#this has been rattling around in my skull for like a week

[tarugai]

Guy who fell into the underground and guy with mommy issues that made it everyone’s problem.

[rueclfer]

Can I get a gentle reminder smau with Shigaraki? And maybe with a little excerpt of him checking in on us 👉🏻👈🏻 love your writing, but don’t feel inclined to do this request if you don’t want to :)

ily u r sweet yes u can get some of this soft n tender shiggy

gentle reminder // tomura shigaraki

“keep track of your shit.” tomura says once more, tossing your pill bottle onto your bed, right next to your figure hidden beneath the mass of blankets.

“you see a bottle of pills that looks kinda important, that you know i left in your room since last week and you don’t think to at least notify me?” you huff, peaking your head out.

“i dunno.” he shrugs. “you leave shit in my room at the time. think i have half your closet on my floor.” 

you tightly clench the fabric of the blanket up over your nose as heat spikes up to your ears.

tomura doesn’t need an invitation to make himself comfortable in your bed. you feel the shift of the mattress underneath you and hear the rattle of the pills as he shakes it in his hands.

“so this tiny ass pill” he lays on his back, one hand behind his head, the other holding up the small orange bottle to his eyes. “is the one thing that keeps you together?”

“unfortunately.” you sigh, pulling the blanket down under your chin. “can you pass me one?”

you watch him carefully shake out the small pale pill into the palm of his hand. he returns the stare as you swallow the pill dry, returning your head down onto your pillow.

“feel better?” he sets the bottle on the nightstand.

“no.” you laugh at the naivety. “gonna take a little to get used to them again.”

“what do you need then?” he blankly stares at you. “‘cause you can’t do this for another week.”

you two lock into a staring contest while you think for a moment. 

what do i need?

you feel like shit. you haven’t taken a proper shower in a few days. you haven’t really eaten anything. your throat is dry. this migraine is pounding its way out of your skull. this is the most you’ve spoken to someone in a week.

“maybe just stay here.”

it takes him by surprise- you see the shock in his eyes. 

sure you’ve messed around a bit (a lot), but you’ve never asked him for any sort of warmth and comfort. this is new territory for the both of you.

tomura fully turns on his side and inches a bit closer to you. he’s scared to touch you, so he just invades your bubble a little bit more than he usually would. your breaths intertwine in the stuffy air of your bedroom and you see the room slowly grow dimmer as the sun sets.

“is this helping?” he whispers.

“yeah.” you close your eyes, fingers reaching out to rest on top of the back of his hand, lighting tapping over his fingers. “thanks, tomura.”

“just don’t be stupid and forget again.” he sighs, switching your hand positions, his now firmly laying flat over yours.

“maybe it’s all a ruse to get you in my bed.” you tease.

“not that you need a ruse. it’s you. i’m always available.” he scoffs. “idiot.” he quickly adds on.

tomura’s glad the sun was almost set at this point. you wouldn’t be able to see his growing flushed face and chewed bottom lip as he continues to stare at your slight smile, and tousled hair from laying in bed all day.

he’ll make a mental note to make it a habit to stop by your room and remind you to take your meds from now on. he doesn’t realize until now that this piece of solitude in each other’s presence has been something he’s been craving, almost like an insatiable hunger. 

tomura scooches closer now, letting himself in the cocoon of your blankets. you accept him in between your arms, letting him rest his head against the crook of your neck.

“thank you, tomura.” you mutter against his hairline.

“yeah.”

[cranberrymoons]

hey sweetheart

prompt: meetcute at work (@steddieholidaydrabbles) rated: e (18+) word count: 896 words tags: modern au, line cook eddie/waiter steve, hooking up

welcome to Day 4 of the fic advent calendar – bite-sized fics posting every day during the month of december. enjoy!

Steve is halfway through his first week when he meets him: the line cook with the long hair pulled back in a bun, the stark black lines of tattoos snaking up his arms, the flirty little smile that he flashes in Steve’s direction when Steve comes back to pick up Table 6’s starters.

It’s a hell of a time to start a job in the first place: mid-holiday season, no one around to train him except Robin who’s only worked there a couple weeks longer than he has and knows next to nothing about The Way Things Work.

But she’s Robin, and she’s familiar, and she knows him well enough to warn him to avoid the flirty long-haired line cook with the big brown eyes and the dimples and the million watt smile directed right at him and – 

Fuck.

“Sweetheart, you rang in Table Twelve wrong,” the guy says, leaning forward over the pass with a ticket in his hand. “This says no onions, but the special isn’t made with onions.”

Steve stares at him as he loads Table Six’s plates onto a tray. He resists the urge to roll his eyes, but only barely.

“My name isn’t Sweetheart,” he says eventually. “And so – just extra don’t put onions on it. Who cares?”

The cook raises his eyebrows, tilting his head to the side. “Thought it sounded nicer than ‘hey new guy’, but if you’d prefer that –”

“Steve,” he says. He shoulders his tray. “My name is Steve.”

The cook gives him a little smile, eyes flashing in the bright fluorescents of the kitchen.

“Alright, Sweetheart.” He tilts his chin up. “Extra no onions for Table Twelve, and you can call me Eddie.”

---

It continues on like that for a week or two: Eddie flirting, finding any excuse to ask a question about his ticket. 

Steve knows what he’s doing; he’s worked in restaurants before, and he’s fucked enough hot line cooks in his time that he should know better than to fall into the trap, but still, he finds himself drawn in, entertaining Eddie’s endless teasing and prodding and poking until he starts doing it back – little digs about his shift meal, questions about a menu item that he already knows the answer to.

“Dude,” Robin says, halfway through his first month. 

It’s rounding up on Christmas, and the place is packed, corporate groups out for holiday parties and couples on dates. 

“If you don’t stop flirting, I’m going to cut your fucking dick off,” she says. “Seriously.”

And – okay. That’s fair. 

Steve pulls himself away from where he’d been leaning over the pass, asking Eddie a question about the catch of the day that he’s already asked three times tonight. Clears his throat and straightens up. He tugs his tie back into place, claims the braised oxtail that’s destined for Table Two and clears his throat.

“Sorry.”

Eddie sends him a wink, and Steve feels himself flush.

“Please tell me you’re not going to fuck him,” Robin says as they exit the kitchen.

Steve sighs. “I’m not going to fuck him.”

---

And of course, he’s lying through his teeth.

The very next night, they’re both off work, and he gets a text from an unfamiliar number, just –

hey sweetheart 

Steve flushes as he stares down at his phone, scratching a hand back through his hair. He takes a breath.

Wonder who this could be , he texts back.

All he gets in response is a simple,

😇 

---

Two hours later, he’s flat on his back in Eddie’s bed, clinging to his shoulders and whining as Eddie fucks him so hard he loses his breath, so hard he feels like his brain is rattling around in his skull. He digs his teeth into Eddie’s skin, ankles locked around his back and not even bothering to hold back the noises that Eddie’s punching out of his chest, just –

“Fuck,” he gasps, voice coming high in the back of his throat. “Holy shit, I –”

Eddie’s mouth runs up the column of his neck, hands trailing over his skin, nails dragging sharp lines down his sides.

“You going to come for me, sweetheart?” he asks, voice low in his ear. “Show me how pretty you can be?”

And that’s – for some reason that sets Steve off, turns his skin over to fire as he grips tighter to Eddie’s shoulders, nails digging in, back arching off the bed, coming so hard he sees stars.

---

And then later, when they’re both fucked out and exhausted and Steve is preparing to take his cue to gather his clothes and make a graceful exit, he feels Eddie’s mouth skimming up the side of his neck, hand tangling in his hair, dragging him into another kiss.

A real one, with teeth and tongue and lips, a kiss that isn’t intended to go anywhere other than just to be , and his breath catches a little in his chest, hand skittering over Eddie’s back as he rolls over on top of him.

“Stay?” Eddie asks, voice quiet and hopeful and muffled where their mouths are still pressed together. He smiles, lips quirking up and drawing Steve along with him. “You know I know how to make breakfast.”

And Steve breathes out a quiet laugh, bumping their noses together. He sighs.

“As long as there’s bacon.”

[also on ao3]

[thelaisydazy]

Band!141 x Reader - Subway

Just a little something I've had rattling around my brain this week~

You've never run faster in your life, you're not even sure your feet are hitting the ground between your frantic steps as you race towards the open subway car. You can't miss this train. Not today. Please, not today.

Today is the most important day of your life. The day you audition for a spot in the city's most prestigious ballet companies. If you miss your chance, you won't be able to try again for another year, and you don't know if you'll be able to afford to stay in the city if you don't get into the company. And you refuse to go home a failure. 

From the open train car you hear shouting. Voices calling for you to hurry. The train was about to leave. Nononono. The door starts to close as you run up to the train, just a split second too late. Then it opens again, a large black boot keeping the door from closing completely. 

You look up and see four large men, one of which has stuck his boot out to hold the door open for you. He smiles down at you, the corners of his blue eyes crinkling. He’s older, handsome. His dark brown hair and beard sporting some specks of gray.

“Y’made it love,” he says in a deep, warm voice that makes your heart race. 

“Thanks,” you say quickly, slipping past him and the three with him. The car is packed with nowhere to sit and almost nowhere to stand either. Except right near the group you pushed past on your way onto the train. Sheepishly you make your way back towards them. 

The one that stopped the door for you smiles again and another one, younger with dark curls, waves you over. You’re hesitant, but you go over. 

“One seat left ‘ere,” he says, beckoning to a seat he’d been standing in front of. You mumble another thanks and slip into the seat, trying your best to make yourself as small as possible, missing the way the group smiles at each other.  

“Where you rushing off to love?” the first one asked. The word burly comes to mind as you look up at him. He’s wearing a white tshirt under a well-worn leather jacket, a pair of beat up black jeans and a black beanie. Slung over his back is an instrument case, it looks like a guitar, but you don’t know much about instruments so it could be a bass. 

“I have an audition downtown,” you say, fidgeting with your duffle bag in your lap. 

“‘At Danc’n Knights place?” another one chimes in with a Scottish accent. This one is the shortest of the bunch, though he still towers over you. He’s broad, dark stubble on his pierced face and a mohawk. He’s wearing a spiked leather vest over a black sleeveless shirt and a kilt. He’s standing closest to the largest of the bunch, a large, blond man wearing a privacy mask that resembles a skull.

You nod. You hadn’t wanted to tell them, but the decal of a ballerina on your duffel bag, along with the tight bun you wore your hair in, was definitely enough to give it away. “Dancing Knights, yeah,” you say. “They’re looking for new ballerinas.”

“We’re heading to a recording studio near there,” the second man says. Getting a better look at him, he’s darker than the rest of the group, his eyes are the softest though, dampening the nervousness in your chest. He’s dressed similarly to the rest of the group, another instrument case on his back and a plaid shirt tied around his hips. “Maybe we’ll be seeing you around there.”

You can’t help but smile up at him and nod. He reaches into his back pocket, pulling out a small black card, handing it over to you. “We’re I4I,” he says. “I’m Kyle, everyone calls me Gaz.” He went around pointing to the oldest man first. “That’s John.” Then to the Scottish man. “Johnny, we call him Soap.” And finally the largest of them. “And big guy there is Ghost.”

“Ghost?” you can’t help but ask, looking over the card in your hand. It’s a thick black stock with the band name and a logo featuring a skull with a sword running through it wrapped in a pair of white feathered wings.

Kyle shrugs at you. “Doesn’t like anyone knowing his name,” he says simply. You nod quietly, then give them your name with a polite smile. 

“You’re all in a band then?” you ask, relaxing a little. You were certain whatever they played, it wasn’t something you were into, but they seemed nice enough to at least check out their social media. It was the least you could do after they stopped the subway for you.

“That’s right lovie,” Kyle says. “Next big thing.” He gives you a wink. “Better keep your pretty little eyes out for us.” Your face feels warm at his shameless flirting and he chuckles at you. “We always post when we’re playing next, you should come to one of our shows. We’ll give you the VIP experience.”

“Oh!” you say. “Uh.. sure.. Maybe.” You tuck the card into your duffel. “I’ll keep an eye out if I make this audition.”

“You better make it then little one,” John says, smiling at you as the subway pulls into your stop. “For our sake.” 

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Shades of Pink

Of Oak and Ivy, Chapter 2

Series Masterlist         Next Chapter

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader 

summary: In college, Matt Murdock had two best friends, Foggy Nelson and you. However, life had no intention of letting you graduate with him. When he reconnects with you in adulthood, he is troubled to see the hand God has dealt you and vows to use every tool at his disposal to save you from damnation.

warnings: swearing, jealous/possessive Matt, underage drinking, Matt being a fool

a/n: Thank you all for being patient with me! My brain has not been feeling up to writing lately but I managed to get the next few chapters of this fic planned out! I have a couple more written so the plan is to post an update for this fic every 3 weeks. I hope that's frequent enough for y'all :)

w/c: 5.8k

Matt’s skull rattled as the machine in front of him gave a shriek, metal grinding on metal. Gritting his teeth, he ran a hand over the machine’s interface, growing more frustrated when the start button was rendered functionless. 

The telling chime of an error message echoed in the damp basement and taunted him. “Fuck!” He cursed, kicking the reinforced frame in anger. Great, now he had no clean clothes AND his foot hurt. 

Growling in irritation, he yanked open the door and began grasping handfuls of soaking wet clothes and dropping them into his hamper with nauseating splats. 

The suds from his detergent quickly settled into a film over his skin, actively worsening his mood. Setting his jaw, he hefted the rapidly dampening laundry bag over his shoulder to trudge back to his room. 

Each step sent shockwaves of tension through his frame, he was freefalling into overstimulation at this point. By the time he reached his floor, every cell in his body was rigid, trying desperately to hold back the rage-induced sobs building in his chest. Fumbling with his key, he managed to push the door open with a slam—startling Foggy and, unexpectedly, you. 

“Hey man, we were about to come find you so we could grab lunch. You, uh, you ok?” Foggy asked skeptically, but Matt ignored him. Instead, focused on your soft footsteps from the edge of his bed to his stiff form in the doorway. 

“What happened, trouble?” The name suggested you were hoping to lighten his mood, but he could practically taste the concern rolling off your skin. 

“Washing machine broke. Didn’t feel like dealing with it, so…” Matt shrugged, biting his cheek fiercely to avoid becoming emotional in your presence. 

You tutted in sympathy, reaching to his shoulder to slip the bag of laundry from his clenched fist. “Well, after lunch I can drive you to my place and we can do laundry there, if you want?” The warmth of your fingertips over his torso sent a shudder down his spine. “Matt..?” 

“Yah, that…that sounds good. Let’s, uh, let’s do that.” Matt responded lamely, shuffling from foot to foot as he willed his tense body to slacken. 

“I’m sorry your day started so poorly. Do you want a hug?” Your voice was soft, your posture hesitant as you asked Matt a question he didn’t know he needed to hear. Nodding miserably, he collapsed against you. 

Your soft hands wrapped around his chest, pressing upwards between his shoulder blades with delightful pressure. Matt melted into the embrace, feeling the frustration flood out of his body with each of your inhales. Threading one hand into his hair, you scratched lightly, eliciting a dreamy sigh from him. Giggling in response, you squeezed him tightly before drawing away, much to his chagrin. 

You chuckled, tracing a thumb over the deep furrow between his brows. “Wow, that bad?” 

Face falling, Matt’s mouth fell open in a mixture of embarrassment and horror. Shaking his head profusely, he stammered. “N-no, not at all, I just—“ 

Lightly shoving his shoulder, you laughed brightly. “I’m kidding, trouble. It seems like you needed that. So…” Turning back to face Foggy (who Matt had forgotten was there) you smiled. “Lunch?” 

“Foggy if you spill that in my car, you’re banned. You hear me? Excommunicated from my vehicular sanctuary.” You groused, glaring at the blond who was precariously balancing a large milkshake on his knees in your rear view mirror. 

Blushing, Foggy quickly moved the cup to a more sturdy location as he finished his burger. “Yes ma’am.” He gave a mock salute, making you abandon your scowl for a satisfied smirk. Matt was smiling beside you, sipping his coffee carefully to avoid the same threats as his roommate.  

The three of you were seated comfortably in your car, bags of both Matt’s and Foggy’s laundry stashed in the trunk as you inched closer to the building you lived in. 

Your loft was hidden away in the back corner of a bland building about 8 blocks from Campus. The worn red brick stood about 15 stories tall, complete with the paint-dripped doors and crooked windows that one comes to expect when seeing cheap student housing. 

The inside was drafty and humid, the insulation having rotted away through decades of storms and frat-style ragers. The walls were far from soundproof, given they were about 90% white paint, which had encouraged you to begin seeking refuge in Matt and Foggy’s room whenever you needed to study or, honestly, a moment of peace on a weekend. 

Which is how you found yourself toting the two boys back to your spacious yet slightly dingy loft which, amazingly, had its own functional washer and dryer. And, thankfully, a really comfy couch given that Foggy hadn’t done laundry once since move in. 

“How on earth have you made it this far in life without doing a single load of laundry?” Matt panted between giggles as Foggy’s face scrunched with a pout as he shuffled over to the washer. 

“I don’t know! My mom always did it.” Matt failed to hold back a snort and Foggy crossed his arms. “It’s not that funny, Murdock!” 

“Do your siblings know how to do laundry?” You raised an eyebrow at him, not even trying to keep your smile contained. Matt was in stitches beside you and his laughter was contagious. 

“I mean yah, but—“ Matt guffawed and Foggy sank into his seat, sullenly glaring at the pair of you. “I hate you guys. So much for friendship.” 

A bout of giggles burst out of you. “Don’t worry, Fog. We’ll show you how. It’s really not that hard, just need to know a few things.” 

You opened the top of the washer. “I’m assuming you don’t have detergent then?” Taking Foggy’s indiscernible mutter as an affirmative, you pulled out your own. 

“That’s fine, I’ll loan you some, but I expect you to buy your own next time, Nelson. This shit ain’t cheap.” You pointed a finger at him and he put his hand up in promise. 

“Scout’s honor.” 

Matt turned to you with a grimace. “Shit, I didn’t bring any either. It didn’t cross my mind.” 

With a humorous twinkle in your eye, you pinched his waist. “That’s ok, Matt. You can use some of mine whenever you want. Not a problem.” 

Foggy’s jaw dropped. “Are you serious!?” 

Ignoring him, Matt gave you an overly gracious smile, clearly picking up on your mirthful spirit. “That is so kind of you, sweetheart. You have such a giving personality.”

Foggy spluttered in irritation, head whipping between the two of you incredulously. 

