over to build pillow forts and hang out because this is fucking nice," you joke.

Tao doesn't say anything because all of his focus and attention went straight into the dinner you had made. Though he's tired, his eyes turn solid black as he rips into the chicken like a beast. It's no feeding frenzy like he did at your grandmother's house, no he still seems conscience.

You take his silence and focus on the meal as a complement and tuck into your on plate. As you eat you realize that it's still not quite like your brother's.

Guess I'll have to hunt him down and shake that recipe out of him one of these days.

You're halfway down eating when you feel Tao snuggling up to you. You glance over at him, his eyes still all black.

"If you're still fully aware in there let me finish eating dude," you tell him.

Tao grunts which you suppose is a good sign as he slinks down and lays next to you. You stab at your food and eat as slowly as possible hoping that Tao will just pass out while waiting for you.

You're not against platonic cuddling or whatever sharky merfolk due to stay warm, but you need some distance. You need to be a little colder until you've sorted your feelings out.

He's been so good to you, kind and caring that it hurts more and more as the days pass and you haven't even officially moved in yet. You keep things as professional as you can but he keeps doing things like buying you snacks and little gifts like candles and bubble bath stuff.

It drives you absolutely crazy because you know this isn't going to last, that even though you'll still be shoal mates and all, you won't be anything more than just that.

You finish eating and check to see if Tao had passed out. Once you're certain he's asleep you clean up the pillow fort and take everything to the kitchen as quietly as possible. You shake your head and almost cry as you laugh about hanging out with Tao in a pillow fort.

If you weren't in love with him you'd probably have a blast. You'd probably try to wake his ass up and try to teach him some games the both of you could play.

But you're in love with him and he's tired. You're tired too.

You had allowed yourself to laze about while physically healing but mentally and emotionally you still feel like your wounds are wide open and bleeding all over the place.

Tip toeing back to the nest room, you quickly swipe the fluffy green blanket and a couple pillows to take back to the living room. You toss yourself onto the leather loveseat and curl into a ball before passing out.

~~~~~~

Tao:

My eyes feel crusted and practically glued together when I wake up. I'm cold even though I'm wrapped up in a heavy blanket. I reach out to get a feel of my surroundings when my memories of last night start flooding in. I snap up and and furiously wipe my eyes till I can open them.

The nest room is as I remembered, magicked into a cave of pillows and blankets but absent of a certain someone. I quickly untangle myself from the blankets and nearly trip as I make my way out of the room.

I search the nearby rooms to check for her before heading to the kitchen. My heart sinks when I peer into the living room and find her curled up on the couch. I quietly pad my way over to her and I fall to my knees when I see notice the tears stained on her face and the puffiness of her eyes.

Had she spent the entire night out here alone crying her eyes out?

I grab a fistful of my hair as I try to wrack my brain for anything I might have done to upset her. I start to worry if I offended her with the way that I ate last night, I did try my best to suppress my instincts. I know that going into a feeding frenzy can disgust humans but she's been fine with it before.

My heart starts racing and I can hardly breathe as I continue to spiral into a state of panic. I'm obviously not quiet about it because she stirs then shoots straight up. I hear her worrying over me, her warm hands cupping my cheek so gently. Without think I hold her hand in place as if I'm afraid this will be the last time she touches me.

Her thumb soothes short lines near my eye and I feel myself slowly calming down to the point that I almost doze off again. She keeps talking but it's muffled. She tries to pull her hand away then and I snap out of whatever trance I was in.

"Tao, you need to go in the tank dammit! You're dry as a bone!" she yells at me.

It takes a moment for my mind and body to sync up and that's when I realize the severe discomfort my skin is in. Not just my skin but my mouth feels sticky and my gills are on fire. I stumble as I stand, no longer operating on anxious energy. It's so difficult to move, to breathe in this state.

I haven't neglected myself like this in ages and now I'm doing it in front of her. For a moment I think she might scold me, rage at how stupid I was for not taking better care of myself until I feel her small hand at the mid of my back.

Slowly she helps me to the hatch, my breathing becoming more and more labored with each step. My gills feel stuck and itchy to the point of sheer madness. I try my best not to scratch at them in fear of them becoming raw.

She sits me down on one of the benches and helps me out of my shirt. For a moment I think that it's kind of her to help me out like this until I remember that I'm wearing pants too.

In a sudden bout of panic I shoot up and kick the hatch open. I hear her talking but not a single word is registering. I quickly start stripping my pants off and before she can see anything I try to dive into my tank but trip over my own feet. I nearly miss the edge when I hit the water and thank the goddesses I made it before I feel unconscious.

There's a weight on my shoulder, a stinging pain too. I suppose I did hit myself but not as bad. I peel open my eyes in horror when I see my shoal mate's limp body slowly floating away from me with blood trailing from her head.

~~~~~~

You could see Tao struggling and you tried to stop him before he hurt himself, instead you ended up bonking your fucking head on the edge of the hatch. It stings like a bitch from the saltwater so you must have sliced it on impact.

But you quickly shove that though from your mind because you're underwater and you're breathing somehow. Memories flood back and you recall holding onto to his shoulder for dear life and Tao pulling you in and how his mouth opened yours up so he could breathe for you. He said something and you nodded before passing out again. He most likely cast a spell to allow you to breathe under water then.

You slowly open your eyes but there's not much to behold. The tank is dark save for the light near the surface. You feel around yourself and notice something smooth nearby. You give it a good poke a guess by the texture and smooshiness of it that it's Tao's tail. Suddenly you're being pulled against him, his nose nuzzling against your ear and his claws rest gently against your bare skin.

"You scared me half to death," he groans, his voice hoarse.

"Ditto dude, you were having a full blown panic attack. What happened?" you ask as bubbles exit your mouth. You have a good idea based on how he's responded to anything you do in the past but it doesn't hurt to check.

Tao's claws twitch and he hums, "I was worried that I had offended you somehow. When I awoke, you were not in the nest."

"You didn't do anything wrong Tao, I just... I needed some space. That and uhh...," You pause, knowing it's now or never and decide to rip it off like a band aid. "You don't have to keep up the fake dating act when we're alone. I mean whenever you find your mate or something I think you'll do good."

You continue to praise him and how he'll make someone super happy one of these days while doing your damndest to mask the ache in your heart. You slip up though and your voice cracks but you laugh it off or at least try to.

The slip doesn't go unnoticed and Tao pulls you into his arms again, crushing you against his body. You're stiff yet somehow you're trembling as he cradles your head and gently kisses your cheek. He doesn't say anything really but you do hear him purr. It's a low thrumming sound and it's oddly soothing.

"We were supposed to relax and pretend as if the world did not exist in the nest room. I ruined that by allowing my instincts to take over again," He says remorsefully.

"No you didn't Tao, I just... I needed space and... you've been great, maybe too great. It just feels wrong somehow to keep up the fake dating act twenty four seven. It's been messing with my head so much so that, I don't know... I just think we should tone it down and just be friends when no one is looking," you bury your face against his chest and sigh.

Tao taps his claws against the back of your head as his purring somehow intensifies, "Then how has it been messing with your head? Did I do something to overstep any boundaries?"

It's a genuine question, you know it is but it irritates you because it's digging so close to the truth, "You haven't overstepped anything, if anyone did that would be me. You've been nothing but kind and respectful and all that and it's been making me think how great it would be if there was someone who could treat me like you do but they actually loved me."

That last part stings your soul because you don't want just anybody, you want Tao.

Without thinking you keep blubbering on, your emotions taking charge now, "And then I started thinking how nice it would be if I was your mate, not just shoal mate, but that'd never happen. So I just kept telling myself we're friends and that you'll eventually find your fated mate and I'll be tossed aside. So I've been trying my best to shut those feelings off, to put some distance between us but somehow someway we keep coming into contact with each other."

At this point your laughing, possibly crying but it's too hard to tell since you're still underwater. Tao holds you even tighter, pulling you up until your chin rests on his shoulder.

"I pray to the goddesses every night that I never meet my fated mate or that I will have the strength to reject her if we do meet," he admits.

"Why would you do that?" you ask with a broken voice.

"Because I want to choose my mate and fated mates among merfolk are rare anyways. I came to this world for a new life, I can't hold onto old traditions and wishful thinking," he answers, his claws once again tapping the back of your head.

"Did you decide this because you've already chose someone?" The question slips and Tao's fingers still against you.

His purring is so loud now and his heartbeat is thrumming against it. He doesn't say anything for a minute but then nods, "Yes, I suppose I have."

You go limp in his hold for a second before looking up at him. His golden eyes glow in the darkness and his hair moves in waves around his head like an inky crown. He looks more feral at this moment than he does when his instincts kick in. For a moment you're terrified of the question fighting its way out but when he touches your arm oh so gently is just flies out.

"Who is it? Who did you chose?"

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Silent Love Story | Yandere Thor

Yandere Pantheon College AU (7/7) | Master List

The star elite student that always won many different sports

Excelling with a bored expression on his face

Thor is the poster child of athleticism in the Pantheon

Always overtaking the average teams with his sheer strength

It was no wonder he was so highly praised

“Awesome work Thor you rubbed those rats in the dirt where they belong!”

“Kya Master Thor you’re just so talented!”

“Nothing can get past you, Thor! You’re the best!”

Adored by so many it’s a wonder no one has caught on yet

Thor is enamored with the average turned-elite professor–you

Acknowledged long ago for your teaching and endurance

The principal made sure you were among the elite ranks 

On paper though

The elite staff weren’t stupid 

When you suddenly start appearing in their lounges

You’re outfits becoming of higher quality

They didn’t bother sparing you from their discrimination

“Do they think we wouldn’t notice the stench?”

“Ew, I can’t believe they let that in!”

“For all we know the little snitch is playing both sides.”

The same could be said for the average side 

“Guess you can’t trust your own, huh?”

“Seems like the money got in their head, diseased I tell you !”

“Don’t expect us to think you’ve taken some high ground, you’re still just like us.”

Because of the animosity on both sides, you settled for staying in your lecture hall

Having your lunches, your rice cooker, and a cooler for water you don’t often leave your little work space

Which is perfect for the student who just loves hanging around

“Oh Thor? I’m surprised you’re with me today! Isn’t there a practice going on today?”

“Where did you hear that?”

“Oh, a couple of my other students left early to head over to the field!”

“...They’re liars you should probably fail them now.”

“That’s a bummer but I don’t think I’m in a place to be cracking down on that sort of thing.”

“Then I will.”

“I appreciate it Thor but you need all your team members for the league right? You shouldn’t bump off people for doing normal college things. Now if they’re just outright skipping class that’s another situation entirely.”

“I see. I won’t be too hard on them.”

“Good boy for you!”

He loves the attention

Thor’s an oddly quiet student in class 

Usually letting his admirers talk at him and chatter about whatever

But his eyes are always on you 

He notices you’re kind of scatterbrained that you’re nervously flipping through your files for your lesson plans ten minutes into class

Or how you don’t mind still greeting the teachers who want to speak with you, even when it’s considered stirring the pot

He figures that’s how you’re doing what you do now

He notices that when you walk, it’s so peacefully slow when he’s following you he doesn’t need to take full strides

It's wonderful that no one even thinks he’s stalking because he’s just so mighty it looks like he’s got somewhere to be 

He loves how quickly it is to distract you 

One minute you can be looking suspiciously at his teammate’s latest wound but forget about it the second he raises his hand

Or how you’ll be talking enthusiastically to one student but if he pretends like he has a question your attention shifts to him

It makes it easier to protect you 

Too many times can he simply stare down elite students  who are awfully keen on crippling weaker average teachers

“Thanks for coming with me to print these out! I appreciate the company!”

“Anytime. I don’t mind if it’s helping you out.”

“Daww you’re so sweet! I think I have a lollipop back at my desk I can give you.”

He already knows it’s there, he’s been eying it since the beginning of your lecture

He’s decided he won’t make any moves now if only to focus on his championships

He knows if he doesn’t score well they’re all going to bother him 

And he just can’t have that 

Getting in the way of his special time with his favorite teacher is an absolute no

He wonders just how many bodies his father could help him cover-up 

If it is for you, he’s more than willing to exceed it

[ragnarokhound]

Hi bb 🐺 can you choose a 500 word snippet from one of your published fics or wips and give us some director's commentary / insight into what you were thinking when you wrote it?

Hi bb! ^^ Sure, I'd love to!

I'd like to take the chance to talk about a scene from intricate rituals, my omegaverse Jaytim fic featuring beta!Tim being courted by alpha!Jason.

This scene takes place near the end of the rising action, at the tail end of the fifth time that Jason was totally courting Tim, and Tim still did not notice. Obviously, spoilers under the cut for anyone who hasn't read it yet, and I am a chatty mfer so this got kind of long, haha:

Tim dozes against Jason’s shoulder as he fiddles with the bedroom door handle, and does absolutely nothing to help when they reach the bed in the corner; so Jason dumps him on top of the sheets without fanfare. He bounces on the mattress with an offended chirp while Jason turns to look through his dresser for something. Tim whines obnoxiously at the sudden cold and wriggles around until he’s under the cool top sheet, his face firmly shoved into one of Jason’s pillows. He squints an eye open when Jason still hasn’t finished doing whatever he’s doing, only to see him standing over the bed. His face is unreadable in the darkness, but Tim can tell that he’s clearly dithering.  Why? He better not be getting weird about this. It’s only weird if Jason makes it weird. Tim is not nearly awake enough to puzzle through the why right now. He’ll think about it later. “Jason. Get in the bed,” he grumbles. Jason startles at the sound of Tim’s voice, but does as he’s told. The second Jason is under the covers, Tim invades the inch of space left between them with impunity. But then— Jason stiffens, so Tim stops about point five millimeters away from actually touching him. “Sorry," Tim says quietly. "You're really warm?" He says it like a question, trying to explain himself and ask permission at the same time and he can't really tell if he's accomplished either. Jason seems to get it though; he takes a breath and relaxes, then closes the remaining distance himself. He pulls Tim into the hot cave of his body, leaving an arm slung over Tim's waist and tucking him under his chin. Tim sighs, a purr thrumming softly in his chest as he tangles himself in Jason. He buries his face in Jason’s collarbone and quietly wonders to himself how he got here.  He's not sure he knows how he and Jason went from barely tolerating each other in the same room, the same city, (the same costume) to cuddling like packmates in the same nest. Yeah, a nest Tim basically invited himself into, and okay when he’s more awake he’ll feel a little guilty about that— but Jason carried Tim here himself. He didn't have to do that. He had every opportunity to say no. To think that he has Jason's trust now. That Jason would let him in this close, have him at his back, at his throat, have access to the vulnerable parts of him. It's terrifying. It's wonderful. It’s only marred by the smallest hint of apprehension still woven through the sleepy warmth of Jason's scent, that Tim only catches because his nose is practically shoved against Jason's scent gland. With a small, trilling keen, he tries his best to project calm-safe-acceptance. He’s had practice at it since becoming Robin, since joining the Wayne pack, but he's always been better at masking his scent than projecting it. A lifetime of hiding is hard to unlearn.

(you don't realize how long 500 words is until you see it right there on the page lol)

So intricate rituals is practically a study in denial. Tim spends half the fic justifying to himself (and to us) why Jason's overt alpha courtship behavior has a completely platonic explanation, and never ever even hints that he, himself, a beta, might in fact want a romance with Jason. Even though he really, really does.

So when I start writing out the prose for a scene, I try to keep those big guiding principles for the overarching plot in mind, as well as what I'm hoping to accomplish by the end of the scene. There's a few things I wanted from this scene in particular.

First: absolutely gag-worthy #married behavior. This is it! This is the final example of Jason's courtship and Tim's flimsy excuses (AKA the formula for each scene lol). So it has to be truly outrageous. It has to be over the top. The cream of the crop. And this time, it has to be Tim's idea in the first place. Get hoisted (from your own petard), idiot.

Second: it has to set us up for why Tim is in Jason's bed in the final scene. I knew all along how this fic was going to end - with Tim in Jason's bed, but comfortable there already; the tip-over from platonic to romantic that only happens because they're in such a stupidly domestic position that Tim is FORCED to realize that he might not be the only one pretending that This Is Fine.

Third: this is almost a step too far for Jason. But not quite.

In the first half of this snippet, we catch the end of the egregious courting behavior. Jason literally carries Tim into his nest/bed. He has to step away to get PJ's or something - Tim's not paying attention to that, so we don't really find out for sure - and when he comes back to see Tim whining and wriggling and getting comfy in his sheets, he has to take a second. For #strength.

Like usual, Tim clocks that something is bothering Jason; that Jason is Experiencing An Emotion. But also like usual, he doesn't clock what it is. Even though it's obvious to us, the romance pilled and dramatic-irony-aware audience. Even worse, he's so deep in his own denial (which hopefully we've picked up at least an inkling of by now, but it's not explicitly told to us until the next interlude scene) that he blames Jason for making it weird. He gets so close to making the intuitive leap about why EXACTLY Jason might be hesitant about sharing a bed, but he's too ~sleepy UwU (and ~afraid OwO). UGH, TIM.

(I try to balance action with introspection. Action -> reaction -> introspection -> action. Jason dumps Tim on the bed -> Tim whines and gets comfortable -> Tim wonders what's taking Jason so long -> Tim opens his mouth to ask "hey wtf is your problem". But preferably the action/reaction is described vividly enough and in the character's voice enough that we can, like, microdose on introspection along the way and keep the ball rolling lol)

When Jason is told to get in the bed, he startles - he was lost in his own thoughts. I like to think Jason was pondering his own version of what Tim sort of torments himself (and us) with every scene; wondering to himself how they got here, lamenting the fact that Tim isn't interested in him the way he would like him to be, and thankful that he gets to have him at all. Maybe contemplating what might happen if only he was a little braver. If this is it; if this will be Tim's line, and whether Jason's about to cross it. (Tim lies to himself about his feelings. Jason is brutally honest with himself about his.)

Tim moves in for the cuddle - Jason stiffens because he's still boggling at this whole situation, and a little afraid that Tim will realize exactly where they are and finally tell Jason 'no'. Again, Tim clocks his discomfort - "Sorry," - and again he misunderstands its source, mislabeling the motivations behind Jason's actions.

Jason makes himself open, and Tim takes happy advantage. Awww, they're cute, even if I do want to strangle them 'now kiss' style. Cue Tim's 'isn't it crazy how we're such good friends now' narrative monologue for the scene.

(🔥"HOT CAVE OF HIS BODY" MENTION🔥) (i can't resist this phrase OTL i'm weak for it)(it's about protection it's about warmth it's about the primal imagery of being nestled under the weight of something powerful that loves you)(<- werewolf pilled)

In this last half of the snippet, I wanted Tim to kind of show his ass here, re: being in denial lol.

"He's not sure he knows how" - Tim, we all just saw exactly how you and Jason ended up here. Yeah, we skipped some of that early stuff, but we just saw the start of your deeper friendship. It started with an omelette.

"When he's more awake he'll feel a little guilty" - Tim, didn't you just explain to Jason and to us why you shouldn't feel guilty? That it's perfectly normal to share a nest with packmates? Why do you feel guilty about this, Tim?

"He didn't have to do that." You're right. He didn't have to do that, and he did have every opportunity to say no. Why didn't he, Tim?

He tries to explain that it must be because Jason trusts him. That Jason's trust is a wonderful and terrifying thing to have. Huh. Interesting. Why does that terrify you, Tim?

Then Tim picks up on Jason's scent. Jason's own fears are the only thing that can cut through Tim's spiraling thoughts right now. Jason's made peace with having what he wants so close but still so far; and yet, he still can't help but ache.

Wanting to ease Jason's discomfort is what makes Tim bold. He tries to make Jason more comfortable by reassuring him that Tim feels safe here. That he feels accepted, and that he accepts Jason - which is true, regardless of his secret, presumedly unreciprocated feelings. Aww.

The last paragraph was a two for one - transitioning us into wrapping up the scene, but also, low key? The thesis of what we've seen so far. This explains at least one facet of Tim's behavior, prepping us for his breakdown and the emotional reveal in the next interlude.

Why is Tim in denial? Why won't he admit, even to himself, that he wants Jason? Sexually, romantically? That Jason could be courting him, that Jason could want him too? Because he's always been better at masking than projecting. A lifetime of hiding is hard to unlearn.

I really enjoyed writing intricate rituals, and my biggest hope was that everyone would be ready to strangle Tim by the end of this scene - but also hurt for him by the end of the next. When you get used to the idea that you are unwanted or undesirable, in any capacity, it's truly difficult to let yourself be convinced otherwise. But there's bravery and freedom to be found in finally allowing yourself to believe it. <3

[klaprisun]

One Sunny Day

(Stardew Valley)(Haley x Female Farmer)

Chapter 19

“Well if you are so keen on me going first, maybe I will. Give me your best shot,” Shane fires as Sam.

“Alright then SHANE. Truth or Dare?”

“Truth.” Shane will regret picking that.

“How many times have you needed your stomach pumped?” Same does not hold back. We are already off to a great start.

Shane uncomfortably looks around the circle, but still avoids everyone’s eyes. “...Twice..,” He finally admits. Penny kindly pats his shoulder, sympathetically.

“Alright now you ask someone, Shane,” Sam eagerly exclaims. All of our spirits are kind of down now since it was such a hard hitting start. Hopefully whatever this next one is will bring some energy back.

