#this should be read in the same tone as ' today i saw a balloon :) '

[crow-quet]

(has requests i need to do that ive been putting off for ages) i want to draw moonpaw :)

[verse50]

Heat

It was the first weekend over 80F and we took full advantage of it on our six acres. Friday night we let the kids loose on the rock pile, loading up the trailer for the dump, then packed them off early Saturday for soccer camp. All morning he bush-hogged the treeline while I wrestled the sunken raised beds into shape. This house had been so neglected when we bought it two years ago. Finally we had the time and money to make it nice again.

I was pulling weeds when he tromped out in chaps and ear protection. Chainsaw hanging from his belt. That and the sweaty dirt on his face made me look a bit longer.

“I’m gonna saw up that alder and then get to the stairs,” he half shouted. Bush hogging will do that to you. He grinned and took out his ear plugs. “The beds are coming along, maybe-” I was on my knees and gazed up at him quizzically.

“You’re not wearing a bra,” he said, at the perfect angle to peer down my shirt.

“Nope!” I agreed, and swung myself back and forth. It looked and felt like two water balloons bumping in a pillowcase. Then stuck out my tongue.

His mouth set. “I gotta get the stairs done today.” Then he was gone into the brush, chainsaw revving. I bent down again to the weeds, trying to drown my frustration with deep breaths. 

He was so hard to read. I was a free spirit, a spitfire, and he was a calm, methodical engineer with a heart of gold. There was no better man on the planet, I was convinced, but gosh sex was tough with him! It took him so long to adjust to change. A toe ring. The tiniest gold nose ring. A tattoo on my ankle. Introducing him to my vibrator. I had to pace everything at six month intervals or it was too much.

 But once he got used to it...holy fucking shit. He basically dissected that vibrator and and studied the user manual. Found similar ones, tested them on me like I was a guinea pig. Even took me to a toy store in Dallas then fucked the daylights out of me until 3am. And then...it all petered out like a spent firework. I would try to keep the energy going, keep him interested, but I could never tell what worked. He was pretty shy about sex, almost embarrassed. He wasn’t comfortable with dirty talk. We couldn’t really sext because his job required cellphones be lockered except at lunch. We could go months on once a week then he would surprise me with a two day fuckfest, like a volcano erupting. I lived for those times but could never figure out how to make them happen more often. All it did was make me ramp up with excitement, feel more free, then try to cram myself in a box again. He was such a good man, though. I just needed to be more patient, less wild. I ripped up the weeds angrily.

The sun was high when he came in for lunch. I had sandwiches, chips, and his favorite tea ready. There was even more dirt on his face and I sat there awkwardly, trying to equate my silent chip-crunching husband with the dirty woodsman I wanted to pounce on.

“I think I’ll build out the landing a bit from the stairs, maybe put in a new handrail,” he said. I sipped my tea and nodded. “The driveway could use some gravel.”

“The trailer has all the rocks in it still,” I pointed out.

“Mmm. I’ll go to the dump first, then hit Home Depot and Brother’s Fieldstone.” He looked at me as if I had just appeared at the table. “You’re wearing a bra now.”

“Uh-huh.” I cut off a smart-ass retort and became very busy fishing pickles from their jar. “I’m gonna work on the petunia baskets.”

After the peck on my cheek he would be gone for at least two hours. I ripped off my bra, blasted Slayer on my bluetooth speaker, and delved into the hanging baskets. By the time I had repotted everything and cleaned up the cobwebby  lounge chairs I was a filthy mess. Shower time.

You couldn’t see our house from the road. I went out on the deck in just a towel, then threw it off and lay naked on a chair, basking like a lizard. Big fluffy clouds blocked the sun momentarily, then shooed away when I spread my legs wide. Everything needed to dry. My hair would need a serious flatiron session. Idly I thought of him coming out of the forest...rushing home...making a beeline for me...a naked woman tanning herself alone...so easy to take advantage...helpless...but there was a shotgun behind the door...

Damn it, I thought. Can’t even have a fantasy and it gets all practical. He’s wearing off on me. I looked at my phone. About 30 minutes of naked freedom left- I should water the baskets again. I picked up the hose and my phone rang.

“Hey baby,” I said, working up the cheerful wife tone. He really was wonderful. I just needed to...not need so much.

“Baby, guess how much the lumber cost for the deck, right now?”

I thought for a minute. It has been awhile since we did a major project. “Um, I think we did the brown house for under $600?”

“Yeah, well, I priced it all out. It’s gonna be over $2000! We can’t swing that now. It’s insane, the prices. Never seen anything like it. And Brother’s is out of pea gravel!” He was worked up. This man stuck to budgets religiously.

“O my God! No, you’re right. We can’t do that now. The deck will be fine for awhile, definitely. It’s sturdy at least.” The sun was so hot on my back. I stared at my shadow, waving the limp hose to and fro.