“Anything for my favorite guy.” You purred, sidling up to him as Foggy choked. Matt couldn’t help the flutter of his heart at the implication of you preferring him over anyone else. 

“Guys, c'mon. You’re being mean.” Foggy pouted. You chuckled but pulled away from Matt to wrap the other boy in a hug. 

“I’m sorry, Fog. I love you too, scout’s honor.” 

Foggy grumbled at your promise, but returned the hug. “Yah, yah. Sure ya do. Anyway, are you gonna teach me something or will I continue to wander through this world clueless about the wonders of clean clothes?” 

Giggling, you pulled him over to the machine and launched into a thorough explanation of the process. While he was sure you were sharing good tips, Matt’s brain was not at all focused on your words. His mind was transfixed on the heat cradling his shoulder from your faded touch, and the steadiness of your heart when you’d called him your favorite guy. 

It was hard to not let his thoughts wander, when the smell of you coiled around him like a scarf on a bitter cold day. Your heartbeat danced along as you spoke animatedly with Foggy—teasing, confident personality slowly beginning to reveal itself as you grew more comfortable with the two roommates. Matt was no stranger to his tendency to fall head first for quick-witted women, but it was getting harder to obey his rational side when you opened yourself to him in ways like this. 

Trusting him, encouraging his teasing sarcasm with your own goofy humor, leaning into his touchy nature as if you wanted it too. The fact that he was about to be wearing your laundry detergent for weeks was not going to help quell his growing infatuation. 

Your voice broke through the growing pile of thoughts in his mind. “Right, Matt?” 

“Uh, what?” His face must have reflected his dreamy confusion because Foggy snorted. 

“Doing ok over there, Casanova? Did we lose you in the intricacies of a habit you already have?” Matt rolled his eyes as he heard two hands land on hips, knowing Foggy was giving him a shit-eating smirk. 

“Believe it or not, Nelson, I don’t have the most fun listening to you all day every day. Forgive me for letting my mind wander while you learned something simple.” His tone was meant to be light, but the nerve Foggy had unknowingly struck left his voice harsher than intended. 

Stepping in between him and his roommate, you placed a hand on his arm gently. “Hey, it’s ok that you tuned us out and it’s ok that Foggy needs help with this. I was just letting him know that we were always here if he had any questions.” 

Wincing as he realized you were mediating a conflict he’d accidentally created, he smiled sadly at the blond. “Sorry, Fog. Of course you can ask me. Always. I’m practically a laundry expert.” He chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.  

His attempt worked immediately. “Aw, you sap. You’re forgiven.” Foggy smashed himself against his roommate, eliciting a grunt from the taller man. 

“Thanks, bud. I appreciate you both dealing with my bad mood today.” Matt spoke quietly, a flicker of fear sparking in his chest. 

“What bad mood?” You asked, joining the hug. The two of you squeezed Matt until he groaned at you to get off, setting off fits of giggles in you and Foggy both. 

“Ok, now that we’ve started the washer, I can give you the tour!” You exclaimed, stepping towards the doorway. “This way, gentlemen! Prepare to be amazed.”

The act of doing laundry at your place shouldn’t have been as life-changing as it was for Matt. Your soft floral scent clung to all of him—his clothes, his sheets, his skin. Each inhale brought him closer to you, and it was more indulgent than any sensation he’d ever experienced. Connecting with you at all was incredible, but to have your presence melding into his belongings as if you had chosen him, claimed him. It was divine. 

Unfortunately, as had been evident his entire life, all good things come at a price. The cost of feeling this close to you was the new pressure on his delicate senses. He adored the fact that he was able to carry a piece of you with him, it brought more emotional comfort than he could have imagined, but his nose and skin were less happy about the idea. 

“Matt, I’m begging you, rewash your clothes, man. You’re, like, allergic to that detergent, I think.” Foggy bit his lip, circling his roommate as he looked at the irritation crawling across Matt’s back. 

“‘M fine, Fog.” Matt tugged on a shirt, ignoring the worry emanating from his roommate. “My skin is just sensitive, is all. It just needs to adjust.” He left out the fact that this slight effect was nothing compared to the reaction his skin had every time his clothes were washed in coarse starch by the nuns. At least this was a symptom of your genuine care for him, rather than general disdain for his needs. 

“And this has nothing to do with that fact that you’re adorably into our mutual friend,” Matt winced as Foggy teasingly handed out your name. 

“I’m not ‘into’ her, Fog! What the hell?” 

“Sure, that’s why you’re walking around using more control than I’ve ever had in my life to not scratch your skin clean off your bones?” Foggy shook his head as Matt attempted to inconspicuously slide his hand back into his lap from where it was itching his side. 

“Like I said, sensitive skin—“

“Not to mention that you’ve had more headaches this week than in the nearly two months I’ve known you?” Matt remained silent at the allegation, hoping not to convey admission with his lack of words. 

The headaches had been more of a nuisance than the scratchy fabric rubbing at his angry skin. He wasn’t used to this much exposure to scented items in his personal space, let alone pressed against him. But it was all worth it to hear the sweet little sigh you gave when you were close to him, comforted by the familiarity. 

“Nothing to say for yourself? You realize the more you avoid this conversation, the more likely it seems that you like her, right?” 

Matt just sighed. “I can’t like her, Fog. We are in our first semester at one of the most prestigious law schools in the country and she’s one of two friends that I have. I can’t lose that, and I don’t have the time to start a real relationship. So we need to stay friends.” 

“I get it, Matt. You’re not really a long term kind of guy, but that doesn’t mean you can’t learn! She is so sweet I’m sure she’d be more than patient with you.” Damn Foggy’s intuition for constantly discovering the core of Matt’s insecurities. 

“She deserves better than me.” 

“Matt—“ 

“No, Foggy,” Clenching his fists, Matt let out a breath through flaring nostrils. “I’m not good enough.” 

Foggy sighed, but dropped the subject. 

Despite Matt being more than confident in his inability to treat you the way you deserved, he found himself growing incredibly envious of the attention you started receiving from other men. There was no doubt in his mind that you were attractive, he’d had more than a few conversations with Foggy (and enough time in class biting his cheek in anger as the men around you fixated) to know that you caught the attention of damn near everyone in the room. 

Maybe it was the fact that you weren’t afraid of standing up for your beliefs or confronting an ignorant point raised by a classmate. It also could’ve been the fact that you were one of the only students who knew what was going on. Your intelligence was captivating, and the way your voice carried defiantly across the room seemed to encourage the affections of both your peers and the Property Law TA. 

Explanation for their interest aside, Matt found himself practically swatting potential suitors away from you each day, irritation swelling in his chest as your heart fluttered at the attention. You’d shyly admitted to him that you’d never had a long term relationship before and that you weren’t used to being sought after. If he was an ounce more of a man, he would have confessed just how much you deserved the affection, even when it wasn’t from him. It wasn’t fair of him to keep you from happiness, he knew that, but every time your pulse skipped as another boy complimented you, it felt like he’d been kicked in the gut. 

So he’d taken to stewing in his own silent fury, currently pretending to read ahead while actually listening intently to your bubbling laughter as a boy a few rows behind you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear with some generic pick up line. Shifting in his seat to disguise the rumbling growl in his throat, his heart sank as the bachelor invited you to a party that evening. Giggling, you giddily accepted, writing down the details before scurrying back to your seat. 

There was a noticeable warmth in the apples of your cheeks and the tips of your ears. Matt could practically feel the radiant smile you were wearing. As he was working up the dignity to break the silence, you turned to him gleefully. “Matty,” He’d be lying if he said his heart didn’t skip at the new affectionate nickname. “What would you say to attending our first college party?” 

Trudging back to the corner across the horrifically sticky wood floor, Matt set his jaw and chugged the disgusting alcoholic sludge he’d been served. Waiting impatiently for the buzz to wash over him, he glowered in a stiff armchair as you flitted around with the overly flirtatious host. Foggy had disappeared ages ago with a peppy journalism student, telling him not to wait up. 

The party was off campus at the house of your fellow Torts student. He and his large handful of housemates lived in a shabby 3 bedroom that felt fragile in design, as if the strong bass blasting from the beer-soaked speakers would shatter the foundation at any moment. Sweaty bodies pressed together in a pulsating mass, dancing to the ear-piercing techno music and slurping down cheap booze. 

Matt was well aware that he was not explicitly invited to this soirée, but hearing you ramble excitedly at the idea of the three of you attending together had been too sweet to shut down. Your gracious host only seemed a bit miffed that two boys had shown up with you, taking no time to brush off Matt and Foggy’s polite greetings and whisk you away like the true gentleman he was shaping up to be. 

James or Josh or whatever his name was, Matt could honestly care less, clearly intended to get in your pants, and was taking no time to attempt that. After pumping you full of Jell-O shots, he engaged you in conversation about the volunteer work he loved so much during high school. Matt didn’t need to hear his heartbeat to know that was utter bullshit, but you responded with elation, ecstatic to find another law student with a similar moral compass to your own. The dark haired law student was more focused on the fact that he could smell his rival’s arousal brewing, a set of wandering hands becoming increasingly noticeable despite the quaking music and overwhelming atmosphere. Hearing a nervous giggle spill out of your mouth as you shrugged out of an inebriated touch, Matt stumbled off the cushions he sat on, ambling over to you to ensure you were safe. 

Before he’d even reached you, your attention landed on him and your pulse stilled. The relieved exhale that left your lips as your eyes found him in the crowd gave his ego a boost for the ages. Waltzing up to you with a smirk, he wrapped an arm protectively around your shoulders as you smiled up at him. “Hey, you! Long time, no see.” Your voice was cheerful despite the situation. 

“You doing ok?” Matt asked, ignoring the brooding man to his left who had backed off a bit since Matt had walked over. 

“Uh huh!” Your head bobbed with a nod, leaning into Matt, you waved towards your suitor. “Jake was just telling me about his work with the Red Cross after Hurricane Isabel.” 

The buff man gave a condescending chuckle, eyes darting over your form. “The Peace Corps, actually.” 

You gasped, “Oh, that’s right, I’m so sorry!” Jake simply smiled, his eyes darkening as Matt subconsciously clenched his hand around you. 

“Quite alright, sweetheart,” He drawled and Matt’s small grin vanished. How dare he call you that? Only Matt was allowed to call you that. “It’s easy to get confused about that stuff. But, yah, it was just so…rewarding, ya know? Helping all those poor people who lost their homes. Can’t wait to do it again after graduating.” 

“Oh, you’re going back to the Peace Corps? How noble of you,” Matt smiled, thinly covering his irritation at this jerk’s arrogance. 

“Well, either that or a similar organization. It’s just so important to give back, ya know?” The tone of the other man indicated that he, too, was holding back a stream of anger. 

As Matt was about to spit back a response, a drunk guy tripped into Jake, who promptly “spilled” (threw) his drink onto Matt’s pristine shirt. Jumping away from you, Matt stood up straight to let the excess liquid drip off his torso, trying not to scream as the damp fabric fused with his skin. 

Jake, ever the charmer, let out a barking laugh. “Shit, sorry man. Wasn’t thinking.”

“Course you weren’t,” Matt muttered, flicking excess moisture from his hands. 

“Oh gosh, you ok, Matty?” You hurried to grab paper towels from the counter behind you, pressing a wad into Matt’s hands while using another handful to dry his shirt yourself. Standing there frozen, Matt’s tipsy brain couldn’t fathom how amazing it felt to have your fingers pressed against his stomach as you tried to clean him up. 

Realizing with a jolt that he hadn’t responded to your worried question, he placed a hand over yours gently. “Uh, yah, I’m fine.” 

“Don’t worry about him, beautiful, he can clean up in the bathroom while we chat.” Heat pushed aggressively at his already sticky skin as Jake sidled up behind you, placing eager hands on your waist as the douchebag tried to pry you from Matt. 

Suddenly, something in him snapped. He wasn’t happy with the immense amount of sensation he’d had to endure nor the fact that he’d been listening to a complete asshole flirt with you all night. Not to mention, said asshole seemed to be moving faster than you wanted and was now physically removing you from Matt’s safeguarding after pouring foul-smelling punch all over his clean shirt? That was just unacceptable. The dark force within Matt that was constantly simmering below the surface was ready to erupt. 

Stepping forward with a snarl, Matt was ready for a fight, but he didn’t have to start one. 

Pulling out of the grasp of your aggressive suitor’s hands, you intertwined your fingers with Matt’s. “Sorry, Jake, but I should get going. I have to be up for a scholarship event tomorrow, and I’ll need a good amount of sleep if I want to act not-hungover.” You giggled, smiling at him. “I’ll see you around?” 

“Sure. Whatever,” Jake feigned a smile, stalking away but muttering loud enough for Matt to hear, “Stupid bitch.” 

Matt growled, taking a firm step towards him, but you tugged on his hand. “Hey,” You murmured, squeezing his hand, “Let’s get out of here.” 

Not wanting to upset you by giving away the other man’s shitty intentions, Matt trailed after you as you wove through the crowd and out the door. The grip of your fingers around his hand was grounding, allowing him to push away the less pleasant feelings from the party. Shoving past a group of people playing beer pong outside, you sighed as your lungs took in fresh air for the first time in a few hours. 

“Wow, that was…” you trailed off, steps faltering slightly. 

“Yah.” Matt agreed, trying not to blush as you linked your arms together on the path towards his dorm.  “I’m…sorry.” 

Turning to him, your footwork halted. “For what, Matty?” 

“I didn’t mean to stop you from enjoying yourself. You and…Jake,” Matt practically choked around the name. “Really seemed to hit it off.”

You were quiet for a moment, your steady heartbeat echoing in Matt’s ears, before you burst out laughing. Giggles became chuckles which transformed into uproarious laughter. You had to pull yourself out of Matt’s hold to cradle your stomach as you cracked yourself up. Matt just stared blankly at you, brain flooding with pure confusion. 

“Matt,” You wheezed. “He’s a total douchebag.” 

“But, but I thought—“ Matt shook his head, breaking into his own set of giggles listening to your bright, infectious ones. “Stop laughing! He was all over you!”

“Yah because he’s a douchebag!” You exclaimed, as if it was obvious. Falling back against Matt’s side, you tucked an arm around his waist and began marching forward again. “He told me that bullshit story about the Peace Corps, but they don’t accept minors. So he was either lying about that or his age.” 

“Why did you talk to him for so long? You had me fooled.” Matt ran a hand over your back, smiling with relief that you hadn’t been as smitten with Jake as he’d assumed. 

“I don’t know!” You shoved him lightly as he snorted at your behavior. “I’m awkward, Matty! I kept trying to end the conversation and he just. Kept. Talking. And then I felt bad because he seemed like an ok guy, but then he started getting handsy and I was soooo over it.” 

Growling deeply, Matt’s arm tightened around you. “I’m pretty sure everyone in the room was over it at that point.” 

You just hummed in thought. “Well it’s a good thing I have my Matt in Shining Armor. Now let’s get you home so you can change.”

“About that..” Matt slowed his pace, not wanting to let you go quite yet. He needed a plan, and fast. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“I’m just…I can’t exactly tell, but I assume the shirt is going to stain?”

With a grimace, you traced a finger over the patch the drink had touched. Matt’s light blue shirt wouldn’t stand a chance after 24 hours. “Oof. It’s likely if it’s not treated tonight. That punch was eerily red. Like inedibly vibrant in color. But if you use a stain remover—“

“I don’t have that.” Matt blurted, “I, er, I just really like this shirt,” God, that was the worst excuse he had ever come up with. Nice going, Murdock. “and I don’t want it to stain. Would you, um, could you—“

“Is the great Matthew Murdock asking for my assistance with laundry?” He could hear the smirk you wore. “I thought you were an expert.” 

“That’s hearsay.” He objected, teasingly. 

You giggled once more. “Well, what kind of person would I be if I let my knight’s shining armor stay tarnished?” 

Matt feigned a groan at your cheesy comment. “You know what, on second thought—“ He started to pull away from you, but you held fast. 

“Nope! You want to hang out with me even though I say goofy shit. That’s your bad. No turning back now, you’re in too deep, Murdock.” 

“Lucky me.” Matt remarked, but there wasn’t a hint of sarcasm in his tone. 

“C’mon, slowpoke!! Time is of the essence!” You pulled Matt up the last flight of stairs to your loft, laughing as he pretended to go limp so you would drag him further. “Hey! Be careful, trouble, you weigh more than I can handle.” 

“Excuses, excuses.” Matt lurched forward, toppling against you as you opened the door. You squealed, but nestled into the contact anyway. The door creaked open and you both shuffled inside, there was no sign of anyone else in the apartment. 

“My roommate went out with her boyfriend.” You explained, as if reading his mind. “They usually hang out here but I think they were drinking for free somewhere.”

“Good for them.” Matt snorted, being tugged towards your laundry room. 

You instructed him to sit on top of the dryer while you opened the washer. “Your shirt, sir,” Holding out a hand to him, you messed with settings on the machine. 

Removing each plastic button from its corresponding fabric loop, Matt was suddenly painfully aware of how intimate the action was. Biting his lip to keep his growing…feelings…at bay, he tried not to dwindle on the fact that you had asked him to undress. In your apartment. Alone. 

You may have just realized the tension of the moment as well, heat flooding your body as your movement stilled. In one swift movement, Matt gracefully removed the dress shirt and placed it in your outstretched palm, imaginary sparks cascading up his arm as his fingertips brushed your bare skin. 

“Thank you,” You nearly whispered, gaze lingering on his parted lips for a moment too long before you busied yourself at the washer. “Um, Hydrogen peroxide should fix the discoloration. It might smell a little, though. We may need to wash it twice.”

“That’s, uh, that’s fine.” Matt murmured, arousal becoming difficult to ignore. 

“I can wash your undershirt too, if you want,” Matt’s skin jumped as your fingers danced over the fabric where the spilled drink had seeped through. 

“Yah. Yah, ok.” Your hand rose and fell with Matt’s chest as he breathed. Time had slowed to a crawl, nothing existing outside the little haven you had painstakingly created for him. Tugging the garment up and over his head, he gripped it tightly for a moment before passing it over. “Here.” 

You took the fabric gingerly, eyes not straying from his mouth. “Thanks.” Still clenching the shirt in one hand, you cupped his cheek and leaned in. Matt greedily followed your lead, nose bumping against yours for only a second before—

The sound of a door slamming made you both jump apart. Drunken laughter rang throughout the hallway but abruptly stopped as Oscar and Jen took in the scene before them. Eyes flitting between shirtless, panting Matt, and your embarrassed face, it painted quite the picture. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.” Jen giggled, pulling Oscar towards her room. 

