#this needs more work but hey! I did every day this time!

[darkmatilda]

𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: a spontaneous idea for a new year's eve party doesn't seem so brilliant anymore when there's so much to do and so little time left. and when the sound of fireworks wakes you up with flashbacks. but luckily, reid's right there with you. as always.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: spencer x newbau!female reader, baking cookies together, the beginning is really chaotic, reader has a panic attack and flashbacks from time when she was a hostage (in my previous fic but there's no need to read it before. no major references as usual), mention of shooting. penelope garcia slaying. glasses read one more time (will i ever get bored of this?) a lot of jokes (successful i hope) most of the fic is very fluffy, inspired by new year's eve by taylor swift (i recommend listening to this song on repeat while reading)

𝐚/𝐧: this is probably one of my fav fics of mine, i literally cried while writing (because there's no one to clean up the bottles with me on new year's day)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 6k

“Okay, I think we’ve got everything. Although, do you think we have enough types of cheese...?”

“There’s so much cheese it won’t even fit on one board, Pen.”

“Exactly, so maybe we should make two…”

“Hey, look. Do you think these glasses will work for champagne?”

“Two boards—one with cheese, more savory, and the other with…”

“Because I don’t think I have any others. Jesus, I need to wash these; they’re fucking sticky…”

“…and on the second one, we’ll arrange the cookies we’re going to bake…”

“Shit, the cookies. I’m not even sure if this oven works…”

“Wait, did we even buy olives? Fuck, how could we forget olives…”

“Screw the olives! Wash the glasses if you can, and I’ll check the oven…”

“What do you mean, screw the olives?! How the fuck are you supposed to make a cheese board without olives?!”

For about twenty minutes now, you and Garcia had been running around the kitchen in your house, talking over each other non-stop and hardly listening. A grocery bag sat unopened on the kitchen island, you hadn’t started preparing a single one of your overly ambitious snacks, and some pesky gremlin was doing flips on your shoulder, whispering tauntingly, you know it’s highly likely the milk in your fridge is expired, right?

Well, that’s just how it goes when you decide to throw a New Year’s Eve party spontaneously—on New Year’s Eve afternoon. Honestly, it was a fucking miracle so many people agreed to come. And once they said yes, there was no backing out. You had to organize everything: the food, decorating your house, outfits, makeup. With every passing minute, Penelope was transforming into a full-blown organizational beast, completely unsure what to tackle first. The two cute space buns on top of her head had fallen apart, leaving her blonde curls loosely cascading down her neck—not that she even seemed to notice.

You, on the other hand, were losing steam fast. All you wanted was to curl up in a ball on the floor and eat cheese without bothering to arrange it on a board in an aesthetic way. Two types of people under time pressure. 

To make matters worse, the doorbell rang.

“Coming!” you shouted, your voice so filled with irritation that, if you were in the visitor’s shoes, you’d have turned and run for your life. Quickly, you opened the fridge and sniffed the damned milk. No signs of spoilage, thank fuck. There was no way you had time to go back to the store…

You made it to the door, and halfway there, you realized you were still holding the open bottle of milk you had forgotten to put back. You sighed, turned around, and with a double dose of rage, anxiety, and sheer insanity, you finally opened the door.

"Hey," Reid greeted, standing on the doorstep. His glasses were perched on his nose, and his hair was slightly tousled from the rather strong wind that day. Without even looking at you, he pointed to the brown bag hanging from his shoulder. "So, about those board games, when you invited me, I decided to look something up online and ordered one that I think you'll like. It's inspired by the works of Jane Austen, and players take on the roles of characters from the Regency era..."

"Is someone trying to sell you something, or what?" You heard Penelope's voice from the kitchen.

"Anyway, I ordered it, but unfortunately, it didn’t arrive, so I just grabbed chess and..."

You could only manage a confused shake of your head.

"Reid, with all due respect, but what the hell are you talking about?"

He looked at you as if you’d asked him for the juicy details of raccoon marital life.

"You invited me over for New Year’s," he reminded you, frowning slightly, as if wondering whether he’d gotten something wrong—like the day, maybe. "Me and Garcia. We were supposed to play board games..."

Your mouth dropped open as you suddenly remembered he was absolutely right. You had invited him. For board games. And then forgot to cancel after you’d all decided to spend the evening in a completely different way.

"Give me just a second," you said, and without waiting for a reply, slammed the door in his face.

Then you screamed. Stomping your foot like a frustrated child. Why, oh why, did you have the memory of a goldfish? Forgetting literally everything, from buying those damn olives to canceling this meeting. Why did the last day of the year have to suck so much? Why couldn’t anything in your life just go smoothly?

"The plans have… slightly changed," you explained with an apologetic smile when you reopened the door. 

Reid rocked slightly on his heels, his hand clenched around the strap of his bag. He had clearly heard what happened after you closed the door and looked as though he was debating whether to hand you a note with the number of a good psychiatrist.

"But that doesn't mean I'm kicking you out," you assured him quickly. "I’m really, really glad you decided to come, seriously. So, sorry about how things turned out. But still—will you come in? Garcia's here."

He shrugged and followed you inside.

"What exactly does plans have changed mean?" he asked.

He didn’t look around the room—he’d been to your house countless times before. Lately, for the past few months, with an increasing frequency. But he did stare curiously at a disheveled Penelope, who was busy loading glasses into the dishwasher.

"Well, we met up for lunch," she began explaining without even turning to face him. You didn’t waste the little time you had either, pulling ingredients for cookies out of the fridge. "We talked a bit about Derek and Elle spending New Year’s Eve in the Maldives. And our princess here decided that she wasn’t going to spend the evening in a nerdy way, playing nerdy board games, with two nerds like us..."

"I didn’t say that!" you protested indignantly.

"...while they’re sipping cocktails on the beach and having a great time. And so, it turned out we’re throwing a party."

The explanation came to an end, and Reid listened to it all without much emotion on his face, something you caught out of the corner of your eye. But you didn’t expect him to be devastated. After all, it wasn’t as if you had canceled an event the two of you had been counting down to like prisoners marking days on their cell walls, eagerly awaiting freedom.

Standing by the kitchen island, he glanced at you, then at Garcia, then behind him, as if unsure whether he should stay or politely excuse himself and leave.

“You’re invited, by the way,” you clarified, because while you thought it was obvious, maybe it wasn’t so clear to him. “So, yeah, if you’re planning to come, you have no choice—you have to help me bake these cookies. Get with it.”

You tossed him one of the aprons. The other you began tying around your waist.

Reid caught the object you threw, looked at it with furrowed brows, then shifted his gaze to you, a hint of something resembling a smile flickering across his face.

“Who said I’m planning to come?” he asked.

His mock-offensive tone didn’t quite match what he was doing—slipping the apron over his head. It made you snort.

“Oh, what, got other plans, pretty boy?” Penelope teased. “Some wild party at the book club?”

She leaned over to close the dishwasher. But instead of straightening up, she froze in place, staring at her reflection in the machine’s door. Her jaw dropped, and she gasped in something close to horror.

“What happened to my hair? I look... I look like…”

“Like a homeless caveman who just barely won a fight with lightning?” you suggested in a syrupy tone. “But only just.”

“Excuse me for a moment,” she huffed.

She left the kitchen, the sound of her heels echoing as she headed upstairs to the bathroom. Reid turned to himself with a smug expression.

“Does a caveman qualify as homeless if he lives in a cave…”

You interrupted him with your outstretched hand, pressing it to his mouth.

“Cookies, Reid. Not philosophy.”

You were planning to bake simple butter cookies in the shape of stars, and then decorate them with edible glitter. You started pulling out all the necessary ingredients from the fridge and cabinets, which were soon covering the countertop in your kitchen. You stood side by side, and your eyes were drawn to the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt, barely touching his wrists. Unable to resist, you grabbed his hand and started rolling the sleeves up to his elbows.

"You could've just told me..." he began, looking at you in surprise.

You merely shrugged. You found yourselves facing each other, and you nodded towards his other hand, which he gave you after a brief hesitation. Just like before, you rolled up the sleeve of his shirt, but this time much more slowly. As more of his skin appeared before your eyes, you gathered yourself to speak.

"I feel a bit bad about how things turned out with the games," you admitted, not looking up to meet his gaze. You focused on his hand, holding it by the knuckles.

"It's okay," he reassured you, his voice soft without a hint of reproach.

"I should've warned you earlier," you continued stubbornly. "Instead of doing it last minute. And, you know, if you don't want to come to this party, that's totally okay. I know you were expecting something different..."

"I was expecting to spend time with you," he interrupted, then paused to clear his throat. It was then that you realized you were still holding his hand. His fingers trembled slightly when you let go, and he immediately shoved it into his pocket—perhaps to hide it. "We can have a game night another time. On a different day. Like, this weekend, for example. If you'd want, of course. Not that I'm pressuring you..."

"I would like that," you assured him, looking up at him with a smile, amused by his over-explaining. It always charmed you. You used to think it was because you didn't know each other well and he still felt nervous around you, but as time passed, you came to realize that maybe that was just how he was. "Seriously. And it's not just because I feel guilty about how I left you hanging today. I'm genuinely curious about that game you ordered. It’s inspired by Austen's novels, right?"

He started to tell you more about it, while you both added the first ingredients into a large glass bowl. As he began to knead the dough with his hands, you leaned your elbow on the countertop, propping your chin on your hand, listening to him.

"...one of the symbols of excess in 17th century England was a dish called A Pie of a Thousand Birds..."

You wondered when the conversation had shifted to this topic, while Penelope was still in the bathroom.

 "...containing various kinds of birds, sometimes in different layers, cooked together. In the earliest records of this dish, it mentions anywhere from a dozen to several dozen birds such as quails, chickens, geese..."

Reid suddenly stopped when his gaze landed on you. He must have been so absorbed in kneading the dough and sharing this tidbit with you that he was completely unaware of the fact that you were staring at him.

You raised an eyebrow questioningly.

 "Is something wrong?"

"No," he quickly assured you, adjusting his glasses on his nose. He had a bit of dough on his skin, which seemed to escape his notice. He furrowed his brow, trying to remember where he'd left off. "And... quails..."

You couldn't bring yourself to tell him he'd already mentioned them. Instead of that, you moved from your spot, slowly lifting your hands off the counter and approached him to wipe away the stray bit of dough beneath his eye. Reid, wanting to make sure nothing else was left on his face, wiped it with his hand… which was completely covered in dough. At the sight of his expression when he realized what he had done, you couldn't help but burst out laughing, your head resting against his apron from the weight of it. Meanwhile, he desperately tried to wipe away the remnants using the clean skin of his forearms, muttering a few curses under his breath, which only made you laugh harder.

"I see you're having a great time," Penelope returned to the kitchen.

On top of her head were two cute buns once again, resembling little snails.

"The best," you corrected, undeterred, trying once more to wipe his face. This time, not as gently as before, until he flinched back under the pressure of your hand, scrunching his nose tightly.

You glanced at the clock, and your playful mood started to wane. There was still so much to do, and you rallied everyone into action. Penelope rolled up her sleeves to prepare the charcuterie boards (it turned out the olives were at the bottom of the bag), you got to work on the mini sandwiches, and Reid was busy cutting out star shapes from the rolled-out dough using a champagne bottle as a makeshift rolling pin.

“Oh, by the way, Pen,” you began, opening the heated oven to put in the first batch of cookies, “we’re still going to kiss at midnight, right?”

“That’s right, sweetheart. Nothing’s changed,” your friend replied, focused on arranging various types of cheese into the best possible combination.

Reid, meanwhile, was taking off his apron, folding it into a perfectly neat square, a frown of concentration on his face.

“Why kiss specifically at midnight?” he asked.

“You haven’t heard about that tradition?” you asked, surprised. “A kiss at midnight brings good luck in love and relationships for the whole next year. Skipping it means the opposite.”

“I didn’t know you were superstitious.”

“It’s just a gesture. Or maybe, better put, a symbol. But anyway, last year I was having a bit too much fun and passed out before midnight. And, well, I don’t think I need to tell you it wasn’t the best year for relationships. Or rather, the lack of them.”

“Doesn’t that mean you should kiss two people this year? One for the previous year and one for the current one?” Garcia suggested thoughtfully.

You mulled it over as well.

“Actually, that makes sense. But who?”

“I’m sure you’ll find someone,” your friend assured you. “There’s bound to be some handsome volunteer. And if not, Reid could always be your backup option.”

You glanced at him briefly, biting your lip as you considered the suggestion. Funny enough, you hadn’t thought of him at all. Not because you found the idea of kissing him unpleasant or something you wouldn’t want to do. It was just… this tradition felt more like grabbing a random person, the first friend within reach. Something done without much thought—a gesture that, in this context, meant absolutely nothing serious.

Wait, but with Reid, would it mean something serious? Why the hesitation all of a sudden? You shook your head, dismissing the train of thought.

You looked at him again; he seemed to be making a deliberate effort to keep his gaze fixed on Penelope, not on you. Though as soon as he sensed you looking at him, he turned his eyes to meet yours, his expression unreadable.

“What do you think?” you asked before you could stop yourself. To ease the sudden, inexplicable tension, you added with a playful smile, “My entire romantic year would rest in your hands—or rather, on your lips. Would you be ready to take on such a sacrifice?”

“Think carefully, darling,” Penelope chimed in, pointing a finger at him. “Otherwise, we’ll all have to spend the next twelve months listening to her complain about how awful men are and how unlucky she is in love…”

“I’m starting to feel an unjustified amount of pressure,” Reid remarked cautiously. You kept staring at him, arms crossed over your chest as you stood near the oven, its orange glow casting a warm light across the kitchen.

“No pressure. And just so we’re clear, it’s not like I’m taking advantage of you. You’d benefit from this too. Unless, of course, you decide to kiss someone else—then, fine…”

“Considering I probably won’t know anyone else at this party? Slim chances…”

A snort escaped you before you could stop it. Both of them turned to you with curiosity.

“What I mean…” you began hesitantly, gesturing toward him. He was objectively handsome—maybe not every woman’s type, but then again, no man was. In your opinion, though, he absolutely was. There was something about his polished, intellectual demeanor that occasionally clashed with his sharp wit, creating a strangely magnetic allure. You gestured at him again, as if emphasizing your point. “Just try not rolling down the sleeves of that shirt until midnight, and you’ll see your chances aren’t that slim.”

He shook his head, utterly bewildered.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Oh, Pen, explain it to him,” you sighed in mock defeat.

“She means your forearms are sexy,” Penelope clarified without missing a beat.

Reid looked down at his hands as though they belonged to someone else entirely. You exchanged an amused glance with Garcia, and the whole midnight kiss topic… well, it drifted away. You weren’t entirely sure if he had agreed or not.

You wanted to casually bring it up again, but soon Penelope left the kitchen, leaving the two of you alone with a tray of freshly baked cookies ready to be decorated. Somehow, to your own surprise, you couldn’t summon the courage to ask.

"I bought edible glitter specifically for these cookies," you said, pulling a small box from the cupboard. "Apparently, it’s flavorless, but it’ll make the star-shaped cookies look magical. Maybe we should mix it with the icing?"

Reid stared intently at the label on the bottle, silent.

"What? What’s wrong?" you asked, suddenly worried.

"That’s not edible glitter," he announced. For a split second, you thought you saw the corner of his mouth twitch. But when he noticed your completely bewildered—and now slightly furious—expression, his face quickly returned to its usual stillness. "It’s just regular glitter."

"You’ve got to be kidding me, Reid."

"Since when does edible glitter contain polyethylene terephthalate and aluminum?"

You snatched the package out of his hands, and when his words were confirmed, you slapped your forehead.

"Did I just almost kill all my guests?"

"Maybe not kill them right away," he said, his tone comforting as he took the package back from your hands before you could hit yourself with it again. "Complications from eating include gastrointestinal irritation like vomiting, nausea, and possibly damage to the mucous membranes of the mouth..."

"You're not helping."

"Sorry."

For a moment, you both stood in silence, your gaze still fixed on the tray of cooling cookies.

"But this isn't the end of the world," Reid said gently after a moment. "They still have their... interesting shape. We can decorate them with regular icing. Draw something on them. They may not sparkle, but they'll be just as delicious. And that's probably the most important thing, right?"

You knew he was right, but still, there was a certain sadness in the way you nodded. It took you a while to realize how much you’d been obsessing over such a small thing. You let out a chuckle, and he did the same.

"And I even came up with an idea for what to do with the glitter," you announced after a moment, taking the open box in your hands. A bit of the shimmering particles landed on your outstretched palm, and Reid squinted when you blew on it, sending the glitter his way. "I’ll make you shine. You’ll match the rest of the decorations..."

When Penelope returned to the kitchen, she found herself in the middle of a full-blown war, not even a battle anymore. Reid had both of your hands raised and held still, preventing you from reaching for another handful of glitter. You tried to wriggle out of this trap, kneeing him or doing something, but it wasn't really working. So there you were, looking like you were caught in some kind of bizarre dance neither of you knew the steps to, but your half-smiling faces suggested you weren’t too bothered by it.

You knew you wouldn’t be able to get that glitter out of your hair until the next New Year’s Eve.

*

You had a rule to be careful with alcohol when the party was at your house.

 You preferred to make sure everything was running smoothly. Nothing slipped out of control — no one played baseball with your TV (although you hoped the adult crowd had outgrown that kind of entertainment), no one felt unwell or needed help. Moving between people, conversations, and laughter, asking if anyone needed anything or was having a good time, reminding everyone not to smoke inside. You didn’t notice when it all started to drain you. So much so that you decided to sneak away for a moment in the upstairs bathroom.

You just needed a little time alone, splashing cold water on your neck, playing a game on your phone for five minutes while sitting on the closed toilet seat. That’s all you needed.

Your bathroom had a window, usually left open. The room was on the second floor, so there was no chance anyone could be watching. You never worried about it. The window overlooked the yard of one of your neighbors, whom you didn’t even know. As you returned, you stood with your hands on the cool sink, your eyes half-closed from exhaustion but feeling a sense of relief.