“So I emptied the trailer and uh, checked everything out. Since we can’t do anything more on that today I, um....” he coughed. I waited, cautiously easing on the water. “I went to that new little toy store in the strip mall.”

Water spurted out onto my shadow. “I see. What kind of toys?”

“The only kind!” His voice rose. The hose engorged and gurgled. “I found one like your pink one, you know that does the swirly thing, too? But this seems to be a softer material, a better grade of silicone, I think this company merged with a big distributor and, uh...”

My mouth twisted. It was just like him to get carried away on technical aspects. “That’s so sweet, baby. What are you wanting to do with that?”

“I want to use it on you.” He was almost whispering, as if there were seven other people in his F-250. “Like Dallas.” It was such a distant memory. I couldn’t work myself all up again, it was too exhausting. But he went to the store, my dear husband...he wants something.

“You can do whatever you want to me, baby,” I said sincerely. “Just come home and we can hang out the rest of the day.”

“I don’t want to hang out. I want- I want you to not wear a bra again. I don’t want you to feel, uh, like you have to put it back on? Around me?”

I aimed the water where my shadow’s pussy would be. Cool drops sprayed up onto my flushed skin.

“I’m not wearing a bra right now.”

“What?”

“I’m naked out on the deck. Been tanning after I took a shower.”

Silence. He was gunning the truck, I could hear the roar.

“I hope you’re bringing some wood home for me.” VVVBBBBRBbbbbRRRRrr.

“Baby, if you can just let me plan stuff. It’s easier for me. I’m sorry I’m slow and I disappoint you. I wanted to tear your shirt off there but I’m just never sure...I don’t want to do anything you don’t like, I don’t want to hurt you- really- just let me plan sometimes and maybe try to go along? I promise I’ll do better, you are so sexy-” sfhkhfffffppp. His phone cut out. I stood there, dumb, watching the water drip my shadow off the edge of the deck. He had never talked to me so much at one time. “-if I can plan and know in advance that you like it we can do more, you drive me crazy you know that, right?”

I took a deep breath. My legs were shaking into the damp, hot wood. “How do you want me to be, when you get home?”

Pause. More gunning. “On the deck chair, doggy. Ass in the air. Wait- I need to shower first.”

“No, you don’t. You’re sexy with the dirt on you. I love it.”

“You do?”

“Yes, I love my sexy, dirty husband.”

“Ok.” He was firm. The blinker was on, he was at the intersection ten minutes away. “Ass up, doggy. Hands by your side. Face turned away from the stairs. I don’t want you to see me. I have-have- a special delivery.”

I turned off the water. The whole deck was soaked. Not one basket had gotten a drop. “Ass up ready to receive. I’ll be waiting for you, baby.” I was so excited my words came out slowly, bouncing through a lump in my throat. The sun was cold and hot at the same time.

“If you respond well there will be future appointments.” His voice was full of confidence before the phone shut off.

I almost tripped on my way over to the lounge chair. Fortunately my towel was there in case things got really wet.

Thank you to @daily-esprit-descalier for sharing the photo that inspired this story.

Linktree

[jeo9n]

Majesty Pt 4 || JJK

Pairing : Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre : Slow burn, Angst,Fluff, King JK, future smut

Warnings : None for this chapter.

Wordcount : 2.3k

previous | next

A few day have passed and I basically did the same stuff everyday. I tried helping Maria out whenever I could, I explored the castle a bit more and I even found out there was a library. I would sometimes go there and read a book, but I mostly found myself out in the garden, enjoying nature.

I haven’t had any interactions with the King since I heard them that night. He was quite busy, and rarely was at the castle. The only times you’ve seen him was at dinner, or when he came home late at night looking rather exhausted. But you two barely talked. I didn’t know how to act around him, everytime I saw him, I was remembered about how I stood outside of his door like a creep listening to him having sex.

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You were out in the garden getting some fresh air, when you got interrupted by someone. "Goodmorning, miss." The chamberlain, that I first saw at the competition, greeted you with a big smile on his face. "Your mom is here to visit you."

"My mom is here? Where is she?" You asked him, as you got up from the bench that you were sitting on. "Yes, she is waiting for you at royal office." He told you.

You quickly made your way inside once you thanked, and said goodbye to the chamberlain.

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Your mom immediately greeted you with a tight hug once you arrived at the royal office. It felt like you haven’t seen each other in years - even tho it only was a few days.

"Dear, you look beautiful." She told you, as she looked at you, admiring the light blue dress you were wearing. "Come on, let’s sit down and talk. I wanna know everything."

We sat down on the sofa and she sipped on her tea that Maria brought us.

You didn’t know what you should tell her. There wasn’t much happening the last few days - nothing exciting anyway.