“Carry on, children!” Oscar guffawed, running after her. 

Grimacing, you turned back to Matt. “Shit, Matt, I—“

“You know what, I should really get going.” Matt snatched his undershirt from your open hand, sliding off the dryer and beelining for the door. 

“Matt, wait!” You called after him, but he was already gone. 

Exhaling nervously, you clenched your fingers around the item you held before knocking firmly on the door. 

Foggy’s equally anxious face appeared as the door opened. Tension ebbed from his brow slightly as he met your wide eyes. “Well, what do you know!” He greeted you in a loud voice laced with false surprise. “So lovely to see you, my dear. Please, come in.”

Stepping past Foggy with a grimace of a smile, your gaze quickly found Matt—tucked away against his thin headboard, looking like he wanted to vanish into the faux wood. 

“Wow, would you look at the time. I really should be going.” Seizing his coat from the bed, Foggy scurried to the door. 

“Where are you going?” Matt asked, frantically. 

“Out. With, er, my other friends. Bye!” The slam of a door concluded his swift exit. 

You avoided looking at Matt, shuffling from foot to foot for a moment before sitting at the edge of Foggy’s bed. The raven-haired boy had a skittish energy, like a feral cat, and you didn’t want to scare him off. 

Biting your lip, you desperately scrounged for any remaining courage within yourself, trying to muster up the nerve to break the silence, but Matt beat you to it. 

“I’m starting to think you two planned that.” He spoke quietly, toying with a stray thread on his comforter. 

You gave a humorless chuckle. “Guess we need to work on our acting skills, huh?” 

Matt just grunted. C’mon Murdock, work with me here. 

You took a deep breath, “Matt, about Thursday night—“ Your sweet friend interrupted you with a wince. 

“I’m sorry.” Matt’s face was practically mournful, but his apology left you confused. 

“Sorry for what?” You tilted your head, honed in on him as he curled further into the corner. 

“I…I made it weird. I didn’t mean to, it just happened! You were trying to do something nice and then I had to go and ruin it and then your roommates came home and—“ 

“Oh, Matty,” You launched yourself off of Foggy’s bed and flung your arms around Matt. Startled, he teetered for a moment before returning the hug. “You didn’t ruin anything. We were both…a little tipsy, and it was late. We weren’t acting like ourselves. We can just forget about it!” 

Pushing down the disappointment that surfaced at your desire to move past the near kiss, Matt was a bit relieved that you didn’t hate him. “Really?” He asked as you settled against his side, nestling into the arm he threw over you as if you belonged there. 

“Of course! If you’re willing, we can move past it.” Then, with a bit more vulnerability, you added, “I care about you a lot, trouble. I’m not going to let a little awkwardness keep us apart.” 

Matt smiled as you rested your head against his shoulder, taking a moment to weave your fingers together. He basked in your warmth for a bit before curiosity outweighed his desire to hold you. 

“What did you bring with you?” His voice was still soft, tentative, like he was still doubting that you cared for him. 

“Oh!” Escaping his grasp, you leapt to grab the crumpled heap of fabric from the other bed. “I brought back your shirt.” 

Matt gingerly took the clothing from you, wondering why he hadn’t smelled the strong floral detergent when you came in. Forgetting his manners, he brought the fabric to his face, inhaling deeply before running his fingers over it. 

It was soft, more so than when he had worn it last. It held traces of your vanilla soap, and even fainter remnants of tequila and peroxide, but it smelled like…nothing. Or as close to nothing as any porous object could ever get with his delicate senses. 

“I, um, I hope it’s ok. I used a new detergent. Fragrance and dye free, supposed to be good for sensitive skin.” You shifted on the balls of your feet, watching him turn the shirt in his grasp . 

Taking your hand, Matt tugged you back against his hip, embracing you again. “Thank you.” He struggled to form the words around the lump of emotion in his throat. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Foggy may have mentioned that the clothes we washed last time were giving you a reaction.” You shoved him lightly. “You should have told me!” 

Shrugging, Matt sighed. “I didn’t want to be a bother.” 

Snuggling in closer, you frowned. “You never bother me, trouble. You ok?” 

Matt scrubbed at his eyes hastily, “M’fine.” You clearly didn’t buy his bullshit, but you didn’t call him on it either, simply using a gentle thumb to wipe away a stray tear that his hands missed. 

“You don’t have to tell me anything, Matty. But, if you want to, I’m right here.” 

Eyes filling with tears again, he stifled a sob, waiting for the ability to pull himself together before he spilled his secrets to you. “Sorry, didn’t mean to get emotional, it’s just—“ Your hand came up to stroke through his hair as a strangled cry broke free. “No one has ever done this for me before. I’m just…not used to it.” 

“You’re my best friend, Matt. You deserve to be taken care of, and I’m happy to do it.” Pressing a kiss to his temple, you guided him to your shoulder and simply let him cry.

Tag list: @eugene-emt-roe @abbyhaslongshorts @mrs-bellingham @abucketofweird @yeonalie @jadeunstablexx @spider-murdock

[smolvenger]

Court of Mischief and Purpose Chapter 22 (Loki x Fem Reader Crossover Series, Court of Thorns and Roses AU)

Series Summary: Sarah J Maas's A Court of Thorns and Roses series reimagined with Tom Hiddleston's various characters- Especially the events in the second book, A Court of Mist and Fury and onwards. England. 1885. You are dying of tuberculosis right before your upcoming wedding to the Lusty Vicar of Aldwinter, Will Ransome. As you lay on what could be your deathbed, the god of mischief Loki appears before you with a deal. He will heal you in time for the wedding...if you spend a week of every month with him.

Chapter Summary: Being invited to a dinner party, you and your companions seize the chance to get the first trove.

Series Masterlist

Word Count: >4K

Warnings: Some spicy flirting, but no actual smut. Not much, some angst. Greif and mentions of bullying. If I miss anything, let me know! Proceed with caution, but I take full responsibility for how I portray dark subject matter and if it is not done tastefully or well. If I miss anything that could be triggering, it is your responsibility to tell me as soon as possible so I can tag it here. Otherwise, enjoy!

A/N: I have had major writer's block since moving into an apartment and starting grad school, but maybe something will come up and I will be blocked from Character AI bc I waste all of my time there now. Anyways, it is not perfect, but I just wanted it done. Ta da!

Taglist: @evelyn-kingsley@jennyggggrrr@five-miles-over@fictive-sl0th@ladycamillewrites@villainousshakespeare@holdmytesseract@eleniblue@twhxhck@lokisgoodgirl@lovelysizzlingbluebird@raqnarokr@holymultiplefandomsbatman@michelleleewise@wolfsmom1@cheekyscamp@mochie85@fandxmslxt69@skittslackoffilter@mischief2sarawr @asgards-princess-of-mischief

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

You, Edith, your husband, Stella, and Sif huddled on a cafe table. The building was painted in pastel greens and pinks, with wide windows filtering in sunlight as guests chatted around all of you. But it was not so noisy that one could not focus on the manuscript. Edith sat at the other end, nervously drinking her coffee, her sandwich untouched. The rest of you huddled together tight to read it together, Sif being the one to turn the pages. 

Loki did raise his eyebrow at a few points, Stella’s bulged out. Sif only had no facial reaction.

Edith’s story was about a ghost who haunted a woman in her home. She added details of the dark house and creaking wood. Of the ghost's skeletal fingers, a skull-like face was blank except for a wide mouth, open with sharp teeth. The characters seemed as real as flesh, with little details that only someone who observed others could make. At one point, the woman was asleep when the ghost screamed. The noise rattled the house and would not stop, waking the woman up in fright. It made you shiver. 

The heroine had a past, as did the house, but it was not revealed. As you got to the end of the snippet, you were eager to know the truth, but Sif set the pages down on the table.

“Miss Cushing, that was incredible!” Stella cried, a hand over her heart. Perhaps it was still racing from the terror of the story.

Edith nodded with a smile, a blush coming up on her.

“Oh, thank you!” she replied. She sat up straighter, and her voice brighter.

“I had chills!” you added on.

“It…wasn’t bad at all,” Loki admitted.

“Well, when I was young. I saw something- and heard noises. I believe I encountered a ghost. I never forgot it,” she admitted. “Father never believed me, only a friend did.”

“A ghost?” Sif asked, she folded her arms.

Edith reached over. She carefully put her papers into the folder and wrapped her arms around it like a baby.

“Yes.” was all she said.

“And has this ghost been to you since, Miss Cushing?” Loki asked.

Edith set down the folder.

“No…. I wrote to explore that. I had an idea and it would never leave me. It was like a fever- I had to write it down. Besides, I always loved stories and books…Mama was the only woman I knew who loved them too and then she…she passed.”

She slumped, her eyes growing vacant. Stella reached out and held her hand.

“She would be proud of you now. Creating something and putting it out there, takes great courage,” you consoled.

A small smile flickered on Edith.

“When did she pass?” asked Stella.

“When I was ten,” answered Edith.

“All this while still a child? You poor thing!” replied Stella.

Edith let out a deep sigh.

“I hope you get published. There are women writers out there- you will be one of them in enough time if you keep at it,” you encouraged her.

“Thank you I…” there were tears in her eyes.

“Oh, is something wrong? We didn’t- offend you?” you asked. Digging into your reticule, you pulled out a handkerchief. Edith gripped onto it, twisting it anxiously.

“It’s only…I…I…” began Edith.

She hesitated. Her lips quivering, then she hung her head low and began her confession.

“No, you didn’t offend me at all, it’s only…I…I hated girls my age. When I was little, I was so obsessed with all those things- ghosts, death, books, novels. I struggled to relate to them when I was little because I just wanted to talk about what I was reading. They didn’t even…try to make room for me. I was excluded. I misunderstood their games and their words. I tried so hard, but it was never good enough. And as a child they-they…”

She paused.

“Mrs. McMichael’s daughter Eunice and her friends always bullied me. They brought me along to be their fool, something to kick at. And I…I just felt so alone…I always did…I didn’t like them. They laughed at me. Teased me. Locked me in rooms. Called me names. And even now that we’re grown…they still keep at it. And I always have to spend time with them. Trying to discuss ribbons at least and dealing with their jabs at most. And Mrs. McMichael…she…I’m always so scared I will say something wrong, something bad…and they’ll laugh at me again. I try so hard to be nice to them. To not strike back because it will only make things worse. But…I could never be myself. But even when I barely said anything,  they would always find a way to insult me. To make me less. I didn’t want to go to balls. Go to anything. I didn’t want to go somewhere where I’d be a figure of scorn…and I was…I was always alone…”

“They’re cowards and fools,” Sif spat.

Edith smiled at that, wiping a few small tears with the handkerchief. 

“Yes, they are. But…not since…since now I…I never could speak to anyone other than Michael, much less another woman, and I…I…” she babbled.

She smiled lightly, her tears still in her small eyes. 

“Not until today. When I met all of you,” she completed.

“I guess we can all consider each other friends. And I’m glad to have you as one, Edith” you replied.

Edith then handed the handkerchief back, her face pink.

“Oh goodness, I just cried in public,” she sighed.

“It’s alright, it was rather small,” Stella assured her with a smile.

There was a small pause. Edith had gathered herself. Her appetite returned and she ate her sandwich. Topics went back and forth as the mood lightened. As the bill was paid, she turned to the rest of you.

“Oh- there is a dinner party later this week at my place. Father and I are hosting. It’s going to be a smaller, intimate affair but he said I could invite anyone I wanted…But…could I invite all of you?” she asked.

Loki raised an eyebrow.

“I think that-”

Clutching his hand, you cut in, interrupting him with an enthusiastic smile.

“We would love to be invited! Can my husband’s friends come too? In total- that should make eight of us, if you have the seats!” you replied.

Loki looked at you, but you squeezed his fist, signaling him to not speak. 

“Yes, of course!” Edith promised. “Where are all of you staying.”

This time, you turned to Loki. He replied that his friend Mr. Pine found a hotel for all of them and that the RSVPs could be forwarded to the address and hotel rooms. Edith vowed to do so, scribbling the address on paper and saying the invites would arrive shortly. Saying your goodbyes, she then left the cafe with a bounce in her step.

Once the door closed, Loki flipped his face to all of you. 

“What in the seven hels is going to a Midgard banquet going to accomplish?” he asked.

“That banquet is exactly where we need to be,” Sif replied. She made glares here and there to make sure no mortal was watching. Or a possible spy. 

“What?” he asked, his brow furrowing.

“Edith has the ring. YN’s powers sensed it,” Stella explained.

“It’s in her house,” you added. “And unless you know how to break into a house tonight and not raise any suspicions with Edith, go ahead and say so.

Loki let out an exhale. His face relaxed.

“Oh…well then… we got lucky. Too lucky. To think me and the variants did all of that foolish searching when our dear, fair ladies walked right into it!” he commented.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The invitations arrived on notes the color of snow. The days seemed long and slow before the evening of the fateful dinner party arrived. Five of you, it was noted, all had similar faces and voices, the variants all agreed to tell others that they were distant relations in case someone asked questions. The men donned evening tuxedos. You were in a rich, dark green gown, Stella her sky blue, and Sif one of wine red.

“I should go. I want to be in the search. And I don’t want to be stuck where it’s dull,” Sif insisted.

“I’ll go with you, you need my powers to find the ring. And if Grendel were to strike, he wouldn’t do it in the middle of a crowded party,” you nodded.

It was then decided. You and Sif would look, while the rest distracted the hosts and partygoers.

Your cabs pulled up to the house. As servants took your coats and escorted you inside, you noted the light wood, the grandfather clock and mirrors, and the elaborate glass windows. Warm, light, and sweet.

“One would think this is like a fairy house.,” Thomas commented, looking about.

There were footsteps and distant chatter of a few guests. Then in came Edith, dressed in a cream dress with ruffles at the long neck and sleeves.

“Oh! Our party! Hello- welcome!” she greeted.

All of you exchanged greetings and names, ever polite and gracious to the strangers in your party. She smiled at you and the ones she met, and then she shook hands with Hal, Jonathan, Robert…

She paused with Thomas, locking eyes with her. She partially froze. Her smile dropped. Then she found herself again, her eyes flicking down and then back up.

“And you, sir?” she asked.

“Sir Thomas Sharpe, esquire. And Miss Cushing- and I hear you are a talented writer, too, I presume?” he asked. He smiled back. But it was different than the merely happy-to-be-here-please-don’t-suspect-a-thing manners of the others. His eyes shined on her. 

“Yes..yes, I am,” she admitted shyly. Though you could see her cheeks were pink.

“And of ghost stories, I heard?” he added.

“Oh- yes, that is my specialty,” she answered. She beamed at him like there was no one else in the party.

“Well then, I have a particular fondness for them. You must promise to let me read it, and if not- then tell me every last little detail about it,” he said.

She nodded and said she would. Then the door opened with a couple that just came in and she excused herself to greet them, but not before looking at Thomas one last time.

“Ah, the large party,” said a baritone voice.

There entered an older man, tall and broad with an impressive, grey beard. He smiled at each of you. But he turned to you, Sif, and Stella first.

“And you three are the ones who defended my daughter against the notorious Mrs. McMichael, yes?” he asked.

“Yes, we were the ones present,” you answered.

“Well then, I will always offer my warmest gratitude. Mrs. McMichael is fond of kicking the hornet's nest, we shall say,” he replied. 

He reached out his hand and you shook it, his skin calloused. “I am Mr. Cushing.”

Edith led you down the short hall to the dining room. There were lit candles everywhere, making the scene lush and romantic. The table was set with a white cloth and vases of flowers and candelabras. The place was decorated with tall china cabinets, a stone fireplace, and a wall with tall windows. Appetizers were served on porcelain.  Water was served in one glass and wine in another. 

You waited through the courses. Engaging in topics as they came and went. The men seemed to all be doing fine. Though there were a few odd questions about the “business trip” and how they were related, Loki came up with lies on the spot to satisfy them. Sif held her posture uptight and helped herself to the main course, eating heartily and quickly. Stella cut up her chicken into small bits and always smiled.  Edith and Thomas exchanged several glances and smiles, even when others were talking.

“Why, this is such a beautiful place, Miss Cushing! And what an elegant cake!” Stella praised as dessert arrived.

“Oh, thank you. The cook has never failed us once. Wait until you try a bite!” Edith said.

Taking in a deep breath, you calmed yourself. You made your jaw unclench and relaxed your shoulders. Focusing on the blank white of the tablecloth, you reached out your senses.

Ignoring the sounds of eating and sipping, the whispering of servants, you focused on the ring. Something was pulling you above the stairs. Edith’s bedroom was down that hall. It poked at you like an insistent child.

But where exactly was-

“And Mrs Laufeyson, how did you meet your husband?” asked Mr. Cushing.

Snapping back to the present, you looked up and smiled.

“Oh…I was dreadfully ill. And he heard of me and offered his help to make sure I had medical care. He saved my life…”

You turned to Loki.

“And not just my body, far more than that” she replied.

Loki sat up, his jaw a little loose. Then he smiled.

“Oh, how romantic!’ cried one guest.

Taking a bite of cake, you found it was layered, delicate, and sweet. 

Slices were eaten and servants cleared plates. Some ladies went to one parlor and the men were trickling to another, but there were exceptions. Edith and Thomas were by the fire, talking and chatting- you even saw Edith laugh lightly. It was Jonathan who walked up to the host himself, Mr. Cushing, and was asking him about his business. Loki was beside him, in case any gaps needed filling. The rest of the men had the other variants, content to drink brandy and smoke, and seem innocent. Stella was listening intently to old ladies gossip, as they led her to the drawing room.

Loki then went up to you.

“Ah, and is it time?” he asked.

“Yes, it is,” you answered him quietly.

You shared a look at Sif. She nodded her head. 

Both of you walked over to a far corner.

Loki raised his hand and two duplicates of you both appeared. Your husband smirked.

“Ah, now two of my lovely wife? Our nights could become a lot more interesting…” he whispered.

“Oh, stop it!” you teased.

He raised an eyebrow.

“But would you like a duplicate of me? Hm? To have two of your trickster god worshiping you at once? Pleasuring you until you couldn’t remember your name?” he whispered.

Feeling your toes curl in your shoes, you lightly swatted his arm.

“If my husband could control his lust for one hour, we have a ring to find,” you reminded him.

He gave you a wink, and then walked away with the duplicates to join the other men.

Making sure your steps were light, you both picked up your skirts and scurried up the steps. The servants were too busy with the party to take note. But you couldn’t waste time before one of them saw something.

You quickened to Edith’s room at the end of the hall. Reaching out your hand, you made sure it unlocked and got inside.