Midnight was in fifteen minutes. The year was ending in fifteen minutes.

A lot has happened over the past twelve months. The most important, of course, was joining the BAU. A huge achievement for someone so young, always commented on with a surprised raise of the eyebrows, so much so that it still hadn’t fully sunk in for you. A fair amount, but still not enough, of cases solved, unsub caught, lives saved.

Apart from the professional achievements, there was also something you couldn’t add to your CV or your dating profile. Memories. The big ones, and the ones often overlooked. The countless smiles exchanged over office desks, the amused nudges of elbows, the hours spent in simple laughter. The nights, the ones spent dancing in clubs or at house parties, the ones in your friends' homes with bottles of wine passed from hand to hand and gossip flowing from your lips, one after the other, in a constant stream of surprised exclamations and sighs. There were also those spent in sad motels during business trips. Many of them, but it was the shabby ones that stuck with you the most. Narrow beds shared with Reid, because of his fear of the dark, which worsened in such places. Sometimes silly conversations and arguments, but also the more serious ones. Comforting. And, of course, you had to include the people around you, those you met this year, and those who have been with you for a long time. All the moments when you were happy, and all the ones when you cried. The books and movies. Those that disappointed you so much that you cursed them for days. Those that made you laugh until you choked, but also the ones that nailed you to the theater seat, your gaze vacant and your mind drifting somewhere on the waves of an existential crisis.

You thought about it all with a small smile on your lips

Unfortunately, when you focused on reflecting on the passing year, another memory hit you—one of those decidedly unpleasant ones. The one where, under the guise of normality, you found yourself in the middle of a robbery, becoming a hostage. And as you watched one body after another drop motionless to the floor, blood pooling around them.

The sink you were leaning against grew warm. Your hands were hot, sweating. You shook your head, trying to push away the uncomfortable memory. Why dwell on it? It was over, long over...

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a flash in your neighbor's yard. A bright spot rising into the air, even though it wasn't even midnight yet. What kind of idiot sets off fireworks before the New Year? What was the point of that?

You straightened up, an irrational sense of danger taking hold of you. As if that fired projectile was about to crash through your window, causing an explosion in the room. Absurd, you knew that. But then the sound hit. A blast, almost like a gunshot. A gunshot coming from an unknown direction, fading lights around you, and screams. You took a breath as another shot rang out. Fireworks lit up the night sky, a green glow spilling into your bathroom, painting your face. You stayed frozen, breath held, with your chest tight.

You knew you should move, shake off the state that the experience had put you in, but… you couldn’t. Although physically unharmed, in your own home, fear took control, robbing you of your agency. Your heartbeat quickened to an unnatural pace, a sickly rhythm. It paralyzed your limbs, one by one, while images kept flashing before your eyes, intensifying with each approaching shot.

Since your actions and most of your awareness remained beyond your control, you soon realized that you were sitting on the floor. And, worst of all, a silhouette cast its shadow over you. You flinched, expecting to see a pair of leather boots and a gun pointed at you.

“It’s just me,” came a quiet, familiar voice, somehow cutting through the wall that separated you from the world. “Me, Spencer. Sorry I came in, but you didn’t respond when I knocked... okay, that doesn’t really matter right now.”

He sighed and crouched down right in front of you, his forehead furrowed in concern. Hesitantly, he reached for your shoulder, lightly touching it, but you flinched the moment his hand moved.

“No touching, it’s okay. I understand, I get it. I understand... what you’re going through.” He spoke quietly and calmly, but you could see a hint of panic crossing his face as he carefully observed yours, choosing his words. He swallowed hard. “You’re really scared, your hands are shaking, you can’t... you can’t breathe. It’s a panic attack, you know what that means. And... it’s temporary. The important thing is to just breathe. I know it’s hard... but just try…”

The surrounding air seemed thick, like some dense gas filling your nostrils and painfully entering your lungs. You shook your head in refusal, not wanting to do it again.

"Slowly, they don’t have to be deep breaths. Just try to make them steady, okay? Please," he continued, settling down closer to you on the floor. He was also breathing the way he described, trying to demonstrate for you. Focusing on the rise and fall of his chest, you made another attempt. It went... better.

"Exactly like that. We're at a party now, remember? At your house. We baked cakes specially for the occasion. It's New Year's Eve and people are shooting fireworks... those are fireworks, just regular fireworks..."

The green glow crept in again through the window, covering and retreating from your two huddled forms on the floor like a tide. You focused on what he was saying, alternately keeping your eyes tightly shut and wide open. You preferred them closed—it was easier to listen to him that way. But when you closed them, it felt like he was so far away. You reached out with trembling hands, trying to touch him, to make sure he was really there in front of you. And before you realized it, you fell into his embrace, your hands clutching his back in panic with every new shot outside.

You could close your eyes; his presence and scent were with you. You could close your eyes, pretend it wasn’t happening, that you weren’t there.

But it didn’t stop. Reid whispered that it was midnight, and the next round of fireworks shot into the sky, sending those trembling sounds that rattled you. A part of your mind knew why this was happening, so why did your body still react this way?

You buried yourself deeper into his arms, feeling some weight on the top of your head—he must have rested his chin there. You kept trying to breathe, and by accident, you inhaled the scent of his neck, which, surprisingly, helped. One breath after another. In and out. His skin. Another shot outside. In and out.

It must have been many minutes before it finally stopped. You both ended up leaning against the wall, side by side. Your knees were pulled to your chest, his legs stretched out. From downstairs, through the floor, came the muffled sound of music, and that’s what you focused on. On that, and on counting the tiles on the neighboring wall, on the hands of Reid’s watch moving forward. On the details, helping you ground yourself.

"How do you feel now?" he broke the silence that had lasted for several minutes with a quiet question.

You pressed the back of your head to the wall behind you, closing your eyes for a moment.

"Better," you said after a moment. The sound from your throat was raspy, and you swallowed, pausing for a second. "Isn't it... isn't it a strange twist of fate that we're always there for each other when something bad happens to the other person?"

You kept your gaze fixed ahead, and from the corner of your eye, you saw him looking at you. Slowly, he shrugged.

"Isn't that what friendship is about?" he asked.

Then, you shrugged.

"Friendship," you repeated, turning the word around on your tongue. You shook your head slightly. "I guess so. I mean, I guess that's what it's about." For a moment, you paused, lightly licking your lips. Your mind was still clouded, and you struggled to form coherent sentences. "I completely forgot what I was talking about a moment ago. What was it about again?"

Reid smiled gently at the look on your face, the expression confused but calm. And then... his hand slowly dropped to the top of your head, gently stroking it and sliding down along your cheek, where it stopped.

"Friendship," he repeated slowly.

Suddenly, as if realizing something, he turned his head slightly, as if to pull his hand away, but you stopped him. You grabbed it, and even though it had moved away from your face, your cheek, you enclosed it in a gentle grasp with both of your hands, the way a shell embraces a pearl.

You noticed the time on his watch.

"It’s already past midnight," you remarked. "Do you think everyone’s too drunk to look for us, or do they just honestly not care what we've been doing in the bathroom for the past hour?"

He chuckled at your words, amused by your suggestive tone.

"Don’t want to go back?" he asked, making sure.

You immediately shook your head.

"Not yet. I like it here. And I guess I’m not ready," you said, the last part tinged with a slight embarrassment. He nodded understandingly, signaling that it was okay. You didn’t have to leave yet.

You sighed, probably for the hundredth time.

"Honestly, I’ve completely lost my party mood. We could’ve played those board games instead. When I think about the bottles I’ll have to clean up tomorrow, I just feel like I might puke."

"We'll be here. Me. And Garcia," he reminded you. "You thought we were just going to disappear together, expecting you to clean up all this mess by yourself?"

"It's not really your responsibility," you replied with a slight shrug. However, a small, grateful smile tugged at your lips. "It would have been enough if you helped me set it all up. Even if it meant the entire kitchen glittering with sparkles before the party even started."

"New Year’s Eve decorations."

"Right," you scoffed. "That I’ll never get rid of. It will always look like a place where My Little Pony ponies had an alcoholic binge."

As you continued to stare at his hand, lying limp on your lap, and at his watch, you realized something else. A thought that made you tilt your head back with a sigh.

"I missed midnight again," you groaned suddenly. "Third year in a row. Where am I supposed to find three people to kiss next year, when I couldn't even find two this time?"

"You did manage," Reid pointed out, frowning slightly. "Penelope. And if you're counting your backup option, that would be me too."

"Would you?" you asked, surprised.

Pleasantly surprised. This subject had slipped by so quickly that you were sure his final answer would have been a no. You glanced fleetingly at his lips. They were slightly parted, probably in the same way they would have been if everything had gone according to plan. If you had found yourselves facing each other under the full, colorful-blinking night sky.

He nodded slightly in response, his upper and lower lips meeting. You tore your gaze away from them and refocused on the rest of his face.

"Sure," he replied aloud. He was close, the words escaping him with a slight breath of his air. "I mean... I'd also like to have a good year. So far, it’s started well. Anyway... yeah. I don't mind if you extend my backup option subscription for next year too."

The way he phrased it amused you. you lowered your gaze for a moment with a smile. Then you nodded, turning your head back toward him.

"So I guess I have my lineup for next New Year's," you said, letting go of his hand to start counting on your fingers. Both of you only realized then that you had been holding it at all. "First, of course, my husband..."

"Husband?" he interrupted, raising an eyebrow.

"I’m being very ambitious this year, Reid," you assured him, with mock seriousness. "Then Garcia, if she agrees again. But she probably will. Unless Derek gets in the way. Oh well, I’ll just send him to the tropics again. And then, number three, you."

"Your husband won’t mind if you kiss me?"

Something changed in his expression, and it was becoming harder for you to maintain eye contact. Your gaze kept dropping, as if it were searching for something against your will. Plus, the whole bathroom suddenly felt incredibly small, your movements slow, like in slow motion. You forced yourself to wave it off dismissively.

"He’ll understand," you said, forcing yourself to take a breath. You had forgotten again, but this time, it wasn’t panic. It was more about his face, so close to yours, the side of your head against the wall, your bodies nearly touching. "Well, he won’t have a choice. If he wants our marriage to last happily and forever, he’ll have to let me make up for all those lost years, those three missed kisses. Sorry... if I’m talking nonsense right now, just tell me, I don’t know what’s happening with me..."

When he kissed you, for a moment, you couldn’t find yourself. Even though everything had been leading to this, with your faces so close for the last twenty minutes, gazes repeatedly falling on each other's lips, it still surprised you. You sucked in a breath through your nose as his lips pressed into yours.

Only when his hand, the same one you had been playing with for so long, the one that had earlier caressed your cheek, fell back into the same place, carelessly resting and brushing the tips of his fingers against a small part of your ear, did you truly feel it. You squeezed your eyelids shut, placing your hand on the back of his neck, pulling him closer. It wasn’t the kind of kiss you usually associated with New Year’s Eve, one you’d forget the next day or mention with a fleeting smile. Every thought of it was meant to bring overwhelming loneliness to your lips, to make you imagine it still lasting. It alternated between tasting you slowly and carefully and consuming you with the anticipation held captive between you.

You sighed softly against his lips, and he mirrored it when you briefly pulled away. Your breaths mingled, your faces still close, foreheads gently touching.

“I almost forgot,” you whispered, barely lifting your eyelids. “Happy New Year.”

He smiled, his lips brushing yours once more for a fleeting moment.

“May your wishes come true...or something like that.”

“Or something like that.” you whispered, completely distracted, before pulling him back to you again.

taglist: @she-wont-miss @mggslover @nyeddleblog @dylanobrienswife0420 @wmoony

@heddgie @khxna @marauder-exe-old @yujyujj @charleyreid @kitty-kai @sp3ncelle @pleasantwitchgarden @beesin03 @misserabella @re1dsb1xch @trulymadlydarling

[steddieas-shegoes]

what does a barbie mean?

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt 'hanukkah'

all of my holiday drabbles will be from the bear hugs universe. many of them could probably be read standalone, but will make the most sense and be enjoyed best if you read that first!

rated g | 633 words | no cw | tags: established relationship, fluff

🕎🕎🕎🕎🕎🕎🕎🕎🕎🕎🕎🕎🕎

When Steve picks Rory up from her friend’s birthday party, she’s surprisingly quiet. Usually after parties, she’s bouncing off the walls, blaming the cake and ice cream and soda and goodie bags full of candy.

By the time they get home, Steve’s getting concerned at her silence.

“Hey green bean, you okay?” He asks as they park in the garage. Eddie’s at work for another hour, so he has to do this alone.

He got used to not having to do this stuff alone anymore.

“Mhm,” Rory answers as she unbuckles her seatbelt. It’s not convincing and Steve turns to tell her that. She’s not looking at him, though.

“Do you wanna talk about something? Did anything happen at the party?” Steve asks. He shouldn’t push, but he’s worried that someone was mean to her. Rory can handle herself, but she’s still human, and she’s still a kid, and words can hurt.

“Nothing happened,” she says, but Steve’s not convinced.

“You can tell me anything.”

Rory finally looks up at him. “How come Santa doesn’t bring Sarah and Rebecca presents? They’re good all year.”

Oh. Well, this is definitely better than he expected, and way easier to explain or fix. No one bullied her, she’s just confused.

“You know how Sarah and Rebecca celebrate Hanukkah instead of Christmas?” Rory nods. “Well, for Hanukkah, they don’t need Santa to bring them presents because the family gets all the gifts and they have special meanings to them.”

“What does a new Barbie mean?” Rory asks.

“I think it just means that Sarah is six and wants a Barbie,” Steve laughs.

“But how come they have eight Christmases in a row?”

Steve briefly explains what he knows about Hanukkah, which is not as much as he should know.

And they go inside and look up more information, because Rory is a curious child and Steve never wants her to stop learning.

And when Eddie gets home, she starts telling him all about how Sarah and Rebecca get to light a candle every night and their dad says a prayer and maybe they could light their own Christmas candle on Christmas Eve.

That weekend, they go straight to the library to get a book about the dreidel game, and make a stop at the store to find chocolate coins. Eddie tags along, a little confused about how serious Rory is taking this, but enthusiastic about playing any game that leads to eating chocolate.

The fascination with Hanukkah ends rather abruptly two days later, when she hears Rebecca talking about jelly doughnuts. Rory hates doughnuts with fillings.

Steve doesn’t bother telling her that it’s not a requirement to eat them for Hanukkah, and he gives Eddie a look to stop him before he does.

“I think we should just have Christmas like we always do,” Rory says. Steve nods like he knew this would be her decision the entire time.

Eddie leans over to whisper in his ear. “Was there a chance we were converting to Judaism?”

Steve shakes his head. “She did this with Chinese New Year two years ago and Dia de los Muertos three years ago. She’s just a curious kid.”

Eddie nods, immediately understanding and knowing that she’ll probably find another way to celebrate something next year, and many years after that. He was the same way as a kid, even remembers one year when he learned what Mardi Gras was and made Wayne buy them all dollar store beads and a King Cake at the grocery store.

“Can we keep the candles though?” Rory asks.

“Yeah, those are nice candles,” Eddie looks at Steve to confirm.

“Sure,” Steve laughs, fond as he can be over his two favorite people being so in sync, even with something like this. “We can keep the candles.”

[ohmystaxk]

For there is beauty | Chapter One: What is science, if not risks?

[MASTERLIST] | [NEXT]

Tags/Warnings: Time Travel, Jayce is a Sweetheart, Jayce and Reader are childhood friends, Idiots in Love, Reader has a backstory, Undercity!Reader, Cait is Jayce and Reader's little sister, Protective Jayce, Jayce's Love Language is Physical Touch, Mutual Pining, Viktor-centric, Sassy Viktor, Viktor Needs a Hug, Viktor has a crush on Reader, Accidental Fake Dating, Miscommunication, Slow Burn Jayce/Reader/Viktor, Eventual Jayce/Viktor, Reader is greedy, Smut, Slow Romance, Romance, Canon Related, Possible AU timelines, Fluff, Angst, Reader has parents, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Not Beta Read

Summary: Life was simple. You woke up each morning, and walked the streets of Piltover with Jayce by your side, joking and laughing while Cait could only roll her eyes at the two of you. You worked hard on your research and studied double as much at the Academy to prove your worth. Each day was the same, but that was until you crossed paths with Professor Heimerdinger's assistant at the library one day. His name escaped you, but that never stopped your curiosity for the man. Viktor, he said his name was. And you left the library with that, not expecting to cross paths with him again.

It was then the nightmares began, dreadful glimpses of a world you wish to never exist. A world empty of life, happiness, and freedom. But they were only that, nightmares, nothing more. So why did they feel so vivid? So real, and tangible?

N/A: hello everyone! just like everyone else, I folded and started writing for arcane. I have only watched the show, so my knowledge is ONLY from it! english is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes you might encounter along the way.

I currently have 3 chapters written for the fic and I cannot wait to show them to all of you!

I have created playlists that I encourage you to listen to while reading (spotify, yt music and apple music) this fic!

spotify yt music apple music

I will also be uploading this to my ao3: @ohmystaxk

Track List: 1.Breakfast with Lou 2.Bewitched 3.Cinnamon Girl

The warmth was the first thing you noticed, something almost comforting. You let out a breath you were not aware you were holding in the first place. The blood in your body rose to your head as something touched your forehead; that same warmth now replaced your blood, running down every vein, clinging to each cell. It was becoming one with you.

“We were always one .” A voice, distorted and unfamiliar, spoke.

Your heart is empty of blood, only pumping warmth. Your chest is heavy, your lungs chasing for that last bit of air.

“Do not be afraid.” The touch on your forehead shifted to your cheek. “I am right here with you.”