“Ummm…” Shane takes a second to pinpoint the next victim. “Leah. Truth or Dare?”

“I’m feeling bold tonight,” Leah hiccups drunkenly, “Let’s go with dare.”

“I dare you to climb onto the roof of Elliots cabin and shout at the top of your lungs: ‘I just shit my pants!’” Shane chuckles at his own dare.

“That’s easy work. Watch me!” Leah gets up from her blanket, and stumbles over to Elliot's cabin.

“Don’t you fall through my roof, Leah! I will make you pay for it.,” Elliot hollers after her. She disappears around the back of the cabin. After a couple minutes pass, she appears at the peak of the roof. The rest of us on the beach erupted into cheers, egging her on.

“I JUST SHIT MY PANTS!!!” Leah screams into the night. It was loud enough that she caused a few animals to stir from the woodsy area lining the beach. Elliot runs over to help her get back down from the roof since she is fairly drunk. He does not trust her with his cabin or to get down safely.

Leah comes prancing back to her spot after getting helped down. We all applaud her boldness and execution of the dare. Elliot returns back to his spot as well after Leah left him in her dust.

“And for my next trick… I will decide that Maru will go next. Truth or Dare, Maru?” Leah smirks.

“Dare! Yours seemed fun, Leah. You’ve inspired me to be bold,” Maru answers.

“Well. I dare you to go dive off the pier into the deep, dark, cold water,” Leah announces.

“I think the worst part is sitting in the wet clothes after,” I say to Maru who has gotten up to start her journey to the pier. All of us also end up getting up from our spots to go over to watch her jump.

“But first, how drunk are you? Drunk and swimming don’t mix and I don’t know how sober the rest of us are to come in and get you,” Penny anxiously asks.

“I’ll be okay to swim to shore. Don’t worry,” Maru reassures her.

We get to the very end of the longest dock and give Maru some space to get ready. She is bouncing up and down, trying to psyche herself up for the big dive.

“It’s going to be so cold,” She mutters, still trying to get the courage to jump.

“We can give you a countdown,” I tell her.

“Okay. Start at 5 and count backwards,” she requests. And so we do.

“Five! Four! Three..!” We begin to chant. But before we could countdown any more, she dove in head first, causing us to erupt into cheers once again.

“IT'S SO COLD!” she squeals as she resurfaces. Hurriedly, she starts doggy paddling to the shore. We all meet her there to pull her out. I quickly wrap a blanket around her shoulders and walk her back over to the fire. The rest follow us back over.

“You did great! Hopefully you warm up quickly,” Leah applauds her.

“I guess it’s my turn to pick now, huh?” Maru shivers, “I will pick Alex to go next. Truth or Dare?”

“Dare. Duh,” Alex booms loudly. He is already starting to stand to get ready for whatever Maru will give him to do.

“Do the splits!” Maru giggles.

“Uhhhh,” Alex unsurely takes a big step, widening his stance.

“Farrtheerrr!” Maru sing songs. Alex takes another big step, widening his stance even more, but not quite far enough for Maru.

“Keep goinggggg…”

Alex groans as he steps as far as he can to widen his stance into the splits. He could only hold it for a second, because he topples over and sighs in relief.

“Great job! You got pretty far. Keep on that and you’ll be doing a full split no problem,” Maru cheers.

“Elliot. Truth or Dare?” Alex groans in pain.

“I will go with truth. I don’t feel like getting up,” Elliot says with a yawn. It must be past his bedtime.

“We will go with a classic question. What’s your body count?” Alex asks, still sprawled out in the sand.

“Well let’s see here…” He starts using his fingers to keep track, “...I’d say maybe 4?”

Leah looks at him shocked as she must’ve not known that about him.

“All college flings. Maybe one was during high school?” He shrugs.

“That was no fair. He got an easy one,” Shane cries out while holding his hand out Elliot’s way.

“Sebastian. Truth or Dare?” Elliot calls across the fire.

“Dare,” Sebastian calls back.

“Kiss Sam,” Elliot says while pointing to Sam. Before Sebastian could even react, Sam lunges over towards Sebastian and kisses him first instead. It was almost like he was waiting for that moment.

We all burst out into giggles and laughs at this scene unfolding. Sam and Sebastian are basically making out at this point in front of all of us. Abigail has a look of horror on her face as she still did not know about this. She drops the blanket she and Seb were sharing from around her shoulder and smugly scoots Penny over so she could share the blanket with her and Shane.

She brings her knees to her chest and rests her chin between her knees.

As everyone seems to let Seb and Sam have their moment, I decide to survey the circle and see how everyone looks to be feeling. The alcohol seems to still be flowing as everyone is swaying and slurring their words. Curiously, I look to see what Haley has been up to this whole time. My eyes are met with hers staring back my way. Even from this distance, I can see the reflection of the bonfire dancing in her ocean blue eyes. She is only 2 blankets over from me, but I wish I could be closer. I wish I knew what she was thinking.

The fact she was looking at me before I had turned to look at her must mean something. Could she possibly be into me? Was I just crazy and everyone is right? Or am I right about her feelings towards me and everyone else is wrong?

My thoughts were suddenly interrupted by Sebastian finally breaking away from Sam’s lips and picking the next victim.

“Haley. Truth…” he pauses for a moment, putting a lot of emphasis on the word, “or Dare?”

“Truth I guess?” Haley hesitates. Raising an eyebrow at the conspicuous attempt at getting her to pick truth. Sebastian rolls over to lay on his stomach and crosses her arms to hold himself up. He puts one hand up to his mouth and very loudly clears his throat, gathering everyone’s attention.

“Are you into women?” Sebastian questions her, almost like he was reading my mind.

All eyes are now on her. The whole atmosphere noticeably changed, that it even affected the bonfire. I might be crazy, but it looks to be burning even brighter, giving everyone a clear look at her fearful expression.

Giving her my full attention, I don’t dare move so as to not accidentally miss her answer. Her gaze adverts from the deer in the headlights expression to meet my eyes. I can see a faint shine around the rim of her eyelids as if she is about to cry.

“I-...uh-..” She takes a cup from beside her and starts chugging whatever drops of punch she had left in it. Smacking it back down on the ground, she takes a deep breath. Just as she is about to answer, a loud pop echoes across the beach causing us all to flinch. I even heard Penny let out a shriek.

The giant bonfire in the middle of our circle comes collapsing down. With one last aggressive roar of the flame, the fire goes out almost instantly. Over all the chaos brewing, I swear I could still hear the sigh of relief Haley let out.

“That must be the universe’s way of telling us to get the fuck to bed,” Shane laughs. It was the first time I’ve heard him genuinely laugh.

We all start shaking the sand out of the blankets and folding them up for Emily and Haley to take back home. The two of them end up getting piled with a stack of blankets with how many they ended up bringing to the bonfire.

“Need some help?” I suggest to the two of them.

“That would be incredible, thank you,” Emily responds. Haley is hiding behind her stack of blankets she is trying to carry. I walk over to her and take half of the pile she is holding, allowing me to see her shy looking face.

“I didn’t need any help. I got it under control,” she remarks.

“Well you looked like you were struggling to see. It’s too late now anyway I'm not putting these back.” I heave the stack of blankets to balance them on my shoulder, holding them in place with my arm wrapped over them.

Even in the dark, I can see her cheeks change color. “You do that so effortlessly,” She gushes, slurring her words a bit from drinking all night.

“It really is nothing compared to the stuff I lift on my farm. A couple blankets are super light in comparison.

The three of us journey over to their house, our path lit by the faint glow of the streetlights. The rest of the group had also parted ways for the night. We even got to watch Sam struggle to sneak through his bedroom window. We all giggle at him, so he shoots us the middle finger when he successfully makes it through, causing us to giggle even harder.

Emily fumbles while trying to unlock the door for us, but eventually gets it open.

“Just toss them on the couch, I’ll wash ‘em in the morning,” Emily yawns, “Good night you two. Behave!” She shakes a finger back at us but starts veering the wrong way on her path to her room, causing her to run into the counter. Adjusting her direction, she swings her door open and slams it shut, leaving Haley and I alone in the living room.

“Well I’ll just set these - hic- here and head off now,” I say to Haley with a hiccup. I go to set down the stack of blankets, but my whole body ends up falling with them to the couch. I start giggling uncontrollably, causing Haley to join in. She sets her stack of blankets on the ground and climbs on top of me to join me on the couch. I roll over, holding her in place, so that I’m facing her instead of her being on my back.

I put my arm behind my head to use as a pillow and to prop my head up to look at her. “I hope my armpit don’t stink,” I say to her with a chuckle.

“Mmmm no you don’t stink. You always smell good. You smell like the outdoors which is such a refreshing smell,” she sleepily responds.

“You know, you never did answer Sebastian’s question…” I test her, seeing if her tired, drunk and vulnerable state will get her to crack and at least give me the answer.

Her head pops up from where she was laying on my chest to look up at me. She takes a moment to think but scoots up closer to my face. She takes my chin in her hand and pulls my face closer to hers. My breath hitches in my lungs when I realize what’s happening.

She guides my lips so they crash right into hers. Her soft, punch flavored lips move with mine in a desperate, needy kind of way. She adjusts her body so that she is fully over me now, hovering over my torso. Instinctively, I wrap my hands around her hips and pull her closer. I don’t take my hands away, as I start to play with the hem of her sundress with my pinky. She lets out a faint moan as we continue to show each other just how bad we wanted this moment.

I drag my one hand up her back and play with the straps of her flowery sundress. Gently tugging them down her shoulders and letting them fall loosely down her arms. My hand then travels up her neck and finally rests on the back of her head. Feeling bold, I take her bottom lip softly between my teeth and pull back. She lets out another moan and immediately dives back in for more. Her hips are moving against me in a way that turns me on even more than I already am. Her hands are clasped tightly along my jaw and neck. However, she ends up moving her hand from my neck and replaces it with her mouth. She nips and tugs at the skin at the base of my neck where it meets my collarbone. I can’t help but let out a breathless sigh at how good it feels. She must’ve heard, because she comes back to my lips and kisses me hungrily once again.

It all comes to an end when her lips let go of mine. I let out a sigh of disappointment as I did not want it to end. My head is spinning from the adrenaline rush and alcohol that’s still flowing through me. She pulls back and gives me a smirk of satisfaction. She comes back in but brings her lips next to my ear instead.

“Does that answer your question?” she whispers seductively. 

[0alanasworld0]

Our Allens <3

How would our boys react to the Barbie Movie?

Warnings: none

♡ Yassine ♡

I imagine that out of the two of you he’d be the first to see the trailer when it comes out.

Like minutes into its release, already in his Youtube recommended 

He was well beyond the age of acting like he was too cool for it

It looked fun and right up your alley

You’re busy with work and he doesn’t close your laptop but he holds his phone over it so you can watch

You’re not too happy with the interruption but he just seems so excited, practically buzzing so you take the phone.

2 minutes and 42 seconds later, you’re up on your feet and buzzing with him

He’s quick to sift through your shared closet for things to wear (before everyone else decided to do it)

He’s got some pink dress shirts so he thinks he’ll be fine but you on the other hand

He’s not impressed by the lack of variety

There’s months before the film comes out but no, you need to be prepared and NOW

Practically dragging you to the mall to look for stuff because there is NO WAY you’re going to this film underdressed

He picks a hot pink skirt and white top that he thinks you would look cute in

He’s got surprisingly good taste, let's just say that and before you even open your purse, he’s paid for it.

As the release date gets closer and closer and more trailers come out, he has a new and even more brilliant idea

All black 

“If you wanted to go to Oppenheimer instead, you could have said!”

He gasps in offence and pulls out the screen-cap that inspired him

“... also what is Oppenheimer exactly?”

“Yassine, I can’t wear a damn tiara!” “Why not?”

You end up having to wear the tiara

You spend about half an hour taking photos in the Barbie box before doing anything

He doesn’t post anything because he never posts anything but you certainly do and it gets reposted onto the Sevilla instagram because it’s just too darn cute

He cries at the Billie Eilish bit but gets over it quickly so you can jam to the Ice Spice remix together

“I promise you that I’m more of an Allen than a Ken, Angel. I would never believe in patriarchy! And I hate horses!” “...” “Okay I don’t hate horses but you get the idea!”

“So do you want to watch oppenheimer?” “Angel, I still don’t know what that is if I’m being completely honest.”

He thought that Barbenheimer was just a cool reference to how well the film was gonna do

“Why is it such a big deal that they come out at the same time? Mamma Mia and the Dark Knight also came out at the same time and no one said anything about that!”

You do end up watching for the sake of it but he’s not feeling it at all.

“Do you think that Cilian Murphy is more attractive than me?” “He could never.” 

He’s quite pleased with that answer and he gets all blushy

He ends up dragging you to the next screen to watch barbie again right after for a ‘palette cleanser’

♡ Abde ♡

You’re definitely the one to push it in this instance

He’s young, like really young, so there is a little bit of an obsession with that macho image

Much less of it since he managed to win you over by letting it go but its still kinda there

Even with that, he may have read a couple of unflattering reviews (obviously from men) so he’s not got the best impression

It doesn’t take you long to convince him at all because the the way your eyes lit up is enough 

He loves the idea of you dressing up all cute for it, happily help you pick an outfit but when you bring up the idea of HIM matching you, he’s not so keen

“Come on! What's wrong with a bit of pink? Most designer men’s clothes have a little bit of it!” “Yeah but that's different!” “Sure (!)” 

You do manage to get his approval of one pink shirt but he’s a little bit sulky the whole way home and you give him the silent treatment for it

He respects your space but he ends up whining to his brother about it which feels like the biggest mistake when his mum overhears it; more of a blessing in disguise to be honest

“That girl puts up with so much of your nonsense and you can’t even put on a pink shirt for her Barbie thing without adding on even more nonsense? Ya Allah, forgive me I’ve raised a wannabe macho idiot for a son!”

His dad ends up overhearing as well and gets to a stern explanation

“In what world is pink girly? It’s a fucking colour, son. Any ‘man’ that associated a colour with being a girl is a west-washed little boy, you wear little necklaces and get an eyebrow slit but you draw the line at pink? I raised you better than that.”

His brother ends up chiming in too.

“Yeah man, it's a little scummy. It’s a pink shirt and two hours of your time, she used to wear that ugly yellow kit happily to matches AND she watches you play video games for way longer than that, and at least a movie might be more entertaining…”

At first he doesn’t really want to believe anything that they’ve said but he spends the evening pondering over it, only feeling more and more guilty and time passes by

“I’ll just watch it with my friends, it's fine!” but you’re obviously disappointed, he can see it written on your face and you don’t give him time to say anything as you walk away

He spends a good hour going back and forth with you about that, eventually just wrapping you up tight in his arms and apologising over and over again

“Pleeeeeeeeeeaaase take me! It’ll be fun, I swear! I’m a fun guy, am I not?” “You’ve changed your tune.”

“My parents didn’t raise a west-washed little boy, did they?” you don’t know what that means but you can’t really ask with your face pressed up against his neck.

“Should I grow out the eyebrow slit?” 

You find the strength to pull away from him with that suggestion, “YES!” 

To add to the apology, he lets you do his nails but refuses to let you push at his cuticles

Not that you need to do that anyway because his nails are beautifully shaped and you LOVED being able to paint them

He does indeed make it a fun experience when you go out for it and you get some really cute photos together

He spends a while getting photos of you in the booth on your own because you looked so damn adorable

During the film, he keeps pointing out the outfits he thinks would look good on you… so basically everything.

He’s intrigued by the giant fur coat but you immediately put a stop to that

“But look! it's so-” “Ugly! Looks like a freshly killed polar bear rug!”

By the end of the movie, you're both in tears and he gives you the biggest hug he can manage when you leave the theatre.

Its a genuine eye-opener for him

“I’m such a Ken, anjo!”

It's his awakening: he didn’t really like acting all hard and cool anyway and now he had a better understanding of just how dumb that mentality was.

Constantly talking about “boyfriend-girlfriend” things

You didn’t mind but you wished he would stop referring to it as that because you wanted him in all his glory and you didn’t need to be laughing in the middle of it.

♡ Hakim ♡

Its a cute little moment where you swap phones to show each other the trailers

He’s definitely more intrigued by Oppenheimer but he’s happy to watch barbie with you

Of course, so long as you watch Oppenheimer with him

Like Yassine, well beyond acting too cool for a movie and the colour pink

Your outfits match and are a mix of pink and black so you can really get into the spirit of the occasion

You match clothes quite often but it still makes him smile when you get excited and scan over the outfits

He honestly just liked doing stuff with you and vice versa

He’s not really bothered by what anyone thinks of him anymore

You watch Oppenheimer first and he can’t help but point out the things he told you about when he explained the movie to you

He has some of his own critiques and gripes too

He’s not impressed when he sees the American flag nor is he happy with the nudity but he’s okay with the film, overall.

Surprisingly enough, he was actually quite excited for barbie. 

You had explained every little detail from the trailers and the underlying themes and easter eggs and he supposed that at least 1 live adaptation was ready to be faithful

You’re the more energetic watcher while he’s just extremely focused

Like his eyes don’t leave the screen once, he looks to be in deep thought

Although there is some palpable shock when Barbie is called a fascist

You’re worried when he hasn’t said anything by the end of the film, fearing that he was gonna be one of those

“Men really suck, huh?” 

Big relief and you agree with a laugh

You spend ages talking about the little intricacies in the movies and the deeper messages, from when you get back into the car and well into the evening

He does post a little thing on his story: a blurry photo of the two of you

His brothers do tease him a little bit but they’d all watched it with their partners too and they were all in agreement: it was fantastic

They acted cool and stoic critics about it on the outside but the excitement on the inside was still evident

You pointed out one of the dresses from the movie that you loved, thinking he wasn’t paying attention but alas

He goes above and beyond to find a replica and eventually just settles on a tailor to make you a custom one

He has your measurements because he’s bought plenty of custom pieces for you already and he wouldn’t stand for anything less than perfection

If he was picky for himself, imagine how h would be for the love of his life

He gets a little slap-happy with it and ends up ordering like 4 custom outfits for you instead of one

He wondered about whether he should save them for special occasions but he concluded that he just couldn’t wait

I imagine you coming back from a long day at work and the outfits are laid out, in their garment bags 

You assume that he maybe got himself some new jackets or something because that's pretty common for him

When you unzip the bags and obviously you’re surprised

“Do you like them?” “I mean yeah but… what?”

He can’t wait for you to process anything and he’s hurrying you to try it all on

Obviously you look absolutely stunning and the way he’s looking at you has you all nervous: partly because he always just looked at you like you hung the moon and stars but also you were slightly concerned that he was seconds away from tearing it off you

“Oh god, you’re such a barbie…” he knows exactly how big of a compliment that is, your beloved allen

♡ Nayef ♡

He definitely isn’t at Yassine and Hakim’s point where image isn’t that big of a deal but he’s an absolute sweetheart

Genuinely so positive and joyful, in that sense there’s a unique maturity about him

You call him over to watch the trailer with you and he doesn’t really understand but matches your excitement when you point out the little details

I feel like he would be doing a lot of his own research too, those youtube videos of people analysing the trailer frame-by-frame become his new obsession

I imagine he’d be getting into a lot of arguments on his burner twitter account with the bitter men trying to tear it down

He doesn’t care at all, he’s going to see barbie with you the first chance he gets and he’s going to find a matching outfit somewhere

You assumed he’d just find a pink shirt but no, he spends ages sifting through the internet for a ken inspired outfit that he could replicate and a barbie outfit for you, pink would not suffice on its own, you were gonna go all out with some proper references

He’s definitely the most Allen-esque of the boys, that's for sure

Proudly posts a photo of the pair of you on his story and your matching outfits with the reference on the side

He does get a lot of praise online for it for being so “brave” but he sees it as the bare minimum and doesn’t quite understand why it's such a big deal

Somehow he’s more excited than you at the theatre

And he somehow knows even more finer details than you as well, it’s kind of jarring

He LOVES the music and knows all the lyrics because he’s been listening to the album non-stop

He is in tears from America Ferrara’s beautiful speech

Constantly looking over at you like you’re a champions league trophy

The switch from emotional billie eilish to the upbeat ice spice remix is a bit of a shock but he just goes with it because at the end of the day, he’s having the time of his life with the movie

“You know I would love you no matter what, right?”

“Like you ARE extraordinary and perfect in every way but even if in some bizarro universe where you weren’t, I bet I would still be obsessed with you.”

And you fully believe him because he would drop anything and everything for you, no doubts in your mind whatsoever

I feel like he’d be so cheesy when you leave the theatre, like he’s carrying you to the car bridal style 

He would also refer to the deed as “boyfriend-girlfriend stuff” for months

He would be dragged to Oppenheimer with his friends but he comes back home too you and he looks far from impressed

“Well it certainly wasn’t Barbie, I know that much!”

not my usual style but i just thought headcannons would be a better format since i got requests for all of them! i hope u enjoy, lovelies <3

[scarletttries]

You Were Romeo, I Was a Scarlet Letter (Roman Roy Succession Request)

(Part two of Romeo Take Me Somewhere We Can Be Alone)

Pairing: Roman Roy (Succession) x Mattson!Reader

Warnings: Some spoilers for the new season, angst and fluff.