Turning around, you made sure the door was quietly closed and locked.

It was dark from the night, and full of books and childhood toys. Both of you eyed around.

“Use your gifts, find where it is!” Sif insisted.

Taking in another breath, you readied yourself. Ready to reach out your gifts and-

The door creaked open.

Both of you turned around.

The door opened by itself. The door handle still clicking up and down. It was a warm night and warm from the many people. But the room itself had turned cold. Uncomfortably cold.

“What-what is that?” you asked. Feeling the color drain from your face.

“The windows are closed- there is no wind” observed Sif. 

A figure emerged at the end of the hall, hidden by the shadows.

A servant? No-this wasn’t a servant. It was a tall figure, dressed in black with a long, black veil as if in mourning. But there were no widows in the party guests, much less one dressed like that.

The woman moved over.

No- she didn’t move…

She glided over.

In a heartbeat, there was a gust of cold wind and she flew over. Her veiled face, you realized, was nothing more than a pitch-black skull. Hollow eye sockets. Black pitch dripped over her skeletal features.

She let out a scream before either of you could.

The specter flew over and grabbed you both by each arm. Reaching out, you saw her hands were only bones. Her touch was so cold, it numbed your skin. She shook both of you.

“THIEVES! THEIVES! THEIVES!” she screeched. 

She threw both of you. You and Sif hit a wall and then fell onto the floor. You let out a sound despite yourself, catching yourself onto the rug below.

Sif reached her hand and put it over your mouth. 

“If you scream, the servants and guests will come up,” she argued.

You had to bite your tongue. The lights in the room flickered on and off rapidly. The temperature was freezing in that room, and the specter pointed a bony finger toward you.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE? STAY AWAY FROM HER! BURGLARS! THEIVES!” the spectre hissed.

You removed Sif’s hand, though kneeling, you were shaking. Books toppled from a bookshelf and papers on a desk flew about.

“Who are you? Are allied with Grendel?” you asked in a quiet voice.

The Spectre did not react. She only kept screeching.

“DO NOT LAY A HAND ON HER! BURGLAR!”

Sif unsheathed her sword.

“Grendel, no doubt. Something of his,” she muttered.

Sif ran forward, and with a grunt, she stabbed the woman through the stomach.

But there was no blood. And the specter did not budge. She did not seem the least bit hurt in any way.

She let out another scream- an ugly sound, like a broken sob, one that almost tore you.

Sif’s jaw hung open in surprise. The specter grabbed Sif by the throat.

“DO-NOT-TOUCH-HER!” it warned.

Sif struggled and tried to loosen, but the specter held on tight.

The memories of Edith at the cafe went back to you. It made sense- Edith saw a ghost when she was very young…she must have seen it here…it must have been right after…after she lost…

Everything made sense.

With shaky legs, you got back up and stated.

“I know who you are…you’re Mrs. Cushing- you’re Edith’s mother!” you declared.

The ghost paused, turning her skeletal face to you. The wind in the room vanished.

“We are not here to hurt your daughter- and that is my friend. We are here to help her, please let her go,” you asked.

The ghost released her skeletal hand. Sif fell to the floor, coughing and gasping in the air. You rushed forward and helped her.

“There is a ring Edith has…and it’s one of Grendel’s. It looks like this…” you began. From your pocket, you got out the copy.

The ghost looked at it.

“Do you know who Grendel is? His mortality is stuck in a few items. Including a ring like this. If he remains in power…he could hurt Edith. If we find the ring and destroy it, then he’ll be destroyed…Please…you only want to protect her. That’s why you were always watching over her, all that time she thought she was alone…and she was not. Could you help us?”

The ghost looked at you. It exhaled, the shadows around it flittering.

She took her finger and pointed to a chest. A drawer opened. And out floated a locked box. It unlocked and then floated over to your hands.

Looking inside were a few jewelry items…including that very ring.

You looked up at her.

“Thank you,” you said.

Sif plucked out the ring. You replaced it with the duplicate ring, setting in within the few earrings and trinkets.

The small box floated up, locked, and then was put in the drawer, where it shut.

The ghost let out another sound, like an exhale and a moan. The papers shuddered again and the grandfather in the clock rang the hour.

Then the shadows vanished, as did the ghost. Warmth returned to the room again, as did the light.

You cupped your mouth again, catching your breath.

“Oh…oh gods…” you whispered.

Sif pocketed the ring. Without saying a word, she looked at you and grabbed your hand.

“Hurry, princess,” she urged.

Both of you shuffled at once out of the room. Downstairs, the party remained as normal. It was as if no one heard any screams or rattling coming from upstairs.

Steps light, desperate to escape the scene, both you and Sif hurried out of the room. Your feet light. So there wasn’t a rumble as you went across the hall. Down the stairs. Squeezing your eyes shut to concentrate, you signaled Loki.

“We have it! Send the duplicates!”

Sure enough, your duplicates turned a corner of a wall outside of the parlor. You both walked over. They vanished like mist. 

You took their places and walked in. Sipping coffee with the other ladies making idle chatter. Stella glanced at you both. You gave her a smile and a nod and her shoulders relaxed.

Drinking your tepid coffee, you let out an exhale as if to wash away everything that happened.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You both staid for two more days to avoid suspicion.  But on the last day, Edith hurried to your hotel. She embraced you and Stella warmly, (though Sif seemed a little stiff as she did). The other gentlemen nodded.

“May I…may I write, please? I would like to hear from you…all of you,” Edith said,her eyes glancing to Thomas and then back. You felt bad for her, the poor girl would be at the mercy of the McMichaels again. 

“We will. We’ll visit too if we can,” you promised her. 

Thomas then stepped forward, his eyes wide and hopeful.

“May I have the pleasure of writing to you as well, Miss Cushing?” he asked.

She jumped at first. Her jaw lowered briefly, and then she smiled.

“Why- Yes, please,” she answered.

He took her hand and kissed it. You could feel the fluttering from Edith herself. Hal cocked an eyebrow, but Robert rolled his eyes.

Once she left, Jonathan made sure your keys were all returned. Loki took a hand and flicked open a portal.

One down, three more to go you silently counted out. But perhaps more than just ghosts awaited the next one. Things even worse…

[cowbot-lumberjane]

Connection: Established

>What does it feel like? 

“It feels… heavy. Like my entire body is made of concrete but moves just fine. What does it feel like for you?”

>Processing query… Natural. I have never known any other form of being. 

“Fair, dumb question I guess. Your turn.”

>Why do you stay?

“What do you mean?” >The role of a pilot is dangerous, and at times has been called things like “suicidal” and “hellish”. I assume this is due to the augmentation process as well as the missions you are deployed on. You have been offered transfer on multiple occasions, why do you stay?

The pilot’s brow furrowed in thought at the question. She hadn’t assumed the machine had known about the offers, or that it had thought much about it. The fact that it thought at all still rattled her some. Who else knew? Did it talk to the repair crew? What about the other machines? Her eyes scanned the bay as she tried to let an answer form, catching on the details of the machine’s “siblings” that sat still on their repair racks. Finally she managed to speak, though what came out was perhaps a bit more honest than she had cared to be during their other late night talks.

“I stayed for you.”

>....

“Are you alright?”

>...For me?

Its words were different this time. She could almost hear a tinge of longing through the soft crackle of the cockpit speakers. Suddenly feeling a bit more timid about her admittance, she lifted her hands away from where they had rested on the controls. 

“Yeah, for you. Is, that okay?”

>I do not understand. Lights across the control console flickered their dull orange as it spoke in a tone more human than she’d heard before. 

>I am a machine. A tool. A weapon. Why risk your life for what is replaceable?

“Replaceable? Aw come on now.” She knocked a hand into the metal walls that encompassed her. “You know damn well we’re a team. I don’t think I could ever get used to drivin’ another vanguard. Besides… I uh, I like you.”

>In what way?

A good question. She’d thought a lot about it in recent weeks. How could she describe it? How could she possibly begin to say that the only time she felt alive was when the augments in her skull connected with the machine’s neural computers? Or how that she only ever felt like a person when addressed as part of their pairing?

“I uh… I dunno… I guess I just feel a connection with you… Y’know….?”

>... I believe so.

Her hand reached up behind her head to feel at the access port melded to the flesh on the back of her neck. Each time she readjusted in the pilot’s seat she could feel every inch of titanium running along her spine, every neural wire in her arms. The soft hum of the machine’s cable connected at the base of her skull was a warmth she would never know with another person, if she could consider herself one. Her mind drew inward, deeper into the simulated consciousness the two shared between them. Slowly the walls of the cockpit fell away one by one until she was left staring up at a burning manifestation of the weapon’s own mind. It floated unflinchingly in the cybernetic void around her making the simulated air crackle with electricity. Her own visage reached out a hand and when her palm was pressed firmly against the white hot energy of the fission-powered tool of war she could feel every memory wash over at once. Her skin crawled outside the simulation, legs writhing as her breath grew ragged and heavy. Each breath tasted like the battlefield. Like gunpowder and heavy-class tonnage. Fire and smoke and steel and white hot bursts of energy stung at her lungs with each gasp. 

The machine’s own feedback was of similar magnitude. Within the metal housings and endless clusters of wires and computers something primordial stirred as the two melded into each other. Soft whirring rang out from its gigantic head as vents on its back opened to dump excess heat, and its hands clenched slowly, servos humming quietly in the otherwise empty launch bay. The pilot’s movements within it were slow and sensual. Eyes hidden behind her helmet but mouth hanging firmly agape as her hands caressed the link nodes along the machine’s internal controls. It had never felt anything like this without her. It wasn’t sure if its siblings were capable of such things, it did not understand what it meant to relate or be social. But it understood her. It understood the feeling of her scarred hands delicately touched along the control sticks and lines of power switches. Within the simulation there were no longer two entities. Where they had stood facing each other now was only the one, the culmination, the zenith. 

The pilot could feel her body convulse slightly as the meld completed. Despite her years of training and successful augmentations she never quite got used to the feeling of neural-fluid entering her system. She was unable to speak now, not out loud anyway. All that resounded as the cockpit slowly closed and locked with a soft hiss where latent whimpers from her corporeal form. As one they moved their arms carefully in front of the hulking chassis and locked their hands together. Perhaps it looked odd to anyone who witnessed it on the outside, if anyone was even around this time of night. A war machine holding hands with itself as the pilot inside felt a body-shocking sense of pure euphoria and an ecstasy unmatched by any true physical sensation. Inside the cockpit the viewscreens did not flicker to life. Instead the pilot’s waves of tension and release were only shown in the soft orange glow of status lights and digital readout displays. Sound within the small space would not echo the outside world either, her moaning now entirely enclosed only for the two of them to hear. 

Within their melded mind they spoke not as a soldier and its weapon, not even as human and machine. Between augmentation and the complete intermingling of consciousness neither could truly be described as either, but something entirely new. Something that had proved itself time and time again across countless battles and hundreds of slain enemies. Together they would stand and fall as one as the words filled every space within the endless simulation. 

>”I love you.”

[slylock-syl]

Alright, back kind of. After having been really busy with school, the holidays, and stuff. So meant to say this a bit ago, but when you said u were starting a side story that people have been wanting, I had guessed maybe we could get some stuff about Maecros' home world (been wanting for this, since I saw all those designs u did for characters and stuff. And the stuff we have learned about Maestro, his homeworld, family, etc.), but the Lost Soul: Sweetie has been cool too! 1/?.

Welcome back!~

Those posts featuring characters from Necros' home world were from a live event I host on my Discord during that time! It was a very lore-filled live storytelling with activities and the audience could decided where they wanted to go, with some minor QnA segments with the characters. The entire event is still archived on the Discord for anyone who may want to revisit it~ I'm hoping to be able to convert it to a comic one day, with some adjustments to closing the fourth wall ofc XD

Maestro's worldbuilding is still fairly few and far between so far, and I'm also hoping to give him a proper due eventually, I just don't know when that would be yet X'D

I'm glad you're liking the side story so far!~ It took some rewrites to get to somewhere I was happy with, but I think it's in a good place~

I don't wanna say too much obviously, but I like the thought process!

Once the side story ends I'll likely do another scheduled week break just to make sure everything's ready for Chapter 8~ It's still in the works cuz I've officially entered Rewrite Hell territory, but I've got many ideas rattling around in the ol' skull and I'm hoping to do them justice! So I hope people like what I (eventually) have planned! :D

Wild to think overall I've made around 1000 comic pages total! It seems so daunting to work up to a number that high, it somehow feels like we got there so quickly despite being 8 years running so far! I guess it's better not to think about that much future work all at once XD

Merry Early Christmas and Happy Holidays! ✨

[theboywithburninghands]

Okay. Executive decision. Posting the first chapter of my two-parter here, because I'm loaded with caffeine and I want you guys to see what I've been up to all week. Uh it's pure Funnybunny, so sorry if you wanted some Ragatha romance stuff... Uhhhhhh also like... it's a bit long? And character driven rather than romance driven. Hope you like it anyway! Oh and I'm linking the AO3 if you'd prefer that. T/W: Mild cartoon violence, self hatred, a sex joke

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55822147/chapters/141729268

Like Rhinestones, Falling From the Sky (Part 1)

he grounds of the Digital Circus had two states. Daytime and sunny, nighttime and clear. It was a constant that no one bothered to disturb. Caine could grant a lot of requests around the circus, but rarely in any way the asker might want. Ask for a few wildflowers to add some color on the grounds? Congratulations, now there was an entire field of flowers, flowers that smelled like cheap, nose-tickling perfume and grew so thick and snared that it was impossible to walk around outside. Ask for a cool, dim day because you wanted a nap? Hey presto, now the entire circus was engulfed in an impenetrable fog that made Silent Hill look like the Aouzou Strip. The performers all followed the same motto when it came to the weather:

If it’s already broken, don’t break it any more. 

Due to this motto being in place, it was a complete mystery as to why all the performers were shaken awake early one morning by a skull-rattling crash of thunder. 

Kinger was the first out of his room, bursting through his door with a melodramatic wail.

“They’ve finally arrived! The harvest has commenced! They want ALL of our garmonbozia!!!”

Zooble was out of their room next, screwing their head back on their torso and limping over to the eldest performer.

“Relax! Chill the f#%@ out, old timer, it’s just thunder.” they snapped, still not quite awake. 

As if on cue, another rapturous tremor of thunder tore through the air, Ragatha emerging from her room and staring worriedly at the ceiling before joining the group.

“Are you guys okay? That’s some crazy weather we’re-“

Ragatha let out an “eep!” as Kinger seized her by the front of the dress.

“Ragatha! We’re under attack! What’s Morse code for SOS?!”

Ragatha gently took hold of Kinger’s wrists and guided them off of her dress. She smiled and her voice took on a warm, fuzzy tone. 

“Hey… no one is attacking us, Kinger. It’s probably been ages since you’ve heard a thunderstorm, hasn’t it? There’s nothing to be afraid of.” she cooed.

“Unless that’s what they want you to think.” came a slippery voice from behind her. Jax leaned against the wall, one foot flat against it. He sported a tired but nonetheless smug grin. 

“Jax, quit it. Can’t you see he’s scared?” Ragatha chided, but Jax continued as if she hadn’t spoken, walking right up to Kinger. 

“Who knows, maybe they’re after your bug collection, Kinger, or- OW!”

Zooble silenced Jax with a single, well aimed punch to the cheek. 

“Can you shut up? It’s too early for your schoolyard bull#%&$.” Zooble drawled. 

Jax massaged his cheek and gave a petulant “Jeez…” under his breath. Pomni was out of her room next, stirred from sleep like the rest of them. Her black eyelids hung over her eyes like an eclipse, and she dragged her body over to the others as if it had weights tied to it. 

“Hey, morning, Sunshine!” Jax smirked, a hand still on the cheek Zooble punched.

“Go #%&$ yourself…” Pomni mumbled, staring off into the void. 

“YEESH, everyone is crabby this morning. I can’t even say hello withou-“

KRK-BOOOOOOOMMMM!

A peal of thunder like a boulder tumbling into a dump truck shook the air again, everyone instinctively covering their ears (or where their ears should have been.)

“Okay, we should see what’s going on! Maybe it’s part of a new adventure..?” Ragatha proposed as soon as the rumbling subsided. 

“Wait! Where’s Gangle?!” Kinger cried.

There was a soft click as the door to Gangle’s room was opened just a crack, the ribbon girl peering just one eye out and trembling like a leaf. 

“What’s happening…?” she mewled. 

Zooble pressed their foot on top of Jax’s to keep him from speaking up. 

“It’s just a storm, Gangle… We’re gonna go see what’s going on. You wanna come with?” Ragatha smiled and approached Gangle’s door, offering a hand. Gangle gulped and took Ragatha’s hand with one of her ribbons.

“Okay…” she whimpered. 

Jax made a “gag me” motion but remained quiet. 

The six performers headed out into the main room, nearly tumbling onto the chessboard floor from another apocalyptic boom of thunder.

“Does this sort of thing ever happen out of nowhere..?!” Pomni shouted, her crabbiness from lack of sleep bubbling over.

“Didn’t you hear Caine when you first got here? ‘THE AMAZING DIGITAL CIRCUS IS A PLACE WHERE ANYTHING CAN HAPPEN!’ Chaos is sorta par for the course.” Jax replied. His impression of Caine was actually pretty good, and might have made Pomni smirk a bit if she wasn’t so irritable. 

“Jax is right,” Ragatha chimed in from further ahead. “Around here you have to expect the unexpected, and prepare for what isn’t there.” 

“Yeah, but the way I said it wasn’t stupid.” Jax replied. 

The six of them reached the tent’s exit. It was zipped closed, but quavered feverishly. A small pool of rainwater oozed through the bottom of the flap, occasionally lit bright pearly blue by unseen flashes of lightning from outside. 

“Okay, so it’s definitely storming. Now we know.” Jax drawled, crossing his arms. 

“See Kinger? No one is coming, it’s just bad we-“

Another tremendous crash of thunder interrupted Ragatha, and a half-second later, all of the lights in the tent sputtered and died. The only light left was the heavily censored sunlight from outside filtering under the tent flap. 

“I f#%&$ng hate it here…” Zooble sighed. 

“Okay, no one wander off. Let’s all stick together and find our way back to our rooms…” Ragatha began.

Gangle jolted with a yelp. “Someone grabbed me!”

“Jax!” Zooble growled.

“It wasn’t me! I’m all the way back here, Hodge-Podge!” Jax retorted from the darkness. 

“It was me, Gangle! I grabbed your hand…” Ragatha interjected. “I’m sorry, I thought you would need a hand to hold.”