You wanted to open your eyes, look around, and find where that voice originated. You tried to turn your head around, but the touch on your cheek moved to your chin, holding your face in place. Even when the touch was demanding, you did not feel threatened.

“Soon, you will see. ” The voice was different, almost that of a woman. “Truly see what has been hiding underneath. It is time for you to go back. ”

Your body suddenly regained its bearings, jolting you awake as you gasped. The morning light blinded you, forcing your eyes to close once again. Your heart beating worryingly fast, your head felt heavy, and your body tingled. The sound of faraway voices made your head snap towards it, your brows furrowed as footsteps crept closer your way. Then a knock came from the door of your bedroom.

“Are you awake? Did you stay up too late again?”

When you recognized the voice, you pushed the comforter away and stood up from your bed. Your head spun, and your vision went blurry. Suddenly, your knees hit the floor.

Your door flew open.

“Hey, what's wrong?” A pair of hands touched you, one on your back and the other on your forearm. “What happened?”

You grabbed your head with one hand, frowning from the buzzing feeling.

“I don’t think I’m feeling too good right now, Jayce.” Looking up to meet his eyes, you only saw worry in them.

“Yeah, no kidding.” He scoffed awkwardly.

He moved his hand on your arm towards your elbow while the other took your waist.

With some effort, he helped you stand up, walking you back to your bed.

“How did you get in?” You asked once you sat back down at the edge of the mattress.

“I remembered where you keep the spare key.” Jayce stood in front of you, his eyes looking around your room.

“Is everything alright?” You heard a voice coming from somewhere in your apartment.

“Did you bring Cait here with you?” You asked the man with a whisper, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Yeah, she wanted to come over to the workshop again.” Jayce crouched, amber eyes taking in your features. “Cait!” He called out to the girl.

“Yes?” She answered quickly, a bit of a tremble in her voice.

“Could you bring me a glass of water, please?”

“Oh...Yes!” You then hear the girl walk to what you knew to be your kitchen.

“Hey.” You looked back at Jayce, not realizing you had started to space out. “What are you feeling? Do you need us to take you to a clinic?”

“No-. Just…I’m just a bit dizzy, that’s all.”

Caitlyn entered the room, glass of water in hand as she eyed you. It was a similar look to the one Jayce was giving you.

“Thanks, Cait.” Jayce looked over his shoulder, and the girl walked over and handed him the glass.

“Are you alright?” She hugged herself, head tilted to the side.

“I will be, just a minute.” You sighed, bringing your hand to your temple.

“Here.” Jayce gently handed you the glass, keeping his hand on yours. “I still think we should take you to a clinic.”

“You look pale.” Cait pointed out, leaning against the small dresser in your room.

“I’ll be fine, I promise.” You rolled your eyes, scoffing as you finally took the glass and drank from it.

“Did you feel like this last night?” Jayce held the glass for you once you finished the water.

“No. I felt fine. I think…” Your mind wonders about your strange dream, and how it made you feel.

“What is it?” Jayce leaned closer, tilting his head to catch your gaze.

“I had a strange dream. It startled me. I felt just like I did now; I was dreading something.”

“What was it?” Cait asked, curiosity getting the best of her.

“I don’t know, my eyes were closed the entire time. I just heard a voice.”

Jayce frowned. He placed a gentle hand on your knee before he stood up.

“I think I will take Cait back to her house. I’ll come back with something for you to eat-.”

“No, I’m already feeling better, Jayce.” You stood up, your legs giving you the support you needed.

“You don’t have to exert yourself.”

“I’m not.” You looked at the man with a smile. “Besides, Cait and I know you will barely get things done if I’m not there to help.”

You gave his arm a quick squeeze. Then you walked towards your closet, opened it, and heard Jayce take a few steps.

“We can work on it once you feel better.”

“I feel better, Jayce.” You looked over your shoulder. The man sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m going to change and then we can head out.”

“Just-...Yell if you need anything.” He stepped back, then turned around, heading to the door. “Come on, Cait.”

The two of them walked out of the room, closing the door behind them.

You let out a heavy sigh, your hands going to your face. It was true that you were not feeling great, but you were feeling better than before. You stayed up late the night before, reviewing notes from Jayce's project, while also studying for your research paper. You had also forgotten to eat anything, perhaps that had affected you now.

Walking through the streets of Piltover alongside Jayce and Cait had become a bit of a routine for the three of you. Since Counsellor Kiramman had acquired the lab for Jayce, Caitlyn had started tagging along. Especially after she heard about your and Jayce’s projects. Cait was curious, always wanting to help the two of you with whatever was necessary. 

She seemed to enjoy watching you correct Jayce’s work, or talk to her about engineering and the theories for your research paper. It was funny really; two people in their twenties hanging out with a teenager, who they saw like a little sister. The truth was, Caitlyn, reminded you a lot of Jayce all those years ago. 

You opened the front door of your home, sunset had started to set by the time you arrived. You took off your bag and let it fall by the entrance, voices came from the kitchen, and you looked up to find your mother seated on the dining table, a woman across from her as the two laughed. Your mother’s gaze fell on you, a bright smile on her face as she widened her eyes.

“There you are! How was school, baby?” She stood up and gently placed the mug she had in hand on the table. “Come here, I want you to meet someone.”

You slowly approached the table, the other woman turned on her chair, and she smiled once she saw you. Her hair was a dark brown, almost black. Her eyes were light brown and she had a pretty mole next to her right eye.

“Oh, isn’t she adorable?” The woman said. Your mother met you halfway, placing a hand on your shoulder and the other between your shoulder blades, nudging you towards her.

“Say hi, baby.” Your mother brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Hello,” Your voice was small, just above a whisper. You played with your hands.

“Hello, your mother was just telling me about you. I’m Ximena, a friend.” She extended her hand to you, and with a trembling hand, you took it. “Oh, you are a bit shy. Please don’t be.”

“Ximena is a friend of your dad and me. She has a son your age, and we wanted the two of you to get to know each other.” Your mother explained with a smile. “Now, take a sit while I serve you dinner, you must be hungry by now.”

Your mother gently directed you towards the table, you took a seat and watched Ximena as she adjusted herself on her chair.

“Oh yes, my boy should be here any minute now. I believe the two of you go to the same school, but he is a year older than you, sweetheart.” At that you frowned, wondering who her son was out of all the boys in your school.

“Okay.” That was the only thing you could reply with. Under the table you kept playing with your hands, your nails picking at the skin.

“You didn’t tell me how school was? Did the professor grade the painting yet?” Your mother asked, your nails dug deeper into the flesh.

“I-it was okay. She liked it.”

“I’m glad she did! I told Ximena how hard you have been working on the art project.” You bit your lip, your vision blurring as you picked even more at the skin.

A knock came from the front door. Ximena stood up from her chair, fixing her skirt as she walked to the door.

“Must be my boy.” She said, you did not look up, your eyes focused on the markings on the table.

The door opened, and you tuned out the voices, your lips quivering as your vision became blurry. Your heart was heavy on your chest, and the next thing you knew, you heard your mother call your name.

In front of you was a boy, and his honey eyes were so bright and shiny. He smiled at you, a tooth gap on his front teeth. But his smile failed him, his brows furrowing as he looked at you.

“Sweetheart,” It was Ximena who spoke. “Are you alright?” You could hear the worry in her voice as you quickly stood up and ran to your room.

You shut the door behind you, falling face-first on the mattress as you started sobbing into the pillow. The door opened and you felt the weight shift the mattress someone sat down next to you.“What’s wrong?” Your mother brushed your hair away from your face. “Did something happen?”

You shook your head, sobbing even more. Your mother ran her fingers through your hair, traveling down to soothe your back.

“You know you can tell me anything, baby.”

“T-they they ri-pped the paint-ing.” You struggled in between sobs. Your mother immediately pulled you closer to her, hugging you tightly.

“Who did?” Your mother spoke at the top of your head.

“T-hey said I w-was an Under-city r-rat.” You cried even harder into the crook of your mother’s neck.

After your mother calmed you down and assured you the kids were wrong, she left you in your room to get you food. You lay in your bed, curled up as you traced the patterns on the wall.

“Did you paint those?” You quickly sat up on your bed, your head snapping to the door, standing there was Ximena’s son. His gaze was on one of the paintings on one of the walls of your room.

“M-my mom and me.” You replied, and your voice came out hoarse and small.

“And this one?” He pointed at another one, you now were by the edge of the bed, your legs barely touching the floor.

“Me.” When you said that, he turned to face you. Your face was puffed up, your eyes red from crying.

“I like it.” He said, and the boy walked up to you, he sat down on the bed next to you. “My name is Jayce.” You told him your name, and he smiled at you. “You have a pretty name.”

It was later you two shared your curiosity for science and inventions. You two finally found things in common; Magic, science, art, and literature. It was those moments that had led to your friendship of twelve years .

“Like I said, I was reviewing my notes.” You rolled your eyes. Jayce walked right beside you, your shoulders brushing.

“And are you sure to went straight to bed?” He leaned down a bit, wanting to see your face as you held the strap of your bag tightly. “Did you eat anything?”

“Well-.”

“I knew it!” He snapped his fingers, pointing forward as you tilted your head away with a sigh, closing your eyes. “I told you we could stop by and get some dinner.”

“I wasn’t hungry…” You looked at him.

Jayce’s hair was neatly styled. You could smell his aftershave as he leaned over, his arm reaching your right shoulder, pulling you closer to him.

“Aren’t you the one always reminding me to eat? Especially when I don’t want to.”

“You do always remind him.” Cait shimmed in. When you look to your right to narrow your eyes at her, she simply shrugs.

“Thanks, Cait.” Jayce now wrapped his arm over your shoulders, pulling you even closer. “Which is why we are grabbing a bite before we head to the studio.” You threw your head back.

“I need to stop by the library first.” You glanced up at Jayce, his amber eyes narrowing. “Just remembered that I need to get some books.”

“Right now?” He asked with a pointed look.

“Might as well, the library is right across.” You pointed with your eyes at the massive building across the street.

Jayce slowed down his steps, making you slow down as well.

“Your research paper?” He asked.

“Yeah.” You gave his chest a quick pat and pulled back a bit, his arm sliding over your back before he too pulled away. “I still need to finish the draft before I can start working on the actual paper.”

You adjusted the weight of your bag.

“Think you feel better to head on your own?” Jayce scratched his head, eying you as you laughed.

“Don’t worry, if I need a big strong man to help me, I’m sure I can find one there.” You slapped his arm with the back of your hand. Jayce rolled his eyes, scoffing at the comment. “I won’t stay long, how about you start heading over and grab me something to eat? I’ll see you two in a few.”

“You want the same thing from yesterday?” He asked as you were already starting to walk away.

“Sure, sounds good. Cait, keep an eye on this one, don’t let him wander off with strange women.” You smiled at the girl, and Cait simply laughed with a nod.

“I-. I don’t wander off!” He called out once you started crossing the street.

“Didn’t hear you deny the last part though!” You laughed as you ran, holding your bag tightly.

The Piltover library was massive, with three floors and an impressive collection, even containing two extra lower levels for more restricted books and archives. You immediately went to the second floor, walking past tall bookshelves. The sunlight was casting different colors due to the stained glass from the windows. Then you took a turn, finding the section you were looking for. You stopped when you saw that someone was standing at the other end. He had brown hair and a strong nose, his focus deep in a book. The man leaned on a cane, the light filtering from the stained glass casting a yellow glow on him.

With a thud, he closed the book he was reading. He placed the book back on the shelf, his eyes looking at the spines. You recognized him as Professor Heimerdinger's apprentice; his name escaped you. 

You fixed your bag, and you focused on the book titles closest to you, trying to see if you could find what you were looking for. But with every two books you looked at, your eyes could not help but glance towards him.

You had always seen him around the academy, always on his own. Whenever you saw him, he would be reading a book or writing something down in his notebook. You had asked about him out of curiosity a good number of times to other students, they also seemed to barely know anything about him. Then there were a couple that mentioned how his mysteriousness was rather, attractive. But the only thing that everyone seemed to agree on was that he was… gifted . He had to be if he had caught the attention of the Dean.

Without knowing, you were already standing shoulder to shoulder next to him. You accidentally bumped into him.

“I’m sorry!” You immediately uttered, your eyebrows shooting up and your face burning hot. “I was distracted.”

He already had another book in hand. He looked your way, seemingly also surprised. His eyes scanned you, falling on your eyes before he spoke.

“No need to worry.” He said with an accent you didn’t quite recognize, it sounded nice. “I didn’t see you.” It suits him.

The man took a step to the side to create some distance between the two of you.

“Sorry.” You said more quietly, your eyes glancing back and forth between him and the shelves.

As you tried your best to compose yourself, your eyes caught sight of a book you were looking for. You looked at him, making sure you were not in his way, and reached for it.

“Excuse me, going to grab this.” You called out. 

You needed to finish the research paper, three months had gone by so fast that trying to meet the deadline felt almost impossible.

Once you picked it up, you noticed a few more and quickly grabbed them. You stepped back with your stack of books and turned around, heading back to the main hall. 

That was until you heard his cane and feet shift.

“Those are about Astrophysics.” The man suddenly spoke again. Your eyes widened as you stood in place. “Is it curiosity or for research?”

 You looked over your shoulder, your eyes meeting with his bright amber eyes; they were similar to Jayce’s, but perhaps they were a bit lighter.

“B-both.” You were caught off guard. After many years and countless times of seeing him around the Academy; this was the first time you had interacted with him.

“Um.” He gave a quick nod. His eyes shifted towards your books before meeting your gaze once more.

“It’s research. For my final.” You fixed your posture, your body turning to face his.

“I have…seen you before, in the academy.” He stated, shifting his weight on the cane more comfortably.

“Yes, I’m part of the Engineering department.” You put the weight of the books on your hip. “Or I was. I was part of Professor Heimendinger’s lecture last summer.”

“Oh.” He’s eyebrows rose a fraction. “I remember now. You sat close to the middle row.”

You remembered when you and Jayce had arrived at the lecture for the first time. How excited he was, talking your ear off as the two of you sat down. You remembered how dark the auditorium always was, except for the chalkboard and the podium the Professor stood. It became a habit to always sit in the same spot, not out of preference, but it just did. Sometimes whenever someone decided to take those two spots, you and Jayce would jokingly say things like ‘ The audacity. ’ or ‘ We should start carving our names on the desk at this point. ’

It was then you remember seeing the assistant in the corner of the room many times, almost like he was hiding in the shadows. You would meet his eyes on occasion, even in the dark you were always impressed by how bright his eyes seemed to shine.

“Yes.” You let out a chuckle. Your eyebrows furrowing. How did he remember that? “And you are the Professor’s assistant.”

His eyes fell on your hips, taking note of your posture. “I am, yes.”

“How did you get the offer?” You fixed the hold on the books. “That’s a very big opportunity.”

“My charms I believe.” He shrugged. You smiled as you let out a laugh.

“Oh yes, those are very important.” You took a step forward. “Every inventor needs them.”

“Not everyone has those.” He grinned as he placed back the book he was holding on the shelf.

“Do I?” You played along.

He stopped his hand, his fingertips brushing the spine of the book. He raised an eyebrow, amber eyes staring at yours with curiosity.

“Um.” He eyed you. “What is it that intrigues you the most? Astrophysics or Engineering?”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. What a charmer , you thought.

“Why not both?” You tilted your head to the side with a grin.

He nodded with a smile. You noticed the moles adorning his cheek and upper lip.

“Well, what is it about Astrophysics that made you want to pursue it?”

“The many unanswered questions space holds from us; about gravity, the sun, and the moon. But I didn’t get into Astrophysics for that only. I am searching for something more, something out there in the universe.”

“Which is?” He took a step forward.

“Magic.” You answered breathlessly. “Time, space, the possibility of actions and consequences. What other possibilities those could have led to.”

“Time travel.” He answered, his eyes widen a fraction.

“Multiple timelines possibly coexisting within the same plane. I believe the Arcane is capable of that.”

He looked at you, his eyes shifting between yours and the books still resting on your hip.

“The Arcane is wild magic…not something science could master.”

“You’re right, but I believe science could help us understand magic.” You started talking with your hand. “I’m not thinking of bending the Arcane to science’s will. But I wish to find an understanding.”

The two of you stood there in silence. The noise of people speaking and walking around soothing your nerves. It had been your dream that had connected you with Jayce, the mutual understanding of what magic could do and the wonders it held.

“Those types of ideas could get you expelled from the Academy.” If he had spoken those words with a serious tone, it would have scared you. Instead, he still held curiosity in his eyes. “But what is science, if not risks?”

You let out a breath you did not know you were holding in. You frowned.

“Are you going to tell the Professor?” You watched him soften his eyes.

“I’m his assistant, not his whisperer.” He grinned and you could not help but let out a nervous laugh.

“I have to go…” You held his gaze. “It was nice to finally talk to you.”

“Likewise.” He smiled at you. You felt your cheeks suddenly heat up. “You have a great mind.”

“Thank you…” You were going to say his name when you realized you could not remember it. 

“Vik tor .” You felt a sudden touch in the back of your head. Your eyes narrowed for a second, you could’ve sworn you heard his voice change. “You can call me Viktor.”

“T-Thank you, Viktor.” You gave him your name, taking a step back as you slowly started retreating. “I will go now.”

You turned around and started heading to the hall. Your heart started beating fast once more. Perhaps, you were still having side effects. Or the Academy was making you begin to lose your mind.

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[islandofthedollz]

Jimmy infantilizing a f!reader after physically and emotionally abusing her to the point where he's the only one she can rely on

❤︎Jailer ❤︎

⁠❥TW: Abuse, gaslighting, infantilizing, physical abuse, body shaming, Reader is 18

⁠❥ thanks for the request ILY babe :3 Hopefully the tags work and everything! I just really like talking and writing about toxic Jimmy

As you wiped down the counter, (Y/N) couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and nervousness. You were just a few months away from graduating high school and was looking forward to attending your dream college in the fall. You had worked hard to get good grades and had been accepted into a great program.