Word Count: 1.4k

Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who requested a part two to my Roman x Mattson! Reader fic! I hope you enjoy and there's still plenty of Succession requests in my inbox so more will be coming :) Also i'm going to do a special tumblr writing event soon so keep an eye out for that! 🥳

You Were Romey-o, I Was a Scarlett Letter

Since the night you and Roman had finally had your moment to be alone, you'd thought of little else. The way his lips felt pressed nervously against yours, the soft sighs he'd released as you showed him just how good you could make him feel, the longing in his gaze as his eyes lingered on you when the Mattson clan had all said goodbye to the Roy family, an obvious heartbreak glistening in them. It had been another long ten days waiting for the next time you'd even be in the same country, turning over every excuse you could think of to have the Waystar family flown over to Sweden for business. Luckily it seemed like Shiv Roy had a few ulterior motives that aligned with yours, jumping at the chance for the Roy siblings to fly over to Stockholm for the day, leaving you and Roman just one night to make up for lost time.

You felt like a teenager trying to concentrate in class despite being sat next to her crush as you zoned in and out of a presentation on share prices. The whole talk was clearly just some showy negotiation tactic you had no interest in, but watching Roman stare at the large glass window the occupied one wall of the conference room, just to catch slight glimpses of your reflection as the autumn sun set, that captured your full attention. Even from the other end of the table you could see the slight tightening in his cheek when he could finally detect your outline and couldn't fit the smile it brought him. You almost missed when the meeting finally drew to a close, Lukas asking to speak to Shiv for a moment after, and Kendall insisting he stay to 'keep in the loop', leaving you and Roman ample opportunity to slip into the elevator alone together, night air thick with anticipation as both your minds lingered on the last time you were in a confined space like this.

"Hi" Was the only thing Roman could think to say with a soft smile as he took one step to his left, landing close enough to you for your shoulders to bump gently.

"Mr Roy, why don't I give you a tour of Stockholm tonight? As our guest and future colleague." You plastered on your best customer-service smile as Roman furrowed his brow in your direction, watching your eyes gesture to the corner of the elevator exaggeratedly. Noticing the small blinking light he nodded, putting on his smarmiest voice to reply,

"You can just drop me off at any whorehouse or den of inequities and I'll be just fine thank you." Puffing out his chest, he wasted no time harging out of the elevator doors the moment they sprang apart. You had the fight back a laugh as you trailed him through the lobby, Roman stopping only to hold open doors for you before charging ahead again until you were outside in the cold and marching towards the rest of the city,

"This left Mr Roy." You said firmly, taking the lead now you were out in your element, waiting until you were out of sight of all the office cameras. Stopping abruptly you grabbed his hand in yours, pulling him tightly against your chest and leaning forward to catch his lips off-guard. He almost crashed into you in his keenness to finally be himself with you, body pressing hard against you as he smiled against your lips, arms wrapping around your back as if he never wanted to let go again. It felt so right to be this close again, sharing your body heat in the cool evening breeze, the tip of his nose tracing the outline of yours with every eager kiss. Finally leaning back for a non-negotiable breath he sighed out sincerely,

"I'm enjoying the tour so far."

"Now we just need to find you a house and I've done my job." A cackle erupted through his throat at your course joke, happily following suit as you grabbed his hand and began to walk into the city, certain he would follow wherever you led him without limit. He watched as you confidently led him through winding streets and pointed out places you knew and loved. Roman wished he'd ever felt as at home anywhere, as you seemed to be right here with him.

"I don't usually bring guys to my favourite bar on a first date so count yourself lucky." Holding open a little red door you could have easily missed if you weren't looking for it, Roman ducked under your arm, taking in the deceptively big space.

"I don't remember agreeing to go on a date with you." He teased, watching you roll your eyes as you squeezed his hand softly, easing his reflex to wait, flinching for a punishment for talking back. "Are you sure no-one's going to put this on twitter, since we're, you know, fraternising enemies?" He asked, nervously eying each of the bar's patrons, trying to hide his genuine concern in his usual snarky demeanour.

"I don't remember agreeing to fraternise with you." He replied with a wink, " I promise, no-one here knows who we are." He feigned an offended gasp, clutching his chest as you dragged him towards the sparsely attended dance floor at the back of the room. You could tell his little scowling face was about to argue, so you silenced his concerns the best way you could; draping your arms over his shoulders and pulling his lips onto yours. Relaxing reluctantly his hands found your waist, gently swaying your hips against his as you both let yourself drift along to the electric pop playing quietly through tinny speakers.

You let your head fall to his shoulder and held him tight, his hands reciprocating in an embrace you clearly both needed. It had been a lot to be apart after just a couple of perfect nights; the niggling doubt that any of this was real, that you had a hope in hell of making something real, that your families and businesses weren't going to crumble around you with one slight touch. But for a brief moment you both felt an intense wave of comfort just from being there together, a perfect moment reminding you what this was all for. And though you both knew that right now you were in the eye of the storm, a temporary peace that would inevitably be shattered, you couldn't help but feel it would all be worth it.

In the weeks apart you had fantasised about everywhere you and Roman could spend your precious night together, deciding if just bringing him home and ripping off his clothes was the best thing you could do to cherish that connection. But being out, in public, dancing in a bar like two normal people without gravity bending expectations pressing down on your shoulders, it was more than what you worried might just be lust.

"This is lovely." You sighed out, a soft chuckle slipping out of Roman's lips as he nodded in agreement, clutching you against his chest as he buried his face in your neck, breathing the comforting scent of you in so deeply he hoped it might stay in his lungs more than for a mere moment if he just held his breath long enough.

"You know I don't like my family that much?" His voice was small and timid as he uttered the words just beside your ear, the implications clear to you both as you tried not to let your hopes fly up to high where Lukas could shoot them down.

"But they are your family. And Lukas is mine. So for now, this is all we get." You were resigned to your fate for as long as this deal would take, the solemn look in your eyes enough to make Roman's heart ache like you were still apart. He nodded and resumed his slow sway, hands never leaving you for a moment.

"Well, deal's don't take forever. And for now, this is pretty great. I can wait if you can."

***

Author's note part two: I just wanted to say this part two was heavily inspired by the song WIRED by Jessica Leigh if anyone is interested in a musical recommendation from me!

[mushiemellows]

if you're still taking drunken love confessions, might I request 2 with hanahone?

(For Drunken Love Confession prompts, still accepting requests!)

"You're all I ever wanted. I'm sorry I can't say it sober."

The soil lay fresh beneath Brook’s fingertips, little sprouts of grass peeking up between weathered carpals. He’d been here before. Many times, in fact. The view of the sparkling sea would have caught his breath if he’d had breath to breathe. The sun set just as lovely as every sunset he’d admired since the day he’d stepped out from the shadows to join her. Or at least, that seemed to be the case, if only he’d had eyes to fully witness the sight. 

“You know,” he hummed as he reached for another bottle of wine, propped in his basket between emptied vessels and a bouquet of wildflowers, “this is a lovely little spot. I wouldn’t mind waiting here. Forever, perhaps. I could have picked from a few different places to go with you, but in the end I thought you would like it best if we could be near the sea.” He opened the cork with a pop and relaxed against the base of the great oak. For a brief moment, Brook considered pouring this next serving into his chipped cup, but then thought better of it. Shoulder bones shrugged. 

“Isn’t it nice to be back in the West Blue? Something about returning to the place of origin. Symmetry, one could say. Some think we’re closer to the sunsets here,” he said with a soft smile, or he would have if he had lips to contort. “And what about you? Oh, did you see those flowers, darling? I don’t know who planted them, but they’ve taken root wonderfully.” Brook brought the bottle to his teeth and let the tart liquid run down his bones in habit. It poured through the empty void until reaching his spine, splashing onto each vertebrae. Streaks of crimson stained raw ivory. The first bottle, then the second, and then countless more since. He’d always been time blind, but the sunsets had all blended into each other in the recent days. Days? Perhaps. Love makes fools of us all, though laughter had spoiled on his tongue as of late. If only he had the damn thing still intact for which to taste thosee most glorious fruits of ardor. 

“Shhh, my dear. Don’t say anything. Oh, how terribly rude of me! Would you like a glass? I know you always had a preference for a good cabernet. I’ve been enjoying this one far too much, I did not think to share.” The crimson stained his dress shirt, clung to an empty rib cage, pooled in his hip bones. Drunken intoxication weighed heavy in Brook's marrow; he did his best to soak in the remnant feeling. Bones chimed on the glass as he brought the wine from his mouth and extended it outward for Robin to try herself. 

The routine remained one of his favorites after a lifetime of love, or at the very least something resembling it. A lifetime, that was. Though he did not quite understand the notion. Not any more. Life, nor time. In fairness, it wasn’t much of a routine, keen as he was to never leave her side. Obsession, perhaps. Possession. Haunting. He knew the rumors, the whispers behind his back. Knew that young lovers left offerings of wine at the gate if they wanted to keep the spirit appeased. 

For a moment, he was. Appeased, that is. Dampened. Brook would have hiccuped if he’d had a diaphragm, though the lack did not stop him from his serenade. Words floated on the wind out to the sea toward the crimson sunset. An endless, unseeable spectrum of emotion hung heavy in his chest. They dripped off his collarbone through the space where his heart used to lay. He begged for catharsis, but lacked the blood or veins or tear ducts or nerves to properly feel each drop of his emotions. 

So he told her how he felt in every note and every couplet. He spun her little sonnets paired with the plucking of ivories on strings, a piano forte made of his own hollow bones when all else failed him. An everlasting being in the sunshine on the cliffs never stopped singing the ballad of his love. He remained invariant, a humming guardian beneath the great tree. Her old confidant, her ever-familiar lover, and a ghost always willing to help lift the spirits. 

Brook extended the bottle for Robin to take a drink. He tipped the glass, though his stained bones trembled in the last glimpse of sunshine. “Here, darling. Enjoy the taste once more, for the both of us. Savor, my love,” the dead man quavered as wine poured from his vessel to the fresh soil beneath. Sweet fruits, fermented well after their removal from the vine, returned back to the earth to nourish the insects and the fungi. 

“I love you, darling. You were all I ever dreamed of. Your companionship made life worth living. And now… I wish I could tell you once more. One final time. I think you know, I think you knew. Yet, I find myself so full of the ache of regret. Abyssal unknowing. You were all I ever wanted. I'm sorry that I cannot say it sober. Not any more. I’m sorry I cannot say it to your face. I'm sorry I cannot follow you further. I do not know if I was ever enough for you in life. You were everything to me. We saw the entire world together, and yet I witnessed no greater beauty than a simple sunset with you, my dear.” 

Then, the man who had been long-dead and yet so very much alive began his song anew. From the top. Once more, with feeling. A one, a two, a one, two, three. 

And the skeleton in the ground, six feet below the worms and the grass and the soaking cabernet, did not say much of anything at all. 

[therottenkingsreckoning]

Right, chapter 8 is done! Something much shorter and lighter than the last one, as they'll hopefully mostly be from here to the end of the story. Enjoy!

~~Little Flame, Chapter 8~~

Over the next few weeks, word got around to their remaining friends of Frank's request. There were of course the murmured apologies for bounds overstepped, but he was quick to assure them that it really was alright and all was forgiven. He meant it too. Now that their initial bout of anger had long since passed, Frank felt almost embarassed to have gotten *so* worked up about it.

Oddly enough, one of the people most upset to have made them upset was apparently Howdy. He'd been quite enjoying the recent upswing of their friendship, and "would hate to know I'd done something to ruin it." To make up for that, all kinds of baby supplies were brought into the shop for Frank and Eddie to choose between, the caterpillar assuring them that any products they didn't buy would be shipped right back or kept waiting in storage.

"Wow, quite the selection you got here," Eddie said as the two walked in. A row of freshly-constructed cribs stood side by side in the widest space the shop had to offer. Behind them were neatly organized shelves of diapers, bottles, tins of formula & pastel onesies. And in the middle of it all stood Howdy himself, looking proud as could be.

"Yep! Spared no expense. Your kids deserve the best after all, and that's exactly what they'll get here at Howdy's Place." It was his usual sales-pitch talk, but underneath there was also a genuine sense of love. Being able to provide for his friends and their families was Howdy's greatest joy in life, and even though he'd yet to meet them he was clearly keen on showering the child with gifts.

Frank chuckled, and set about testing the strength of one of the cribs. "What do think of this one love? It seems pretty sturdy, and the slats aren't too far apart."

Eddie considered it for a moment, looking the thing over carefully. Then shook his head as he pressed down on to the mattress. "Too firm, little guy needs somethin' softer. Don't wanna mess their bones up!"

"Not too soft though," Frank countered. "Babies need head & back support as well."

"How about this one then?" Howdy offered, gesturing over to one tall and elegant in white-painted wood. "Extra storage underneath, soft foam top layer on the mattress with a sturdy base, and it even has built in slots for mobile & monitor!"

This time both of them disagreed. "Far too fancy," Frank said. "And the height's all wrong. Let's take a look at the others before we make any decisions."

And so it went, going one by one through the different beds in search of a perfect match for their home. Yet in each one, no matter how perfect they seemed at first, there was always some trouble too much to bear. This one's slats were too wide, that one wobbled on its uneven legs, this other would be so close to perfect except it looked so terribly ugly.

"AUGGHH!" Frank groaned in frustration, burying his face in their hands. "Why is this so difficult? It's the first choice, and we can't even decide on that." He sighed deeply and shook his head. "We're no good to be parents."

"Aww, don't say that darlin'," Eddie reassured. "We're doin' fine, just...hit a little snag is all."

Frank snorted and glared at their husband through his fingers. "We would've already been done by now if you'd just agreed with me at the start."

"Hey now, you saw yourself it wasn't right! I'm just doing what's best for 'em!"

"And I'm not??" Frank snapped.

"HEY!" Howdy shouted above the rising cloud of tension, his upper arms gently keeping the two at a distance. Thinking quickly, he pried the tall white crib's deluxe mattress free, then swapped it out with the one from the first frame, internally sighing with relief as it fit near perfectly onto the shorter bed.

Gesturing proudly now with all four hands, he declared, "There you go! That should solve all your problems, so there's no more need for fighting."

Frank and Eddie stared silently at the newly re-mattressed crib for a moment. Then a nervous chuckle rumbled up from the grey, spilling over into genuine laughter from both. "That's perfect!" Frank said. "Thank you." He then leaned against their mate's shoulder and sighed. "I'm sorry for yelling at you, Eddie. You don't deserve it when you're just trying to be a good dad."

Putting an arm around them, Eddie snuggled back. "It's ok, I know ya didn't mean it. This is stressful business, and we're all feelin' a lot right now. It's a lucky thing Howdy's here to help us out though, right?"

"Of course!" Howdy smiled warmly. "It's what I'm here for. And I really do mean it- I want the best for all of you."

They ended up buying that first bed in its refurbished state, along with several boxes worth of the other supplies, a few toys and some clothes as well. Howdy helped them carry it all back to their house, and as he watched the two chat happily over their armfuls of bags, he couldn't but smile. Yes, this was how it should be. All his friends were were safe and happy. Their little town was so full of warmth and life and love, so ready to welcome its newest resident. Yeah, he thought with a soft chuckle. Things really are gonna turn out alright.

[neutron-stars-collision]

Deadlines & Commitments

Neil x F!Reader

Chapter 5 - Canary Wharf Underground Station

Masterlist; Chapter 4 Summary: The premiere of Don Quixote is here and you're very much not fine. Luckily, Neil know how to deal with that. Or does he? Warnings: Swearing, E-rated language, a decisive step into E-rated content at the very end :) Author's Notes: Apparently this new chapter is whole novel of 14.4k words because I cannot control myself whatsoever 🤷🏻‍♀️ And it's not even all of what was planned in the outline, so excuse the rather rude cliffhanger there. I promise though, a detailed continuation is coming ;) This chapter opens up the section of this fic that haunts my waking hours and sleepless nights so... brace yourselves ✨ As always, they're still very stupid and very into each other. And, as always, I only have an illusion of control over them. Without further ado - I hope you enjoy this nonsense and let me know what you think? 💕 Taglist: @hollandorks, @kristevstewart, @stargirl25 (let me know if you want to be added)

Every strike of the clock hand, bringing you mercilessly closer to the 6 pm curtain call, felt like a miniature heart attack, tightening the deadly loop around your stumbling heart. After you had stumbled back into the apartment close to 1 am after that fateful rendezvous at the studio, you foolishly hoped to get some sleep. But no such grace was deemed deserved for you.

Instead, you tossed and turned until 5 am before giving up entirely and focusing the restless energy on breaking in the pointe shoes for the evening and not messaging Neil. In that exact order.

You only succeeded at that first task.

When there was nothing left to do but show up at the Opera House later that afternoon, and the watch still proved the time did not want to willingly hurry the fuck up, you left the house with just enough minutes to spare to hop on the Jubilee line train as on every Wednesday morning. As if you had somewhere to be.

You drowned out the reasonable part of your brain, which helpfully reminded you how stupid this was, with a Don Quixote score blasting at full volume through your headphones and hurried through the walk with the usual brisque pace. You were not keen to admit that meeting Neil would offer peace of mind that nothing else seemed to provide. Or that ever since the night before, you could hardly get rid of him from your thoughts for longer than fifteen minutes at best.

Most importantly, perhaps, you did not want to think about the fact that whatever was happening between you had an expiration date. It always did. The only question was when and how far it would go before fate came knocking.

You only paused the music and took off the headphones when you stepped aboard the train and spotted Neil. He did not notice you, entirely engrossed by staring out the window, his pair of headphones perched atop his head. With the backdrop noise of beeping train doors closing behind your back, you allowed yourself another long look. Mostly admiring the fluffy golden strands falling over his eyes and the elegant curve of his profile, so striking in the harsh light of the overhead blinking fluorescents. A pathetic, dreamy sigh had to be swallowed for the sake of your dwindling pride as you crossed the remaining space and leaned over the empty seat next to Neil to give his head a light pat. He flinched, instantly taking off his headphones and turning towards you with wide eyes, poised to flee. You shot him an apologetic look, softened with another one of those fond smiles Neil seemed to have an ease of bringing out on your face.

“Why are you here?” the question was placed with that tint of a shocked gasp still present.

The confusion marred his features as Neil’s eyes wandered over your face as if not yet believing you were there.

“Ouch, I was hoping for a warmer welcome,” you shot him your best faux wounded look, following it with an arched eyebrow and a meaningful glance with an addition, “All things considered,”

It was impossible to stop the sudden influx of memories from flashing before your eyes as your brain helpfully offered highlights from the night before. How it felt to have Neil kiss your neck with all the devotion of a classical scholar. What it was like to be wanted by him.

If his responding blush was anything to go by, you were not the only one bombarded by memories. Neil dropped your gaze and swallowed hard, already making room for you to join him in the vacant seat. Only once you were sat snugly next to him, he raised his head again and spoke:

“You know what I mean. It’s early, and I-” he shook his head and reached out to grasp your hand, giving it a light squeeze, “Sorry,” it was paired with an innocent smile, the light of it making his blue eyes sparkle.

After that, there was no choice but to forgive him. Not that there was anything to forgive.

“You’re excused, sweetheart,” you returned the squeeze and enlaced your fingers, pressing your hands palm to palm. The skin contact was almost soothing, validating the very reasons why you had come there in the first place, “Answering your question: generalised anxiety disorder, stress, insomnia. You name it,” unsuccessfully shrugging off the unease, you broke the eye contact to stare at the stray eyelash, dotting his cheek. Without thinking, you reached out to brush it away, earning yourself another bloom of pink on his face and a wonderous gasp. It was a good enough encouragement to say what might yet be the most revealing truth of all, “I could barely stand still, so I figured I might as well get on the train and bother you,” by the end of the admission, you have dropped your gaze to the floor.

That was much better than seeing in real-time the effect of your confession on Neil. That plain understanding in the blue eyes always made you feel a little too seen. A little too transparent.

The weight of his hand within yours offered enough comfort for now. You could feel him trace small circles at the back of your palm, soothing and anchoring you in the present moment.

“I’d happily be bothered by you,” the hint of a smile in Neil’s voice acted like bait, drawing you out of the hiding.

You raised your head with caution, only allowing yourself to relax once you spotted a harmless grin on his face.

“Good,” you let go of his hand with reluctance, trying hard not to let yourself dwell too much on that flash of something close to disappointment on Neil’s face.

Sometimes, you still fooled yourself that those attempts at minimising the intimacy level could change things. That it could somehow make you more immune to his charms or less likely to get used to something that could never be permanent.

“Are you nervous about tonight?” the question offered a needed reprieve from the mess in your head.

As did the earnestness in Neil’s eyes, the desire to hear the answer and interest in what you had to say. Even if the mere reminder about the pre-premiere tightened the knot in your stomach and made you nauseous. You took a fortifying breath and sighed. The sound acted like the perfect preamble:

“God, yeah… It’s like, realistically, I know it’ll be fine. Probably. But I’m just freaking out” another frustrated groan resounded between you as you threw your restless hands and let them fall weightless in your lap.

The tapping foot was much more difficult to wrestle into obedience. So much so that you only stilted when you felt the heavy weight of Neil’s hand touching your knee with a dose of care. You glanced at him, aware of the deer-in-headlights look painted on your face. But, as usual, there were no cheeky puns to lighten the mood.