"How’s the King? Is he handsome?" She asked excitedly. "Well, he isn’t old and ugly as I thought." You laughed. "But, i don’t know. He doesn’t seem that nice."

"What do you mean? Does he treat you badly, Y/n?" She looked at you with concerned look on her face.

"He doesn’t treat me bad. But, he always answers me in cold tone, like he never really wants to talk to me. And the other day I saw him with another woman." You told her, leaving out the fact that you heard them having sex.

"Do you mean he has a mistress?" She asked you, and you nodded. "Well, a King having a mistress isn’t rare. I mean, they have to let go of their sexual frustration somehow." She looked at you. "Im sure every King had a mistress at some point.

"But then why did he not marry her? I don’t understand, why did he look for a girl to marry, when he already has a woman by his side?" You asked her. "Y/n, a mistress is only there, to fulfill the Kings sexual desires. A woman he marries is someone, that he wants as his wife. Not someone he only uses for sex. There’s a difference." She explained to you.

"Will she still be around after the King and I get married?" You asked her, trying to understand all of this.

"Of course not." She assured you.

"Im scared mom." You mumbled. Marrying someone is scary. Especially, if you don’t really know your future partner. You’re about to get married to the King, and you don’t even know him, you’ve only known him for like a week, you don’t even know what kind of person he truly is.

"What are you scared of, dear?" She asked you concerned.

"I’m scared of everything mom. I’m scared about the wedding, I’m scared of meeting his parents, I’m scared of sharing a bed with him, I’m scared about what comes after.... I’m scared of having sex with the King."

"There’s no need to be scared. I’m sure the King will treat you nicely, why wouldn’t he? He chose you to be his wife, he must surely like you." She tells. "And don’t worry about sex, my dear. Sex is something you should enjoy, not something to be scared of."

I guess she’s right. The King chose me for a reason, there’s no need for me to be scared. I tried to assure myself. But, I’m still not sure about having sex with him...

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

You kept on talking with your mom for a while, before she eventually had to leave for work.

After your mom left, You found myself at the dress fitting. You were being squeezed in one wedding dress after another, after one of the maids brought out a dress, what the King claimed, would be the perfect dress for you. It was white - who would’ve thought. It was a off the shoulder dress, with balloon sleeves that were made out of mesh. It had a few diamonds decorating the décolleté area. The dress was huge, but it look absolutely beautiful. You couldn’t wait to try it on.

You tried the dress on, and immediately fell in love with it, It hugged your curves beautifully - You never felt so pretty in a dress before.

All the maids, including Maria gasped as soon as they saw me. The King was absolutely right about this dress, it was the perfect dress for you.

"Miss, you look absolutely beautiful." One of the maids said told you, everyone agreeing with her. "I’m sure the King will be happy, seeing how beautiful you look, in the dress he picked." Another maid said.

After we tried on a few jewelry pieces, to see, what would fit best with the dress.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

After the dress fitting, it was time for lunch.

"I heard, your mother came to visit you today." He tells, as he made himself comfortable in his chair. "Yes. I was really surprised, as I wasn’t expecting her to visit me today - but I was happy to see her again." He nodded.

"How did your dress fitting go?"

"It went pretty well! We picked a really good dress." You tell him with a smile on my face. "I’m glad." He smiled back.

"When is the wedding by the way?" You ask, not having talked about it with him before.

"The Wedding is gonna be next week," he says calmly. "Are you nervous?"

Of course I’m nervous. "Oh! That’s so soon. I thought, it’s gonna be next month or something." You tell him nervously.

You weren’t expecting the wedding to be next week.

"Well, it was supposed to be next month. But I rescheduled it to next week." He says, voice confident.

"Oh! Okay. But what about your girlfriend?"

He looked at you confused. "My girlfriend? I don’t have a girlfriend." He told you with a chuckle.

"What about the Girl that was in your bedroom the other day?" You asked.

"She’s not my girlfriend, Y/n. She’s just a mistress." He told you.

"Okay." Was all you said. Feeling a little weird, hearing him, admitting that he has a mistress.

"Are you jealous." He asked you, an amused look on his face.

"No! Why would I be jealous? You’re free to do whatever you want, your highness." You told him honestly.

He looked a little taken back by what you said. But that’s the truth. If he wants to have a mistress, then he can have one.

"You don’t mind?"

"I mean, we’re not married yet. I wouldn’t want you to have a mistress once we’re married though." You told him, "or are you planning on keeping her?"

He looked at you confused. "Why would I keep her, when I have you?" He asked you.

"I don’t know, your highness. It was just a question, forget about it." You told him once you looked at him. He looked confused, like he couldn’t really understand you.

He nodded and took a sip of his water. "Do you have any other plans for today?" He asked, ignoring what you had just told him.

You looked at him with furrowed brows. "No, i don’t really have anything to do." You laughed awkwardly.