As you took a break to grab a drink from the back room, you noticed a guy sitting at a table by the window. He was older, probably in his early 30s, with a charming smile and piercing eyes. He caught your eye and nodded in your direction, and you felt a sudden jolt of attraction.

As you returned to the counter, he got up and walked over to you. "Hey, can I get a coffee?" he asked, his voice low and smooth like whiskey.

You smiled and started making his drink. "So, what brings you in here today?" Youasked, trying to make small talk.

"Just needed a break from the usual routine," he replied. "I'm Jimmy. I've never seen you around here before."

"I'm (Y/N)," you said, handing him his coffee. "I work here part-time. I'm a student too." You smiled.

Jimmy's eyes lit up with interest. "No kidding? What are you studying?"

You hesitated, not wanting to give too much away. "Just the usual stuff," you said, trying to brush it off.

But Jimmy was persistent. He started asking her more questions, and You found yourself opening up to him in ways you never had with anyone before. He was charming and witty, and seemed to understand you in a way that no one else ever had.

As the days turned into weeks, Jimmy became a regular at the cafe. He would come in every day, and you would look forward to seeing him. You would talk for hours, and you found yourself falling deeper and deeper in love with him.

As you started dating, Jimmy began to subtly manipulate you. He would make you feel guilty for not spending enough time with him, or for not being affectionate enough. He would criticize your appearance, telling you that you were too fat or too thin, and that you needed to dress more attractively. He would belittle your accomplishments, telling you that you weren’t good enough, and that you needed to try harder.

But as the relationship progressed, you started to notice that Jimmy was becoming more and more controlling. He would get jealous when you talked to other guys, and he would question you about every little thing you did. At first, you brushed it off as mere possessiveness, but as time went on, you started to realize that something was wrong.

One day, Jimmy asked you to drop out of high school and move in with him. "You don't need a degree to be successful," he said. "I can take care of you. You can focus on your passions and interests, and I'll support you."

You were taken aback. You had always dreamed of attending college, and the thought of dropping out of high school was unthinkable. But Jimmy was persuasive, and he made you feel like he was the only person in the world who truly understood you.

As you looked into his eyes, you felt a sense of doubt. Maybe he was right. Maybe you didn't need a degree to be successful. And besides, you are in love with him, and you wanted to make him happy.

"Okay," you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'll drop out of school and move in with you."

Jimmy's face lit up with a smile, and he pulled you into his arms. "I'll take care of you," he whispered. "I'll always be here for you."

As you looked into his eyes, you felt a sense of trepidation. You had just made a decision that would change your life forever, and you weren’t sure if you were ready for the consequences.

But as you hugged him back. Jimmy had set a trap for you, and you had fallen right into it. You were 18 years old, and you had just given up your education and your future for a guy you barely knew. You were in love with him, but you were also scared. You didn't know what the future held, but you knew that you were in for a wild ride.

As the days turned into weeks, your life became a living nightmare. Jimmy was controlling and manipulative, and he made you feel like you were worthless without him. He would yell at you, belittle you, and make you feel like you were the only person in the world who was stupid enough to fall in love with him.

He made you block your friends' numbers and wouldn't let you talk to your parents. He isolated you from the world, and you felt like you were losing yourself. You were trapped in a toxic relationship, and didn't know how to escape.

But what really took you by surprise was Jimmy's reaction when you brought up job searches for him. He was in between jobs, and you thought it would be a good idea for him to start looking for a new one. But every time you mentioned it, Jimmy would become physically abusive.

"Don't you dare bring that up again," he would say, his eyes flashing with anger. "I'll find a job when I'm good and ready. You just focus on taking care of me."

And with that, he would grab your arm and twist it, or push you against the wall. You would cry and beg him to stop, but Jimmy just wouldn't listen. He was like a ticking time bomb, waiting to go off at any moment. And then, one day, Jimmy's abuse went too far. He beat you so badly that you ended up in the hospital.

Jimmy would often make you feel like a child, talking down to you and making decisions for you. He would say things like "you're not mature enough to make your own decisions" or "you're too naive to understand what's good for you." He would take away your autonomy, making you feel like you were incapable of taking care of yourself.

He would make you dress in a certain way, telling you what to wear and how to style your hair. He would control what you ate, what you watched on TV, and what music you listened to. He would even control how you spent your free time, telling you what hobbies to pursue and what activities to avoid.

You felt like you were living in a prison, with Jimmy as your jailer. As the months went by, you became a shadow of your former self. You became depressed, anxious, and felt like you were sufficating. You were trapped, with no way out. You had lost all sense of identity, all sense of self, a mere ghost of the person you used to be.

And then, Jimmy would tell you that he would never leave you. He would say that you were his, and that he would always take care of you. He would make you feel like you were dependent on him, like you couldn't survive without him. And you would believe him, because you had no one else to turn to.

You would try to make him happy, to please him in every way. You would cook his meals, clean his house, and cater to his every whim. You would be his personal servant, his slave. And he would reward you with affection, with attention. He would make you feel like you were loved, like you were worth something.

But it was all a lie. Jimmy didn't love you, and he didn't care about you. He only cared about himself, and what he could get from you.

And you would stay with him, because you had no one else. You had given up on your education, your friends, and your family. You had given up on yourself. You were completely dependent on Jimmy, and you knew it.

As the years went by, you became more and more entrenched in the relationship. You lost all sense of identity, all sense of self. You were just a shadow of your former self, a mere ghost of the person you used to be.

And Jimmy would continue to abuse you, to control you, to manipulate you. He would make you feel like a child, like a servant, like a slave. He would take away your autonomy, your freedom, your dignity. And you would stay with him, because you had no one else.

You were trapped, alone, and broken. You were a prisoner in your own life, with Jimmy as your jailer.

[winchesterwild78]

Broken pt 3

Master List

Characters: Jensen x Reader (wife)

Warnings: a little angst, funeral, fluff

A/N:  Idea given to me by @cheekygirl2309. This one is a little different than what I usually write. It has angst, lots of angst to start, and infertility issues. It's going to be a short series.

Minors DNI 18+

The next few days were a blur. Jensen took a leave of absence from work to be by my side as I navigated my loss. 

He did his best to keep me from slipping into a deep depression. 

I laid on our bed, exhausted but couldn’t sleep. My heart was broken. The last few weeks have really felt like a test to my soul and I wasn’t sure how much more I could take. 

“Sweetheart, I made you some breakfast.” I rolled over and looked at him. He was smiling but I could see the pain in his eyes. 

“I’m not very hungry.” I started to turn away and he let out a frustrated sigh. 

“Y/N, baby you have to eat. You need your strength. Come on, just a few bites.” 

“I said NO! I’m not hungry.” 

Jensen’s eyes went wide and he took a step back. He set the tray down and turned to leave. 

“Jens, I’m sorry.” I sobbed. He crawled into the bed with me and pulled me close. I cried. My fingers gripped his shirt. 

“I just don’t know how to move on. Jens my daddy is gone. How do I get through this?” 

Jensen held me tight, hand rubbing the back of my head, “It’s okay baby. I’m not an expert but this isn’t something you get through, it’s something you just learn to live with by taking it one day at a time. I’ll be there for you and by your side every step of the way. I promise.” 

I held on to him tighter than I had. I was terrified I was going to lose him too. I wanted to be left alone, but I wanted him by my side. I’ve lost people in my life before, but this loss, the loss of my father was profound. 

It felt like a hole has been left in my soul and nothing will ever fill it up. 

“Baby, please eat. I’m worried about you. We have to leave tomorrow for the funeral and I need you to have your strength.”

I nodded. I knew I needed to eat. My mom and sister were going to need me to help and I would be no good to them in a hospital. I knew my dad wouldn’t want me to grieve my life away either. He’d want me to grieve and move on. I slowly sat up. 

Jensen sat up and grabbed the tray and handed it to me. 

I started with the toast, then ate some bacon, then the eggs. Before I knew it I had eaten the whole plate. Jensen smiled. “Don’t look so smug.” I softly chuckled. 

He threw his hands up in defeat, “I didn’t say a word. Thank you for eating, baby.” I nodded, he leaned over and kissed my lips. 

After I ate I felt a little better. Jensen took the plate in the kitchen and I got some clean clothes to take a shower. 

I walked in the bathroom and turned on the water. Turning and looking in the mirror I saw how drained I looked. 

I jumped in the shower and let the hot water run down and around my body. Like a warm hug it enveloped me. 

There was a knock at the door. A slight smile tugging at my lips. “Hey baby, do you need anything?” I heard Jensen’s voice through the sound of the water.

“No, I’m okay baby, unless you want to wash my back.” Jensen smirked. He didn’t want to take advantage of me, but he missed me too. 

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, baby. As much as I want to, I think I should let you shower alone. I’ll be waiting for you.”

I let out a shaky breath. I was so torn. I wanted to be with him, but I understood why he said no. It still didn’t make it hurt any less. 

I finished in the shower and grabbed the towel. As I stepped into the bedroom I saw Jensen down the hall. A sly smile spread on my lips. 

“Jensen, can you come here please.” “Yeah, babe. Just one second.” I heard Jensen walking down the hallway and waited for him to come into the room. 

“Yes baby…” He stopped in his tracks when he saw me. I looked at him, and dropped my towel. 

“Damn, sweetheart. You’re killing me.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “You’re making it hard to say no.” 

I stepped closer, “Then don’t.” I kissed his lips softly. His fingers delicately run up my body. 

“Are you sure about this baby? I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this.” 

I kissed his lips, cutting him off. “Yes, Jensen. I want this, I want you. I need you.” 

Jensen laid me back on the bed and hovered over my body. He looked down at me, eyes full of questions, and so much love and a little pain. He cared about my father too. We both hit the jackpot with in-laws, so it was like he lost a father too. 

“Are you sure, baby?” He asked one last time. I nodded, “Yes”. 

He captured my lips in a need filled kiss, his hands on my body and his lips trailing down my neck. 

Jensen was gentle with me. Every minute we were in the bed his focus was on me, satisfying me. When he finished we both felt lighter, and closer than we had in a few days. 

Jensen cleaned us both up and pulled me into his arms. I placed my head on his chest and rested my hand there too. “Thank you, Jens. That was incredible.” 

He kissed my head, “Yes it was, baby. It had been too long.” 

We laid in each other’s arms for a while before getting up and starting to pack. 

The pain of losing my father was still there, still very raw, but Jensen was my calm. I knew he would do what he could to help me work through this. I knew he’d be by my side the whole time. 

The next morning Jensen and I boarded the plane to head to my mother’s. Abby was meeting us at the airport and we were staying at her house. 

We were going to stay with mom, but her house was already full with other family members, and Abby offered us her guestroom. 

The flight home was uneventful. A few people recognized him, but I guess seeing me they figured now was not the time to talk to him. There was however a little girl who recognized him and came running up to him. Her mother called her name and tried to get her to stop. 

“Hi!” She squealed. Jensen smiled down at her as her mother came running up. “Mary, I told you to leave him alone. He doesn’t want to be bothered.” 

Jensen offered her a soft smile, “It’s alright, so, your name is Mary?” She nodded, her big blue eyes sparkled and her blond hair falling in her face. “Mommy named me after your mommy.” Jensen chuckled, “Is that right?” 

“I am so sorry, she saw you on the plane and it took everything I could to keep her in her seat.” 

“It’s okay, really. So Mary, tell me something. Have you watched the show with your mommy?” She shook her head no, “Mommy said I had to be bigger, but I saw you on TV and when I was a baby you held me.” 

Jensen looked confused and then at her mother, “I went to a convention when she was a baby. We took a photo together and you held her in the picture.” 

Jensen thought back, “Wait, this isn’t Mary, born on my birthday Mary?” Her mother smiled and shook her head yes. “Oh my goodness. I remember.” Jensen smiled at me and told me all about the convention and how she was crying right before the photo op, but when he took her she stopped. She was also born on his birthday. 

The mother looked at me and saw how sad I looked. She offered a soft smile, “Mary honey, come on. Let’s let Jensen and Mrs. Ackles get to their destination.” “But mommy…” The little girl protested. 

I looked at Jensen and then at the little girl. He was always so incredible with children. I bent down to her, “Hey Mary, how about I take a picture of you and Jensen?”

Her big eyes went wide and she smiled, “Yes please.” Jensen smiled at me and he scooped her up in his arms. Her little arms around his neck and the biggest smile on her face.

I snapped the picture and motioned for her mom to get in one too. “Are you sure?” She asked. “Absolutely. His fans mean everything to him.” 

She nodded and stood on one side of Jensen and Mary still had a grip on his neck. I took the picture, the mom thanked us again and Mary kept her grip on him. 

She wouldn’t let go of him and she kept telling him he had to come to her birthday party. “Jensen, I am so sorry. All she’s said she wanted for her birthday is to see you again. I was going to take her to a convention, but I just read you had to cancel the next convention.”

My heart sank, my father’s death was the reason he had to cancel. I looked at Jensen and saw the regret in his face, “I’m sorry. He doesn’t like to cancel convention appearances. He had to because my father just passed.” 

The mother took my hand, “Oh honey, I’m so sorry. I understand. Please know we are thinking about you.” I nodded. “Thank you, I appreciate it. Why don’t you tell me where the party is going to be and I’ll see what we can figure out.” 

The mother looked stunned, “Are you sure?” “Of course. I can’t make any promises, but we will try.” She gave me the information, we said our goodbyes and headed out. 

Jensen held my hand and squeezed, “Are you okay baby?” “Yeah, just thinking about how wonderful you are and how we need to figure out how to get you to that little girl’s birthday party.” 

The next few days were a whirlwind. Today was the day of my father’s funeral and I stood at the full-length mirror and stared at myself in the black dress Jensen bought for me. 

Jensen walked up behind me and snaked his arms around my waist, placing a kiss on the side of my head. “You look beautiful, baby. Are you ready?” 

I took a shaky breath in, “As I’m going to be. Will you stand up there with me today? I don’t know if I can deliver this without you by my side.” 

Jensen turned me to face him, “Sweetheart, I’ll be by your side every step of the way, today and forever. If you can’t get through it, then I’ll take over. You’ve got this baby.” He placed a soft kiss on my lips. 

Jensen held my hand as we walked into the funeral home and I walked towards the casket, where my father was lying. I stopped walking when I got about halfway. 

Jensen gave my hand a light squeeze, “We don’t have to go up there baby.” I looked at him and tears filled my eyes, “I have to, Jensen. I have to say goodbye.” He nodded and placed his hand on the small of my back. 

My steps felt heavier as I walked. Each step felt like I was walking with concrete boots. 

My breathing was shaky, as I made it to the coffin. I looked down at my father. The man who held my hand as I learned to walk, the man who helped patch me up when I fell off my bike, the man who taught me how to give a mean right hook. He looked so peaceful, like he was in a deep sleep. 

I touched his hand. The warmth from his touch is now long gone. “I love you daddy. I’ll be okay. I have Jensen, and he’s been great through all this. He actually got my stubborn ass to eat something. You were right, daddy. He’s a really good man, and he loves me so much. When you get to where you’re going, give grandma a hug for me, and if it’s not too much to ask can you maybe put in a good word for us. We want to give you a grandbaby. I love you so much, daddy. Good bye.”

I placed a kiss on his forehead as the tears began to fall. Jensen held me and kissed my head. “It’s okay baby. I’m here.” 

The funeral started and I was next up to speak. With my paper in hand I walked to the podium with Jensen by my side. He leaned over and kissed my head, “You’ve got this baby.” 

I took a deep breath and started to read from the paper. Recalling story after story of my father and his love for his family and friends. As I read through the paper my chest began to tighten. I could feel the panic rising in my chest and I couldn’t get through the rest of it. Tears fell fast and heavy. Jensen held me, grabbed the paper and started reading the rest of it. 

By the time he finished I could barely stand. Jensen helped me to my seat. The rest of the funeral was a blur. People came by my mother, my sister and I offering their condolences. Jensen stood by my side the whole time. 

His presence grounded me. 

“Y/N, I’ll see you and Jensen at the luncheon.” My sister said. I looked at her and then at Jensen, he knew I couldn’t do it. My breathing became faster and erratic.

“Hey Abby, I think Y/N and I are gonna head out for a few days.” She nodded. I looked over at Jensen confused, he squeezed my hand.

I hugged mom goodbye and told Abby we’d lock up after grabbing our stuff.

Getting in the car Jensen held my hand. “Jens, thank you for helping me. I don’t know how I would have gotten through that without you.”

“You don’t have to thank me. It’s my job to protect you and help you. Now, you and I are getting away from everything for a little bit. You need a quiet place to clear your head.”

“Where are you taking me?” “We’re flying to the cabin in Colorado. It’s quiet, and you will have me at your beck and call for as long as you need.” 

“Jensen, what about work?” “My leave is open ended. I can end it whenever I want. Right now I’m not leaving you in this alone.” 

Jensen placed a soft kiss on my lips, “Come on baby, let’s get going.”

A few hours later we were pulling up to the cabin. It was lightly snowing. It was beautiful, perfect, and peaceful.

Walking into the cabin, Jensen carried our bags to the bedroom and then brought in some firewood. He started a fire as I made some coffee. 

Sitting on the couch side by side we had a blanket draped over our legs. Watching the fire and sipping our coffee, the room was quiet and peaceful. 

Jensen looked over at me, “Are you okay baby?” I smiled softly, “Yeah, I am now. This is just what I needed. Thank you, Jens.” 

“Sweetheart, you’re going to get through this. The pain won’t be this bad forever. It won’t go away, it will just get a little easier every day. I promise baby.” 

I stood and straddled his lap. His hands rested on my hips as I kissed his lips. “Jens, I love you so much. Let’s go to bed.” 

He lifted me up and carried me to the bed. Laying me down he stepped back and looked at me, “God you’re so beautiful. I am the luckiest man alive.” 