“It’ll be better than fine,” Neil squeezed your knee before lifting his hand and placing it back in his lap.

You tried not to ponder the devoid feeling left behind as the warmth of his touch faded from your skin. Instead, you turned towards him with an arched eyebrow and a provocative tone, hiding the insecurities:

“And how do you know that?” there it was again, that same desire for someone else to validate the fears and tell you what you have always suspected.

That you were not good enough for this. For anything at all. That it was best you stopped trying. That the only talent you possessed was talking shit and pretending to be someone you were not.

The depths of affection in Neil’s eyes did not seem to offer that type of honesty, however.

“Because you’re better than fine” the conviction in his voice tugged at the remains of sanity in your head as Neil mirrored your position and continued, the heated tone only growing stronger “You’re brilliant. Breathtakingly amazing and fucking incredible” you knew that battle was lost the moment you met his gaze, for now it was impossible to look away. You had been caught back in his orbit, as always, unable to move as Neil delivered the final sentiment, “And because I’m ninety per cent sure your brain is being a lying little bitch. Nothing more” then, just as you had begun to hope you could maybe look away from him or wake up from the spell, Neil leaned in to place a peck on your forehead.

Quick as lightning. It still made your heart pound with renewed energy. Still made you freeze with the wide-eyed look pasted onto your face. Still made you blush like an idiot.

Only after what felt like a solid five minutes you managed to shake it off, working hard to get past the blue screen of death in your brain and twist your lips into a sardonic smirk:

“You should become a PT,” the sparks in Neil’s eyes felt like instant gratification for the attempt at a joke, “People would pay a fortune for pep talks like this,” you hoped he would notice the gratitude shining through the mask you had put up.

That Neil would know just how much it meant.

“That’s more like it,” the answering grin told you that perhaps he did know.

Ever so carefully, he knocked your chin with his knuckles and shot you a wink, offering an out from the conversation you had hoped would show up.

You did not waste a chance like that.

“Are you coming on Friday?” it was another question you just had to ask.

Because, yes, he had technically said yes. Even accepted the PDF of a ticket you had sent him a few days before. But that didn’t mean anything. As far as you were concerned, Neil could still decide he had better things to do than attend a ballet performance on a Friday evening.

You did not dare look at him until you heard a reply.

“Obviously,” chancing a glance, you noticed the minor look of offence slowly transforming into a deadly smirk. Always too easily drawn in, you could feel its power of destruction as Neil added, “I’m even going to wear a suit. With a tie,” the pointed look following the sentence was meant only for you.

And was yours to interpret. There was heat there, blazing up his irises and making it too easy to drown in the blue. You watched as Neil glanced at your mouth, at how your teeth worried at the tender skin. You briefly wondered whether he wanted to know how it would taste on his tongue. You briefly considered asking him to try it.

Except that you didn’t. Because you did not think you had the right. Not yet.

Instead, you let out a low whistle and allowed your eyes to show exactly how this little bit of information made you feel.

“Damn… And you expect me to act normal?” the deadpan look could not erase the want easily seen on your face.

Even with just your imagination to rely upon, you knew the effect would be deadly. That seeing Neil on Friday might crumble your resolve into ashes and kickstart a chain of events you had tried to delay as long as possible. It would be a lie to say you were not anticipating it.

Neil only smiled, undeniably pleased about the effect of his words and your inability to pretend that you were unbothered. He leaned in closer, just enough so you would have no choice but to catch the smell of his intoxicating cologne, and replied:

“During the show? Sure,” the breath got caught in your throat, awaiting the second part of that answer as you stared back at him. The perfect pause executed with a flourish only Neil could be capable of, “After?” only half-aware of what was happening outside his blue eyes, you felt Neil’s hand cup your cheek. You stared as he carefully stroked your feverish skin and delivered the punchline, “We’ll see,” his touch was gone just as fast as you had felt it.

Yet the sentiment sent along with it would remain for much longer. You were sure of it.

“I’m holding you to that,” you held his gaze for a beat, cementing the hope that perhaps this time, those words would end up as something much more substantial than that – than words.

The responding nod was all you could hope for. And more. It opened a space for a comfortable silence, which settled over you like a blanket of ease. It soothed the nerves plaguing you since the moment you tried going to sleep.

After two stops, you broke the silence with a sudden thought:

“Actually, I’ve got an adjacent question that I’ve realised I never asked,” dropping the lead, you chanced a look at Neil.

As if sensing your gaze, he offered you a smile.

“Shoot, sweetheart,” the nickname rolled off his mouth with ease as if he was meant to call you that.

As if it came naturally. You still held a soft spot for ‘Cupid’, but this was something else. Something different.

“What station do you get off at?” ignoring the thoughts, you raised your head to stare at the Jubilee line graphic above the door on the opposite side of the carriage.

It was tricky to guess as you only knew Neil went further down the line than you, further than Southwark. The desire to know has been sparked by the same thing as usual. The sudden realisation that while you knew so much about him – the details of his childhood, the way he took coffee and how much he doubted his importance on the daily (idiot) – you did not know something that simple. It itched and scratched at your conscience almost as much as the mystery of his occupation did. And you felt this would be much easier to get out of Neil.

“Really deep, existential questions, I see,” his chuckle brightened your horizons, effortlessly getting rid of the sudden melancholy, “Canary Wharf,” you turned to him just as Neil offered the information.

Oh. Right. It was impossible not to perk up, lightening up like a dog that just got thrown a treat after hours of perceived starvation. Isle of Dogs painted a picture that fit what you thought of Neil. Except that it also didn’t.

The high-rise buildings and men in suits chasing after the colourful plastic bills. That wasn’t him. But the elegance, the perchance for dreamers to wander into the district searching for their salvation. Yeah, that seemed just about right.

“Ooh, fancy,” the cheeky smile had to do in place of a different comment. You immediately followed it with a question that needed courage to be asked: “Can I accompany you there?”

That was the crux of the issue. The fact upon which the fate of your soul was hanging. Not to be dramatic, that is.

“You know I can’t deny you anything if I tried,” Neil’s reply was strengthened by the look in his eyes, yet again boring into the depths of your soul in search of something he seemed desperate to find.

The soft smile painted upon his lips was hard to ignore, immediately drawing yours from its hiding place. The weight had been lifted off your shoulders, even if just by a fraction.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you met his gaze for once not scared of what you could find there.

All that mattered was the promise held within the unspoken. Now, Friday evening had an importance that went beyond the curtain call and final bows at the end. Now, you could hardly wait for the night to come.

The rest of the journey passed in peace, filled with light conversations and laughter that you hoped would stay with you for a while after you had parted. That it would be enough to keep the fears at bay during the upcoming evening.

Just as you had discussed, when the PA system called in Canary Wharf, and the view outside got transformed into the steely, brutalist sci-fi wet dream that the station was, Neil shot you a quick smile, grabbed your hand and got up from the seat, urging you to follow his steps. You did what he asked, stuck in a daze that only faded when the first rays of sunlight hit your face on the escalator to the ground level. You did not want to say goodbye. As much as it was obvious to you, it was still something you did not want to admit. Not out loud, anyway.

Instead, you tightened the hold on Neil’s hand and pulled him to a stop as soon as you were both standing in the ticket hall, far from the crowds. His questioning gaze was full of fondness. It fuelled the bravery you desperately sought as you placed your free hand on his shoulder and rose on your tiptoes to close the remaining gap. Pressing a tender kiss to his lips was the easiest of fates as you sighed into his mouth and allowed yourself to soften in the embrace Neil willingly reciprocated with only a second of delay. He let go of your hand to place both his palms around your waist, pulling you closer. Without you needing to be the forward one, Neil deepened the kiss with a quiet gasp, betraying the need underlining his moves.

Yet again, the kiss felt ground-breaking. Almost revolutionary in a way you could hardly describe. But, above all else, it felt important.

It was disappointing to discover that you both still needed oxygen after a kiss like that. With reluctance, you pulled back and took half a step away. Your hand stayed clasped over his shoulder, maintaining the precious contact and giving you an excuse to stay close. That first hesitancy to let go was sweetened by the look on Neil’s face, the dazed haze clouding his gaze. Despite the sudden nerves, the multiplying questions about whether you had not just fucked it all up beyond repair, you could not help but smile in the face of his puzzlement.

It took Neil an additional minute to squeeze your waist lightly and ask the question with all the innocence of a confused blonde puppy:

“Is this something that we do now?” his unfairly long eyelashes bated, the blue of his eyes flickering in and out from view in the emphasis of his befuddlement.

You did your best to ignore the pounding heart in favour of owning up to the rash decisions. The truth was you had no clue whether you did that now. It was never discussed. But, considering the implications of half the conversations you have had since the first meeting, it did not seem entirely out of place. Kinda.

So, instead of running away like the cowardice suggested, you shrugged and met his wandering gaze with something resembling composure:

“That’s up to you,” it was something you were sure of.

Something you tried to stick to when in doubt. Only this was the first time you brought it up and stated the rules of the play so Neil would be in on the secret. That haze in his eyes had faded by now, leaving watchful curiosity in its place.

“Why?” the caution in his tone made you swallow past the rising uncertainty and press forward.

Just fucking say it. You took a deep breath and dove in.

“Because I know what I want, but I don’t want that to determine what happens to us” the sentence felt clunky and graceless, but the understanding dawned in his eyes all the same.

Neil studied you in silence for what felt like ages before he placed another question. This one was devoid of confusion:

“And what do you want?” it was the simplest of questions anyone could ask.

But also one that you did not feel the need to answer. He knew it already. You offered him a signature cheeky grin and leaned in again to place a kiss on the corner of his mouth.

“Bye, Neil,” you let go of him with the farewell replacing your careful touch. This time, you did not want to look back, so you let the addition carry on the wind as you started walking away, “I’ll text you later,”

***

The pre-premiere night was a relative success. By that, you mostly meant that no one died; you managed to step onto the stage and more or less performed the choreography without fuck ups. None of these things meant that the anxiety had somehow disappeared before Friday evening and the official opening night. It was still present, making you jittery with nerves. Still, lowkey made you wonder what would happen if you bailed and made the second Cupid take up your share of shows.

Because the fact that you were given both openings did not escape your attention. You were painfully aware of the responsibility weighing down your shoulders. The heaviness settled in your bones as you went through the motions of the Friday morning. The only light in the tunnel came from Neil’s texts, reassuring and distracting, as always. You did your best not to dwell too much on what could happen after the show. In this case, your best was hardly enough.

By the time the clock struck 4 pm, you had just finished the final on-stage rehearsal. The sweat trickled down your temples as you escaped the company for a moment of peace. The silence was found in the backrooms, the dusty corridors not yet filled with stagehands, prop masters or assistants. But it wasn’t long now.

You slid down the wall into sitting and sighed. The restless mind already going through the itinerary:

4:25 pm – light lunch

4:50 pm – costume change

5:30 - in-costume rehearsal (short)

6:00 – make-up and hair

6:30 – be ready

7:00 – fucking showtime.

The schedule was simple; it offered no space for doubts. But doubts still came because that was a first. A first role of such a calibre. The first time you desperately wanted it to go well while also fearing that it never would.

And then, there was also that part concerning your addition to the guest list. That one ticket you had requested and a top-tier seat reserved in one of the red velvet boxes. That pair of eyes you wanted to impress the most despite logic and sense. With a tired sigh, you unlocked the phone and started typing a message:

/ 🏹, 4:07 pm/ I genuinely don’t think I’ll make it till curtain call.

/✝️, 4:09 pm/ You better survive. I’ve got plans, you know.

/✝️, 4:09 pm/ And before you try it – those plans require your presence, Cupid.

/✝️, 4:10 pm/ So get your shit together, sweetheart.

/ 🏹, 4:11 pm/ See, you did it again! Pep talks guru in the making.

/ 🏹, 4:11 pm/ I’ll try, no promises, however.

/ 🏹, 4:11 pm/ Are you actually going to wear a suit?

/✝️, 4:13 pm/ Yes. I’m getting ready as we speak.

/✝️, 4:15 pm/ And considering how brave you are, I’m going to be very generous right now.

What? You stared at the last message until the screen on your phone turned black. A thousand possibilities knocked around your head, leaving nothing but confusion in their wake. Because while the brief conversation already did what you expected it to, leaving you just a little calmer, that was not an outcome you expected. It was not anything you expected.

When your phone flashed with the notification of a new message, you lurched forward to unlock it with enough haste to mess up the code twice before finally typing it correctly. The messaging app opened first, already foreseeing your needs. Yet nothing, no conscious thought or expectation, prepared you for the sight. For the one photo without a word of caption. A photo of Neil, standing in what appeared to be his bedroom, judging by the background, sans a shirt.

The trademark smirk on his face, the eyes staring at the phone screen, undoubtedly fully aware of the effect this would have on you. And he wasn’t wrong.

You stared, feeling your face heat up. Gaze shamelessly wandered over the planes of his chest and stomach, displayed in the photo for your perusal. You could already feel yourself going crazy, could feel the arousal pool in between your legs. All because of a photo. Just a photo.

You could try arguing with yourself that this was some anomaly. That you were acting up due to stress and tension, only that you knew it was none of those things. It was just Neil. Neil, and his seemingly perfect body you desperately wanted to get your hands on. And mouth, too.

Fuck. You groaned for the third time within the last fifteen minutes and lightly bumped your head into the wall behind you. Now, a trip to the bathroom before lunch was not only recommended but also mandatory. Slowly, you got up and stared at the screen.

It would be rude not to respond. Or so you dared think.

/ 🏹, 4:19 pm/ Thank you.

/ 🏹, 4:19 pm/ And fuck you.

/✝️, 4:20 pm/ You never know, you might.

/✝️, 4:20 pm/ Good luck and give them hell.

***

In the last few months, Neil has pretty much gotten used to that constant feeling of confusion. To the fact that if his brain could transmit one thought to him, it would be a question. What the fuck? Just so. Just that.

Some days, like on that particular Friday evening, the question would perhaps gain two more words. Precisely: What the fuck are you doing? He did not know. Apart from the fact that, somehow, at some vague point, the friendship with Cupid transformed into something else. Something that had him going insane, sending her photos without a shirt on and potentially letting himself be led into some sort of an arrangement. A situationship that would most likely involve sex, but not love. Not feelings. That much was clear from the start. And that was fine. It really was. Neil didn’t love her; he only… liked her. A lot. And he wanted her.

A lot.

Enough so to ask no questions and agree to whatever fate offered him. It would be fine. And, perhaps most importantly, he already had a friendship out of it, which… was always good. Worth it. Probably.

Neil shook his head against the idiotic thoughts and picked up the pace as he left the station and hurried towards the opera house. The thin coat did nothing against the biting wind, so he attempted to undo the damage by tightening the olive scarf around his neck. Although there was still time left till curtain call, Neil could hardly slow down the pace. The strange sense of anticipation would not let that happen. Oh, so carefully, he adjusted the loose hold over the bouquet of roses. A dozen flowers, equally split between pink and red ones. While Neil knew she would still appreciate him showing up without the bouquet, coming empty-handed seemed wrong.

And then, there was the whole bit about coming to see her after the show. The instructions were relatively simple: leave the main building and walk around the side to Stage Door. There, drop her name to a scary usher, asking for permission to come backstage. It’ll be fine. She said. Neil wasn’t sure it would be fine.

But whatever. For that, he definitely needed flowers.

Only once the glass, grand front of the Royal Opera House appeared in his view, it was easier to breathe. To assure himself that he arrived right on time. Ahead of it, even. Following the stream of elegant theatregoers, Neil liked to tell himself that he fit in. That the attempt at looking like he belonged was successful. In truth, he had twice considered changing out of the suit and only followed the plan because of the very vivid memory of Cupid and the teeth worrying at the fragile skin of her lips that he had come to love kissing. She was worth the pain.

The reality of the evening only dawned once Neil had managed to find the correct box and his seat, a fortifying glass of Prosecco sparkling in the glass flute held in his hand. The ballet programme, acquired at the price of a small donation, opened in his lap. The cast list had snatched his attention first as his eyes unconsciously scanned the character list for the one that mattered the most. His gaze stopped at her name, the betraying finger coming up to trace the letters like the idiot that Neil is.

With a sigh of frustration, he turned the page, revealing a photograph. A still from the ballet itself. Most importantly, a still portraying Cupid in the garden of the Nyads, the painted trees behind her back making up the scene. Except that Neil could barely look away from her to register anything or anyone else in the photo. She was ethereal, the white costume looking ablaze in the cold light of the scene. Feeling his pulse pick up again, Neil snapped the programme shut with a decisive move and dropped it on the tiny shelf by the box edge.

One last time, he checked whether the roses were still alive (thankfully) and took out the phone from his pocket. There were no new messages, but he opened the conversation with her all the same. Without letting himself think about it too long, Neil typed out a simple text:

/✝️, 6:55 pm/ I’ll see you after the show. Good luck, sunshine.

He hit send and exited the app without a second thought. Cupid would see it after, but that hardly mattered. Neil made sure his phone was on mute before he pocketed it again, and turned his gaze towards the stage. The curtain was still down, the red material heavy and embroidered with golden thread. It fitted in with the grand interior of the opera house, the splendour of every spot he laid his gaze upon. Including the dome ceiling with a crystal chandelier hanging down. Neil no longer wondered why Cupid seemed so terrified of this evening, why the weight on her shoulders was so intense. Even the theatre itself was scary in its grandeur.

Before he could follow that line of thought, the door behind clicked open, and a flurry of voices rushed in, followed by the patrons themselves. An elegant, older couple shot him a friendly smile as they took the remaining seats in the box and settled in for the evening. A second bell rang out in the auditorium as theatregoers filled the seats. The night was sold out, as the billing in the foyer informed him. That, too, only made sympathy for her fears stronger. A quick, insane thought crossed his mind that Neil wished he could hug her. Wished he had more reassurance to offer than platitudes in texts that never provided true comfort. But it hardly mattered.

Neil downed the remaining prosecco with the third bell and leaned back in the seat. Fucking showtime.

***

By the end of Act 1, his hands were shaking. He dug his sweaty palms into the armrests and closed his eyes against the bustle of patrons getting up from their seats. And that was before the scene.

Because, sure, Neil knew Cupid would be present during some of the group scenes in the other two acts because she had told him so. But knowing and seeing were two different things. Seeing her right there on the stage, being just as incredible, stunning, and brilliant as he knew she was, was something else entirely. Cupid shone like a beacon, drawing his attention no matter what. Hell, half the time she was present in the scene, Neil was not sure he even registered what was happening. Talk about tunnel vision or whatever.

He had a feeling it would get only worse when her moment came. The solo that started it all. So, while the saner patrons visited the toilets and mingled in the bar, Neil sat frozen through the intermission, staring at the red curtain and hoping the twenty minutes would pass quickly. It was not even something he could explain, not an emotion he had been familiar with before. Sure, there had been crushes. Both fleeting, childish things and passion that made him believe love existed if he could feel so much for another person. But this was neither of those things.

It was endless admiration combined with enough fascination and passion to make Neil want to do stupid things. Like taking her home after and fulfilling all the flirtations he had indulged in since they met. Like placing his hands back on her waist and discovering what it’s like to touch her bare skin. Like hearing her- Yeah, that.

It was exhilarating to remember that an ending to the night of this kind was not necessarily out of the picture. Quite on the contrary.

As the curtain rose for the second act and the events of the plot got him, Don Quixote, and Sancho Panza closer to the Garden and Cupid in all her glory, Neil knew he was fucked. Utterly, hopelessly fucked.

Then, she stepped out. All in white save for the embroidered garland of blue flowers on the bodice and the skirt. She danced each step with grace and confidence Neil never once doubted she possessed. It made the breath catch in his throat and his heart stumble. She was perfect. She leapt and turned with each note, just as in that video she showed him at the start. The joy filled every cell of her body, visible in how she danced. The cheeky smile gracing her lips was a sight Neil was used to, yet still, it made him blush. Even from his vantage point, he could tell no one else could look away from her. From the force of her beauty, knocking down everyone within striking distance. Like the goddess she was.

 The minute was over before he was aware of it, staring as Cupid completed the final set of leaps. She landed in the set pose and froze. The music was soon replaced with thunderous clapping. The heart palpitations in Neil’s chest had been replaced by glee, a stupid grin present on his face on its own accord. There it was again, that pride flaring up in his heart as he watched Cupid smile.

Yeah, he was decidedly fucked. And there was still the third act left. Terrifyingly aware of the company, Neil swallowed hard and dug his fingers into the armrests again. He briefly wondered whether the cubicle walls in the toilets were sanitary enough so he could faceplant into one during the second intermission. He quickly concluded that it hardly mattered. A man’s gotta do, what a man’s gotta do. Or something.

***

The applause was a sound you could get used to. It filled every cavern of your soul and made you forget about the burning in your muscles and the tiredness that made you feel you were close to fainting. All of that vanished when the orchestra finished the final notes of the score, and the principal dancers stepped in, bowing to the crowds. Even from your spot at the back, you could see the patrons rise from their seats and applaud the dancers with faces full of awe. The feeling got stronger once it was your turn to bow before the audience, legs shaking from exertion and a wide grin impossible to wipe off.