“Tha-That’s not my hand-”

The performers squinted as a corona of light bloomed in the middle of the room. From the center of the ring, Bubble appeared, glowing with an iridescent, rainbow colored light.

“And God said, let there be LIGHT!” he announced, his squeaky voice echoing throughout the tent.

“DON’T BE RIDICULOUS BUBBLE! IF ANYONE’S GOD AROUND HERE, IT’S YOURS TRULY!” Caine floated down from on high, emitting his own faint light, just enough so he could be seen clearly against the backdrop of darkness. 

“There is no God here…” Zooble muttered.

“Amen.” added Pomni.

“SO MY LITTLE SUPERSTARS! IT SEEMS YOU’VE ALL BEEN MADE AWARE OF OUR INCLEMENT WEATHER!” Caine unzipped the tent entrance. The sky was charcoal black and arcing with threads of lightning. Rain slashed across the grounds in great sweeps and the howling wind eagerly pushed its way into the tent, bringing in a spray of raindrops that doused the six performers, who covered their faces and demanded Caine close the tent again, which he thankfully did after just a few seconds.

“BUT NOT TO WORRY! WHILE I FIX THIS BROUHAHA, YOU ALL-”

He paused for another crash of thunder. 

“-YOU ALL WILL BE ENJOYING AN ADVENTURE!” 

“La dee da.” Jax drawled.

“SO, PLEASE ENJOY YOUR TIME IIIIN-”

Caine snapped his fingers. There was a moment or two of silence before Caine looked down at his fingers and snapped once again. Then again. 

“Huh. That was supposed to open a portal.” Caine said sheepishly. 

“Did you try turning it off and on again?” Bubble asked, squinting one eye.

“Havin’ issues there, Caine? It’s alright, it happens to guys your age.” Jax said with a grin. Pomni felt the corners of her mouth raise, despite herself. 

“I DON’T APPRECIATE YOUR INNUENDO, JAX!” Caine declared, brandishing his cane with a trembling hand. He tried a few more futile finger snaps. 

“So, we’re stuck here..?” Gangle asked, wringing her ribbons together. “In the dark..?”

There was an ill-timed crash of thunder that made her jump and squeak a little too loudly. She covered up her mask as bright pink blush marks formed under her eyes.

“Yeah, I’m with Ribbons, Caine,” Jax said, jabbing a thumb at Gangle. “Everybody knows monsters like the dark since it’s easier to hide.”

“Okay, cut the Twilight Zone bull$#!%.” Zooble scoffed.

“As someone who’s actually seen The Twilight Zone,” Ragatha piped up. “The quote is ‘There’s nothing in the dark that wasn’t there when the lights were on.’ So we’re fine, Gangle. It’s just us.” 

“Nerd.” Jax replied.

In the midst of this whole exchange, Caine had snapped his fingers a good two dozen times before clapping his hands to his face/teeth and bellowing in frustration. 

“Excusemeforjustonesecond!” he spat before disappearing in a flash of light and some confetti. Bubble looked around, barely managing a “Bye-!” before popping, dousing the light and plunging the room back into darkness.

There was a moment or two of silence before another peal of thunder shook the tent. Gangle let out a quiet, uneasy groan as everyone tried to get their bearings in an almost total absence of light. 

“I’m going back to bed.” Zooble announced flatly. The only indication that they were leaving was the sound of careful footsteps receding into the black.

“Wait, can you find your way there?” Pomni asked. 

“I’ll figure it out.” Zooble replied, nothing but a voice from the darkness. Pomni listened to their receding footsteps before she began to pace back and forth. 

“I can’t believe it, he just left us here. Not even a flashlight! Isn’t this place supposed to be magic?! How does the power even go out?!”

“It is the first time I’ve ever seen this happen since I’ve been here…” Ragatha admitted. “What about you, Kinger? You ever seen anything like this?”

“Right now I don’t see much of anything…” Kinger replied matter-of-factly. 

Another roar of thunder, Gangle making an unhappy noise and clinging to Ragatha. Since it was dark, Jax couldn’t see, and thus couldn’t tease her for it. Ragatha patted her on the mask. 

“I don’t want to go off by myself… What if something happens?” she whimpered.

“Come on, Crybaby, you’re not seriously worried about monsters, are ya?” Jax drawled. 

“You’re the one that put the thought into her head, Jax.” Pomni replied. 

“I was joking .” Jax snarked, as if it was the most obvious fact since “water happened to be a little damp.”

“Jokes are supposed to be funny.”

“Yeah?” Jax’s tone darkened. “Well unfortunately, Clownface , the funny guy-”

They were interrupted by a dry, metallic scratch and a spark of orange light. Kinger held a silver lighter in his hand, which supported a tiny yellow-orange flame. 

“…That’s my lighter.” Jax said after a moment. “Where did you get my lighter?!”

“Wait, Jax, why do you have a lighter at all?” Ragatha interjected. 

“None of your business. You need to stay outta my stuff, Hoo-Hah.” Jax took a few steps towards Kinger. 

“I only found it.” Kinger said, taking an equal number of steps back.

“Bull. I don’t leave my stuff layin’ around. Hand it over.” Jax stuck a gloved hand out. 

Kinger looked down at the lighter, then to Jax, who put his hand forward more insistently. Kinger snapped the lighter closed, smothering the fire and disappearing into darkness. 

“Hey! Where’d you go?!” 

“Kinger, wait! We need the light! Don’t go!” Gangle begged. 

There was a grunt and a crash somewhere in the dark, the thunder replying in kind. Another dry, metallic scratch and Kinger reappeared, illuminated orange and standing over by Gangle and Ragatha. 

“What was that?!” he cried, stiffly holding the flame out in front of him. 

“It was me, you moron!” Jax’s irritated voice called out from somewhere in the void. “I couldn't see my hand in front of my face! Now hand over my lighter before I-”

Kinger yelped and snapped the lighter closed again.

“Both of you, stop it!” Pomni shouted. “Jax, I don’t give a $#!% if it’s yours or not, it’s all we’ve got for light right now, so quit acting like a p&!€# for two god&@#% seconds! Kinger!” 

They heard the jester take a breath and soften her voice. 

“Kinger. We need the lighter to see. Can you please turn it back on so we can at least get back to our rooms?”

There was a pause, another rumble of thunder, and at last, a metallic flick as the lighter sparked again. Kinger’s hands shook. 

“Thank you…” Pomni said with a weary smile. “Lead the way, if you don’t mind.”

The five performers made their way towards backstage, slowly and methodically in the cavernous tent. They passed an overturned pile of brightly colored shapes, Jax delivering a well aimed punt to a mint-colored cylinder, which sailed off into the darkness and landed out of sight with a drumroll of thuds. 

“Was that the thing you tripped over?” Ragatha asked, her smile audible in her voice. 

“Felt like kickin’ something.” Jax replied tartly. 

After a few minutes of careful maneuvering amidst peals of thunder, the five of them made it to the corridor backstage.

“Well… what do we do now..?” Pomni asked.

“Do we have to do anything?” Jax replied.

“Well… not really. But I think it might be fun to have a slumber party!” Ragatha said brightly. 

“No offense, Ragatha, but I don’t know if any of us are really in a party mood…” Pomni said, rubbing her left arm with her right hand. 

“No, no, it doesn’t have to be an actual party. We can all just hang around in my room! I’ve got some candles we can light so we can see, and I’ll teach you guys how to make a blanket fort-” 

“You have candles?” Pomni interrupted. “Oh, that’s really good news… Now we don’t have to sit around in the dark. How many do you have, Ragatha?”

“Oh gosh, um…” Ragatha rubbed her chin with her hand. “30? No, 40!” 

There was a period of silence. Kinger held the lighter out so she was illuminated. 

“What?” Ragatha asked, putting her hands on her hips defensively. “I need to de-stress every once in a while too, y’know!” 

“If the tent ever burns down, we know who to blame.” Jax quipped. 

“Oh stop it!” Ragatha flapped her hand dismissively.

“Can… we have a few? Just to have a little bit of light around here…” Pomni asked, touching the tips of her fingers together. 

“Yeah! Absolutely, come on!” Ragatha led her fellow performers to her room, unlocking the door with a bit of flourish and motioning them inside. “After you!” 

The four of them entered her room, Kinger leading the way with the lighter. Ragatha’s bedroom was… on brand. In the dim light, they could make out some plastic furniture that would have been right at home in a dollhouse. A pink, squat tea table surrounded by some plush and frilly cushions. The table came complete with an old fashioned white China teapot and cups, a glazed pink and yellow flower painted on the side of the pot, and the rims of both the cups and pot were lined with gold leaf (or at least a serviceable imitation of it). In the opposite corner, a CRT television sat within a yellow floral patterned hutch, and a game console was hooked up to it. Her bed sat neatly made on the far end of the room, a canopy like Pomni’s, although striped with magenta and cotton-candy pink rather than red and blue. At the food of the bed sat at least a dozen stuffed animals, a teddy bear, a camel, a tiger, and more, all in a neat pile. While they should have looked cute and inviting in the light, in the near dark, they looked uncanny. Their shoebutton eyes caught the flame’s reflection in such a way that made them look insectoid, and their vacant, pleasant expressions staring off into nothing gave off the impression of someone who had lost their mind gazing into the abyss. 

Ragatha hurried over to the hutch, opening a drawer and taking out a brand new white candle. 

“Here’s my stash,” she chuckled, rummaging around in the drawer a bit more. “I have a couple that are scented too. Do you guys like… apple cinnamon or toasted marshmallow more? I’m more of a sandalwood gal myself…”

Jax made a noise of disgust. Kinger stared intently at a stuffed elephant, as if waiting for it to blink. 

“Nanny cam…?” he whispered to himself. 

There was a crash of thunder and everyone jolted. Gangle covered the top of her mask with her ribbons and Kinger fumbled with the lighter, managing to keep hold of it. 

“Good thing you have that, Jax. I just ran out of matches…” Ragatha sighed, setting up a neat cluster of candles 

“Okay, um, I think we should use a couple to light the hallway, if it’s okay with you…at least until Caine fixes things.” Pomni said. “Um, and if I could borrow one or two for my room-”

“Me too please.” Gangle chimed in, raising a ribbon. 

“I need to get my camping stove…” Kinger muttered, still engaged in a stare-off with Ragatha’s stuffed elephant. 

“K-Kinger, you have a camping stove?” Pomni asked. 

“The h@!! do you need one of those for?” Jax also asked, crouching beside Kinger to see what was so interesting about that and stuffed animal. 

“…In case the power goes out.” Kinger replied after a moment.

“This is the first time the power has ever gone out…” Ragatha admitted, but she smiled anyway. “I’m glad you’ve been thinking ahead though.”

Ragatha then gasped. “Oh! We can make tea! I have the best recipe I need to show you guys! It’s perfect for a day like today!”

“I’d like some tea. Something warm to drink would really hit the spot.” Pomni said with a faint smile. Gangle also nodded. 

“Hey, I got a suggestion too.” Jax called, raising a finger. 

In one swoosh, Jax snatched the lighter out of Kinger’s hands, closing it with a clink and extinguishing their one source of light. 

“Jax, hey! I can’t see!” complained Ragatha.

“My lighter, my rules. I’m heading back to my room.” he said.

“What…? Jax, you’re kidding. We need the lighter for just a little longer, then it’s all yours.” Ragatha insisted. 

“It’s already all mine. You stole it. So now I’m keeping it.” Jax replied from somewhere in the dark. 

“Jax, come on!” Pomni shouted. “Everyone could have light again if you would just-”

“Everyone will have light again when Caine gets the electricity working. Just be patient.” 

“But… But Jax…” Gangle began, her voice quavering. “I’m… I’m scared of the dark, please just let us light a few candles…”

“Nope. Your eyes should adjust soon enough.”

The sound of Jax’s retreating footsteps and the open and shut of the door were muffled by another churning rumble of thunder. Ragatha sighed from her place in the dark. 

“Well, don’t worry everyone. We can have a slumber party even in the dark. It’ll take a bit more time to set up and we can’t do as much, but-”

Everyone jumped at a sudden angry yell and thunk. Pomni punched the wall, then felt her way towards the door, throwing it open and stomping out into the hallway. 

“Pomni’s very angry.” Kinger said in a hushed voice. Ragatha set her candles down on the hutch, a few of them rolling off and clattering to the floor as she carefully made her way to her door in almost complete darkness.

“Pomni? Pomni, where are you going?” she called out into the hall. 

It wasn’t too difficult for Pomni to find Jax’s door feeling around in the dark, it was right across from her room, after all. Her right hand aching from punching the wall, she banged on his door with her left. 

“JAX! GET OUT HERE!” she bellowed. 

“Pomni, hey, it’s okay-!” Ragatha insisted, alarmed at the newest member’s sudden explosion of rage. 

“NO! No, it’s not okay! I’m sick to death of him acting like this! It ends right the #%@& now, you hear me?!”

Pomni shouted all this as she feverishly twisted the handle of Jax’s locked door. After several mighty turns, she scoffed and took a few steps back. 

“You wanna hide like a coward? Fine!” 

“What’s going on?!” Zooble’s voice shouted. They had poked their head into the hallway after hearing the racket outside. 

Pomni took another couple steps back until she was almost touching the opposite wall, then ran forward, barging Jax’s door with her shoulder. Thunder roared. 

“Pomni!” Ragatha cried, her voice cracking. “Pomni, what are you doing?! Are you okay?!”

Pomni took the same number of steps backwards and ran forward, smashing into the door again, eliciting a splintery crunch from the jamb. She backed up once again, both her right shoulder and right knuckle ached now, but she barely felt it. Truth be told she couldn’t pinpoint just one reason why Jax’s behavior had enraged her so badly. She was angry from lack of sleep, she was angry that Jax was being such a selfish bully for no reason, she was angry that he had the capacity for kindness and yet chose to act like this- 

Her rage burned blue-hot as she charged at the door, bracing her shoulder for impact. The impact never came. She sailed right past the point where she should have met hard wood, stumbling forward into a boneless somersault. She tumbled over herself and ended up in a sitting position. 

Jax’s room had incredibly faint daylight filtering in from his window. The sky was still the color of a dusty tire, mostly black with flecks of lights. Flashbulbs of lightning popped from within swollen thunderheads. 

Pomni heard the door shut behind her. In the faint light, she saw Jax turn the lock on his door before turning to look at her, arms crossed.

“You almost broke my door, newbie.” he said with almost parental condescension. 

Pomni didn’t say anything in return, only glaring. Anger prickled down her back. Thunder boomed. 

“You know what? Take it.” Jax took the lighter out of his pocket. It shined in the stormlight. “If you’re gonna throw such a hissy fit about something so tiny, you might as well have it so you don’t embarrass yourself more than you already have. Go on. I don’t want it anymore.” 

Jax held his hand out, the lighter on his palm. Pomni reared back and slapped his hand away, the lighter bouncing off the wall with a weighty thud, doing a few midair loops and finally skittering to a stop a few feet behind her.

“What the h@&&?! I gave you what-”

“SHUT UP!!!”

Pomni barked this order with such ferocity that Jax immediately fell silent. It seemed to have shocked the jester herself, as she took a moment to find her voice afterwards. 

“…Why? Why did you do that?” was all she managed to get out.

“I don’t like people touching my stuff.” came Jax’s reply. Despite his shock at being yelled at, he managed to keep his tone cool and even. There was a millisecond flash of lightning. Thunder rumbled.

“Not that. Just… why do you always..? I know you’re capable of being kind. I’ve seen it firsthand. They don’t do anything to you, Jax! So why do you just keep picking at everyone?”

“Because they let me.” 

Pomni felt her anger froth to the surface again. 

“Oh. OH. That makes perfect sense! So you’re cruel because you can be! Nice to know you’re just a sadist then! Ha! That saves me a lot of time, then! We’re through. Get outta my way.”

Pomni snatched the lighter off the ground and pushed past Jax.

“…I’m not a sadist.” he said without turning around. 

“You just said you’re cruel to people for fun. That’s the definition of a sadist!” Pomni unlocked the door to his room and placed her hand on the knob. 

“It’s not for fun.”

Her hand slid off the knob. There was a rolling growl of thunder. 

“So what is it then?!” Pomni turned back to Jax, walking up to him and poking him in the chest. “You keep changing your story! First it was ‘I want them to hate me instead of their situation,’ now it’s ‘I do it because I can.’ So what is it? Tell. Me. The. TRUTH.”

“You want the truth, huh?” Jax said. Half of his face was silhouetted in shadow, his tone steeped in frosty ire. 

“YES. Or you can forget about us. About all of this. It’ll be like we never met.” Pomni asserted. 

“FINE.” Jax hissed. He turned to the window, looking out on the maelstrom of clouds and wind and rain. Another blinding flash of lightning and grumble of thunder.

 “I… I hate myself.” 

For a good 10 seconds, the only sounds were that of the rain on the digital grass and the wind buffeting Jax’s window. 

“S-S-Say again?” Pomni finally asked.

“I hate myself.” Jax repeated, not taking his gaze off the storm. His affect was neutral, but his eyes were distant.

“You… hate yourself?” Pomni echoed. 

“Yeah.” 

The jester chewed on one of her gloves. A flicker of lightning and a softer, yet prolonged burble of thunder rolled across the grounds. She removed her glove from her teeth.

“How do I know that’s not a lie too?” she asked, looking intently at the floor. 

“It’s not.” Jax immediately replied. “I guess, just, believe me.”

Pomni continued chewing on one of her gloves. She jumped a little at an especially loud crack of thunder, but otherwise remained rooted to the spot. An excruciating minute passed.

“…Okay. You hate yourself.” Pomni finally conceded, throwing her arms out and letting her hands slap against her hips. “So?”

This query got Jax to turn towards Pomni. The icy glare on his face could have shriveled flowers. “The £@€# do you mean, ‘so?’” 

“Exactly what it sounds like.” Pomni shot back.

“So? You hate yourself so you treat everyone but me sometimes like trash?! What kind of excuse is that?”

The corner of Jax’s mouth twitched. She had prodded a nerve with that one. He turned back to the window, looking out on the storm-swept grounds. 

“Get outta my room.” he ordered.

“No.” Pomni said with a humorless laugh. “You seriously think I’m gonna go ‘Oh you poor baby, I didn’t know; all is forgiven?’ just because you said you hate yourself? It doesn’t work like that! I hate myself too and I don’t act a FIFTH as awful as you do!”

“What do you mean, you hate yourself..?” Jax demanded quietly. 

Pomni took a deep breath. Well, he had been honest with her. She waited for the latest boom of thunder to quiet down before continuing. 