I smiled and blushed, “I’m the lucky one, Jensen.” 

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[cryptid-killjoy]

When Mazzie asked Ellie if she'd planned on staying too Babyface knew it wasn't her plan. They hadn't even spoke about it. Still, put on the spot he knew it was his plan all along. He knew from the moment he stepped foot on the boat. He'd known long before that if he ever got the chance to step foot here again and get a do over what he'd do different.

This was it. He'd stay. He wouldn't have run away from Mazzie when she needed him the most. Hindsight made him realize that was biggest mistake.

So, he clenched every muscle as he waited for Ellie's answer. She was laughing and so did Mazzie, but it felt like a goodbye to Babyface. He smiled through it even though it wasn't a no. It was clever wording even a not so clever boy could manage to pick up on. It scared him.

The timer scared him. Her indecision scared him because of that clock. Come some time tonight the island would start it's feed and turning real people into donkeys. He needed the island to accept them or their time, Ellie's time would run out. Not just that but despite being wholly committed to staying, in his mind, it wasn't permanent. When the Foulfellows used to work the island they still left it all the time. Babyface figured he could work on the details of how to leave it later. What mattered is he was staying.

Mazzie laughed. "We skate all over." It seemed to diffuse her though. She was realizing herself what both of them were saying. The one she had been so angry with was the one pleading to stay, completely willing, and the one she was okay with was the one hedging. It gave off the feeling that they had no plans of ambushing her and trying to take her off the island. It made Mazzie have to slow down and think. She gave her memories a once over. It was hard not to be sentimental when these were the only real life friends she'd ever had. Everything Ellie was talking about was reminding her of the old days. No matter how many hard feelings she had, she had just many good or more.

Even all Babyface's questioning made her believe on some level he must have cared more than she realized. So, she looked at him real serious because she knew something he didn't. She was hesitant to say it.

"You'd care for the island like me?"

"Yeah. That's the point. The whole point."

"You're sure. Donkeys and all? You remember how it works?"

"Yeah-yeah. I know. I know. I don't care about all that. I can handle it."

"So, you'd forgive the island for everything."

"Yeah-yeah Alls forgiven. It's all good. Whatever."

"No matter what? You're sure?"

"Yeah. I said yeah. We're crew. Remember?" Babyface sounded frustrated by this point she was dragging it out so much.

"UGH. I'll see what I can do. Come on. Let's go find Jax at the control room." Then she went in for a hug finally giving the warmer reception Babyface wished for.

"And don't ever make me have to forgive you again. Ever. I hated missing you guys."

All the island boys were giving them side eyes but slowly backing away from area where they'd once looked like they were ready to pounce if Mazzie felt threatened. Babyface figured this was a good sign. He finally figured out the pace of the boys was the chaos of island's emotions. At least sort of. He was hoping if they were backing down that meant they were okay with him staying and he wouldn't be turned into a donkey like the offer years ago.

When she finally let go she punched Babyface twice quick with two fast jabs in the arm.

"Hey! What was that for?"

"I don't know. I haven't seen you in so long. I just feel like I owed you some."

She'd start to talk more like a regular conversational Mazzie as they followed her to the control room.

"I have to admit, a part of me thought you two were goners already. Over time I started to assume everyone I knew was gone. We don't have any boats left. We stopped trying to leave. We had the paddle boats and the water zombies would pull them down. Flip them. People would drown trying to leave the mainland dancing unable to swim. The magic didn't dance on the island. We'd never make it back to the mainland if we tried. We decided it was just best to hunker down and live it out here. We could survive. There's been a few to make it but the island either rejected them, got the donkey treatment in the end, or even the few I managed to save succumbed to the zombies eventually. All but one."

He looked over at Ellie with a bit of surprise. He never saw Mazzie as some sort of hero trying to save people on the island even if it ended up a failure.

"Sucks you found some you liked and lost them then I guess."

Mazzie glanced up, "Yeah, they were Beagles."

His feet stopped. "What?"

It wasn't like Babyface didn't already know. He'd been trying to mourn, but no bodies meant he could keep a glimmer of pretend hope. His heart started to pound.

"That's the boat that made it over. They'd been spying on us. You and us. All of us. Trying to figure out what you were doing all the time. It's how they knew. I got the island to let me keep them. Your family was the only people they let me keep. Anyone else that ever happened on the island got the donkey treatment. Sadly, I'm sorry, like I said, the zombies just over ran the place. We're finally getting it weeded down and protected. We have barriers up. But, they're still here."

Babyface was stunned. Fuck those details. "Who Mazzie? Who? Who was here?"

"Oh, Big Time, the zombies came out of nowhere that day. There was nothing we could do. We weren't fast enough. Bouncer, spinning tea cup accident. Not quite sure what happened there. It was going too fast. He got real pukey and dizzy after. Then zombies. He's so big and strong and he couldn't have protected himself if he tried. Not right then."

Babyface looked like he might puke himself. Putting images to his family's vague MIAness to actual faces of death was a reality check. He put a hand on his stomach as he asked, "Wait. Stop. Didn't you say earlier that you had a survivor? You mean of my family?"

"Mhm."

"Well who already? Who?"

Like a movie cue she waved to the control house. "See for yourself."

Babyface Beagle looked over at Ellie and then looked up following Mazzie's arm pointing in the distance.

There was Jax's curly hair sitting on the porch with all the carnival lights behind them talking to a god damn ginger.

Of all Beagles to survive. Mother fucking Bebop was sitting on the stoop with Jax.

Fuck the coachman right now, Ellie just let out the biggest sigh of relief that Jax was okay, her head leaning back as she let it out, running her fingers through her hair. “Thank fuck for that,” She said, thinking of the curly-haired guy whose homework she had helped out with while he was a donkey, of the guy that always seemed to bring a smile to her face, of the one that she disguised as a girl so that he could sleep over at their house. “You have no idea how much we thought of you two. Seriously. Shit went down and -” Another deep breath, shaking their head. Even with zombies here, and the bad boys, she felt alright for the first time since setting foot on the island.

Honest John and Gideon - she didn’t really care about those two right now. It always seemed clear that it was Maz in charge, not those two. So to Babyface’s disappoint, she wouldn’t try to get any clarity on that.

Yeah, of course there was disappointment in Babyface. Ellie had been expecting that. That they weren’t going to get the warmest welcome in the world, considering that Babyface had literally gone and popped the Magic Man. And she knew that Babyface wasn’t going to go apologizing for it either.

Her face definitely reflected the shock at what he was doing instead. That was not expected. That was not what they had talked about. True, they didn’t actually talk about what to do with their future, but it always had seemed so open. Like they could do anything. They had no attachments anymore, nothing keeping them down. Ellie had the Laveaus and Aunt Elsa but distance didn’t seem to come between them, she could go anywhere. Babyface had his mom in prison, and she supposed now Black Arts Beagle but it was hard to trust the smooth-talker. He was too smooth, like a freshly waxed floor, and she didn’t want to go slipping and sliding.

So much for not making any decisions for Ellie. He might not have spoken for her right then and there, but his decision affected her too, and he had to have known that. He goddamn better have known that.

This was hard. This was conflicting. It felt like two separate armies - the hot and the cold inside of her - were clashing inside of one another and there was no winning.

This was her crew. This was her life. She had the chance to get Maz back in it, and Jax. The two people that she never felt right not having anymore. She woulda died for them, no question. She woulda fought for them too. And here she was, with the opportunity to stay here, in this place that felt like a personal Hell to her, with them.

But then there was the other side. The Hellish side. She never liked the island. She never liked the way that it made her feel. The bad kids, the constant screaming and noise and mayhem, the fact that she couldn’t even use her powers which was something that Babyface would never understand, because he never had them. Being repressed like that - it felt like having a part of her missing.

But there were heavy eyes on her, wanting to make a decision. And a yes or a no was something that she couldn’t give now, not without thinking about it first, not without talking to her trusted people about it.

The weight of the eyes was intimidating. Babyface and Mazzie both. She struggled to come up with filler, something that wasn’t a yes, but also wasn’t a no.

“Put in a skatepark and we’ll talk about it.”

[littlelovebunny]

dream dream dream senario!! and a longer writing, bunny hopes you enjoy it!!

being a daughter of a father who never ever wanted children. he and my mother didn’t have a good relationship, but she got pregnant and he wasn’t a complete lowlife so he stuck around. he didn’t love her, barely even liked her but he couldn’t afford to pay child support so he needed to stick around. and when i was a baby and a toddler he just saw me as a kid, i didn’t really matter to him, but as i got a little older, he realise how much he really loved me…

and it’s not just the typical daddy daughter type of love. he started appreciating my little body, and my soft voice, and the pretty furrow in my brow when my homework was too difficult and i needed to ask him for help. he started liking my laughter and the teary look in my eye i’d get whenever i hurt myself at school on the playground, and the way i needed his help to clean my little love tunnel when mom wasn’t there to teach me. he needed to teach me a lot of things really. my mom kind of sucked too.

she was never there as i got older, but you know who was there? daddy dearest. i slowly became closer with him, and as i grew into a child and a preteen, dad was my best friend. he taught me everything! and by ‘teaching me everything,’ i don’t just mean my multiplication or writing paragraphs…

daddy knew that i knew nothing about my little bunny body, so he took it upon himself to teach me everything! his old, big, strong hands would move to my hips, and he’d kiss my neck as he’d whisper,

“hey baby! how’s my favourite girl?” he’d smile as he said it. disarming, my father was. i’d nod and giggle as i reply,

“i’m good daddy! i had a good day at school!” the melodic lilt of my voice was always dad’s weakness. it reminded him of my mother when she was still young and her body and soul hadn’t been hardened by old age. he smiled at me and gently hoisted me up onto his lap, before gently stroking my cheek.

“mommy’s not going to be home tonight. she’s stuck at work, bunny. but, i thought that since she was gone, dad could teach you something new? i know what a good little learned you are! so what d’you say?” he asked softly, paternally. i was sad at first, about my mother not being home, but dad mentioned learning! i love learning! we learnt about division in maths today, maybe he was teaching me more maths stuff! or maybe it was science based, like about the pretty planets in the sky. whatever it was, i was sold immediately! i was just praying it wouldn’t turn into the stuff it had in the past…

“of course dad! i wanna learn! wan’ you to teach me!” i giggled as i looked up at him with those chocolatey brown eyes, full of innocence and pure adoration for the man in front of me, that made my fathers heart clench every time. cause my father knew it was wrong, what he wanted to do with me, to do to me, to teach me. he knew it was sick and perverted, he knew that once he did this, there was no going back. that this would be a one way ticket straight to hell. my daddy would always feel guilty about it, of course he would! i was his little girl. his beautiful little girl. and he was talking advantage of me. i didn’t deserve the grooming i experienced, but somewhere along the way, the lines between grooming and love blurred. somewhere along the way, my dad fell in love with me. not just lust, no. love. pure. unadulterated love. but it was wrong, so so wrong. it was wrong when he gently brought his big hands and caressed them down my little shoulders to my nipples, pert from the crisp air, and gently gave them a little caress. it was wrong when he whispered in my ear abour what they were.

“these are your little nipples baby, they feel good when dada touches them, huh?” he’d say softly, gently brushing the roughened pads of his fingers over the little buds. it was wrong when he cupped my budding breasts, slightly painful from the fact that they’d started growing, transforming my flat breasts into softer little mounds, perky and bouncy.

“these are your breasts, angel. goodness, they’re so much bigger now, baby, look how much you’ve grown.” he’d say, and i’d shy away into his neck at the praise. he’d gulp the guilt down, swallowing it into the pit of his stomach, before letting his big hands trail down my tummy to the hem of my shorts and panties. he could feel the little trim on the top. fuck. they were my panties with the bunnies and bows on them. daddy’s favourite. he swallowed harder and didn’t wait for my permission to slide his big thick fingers into the fabric of my panties. he brushed along the smoothness of my mound, the hairs hasn’t come in yet. and he gently pushed his hand further, until he could stroke his finger in between my wet little lips, soaking already from the attention i was getting. “you’re wet already angel? this wetness, we call that my babies special nectar, okay? that just means, you…uh…you like what daddy’s doin’ to you, okay?” he whispers as his thumb grazes my little love button and my hips buck into his hand. fuck she’s responsive. “oh baby, so so sensitive there. that’s your little love button, that makes little girls like you feel so so good when their dad’s touch it.” he says as he trails his finger down to my little pink hole. he lets out a groan when he feels it. tight, hot, and virginal. he swirled his finger around it as i whimpered and wriggled in his hold. “you’re so tight here, let daddy open you up a little hm?” he said as he sits me up a little, to help me gently lower myself onto his finger, letting the digit slide into my love tunnel. i moaned out in pain at the stretch, as i clung to my daddy and fisted into his shirt.

“dada…w-why do i f-feel all tingly…it’s all sticky and w-wet…and the stretch h-hurts dada…stop.” i whimpered into his neck, as he manoeuvred my hips to grind his finger in and out of my tiny pink hole. he sighed, guilt setting in again. he was hurting his precious little one. she was in pain. he had to stop.

but he couldn’t.

he couldn’t stop now. are you fucking insane? he’d come this far and she was so perfect, he needed to finish what he started. so, he laid his little angel onto the couch, on her back, and tugged off her little shorts and bunny panties, tossing them away.

“i know it hurts kiddo. i know and dads so so sorry, but daddy has something that will make it all better okay? it’ll hurt at first but daddy promises you’ll feel so so good after. you trust me don’t you?” he says softly, tugging his own pants down, and i look and see it. his stick.

long, girthy, with a fat head in the shape of those pretty fungi you see in the woods. it was throbbing, and every so often when i looked at daddy, i could see it twitch. daddy caressed my cheek and gently kiss me to shut my fears up. daddy gave me a grown up kiss, on the lips. my little tongue lapping against his, like he taught me. he pulled away and sighed.

“just let daddy do this, okay? i promise it’ll be over soon sweetheart, daddy won’t be able to last long inside his beautiful little girl.” he says as he pushes the fat head to my dripping little hole, and i whine in pain as he pushes in and keels over. he tries to keep pushing, but i’m so so tight it’s almost impossible. “come on baby, let daddy inside your petal, let daddy slide on home baby.” he whispers gently kissing my cheek, coaxing me to relax. i squeeze my eyes shut as i feel him sink deeper and deeper, filling me to the hilt. his hips are snug against mine and we’re both panting and staring up at each other. his eyes are wide, with a tinge of guilt, and mine are teary and blown out, scared and fearful. my little pink lips on my face are gently parted, while my little pink lips on my little bunny bits are stretched obscenely around my daddy’s stick. he gently starts moving and making these noises. daddy’s eyes are squeezed shut. he’s guilty. of course he is!

he’d given me multiple pregnancy scares since i got my period the year prior, and he felt awful. awful about it all. the day he took my virginity and saw the ring of blood on his cock when we were done, and the tear tracks on my cheeks, he couldn’t sleep for a week. he’d been having me ever since, but he’d been teaching me new stuff every time, pretending that the seventh time, and the eighth time, and the ninth time were only the first time, to try and reconcile some of his guilt stricken conscience. it didn’t change that he’d made love to his daughter more than once, but what else was a man to do?

he continued moving in and out of me, staring down at where our bodies were connected, and with each thrust he could see my puffy little love button pulsing at the feeling.

“dada…my nectars coming…i feel it again dada…” i whimper, holding him tight, and he groans too. it’s the closest he’s ever been, and he’s going to come inside his little girl. he’s the worst father on this planet, and she’s the most perfect daughter he could ever have, he thinks, as he groans and nods back to her, as they come simultaneously, him kissing her cervix and filling her up with her own siblings.

he stays there, buried to the hilt for a moment, to catch his breath, before leaning back to look at his little nymph. her beautiful swollen lips, her pretty glassy eyes, the way her bodies shaking like a baby fawn, like bambi, beneath him. she’s a vision. the perfect little vixen, a siren called to tempt him, made from the fruit of his own loins. and in that moment, he knows in his heart that he can deny it all he wants, but this won’t be the last time they make love. he sighs, and holds her close to him.

“you did so perfect baby, just like you always are for your dad. dada’s so so sorry, my little bunny, he won’t do it again.” he lies, and he’s filled with more guilt as he meets my gaze. the expression on my face filled with trust, trusting my daddy when he says this will be the last time. even though he says it every time, i can’t lose hope that someday he will actually mean it, cause what other choice do i have?

“‘s okay dada…” i mumble, and he kisses my cheek. he needs to make this go away for a while, remove it from my pretty little head. he pulls out of me, and wipes the come off my thighs, before pulling my panties and shorts back on, and smiling as if everything was normal as he speaks, cupping my cheek.

“daddy won’t do it again baby, i pinky promise…how about i make it up to you? what d’you say we go get ice cream, bunny? daddy’ll even get you the one with sprinkles.” he says, trying absolve his guilt, and reconcile the inevitable act of him making love to his little princess. i love ice cream, and daddy knows it always cheers me up, so i nod.

at least i know for certain that he’s not lying about us getting ice cream…

i hope you enjoyed this!! bunny loved writing it!! xoxo🤍🤍

[selunesdreams]

Chapter 15: Baggage

“Sorry about your dinner plans.” Rook murmured as Lucanis fell in step beside her. “I can make you dinner any time,” he said with a grin. “Never apologize for ending a meal early to kill Venatori.” “After what they did to you and Spite, to Neve and the Shadow Dragons, to Minrathous…” Rook reached down and squeezed his hand. “I intend to cleanse Tevinter of every single one.” WANT TO WATCH ROOK KILL . AND THEN- Lucanis’ skin heated as she let go of his hand, forging ahead to give directives. He kept a careful distance as Spite ranted and raved in his mind about all the things he could do to Rook, some things he wasn’t even certain he knew how to do…

Pairing: Lucanis x Fem Rook/OFC x Spite???