Because, somehow, you actually did it. Survived. Thrived, even. Everything went better than you hoped. Better than you dared dream. The conviction, anchored in your heart with that first dose of thunderous applause after you finished the Cupid variation, began to grow roots. It did not vanish as soon as the curtain fell, and you had all begun to disperse, half-limping from exhaustion towards the dressing rooms. It stayed as you chatted and laughed with the girls, letting the costume assistants help you out of the corset.

Perhaps, most importantly, the exhilaration stayed because you could still remember the text you saw right before scene one. A short, good luck message also showed you were wrong to doubt him. Neil showed up. He was in the audience, watching you excel at the role and perform like never before. That thought alone made you smile.

You got as far as changing into the black dress, perfect for both the celebratory banquet after the premiere and whatever else the night would have in store before the commotion at the door to the dressing room made you pause taking off the stage makeup. You looked up just in time to see Carol, the costume assistant, call your name from the doorway:

“You’ve got company, sweetie” the smirk present on her face was unnerving, almost making the horror drown out the joy you felt at that one sentence, “A handsome boy asked Derek about you,” she added, the smile only widening, highlighting the conclusion you would have easily reached yourself by now.

As you felt the eyes of half a dozen girls turn in your direction, you knew you had fucked it. Inviting Neil backstage felt like a good idea until this moment. Until the reminder that you were not going to be alone. Not with the eager, bright gazes of corps du ballet following your every move like a little clan of hyenas. Swallowing past the frown, you let the used makeup wipe fall onto the dressing table as you stood up. In haste, almost knocking over the stool.

“I was waiting for him, actually” you crossed the space, hiding the sudden nerves with an over-confident grin.

For whatever reason, the shyness had returned. It sped up the beat of your heart as you waited for Carol to turn towards the corridor she came from and fetch Neil. Ignoring the desire to leap into the hallway like an idiot, you rooted your feet in the floor and stared down. Right until you heard Carol come back. This time, she was not alone. You leaned out the doorway, your gaze finding Neil with ease. He stood out among the crowd of dancers, dressed in a dark grey suit with a burgundy tie. It was impossible not to let your jaw hang open as your eyes took him in. The expensive suit jacket fitted perfectly. Beneath, you could make out the matching vest as if a two-piece wasn’t enough.

Annoyed by the lack of flaws to pick out, your gaze flicked up to his face. Just in time to see the familiar smirk telling you all you needed to know about where Neil was. But there was no time to dwell on it.

“You’re in luck, Sir” you could see curiosity in Carol’s gaze as she patted Neil’s arm and threw you a look that promised serious questioning next time. Which would be tomorrow. Fuck “I’ll leave you two to it” throwing you a goddamn wink, she turned away and started walking back down the corridor.

“Thanks, Carol” your gratitude got half choked up by the wave of annoyance, but you smothered it to ashes and turned to Neil with a shy smile, “Hi,”

It was nearly impossible not to be dazed by his beauty, even after only two days apart. His blue eyes looked back at you with enough affection to make you quiver. The hard lights of the backstage caught the gold in his hair, making it look almost ablaze. You blinked against the striking picture, but the brief respite did nothing. Neil still looked too good to be true. Which was why you knew that the moment the girls saw him, all hell would unleash. You steeled your spine against the assault and gently steered him towards the room you had just left. He went willingly.

“Hello” at a moment unknown to you, Neil has placed his arm around your shoulder. He went as far as coupling the greeting with a brief squeeze of your bicep before the touch disappeared, and he came to a standstill next to you, “There’s a lot of staring happening right now,” the remark was whispered, yet it roared in the pin-drop silence of the dressing room.

It took no genius on your side to understand what Neil meant even before you raised your head and faced six equally shocked faces of the ballerinas in various stages of grief.

“I know, I’m sorry,” aware that acting on the desire to hold his hand would only backfire, you glared at the girls with a warning, “They can’t behave” you hoped it would convey enough annoyance to make them snap out of it.

Whatever it even was. Because they had seen the men (and women) you have been with. They knew your shtick. And yet.

“Not our fault you haven’t told us you’re going to have a handsome fellow over” Jemima, the only one not to break the stare under your glare, raised her eyebrow in an accusation.

She was always the feisty one. It was a characteristic you admired in her just as much as you disdained it. Especially now, with Neil’s awkwardness coming off in waves and your sudden desire to disappear growing stronger by the minute.

“Would that change anything?” you countered her allegation with a cold question.

Or, at least, you sure hoped your cool was still intact. The reasons for the embarrassment and shyness were impossible to understand. Not without internal analysis you did not want nor could undergo with the audience present. The soul-searching had to wait. Indefinitely.

“Only that we’d bother you about him earlier,” especially now when no remorse was to be found from the girls.

Rolling your eyes skywards, you muttered:

“Figures,” a sigh had to do as a preamble as you risked taking hold of his hand and squeezing it quickly, “This is Neil, guys. Be nice” one glance at Neil, at the silent panic, was enough to make you add “And stop staring” when he squeezed back, you briefly felt victorious.

Very briefly.

“Easier said than done, babe” Jemima shot you an overconfident wink and took those two paces to walk up to Neil. Her dark eyes piercing and inquisitive “Has anyone told you that you’re stunning, Neil?” she studied him, gaze treading the path over his features that you were overly familiar with.

A strange stab of insecurity at the centre of your heart threw you off the kilter. That was… strange. Unprecedented. Unacceptable.

“Once or twice,” Neil’s reply was the necessary anchor to bring you back from the depths of worrying thoughts.

As was the growing horror on his face. You had to step in. 

“Jesus Ch-” choking past the litany of curses, you used the hold over his hand to drag Neil to your dressing table. You could still feel their stares but hoped they would get the hint, “You actually came” unable to keep the wonder out of your voice, you allowed yourself to look at Neil for the first time since the mess started.

He seemed more relaxed now that you have gotten rid of the onlookers. In his gaze, you could only see conviction, as if you never should have doubted him. And you didn’t! Just… needed to see it to believe it. Or something along those lines.

“Of course. These are for you” only now you noticed the bouquet of roses as Neil held it out to you with a smile. Yet it was difficult to pay attention to the flowers when he continued, “You were incredible, Cupid. Blew them all away. Just like I knew you would,” you could feel your cheeks heat up at the attention and the praise.

It was one thing to feel it but another to have someone lay it upon you. Especially Neil.

Neil, with his bright blue eyes and beautiful smile, that always felt like a benediction of sorts.

“Thanks” gingerly, you put down the bouquet on the dressing table and offered him a shy smile, “It’s still sinking in, but I think it was good. It certainly felt good” the promise to elaborate on your feelings was there; implied, and ready for Neil to take on. He did it with an understanding nod, allowing you to switch the topic with minimal clumsiness, “Anyways, I’m just going to finish here, and then I should show up at this banquet thingy upstairs for fifteen minutes, and I’m done” your restless hands played out their choreography, gesturing towards your half wiped off stage makeup and the hair that desperately needed an out from the tight bun.

You hoped the gestures would compensate for the awkwardness you could still feel. For the doubts that kept springing back up like freshly sown flowers in a fertile ground. Except that they didn’t.

“Sounds good” now that you were back at the table, you could see Neil in the mirror reflection.

He nodded, seemingly at ease with the situation and the scenario you had just painted for him. But-

“Unless you’ve got plans and I’ve just-” your anxious voice jumped into action when you let down your guard, voicing all that would not shut up inside your head.

Because you have never talked about his plans. You have never discussed the technicalities of what would be happening after the premiere. Not really. For all you knew, Neil might have just stopped by to say goodbye.

Before you could spiral further, you felt a careful touch at the nape of your neck. Gentle fingers brushing the tender skin and bringing out the shivers. You raised your head to see Neil looking back at you with a soft smile on his face:

“I’m only yours tonight” his hand skimmed lower, ghostly touch brushing over the shoulder blade.

It was gone before you blinked. But the sensation stayed, making you push the uncertainties to the back of your head and lock them away. For now, they were irrelevant.

The flowers, the suit, the photo – it all seemed like maybe tonight you could get what you really wanted. And what you wanted-

“Is that a promise?” picking up the fresh cotton bud, you bated your eyelashes at Neil.

Hoping (praying) he would ignore the crisis that unfolded before his eyes seconds before.

“We’ll see” Neil only smirked as he leaned against the wall closest to your dressing table and crossed his arms over his chest.

All yours, apparently.

***

It turned out that the key to getting more attention when entering the banquet at the Royal Opera House was to have Neil by your side. You could feel the gazes of fellow dancers and their plus ones follow you as you breezed through the hall, rushing towards the table filled with champagne flutes. You did not need to glance behind to know Neil was following you like a shadow. Once a pair of glasses was secured, you turned to him with a victorious smile and wordlessly motioned towards one of the high tables by the wall. It looked like the perfect place to linger until the speeches had been said and toasts raised. After that, you were good to go.

Once that first incomprehensible crisis was over, and you continued with the dressing table tasks, with the addition of Neil’s presence and comments, the strange anxiety has almost dispersed. Its place was taken by the anticipation of what would happen next. It was reflected in Neil’s gaze, the bright blue eyes watching with something akin to enchantment. Almost as if he could not and did not want to look away. It felt empowering in ways you could barely understand.

Now, as you set down both glasses and leaned on the table with a smile, Neil was ready. He mirrored your relaxed pose with ease. The tips of his black oxfords touched your shoes.

“Are you sure I’m allowed to be here?” the question was brought forward with a nervous chuckle and a cursory look around the room.

You could see the remains of restless energy in his movements. How his gaze skimmed through the crowd, searching for reasons why he did not belong. You knew the feeling too well. Tapping your shoe against his to capture the attention, you shot Neil a reassuring smile:

“Perfectly sure. You fit right in” without letting yourself think about it, you shuffled around the high table to stand right next to Neil.

Your shoulders were touching. When you turned to face him, you were struck breathless at the proximity. Up this close, Neil’s eyes felt boundless.

“Is that- Are you just complimenting me?” the baffled pout of his was something else to wonder at.

Something else to ignore if you did not want to make a spectacle in the middle of the banquet hall. Which you didn’t.

Instead, you focused on the disbelief you could see in his eyes, that familiar shade of shyness and insecurity telling you that despite his inherent coolness, Neil was anything but. Nudging your hip against his, you leaned in close:

“I’m also saying that you look very hot right now” your tone dropped to the seductive timbre that, while unnecessary, had a history of making Neil blush.

It was not different this time. You looked up in time to see the pink hue tint on his cheeks as Neil swallowed hard. He glanced at your mouth, clearly weighing the options like you just did. He must have come to the same conclusion, for he looked up again, nervous tongue swiping over the dry lips. Making you itch for a hit.

“How very?” he asked, quietly enough that you had to invade his personal space to hear the question.

Once you got that close, you did not want to increase the distance again. So, you stayed, eyes peering into Neil’s as you rested your chin on his shoulder and whispered the reply into his ear:

“Very” the curious stares of fellow banqueters hardly mattered as you pressed your hand to his suit lapel, “The suit was a top-notch choice. And now that I know what you look like without that shirt… Yeah, very hot” you waited until Neil was brave enough to face you to shoot him a wink.

By now, the picture was burned onto your eyelids. Yet, without a doubt, the photo never held a candle to the real thing. You were sure the hunger for it was clear as day on your face as Neil studied it for a long moment. That same thoughtful look in his eyes always made you feel half a step closer to insanity. Because it was impossible to tell what he thought then.

Remembering your daring gesture, you raised your hand from where it stayed pressed to his chest and folded your palms on the tabletop. For good measure, you took half a step away from him as well. Just so you did not tempt fate. A quick gulp from the champagne flute was also in order.

“So, I take it you liked the photo?” the innocence of Neil’s question made it clear that you were not allowed to let go of the conversation yet.

Not that you minded it. This sort of chat offered an easy space to share all that plagued your mind and soul, consensually and without a dose of awkwardness. Because he asked. And if he asked, then he was bound to know. Slowly, you turned your face again to look at Neil. He was one step ahead, the blue gaze already boring into yours. The hard edge of it softened by a cheeky smile.

“Oh, I did. I just wish you’d sent it earlier when I would have had time to process it in peace” aware that the words would do their job, you returned Neil’s smirk and took another swig from the glass.

If only so that you had something to do until he reacted to your confession. Your eyes scouted the horizon, taking note of the arriving dancers and the ballet directory gathering by the platform. It was not long now before the official part began.

It wasn’t long till you could leave.

“Process it how, exactly?” when your gaze returned to Neil, you found him just as expected.

Blue eyes wide, the magnificent jaw hanging open as his brain evidently pushed at him numerous versions of what your answer could imply. That would explain the dark blush creeping over his cheeks. And, for a beat, you considered it. Considered showing your cards and telling him exactly how he made you feel daily.

But where would be fun with that?

“Ladies don’t disclose their secrets,” you mimicked locking your lips shut with a key and rose on your toes to press a quick peck to Neil’s cheek.

When you leaned back again, he nodded:

“Noted” you could see the questions multiply in his gaze, but Neil seemingly pushed them all back, for when he spoke again, that topic was over, “What do you want to do after this?”

That was a question you needed no time to answer.

“A walk around Soho sounds nice” by now, your post-performance walks were a tradition.

A chance to breathe and decompress after the rollercoaster of preparations followed by the ballet. A chance to remind yourself that it was real. That you were real. Although, usually, you were alone, the concept of having Neil as a companion did not seem off-putting.

Quite the contrary.

“Got you,” his reply offered a chance to breathe out and relax by a fraction.

You shot Neil a grateful smile just as the commotion by the stage caught your attention. It was finally starting.

“Great, now shush” on its own accord, your hand found his on the tabletop and squeezed it once.

When Neil returned the squeeze, you grinned and buried the smile in the champagne glass.

***

The chilly autumn air cooled your cheeks as you adjusted the scarf around your neck, turned the corner of Long Acre Street and glanced at Neil. On the horizon, you could just about make out the Seven Dials pillar, marking the gateway into Soho. Although it was well past 11 pm, you knew that the streets would be full of people. With each step, the tension of the evening melted away, now only anchored by the tiredness set deep in your bones. You would still need a long sleep and a relaxing Saturday to manage tomorrow’s performance. But that, like most things, had to wait.

For now, all that mattered were the golden reflections in Neil’s hair and the tune he hummed as he matched your leisurely pace. Whatever would happen after the walk was very much undecided, so you made sure to banish the uncertainties to the back of your head and focus on the present. For the first time since leaving the opera house, you broke the comfortable silence:

“So… Be honest and tell me what you thought” that infuriating hesitation in your voice was hard to get rid of.

It tinted the sentence with unease and worry, making it abundantly clear that despite your attempts at nonchalance, you were everything but. Worst of all, you knew Neil would pick up on it instantly, too. He was good at reading you like that.

Lost in your head again, you never noticed you had been wringing your hands until you felt his touch, gently stopping the anxious gestures. Your head shot up just in time to see the small smile grace his lips as Neil looked away again and replied:

“I meant what I said earlier. You were incredible. And although my knowledge of ballet comes from Black Swan almost exclusively… Yeah, so fucking cool, Cupid” his eyes were full of admiration you could hear in the praise.

It made your cheeks heat up as the wave of bashfulness threatened to overtake any other part of your being. You swallowed hard against it, briefly tracing the cracks in the pavement to buy some time. Soon, you did what you always do.

“Well, I sure wish there was more gay sex with Mila Kunis at work” Neil’s loud laughter at your attempt at a joke made you grin despite the sudden shyness, “But thank you. As much as I was terrified, it’s all kind of disappeared before I came on for my bit. And then I just tried to do the best I could” shrugging, you allowed yourself a moment to relish in the rare feeling of pride.

That did not happen often. And when compliments came, they hardly held any substance to them. Unlike this, where you could tell Neil meant and believed what he said. The surge of affection was hard to deny, even if you tried to bury it beneath a shrug and a noncommittal smile. It burned through your chest like an ember. It was only a matter of time before it would catch fire.

“You were stellar. I couldn’t look away from you” mindless of your crisis, Neil kept speaking, “Not for a moment” once you made the mistake of turning to glance at him, the softness of his gaze felt like a trigger you did not know you had been waiting for.

Stopping in the middle of the pavement was the easiest part. You reached out towards Neil and grabbed his hand, making him stop as well. The surprise on his face was evident as he closed the space between you and asked:

“Everything alright?” the genuine worry was all but a metaphorical nail to the coffin.

It softened the edges of your raging soul and made you take the decisive step to cup his face between your palms and press your mouth to his. Somewhere between one heartbeat and the next, Neil pulled you closer with his hands on your waist, instantly returning the kiss with equal ferocity. You could imagine the picture you painted to the outside souls. The all-consuming desire was written in every gesture and move. The inability to separate until you had to. The easy conclusions anyone would draw at the sight of you.

The conclusions which at any other time would terrify you.

But none of that mattered when you broke the kiss with the taste of Neil’s gasp on your tongue and caught his dreamy gaze. The long eyelashes fluttered as he slowly came to. The pink cheeks and glossy lips were something you could never quite get over. So, instead of surrendering to the foolish wants and stupid desires, you whispered the only other thing that made sense:

“Thank you” sliding your hand down the length of his arm to entangle your fingers together, you offered Neil a smile.

Grinning, he tugged at your joined hands to resume the walk. With the background of Wonderwall playing inside the pub you passed, he spoke:

“My pleasure. Now I expect to be given tickets to every premiere” the cockiness in his tone was a welcomed change.

It helped to close the door on the inconvenient softness and put your focus back on what mattered. Like the support and friendship of someone who seemed genuinely interested in you. That, too, was out of the ordinary for the relationships with men you wanted to fuck.

Not to be crude or anything.

“I’ll think about it,” you quipped, mind already venturing onto the prospects, mulling over what could happen after ‘Don Quixote’. Not without anxiety, “Next there’s this tiny, teeny off-chance they cast me in The Nutcracker… and that’s a really big deal” even saying the words you had thought of before was enough to make your heart rate speed up.

Because that was a possibility. An idea bolstered by the whispers among the girls and the ballet repertoire announced at the beginning of the winter season. But as much as it was possible, you did not dare hope. Not after the disappointments of the past.

“Like crippling anxiety kinda big deal?” as always, Neil had struck the goldmine without trying.

His talent at seeing through your bullshit and all that you tried to leave unsaid was terrifying. Hardly anyone was capable of that. And historically, those that did were most likely to become someone you could not get rid of. Not even if you tried. That, like many things, was a reason to push against the alarms in your head and offer Neil a grin so bright it looked plastic fake.

“Precisely that,” you nodded, mindlessly synching your pace to Neil’s and raising your head to look around the streets.

The warm streetlights cast a cosy glow around the alleys and shop windows, occasionally replaced with a neon or two, ablaze in the night. A million different songs could be heard from the windows and doorways of the pubs and clubs you passed. The chaos of the area was almost peaceful to you in its disarray. The beautiful mess that had no place in your daily world, in the carefully styled ballet buns and perfectly positioned pointe shoes. It was the antithesis of everything you lived and breathed, yet somehow more true to your nature than order could ever be.

The wonder must have shown on your face, for Neil broke the silence with a question:

“Why Soho?” the curiosity was impossible to ignore.

But when so often it would spark your annoyance and inspire the inherent desire to remain a mystery to all but yourself, here and now, it was almost welcomed. Because it came from someone who gave a fuck.

“Because it makes me feel the most at home, I guess. It’s like life can be shit and awful, but as soon as I get here and lose myself between those streets, nothing matters anymore” the weight of the words hung between you as your finger caressed the back of Neil’s hand, unconsciously drawing patterns. Only when the heaviness and sincerity began to feel too stifling, you added, “It must be that unique appeal of queerness, bondage and flashy lights. All at once” as if on a cue, you looked to the right to see one of the many sex shops scattered across Soho.

A classy, black leather harness lured the interested parties from the shop window. A giggle arose in your throat and spilt outward, tinting the night with a new shade of unforgettability. The feeling increased when you turned to see Neil’s grin:

“Must be” the joy in his face blinded you to everything else.

The comfortable silence stretched as you walked around Soho Square. Within the dimly lit park, you could make out the statue of King Charles II. That late at night, the iron gates were closed, leaving you to trace the perimeter of the square. The red brick tower of St Patrick’s watchfully traced your steps as you passed through the common and continued down one of many busy streets.

The wistful silence felt inspiring in ways you could hardly explain. Before you knew what you were doing, the question was out of your mouth:

“Can I ask you another inappropriate question?” at this point, the opener was a tradition.

It always got a smile out of Neil, so you did not consider ditching it.

“Shoot,” he squeezed your hand and peeked inside the pub you passed.

This one’s choice of music was not any less predictable. With the sounds of Mr Brightside, you asked:

“What are you most afraid of?” the origin of a question was hard to trace.

You only knew that it had been waiting for the right moment for quite a while. Perhaps it was because you barely had anyone else to talk about things like these that most people would rather stay unsaid. Perhaps it was that you were tired of ignoring the complex subjects and shutting the door on the uncomfortable.

Perhaps it was just that you wanted to know Neil better.

“Damn, that’s inappropriate indeed,” his low whistle told you even that sort of question was not too close for comfort.

You were yet to find the limit, which was both an exciting prospect and a terrifying concept.

“You know me,” you shrugged, hoping that gesture alone would help you ignore the implications of the sentence.