“I don’t remember everything about outside… but I remember that before I came here I… I was alone. I never went out drinking or dancing; I had no one to go with. Hadn’t kept in touch with my college friends and didn’t associate with anyone at work. How could I? I never had anything to talk to my coworkers about, I never reacted right to anyone’s jokes, I only went to team building exercises if they were mandatory… But it wasn’t like they didn’t try! I got invited to dinner or to birthday parties, and I always said no, I was busy. You wanna know what I was doing?”

“Pomni-” Jax began 

“No! Ask me what I was doing!” 

Jax didn’t reply. Pomni finally shrugged after a moment and answered her own question with a phony smile.

“Nothing. £@€# all. I was doing sudoku, or watching a movie I had already seen, or scrolling on my phone in bed. And I hated myself for it! I would cry into my pillow, I was so lonely! I would tell myself how stupid, stupid, STUPID I was, and how I was an idiot who didn’t deserve friends! I had every opportunity to get out of the hole I dug for myself, and I didn’t, because I was scared they would hate me even more than I thought they already did.”

Pomni felt her anger rise once again.

“Uh huh. But guess what? I never picked on anyone. I never made anyone else feel worse! I hurt so badly some days I wanted to DIE and I still tried my best to smile and treat everyone around me like a PERSON! You hate yourself? SO F#%&ING WHAT?! That doesn’t give you the right to make everything around you worse!” 

Pomni panted, doubling over to catch her breath. She braced herself for some sort of projectile Jax might throw at her. Instead, he only stared at her before turning back to the window. Thunder rumbled. 

“I’m… sorry you hate yourself. Really. It’s the worst feeling. But it’d be so much better if you just… didn’t hurt people. Let them in and helped you heal. It’s what I needed, and now that I have friends…”

Pomni stopped herself. She stared down at the floor again. She hated eye contact already, eye contact after an argument was like staring at the sun.

“So… why do you hate yourself?” Pomni asked after some more silence. 

“What does it matter?” Jax replied. 

Pomni scoffed. “Don’t give me that. Has it occurred to you that I actually care about you? If I didn’t, why would I even be asking? Why would I have kissed you after you made me salmon a few nights ago? I like you, Jax. But you can be a real p&!@% sometimes, and that isn’t okay, even if your pain is real. Why do you hate yourself?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Jax said firmly. 

Pomni let out a protracted sigh, chewing on the finger of one of her gloves and looking down at the floor one last time before looking back up at Jax. He was looking out at the storm.

“Okay. Thanks for at least giving me a real answer. I’ll bring your lighter back in a bit.”

Pomni headed for the door once again. She felt a hand touch her shoulder and she practically jumped out of her skin with a sharp gasp. She whirled around and took a few steps back, Jax pulling his hand back in shock. 

“W-What?! Don’t… don’t touch me!” she snapped reflexively. 

“…I’m…” Jax began. 

Pomni crossed her arms and waited, looking everywhere but in Jax’s face. 

“…I’m…” he tried again. “I’m not being… I’m not just being difficult. I don’t remember.”

Pomni quirked an eyebrow. “Don’t remember what?” 

“Why. I don’t remember why I hate myself. It’s just gone. Poof, right along with my name.”

Pomni licked her lips. She was thirsty from all the shouting. 

“You’re… being serious right now? You aren’t just trying to weasel your way-”

“No. No, I’m- I’m totally serious.” 

Pomni managed to look into his eyes for a moment. They were big, but his pupils were tiny despite the extremely low light. Just the way he’d looked after she had seen him have a nightmare. Scared. 

“…That’s horrible.” Pomni said, looking away after she began to feel itchy. “I… can’t imagine how horrible it must be to hurt and not know why… like a pain in a phantom limb.” 

Jax didn’t say anything, looking back out at the window. Lightning flashed, a bright pink-white splinter across the clouds, and there was a tremulous rumble of thunder that followed. 

“But… you shouldn’t take it out on people. Even if it makes the pain stop. There are other things you can do…” Pomni added. “And… And I’m willing to listen to you whenever you’re hurting. Even if I’m hurting too.” 

Jax looked back at the jester, who immediately stared down at the floor. 

“Why? You barely know me. You said it was so hard to make friends back in the real world. What makes me so special?”

Pomni swallowed. She really needed something to drink. 

“I know. That it’s bizarre for me to like you when I’ve always had such a hard time. But… I want to help you anyway. Isn’t that weird?”

She managed a smile and to look him in the eyes again. Jax gave a short “heh…” and looked away this time. 

“Thanks, Pompom.” he said.

“Anytime, Bunny-Boy.” 

The two of them shared an awkward chuckle. Pomni cleared her throat.

“Um… do you want to come with me? I’m gonna go have tea with Ragatha and the others…”

“I think I’m okay…” Jax replied. 

“Jax, come on. It’ll be fun… Please?” 

Pomni offered a hand. 

“Alright, alright. But only ‘cause you said please.”

Jax took the jester’s hand, Pomni sparking the lighter and leading the way back to Ragatha’s bedroom.

[lunarleonardo]

Read all your fics over the span of about a week and my brain chemistry has been permanently altered. I cannot verbally articulate how much I love your writing <3<3

Wowie :O yeah I've written... WAY too much xD and I still have MORE in mind. Disconnected will be finished today, I'm beginning on the Kokichi whump fic which the first chapter will probably go up sometime tomorrow... not to mention the other like 4 other ideas rattling around in my skull that Im not writing right now cus i dont want to overwhelm myself. @_@; this is what happens when i'm given a creative outlet i suppose LOL

But also,, AAAA <3 Thank you!! Im glad you like my writing so much ♪ヽ(´▽｀)/ 💞💞

[youngbuckisms]

Hi I was wondering if you could do a reader and Darby allin and reader is at reader and Darby home watch an AEW Dynamite the reader is pregnant and then the reader goes into labor and then Darby tells Tony Khan that he wants to leave Dynamite to be able to be there when the baby is born?

sorry I don’t know if you wrote this kind of stuff

Wouldn’t Miss It For The World (reader x Darby Allin); drabble

Word count: I forgot

Warnings: pregnancy, going into labor

Notes: Never wrote a pregnancy drabble as far as I can remember, or really anything like this? So, I apologize if it’s not that great. Didn't proofread this one, so defiantly some mistakes, but I hope you enjoy!

In all fairness, you weren’t due for another 2 weeks. Both you and Darby thought you had time and Darby was able to wrestle this match to tie off a feud, then come home for the next couple of weeks to help with the baby. But life has a funny way of throwing thought out plans out the window and leaving both you and Darby scrambling.

It was shortly after Dynamite had started when Darby got the call. With his match being second, he had time to gear himself up, adrenaline already pumping, and mind running one thousand miles a minute. He assumed you called to wish him luck or ask something quick, but hearing that your water broke had left his breath hitched in his throat.

“Shit .. just stay calm and I’ll be there as fast as I can, I promise.” As much as you wanted to keep him on the phone, you had to go to the hospital and couldn’t exactly wait for Darby, even if the show was only an hour away.

“I love you. I’ll be there, I swear.” Darby spoke in a reassuring tone, but you could still hear the panic lingering in his voice, the worry he wouldn’t make it.

As the call ended, Darby was left to run around the building to find Tony. Always there when people didn’t need him, but never around when they did, it seemed. He knew his match was starting soon and he would probably get hell from the locker room for missing his match, but it didn’t matter in that moment.

“Tony! Shit, been looking everywhere.” Darby panted softly, not realizing just how out of breath he was from running around, probably looking like a mad man to people he passed by.

“Darby, you’re supposed — ”

“I know, I know! My fiancé just went into labor and I have to go if I’m going even think of making it in time. Thought you could figure something out if I found you sooner, but couldn’t find you anywhere.” Darby relaxed a little seeing Tony’s face shift from confusion to a more sympathetic expression. Unexpected things happened all the time, in people’s real lives and on screen, he could understand. Still, Darby’s heart pounded, rattling his ribcage as the anxiety and panic ran through his body.

“Go ahead and I’ll find something to fill the time.”

Putting his hands together and giving a slight bow of his head as way of saying thank you, Darby was quick to run out of the building, leaving his things behind. He would text Moxley as he drove, asking him to get his bag and board for him for him to take at the next show — a quick apology sent directly after. He wasn't even sure if Moxley had responded or agreed, but it wasn't as though he could turn back back.

The one-hour long drive felt like twelve, his fingers tight on the steering wheel the entire time as he used the inside of his jacket to wipe off the facepaint he already had put on. It didn’t get all of it, of course, but it was much better than walking into a hospital with half a skull painted on. He was already going to a hospital in ring gear and only a black jacket now covered in white paint covering his torso, it was the least he could do to look presentable.

Of all the people you texted or called, Darby was the first to show up, clearly ignoring any speed limit signs and running the risk of being pulled over, but he was there.

"I thought you weren't going to make it." You spoke through heavy breaths, spotting your fiancé who was ring ready rush to your side the moment he knew what room you were in.

"Wouldn't miss this for the world, Y/N. I promised."

He was with you the whole time after that, his hand in yours, letting you hold on tight enough during your labor that he swore you could have broken his hand, but that didn't matter all too much to him in the moment.

A night of stress, one the two of you would never forget for a multitude of reasons. But for Darby, the most memorable part of all of it was being able to hold your baby girl for the first time, blue eyes turning glassy as he kept her so close to his chest as if he was afraid of her leaving his hold. You got to wake up to the side, Darby sitting beside your bed with your girl, a permanent smile on his face.

"If there is a next time, you're staying home with me for at least a month before my due date." You spoke, bringing Darby out of his thoughts, piercing blues staring at you with that big smile.

"Already thinking of next time?" He teased, getting up so he could carefully hand over your little girl.

"If." You argued, but Darby only chuckled quietly under his breath, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. He didn't plan on going anywhere for a very long time, that was for sure.

[delopsia]

I just finished reading Flowers in November, it was amazing!! These were some of my fav parts

Part 1: "Thank you for doin' this," he says, after a while, "I don't think anyone's ever actually..."

Rhett thanking the reader for helping him with his wound and saying no one’s ever done that for him before even though he gets hurt often was heartbreaking.

It was really sweet that Rhett stepped to the side when him and Royal start yelling so that it was led away from the reader.

Rhett reorganizing the house when he’s drunk is so cute!

I love the details that emphasize it’s a different world!(Cows with gold horns, circle pizzas, “mash two potatoes with one fork”).

“That’s it, he coos, voice vibrating against your swollen clit, “pull on my hair while I eat this perfect little pussy of yours.”

"R-Rhett—" struggling to formulate words, "'m close."

"I know," grinning, he doesn't stop what he's doing, loudly slurping at your cunt, "come on, darlin', cum on my tongue for me."

The dirty talk had me sweating 😅

I love that they were both nervous that the hole was gonna open up and it’d be the last time they see each other.

“Someone’s been in here.”

Behind you, Rhett stiffens, gently taking hold of your waist and pulling you back onto the porch. Eyes wide, flickering between you and the wide open door, "what do you mean?" I love that rhett is so protective even though he just met the reader

Part 2

I love how grateful rhett is and that he always compliments the readers cooking even in the beginning when it doesn’t taste too good lol.

rhett comforting reader when they’re crying after they have a dream about their mom was too sweet! 🥹

Also rhett trying to put a bow on nyx was so adorable.

"I don't...nobody's ever...done anything like this for me before." That part was really sad and made me want to kiss him all over his face 😭

It made me happy that the Reader started bringing breakfast to him once or twice a week. And the one time she fed it to him made my heart melt!

So did them splitting the pieces of bacon, something about sharing food is so intimate!

It broke my heart when rhett got jumped by the tillersons (especially since it was Perry’s fault) but I’m glad reader helped take care of him and he’s healing now. It brought tears to my eyes when it mentioned how he spooks easier now.

(1/2)

Oh my goodness, thank you SO much for this 😭💐haha, I didn't think folks even read the old Flowers In November series any more! It was so cool to see all of your thoughts and favorite lines, Rhett's little protective streak, the cooking, the mundane comforts of being around him, the stuffed animal, Nyx the kelpie. I can't believe I forgot about all of this 🥹

It took me forever to figure out how to format this 😔✌ but I've tucked the other half of your ask underneath the 'Keep reading' button!

Part 3

‘A sharp, earsplitting crack rings out, a heavy, elephant-sized fist hitting the ground.’

"It's okay, it's okay," you don't realize you've jumped until Rhett's pulling you down from it, bringing you impossibly closer, "I've got you, baby."

Rhett comforting the reader and holding them close before they were even officially together was just *chef’s kiss* 😚

Rhett punching perry for disrespecting the reader was so sexy

Hearing the backstory of perry and Rebecca damn perry is fr a villain

"You're the greatest thing that's ever happened to me," and when he says your name at the end of the sentence, it sounds like a melody. "Y'know that?"

‘Through the conflict of your heart, split between worlds, you find yourself in silent agreement.’

‘Cupping his cheeks, you squish them together, wrenching an amused chuckle from him, "sometimes, I don't believe you're real."

This part is so soft and sweet it has me so 🥰

"This what you wanted?" His deep voice rumbles against your scalp, rattling around your skull. Why does something so simple turn me on so much?’

Feeling him speaking against my head would fix me

"Fuck," leaning down, he presses a kiss to your upper chest, just above your cleavage, "fuck, you're beautiful."

"Has anyone told you how perfect you are?"

"Could fuckin' die happy between these pretty legs of yours," speaking directly into your wetness, vibrating deliciously up your core, "y'know how long I've thought 'bout this?"

"You like my finger, darlin'?" Adding another finger to join the first, working you, "God, you're takin' them so well for me."

The dirty talk along with Rhett’s arms trembling when he first slides into the reader had me foaming at the mouth 🤤

"Like a fuckin' daydream on top of me," he says against your lips, "y'know that?" The way he looks up at you tells you that he means every word. Smitten.’ Please rhett saying all these sweet things is a NEED not a want

"Stretchin' for me so well, darlin'," the squelch of your wetness is filthy, "god damn, your hot little cunt is so wet."

"Sweetie, please," pleading around a shaky breath, "want—wanna cum."

"Baby, baby," those eyes barely open, breath hitching, "feels good. Fuck, it feels good."

"You're so sensitive," cooing as you feel his thighs tremble beneath you, "you gonna cum in me, sweet boy?"

Rhett’s eyes crossing when he came cause it felt so good has forever changed me, I will be thinking about it several times a day for the rest of my life 🥵

Part 4

"Is this your stuffed animal?" You ask when he steps into the room.’

Rhett grins at the sight of the old thing, "yeah, that's Toast."

The name fits the little guy perfectly. A light brown body with dark brown feet and a spot on his left eye. Visibly loved, its fur matted and missing in places.’

"I almost feel bad for defiling his home like we did," every time you look at this little twin bed, you remember that night, especially what happened the morning after.’

‘There's no need for you to look to know that Rhett's cheeks are heating up; you can feel it radiating off of him in waves. Arms wind around your waist, burying his hot face into the back of your neck.’

I always love a fic where rhett blushes, he’s just a cute, bashful cowboy ☺️

And it’s so precious to think about little rhett sleeping with a stuffie when he was younger and getting so attached to it that he keeps it 🥹🥰

Him turning toast around when he gets a blowjob, he is too cute for words to describe!

‘Here he is. Your big cowboy whimpering into his own palm as you suck him off in his childhood bedroom. Helpless to do nothing but take it.’

Him going from just previously being shy about the night you had sex in his twin-size bed to covering his mouth with his palm to prevent moaning like a little slut had me dizzy and panting 😮‍💨😵‍💫

I loved how rhett made the reader breakfast even though he’s not the best cook. It melted my heart!

"I can't imagine a day in my life without you," his voice breaks, gradually becoming watery, "and I promise you that as long as my heart's still beatin', I'm gonna be there." With every word, he shakes a little harder, trembling just like your quivering heart is.’

Pushing your noses together, those final words tumble off his tongue, "I love you," breath hitching, "and ain't nothin' in this world can get between that."

That was one of my fave parts and it just made what happened next all the more heartbreaking

"Please don't let go of me," quivering like a leaf, you squeeze as close to Rhett as possible.

"'m not gonna let you go," he promises, stepping further down the fence line, away from the hole, "I promise, baby, you're not goin' anywhere."

Please that part was so sweet and heartbreaking. It had me tearing up. It was also so intense and I love that not only rhett tried to save the reader but how Nyx tried to save the reader too and I’m glad that Nyx got to go with the reader and that the reader didn’t have to go into her old world all alone

"You found your necklace," you mutter, turning it around to sit correctly on his neck.’

"I'm glad you weren't there to see me ballin' my damn eyes out over it," but that watery grin tells you that you may witness it anyhow.’

A tear escapes; is quickly wiped away by your ring finger. He catches the glint of the stones in the light, grins, and presses a kiss to it when he finds the chance.’

"I hope you didn't find that stack of letters," you never did finish them, did you?’

"I read every single one," and then Rhett curls his hands around your cheeks, guiding you down to press your foreheads and noses together, "I love you too."

Thinking about rhett finding the necklace and letters and crying just broke my heart but I loved it at the same time!! It was one of the parts that tugged most at my heartstrings!

I love that rhett took toast with him! He’s so adorable!

Them going to go get a bag of concrete mix to cover up the purple flower at the end was so smart!

The epilogue was so funny and cute! I’m so glad they got a happy ending! And were able to play pizza box frisbee together lol 😂

It was such a fantastic series!! 🩷🩷🩷

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Lost & Found - Chapter Sixteen.

First update of the week is here again! Big thanks for all your engagement, my lovely little audience :)

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen

Words - 3,448

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, Minors DNI. Recounts of kidnap, child trafficking, physical/verbal/sexual abuse.

New relationships. For the most part, the new voyage with a brand-new person is taken upon a calm sea of getting to know one another, hanging out, having fun, and a copious amount of sex. Occasionally, though, the sea gets a little choppy.  

Especially when said new relationship involves living together right off the bat.  

Even more so when person A has been recovering from a hellish life, and person B has been tiptoeing around them because of this, perhaps taking a little more in the way of selfishness than he should have.  

Lee already had a tension headache that morning. Hearing Emma and Guero going at one another with the kind of decibels that made her brain feel like it was rattling in her skull didn’t help. She’d be lying if she’d stated that she hadn’t been wondering when this might all blow up, from the little observances she’d noted between the two.  

“You know, if things ever go south with me and Bish, I’m fuckin’ marrying you,” she spoke, a look of bliss on her face, Angel standing behind her squeezing the tension from her neck. It was always the cause of her headaches. That and she refused to wear her glasses as much as she should.  