Summary: Fiamma recalls her final night at Villa Dellamorte, Lucanis uses food to show appreciation while Spite would prefer other methods, Rook does her best to stomach an encounter with the Venatori while rescuing kidnapped Dalish, and Solas becomes suspiciously cooperative.

Word count: 3.8k

Things of note/warnings: 18+ fic, MDNI! Blood of Arlathan quest. warnings: ritual/innocent animal sacrifice, mild sexually/physically aggressive Illario, horny Spite, yearning (but oblivious) Lucanis, Solas. Please read on AO3 if you need to track warnings, they will be inevitably detailed better there (or just want to be real sweet and give me hits/kudos/comments).

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

As Fiamma sorted through Caterina’s mail with gloved hands, her fingertips hesitated over an envelope bearing no Crow letterhead or seal. Unfamiliar penmanship scrawled her name in dark ink, and while Viago would immediately suspect an attempted poisoning, she found herself slipping off her gloves, brow furrowing as she deposited the rest of the mail on the kitchen counter.

No one outside of the Crows should have any knowledge of her residence at the villa, yet someone had known to send correspondence here. They’d also known that if her mail went to Viago’s, he’d snoop. All the mail sent to the villa passed through Fiamma first. The sender intended for her to get her hands on it without intervention.

Lucanis had been off for some time. Perhaps he wanted a message to get to his grandmother discreetly? Or perhaps it was a trap laid by her cousin, testing how she was exercising caution these days. With a frown, she slipped a knife from her waistband and sliced underneath the wax seal, anyway. 

Hey kid, You might not remember us little people after single-handedly taking down 20 Antaam, but you left an impression on me I can’t seem to shake. I’m working on looking for an old friend who’s gotten themselves into some pretty deep shit. I could use someone with your skill set and grit to help me find him and, maybe, beat some sense into him. If you’re up for the job, and things aren’t too cushy where you’re at, you can find me every evening for the next ten-day at the Lamplighter in Minrathous. Look for the guy with a loud mouth and a chessboard. -Varric 

Varric. One of the prisoners she freed the night she ruined an entire Crow operation - the very misstep that landed her here at Villa Dellamorte. His proposition wasn’t a new one - he’d made the same offer the night she rescued him, but Viago hauled her off before she could even consider it. Undoubtedly, Varric had powerful allies and discreet surveillance on her. She was unnerved that she hadn’t noticed. Though she found herself somewhat impressed. Intrigued, even.

Fiamma folded the letter and tucked it into her pocket, setting a kettle on the stove as she continued tending to her evening duties. While the water for Caterina’s evening tea boiled, she contemplated Varric’s offer. Viago had sidelined her for three full moons now, with no promise of letting her return home, or to her own contracts anytime soon. In that period, Illario had become more insufferable, more forward, and more tormenting. After Lucanis departed for a prolonged contract last week, Illario had formed a habit of returning home drunk every night, melancholy and distraught, howling belligerently outside her door to be let in. If the villa weren’t so large, and Fiamma’s chambers weren’t in the opposite wing, Caterina would have caned him for making so much noise. It seemed his luck was in his grandmother’s declining hearing. 

She shook her head, preparing a cup of tea and arranging it on a bed tray alongside the rest of Caterina’s mail. Carrying it up the stairs, she wound through long hallways and several bare rooms. Cloth draped so much of the villa’s furniture to protect it from dust that she often felt surrounded by ghosts. In many ways, she was. Caterina had watched her entire family die, save her two remaining grandchildren. What joy was left inside these walls? Why decorate a space better left vacant, much like the unmarked graves near the rose garden? 

The First Talon was in a rocking chair before the fire when Fiamma knocked on her bedroom door. Caterina never could quite sit still. Even at rest, she was restless. Normal people rocked their grandbabies to sleep, but she raised hers to be killers. Good ones at that. The back and forth of her chair was meant to soothe her own worry. 

“Lots of mail today.” Fiamma said, setting the tray on a desk near the balcony. The old woman glanced at her, the glimmer of hope in her eyes betraying her mask of indifference. 

“Anything from Lucanis?”

“Are you expecting word from him? I could send-”

“I’ll handle it.” Caterina waved, cutting her off. “Leave me.”

Typically, the two would exchange a few teasing comments or Caterina would gloat about Lucanis’ most recent accomplishment (or how Illario had most recently vexed her), but Fiamma knew better than to pry. Caterina was prone to sour moods, and where she came from, dismissal was just as good as praise most of the time. After all, to be noticed often meant death in her line of work.

With a polite dip of her chin, she backed out of the room and closed the door. Absentmindedly, her hand returned to her pocket, brushing against the edge of the folded parchment there. The click of her boots echoed against the marble as she walked down the dimly lit corridor to her room. It would be unconscionable to leave Caterina now. Once Lucanis’ contract in Minrathous was finished, she’d take her leave in the night. But surely he’d return soon. What harm was there in leaving her with Illario for a few days? A lead assassin was more than capable of fending for herself…

She could barely count the steps left to her door when she heard something behind her, turning and preparing for an ambush. A small gasp escaped her as her back hit the wall, Illario’s face coming only a breath from her own. So drunk she could smell the alcohol on his skin, she turned her head to the side and wrinkled her nose. 

“Fiammetta…don’t tell me you’re avoiding me?” Illario slurred, clumsily dragging a hand down her cheek. 

“Go to bed.” She braced her palms on his chest to create distance between them. 

“Not without you.” He took her by the wrists and pressed his mouth sloppily against the corner of her own.  

“You pig!” She shoved him off, spitting and wiping her lips with her sleeve. 

“How long will we do this dance, Fi?” Illario asked in a sultry voice. 

“As long as it takes for you to get it through your head that the kiss before was a thank you, not an oath of my devotion.”

Illario narrowed his eyes. “There’s someone else, isn’t there?”

“Is it so hard to fathom that I just don’t want you?” 

“No, no, come on. Who is it? You and Teia have some secrets that I should know about?” He leaned in closer. “What about my cousin? He’s sweet on you, I can tell.”

“Listen to yourself.” Fiamma sneered. “You just can’t believe I would say no to you unless I was saying yes to someone else.”

Illario stumbled into her, pulling her closer. “Lucanis is inexperienced.” He whispered against the shell of her ear, “You want me, someone who can show you the ropes-” 

Fiamma instinctively reeled back and decked him square in the jaw, her knuckles grazing his bottom teeth. With a hiss of pain, she recoiled, shaking the impact from her fist as he held his chin, opening his mouth wide to check the joint. 

“Maybe I deserved that one.” He mumbled, wiping at his bloodied lip. 

Before the exchange could carry on another moment, Fiamma wrenched the doors of her bedroom open and slammed them shut behind her, turning the lock and sliding her sword through the handles for extra security. 

“I didn’t stand a chance, did I?” Illario asked through the door as his body audibly slumped against it. 

Ignoring him, she pulled a bag from under the bed. When she first arrived, Fiamma never fully unpacked. Her own way of keeping one foot out the door, as De Rivas always did. She swept the room, gathering her remaining belongings and throwing them inside. For good measure, she snatched a couple of offerings from the guest wardrobe. Caterina wouldn’t miss them. Though she might miss her . That wasn’t Fiamma’s problem anymore, though.  

“I’ve done terrible things, Fiammetta…” Illario’s muffled voice cried. “But I had to…”

With a heavy sigh, Fiamma hoisted her pack onto her shoulder, retrieved her sword from the door, and opened her bedroom window. No longer willing to entertain another night of self-pitying theatrics, she launched herself over the ledge, scaling a trellis to the gardens and sneaking through the hidden passage across the courtyard. 

By morning, she’d secured a spot on a ship to Minrathous, to search for a man with a loud mouth and a chessboard. With a brief pang of guilt, she wondered who would bring Caterina her morning coffee. 

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

Rook found Viago poised over the kitchen counter, precariously refilling his toxin vials. Framed by the glass balcony doors, the setting sun glowed over the city skyline behind him, turning the den a faint orange. Her cousin glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, decanting a clear liquid into an empty container. 

“Your friends tired of hovering by your bedside and returned home.”

Rook took a seat, watching him work. “Teia too?”

“She had work to do at the casino. She left once I assured her you’d live.”

Neither of them spoke for several minutes as Viago corked a glass cylinder and nestled it inside his case with care. He snapped it shut and braced his palms on the counter, staring at the stone surface.

“Go back to your Lighthouse. I’ll keep an eye on Illario and update you when I know more. Once you go through that eluvian of yours, I’m facing it towards the wall.” 

“What if I need you?”

“Lucanis seems more than eager to make you his problem. Let him carry the burden for a little while.”

Rook buried her reaction to his disappointment deep within herself. “What makes you say that?”

“Because he was the last to leave and keeps reappearing through that damned mirror every hour to check in.” Viago stood up straight and took off towards his room without sparing her a second look. 

“Whatever is going on between the two of you, keep it out of my house.”

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

AMBER. AND HONEY! ROOK. CLOSE .  

Lucanis glanced up just before she opened the kitchen doors. Relief and another potent emotion, something akin to the rush just before an assassination, coursed through his veins. 

“Rook! You’re back.” He breathed, lifting the pasta cooking on the stovetop off the flame and setting it aside to cool. “How are you feeling?”

“Well rested.” She crossed the room as he wiped his hands on his apron, discarding it on a nearby chair. As she joined him near the stove, his eyes met hers, and he forced a smile, feeling a bit dazed. He turned around quickly, twirling a forkful of pasta in the pan and offering her a bite. 

“Come here, try something for me.” 

One brow arched, she held his gaze, lips dragging down the metal prongs as she allowed him to feed her a mouthful. Chewing thoughtfully, she threw her head back with a moan. Lucanis watched her features attentively, assessing what the dish might need based on her reaction.  

OTHER WAYS TO MAKE HER MOAN, LUCANIS. BETTER WAYS.  

He shoveled a forkful of hot pasta into his own mouth, as if he could silence Spite by burning his own tongue. 

“I’m trying something new.” The noodles scalded his throat as he swallowed them whole. “The trick is in the pasta water…” He returned his attention to dinner, dividing it amongst an assortment of plates on the counter. 

“You’re in a surprisingly cheerful mood today.” Rook snuck a fork from the counter and began eating directly out of the pan. 

“I’m cautiously optimistic about Caterina, and I wanted to do something nice for you, show my appreciation for all your help…” He snatched the fork from her grasp. “Save your appetite. There’s a tort in the oven, too.” 

Rook smiled, and the warmth of her brown irises brought out by the light of the fireplace. “Did you do all this for me, Lucanis?”

“There’s plenty to share.” Tension grew in his chest, a sensation of static rising in his throat. “But…I did make it with you in mind.”

“You didn’t have to do that.” 

“Yes, I did,” He said matter-of-factly, shoving his hands in his pockets and averting his eyes. “I still haven’t found a way to apologize for everything, and…”

“I’m the one who owes you an apology, Lucanis.” She said, reaching for his wrists. “I should have listened to you. Should have told you my plans, never should have…”

ROOK. TOUCHING. US. DO IT BACK!  

Lucanis let her tug him closer, blinking in surprise as she flung her arms around his neck. One hand fell to her waist, while the other found her hip.

“You and me? We’re good, Rook.” He said, tearing his attention away from her and returning to the stove, wordlessly plating their meal as Rook set the table. She brushed past him; filling a cup of coffee for each of them before settling into her seat. It was wonderfully domestic, and he welcomed the distraction from the trouble that waited for them in Treviso. It would be hard to trust anyone again, but after his moment with Rook yesterday, he’d unveiled a trust in her he’d never allowed himself to have in anyone.  

The others soon arrived, Bellara and Neve bringing news of kidnapped Dalish, taken by Venatori, for a ritual sacrifice. A pang of disappointment hit Lucanis as he realized their brief respite from the terror of the gods would soon be over…and the tort he’d labored over all afternoon would likely go untouched. 

“The gods will want more power,” Bellara said, picking at her food. “They won’t waste any time getting it.”

A phantom scratch came from behind Lucanis’ eyeballs at the mention of blood magic. 

“Then we strike while they’re weak.” He lowered his fork, looking up from his half-finished plate and holding Rook’s gaze. She set her mouth in a line with a firm nod. 

“He’s right.” She said, pushing up from her seat. The others followed suit, departing in the direction of the eluvian.

“Sorry about your dinner plans.” Rook murmured as Lucanis fell in step beside her.

“I can make you dinner any time,” he said with a grin. “Never apologize for ending a meal early to kill Venatori.”

“After what they did to you and Spite, to Neve and the Shadow Dragons, to Minrathous…” Rook reached down and squeezed his hand. “I intend to cleanse Tevinter of every single one.”

WANT TO WATCH ROOK KILL . AND THEN-

Lucanis’ skin heated as she let go of his hand, forging ahead to give directives. He kept a careful distance as Spite ranted and raved in his mind about all the things he could do to Rook, some things he wasn’t even certain he knew how to do…

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

Safer to venture into such a large gathering of Venatori in small groups, Neve, Lucanis, and Rook opted to move in the open, disguised, while the others went through the trees with the Veil Jumpers. 

“This robe stinks of Venatori. It makes my eyeballs itch.” 

Lucanis stood with his arms crossed as he waited for Neve to reach the opposite end of the zip line. White fog seeped up from the deep canyon before them, concealing several roaring waterfalls in the distance. Rook bit her lip as she examined the large gap between them and the opposite bank. 

“If you’re not too uncomfortable…I could use a favor.” 

Lucanis raised an eyebrow as she held up her palms. The injuries she sustained from her escape from the villa were still red and inflamed as she tugged a pair of thick gloves over them with a grimace. 

Lucanis smirked and offered her his back. “Need a lift?”

“You sure you can carry both of us?” She asked with some uncertainty, “I can catch up with the others if…”

Lucanis scoffed. “I can handle you.” 

“Rescued twice in less than a fortnight. I’m a lucky girl.” Rook’s arms encircled his middle, and she rested her chin on his shoulder, hiking her legs up around his waist. “Are you sure about this?”

He stiffened, tightening his grip on the handles. “I’ll keep my reservations to myself until we reach the other side.”

Lucanis kicked off the ground, and they soared over the canyon, Rook’s stomach plummeting as she looked at the drop below. With her arms locked tightly around Lucanis’ chest, she feared he’d suffocate and pass out, sending them both to their deaths amongst the jagged rocks below. Eyes squeezed shut, she became attuned to the scent of his shaving oil lingering on his neck as she buried her face there. The telltale jolt of them hitting the end of the zipline ripped every thought from her mind and she released a held breath, letting her shaking legs detach themselves from around Lucanis. As her boots hit solid ground, she swallowed hard to avoid retching.

“Took you long enough,” Neve said, inclining her head towards the Venatori camp. “Come on.” 

They weaved through a sea of Red Cloaks and excited chatter. Rook caught the sound of her own name a few times, resisting the urge to turn her head towards it. 

“You’re popular.” Neve murmured. 

“Not comforting.” Rook replied. From her peripheral, she watched Lucanis scan the crowd, hands flexing at his sides. 

“They’re going to bleed a Dalish deer!” A nearby Venatori squealed. 

Rook’s throat tightened as she recalled the disposition of the gentle creature she’d encountered with Assan and Davrin. “They’re going after Halla?”

She turned to a platform where the creature was drug forward on a rope, weak and struggling to resist. Could it be the same one from before? 

Lucanis reached out and caught her around the waist as she jolted forward, bringing his lips to her ear. 

“We can’t do anything that will draw attention, Rook.” He warned in a low voice. Tears stung her eyes as she realized he was right. Lucanis discreetly reached for her hand, lacing his fingers through hers. 

“You don’t have to watch this,” Neve said as the Halla bleated in terror, but Rook couldn’t tear her gaze away, no matter how badly she wanted to. She squeezed Lucanis’ hand, fingernails digging into his skin unintentionally. When she noticed and tried to relax her grip, his only tightened. Face set in a facade of indifference, fury simmered beneath his features. 

“They will pay, one way or another.” 

The Halla exploded into a mess of blood and carrion and she stifled a gasp, turning into Lucanis’ shoulder. She’d seen all she needed to, and not a second more. 

“Are you alright?” Lucanis asked softly. 

“This whole place makes my skin crawl.” She said through gritted teeth, releasing his hand with some difficulty and storming through the Venatori camp.

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

“The Dalish prisoners…they escaped safely?”

Covered in blood and dirt after the events at the Venatori camp, Rook stood across Solas in their usual meeting spot, each on one side of an enormous expanse in the Fade. His prison.

“For now.”

They’d barely been successful. Elgar’nan had shown up with an unexpected archdemon, and soon detected their presence, bringing to light his alliances with both the Venatori and the Antaam. If not for Solas’ intervention, they, nor the Dalish, would have made it out alive.

“Whatever my frustration with them, it feels good to have helped my people again. Thank you for allowing me to. The chance to infuriate Elgar’nan was a reminder of simpler times.” Solas spoke more warmly than she was used to. It felt like a change she shouldn’t trust. 

“We share a set of similar goals, but our endgame is not the same.” Rook said, folding her arms over her chest, “And I still haven’t forgiven you for hurting Varric.”

“Varric…” Solas echoed, regret weighing on his features. “How is he?”

“Out of commission, for now. His recovery is slow, thanks to you, but his condition seems to be….improving.” Rook said, worry gnawing at her gut. 

“And you? I can’t help but notice you bear some injuries of your own.” Solas nodded at the contusion on her temple and where her wounds had reopened on her palms. She’d had no choice but to draw her weapons and fight, undoubtedly prolonging her healing time. 

“I’ll be fine.” She muttered, pulling her gloves from out of her pockets and slipping them on, careful to keep a straight face. Solas wouldn’t get the satisfaction of seeing her suffer today. 

“You lead your allies well, Rook. When we first met, I saw you only as a foolish child who disrupted my plans. You were…an irritant.” He said, crossing his arms behind his back. “I expected you to be nothing more than a tool, but you’ve proven me wrong at every turn. Perhaps Varric was not misguided, placing his faith in you.”