Yet the look Neil shot you as you risked a glance at him rendered the attempt useless.

“I do know you” the simple confirmation felt like a punch to the face, but you had no time to react. Neil followed the thought with the answer you had asked for, “Okay… It used to be something like being forgotten or not achieving my dreams, but now, I think it’s just that I’m scared of waking up one day and realising that I’ve nothing to live for. It’s that fear of failure, combined with the real chance of no one ever loving me for who I am” each of his words felt like that pinprick of pain in the molecules of your existence. As did the tiredness in his voice, almost emotionless except for the resignation you were well familiar with. It was the same tone of someone so used to the reality of their situation that it hardly made them feel anything anymore. It was a tone you knew well, “Fuck, that sounds depressing” sighing upon the conclusion, Neil slowed down your pace to look at the display of an indie boutique.

You knew that tactic. Understood that it was just a part of the ploy to shift the subject away from his troubles. But, in the light of all he said, you could not stay silent. You stepped close enough to show your intent in the movement and said what you knew was obvious:

“I think people would be stupid not to love you” despite your history with love, you knew that much.

If love existed, Neil was more than worth the pain of it. And anyone who was blind to it was not worth him.

Slowly, he turned to face you. The impassive face let you know that this time Neil would not be willing to get into the polemics over something he did not believe in. Instead, you got a neutral smile and a tender touch, brushing the stray lock of hair behind your ear:

“I wish, sweetheart” the mournful edge to his smile felt unsettling in a way you desperately wanted to ignore. As if sensing your discomfort, he quickly transformed it into a sardonic grin, “There’s also the fear of the world ending, but that’s just millennial quirks, I guess” before you could react to the mood shift, the invisible mic was extended towards you “Anyway, your turn,”

While you always knew that opening this topic would mean you would also have to bear your soul to Neil, the moment it came, you found yourself struggling for words. The truths were there, but they did not want to be released into the night like this. Without a promise that nothing would change after.

Wordlessly, you extended your hand to Neil and waited for him to take it before resuming the walk. It took you another two or three minutes of silence to start speaking:

“It was always the fear of growing old. And I don’t mean like a teenager shaking at the prospect of being thirty someday. I mean me right now, scared out of my mind for the day I realise I’m old. Because there’s no future for ballerinas past forty, if even that” once the words came, it was hard to stop them. They flowed, empowered by years of awful thoughts you could not permanently get rid of and the paralysing knowledge that they were correct. That this was the future awaiting you, “And I know that for all my talk of not needing other people for anything else than a good time, it’s going to bite me in the ass. When that youth fades, I’ll be a below-average woman who doesn’t have anything to offer” the conclusions came upon a weary sigh, with the burdens not at all lessened but only voiced.

For the first time ever, possibly.

The warmth of Neil’s hand in yours was a spark of comfort, urging you to let go of the thoughts and keep walking. You knew that if you stopped, there would be nothing to pick up from the pieces you would become.

“I don’t think you’re below average” although you did not dare look at him, you could feel Neil’s gaze on you.

Those knowing blue eyes wandered over your features like a tender touch you never deemed yourself worthy of. Although seemingly nonconsequential, his protest was not something you could brush over. It reverberated in your head until you felt like you had to shake it out with another pointless shrug:

“The point still stands, though” unsurprisingly, it was the shame that followed, forcing you to look his way and whisper a needed apology, “Anyway, I’m so sorry I asked that. I don’t know what overcame me,”

The most accurate guess would be the demons of hell or your lack of self-preservation.

“It’s okay. I want to know you more, and what better way to do that than through questions you’d ask at a sleepover in Year 9,” the judgement was not present on Neil’s face as he offered you a hand squeeze and a bright smile.

It almost looked like he was back to normal, having put the strange conversation behind you. You sure hoped that was the case.

“True” returning his smile with a degree of hesitation, you took the phone from your pocket to check the time. It was late, almost midnight, and you still had to get home. That sobering thought helped you decide the best course of events, “Should we get on the tube at Oxford Circus? We could then change at Baker Street,”

To deny that you hoped you would not get off at St. John’s Wood alone would be to lie, so you stayed quiet. The idea was slowly simmering in your mind, hoping to come to fruition through luck or the powers that be.

“Sounds good” Neil nodded, already picking up the pace to lead you towards the mentioned station. After a beat, he asked, “Cupid?”

“Hmm?” too occupied with your thoughts, you only made a noncommittal noise.

“You’re worth more than you know” that fondness in his voice was old news by now.

Yet it still punched the air out of your guts, like always. It still made you swallow hard against the inconvenient revelations and focus on what mattered the most.

Which, in this case, was to get Neil to come home with you. Easy.

***

It was impossible to tell which one was the deciding moment. When the course had been set, except that sometime between getting on the Bakerloo at the Oxford Circus and St. John’s Wood, the dice had been cast. Metaphorically, that is.

Somewhere between Baker Street and your station, with your lips formed into an almost permanent smile, you turned to Neil. Noticing the creases around his beautiful eyes and the fond grin on his face, you chanced an invitation that had been rattling around your brain for hours and days:

“Do you want to come to mine for a glass of wine?” miraculously, the tremors did appear in your voice.

As soon as Neil registered the question, you could see something in his eyes shift. Without a doubt, he understood where it was going. Or where you hoped it would go. He glanced at your mouth, almost as if on an unconscious instinct. Your hand resting in his loose hold on your lap twitched, making him tighten the grasp. The silenced stretched, thick, and substantial in the empty carriage. Empty save for the two of you.

It felt like aeons later when Neil finally met your gaze again and offered you a lazy smile.

“I’d love to,” that wolfish glint in his eyes told you he knew what you had been thinking.

It also assured you that this, like many things, was something you shared.

That awareness did nothing to eliminate the giddiness set in your bones, which only grew in strength as you led Neil through the streets of St. John’s towards the outskirts of Maida Vale. Once you arrived at your apartment and somehow opened the door without dropping your keys (a feat indeed), that giddy feeling transformed into nervousness coursing in your veins. It stayed as you opened the door, letting Neil through and following behind him. It was always a strange feeling to let someone else into your world, into that private space, so separate from the grandness of ROH. Unconsciously, you always expected critique or worse – ridicule.

But none came as you walked past Neil in the hallway and took off your shoes with caution. His eyes roamed over the walls and the furniture with interest, taking in every feature with curiosity. Trying the hardest to discard the awkwardness, you walked down the hall towards the living room and the kitchen, knowing he would follow. It was once you had welcomed Neil into the living space that you could no longer maintain the suffocating silence:

“I know it’s not Buckingham Palace, but…” gesturing weakly towards the room at large, you shot him a tight smile.

It was almost as if Neil going off the script and not being a judgmental guest threw you off to the point where you had trouble acting normally. It must have been visible in your body language, for he grinned and replied:

“No, it’s cosy” another broad look around the living room must have satisfied him as Neil took off his coat and scarf and draped them over the highchair by the breakfast bar, “Fits you,” meeting your gaze, he winked.

Instant warmth spread over your body, replacing the uncertainty with something different. Something dangerous.

“Whatever that means” returning his grin, you stalked into the kitchen and threw open the cupboard doors with a simple question, “Red or white wine?”

Settling the two wine glasses on the countertop, you turned to Neil. Only to find him browsing the bookshelves lining your walls between the windows.

“Red. Thanks” he put down the book he had been inspecting and turned to gaze through the windows down the street below, glancing your way in between.

Procuring the bottle of semi-dry Primitivo from the shelf, you recovered the corkscrew from one of the messy drawers. Only when that was done, and the wine could breathe a little (impressing the snobbish people on TV), you turned back to Neil. He was still perusing the bookcase, clearly doing his best to accommodate your strange shyness. Lucky for him, the worst had passed.

“You can have a look around. Just you know, don’t peek into my bedside drawers or go through my underwear” when Neil glanced at you with a scandalous gasp, hand clutching at his chest, you smirked.

That was familiar. Safe. A trustworthy dynamic to settle upon when looking for pointers for whatever would come next.

“As if I would,” the affronted look on his face made you giggle as Neil finished the living room tour and joined you in the kitchen, “Though now my curiosity has piqued. What do you keep in the bedside drawer?”

Sure, you could give him the answer he so desperately sought. But that would’ve been too easy.

“Maybe one day you’ll see” shrugging off his advances, you winked, hoping it would show how much you meant it.

Admittedly, if everything went how you wanted it to, you hoped that vague one day would come. For some reason, when staring at his broad back as Neil picked up your invitation and walked down the hall towards the bedroom, you knew he could never disappoint you. Not in that way. Somehow, it felt like once you crossed that line, which was constantly getting closer, it would be impossible to go back. And in a good way, too. In a way that would make you want to keep going back, again and again. Neil already was like a special kind of drug for you. Nothing could change that.

When he completed the self-guided tour, you were waiting on the sofa with a carefully chosen soundtrack running in the background and two glasses of red wine. As always, it was not difficult to keep the conversations running, ranging from topics such as how you became a ballerina to how the fuck did Neil manage to make his hair look so goddamn soft all the time.

For the sake of the argument you tried to make, you shifted across the cushions closer to Neil and buried your fingers in his dirty-blonde tresses. It did not escape your attention that as soon as you started intently combing through the strands and lightly pulling at them Neil closed his eyes with a telling exhale. Or that his body tensed, betraying wants and needs he probably tried to keep secret. Willing to spare him some shame (for now), you focused on the silkiness of his locks, staring as the colour reflected the warm lighting of the room.

“I seriously need tips on conditioners” with reluctance, you let go after something close to a minute and leaned back.

Just a fraction. Now that you had lessened the distance, you did not want to leave his side again. Without even trying to be exceptionally smooth, you lounged towards your old spot to move the wine glass and settled back against the cushions. The warmth of his body radiated across the minimal space. Some time ago, probably midway through the second glass, Neil has ditched the suit jacket. The vest underneath only did his body more favours, making it impossible for you to stop staring for most of the evening.

“Will do,” Neil nodded, seemingly having recovered his composure. He took another swig from the glass and regarded you with curiosity in his eyes, “Does that do it for you?”

You did not need to ask for clarification. Not with the way you had always seemed particularly fixated on his hair. Or how your hands always betrayed you when you kissed, taking every opportunity to touch them again. With that sort of transparency, you might as well embrace it.

“Definitely” offering him a shameless smile, you picked up the wine glass to down the remains.

That pleasant alcoholic buzz in your head smoothed out the edges of your vision and drowned out the remaining anxiety. Until all you could feel was warmth and contentment.

Only sometime later, after discussing the intricacies of your home lives growing up and the likelihood of you meeting Neil’s work friends (and getting along with them), the mood began to shift. It was hard to tell at first, smoothly falling into your usual dynamic. It was that sudden desire to lean your head over his shoulder and Neil’s inexplicable tendency to touch your knee with every other gesture during a particularly complex story.

One of those was just ending, with Neil describing in detail that one time as a teenager when he accidentally dyed his hair seaweed green when that uninvited voice inside your head would not keep quiet any longer.

“Can I tell you something?” blurting out the question was the easiest part, although its placement at the end of his story was clumsy.

The abruptness made Neil start, his hand hovering right over your thigh twitched. The blue eyes met yours with curiosity shining through.

“Always,” the dusting of pink along his cheekbones confirmed that you were not the only one feeling the effects of that bottle of Primitivo, now empty on the coffee table.

“I’m so glad you came tonight. And that you stayed, too” the earnestness in your voice was something you did not want to get rid of.

It strengthened the sentiment, showing that you meant it more than anything. Although the gratitude was there from the moment Neil stepped into the dressing room, it only increased with every passing hour. Because as he sat there, listening to your bullshit, one understanding came to the forefront of your mind. Something obvious, yet not at all. No one has ever taken their time like this. No one at all.

“Of course, I’ve told you I had fun. I’m beginning to see how incredible it is what you guys do on the stage” the sparks in his eyes drew you in like a moth to a flame as Neil added, “All of those years of practice and perfect technique. I could never” the admiration was another fatal blow to the remains of your composure.

It shone through his words, making it abundantly clear that Neil meant what he said, too. The fuzziness in your head got stronger the moment you tried to comprehend it. Shaking it off with a shrug, you shifted in the seat and leaned away from him enough so you could breathe. Or, at least, get an illusion of clarity back.

“Well, it is tough, I won’t lie” as always, your mouth kept on running before you could get a hold of your tongue, spilling all the facts and observations you had kept to yourself, “But that’s the thing. You came, and you actually watched, and now you’re here, listening to me waffle on about ballet and pointe shoes and all that bullshit, when you could just… I don’t know, leave?” the groan of frustration tore at your vocal cords as you finished the rant on a particularly bitter note “Or you could do what everyone else had when I dared invite them to one of my shows,”

Even the memory of it stung, making you drop your gaze to the drying burgundy spot on the table. In all your naivety, you hoped that would be it. That another topic would come up and make you forget about it.

But Neil had other plans. Not that you blamed him for it.

“Which is?” his question was the epitome of carefulness, with even the tone of his voice doing everything in his might not to startle you and make you clam up amidst the rare moment of extreme sincerity.

It when then and there that you decided Neil was worth a little discomfort.

“Spend the ballet on their phone, tune me out afterwards and only wait as far as coming here or going to theirs to ask me to be a good girl and suck them off” rolling your eyes against the reminder, your fingers restlessly picked at the loose thread in the hem of your dress. The ghost of that familiar dissatisfaction burned through your system almost as if it had just happened, “Because apparently I’m such a turn-on in those tights it’s impossible to pay attention” the attempt at an impression of that compliment never quite landed because of the venom in your voice.

The warmth of Neil’s hand enveloped yours as he stopped your anxious fiddling. You risked looking back up at him and instantly were struck by the heat in his gaze. It sparked something buried beneath the annoyance and incomprehensible feelings. Something you should have never ignored.

“It’s definitely a turn-on, but so is this” unaware of your ongoing spiral, Neil’s hand slid to your knee and squeezed it, “Hearing you talk about things that matter to you” the heat from his touch seeped through your skin, emphasizing the growing derealisation.

Because how could this be real? How could he be real? Neil, with his beautiful blue eyes and the ability to say the right thing when you needed it most. The breath hitched in your throat as you swallowed hard and channelled the storm inside your soul into words:

“Not according to most men” if asked about it later, you knew you would barely recollect what you said, having surrendered into the inherent ability to bullshit your way into everything ever, “And then they never even try to make me feel good. Well, they do, but not… selflessly” you could tell Neil caught the meaning with the way his eyes widened “When after every show I do all I want is for someone to take care of me” you did not get much time to wallow in the misery.

Not with the way Neil took approximately ten seconds to decide before his gaze turned back to you with breath-taking focus. His palm moved inward from your knee to slide between your thighs. The warmth of it encircled your leg as he leaned in close, nosing at your pulse point without a shadow of hesitation. Your abrupt gasp rang in the sudden silence, legs already parting to let him in without the conscious thought taking part in the action.

All the thoughts you could have had perished from your head as Neil pressed a kiss to the side of your neck and whispered against your skin:

“Like this?” the tenderness of his touch was overwhelming in the best of ways.

It took over your senses as he hitched up your dress and continued the slow journey up your thighs to the space between your legs. You could feel the arousal seeping into your underwear, making the material cling to your skin. It would be so easy to let him do whatever he wanted. Only-

“Yeah, but- Do you want to?” the breathlessness of your voice was bound to be an embarrassing memory.

But only once you had recovered the sanity, which was nowhere to be found. Still, you had to ask. There was no question about what you wanted. Not with the need coursing in your veins, begging you to stop fretting and just let go. Begging you to act like you always did.

But Neil was not like anyone you had ever been with. And that meant you cared. Too much, probably.

Leaning back far enough to meet your gaze, Neil tipped your chin so you were forced to look at him and smiled. The hungry determination was still there, only now interlaced with subtle reassurance. For your sake.

“Oh, trust me, I want to” without giving you time to reply, he kissed you quickly and stood up from the sofa, dropping to his knees before you without a word of warning, “I’ve been thinking about this for weeks” that devilish grin tugged at your insides as tilted his head, silently asking for permission.

Permission to change your relationship forever. You took a deep breath, already aware of the mess between your thighs and the insanity in your eyes.

You nodded, saving the voice for later.

Somehow, you knew soon enough you’d need it. Neil grinned like Lucifer himself. You were certainly fucked.

[writingintheshadowsforever]

Imagine being a Guardian and returning to Wakanda after hearing of T'Challa's death

After the battle of Thanos was over everyone had their own way of dealing with the grief of not only losing friends, but dealing with the loss of five years. You decided you needed to major change in scenery and asked to join the Guardians of the Galaxy in space. Your country wasn't happy with your decision. The Council even proposed that T'Challa order you to stay in Wakanda to prevent you from leaving. While you didn't wear the mantle of Black Panther your ability to manipulate solar energy made you one of the country's greatest protectors.

The elders always believed that Bast herself bestowed with your powers, so they weren’t too keen on the idea of you leaving and going somewhere. Where you would essentially be unreachable, but T'Challa refused to force you to stay. If you really wanted to go after all he was going through the motions as well. You promised to return if Wakanda ever truly needed you again. Shuri wouldn't have a problem reaching you in space, but she wasn't happy with your choice either.

You and her had been best friends since the day your powers surfaced. You were fifteen and had been feeling weird the whole day. Not knowing what was wrong and too afraid to go to a real doctor. You went to Shuri to get her to run a few tests to see what was wrong. Your body was running at a really high temperature which she found to be scary considering. A temperature that high would usually indicated a deadly disease of some kind. In her eyes you shouldn't even be able to stand right now, but trying to lower your temper was not only impossible. But it seemed to actually make you sick, and when she tested her theory of putting you back in the sunlight. That's when the truth was revealed as your body started to glow. She was the first person to know about your abilities and kept your secret in the beginning.

Losing five years of her life was a slap in the face, and made her realize just how fragile time was. When the dust on the battlefield cleared and Thanos was dead. After the funeral for Tony Stark was over. She wanted nothing more than sometime alone with you to confess her feelings. But when the chance finally presented itself you took both of her hands in yours, and pulled her in close. As usual she was the first one you gave the big news too, and it broke her heart. The fact that you were choosing to leave instead of figuring everything out in with her in Wakanda.

It didn't matter if your why actually made sense. It was simple really Thanos and his army opened your eyes on just how many threats. They were out there in the world that Wakanda knew absolutely nothing about. If someone this powerful was to ever show up again you wanted to prepared, and be able to warn your country. T'Challa used that argument to convince the elders to back his decision to let you leave telling them. It would be more beneficial to have a warrior in space looking out for potential threats.

Peter and the Guardians held off on departing a little longer to give you time to say goodbye. But that didn't make it any less heartbreaking when the day did come. You were waiting outside in the field behind the palace for one more familiar face to come. The team your new allies were waiting for you in the ship. Peter and Thor were arguing about what would be the first destination. For a second you didn't think she was going to come, but finally Shuri arrived.

"I thought you forgot about me for a second" You said holding out your arms for a hug. She threw herself into them with so much force, you stumbled back catching her. Her arms were wrapped your neck in a death grip. Your arms constricted around the waist as you buried your face into her shoulder. "I know I'm going to miss you too."

"Please don't go" she whispered into your ear.

Your heart clenched in your chest at the pain in her voice when she made the plea. You wanted to tell her exactly what she wanted to hear. That you had changed your mind and was going to stay for her, but then all of the images of your home being invaded. By a foreign enemy from space flashed through your mind. You shook your head pulling back to look her in the eyes. "I want to I really do Shuri" You whsipered back.

"Then stay" she repeated bringing her hands around to cup your face. "Stay with me"

You pressed your forehead to hers closing your eyes as a single tear escaped. "I can't I have to go."

Shuri let out a breathy gasp fighting the urge to breakdown into tears. There was an internal battle going on inside her head right now on rather or not. She should tell you how she really felt all it would take was three little words, but what if it didn't change anything. Plus was it really fair of her too try and keep you here like this. If you really wanted to go then she had to let you go. "I'm going to miss you" she told you instead.

"I know I'm going to miss you too Princess." You replied leaning forward just enough for your lips to graze her slightly. It was a glimpse of what could be if you choose to stay. Shuri felt it and almost closed the distance, but you pulled away.

You left.

Two Years Later

The message came through while you and the Guardians were in the middle of chasing some alien criminal. He was the ring leader of some pretty nasty space bandits. The Nova Corps asked the Guardians to take the mission about two days ago, and for the first time in months. Peter put the search for Gamora on hold for something else.

The alien was hiding out on a foreign planet with a high trading market. Someone must have tipped him off about your guy's arrival because the second he was already on the move. As the team descended on his hideout You spotted him making a run for it first and gave chase raising your head to shoot a blast of fire into the sky. Alerting the rest of the Guardians of your location, so they could catch up. Although it wasn't like you needed the help, by the time they caught up.

You had taken the criminal down and wrapped in a cocoon of solar energy. He was squirming as much as he could complaining about the heat. Drax reached down to pick him up but pulled his hands back screaming in pain from the intense heat of the energy. You let out a sigh shaking your head, and reshaped the energy. So it was only binding his hands behind his back. "Thank you sun warrior" He said as he threw the thing over his shoulder.