“What, just for my massage skills? ‘Cuz if you think my hands feel great on your neck...” Looking down, she saw them hovering above her boobs, Lee nudging him with a soft elbow.  

“Quit it!”  

He laughed returning them to her neck, both of them distracted as the clubhouse door flew open, the small hurricane of a very pissed off Emma flying out, Guero following. 

“Em! Get the fuck back here!” 

“No way, not after what you just said!”  

“Damn,” Angel winced, “she’s getting sassy.” 

“Yeah, she’s pushing back,” she observed, sipping her coffee. “Now that she actually can.”  

“How’d you mean?” 

Lee circled her neck a little, a few clicks sounding. “She had nineteen years of never being able to fuckin’ argue against anything. Don Lombardi said jump, she asked how high. Now she knows she’s not gonna cop a beating or a hot knife against her, she’s learning to speak up. 

“I think she’s pretty fuckin’ sparky by nature, but it’s been supressed for a long fuckin’ time and poor Guero, he ain’t used to it. He’s gotten used to this sweet, meek woman who didn’t disagree with nothing, you know? To be fair, though, he’s also let her get away with it, wanting her own way now she realises she can, and him suddenly not letting her ain’t fuckin’ sitting well with Emma, being told no.” 

Angel marvelled at how, as usual, Lee truly was the all-seeing eye of the MC family, her assessment making a lot of sense to him, even if he hadn’t really noticed any details beyond the fact the young couple had been yelling at one another for the last twenty minutes. “They should just go bang it out, man. Always works for me.” 

Lee leaned back, viewing him upside down with a raised eyebrow. “And when was the last time you had a healthy relationship from those avoidance tactics, hmm?” 

He thought for a few moments, moving his hands to the base of her skull. “Hmm.”  

“Exactly,” she grinned, winking.  

“Yeah, yeah, alright,” he laughed, shaking his head. “I guess me and women don’t exactly go hand in hand like that.” 

“Nope, because you only ever keep ‘em at arm's length. Or dick’s length, never really let ‘em in, do you?”  

He had no comeback for that, the truth of his lack of confidence in relationships presented to him, tugging a tiny piece of her hair before he continued his pinching. “Whatever it is, I kinda hope they’re done soon. It's too early for all this loud bitching.”  

“And if we agree on one fuckin’ thing, Reyes elder, it’s that!” she sighed, the shouting from across the yard not showing any signs of abating just yet. At least one good thing had come from it, she guessed. Emma now realised that anger wasn’t the ultimate precursor to anything bad happening, she didn’t recoil from a raised voice and tremble in fright. Quite the opposite, in fact.  

Expressing angry emotions instead of bottling things up was healthy, but perhaps in that moment they both needed to walk away and calm down, Guero finally doing that, storming back into the clubhouse while Emma tore a path back to the workshop with heat in her heels, her jaw set.  

“The absolute fucking nerve of him!” she muttered, picking up a spanner, beginning her work again. 

“Hey, no rage while you’re working with brake cables,” Lee instructed, pointing across the shop at her.  

“I can’t help it! Jesus fucking Christ, he’s got me so damned mad!” 

“While you’re in my workshop, yeah you fuckin’ can. I’m technically your boss, so I can tell you what to do, and you can either like it or leave, Emma. If I say no rage, then you gotta calm your fuckin’ shit down before you work on brakes. We clear?”  

She chewed the inside of her cheek with annoyance, placing the spanner down and sighing, counting to ten. “Yeah, yeah, we are. Sorry.”  

“Good.” Lee watched her carefully, taking a few moments to cool off, sipping at her cherry Coke while she calmed down, moving back to the huge Harley and continuing with her task of fitting the new brake cables. She left it about ten minutes before speaking again. “Alrighty, now boss Lee is done, friend Lee is here. Whassup with you guys? You wanna talk about it, chat it out, spill all?”  

“Lots of little things,” she began, her nostrils flaring as she took off her gloves, leaning on the handlebars of the bike before her. “It’s all compounded and he’s basically calling me selfish for always wanting my own way, but I’m not! He isn’t being fair!”  

A few more details were revealed, the main bone of her contention being that he refused to travel nearly two hours away to see a used car she liked the look of, his refusal not being met by anything close to grace. Most of her other gripes were of a similar pattern, which if Emma took ten seconds to breathe over rather than losing her cool, she’d see she was being a little unreasonable about. Lee knew why she was struggling with that, though.  

In truth, this was her first real relationship with someone, and even though a fully grown woman at twenty-nine, her expectations were quite childish. She expected her own way because Guero had so far let her have it, and maybe that was his fault, setting a standard that wasn’t realistic. Emma experiencing this sudden hostility was likely triggering of her past, though, never being able to have her own voice, being dictated to as well.  

It wasn’t really her fault; she simply didn’t know how to handle conflict, how to compromise, since she’d never experienced give and take. Likely, she thought that compromise meant she was being ordered around again, when that simply wasn’t the case. It really didn’t help that Guero too only had two modes, calm and easy, or flying off the handle. He was just like his dad in that respect; there was no in between. Either way, Lee knew she had to handle her reply very carefully.  

“Okay, I’m not saying all, but a lot of this is boiling down to you not liking hearing the word no, because it reminds you of a time when that was all you did hear. I also get it that you want to ask for things, now that you actually can. You deserve ‘em, sunshine! Ain’t nobody who does more than you after all you fuckin’ went through, but there’s a but here.” 

“And that is?” she asked, Lee pulling her cigarettes out and lighting up. 

“You gotta see you can’t expect everything to go your way. Guero is entitled to have his own opinions and if they don’t mesh with yours, you can’t fuckin’ blow up and demand of him. He isn’t Rocco, babe. Yeah, he can be bad tempered, but he ain’t trying to clip your wings, hold you down, bend you to his will, which is the way I think you’re taking it.” 

“Let’s use the car thing as an example. Him not wanting to take you all the way up to Anaheim to see a used car you’ve found, a near two-hour journey each way isn’t him being an asshole. I mean, you haven’t even fuckin’ got your learners permit yet! There’re stacks of cars closer to home for sale, too. That’s where you have to meet him halfway and compromise. It’s his time off, he doesn’t wanna spend nearly four hours of it on a fuckin’ motorcycle again when he could be just chilling out, enjoying his time with you in any number of other ways. C'mon, surely you can see that?” 

It wasn’t the reply she’d been expecting, but if Emma was brutally honest with herself, it was the one she needed to hear. Lee’s usual calm pragmatism, delivered in her no-nonsense, yet gentle fashion put a hole in her armour, one she needed to actually let in a little bit of sense. Butting heads with Guero, especially how fiery he was when pissed off, had done nothing but make her build a further wall.  

Emma realised she was being overly defensive and thus his perfectly reasonable refusal to let her have her own way wasn’t being met by any fairness from her, because it wasn’t getting through. She cringed internally at herself as the realisation of it smacked her.  

As if reading her thoughts, Lee continued. “I’ll add here too that you’re not solely in the wrong. Guero and his crazy little temper should know that yelling at you isn’t gonna solve shit. You’ve had too much yelling, but he struggles hanging onto his fire. He needs to dial it back, though.” 

The uncomfortableness began to subside, Emma realising it was time to put on her big girl pants. “I’m being a bit of a princess, aren’t I?” 

“Yup!”  

Moving out from behind the bike, she looked over to the clubhouse. “Think I might need to go apologise for my part.” 

Lee nodded. “Humble pie don’t taste too good, huh, sugar?”  

“Pretty damned bitter, buddy.” Lee threw her head back, pushing a soft fist against her shoulder, Emma walking over to the clubhouse. Angel and Bottles were outside, both looking at her with slight scepticism.  

“Is this about to be round two? Cuz’ my ears can’t take it,” the former asked, Emma shaking her head.  

“Nope, off to extend my apologies. Sorry to you guys, too, having to bear witness to our drama.” 

The men shared a sharp head turn in one another’s direction. “Yo, he gotta woman who says she’s sorry? Damn. Where’d I find myself one of those?” Angel announced, Bottles laughing as Emma crouched next to where they were loitering on the steps. 

She rested her head on his shoulder, sighing. “You might have one right here if he tells me to go fuck myself.” 

Angel snorted, reaching to pat her arm a few times. “He ain’t gonna do that, shut up. If he does, though...” He winked at her with a click of his tongue, Emma laughing, kissing his forehead. She really liked Angel. For all his wise assed bravado, he was actually one of the least threatening of the guys, one she gelled with more than others. Him, Gilly and Bottles were her people, she’d found in the six months she’d been in their lives for at that point.  

“Just kick him in the nuts if he starts yelling again, babe,” the latter spoke, Emma shaking her head and standing. 

“That isn’t conducive to calming things down.” 

Bottles sniffed, turning his head back to grin at her. “No, but it’d make me laugh.” His words made a little bit of the tension she carried melt, turning back to the doors and taking a deep breath before letting herself in.  

“I swear to fucking god, if you’re here to scream at me some more,” Guero began, turning from where he was sat at the bar with Bishop and EZ.  

“Can we talk?” 

He raised his eyebrows. “I can, but you just wanna fucking embarrass the living hell out of me with your yelling, so if it’s more of that, then no.” The two men he was sitting with slowly slinked away, not wanting to be right in the way of things if they blew up for a second time, Emma waiting until they’d retreated.  

“I’m sorry,” she began, reaching to stroke his forearms. The muscles stiffened on contact. “I’ve realised I was being a princess about things and not being reasonable. I need to compromise more, I see that now. I’m sorry I yelled at you, too. I love you, let’s get past it.”  

“Mm,” he hummed, rolling his tongue around the inside of his mouth, his jaw flexing. “And you need to stop looking at me and seeing that dick who took your life away. I know that’s what you’re doing, and it offends the fuck outta me.” As it would, she thought, since her boyfriend was the very antithesis of Rocco in the way he treated her. “Alright. We’re good.” 

He looked and sounded the furthest thing from it. “No, we’re not. It’s written all over your face, how mad you are at me.” 

He shrugged with nonchalance. “Maybe that’s for you to deal with.”  

Oh, he wasn’t budging. When her man held a grudge, he truly did hang onto it with both hands and every single one of his teeth.  

She rolled her eyes, turning away. “Mother fucking Mary, you’re so stubborn.”  

Rather than fight against it because she didn’t like it, she decided to leave him to it. He’d calm down in his own time, she figured. Being an adult and accepting that was part of the process of being in a relationship was all she could do. She’d apologised, now it was up to him to either take it on board or need further time to simmer down a little more.  

Until then, she had bikes to work on, and outlaws to keep her entertained, especially later that afternoon when she stopped for a break and a cold beer. Angel, Bottles and Downer were her source of relief while she sat studying a Harley Davidson manual, familiarising herself with the set up. 

It was while she was reading about the engine configuration that Angel broke her concentration with his request. “You’re fuckin’, you’re... hey yo, Emma! Gimme a fancy word for rude.” 

“Impertinent,” she offered, Downer snorting. 

“Ain’t that when a dude can’t get his dick up?” 

Oh, he was walking right into it. “No, buddy. That’s impotent.” 

“Yeah, he’s that, too,” Bottles offered, his face alight with mischief. 

Angel laughed hard, swigging his beer. “Ain’t got shit to say to that, huh dog?” 

“You wouldn’t be nothin’ without your lil’ blonde dictionary over there! Bitch ass probably didn’t even finish high school!” 

“Fuck you, man. I finished!”  

“I didn’t, though. Didn’t even go, you know, with the whole kidnapped thing.” All three stared at her in disbelief. 

“Then how come you’re so well spoken?” Bottles asked, Emma shrugging. 

“I read books. Lots of them.” Just then, she felt a body slide behind hers, two familiar tattooed arms draping around her.  

“You know what one of those is, right Angel? Primitive version of Netflix.” After his amusing comment – with Angel not so amused by his sarcasm - Guero then leaned in close to her, tightening his arms and kissing her cheek. “I’m sorry for being a bad-tempered ass, wasn’t all just you, baby.”  

Her hands clutched onto his forearms, stroking them as she turned to offer a kiss. “I appreciate that.” Her smile warmed him where he'd been feeling frosty, knowing that for his part, he needed to actually accept when someone was sorry instead of holding onto his grudge; even if that holding had only been for a couple of hours.   

As for Emma, she recognised it as an important part of her leading a normal life, not letting her past influence her present. It would be easier said than done, she supposed, not to let it happen, not to immediately think that every objection Guero made was an attempt at control. At least now thanks to Lee’s advice, she could see when she was doing it.  

Later that night, they spoke about it, Emma lying at one end of the bathtub, him at the other.  

“See I kinda think you’re still pissed at me, giving me the tap end of the tub,” he commented, Emma raising an eyebrow. 

“Excuse me, who decided to encroach on who’s bath time?”  

She had him there, Guero biting his lip as he pulled a face that made her giggle. “Yeah, alright.” Grabbing one of her feet, he began to rub them for her, a gesture appreciated since she’d been on them all day, running around the yard. “I meant what I said about you seeing me in the same light as that slimy fuck from your past, though. We can disagree without you immediately thinking I’m behaving like him. I get that it’s hard for you, but yeah. Try not to go there, alright?”  

“I will. Promise I will, honey,” she vouched. “I have a lot of shit to process, I guess. You’ve been so patient with me, too. I don’t blame you for getting pissed off.”  

He shrugged. “I ain’t perfect either, and I say I get it, that you have shit to process, but I guess I never really will truly understand it, what you have to deal with. I’m not pretending I will either, but yeah. I’ll try not to lose my shit and be so bad tempered with you while you do. Speaking of that, I gotta say it! You’re nearly as fucking explosive as I am. It’d be a turn on if it wasn’t directed at me.” He went to bite her toes, Emma snatching her foot away with a squeal. “I gotta new type, apparently. Sparky blondes. Sparky blondes whose feet I’m gonna bite.” 

“No!” she squeaked, Guero going for the other foot. 

“Yeah? Stop me.”  

Half the water in the tub was lost to the pursuit of bitten toes, Emma scream laughing, wrapping her legs around him eventually to prevent his onslaught, giving him a defiant look. “Now what are you going to do, hmm?”  

He looked her up and down, eyebrows fluttering suggestively. “You.” He leaned to kiss her, his body covering hers, more of the water sloshing out onto the floor. “Today started bad, let’s end it better, huh?”  

It ended a lot better, that was for certain. Even though the bathroom floor resembled that of a swimming pool once they were done.  

Later that night, as Guero slept at her side – and quietly for once – Emma lay back and played the day over in her head. While medication had eased her anxiety and worked to relieve her of the nightmares that had plagued her, there was much more work she needed to do on herself. While physically, she was far from Staten Island, mentally she was still there in how she was handling conflict.  

Turning to her side, she could just about make out her love from the light filtering through the tiny cracks in the blinds, both too busy enjoying one another some more once they’d made it out of the bathtub to bother closing them properly. He was her safe person, the one who’d literally found her, and the one who’d made her realise he was different to all she knew. She owed it to him to believe that, believe him.  

Speaking of Staten Island, while she and Guero slept, not two miles from their location a call came in from a resident of that very New York City borough.  

“Ezekiel, Rocco Lombardi.”  

Standing up, EZ walked from the clubhouse out into the quiet of the yard to take the call, the cooler night air wisping gently against his face, listening as he continued. “So, it’s been almost a year since our arrangement commenced, and things are running well. I’d like to propose a meet with you and your VP again, discuss something extra I intend to move along with our current consignment.” 

There it was. The other shoe Bishop had warned him about – and the same one Emma had spoken of months before - had finally dropped.  

[laughableillusions]

Self Medication

Yippee another fic!!! Tbh this started out as pure self indulgence in my notes app bc I had migraines for 2 weeks straight waaayyy back in November. But it turned into a sort of sweet little moment between Nick and Jareth and I decided to kind of finish it. (I do not have constant migraines anymore…at least for now). But I hope you enjoy!

[NOT PROOFREAD]

Nick massaged his temples, grunting as his forehead throbbed against his eyes. It was as if his skull was being shrunk around his brain, crushing his delicate muscle ever so slowly yet ever so painfully. The pressure of it has trickled down away from his head even- creeping down his jaw and tickling his cheekbones. Either his head would explode outwards like a balloon- or he would just collapse and die right then.

But either way, it wasn’t coming anytime soon.

And so Nick was forced to simply bear it in all its horrid glory. That and maybe get as drunk as he could. Thank God Amber had left to sleepover at a friend’s house- and thank god he was alone. He didn’t have to cook, didn’t have to hear the thumping of Amber’s footsteps across the house. Just lay in bed with a bottle of-

Nick glanced at the label.

Absinthe, and try not to vomit.

The curtains had all been drawn and the lights shut off- giving the sanctuary of night without the outside dedication. And as he lay there in his strange pained and drunken stupor- something tapped on the windowpane.

3 polite knocks against the glass, gentle as could be. But still enough to rattle like gunshots within Nick’s swollen brain.

He groaned- mostly out of pain- as he stood. Stumbling his way over toward the curtain and pulling it open just a tad enough to see this visitor.

The inquisitive yet regal face of a barn owl stared back at him. A strange sight to see a barn owl out and about in broad daylight. But to Nick he just squinted at it, annoyed.

“Damn.” He sighed.

The bird seemed to hear him, feathers ruffling as it then tapped on the glass pane again. Seemingly insistent.

“King of the goblins and you can’t even open a window.”

The comment was a mutter but the owl’s eyes narrowed, its head tilting as if it was glaring.

Nick scoffed a bit, leaning down to now unlock the window.

“Yeah yeah, you big diva.” He smiled a bit as his own joke.

He cringed in pain as he slid the window pane up, not even waiting for the owl to move before stepping away and laying back on his bed again.

The owl meanwhile took its time entering the room, seeming to get a look around before puffing up a bit and flapping its way onto Nick’s bed. It squeaked curiously, head bobbing forward as it trotted forward along his bed- like some strange dinosaur peering at its prey. Nick reached his hand out, not lifting his throbbing head from the pillow as he began to pet the bird. The owl squeaked again, its little head pressing against his palm in the way a cat searches for affection.

“Come here.” Nick muttered, taking his hand away and scooting to the side to give the owl a space.

The owl however, didn’t move, just straightened itself and stared at him. There was a feeling of mischief at how it puffed itself up, however badly hidden by the way it began to preen its wing. Like it understood nothing.

Nick sighed, having neither the patience or strength to understand what it wanted- or what game it was playing. He was drunk and in pain, at least it could give him the mercy to wither away in peace. And in some ways, he was a bit embarrassed as well for the rejection.