“You’d do well not to underestimate me.” Rook said, “Most come to regret it…given they survive long enough.” 

“Spoken like someone who kills for a living.”

“Let’s not pretend my death toll is anywhere close to yours.” Rook growled. 

Solas hummed in acknowledgement, uncrossing his arms and beginning to pace. 

“Your team trusts you, and you listen to them. It is impressive…and enviable. You work together with a camaraderie that took me centuries to build in my rebellion.”

“I care about them. I don’t use them as…how did you put it… tools?”

“I caution you not to allow feelings to distract you from your goal. What little time you have left, you should make certain you, and the team that trusts you, are ready for whatever comes. This might be your last chance. Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain are preparing their ritual to pierce the Veil during the next eclipse, as Elgar’nan’s power is tied to light and darkness.”

“My allies will be ready.” Rook said, walking through dust and rubble towards the other end of the Fade’s nothingness. Anything to be further from Solas. 

“Are you?” He called after her. “I know that you will do everything in your power not to fail them , but what are you doing to ensure you will not fail yourself ? I have gleaned insight into some of your baggage, the complicated feelings you carry for fellow Crows, including the one on your own team. Have you grappled with your own shame? The regrets that haunt you in your sleep?”

“The Lighthouse is a shrine to your regret, Solas.” Rook said over her shoulder as the world around them faded to white. “Keep your words of wisdom and try heeding them yourself.”

[morningsharksworld]

Ok consider this... Hazard gets sick and refuses to admit he needs to be cared for until he all but passes out from fever and then gets all flustered and sappy when his S/O starts doting on him and forcing him to lay down and rest.

Fever

Hazard x Reader

A/N: Writing this as I have a cold is great therapy ngl anon, nice ol’ blanket and some soup.

Summary: some of the phreaks have been noticing that hazard hasn’t been taking care of himself lately…even when he’s sick

Hazard was as stubborn as a mule—and twice as proud. You’d noticed something was off for days now. His usual sharp movements had grown sluggish, his voice rougher, and his face was a permanent shade of red. But every time you tried to confront him, he’d brush it off with some gruff excuse.

It wasn’t until Boomslang, ever the watchful eye, cornered you in the hallway that you realized just how bad it had gotten.

“Hey” she called, her voice calm but firm. She crossed her arms, leaning against the wall. “I think you need to check on Hazard.”

You blinked at her, confused. “Why? What happened?”

“He’s been sick for days” she said, her expression unreadable. “I told him to rest, but of course, he blew me off. I saw him nearly fall earlier. He’s too stubborn to admit he needs help.”

“That does sound like him” you muttered, already heading toward where you’d last seen him.

Boomslang called after you, her tone dry. “Good luck. He’s impossible.”

When you found Hazard, he was exactly where you expected—still working, hunched over a desk with sweat dripping from his temple. His movements were jerky, and his shoulders sagged under what seemed like the weight of the world.

“Hazard” you said, stepping into the room.

“I’m busy” he snapped, not even looking up.

“You’re sick” you countered, your voice firm.

“I’m fine” he barked, his thick Scottish brogue rougher than usual. His accent always deepened when he was agitated, and now it rolled off him in waves. “I’ve nae got time fer this. There’s work tae be done.”

“You can’t even stand straight” you said, moving closer. “Boomslang told me you nearly fell earlier.”

His glare could’ve melted steel. “That wee tattletale’s got nae business stickin’ her nose in! I told her I dinnae need help, an’ I dinnae need yours either.”

You didn’t argue with him. Not yet. You just stood there, arms crossed, watching him sway on his feet like a leaf in the wind. His pride was his worst enemy, and you knew the only way to break through it was to let him run himself into the ground—literally.

It didn’t take long. Not five minutes later he stumbled mid-step, his knees buckling as his body gave out. You darted forward, catching him before he hit the ground.

“Jesus, Hazard!” you snapped, lowering him onto the couch. “What did I told you?”

His eyelids fluttered open, his gaze unfocused but still defiant. “Ach, dinnae fuss over me” he muttered weakly. “It’s just a wee fever.”

“A ‘wee fever’ doesn’t make people pass out” you shot back, pressing a cool cloth to his forehead.

He flinched at the touch, his face flushing even more. “I’m nae some bairn who needs coddlin’” he grumbled, though his voice lacked any real bite.

“Well, you’re acting like one” you said, dabbing at his sweat-soaked skin. “You should’ve come to me, Boomslang or hell even Susie the moment you started feeling like this. But no, you had to be all macho man about it.”

Hazard groaned, his arm draping over his eyes as though to block out your scolding. “Yer nae gonna let this go, are ye?”

“Not a chance” you said, your tone softening. “You scared me, Hazard. You can’t keep pushing yourself like this.”

For once, he didn’t argue. Instead, he let out a resigned sigh, his brogue softer now. “Yer too good tae me, love. I dinnae deserve it.”

“You deserve to be cared for” you said firmly, brushing a strand of damp hair from his face.

His cheeks darkened, though whether it was from the fever or embarrassment, you couldn’t tell. “Ye’ve got a way of makin’ a man feel like a right fool, ye know that?”

“Good” you replied with a smirk. “Now, shut up and rest you big baby.”

He huffed, muttering something under his breath in Gaelic, but he didn’t fight you. As the fever began to break, he mumbled a quiet, “Thank ye” before drifting off to sleep.

Boomslang was right—he was handy work. But he was your handy, and you weren’t going to let him go through this alone.

[watarfallar]

*staring off into the distance remembering how 3rd Life ended* Oh, you're here too. Huh? Incorrect quotes? Oh yeah, here, have these. *continues to stare off into the distance*

Scar: Wow, great work on the Halloween decorations. Where did you get the fake skeletons? Grian: Fake?

Grian: You can’t have a gun on stage! Scar: WRONG AGAIN! I can have a gun, and I must have a gun, that’s the rule of Chekhov’s Gun: have a gun. And now that it’s been seen, I will have to shoot someone before the end of the play.

Scar: "29-34 Give a particular ecosystem and explain how could it be protected." Scar: Help. Grian: Forests, stop cutting down trees and don't hold gender reveal parties anywhere near them.

Scar: I intend to stay pissed at you forever. Scar: Even if I seem helpful. Grian: Then you're in luck. Grian: Because you don't.

Grian: Scar is forbidden from monologuing.

Grian: Help! I’m drowning! Scar: Calm down. We’re only in six feet of water! Grian: NOT ALL OF US ARE TALL!

Scar: I trusted you! Grian: Why?

Scar: Where did you get that tomato soup? Grian: It’s actually a bowl of ketchup I just microwaved.

Scar: Grian, can you help me? All of my clothes keep disappearing for some reason. Grian, wearing a hoodie that's 5 times bigger than their size: Spooky.

Grian: What's my sexuality?! I don't fucking know! I'm not straight, and that's all that matters. Well, maybe that's unfair to the straights. Some of my best friends are straight! Well, one of them. Well, I know them, and Scar is perfectly tolerable person in small doses!

Grian: I typed "bitch" into my GPS and guess what? I'm in your driveway. Scar: Grian: Vroom vroom, come out already.

Grian: You know me, Scar, I don’t take any shit. You know what I say to my haters? Scar: What? Grian: I say: “Please don’t hate me, I’m really nice.”

Grian: Do you need anything from the store? Scar: Actually, yes. I have a list. Grian, reading: Epsom salts, coconut oil, baking soda, cornstarch, lavender essential oils… citric acid…? Scar: I’m making homemade bath bombs. Grian: Smokeless gunpowder?! Scar: I want to do it right!

Grian: I love cooking breakfast. It makes the whole house smell like bacon. Scar: That’s true, but it also smells like fire and panic. Grian: You and the smoke detector need to get off my case.

Scar: Happy Scorpio season. If you have to burn a bridge, do it safely! Grian: With NAPALM.

Grian: Ew. What kind of tea is this? Scar: I boiled gatorade.

Scar: I’ve never been in a snowball fight before. I don’t know the rules. Grian: What? Scar: Is there a point system, or is it to the death?

Grian: Whatever happened to the concept of less is more? Scar: But if less is more, then just think of how much more 'more' will be!

Scar: Hey, Grian, where are you going? Grian: Well, it depends. When I die, probably hell. Grian: But right now I’m going to McDonald’s.

Scar: I’ve only ever said ‘I love you’ to two people in my entire life: Grian and a guy in a dark club who I mistook for Grian.

Scar: You’re starting to look like me more and more every day— Grian: Bursts into tears Scar: Why are you crying? Grian: You’re ugly! I don’t want to look like you! sobs

Grian and Scar enter a dive bar Grian: Look, I know you’re disappointed but could we at least have a drink. Scar, in a scuba diving suit: I would like leave, please.

Grian: I am a ninja. Scar: No, you’re not. Grian: Did you see me do that? Scar: Do what? Grian: Exactly.

Grian: I feel like everyone on this island is suspicious, Scar. Except you! Scar: But Grian, I think you're suspicious! Grian: NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Scar: Cool, any other secrets? Grian: I still sleep with the blanket I had as a baby. Scar: Awww- Grian, stern: I use it as a gag when taking people’s pets hostage. Scar: Scar: There’s no punch line ‘cause it’s not a joke isn’t it?

Grian: So what are your political beliefs? Scar, awkwardly trying to impress them: Well, I think Pikachu would be a lot more powerful if he had a gun.

Grian: I try to avoid pointless group activities. You know like school Christmas Parties or Jury Duty. To me, the most awful sound in the universe is that mangled first note of your peers singing happy birthday. Scar: Cool stance. Counterpoint: these are free cupcakes. Get over yourself and take one.

[amuseintime]

Line, Please

Heya guys! Anyone who's followed me on AO3 for a while probably knows about The Play Is Over But The Script Remains/the Scriptfrin Saga... Buuut decided to start sharing on tumblr too. While this is not the first chronologically for the series, it IS the first I wrote, and works as a oneshot, so thought it'd be a good starter ^w^

For anyone who hasn't read this already...

Time Loops are bound to have some strange, lingering effects. Thankfully, Siffrin knows his lines, so everything’s okay, right? Sometimes JUST his lines… Siffrin’s family tries to help them when they start “scripting,” unable to summon up any words but the ones they’d spat far too many times. Mirabelle POV (more or less) and written in one sitting. Hurt/comfort

Semi-verbal Siffrin ahead, and obviously, spoilers for In Stars and Time. Enjoy~

It’d been a few weeks since they’d beaten the king. A few weeks since breaking both his curse and Siffrin’s. A few weeks since they decided to keep traveling together. They were on the road this lovely morning, camping in the woods as they often had. Birds sang their cheerful Piou Piou as Bonnie threw a bunch of leftover ingredients into a mass of omelettes. Most smelled quite good, but everyone silently agreed that Siffrin would get the “honor” of trying the Pear and Cream Omelet. Isabeau was taking down most of the tents while Odile worked on purifying some water with craft, leaving Mirabelle awkwardly idle. Sure, she’d been the one to chop the firewood—scissors craft was useful for that—but it still felt wrong to be the only one not helping!

Though look! It seemed she was no longer alone.

“Good morning Siffrin, did you sleep okay?” Mirabelle asked gently. Hopefully he wouldn’t find it condescending, but these days, it was something worth asking…

His curse may have been broken, but he still suffered from it.

“Hey Mira, have you thought about doing a sleepover tonight?”

“Um… we do those… every night?” Mirabelle said. She had a sinking feeling in her gut, but no need to panic yet! Maybe it was just a strange but innocent question, maybe it’d be a one off, maybe-

“Absolutely, I’ll let everyone know!”

“Siffrin, that’s not…” Deep breaths Mirabelle, you couldn’t panic now! Panicking would just make him panic, and then they’d both be panicking, and that wouldn’t help anyone, and-

Deep breaths, Mira. In… and out… (Thank you, Siffrin, for teaching her that). She took an acting class once, as one of the many, many classes she took at the House of Change. It wasn’t one that had interested her all that much, but time to put at least a bit to good use. She kept a smile on her face and forced her cadence cheerful as she raised her voice, looking at the others. “Hey guys! Siffrin is scripting again! What should we do about that?”

It wasn’t the first time something like this happened. Sometimes, something would occur that was a bit too similar to something that already happened and he’d just run with it. He described it as instinct. Blind. Deaf. Unthinking. As ingrained as returning a hello, or his attempts to wink despite only having one eye so it looks like blinking. He just woke up though, what would’ve triggered it? Maybe her being the first he saw? But that hadn’t happened in days! Turned out he just needed to be carried in a tent if he fell asleep outside—waking up on grass to sunshine and temperate weather was, sadly, a trigger. So something else?

A few times he just started falling back on lines when he got too stressed out… oh! A nightmare, maybe? That seemed most likely. Or if he had a nightmare about waking up in loops, it could be both… either way, that’s….

“Why are you acting so happy about that, you crab!” Bonnie yelled, glaring at her.

In a tone way too teasing to be any more natural than Mirrabelle’s, Odile said, “Because, young one, if we get too upset, Siffrin might panic.”

… what she said. Unfortunately, trying to just shock Siffrin out of his script tended to only lead to him shouting his lines instead. Turns out, adding stress to something stress related does NOT fix it!

Siffrin wandered over to Isabeau and greeted him with a cheerful, “Hey Isa! Need to do the favor tree thing!”

All of them looked at Siffrin helplessly with uneasy, clearly fake smiles except Bonnie. Bonnie stared at him with a clearly concerned pout. “So. What do we do?”

That was the question, wasn’t it? Because while they were learning some of Siffrin’s triggers and that trying too hard to break him out might very well make it worse…

They didn’t have a solution.

Siffrin, for his part, was apparently scripting so thoroughly that he was, in fact, trying to act out a day, ignoring that they were in a forest and there were no particularly large trees in favor of just finding a bit of root sticking out of the ground to sit on. He stared across from himself, waiting…

Waiting…

“… Loop?” Siffrin said. He blinked (or winked???) his eye rapidly, as though trying to clear something out from it. His head slowly swiveled as he took the world in with an utterly lost expression. Finally, he settled on Mira. “Where is everyone again?” The playfully embarrassed cadence didn’t fit his wide-eyed expression or shaking hands at all, but it was just another sad thing to get used to.

Where is everyone? What did that mean though? Could he not see them? Maybe the trees were hiding one of them from view? Perhaps Bonnie? He’d had a few lines pretty clearly concerned for the kid and-

“We’re in the Liligant Woods,” Odile said, “twelve days north of Vaugarde. We’re headed to Bambouch to reunite with Bonnie’s sister, and the loops have been over for three weeks.”

Oh , Mira thought, feeling a bit silly. That made sense, actually. There probably wasn’t any time where Siffrin needed to ask where he was (not many options there!), just everyone else…

Isabeau knelt across from Sif, close enough for their rogue to reach out to him, but not touching yet. (Another thing they failed on. He didn’t mind touch, actually, he just wasn’t used to it). “Are you back with us, buddy?”

“Isaaaaaaaaa!” Siffrin cringed at his own cheer, screwing his face up while the next lines spilled from his mouth. “What a… TREE-mendous tree.” He then face palmed, but cracked a smile as Isa laughed despite the situation.

“Sure is! Maybe not an actual favor tree, but still, gotta love these leaves, right? Look! Five pointed! Like a, uh…”

“They’re called constellations .” Siffrin paused, then shook his head.

“They’re… not?” Mirabelle said.

“I think you mean stars, right? Like that word you say under your breath!” Isabeau said.

Siffrin actually smiled a little at that. He inched forward a bit, but paused. It was hard to tell what, exactly, he was thinking, but as Isa opened his arms for a hug, Siffrin almost literally fell into them.

Isa grinned and scooped Siffrin up like a little princess, bringing him over to the fire.

Bonnie grinned, taking a plate. “Heyfrin! I know you can’t say how cool and awesome and delicious they are ‘cause you’re stuck with the same lines, but! OMELETTES! And one of them, is my secret special one! Try it!”

Oh. Oh no. Mira had to try her best not to grin, a skill honed through many puns. Luckily madame had a great poker face, and Bonnie would look eager no matter what, so really only Isa was going to give it away, and  Frin was too busy being held and blushing and pointedly not looking to see Isa trying not to laugh.

Siffrin. Poor, trusting Siffrin took a bite of the dreaded pear and cream omelet and managed to smile despite it, chewing for way too long.

Madame smirked at him, “So, how was it, young one?”

Siffrin gave a thumbs up, a grin, and said, “Croissants.”

“Hmm… bad then,” Bonnie said, nodding sagely. They put a stick on their nose and pushed it up like it was a pair of glasses and pretended to write something down. “No one appreciates my gee-nee-us. I am researching omelette ology. Very important, makes my back hurt.”

”Really, Boniface?” Odile said, though she couldn’t stifle a laugh. “We’ll see how your back is doing in forty years.”

The actually good omelets were passed around shortly after. Unfortunately, Siffrin had to be returned to the ground so Isa could eat too. Sure, Isa probably could’ve carried Sif under one arm like a sack of potatoes, but then Siffrin would have a hard time eating, so really this was best for everyone.

Siffrin only picked at breakfast though, except for when Bonnie was watching. Thankfully, he could scarf down food fast enough that a bit of child-staring ensured he was fed, but…

“… hey, are you okay? I’d, uh, say we should have a feelings talk, but given the circumstances…” Isabeau said. He was trying to stay positive, but everyone could see him trying almost as hard as Siffrin to find words, but neither could.

Odile spoke up next, “Well, whenever you do, I don’t mind listening either.”

“Woop woop.”

“Are you sassing me?” Odile said, eyebrow raised.

“In a while, Rockodile!” Siffrin said with a grin.

“NO!” Bonnie shouted.

Siffrin opened his mouth with one of those cat-like grins he gave before making a pun, but what came out, well, wasn’t, “Rice. Pineapples. Samosas.” He chuckled like he’d said something, but everyone’s confusion and worry must’ve shown. He slunk back, trying to hide under a hat he didn’t have anymore.