Peter caught you by the hand making you pause as the rest of team headed back to the ship. You turned to him with a smile that fell from your face at the grim look on his.

"Pete what's wrong?" You asked with a tone of confusion and worry mixed into one.

"Y/N I gotta take you home" he said with his eyes pointed at the ground.

Your stomach dropped at the dreadful tone in his voice. This was Peter Quill your goofball of a leader who was always playing music, and challenging you to dance battles. This was Peter Quill who was ecstatic to have someone else from Earth join him in space, and would understand all his references. This is a guy who jumped up and down in excitement like a little kid on Christmas, when you revealed the DVD copy of Footloose and the 2011 remake. You had brought onto the ship for him to watch. Whatever had him looking like this had to be bad. The only time his mood was down was when he reminisced about his past relationship with Gamora.

"What happened?"

"We've been out of range from Earth for a while now so it took the messages longer to come through-" He started

"What did the messages say" You demanded cutting him off.

"Your king T'Challa somehow he was sick and-"

Fear gripped you as you knew T'Challa didn't get sick. He couldn't get sick it was practically impossibe with the power of the heart-shaped herb. He was the Black Panther and the Black Panther didn't fall ill ever. You didn't even let him finish as you grasped his hand tugging him in the direction of the ship. "What are we waiting for Peter let's go" you said urgently.

Peter stood his ground tightening his grip on your hand when you looked back at him. He took the opportunity to wrap his other arm around your waist and pull you to his chest. With his lips to your ear Peter gave you the rest of the news. "That was the message from about two weeks ago. It came in at the same time as the new one from a couple of days ago."

Your knees started shaking as you anticipated what was going to be the next thing to leave his mouth. Still when the words left his mouth your brain truly couldn't comprehend it.

"T'Challa is gone y/n he passed away maybe a day ago. It's hard to know for sure when the message was sent out" Peter was saying. While you heard every single word none of it was really getting through to you. After he mentioned your king was gone your brain shutdown on you. Peter held you up when your legs gave away, and lifted you into his arms. You buried your face into his shoulder muffling the gut-wrenching sobs leaving your body.

Peter put everything else on hold to get you back home as soon as possible. He didn't even take the time to drop the prisoner off to the Corps stating. They could wait a little longer after taking one quick glance at you resting on the bench on your side. Thor sat at the bottom by your feet rubbing your leg. If there was anyone who knew what you were going through. It was him as he had been through almost the exact same thing. Left his home behind in order to protect from a massive threat only to return and discover not only was it in shambles, but his father was gone.

It took a day to reach Earth and when y'all landed in Wakanda it was nightfall. Peter sent on out a message prior letting Shuri know the Guardians were on their way. He assumed someone would be waiting for you, but there was no escort waiting for you in the field.

"Lady y/n allow me to walk you off" Thor said

"Its okay Thor I can take care of myself from here thank you for everything. That goes to all of you if you ev-"

Peter held up a hand to cut you off. "You don't have to say that y/n it was a honor having you on the Guardians of the Galaxy. Don't worry about us we'll be fine just take care of yourself right now."

You gave him a nod and with that set off for the palace your bag slung over your shoulder. The second you stepped off the ship and onto the ground of Wakanda. An overwhelming feeling of grief hit you worse than when Peter gave you the news. T'Challa wasn't waiting for you on the inside of the palace with his heartwarming smile. The Dora Milaje spotted the ship when it landed and had already notified the Queen, so when you climbed the steps. You saw Queen Ramonda and Shuri were at the entrance waiting flanked by Okoye and Ayo.

You managed to make it all the way to them before the emotions hit, and your knees dropped. You fell over onto your hands at the feet of your Queen with tears falling from your eyes. "I'm sorry your highness I should've been here. Please please please" you kept repeating your plea over and over. As you broke down all over again.

"My child on your feet" Queen Romanda ordered softly.

You shook your head as the crying intensified. It was Okoye who crouched down to your level placing a comforting hand on your cheek. You lifted your head to look at her but her face was blinded by your tears. "Your queen said on your feet solider" she repeated. You listened this time pushing yourself up.

Queen Romanda took a step forward and pulled you into her arms. Her embrace easing some of the pain in your chest, but only added onto the guilt you were feeling. "You are home now y/n that is all that matters. You can now truly mourn him."

The Queen held off on his funeral for as long as she could in order to give you time to return. But unfortunately you were just a day off and had missed the funeral. When morning came you still couldn't sleep and found yourself wandering around the palace. Every inch of this place brought a memory back of your time with T'Challa who the big brother. You never had when your powers became too much for Shuri too help you with. He was the first person she went to, and he took you under his wing training you in how to control them. Eventually the palace became home to you as well, and there would be times where you even dine with the royal family.

When you came upon the throne room and pushed the doors open. You were surprised to see Shuri on the other side standing in front of the windows staring off into the city. Her eyes barely glanced in your direction when you walked up and came to a stop beside her. She could your eyes boring into her.

"How long before you leave us again?" She finally asked.

"I don't know I think my place is here for the time being" You answered.

"Your place was always with us you should've never left." Shuri snapped turning her body around to face you.

"Shuri please you know why I had-" You tried to defend yourself.

"I don't care I loved you and needed you to be here with me, but you left me still" She cried. "Then I lost my brother and sent out dozens of messages begging for you to come home. I needed you y/n here when he got sick. I needed you here when he died, and you weren't here."

"I'm here now" You said bringing a hand to caress her cheek.

"What does it matter when I know you're just going to leave me again." Shuri demanded knocking your hand away.

"I won't I'll stay this time" You swore.

Shuri shook her head and backed away from you. She ran a hand through her curls with a hurt in her eyes. "Why didn't you stay before? Why wasn't my love enough to keep you here."

You didn't have an answer for that.

Shuri turned and walked away without another word.

You didn't follow.

[wishing-stones]

you said ren started getting along okay with error sometimes, how does everyone else react to him?

He tolerates Ren. They aren't terrible for a human.

As for everyone else...

Killer drives him nuts. They've gone to considerable blows before and Error has hurt him just as badly as Killer hurt him. Mostly, Killer likes to needle him, and Error's short temper seems to be a point of amusement. They don't get along, but he won't attack on sight. Killer himself thinks Error is fun to play with, and if there's a chance to push buttons, well.... he's really good at that.

Dust makes him uneasy, but since he's so chill... he's less of an issue. Dust is only really a problem when he's actively being dangerous, in which case, Error avoids him to the best of his capabilities. He's found out that 'tie him up and put him somewhere' is a viable strategy here. Dust doesn't mind him overly, but if he's an obstacle, he gets treated as such.

Axe is concerning half the time. Error feels like the larger skeleton looks through him. No matter how angry or antagonistic Error is, Axe seems to handle him well enough. He'll defend himself, of course, but if there's no actual danger, Axe just waits him out. Error hates that, but... it also makes him a little more tolerable to be around if there's no fight happening. Axe doesn't mind him terribly as long as he's not being an active mennace.

Cross is on-sight. These two hate each other, and Cross is not keen on giving Error the chance to try to finish what he started. Cross treats him with 'strike before stricken' and Error... is very reactive. If there's no active conflict, they're likely still glaring daggers at one another and watching the other's movements for a chance to strike if it's there. They can begrudgingly occupy the same space sometimes.

Baggs thinks Error is interesting. He'd like to come to understand the specific code-corruption that lead to Error becoming who he is. There's loads of questions he has that he'd like answered, and Error is very disinclined to let him close enough to figure that out. Baggs unsettles him. He's fully aware of everyone's capabilities (he watches just about everything) and the doc is no exception. He's gotten tied up and put in a corner on several different occasions. It doesn't seem to bother Baggs any, and he's patient-- he's sure he'll get a closer, safer study eventually.

Nightmare deals with him on commission only. He's tried several times to get Error under his thumb, and none of his efforts have succeeded. Error would rather flip him the bird and walk backwards into the anti-void than do what Nightmare wants without compensation. That being said, he can be bought, and doesn't object to running transactional favors every now and again. Nightmare... has given up waiting him out. Maybe some day he'll get tired of the anti-void and come seeing better accommodations, but Nightmare won't hold his breath.

[beelaboola]

authors note: hiiii hellooo, i wrote a thing for my crp oc, esme !! it isnt exactly in her pov but the story is formatted like a blog ask (think of reddit or something) so this is in a pov of a user that encountered her :3

this isnt fully proofread (or thought out well for that matter) so i apologize if my writing sounds confusing :(( word count: 1.3k

A user asked: What was the scariest experience you’ve had?

I can’t seem to get my mind off of the events that happened that one night back at the campsite. Trying to look back, it’s very foggy, to say the least, considering that it has been about a year since the incident; however, I’ll do my best to explain what happened.

A year ago, prior to summer break, my friends and I had planned to hang out at the campsite around the outskirts of our town overnight. Do note that our town is quite small and isolated, surrounded by trees. Our town is known for its forests and rivers, so we thought it would be a good getaway thing to do right after the semester (we are college students) and get away from everything. Looking back, this was a huge mistake. A friend of mine decided that we should invite the rest of our class to the camp. I was hesitant, considering that I’m not too open to hanging around with people I’m barely familiar with. However, because the rest of my group seemed okay with the idea, I had no choice but to agree with it, despite my gut feeling. On the day of the hangout, we had packed everything that we needed for the camp: tents, toiletries, food, and the like. We created a group chat that included the people who planned to attend, just for updates and such; nothing too big.

We finally arrived at the campsite; it wasn’t too far from where I lived, just about a 15-20 minute drive. I parked my car in the remaining parking space available. The campsite was littered with our classmates; probably about 20 of them attended. My girlfriend suggested that I try to mingle with the others; though I wasn’t too keen on it, I didn’t want to push it. I walked over to the group of my classmates hanging around by the tents they’d set up; they were welcoming, luckily. I spoke with them for about half an hour, though there was a person in the group that caught my eye.

This girl seemed reserved, I thought. I saw her around the campus regularly for my criminology classes. She had always kept the left side of her face covered by her hair, though I never questioned why. I always thought it was a fashion trend among the girls. I did hear rumors circulating that she was bullied or something, since there was a period where she suddenly stopped attending classes for a good few months. Some say something happened during the sleepover she had at her friends’ place during winter break, but I’m not entirely sure. She was kind of weird, but pretty nice, from what I had gathered.

The rest of the day we just fucked around, as normal for young adults, and did some activities that we could do at the campsite and whatnot. We gathered around the campfire by dusk; we told those cheesy, scary campfire stories while we made smores. As we listened to their stories, one of my friends stood up to tell theirs; let’s call him Mark. Mark assured us that this was indeed a real story, to which I scoffed, thinking that he was just kidding around. He tells us about how we have this serial killer going around in our town lately, which might’ve explained why there have been disappearances lately. He wasn’t wrong, though. There had been an abundance of missing person posters scattered around town; the person who targeted them seemed to target women the most, though men weren’t off the table. A shiver went down my spine when he told the story. 

He mentioned how police officers were able to find a whole body on the scene, but their faces were missing. That was what set me off. The very thought of a person sick enough to take their victim’s face and just simply leave them there to bleed out made my stomach churn. My girlfriend stood up to tell Mark off, saying that he was scaring the group. We all collectively decided to call it a night as we retreated to our respective tents. I tossed and turned in my sleep, my mind was still stuck on what Mark had said hours prior. During this time, I felt the pit in my stomach grow. You would probably think that I was a bit of a pussy for reacting like this, but I swear, I was justified in it. My girlfriend had left the tent to use the outhouse nearby, telling me that she would be back.

Hours had passed and I still wasn’t able to sleep. I started to grow worried for my girlfriend as it had been about an hour or two since she left. Silence consumed me until I heard her voice, “Love! Can you help me out?” coming from a distance. My girlfriend’s voice. At the time I thought how strange it was for her to call me out that late of a night, what she needed my help for. However, I didn’t think much of it. I stepped out of my tent, my eyes wandering around the camp. From what I can remember, it was dark and quiet. I heard her voice once more to which I followed the source of the sound. It took me a few minutes until I realized how deep into the forest I was in. 

At that time, my mind kept screaming at me to leave the forest immediately. That was when I stepped on something. I looked down and my god, it took everything in me not to scream. It was a body, skinned off of its face. The body was unrecognizable but I knew that it was her, my girlfriend. I recognized those clothes. “Babe! Where are you?” I heard in the distance, to which my fight or flight response triggered. I thought fast and hid behind a boulder, footsteps followed along. That wasn’t my girlfriend, she isn’t alive, I thought to myself. So why the hell could I hear her voice? I wish I never did but I took a peek over the boulder and a cold shiver went down my spine. The person wore a navy blue ushanka with ski goggles and a mask adorned, so I wasn’t able to identify who it was.

From what I can recall, the only defining feature of this person was that they had a burn scar on the side of their face. All I knew at the time was that they had mimicked my girlfriend's voice. The person held a skinner knife, assuming that they also killed her. “Where are you, Nick?” they spoke. I wanted to vomit, I needed to do something. I grabbed a rock and quickly threw it in their direction, which successfully distracted them. I bolted out of the area and didn’t stop until I was sure I was in the clear. They started to chase after me, and I had to scream. My screaming made the killer steer away from my direction, and people at the camp got out of the tent to see what was going on. At that point, I was out of breath. My classmates and friends asked me what was wrong, however I couldn’t form the words for it and passed out.

That was it, I couldn’t remember anything else after that. I woke up in a hospital and tried to explain what happened back in the forest. My friends thought I had gone crazy, however, the details I gave were very similar to the case that the police had been looking into so they conducted an investigation at the campsite. A year later I still think about this incident to this day, I wonder what could have happened if I hadn’t run out of the forest as soon as I could.. I don't think they have caught her yet.

[mir-iamwilde]

Got A Funny Little Feeling || DAMIDGE

TAGGING: @dannyssylvester @mir-iamwilde

LOCATION: The Spare Room.

TIMEFRAME: 10/16, Morning.

WARNINGS: a little nsfw - not really.

NOTES: Midge realizes she's confusing Danny, they have a little talk about feelings.

Midge Wilde The day before had been a lot for Midge, but she was surprised by the way wanted to be spending her time with Danny while here. Yet, since earlier Danny had seemed…off. She wanted to give him space but an entire night felt like more than enough. She made her way over to him, a cup of coffee in each hand, “I’m not sure how you take it,” she offered, holding one mug out to him as she sat down, “But I figure shitty coffee is shitty coffee whether it has cream and sugar or not.” 

Danny SylvesterDanny was just so confused. He and Midge had a good relationship so far, okay yeah they'd only been on one date but they'd hit it off and he was keen for them to start up some sort of regular hook up thing. And he thought she felt the same. But yesterday when he was trying to make her feel better, she just seemed so closed off and pushed him away. So now he wasn't sure what was going on. He saw Midge approach him and he sighed, but took the coffee anyway. "Thanks." And he took a little sip. "Good sleep?"

Midge Wilde“I mean, I slept in a sleeping bag on the floor of a dive bar,” she said letting out a small trying to lighten the mood. “So yeah, it was great. What about you!” She had tried not to take seeing him sigh personally, but it was hard to get out of her own head. Midge sat silently for a minute, sipping her coffee before finally getting the nerve to ask, “Did I piss you off or something?”

Danny Sylvester"Oh first time?" He joked back, but his smile was small. Then he shook his head. "I gave up on sleep the first night honestly." They sat there in an awkward silence, drinking their coffees before she spoke up again. "No." Danny replied, a little shrug. "You haven't pissed me off."

Midge Wilde“I think so!” She teased back, but it seemed to fall flat. “I’m sure you’ll sleep better once you’re back in your own bed.” Midge really didn’t know what to think, or to say. She felt incredibly self conscious wondering if she’d somehow managed to chase him off, when truly all she’d wanted was to keep him interested. “Okay.” She nodded, staring into her coffee, “I guess, I can leave you alone if you want? You don’t really seem like you’re in the mood for me,” she said, fighting like hell to keep the sadness out of her voice but it was there despite her best efforts.

Danny SylvesterHe just nodded along, staring down at the coffee just laying in his mug, a bitter taste in his mouth from it. When Midge said she was going to leave, he whipped his head around to look at her, and seeing her sad expression he laid his hand on her arm. "No wait, I'm sorry." And Danny twisted his body around to look at her better. "I just... Why have you been pushing me away? I'm just trying to help."

Midge WildeShe didn’t know why she felt so relieved that Danny wanted her to stay there, feeling his hand on her arm created goosebumps. Midge tilted her head at his question, trying to understand what he meant, and letting out a sigh at the realization. “I’m not trying to push you away, I’m…” she trailed off, wanting to find the right words, “You are helping,” she finally said, bringing her own hand to rest on top of his, “It’s just that we just met before all of this and I don’t know what it is but I feel like I just want to tell you every stupid thought that comes into my head, and I want to fuck you all the time.” Midge bit her lip, “I feel like if I do both of those things I’m going to chase you away, and I’m just going to be the weird girl that kept you entertained during lockdown.” She was never really this vulnerable, not with anyone, and half expected Danny to get up and walk away laughing. “I don’t want to just never hear from you again, you talk about hanging out and watching movies, and wearing matching costumes and I don’t want to ruin that.”

Danny SylvesterDanny wasn't the best with feelings, or girls with feelings, but he wanted to understand what was wrong with Midge and how he could help. So he was glad when she started to talk to him. When she talked about sleeping with him, he smirked, she was still interested. "You're not going to chase me away Midge. I know we're in a shitty situation right now, but once things are back to normal I'm not planning on ditching you." Danny's smile was soft now and he shifted a little closer. "I like you, you're cool. Not many girls are like you. So I thought we could be friends and do all that shit and fuck all the time as well." And he dipped his head a little. "I thought maybe I'd scared you off or something."

Midge WildeMidge nodded at his reassurance, hoping he meant what he was saying, or that he wouldn’t change his mind when this was over. When he dipped his head, she felt a wave of guilt, and couldn’t stop herself from leaning forward to press a kiss to the top of his head, “I’m sorry I made you feel that way.” She said, her voice barely a whisper. “For what it’s worth, you don’t scare me at all. It’s just easy to get naked, you know? But talking about something real isn’t, not for me.”

Danny SylvesterThe kiss made him smile and he looked back up at her. "It's okay, I'm just not used to this." He admitted. "I'm not exactly a great guy and people don't really like me so it's hard for me to do stuff like this." Danny's smile turned into a grin now. "Yeah I get that. I'd rather get naked than talk about feelings and shit. But we're kind of limited here." And he reached up and brushed some hair behind her ear. "It is killing me to not be able to get naked with you though."

Midge WildeMidge shook her head at his words, “You seem pretty great to me,” she said softly, “The not great guys don’t usually follow you to make sure you’re okay, or tell you that there’s more to you than sex, or worry about why you’re pushing them away.” Midge leaned her head into his hand when he touched her, “Well, we could try to find somewhere private, or we just keep letting this thing build, imagine all the anticipation.”

Danny SylvesterHe just shrugged, he wasn't going to get into all the bad stuff right now, that could wait for another time. "I just care about you, that's all. Even though we've only just met and been on one date." Danny smiled and stroked her cheek gently. "Hey that's up to you, I'm not going to force you to do anything you don't want to do." Then he moved his hand away and his lips replaced it, brushing a soft kiss to her cheek.

Midge WildeMidge smiled, a blush growing on her cheeks when he said he cared about her, “Well, ditto.” When he kissed her cheek she turned her head to catch his lips with her own, taking in the bitter taste of the coffee on them. “I want to,” she whispered, pulling away just enough that her forehead was resting against his, “I don’t want to wait, I want you, I just might need you to keep a hand over my mouth so I don’t end up screaming.”

Danny SylvesterAs she turned to meet him in a kiss, he eagerly kissed her back. The grin on his face when the pulled away was big, and he slowly moved his hand to rest on her thigh. "Good. Because I don't want to wait either." And Danny kissed her again. "I'd love to hear you scream, but I know the others wouldn't." He thought to himself for a moment and looked around. "The perk of working here is I know where all the keys are. Want to do it in one of the VIP rooms?"

Midge Wilde"I have the feeling you'll get to hear it plenty of times in the future." She smiled, nodding at his question. "You go get the keys, I'll go grab us a bottle of something and we can meet there in 5 minutes?"

Danny SylvesterHe went back in for one more kiss, the taste of her lips already addicting to him, and he nodded. "Sounds perfect. I'll see you there."

[capncassas]

Private Bath | Ivar x You

• word count–2461

• Ivar the Boneless x You

• Mentions: Period talk, soft!Ivar, SFW. (It’s my lady time of the month and honestly, I’d like some chocolate and an Ivar sized heating pad, pretty please.)

• If you would like to be added to my Ivar taglist, feel free to let me know. Please do not repost my writing anywhere else – reblogs, comments, likes are all appreciated.

"Slave!"

Ivar snapped.

He was perched on his throne. The great hall was empty, mid-day and everyone who would have filled this space was about conducting business as usual. Preparation for a new raid was underway. Ivar seemed almost impossibly irritated by the slow progress. He was ready to be away from Kattegat.

"Yes, my King."

You learned a long time ago, after you were brought to this place, before Ivar was called king to be proactive when he was in one of his moods. He could merely be contemplating murdering you instead of outright planning it, so best to stay on his good side. Whichever side that was at the time?