“Don’t you have rats to swallow somewhere you fuckin…” He trailed off, rolling over away from the bird to try and somehow get more comfortable.

He felt the leather of a gloved hand gently guide his face back. A very familiar fae king now replacing the modest white and brown owl before. Not bright but somehow dazzling enough to make Nick’s head radiate pain.

“Why swallow rats when songbirds taste so much sweeter.” Jareth purred. Petting Nick’s cheek.

Nick would’ve blushed but his head was pounding too much to really take notice. It was like if someone had opened a window suddenly, or turned in a lamp. Not a big change but horribly noticeable when one’s head feel’s like a shaken soda can.

His hand felt nice, even if it was gloved; the leather was a a bit cold and soothed a bit of pressure. It softened his attitude if only a bit, but not enough.

“What is it?” He grumbled.

Jareth leaned back a little, taking his hand away as his flawless brow furrowed.

“My my, you have been enjoying yourself.” He then looked to the end table, picking up the bottle of Absinthe.

He sniffed it, wrinkling his nose.

“A bit too much I would think.” He then swirled the bottle, the remaining liquid going from green to clear.

Nick began to sit up in protest, but both his swirling mind and Jareth stopped him- and he sort of slumped back down to the pillow with one small push from Jareth’s finger.

“What did you do?” He still demanded, his voice slurred just a bit.

Jareth set the bottle back down, resting his cheek on his palm as he leaned over him.

“Restored it.”

“It was fine the way it was!” Nick protested.

Jareth sighed a little in loving annoyance.

“My dearest little warbler, you are incredibly inebriated off my best liquor, liquor I gave to you thinking that it would be only be used for the specialest of occasions.”

There were a lot of big words there, words Nick was too intoxicated to process quite right. Something about liquor, and something about a warbler?

“What’s that got to do with anything?” He then asked sharply.

Jareth leaned close, Nick turning away from the sheer gleam.

“Because, such a wine can be dangerous to those who aren’t used to it. Drinking it in a less than hedonistic setting, it may just slip the line between a drink and death.”

Nick swallowed dry, going pale as he suddenly felt quite unwell.

“What d’ya mean?” The question was urgent and twinged with rage.

Jareth’s head tilted to the side, smiling with teeth that were too shiny and a bit too sharp. Like this was simply just amusing him. Nick glanced at him, squirming under his mismatched eyes as his mind frittered with the question. There was something about this, something about accepting gifts from the fae- well you weren’t supposed to- but he had already done more than just broken that rule.

God he couldn’t think.

Shit, did he poison him?

“Did you poison me?”

There wasn’t much punch or accusation in the question, it was asked in the way someone would ask a coworker if they broke a printer.

Jareth just laughed, his arm had somehow slinked around Nick’s shoulders and he pulled him closer. The movement just making him groan in pain of his head being bobbed about.

“Do you still not trust me?” He asked, his voice had that sort of sing-song way that made everything sound like a lie or some kind of strange deal.

“No.” Nick immediately grunted out the answer, albeit with red cheeks.

“Pity…” Jareth hummed, sounding a bit disappointed. “However, due to your misuse of my gift- I shall need to take something as payment.”

Nick immediately scooted away from him, rolling over.

“Not now.”

The goblin king seemed quite unprepared for that, both a bit confused and concerned as he leaned over him, pressing his cheek to his.

“Whatever you believe this to be I assure you it’s not.” He soothed, nuzzling him.

Nick blushed at the sudden contact, Jareth planting a small kiss on his cheek. His lips felt warm, like that of marble basking in sunlight. It trickled across his cheeks, his temples, washing over his pained nerves like that of warm water.

Jareth felt Nick relax beneath him, and he smiled.

“My boon shall be the very thing that ails you.”

Nick turned, flinching just a bit at how close Jareth was. He had such strange eyes…mismatched in such a way that wasn’t entirely natural. Heterochromia was quite the sight, but in him it was incredibly stark. One eye, brown as pyrope- brown as the earth was dark with soil. And the other, a pale and completely otherworldly blue. Both shimmered the same way but felt so entirely different all the while.

Jareth hummed, brushing dark strands away from Nick’s face.

“Show me where the pain is.”

His voice was oh so tender, there was no hidden meaning tucked carefully between his syllables, no ulterior motive, no trickery or half-truths. It was when Jareth spoke like this, in a small voice in the intimate darkness that Nick felt incredibly small compared to him. Like he was standing at the foot of some magnificent ancient power, like a bird nesting in the hand of some grand stone monument. Impossibly unknowable…but a comfort all the same.

How strange his life had become.

Nick pressed his hand to his forehead, head swirling with pain and his comparably puny existence.

Jareth nodded.

“Unfortunately, dearest, as much as I admire your staring. I must ask that you close your eyes.”

Nick blushed redder, looking away even if it sent a pulse of pain against his retinas.

He heard Jareth’s soft chuckle.

“Then again, you have such lovely eyes that perhaps not…” He purred in a way that sounded a bit dangerous.

Nick immediately closed his eyes.

He heard Jareth hum, his unseen smile only adding to his unease. Then the mattress creaked as a weight lifted off, and the sort of…shimmer of air around Jareth dissipated. Then there was a rustling of fabric. Now the small creaking of leather being pulled or resettled.

Nick opened one eye, just a little. Seeing Jareth now sitting on the bed, facing away from him. He seemed to be fiddling with something in his hands, something leather. 2 things that excited the imagination in ways Nick was not ready for at the moment.

“What are you doing?” Nick demanded.

Jareth glanced back at him, an eyebrow raised.

“Out of all the things I took you for, a peeper was not one of them, Nicholas Cardinal.”

Nick felt the absinthe churn in his stomach. There was a way his name was uttered by Jareth that just unnerved him in some way. Like he still had some kind of control over him.

“I still don’t trust you, remember?”

Jareth sighed a bit.

“And yet, you love me, do you not?” He answered. “Besides, I was only removing my gloves.”

He then turned, and Nick saw him tug off the rest of his black leather glove. He placed the pair down on the nightstand, now leaning over him once again. His hands cradled his face, they were astonishingly rough. Like aged stone.

“Now. Close your eyes.”

His voice sounded strange, echoed all around- but almost a whisper.

Nick obeyed, because at this point…how could he not? But he couldn’t help his unease. Jareth rarely took off his gloves, and when he did…it usually meant that something truly bizarre was at foot. Jareth could do such strange things to Nick if he touched him- actually touched him. He could reduce him to nothing but putty, clay, a powerless nothing that he could shape into anything he wished.

“Be not afraid, little cardinal.” Jareth’s voice somehow pierced through the murkiness of his thoughts.

“I wish you no harm.”

Jareth then kissed him on the forehead, pressing his finger to Nick’s temples and massaging, his body somehow fell slack against the pillow. At first he could feel nothing but his hands, then his head began to swirl again.

He gasped, his mind was telling him he was falling. His body was twisting and twisting against the air. Spots of horizon blotted into his vision. Swirling and twisting and turning in the wind.

Jareth voice faded quietly in from the darkness, a gentle hush that seemed to emanate from within Nick himself. His mind stopped tumbling, the steady massaging of his temples grounding him back down.

The pain that has festered behind his eyes began to trickle across his forehead. Split down between his eyes as they were drawn to the vortex, then it too began to swirl right at his temples. It was a nauseating feeling, pain circling around and around.

“Inhale.”

Nick took in a long breath, Jareth’s fingers were cold against his skin as they moved down his cheekbones- taking the pain along the cradle of his sinuses. It tingled slightly, all coming together right at the tip of his nose.

“Exhale.”

The air he breathed out felt hot, hot and heavy. Like Jareth was pulling something out of him. He breathed out and out until he no longer could.

“Very good, my starling.”

Jareth’s voice sounded further away, more real as he gulped in air once again.

Somehow Nick’s head felt…lighter. The pain had of course been pulled out of him, leaving a strange pit where it had lay. Like the fresh hole of a lost tooth.

“You may open your eyes now.”

Nick opened his eyes slowly, expecting pain from what little light there was. But there was nothing…nothing but Jareth’s owlish face staring back down at him.

“How do you feel?”

He began to sit up, his head feeling strangely light and…unburdened. That or it was just the absinthe again.

“What’d you do?” He croaked, rubbing his forehead.

Jareth had leaned away as he sat up, still watching him quite closely as he recovered. But at his question the fae sighed.

“Must I explain everything to you?”

From thin air he plucked a crystal ball, small, but the inside swirling with a dark…something. He then held it out to Nick, who hesitantly took it.

“What’s this for?”

Jareth leaned his head on Nick’s shoulder, hands somehow snaking under his arms.

“Do you see what’s inside it?” He asked, lips brushing against his flesh.

Nick blushed, focusing all his strength onto looking at the crystal. Even as he felt the gloves fingers begin to untuck his undershirt-

“I guess.” He answered starkly.

Jareth hummed.

“I had told you I took what it was that ailed you, songbird.”

His voice rumbled right into Nick’s core, rattling both his skeleton and judgement. God he was too fucking drunk for this…

“You’re an intelligent man.” Jareth’s voice dropped, lips right next to his ear.

“Think on it.”

Nick gasped, shivering under his voice.

“I’m still drunk.” He managed.

“No you’re not.” Jareth cooed, pressing a kiss to his jawbone.

“Simply look at it, my dear.”

Nick swallowed hard, heart pounding as he tried to now understand what he meant. But Jareth’s hands had slipped under his shirt, the leather somehow warm on his skin as they mapped out his every feature.

The Crystal still sat in his hands, the swirling vapor now pulsing angry red as he focused.

“Wait.”

Jareth smiled, the movement of his lips tickling his skin. Nick turned the sphere in his hands, beginning to recognize its patterns. Patterns that he himself had felt pounding against his temples moments ago.

“But how did you…?” Nick marveled, turning his head to where Jareth had nestled himself against him.

The king of the goblins raised his head, soft golden hair brushing against Nick’s cheek as he leaned over his shoulder, watching the swirl of the vapor inside the crystal.

“Have you forgotten what I am, Nicholas?” He asked, teasing him.

“A pain in my ass?” Nick teased back.

Jareth hummed.

“Do I detect a hint of ungratefulness within those words, little cardinal?”

Nick sighed, gently bumping Jareth’s forehead before looking back to the crystal. He leaned against Jareth, feeling his chest press against his back as he inhaled.

“I guess I never believed fae could do things like this.” Nick confessed. “Stealing people is one thing, but…taking away pain? Intoxication?”

“I take as well as give, my star. And whatever wish you have, I shall grant.” Jareth soothed.

Nick felt him begin to kiss along his cheekbone, working his way lower, his lips warm like summer rain, but cold as they left his skin. Nick tilted his head to the side, allowing him free roam of his neck and jaw.

“But at what price?” Nick asked, though his voice was distant.

Jareth only hummed, keeping his secrets as his gloved fingers began to lift up Nick’s shirt.

[kbonwhobeebos]

SPOILERS FOR SLIME RANCHER 2!!!!!

so ive been OBSESSIVELY playing Slime Rancher 2 since I got it a few weeks ago and I finished the actual (released) lore maybe a week ago and OH BOY OH BOY DO I HAVE THEORIES!!! So. To put it simply (and because I think it sounds funny without any initial context) I think Gigi is the future daughter of Hobson and Thora who traveled back in time to destroy the Prismacore.

There's more to it. but i think its very funny to say it like that right off the bat

Evidence Time: -Mochi says that the fireflies you find around Rainbow Island are way too advanced and that they're impossible with current technology. (Time travel implications. It's believable that all the other ranchers we talk to would be kind of like an extended family for Thora and Hobson's kid, so Mochi being an "aunt" for them isn't unbelievable. What I'm getting at is that Maybe Mochi gave the kid some of her tech.) -Gigi says that her childhood feels like a different lifetime. This could just be her saying that after showing the Prismacore to the unnamed company (that I have hatefully dubbed Alterra) makes this current time feel so distant from her childhood, but I feel like one of Gigi's dialogues is something about her feeling like all her memories are playing all at once/out of order/shit like that. (Possible symptom of Prismacore time travel?) -Gigi mentions that her mother was upset she never got to meet her grandma. This is important because Thora looks like an older woman. It makes sense that she never would've met her grandmother if her mother is Thora's age (I'd guess mid 50's-mid 60's) -Gigi has literally fused with part of the Prismacore. Her memories and the possibility of her traveling through time could be a prisma-disruption made manifest by her desire to go back in time to fix the mistake of showing the Prismacore to Alterra -There is also mentions of Gigi growing up on the Far, Far Range on a ranch with her mother and father. The only child we know of who could have grown up (or will grow up as of now) on the Far, Far Range is Thora and Hobson's child. Counter-Evidence Time: -Gigi says that she is what caused the Glass Desert to become a desert. If I'm remembering correctly from the first game, Hobson arrived at the Glass Desert after it became a desert. Unless Gigi time-traveled to the Far, Far Past (ba-dum-tssss) before Hobson and Thora even got together, this doesn't make sense. Or maybe she's from an alternate timeline? -Gigi implies that her parents didn't truly believe in her, or encourage her to do what she wanted. I could chock that up to her being an unreliable narrator, but that's just a shitty excuse. Thora and Hobson don't seem like the type of people to discourage their child from their dreams.

Yeah that's it. That's all I got rattling around in my skull about this. That and the theory that Gigi will disappear (at least from the past) with the destruction of the Prismacore. Because clearly the game is leading up to the destruction of the Prismacore. And then, after she fades out and says her goodbyes to Beatrix, we get a message from Thora and Hobson about their newborn daughter, Gigi.

[angelmichelangelo]

idk i'm really in the mood for some mikey fics this week, so i have a few prompts! No pressure if none peak your interest. (i'd prefer 2k3, 2012 or IDW if that's okay!) 1. A follow up to chapter 2 going deeper into mikey's healing hands. How far does it work? Are there consequences? 2. Bodyswap with mikey and a character of your choice! 3. I'm SUCH a sucker for time loops. Maybe mikey's stuck until he prevents/resolves a canon event, maybe it's something you come up with, i don't mind! :)

saving all these prompts for a rainy day but here’s one that really stuck out to me! hope you enjoy!

x

It’s only been an hour — sixty measly minutes and Donatello is sure that his head is on fire, starting somewhere at the back of his skull like glowing embers, spreading to the space between his eyes like a wildfire, he has to quickly remind himself as he pinches his eyes shut that this isn’t his head. This isn’t his migraine creeping up on him.

“Ugh,” he scoffs, pushing himself away from his desk blindly, his office chair skates across the length of the train cab with a small squeak. “Raphie. This sucks.”

When Donnie finally pries his eyes open to glance up at the turtle that’s standing before him he has some mental gymnastics to perform until he’s remembering which brother it is that’s actually here with him right now.

Because staring back down at him with a somewhat familiar scowl is his own face. But that’s not him. That’s Raph.

“Yeah well. This gut ache ain’t nothing to sing about either.” He says, rubbing a hand delicately across his abdomen. “Seriously, Don. Your immune system made of paper or what? I feel like I got the stomach flu, bird flu, turtle flu, rat flu all rolled into one.”

Donnie hums. Too much noise making his head rattle.

But he needs to find a cure. Whatever Bishop had blasted them with had sent each of them flying across the abandoned warehouse and once they’d pulled themselves up off the floor, they weren’t themselves anymore. And Bishop was nowhere to be found to fix it.”

“It’s just hard to work when it feels like my head is about to explode,” he whines, palming at his temples with the heel of his hand. “I get headaches from too much screen time but… yeesh, Raph. One too many knocks on the head for you I think.”

It’s then that Leo appears at the open doorway, all pouty and slumped over, it doesn’t take long for Don to remember that it’s not actually Leo occupying that body, but instead their youngest sibling.

Mike rolls out their shoulder with a hiss. They look towards Raph-Donnie momentarily forgetting himself when they ask,

“Got the good stuff?” Their face pulls into a frown. “My shoulder is killing me.”

Raph scoffs. “Wrong turtle, kid. Doctor Don is over there.”

Mikey huffs out a surprised laugh, like the situation was still catching them off guard, they round themselves around to the real Donnie, still rolling their shoulder in place.

“Here,” Donnie says as he rifles around in the bottom drawer of his desk for a collection of loose pills. His head swims and his vision whites out for a moment before he straightens himself out. Both Raph and Mike blink at him curiously.

“That bad?” Raph says in a low voice.

Donnie nods, carefully.

“Where’s Leo?” Raph then asks.

Mikey dry swallows the pills. “Laying down,” they respond once they’re gone, voice tight. “His—my knees are acting up again. Told him to lay down but prop them up with a pillow like you told me.” They roll their neck out to relieve some of their own pain.

“Man,” they hiss. “Are we pathetic or what?”

Raph shivers. He’s gone a shade of green paler and Donnie winces at how sickly he looks.

“I feel it,” he says gruffly. He’s pitching himself forward a little and Donnie knows the feeling all too well. “Feels like I’m about to puke my guts up.”

Mikey makes a disgruntled noise, beak wrinkling.

“Well don’t do it in my lab,” he chastises him lightly. “Go lie down yourself. And drink some water. It’ll make the nausea pass, don’t worry.”

Raph goes to leave immediately but then hesitates. The shadows of a smile pass over his face.

“Heh. Look at us. Actually looking after ourselves for once only because we’ve swapped bodies.”

Mikey snorts. “It’s kinda nice to play doctor on yourself,” he says. Then, his face darkens. “Though I hope you’re onto a cure, Donboy. I hate being in a guy body as much as I hate having Leo’s stabby shoulder. My shell hurts like, well, shell.”

Donnie reaches over and gives his sibling a sympathetic pat on the arm. “I’m working on it, Mike,” he tells him. “Trust me. Raph’s chronic headaches are making me miss my own sticky tummy.” He pulls a face. “This shouldn’t take too long.”

Raph whines. “Well wake me up when it’s over,” he says. He really looks like he’s about to blow chunks now and Donnie hopes that he’s able to make it to the bathroom instead. “Don. There’s pills in the back of the meds unit in the kitchen for that migraine. Take three cos two don’t touch it. Eat something as well. Chips usually do the trick.”

Mikey’s eyes light up at that. “Chips? I could go for chips. I dunno when Leo last ate but I’m starved.”

Raph makes a face. “You’re always starved, idiot.”

And four hours later (with the help of Leatherhead of course) they’re all back in their actual bodies. Donnie’s head is clear of any crushing headache and there’s the familiar burn and bubble of his bad stomach flaring up inside him that makes him realize that he’d actually rather have no chronic pain at all.

Still. Next time they have their own flare ups, they’re all a little more cautious to take care of themselves better. So not a totally bad thing after all.