“… Siffrin?” Mirabelle said, reaching a hand out but stopping short.

“… take my ashes and throw them from the highest peak,” he said, pulling his legs up to his chest and hiding in them.

Mirabelle’s heart twisted in her chest. He’d been doing so well, but she couldn’t imagine this was easy. It was tempting, to try to just keep going, to smooth it over for them, but would that help? It might just make things worse, and even if she asked, he couldn’t answer.

“Sif?” Isabeau said.

Siffrin had gotten up, leaving. “Sleepover, clock tower, see you there!”

The others started talking, moving, but Mirabelle sat, still thinking.

How would that feel? To wake up and barely be able to communicate? To go off thinking she was doing one thing and realize she was somewhere completely different? To try to apologize, but not having the words. It feels uncomfortable just imagining it, but with other people, it’s worse. It’d be so frustrating to look up, to try to talk, but then not be able to understand. And then trying anyways, it’d be so sweet, but she’d feel guilty for it. Wouldn’t it just be easier to leave? Then they wouldn’t have to adjust for her. Though maybe that was just her anxiety speaking, telling her that others wouldn’t want to deal with it, but isn’t this anxiety too? Fear and pain and trauma? Maybe not exactly the same, but still. And imagine that happening so quickly? Asking everyone to accommodate her? Everyone to…

Change.

Stand up Mirabelle. This is your cue. “I’ve got this.”

Siffrin was fast, he’d already run off, but he was upset enough that he didn’t bother hiding his tracks (or maybe he wanted found). Bushes and grass were pushed aside, branches broken, an easy trail. Siffrin sat by a stream, muttering lines to himself and tugging at his hair in frustration. It tore at her heart. In some ways, it was hard to imagine this was the same, playful and near-careless traveler they met on the road…

“You’ve Changed,” Mirabelle said.

Siffrin jumped, twirling around. “Mirabelle, have you heard of the CARROT method?” He tugged on his hair again, teeth grit. In other circumstances, maybe it’d be comical to see him throw a fit after saying something out of context, but knowing he couldn’t stop…

“I have, actually,” Mira said. “Thank you.” She went to sit beside him, watching the water flow. “… it’s hard, isn’t it? Changing.”

He blinked at her, opening his mouth before nodding his head. Siffrin sat back down, just watching.

“A lot of people come into the House all the time, you know? To learn, to try new things, to become different people. It’s expected, celebrated even, but it doesn’t mean we take it lightly. Change is destruction, and you have to weigh that when you decide to Change…”

“And you didn’t get that choice, did you?”

Siffrin shook his head, tears beading in his eyes.

“That’s alright. Sometimes it just happens. And, well… you can’t always get back what you lost, but you can still try to Change in ways you’d rather, y’know? And, um…” she swallowed a lump in her throat.

“Maybe we should go over strategy?” Siffrin said, putting a hand on her back.

“Thanks Siffrin, but- hey! Wait! I’m supposed to be comforting you!”

He chuckled under his breath.

Mira huffed a little, but smiled. “The point is, well, yes, you’ve Changed. And it was forced on you, so now you’re something you probably didn’t want, but that doesn’t mean we stop living you. A lot of people Change all the time, and we still welcome back whoever they are now. I’d be a crabbing TERRIBLE house maiden if I left you just because you have some trouble communicating now.”

Siffrin’s breath hitched and he inched closer, slowly putting his head on her shoulder. Wetness soaked the fabric there as she threaded fingers through his hair. “It’s okay. I’m here. You Changed, but I still love you.”

His hands came out, tugging almost desperately on the fabric. The hug was near-crushing, almost painful. Perfect.

“There there… I get it. Having trouble with, um, thoughts and all. And I can barely imagine, I’m, making you guys try to figure things out, but we want to, okay? Besides, I’m great at learning! I’ve learned so much I taught classes on learning! And, um, maybe im not naturally as smart as Isabeau and Odile, but they are! And kids can Change really easily, and the point is we care. We care enough to Change with you, to learn. If you’ll stick around and give us the chance.”

He couldn’t muster more than a nod between sobs as an answer, but that was good enough for her. They sat there until Siffrin cried themselves out, leaning lightly against her as they returned.

He only let go to collapse into Isabeau’s arms instead.

“Good talk?”

“Sounds like there’s nothing else for me to add, huh?” Siffrin said. It was hard to pin his voice, hard to say when he’d use this line, but at least for now he was smiling.

-------

I prefer tea, but buy me a Kofi?

[nexus-nebulae]

god sometimes i wish the whole "you wouldn't say/do that to a physically disabled person" lie that certain mentally ill people say was true bc i fucking WISH i could use "I'm in a wheelchair" as a gotcha for people being ableist against me. unfortunately,

[stupidnaturals]

.

[arolesbianism]

Every now and then I get haunted by my past as a dr fan because someone mentions it or smth and lemme tell you the worst case scenario is if they bring up v3 in an even slightly positive light because nothing will make me start giving a shit abt dr again except for my burning hatred of that damn game, I just spent like 30 minutes ranting to myself about how much of a nothing character Kokichi is in the bathroom after showering just to vent it out because if I don't rant abt v3 every now and then I'll explode and kill someone

[sttoru]

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. you show your husband some affection, thinking you two were alone - only to be interrupted by your son.

tags. dad!toji fushiguro x wife!female reader. fluff, suggestive. mentions of toji developing / having a dad bod. & reader having a mom bod. reader gets called ‘princess, mama (by gumi)’. baby gumi waking up bcs of a nightmare. excuse me - not beta read bcs i was half asleep when writing this rt_t

“tooooji,” you smile as you enter the kitchen. you’ve put megumi to bed - finally - and have the chance to spend some one-on-one time with your dear husband. both of you deserve the rest after a hard day of work.

toji has been putting the dishes back in their designated spots whilst you were away. the dark-haired man turns his head to the side once he feels a pair of arms wrap around his waist. a small grin tugs at his lips, “missed me, princess?”

you roll your eyes. even if years have passed since your marriage, toji has not stopped using that specific nickname for you. he loves calling you ‘princess’, because that’s what you’ll always be to him. in his eyes, at least.

“mhm,” you decide to indulge him. you bury your face into his broad back, feeling the muscles he’s worked so hard on obtaining. after megumi was born, toji did let himself go for a bit, but that is a good sign.

it means he’s content with his life - this peaceful life that he’s settled down for with no regrets. no more being reckless, no more battling for money; he’s now got a family to come back home to after all.

“is the little brat asleep?” toji asks while putting the last dish away. he’s visibly enjoying your warm hands that have slid under his shirt. your skin is so soft to the touch compared to his.

you chuckle and nod to his question. “gumi’s sleeping like a baby,” you rub your husband’s stomach gently, feeling the little bumps of his fading abs. you’re loving his new body - just as much as toji loves yours.

toji turns around to face you, desperately needing to return the favor. he can’t get enough of being with you. his rough hands grab your waist and bring you closer against his body, until your chests are nearly touching. he lowers his head to your neck, “that means i can show my wife how much i love her, yeah?”

you shiver at how toji’s voice turns from soft and gentle to sexual and husky. big hands find their place on your tummy, massaging the loose skin with its stretch marks. you can hear your husband’s breath hitch. “fuck,” toji swallows his spit, his fingers moving to grasp your hips.

toji loves how your hips got wider after you’ve given birth to your child. every change in your body, whether big or small, is completely welcomed by him. your body has blessed toji with a son he loves and he’ll forever be grateful for that fact. the least he can do is take his time to appreciate you.

“so beautiful,” toji sighs as he leaves soft pecks on your neck and throat. his fingers are working their way down to your thighs and ass—not leaving a single patch of skin untouched. his lips eventually find yours and you melt into his embrace.

it’s getting heated and the tension is palpable. toji’s about to lift you into his arms when you catch a glimpse of a short figure in the doorway. your eyes widen and you immediately detach your lips from your husband’s.

toji quickly catches on and sighs. he cocks his head to the left, the sight of his toddler standing at the doorway coming into view. “damn kid,” he whispers, nearly pouting because of the interruption. you playfully slap his bicep—a warning to fix his potty mouth in front of megumi.

“h-hey, gumi,” you say with an awkward giggle, walking towards the child. you fix your shirt in the meantime, straightening the material. you crouch down to megumi’s level and pat his head tenderly, “what happened? why are you out of bed?”

megumi stares up at you with teary eyes. he’s clenching onto his dog plushie, hugging the stuffed animal to his little body. you can easily guess that he’s scared—probably because of a nightmare. he’s been getting those more frequently.

though, instead of explaining himself, megumi searches for answers to something else. he points at his dad who’s leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. the toddler then looks back at you like he’s made some big discovery;

“mama papa kissing!”

you nearly choke on your spit. megumi’s a clever little boy and it shows through his advanced vocabulary. you’re surprised that he’s learnt what that meant already. you try to deny what your child said, “no, uhm, mama and papa were just hugging!”

toji snorts at your half assed excuse. he lazily walks over to you two, hands in his pockets. he bends forwards and looks megumi in the eyes with a huge smirk on his face. “yeah, we were. ‘n you totally ruined it,” he utters without any shame and menacingly sticks his tongue out at the little boy.

you hiss and lightly shove toji—he cannot take anything seriously. you’re trying your best to distract megumi’s attention from what he’s seen his parents do, to what his reason is for waking up.

“did you have a nightmare again?” you coo and pick your son up. he instantly snuggles up to you and presses his face against your chest in search of comfort. you smile and can conclude that your assumptions are right.

you pet megumi’s head whilst softly humming one of his favorite lullabies. toji watches your interaction with his son and his mood softens once more. he silently hugs you from behind—also wrapping an arm around megumi—turning it into a little family group hug.

“y’re all right, buddy,” toji mutters to megumi and the little boy sniffles in response, “mama ‘n papa ‘re right here.”

after a couple minutes, you carry megumi back to his room before putting him down in his bed. your husband stands next to you as you make sure your kid is tucked in properly.

megumi stares up at you with a sniff and you nearly melt at the adorable sight. you brush his bangs out of his eyes and kiss his forehead, wishing him a good night. the toddler nods and hugs his plushie to his chest again, still a bit shaken up from the nightmare. however, he’s doing a lot better after he got comforted by both his parents.

“sweet dreams, gumi,” you whisper and rub megumi’s cheeks with a fond smile on your lips. toji simply stares at you conversing with megumi—his face showing little to no emotion. though, from within, toji is absolutely in awe at your motherly personality. you’re the perfect mother.

megumi gets drowsy and tosses onto his side so he could be more comfortable. he struggles to open his eyes, but manages to look at toji. the little boy pouts and points another finger at his dad, this time drowsily warning him, “papa no kiss mama, ‘kay?”

that comment catches you off guard. you’re embarrassed by the fact that megumi still remembers what he’s seen in the kitchen. you try to clear your throat and explain yourself, but toji’s one step ahead of you. he silently mimics megumi’s words and rolls his eyes—

“yeah yeah, whatever. i won’t,” toji promises his son. the toddler clearly inherited your husband’s protectiveness. you chuckle at the playfulness between the two, enjoying the jokey banter the father-son duo have each time.

megumi huffs in victory and nods. he can sleep in peace now, knowing his dad won’t try anything funny with you. he closes his weary eyes and is asleep within just a few seconds.

you stretch your arms and sigh in content. you can’t help but chuckle once you notice how megumi’s fallen asleep with a tiny smile on his lips. you give the child one last forehead kiss before leaving the room in silence.

toji follows right behind you. now that his son is sound asleep, he doesn’t have to keep his promise. technically— he wasn’t planning to anyway.

“c’mere,” your husband mumbles and grabs your hand. he pulls you into a tight hug, hands instantly roaming your body which he admires so much. he plants his lips onto yours not a second later.

you smile into the kiss, finding it funny how toji couldn’t keep his (fake) promise for even one second. he would die if he actually couldn’t kiss you, and that isn’t even an exaggeration.

toji pulls back after a moment and smirks at you—those bedroom eyes of his very telling.

“so, where were we?”

[fmhobeus]

so, nerdy loser college boy choso *sighs* *opens legs*

a/n: just so you know, this man is gonna make you do all the hard work for a piece of that loser boy dick 😮‍💨 so... um so at some point around 2000 words in i realised this is way more than a hc post :3 eat it up if you will!

nerdy!choso who borderline has no friends except his gaming buddies who doesnt meet irl like ever. he doesnt like going to classes, especially this one. he doesnt need it but it's a requirement for all first years. and boy is glad it is when he sees you come in.

nerdy!choso who only listens to discussions when you're talking. suddenly he needs to put down his headphones and nod at every word you're saying. his eyes follow every gesture of your hand, every sway of your ass, every single time you fix your hair.

nerdy!choso who is starting to get a bit enamored with you, your style, your way of speaking. he loses track of time gawking at you in class from the last benches as you prettily do all the work in the class. he hates how beautifully your hair falls on your face, how nicely your clothes fit you despite being pretty modest for college. he hates how he can see the silhouette of your tits when you turn to the side. but he's too much of a gentleman to keep looking.

nerdy!choso who ends a game early when he remembers you, lying and saying that he had promised someone to meet them somewhere. the place is his bathroom and the person was you. god, you really shouldn't wear those tight jeans to class y'know? how will he continue to be a gentleman if you do?

nerdy!choso who despises groupwork but prays to dear god this class has some reason to pair you two together. he's getting so desperate to talk to you knowing damn well he too pussy to do it on his own. and the lord answers his prayers, the teacher assigns groups of three for a presentation. it's you, him and some slacking trust fund baby.

nerdy!choso who is about to combust and have a full blown panic attack when he sees you approach him after class with that smile on your face that would make the angels swoon. you're going on about distributing the work equally and what not while he is trying his fucking hardest to not accidently make eye contact with you and piss his pants : (

nerdy!choso who now has your name, your number and your email and he feels like the happiest man on earth. his hands are literally shaking as he responds to your request to call. he's overthinking every word he types.

choso: yeah i can do wednesday. choso: i'll be okay with whatever day you want.

nerdy!choso who hops on video call and short circuits with a view of you in an oversized band tee and a brief view of your room. why did you have to be this pretty? why did you have to video call him when you couldve done the work on text? why did you have to put your hair up like that? why oh why did you have you say "choso? hey, you there?" so seductively to bring him back to the present?

nerdy!choso who gets like no work done in a 30 minute call which felt like three hours. he knew he would hardly be paying attention so decided to record the call with your consent, saying he'd need the notes you were typing out on screen only to play it back and stroke his dick to you for what might've have been the twentieth time this week. his strokes only getting faster as you say his name in that voice he imagines sounds way better moaning and screaming it instead.

nerdy!choso who, after the presentation, is on greeting terms with you when he sees you studying in the library. he sits as far away from you as he can while still being able to see you. occupying the coziest corner of the library to stare at you study right when you come up to him.

"can i join you, choso? i'm all alone and your space seems comfy" you say with a smile, "of course, i dont mean to disturb you, is saw you were on your own too, so..."

uh oh, uh oh, uh oh. god no. please no. please dont say yes. please dont be staring at her like some dumb idiot (too late) please.

"uh... yeah sure why not?" he awkwardly says as he makes room for you to keep your things. he was such an idiot for thinking he could say no to your pretty face in the first place.

nerdy!choso who is absolutely drunk on your scent. it feels way better than any alcohol he's ever had. he feels like an animal in heat when he smells your sugary perfume mixed with the styrofoam-y air conditioned smell of the library. you're gonna kill him, yknow? how is he supposed to respond to this? what is one to do when their stupid college crush sits next to them? he gives you a half smile before furiously typing away on reddit, the only place with answers for losers like him.

nerdy!choso whose hands. oh his hands. (can be i a big whore for a second?) his long hands that feel like they're the size of your face. his kempt, beautiful and trimmed nails. his lengthy fingers that seem to yearn for something more to foddle with than just the keyboard or controller. he typed as such an insane pace it made your pussy ache. he was going so fast, jesus. those hands were meant to do more than just ask "how to talk to girls" on reddit.

nerdy!choso who (on the advice of reddit) asks if you would want him to order something for you. you tell you had a frappuccino not too long ago and that it was quite sweet and filling. and he hates himself for thinking that he could give you something much sweeter and filling than that like a horny fourteen year old.

nerdy!choso who is now determined to not come off as a creep so he does his work with the focus of four adderalls. he is typing as fast as his heartbeat, not realising he got two classes worth of work done in just an hour. he looks over at you, blissfully unaware of the absolute war in his mind.

nerdy!choso who feels as though if he doesn't muster up the courage to ask you out right then and there, he'll probably be the biggest loser on the planet. (as if he wasn't already)

nerdy! pathetic! choso who stutters a million times and barely gets the job done then too. his eyes are scanning your entire being (trying his best to not gawk at your tits) for any sign of discomfort.

"so- uhh so ummm... wo-would you, like, uh... like to do this again? sometime?... i got a.. a lot of work done today, so.."

oh heavens, the sheer nervousness in his tone makes you want to pull his pants down and show him how to really get work done.

you agree with a smile, even suggesting a better, more ambient (more romantic) cafe to study in. choso's heart is about to burst and flood the fucking library with his blood the way it is beating at an alarming rate.

"umm yeah uh 5 sounds... awesome... i hope it isn't a-a bother to you?" "no way, choso. i loved today," you offer him a smile as you gather your things, "i really like your hair, by the way" "i like your hair too, y-y-you smell very nice", he gulps.

fuck. why did he say that? what? you smell nice? who says that? is he like ten? you can't help but giggle at the sheer embarassment on his face.

he feels as though he's gonna melt into a puddle and turn to stone and throw up all at the same time.

nerdy!choso who is the most stupidly hot guy you've ever met, you think as you go giggling back to your dorm. mental note: pick a skimpy outfit for 5pm ;)