"Why are you so slow today?" Ivar drug the words out in an exhausted manner, as if merely watching you go about your usual business was boring him. Perhaps next he'd ask you to perform some mundane task while walking on your hands and using your feet to play some instrument for his amusement.

"I am sorry my King, I do not mean to be slow, I- I will do my best to be more... expedient in my chores."

Another sharp pain from your abdomen made you press the heel of your hand into the lower portion of your belly. You were colder today than any other say so far this fortnight, thus you'd piled on another layer and a shawl despite that winter had not come in full swing to Kattegat.

Ivar wasn't wrong about his watching. You'd been lingering closer to the fire. And anything you could bring closer to the fire you did - from there your chores were being done. Rarely, Ivar noticed what you were doing. He wasn't unkind, in his own way - but he never let you forget what you were. A slave. It meant little to you. It was all you knew.

"Bring me more mead than. This has a taste of stale horse piss."

He tapped the pitcher with his finger.

Ivar, for whatever reason, with his words, almost always made you smile or laugh, though you tried to hide it. He had a - colorful - way with his words and you did not always know when he was being serious or if he was joking. You didn't openly laugh - the last thing you had wanted for was Ivar to think you were laughing at him.

"I will be happy to, my King."

You gathered your skirts, pulling them up so not to trip on them as you climbed the dais to retrieve the offending item and get it out of his sight.

When you lifted the full pitcher, your stomach cramped, but what you took notice of was Ivar's hand caressing the slight swell of your belly. You were always a little extra. Where other ladies were thin or knobby and the shield maidens seemed as muscular as the Viking men, you were soft in their hard places and round in the shoulders with plump little arms and legs. Some men had been keen to call you 'stocky'. Your hips always seemed to swell outward to meet the heavy base of your thighs. They resembled flesh made tree trunks. Or at least that was how you saw them. And your belly, it pouched in a manner that was most unpleasant to you.

You'd have made a dairy farmer a fine wife. That was what your mother said when you were twelve and she sold you to the slavers. A work horse, best used in hard labor.

"So warm."

Ivar had most peculiar eyes, so blue they could make the deepest ocean jealous. There was an old tale that said Ivar's eyes became even bluer when he was in danger. You supposed since they were still calm and had not turned stormy today, he wasn't in danger of a sneak attack.

His broad hand flattened over your middle, palming the soft roll of your belly.

He contemplated you a second longer before he withdrew his hand and waved you off. "Go on then."

You turned and moved faster than you had all day.

The casks of mead had been depleted the night before. Events in the great hall were plentiful. It always seemed that your king had a desperate yearning to be seen as anything other than what he was perceived to be. A cripple. You had seen cripples before in your life. Often men but there had been a few women - those pitiful creatures had been thrown to the dogs, but the men somehow made themselves busy. They couldn't even use a crutch as Ivar did, or drag themselves around. They lacked the upper body strength. You didn't see Ivar as incapable or cripple but perhaps deep down that was the drive, the means of his motivation. He would always see himself as the crippled boy.

Hurrying with your task, you replaced all the casks of mead from the night before and hammered in their taps before finding a fresh pitcher and filled it. You even found a clean cup. It wouldn't matter much if the mead was fresh if it was being poured into a tainted cup. The matter took more time than you realized as you hurried back but Ivar was not where you'd left him.

Concerned that this spelled trouble for you, you got busy, ignoring the limitations you wanted to yield to. How would you ever believe you could be like a shield maiden, regardless that you were a slave, if you never pushed yourself? Deep inside a small voice begged you to at least try. You fluffed the pillows and furs on Ivar's throne and cleaned away any unsightly debris that could make his foul mood of the day worse.

"What took you so long?"

Ivar stood, leaning on his crutch. Demanding.

His appearance had changed.

The braids in his hair were loosened until his shoulder length hair touched his shoulders and he'd removed his shirt.

You'd seen men shirtless before, but Ivar. You glanced and then quickly looked away, directing your gaze more purposefully on what you were doing as your cheeks flushed.

The many intricate tattoos that slipped from his back and over his shoulder onto his chest were beautiful. Markings of his voyages and the many battles he'd won. Because of his particular disability, it gave him a certain edge.

"I...I'm sorry my King. I should have hurried."

Ivar wouldn't be interested in an excuse so you didn't bother offering him one.

"Were you just dragging your feet and hugging your belly, or is there a reason you took so long?"

His crutch thumped on the scarred hardwood as he came closer.

His height was always something that surprised you when you entered his presence and he chose to stand. Even leaning on his crutch his height was noted. The top of your head reached just below his shoulder.

"No. I wasn't."

You trembled slightly. How could he stand so comfortably in this chill? The temperature further from the fires seemed to bother him very little while his crutch thumped closer and you could feel the heat of his chest close to your shoulder and that side of your body.

"Then what were you doing, slave? Answer me."

You opened your lips to speak -

"Look at me."

Your eyes snapped to his.

Ivar had moved so close that you almost stumbled back but his hand, one not holding his crutch grabbed your hip and steadied you, if that, he pulled you even closer. Until your abdomen pressed against the groin covered laces of his trousers.

"I did as you asked. I ...went to get a fresh pitcher of mead but the casks from last night hadn't been replaced yet so, I replaced them and then, I wanted to get you a clean cup because it...seemed like a fruitless effort to bring fresh mead and not a fresh cup too."

As you spoke, your arms curled up against your chest, fingers tangling in the loose hair and braids of hair that fell around your shoulders and breasts. A protective instinct.

His brow pulled down, inspecting your face, for what felt like forever he was holding you, seemingly taking you apart with his eyes.

"Are you afraid of me?"

Blinking, you didn't know how to answer him. Was his question a joke? It seemed like everyone both loved and feared Ivar. Mostly feared but no one considered a revolt, the mere notion seemed to hazardous an endeavor. And if you killed one son of Ragnar, there were four others to take his place - sullen as they may appear at times toward their brother, familial bonds would assure vengeance.

"I...don't like it when you're angry with me, but...I don't think what I feel is fear."

"Then what is it you do feel?"

You swallowed, feeling tired against the warmth his body gave. If you could close your eyes a moment, just to clear the fog in your mind but he was waiting for an answer.

"I don't know." You said dumbly.

Dumb as it may be, it was the only appropriate answer you could give him. You didn't like it when Ivar was angry with you because it turned sullen and dejected. His eyes would darken and his brow would crease as if something was giving him great mental pain. When he was in a more jovial mood, his eyes sparkled, his whole face light up with something akin to real joy. He was capable of great conversation; he had ideas, things you'd heard no one else speak of and when he was like this, you enjoyed lingering closer to listen.

"I want a bath. Come on."

Ivar gripped your hip a little more roughly before pulling you beneath his arm, using your shoulders to brace himself against your body. You had to wrap your arm around his back, the other around him so that your hand rested on his upper abdomen as he walked back to his private chambers.

Another slave was pouring a heavy bucket of steaming water into a tub in the corner, but she didn't look at Ivar or you. She poured the water and left through another door as if she'd never been there.

Ivar moved to the side of the tub, settling on it as he picked and pulled at the rawhide laces of his trousers.

"Pull them off my legs."

Gulping, you removed his shoes and gripped the ends of his pant legs as he pushed them down his hips. His cock was impressive. You knew it was. Others talked. Sometimes he ordered his slaves to stay when he entered the tub. To wash him, his hair. He enjoyed being touched, but the events usually ended with Ivar shouting at them to leave him and then pulling himself from the tub and dragging himself to his bed before shouting for mead.

They talked about rumors they heard but couldn't be confirmed though they made their own assumptions about their King.

The poor crippled King who would likely never marry and never have children.

His cock didn't work. You likely reasoned that the rumors came from his brothers. That because of his legs, he couldn't satisfy a woman with his cock. You knew nothing, but it didn't seem to make sense. What did his legs have to do with his ability to make love?

You stripped his legs, his thighs seemed to be well muscled, calves as well. It was not an issue of muscle, but the bone itself. That's why they called him Boneless.

"Come here." Ivar said, holding his arm out to hold on to your waist as he turned, placing one leg and then the other into the tub. You didn't offer to help, that wasn't what he asked you. He could do it himself and he released a sigh as he sunk into the heated waters depths.

"Take your clothes off."

Inhaling slowly, you shook your head.

"I can't."

Ivar's lips curled at the corners. The same leer you'd seen directed at others stared directly back at you.

"You've all your limbs, hands, fingers, toes. Of course, you can. Take them off."

You pressed your lips together, pinching them between your teeth.

"My King I'm -"

"Bleeding? I know. Take off your clothes, then get into the bath. If you aren't afraid of me, this shouldn't be an issue."

He knew?

Air whistles through your teeth as you took your shawl off, tugging at the lacings of your dress, letting it slid down your shoulders and pool at your feet. Save for the menstruation belt at your waist and covering you, you were naked. Vikings did not bother with angst of their bodies, but this was your King. And you hesitated before your fingers picked at the soft wrapped straps that clung to your hips before you slipped out of the belt and inhaled quickly.

You moved in such a way that you were not quick, but you weren't slow, either. Stepping into the tub, Ivar moved his legs.

"Right here, sit so your back is against my chest."

You swallowed, turning your back to him before lowering yourself into the water. Almost as soon as you stretched your legs out and eased back, Ivar's hands were rested on your abdomen, almost massaging as the heat from the water eased the cramping and tension from your back and legs. The pain in your abdomen eased, and you felt relaxed.

Ivar's chin eased to your shoulder as you watched his hands on your stomach beneath the water.

"The heat has always helped me when I was in pain, its not possible to stay like this - but... if you need this from time to time, you don't need to hide it or endure it always."

You thought for a moment, nodding gently. The free women didn't use the communal baths when they had their blood. They didn't hide it but they bathed in their homes - you didn't have a home, so going to the communal baths wasn't optional and you stayed clean as well as you could. At least no one had ever mentioned you needed a bath.

"I apologize if... perhaps my smell was offensive. I clean, as well as I can, during this time." You admitted as much, though you felt him shaking his head.

"You weren't."

"Thank you."

You murmured under a breath, cautioning yourself, though the act happened just as easily as you held his hand.

It occurred to you, as suddenly as Ivar's moods could change - he understood pain. It was his oldest and closest friend. He enjoyed relieving pain just as much as inflicting it on those he deemed deserving of it.

[hitnran]

OBSESSIVE EX (gender neutral! reader)

how they deal with you having an obsessive ex

includes: ran, rindou

CW: obsessive behavior, cursing, stalking (ran), phone harassment (rindou), the haitani brothers lowkey kinda scary here (not to the reader) 💀 but i’m just trying to make it fit within their character

— RAN HAITANI

Getting into a relationship with someone like Ran, half of the charismatic brother duo that ruled Roppongi, almost means guaranteed safety wherever you go. His title itself is one that is feared when murmured. Whenever you two leave, he always has an eye and a hand on you. Ran knows well that even if he is feared, he can also be challenged and the last thing he wants is for you to get involved — you would make an easy target for his enemies.

You two were out together on a stroll around the city. Although there was nothing neither of you needed, Ran’s favorite thing is showing you off. Sometimes you start to feel similar to his younger brother, thinking that you’re just a shadow and only known as ‘Ran’s partner.’ But Ran’s intentions were opposite. He wanted everyone to know that it was him that belonged to you and it is him that people would have to deal with if you were ever tested.

As you two are walking, Ran noticed your eyes consistently checking itself to the side. He took note of that and eventually brushed it off since you stopped. But then he noticed that you were being especially keen and scanning the whole area.

“Are you okay, love?” Ran slightly hunches down, getting your attention as your face turns his way. He lightly smiles at you. “Did you see something you liked?”

You swallowed down hard. You could’ve sworn you saw a familiar face, but after trying to scan the area numerous times for the past few minutes, you thought it was just you being paranoid. The last thing you wanted was to worry Ran and cause a scene.

“I’m okay,” You shook your head, returning a light smile. You grabbed on his arm, this time a little tighter. “Let’s turn into this corner.”

Ran knows when you’re lying. He knew something made you uncomfortable, but he wasn’t going to force you to tell him. Instead, he’ll make it his own problem too and deal with it himself.

This area was his territory and everyone knew it. It was almost as if Roppongi, a city known for liveliness, calmed down ever so slightly if one or both of the brothers were out. Everyone’s gaze wound be kept low and their conversations would go mute as they walk by.

At that moment, Ran could feel a pair of eyes staring your way. He won’t make it obvious though.

“Love,” Ran called out to you. You looked up his direction and he placed a hand against your lower back. “Rindou’s gonna throw a fit if I don’t bring back food for him. How about you go into the restaurant and order first while I call him and ask what he wants?”

You felt at ease hearing that you two were finally going to be in somewhere indoors, but it made you nervous that he would be separated from you for just a little while.

“Don’t wanna bring something back he won’t like and have him complain,” Ran lightly laughed, trying to ease your clear discomfort. He placed a hand over your head. Taking out his phone to add to his act. “I’ll be quick.”

After some hesitation, you gave in. It was a public space after all, so it shouldn’t have been anything to worry too much about. He watched as you entered the place before turning around, sending chills to the person who had been following you two around this whole time.

“Would be a shame if I left them alone for too long, wouldn’t it?” Ran gave off a sinister grin, slowly walking towards the person. “Wouldn’t want anyone to take them away…especially someone like you.”

Ran knew who this person was. He was an obsessive ex of yours that just would not leave you alone and accept the separation despite it being years passed. He gulped hard, nervously stepping back, not thinking that he would get caught.

“You were so bold to even follow us in the first place, why so shy now?” Ran smirked, hiking up the sleeves of his sweatshirt. “This is the first time you’ve heard of me or something? I should introduce myself to you well and hard then.”

Almost ten minutes had passed since you’ve been waiting for Ran. You sat patiently and waited. Your best guess as to what’s taking him so long revolves around Rindou. Maybe he was complaining about how he wanted food from a different place or being picky about menu opinions. Just as you were about to raise yourself from your seat to check up on Ran, you saw him enter.

“Did I make you wait too long?” Ran appeared, seating himself in front of you. The worse case scenario you had in mind was that he got into a fight, but in front of you, he looked just as how you last saw him. “You know how Rindou is.”

Your chest became relaxed and you gave a small smile, shaking your head, “What did he want from here?”

“I didn’t even listen to what he said,” Ran teased, opening up his menu and leaning back against the chair. You felt his legs sandwich your calves from beneath the table. “He can order it himself. All my money is going to you today.”

And that was how Ran liked it. Although Ran wanted everyone to know that he belonged to you, he knew how important it was for others to know that you belonged to him too. The image of the face of your ex is burned so clearly into his brain — face all bloodied up, mauled almost, as he failed to even whisper for forgiveness.

“I think there’s only one way I’m gonna let you outta here alive,” Ran kicked his body down with force, hearing something shift in his jaw. He couldn’t give half a damn about it. “Do you know what that is?”

Your ex was visibly beaten and weak now, barely able to even blink or properly form a sentence. Though, with his adam’s apple slightly moving from fear, Ran took it as a response.

Grabbing him by his hair upward, Ran bent down, looking straight at him, “You’re gonna leave them alone and never show your goddamn face again. If it wasn’t fucked already before, it sure is now. I promise you I’ll know if you’re even barely visible or a mile away, I won’t hesitate to kill you.”

Ran thought it was so disgusting how someone like you could ever have your time wasted on someone low like this ex of yours. Even if Ran saw him and his brother above everyone else, he always put you above him.

“Maybe even after this, I’ll send one of my men to go and beat the shit out of you every day so you could suffer for as long as you’ve tried to bother Y/N.”

— RINDOU HAITANI

Rindou can’t even remember what it took for you two to even reach this state of your guys relationship. He convinced himself that it was Ran, his older brother who wouldn’t shut up about how he was going to take you if Rindou didn’t make a move.

It genuinely surprises himself even whenever he looks your way, observing every detail and soaking in the idea that you are someone he can call his.

You two were watching a movie, or rather, supposed to. Rindou was too focused on side-eyeing you every now and then. You caught him a few times, but he would brush it off with comments like “this movie is boring” or “I’m just checking to see if you fell asleep.”

He would snap himself out of a trance after hearing your phone ring beside you. You eyed it once, looking at the caller ID and ignoring it. It wasn’t enough to cause Rindou to worry - it’s not his problem if you just didn’t wanna answer a call, it was your guys’ time anyway.

But then it rang once more again. Your ringtone dragged itself out halfway through before Rindou slightly raised his hand from your hip, pointing to the phone on the side of the couch.

“You not gonna answer that?” He asked.

You shook your head, eyes focused on the TV, “It’s fine. It’s an unknown caller ID.”

Rindou shrugged, ignoring it once again, but after a few more calls and your phone receiving back to back text messages, it was starting to irk him. He was close to just grabbing your phone and answering the call himself, but you were quick to act before him, just shutting it off.

“It must be spam or something,” You sighed, sitting back down.

“Yeah, well whatever it is, good thing you shut that damn thing off. That shit was annoying,” Rindou sighed, curling his arms around you again. “Let’s change the movie too or something. This one is boring.”

One thing about dating Rindou is that he seems uninterested in absolutely everything he does. Although you avoid thinking like that when it comes to your relationship with him, you always remind yourself that Rindou is someone who deeply cares for you. He shows it very differently compared to others, but you know.

He can recall a memory from a few weeks ago where you kept getting calls in the middle of your guys’ date. It annoyed him, but not as much as it annoyed you. You’ve pressed the red decline button at least five times now, stressing over it and spilling out everything about your previous ex.

At the end of your rant, Rindou grabbed your phone, picking up the call and saying words as simple as “leave them alone.” It was so simple, but for the next few weeks, it was silent. You finally thought you were free of harassment thanks to your boyfriend, but recently, they’ve been coming back as unknown caller IDs and more frequent than before.

Halfway through the movie, Rindou felt your body become more loose and relaxed beneath him. Your breath became slower and more steady. You had fallen asleep. He thought it was ironic to have someone as angelic as you in the arms of someone like him - a gang member always involving himself in trouble, even just for fun.

He stared at your phone just a reach away and then back at you. The last thing Rindou wanted was for you to be uncomfortable, or really, anything that isn’t where you aren’t happy.

When you woke up, the TV was shut off and you felt a blanket drape over your body. You realized you had fallen asleep from earlier, but you were expecting to find your boyfriend with you as well. That was when the door swung open and you were greeted with Rindou.

“Rindou?” You slowly let out, still adjusting from waking up. “I didn’t know you left.”

He raised a bag up midway in the air, it’s a bag from a bakery you often bought from, “You kept murmuring about it in your sleep. Didn’t want you to wake up all grumpy.”

“I don’t wake up grumpy!” You protested, watching as he took his seat next to you and unpacking all of your favorites.

“Yeah, okay,” Rindou joked. He listened to you puffing out before wrapping yourself around his arm.

“Thank you though,” You murmured out of embarrassment - maybe he was half right.

“It’s nothing,” He replied, softening his face into a grin. “Must’ve been hungry though if it got you talking in your sleep and drooling on my arm.”

You didn’t even know about half of the things he does for you, but he didn’t mind it, because if you were happy, then that was all that mattered.

It made Rindou feel guilty to turn on your phone and look through it. It wasn’t something that he ever felt the need to do - he trusted you and it felt wrong if you weren’t aware that he was using it. Though, at this time, he felt like it was for the better.

While you were silently sleeping, he browsed through your texts. It’s that same person - your ex back again to bother you. Rindou scoffed, making sure it wasn’t loud enough to wake you up, but he was angry. He clicked his tongue whilst composing a message.

Rindou knew you would never be so stupid as to meet up with someone like this, especially not after already experiencing it once. It was a good thing that it was just Rindou posing as you though. How delighted your ex felt to have finally received a response to you - ‘Let’s meet up here.’

Rindou thought it was so pathetic. This guy had no idea what he looked like, let alone that you even had a boyfriend. So when Rindou’s immediate reaction upon seeing him was to throw a punch, he was shocked.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Your ex cried out, trying his best to dodge his attacks but failing in between his words and attempts.

“Me?!” Rindou snapped, pushing him to the ground and twisting his arms. “Speak for yourself.”

The man beneath him screamed in pain, “I-I’ll call the cops on you and have you arrested!”

“Yeah? You think they’ll give me less time if I tell them I was just trying to teach a creep a lesson?” Rindou pulled back on his arms a little harder, tendons and muscles stretching themselves out of place.

“T-The hell are you talking about?!” He stuttered out.

“Don’t bitch around. Might end yourself up in there if you keep this act of yours up - I’ve been once before,” Rindou smirked, pulling back more and more on his arms. “It was fine for me. My big bro and I even got some respect while in there, so what’s gonna happen when they hear about your name from me? You’re fresh meat to them.”

“W-Who even are you?!”

Rindou scoffed, “The same guy who warned you once to leave Y/N alone. I should’ve honestly went to find you myself personally and beat the shit out of you, but I hate wasting my time.”

Your boyfriend let the man go. If his arms weren’t all bent out of place and dislocated, he’d be crawling away by now. It was a sight that Rindou would laugh at. Upon seeing that his phone had fallen out of his pocket, the same phone used to consistently harass you, Rindou stomped down hard, breaking it into bits and pieces.

“Don’t waste my time again. Next time you do, call the cops, I promise you I won’t care if they catch me killing you,” Rindou turned his back around.