"Would you like to have a Walk around the garden with me tonight? - I’ve noticed you spend a lot of time in there. Let me show you around the garden, let me show you everything more properly." He tells, waiting for your answer.

"Sure! I’d love that."

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

After lunch u went back into your room, taking a shower and putting on some fresh clothes. Putting on a light yellow dress with flowers on it. You left your hair down, the way you always wore it.

You weren’t going to lie, you were kinda excited to have a little more alone time with the King. You haven’t really gotten to chance on getting to know him. I mean, you should at least get to know him a little better, before marrying him.

You decided to ask him a few a question about him. If he’s okay with it, of course.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

As you reached to the door to the garden, the King was already there, waiting for you. He wore a white blouse with brown trousers. His hair was slightly wavy and parted in the middle. He looked effortlessly beautiful just standing there.

"Ah! There she finally is." He said jokingly, causing you to smile.

"Im sorry, your highness. I would’ve hurried up, if I knew you were waiting for me." You told him, as you both walked out in the garden.

You both walked around in silent for a bit, before he spoke up. "Do you have a favorite flower?" He asked you, when he noticed you looking at the daises near the fountain.

"Yes! I love roses, yellow roses in particular." You looked at him.

"Ah, i see. Is there any reason why you like yellow roses, Y/n?" He asked you, as you two continued walking.

"My brothers would always pick yellow roses for me when I was younger, because they knew I liked roses. Everytime I was sad, they would come home with yellow roses, trying to cheer me up. They brought me yellow roses for my birthday every year, they said that the Rose resembled me, its bright and delicate like me." You told him with a smile on your face, as you thought about the old times. "Do you have a favorite flower, your highness?"

"I don’t have a favorite flower, Y/n" he chuckled. "But I liked hearing about your favorite flower." He said, while he looked at you.

The King showed you around the garden like he said he would. He showed and explained certain parts of the garden to you. Before you both decided to take a Break.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

You two kept on walking around the garden, until you stopped and sat down on a bench, that was under a tree.

"Can I ask you a question, your highness?" You asked him, looking at him.

"Of course."

"Why did you chose me? I mean, there were other girls, that clearly knew a lot more stuff about being a wife than I do." You mumbled, as you picked on your nails.

He turned his head and looked at you. "I was looking for a wife, Y/n, not a maid! All that those girls told me was, that they know how to do my laundry and cook for me. I don’t care about that stuff. They looked way to eager to become my wife, you were different though. That’s why I picked you." He says.

You were different? What does he mean? You didn’t even step forward when he first asked you to. All you did was, stand there awkwardly, hoping that the competition would come to an end soon.

"What do you mean?"

"You did not try, and push yourself on me like the others did. You were all the way at the back and kept yourself hidden from me. I liked that, it made you more interesting, it got me more interested in you." He says, eyeing you.

"I see." You said, looking in front of you. "Can I ask hold you are? - I’m sorry, I’m not trying to sound rude. I’m just curious because you know, were getting married and-"

"I’m 23, Y/n." He says with a grin, interrupting you.

"Oh! You’re not much older than me, thank god. I thought you were a little older - not that you look old! I just, I don’t know, I didn’t expect you to be so young." You tell him, not wanting him to think, that you thought he was old and possibly offend him.

"Don’t worry! people often get surprised, when I tell them, I’m only 23." he chuckles. "I guess, they just don’t expect a King to be so young."

"Yeah I guess." You say.

"Earlier you said, you’ve noticed me being in the garden a lot, were you spying on me, your highness?" You joke.

"Would you be scared, if I said yes?" He looks at you with a serious face.

"No, i would not be scared." You chuckle, but you don’t find it funny. His question suddenly making you feel a little uncomfortable.

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You two talked for a little longer, before you both decided it was time for bed.

The King walked you to your bedroom, insisting on it even tho you told him, there was no need.

"Goodnight, Y/n. Sleep tight." He says with a grin on his face, once you reached your bedroom.

"Goodnight, your highness." You tell him, before closing the door.

You got ready for bed, not being able to get the Kings question out of your mind. It did made you a little scared, you weren’t gonna lie. But he was probably just joking around, and you were overthinking it a little much, like you always did.

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Taglist : @fangirl125reader @min-nicoleee @yzkyzkuniverse @safi4x

[kingreywrites]

words cannot say (what I want them to say)

Prompt: "You weren’t there...why weren’t you there? I needed you! I needed you! And you weren't there!" for @thefoghaslifted and anon

Fandom: Tangled

Word Count: 7670

Summary: "He's alive," she announces, yet there's no hope in her tone. "He… He won't be for long."

This picture is wrong, wrong, wrong, and Eugene wants to scream. Adira doesn't stutter. Adira doesn't talk in a soft, compassionate tone. Adira, the woman who chased down a myth for twenty-five years, does not lose her faith so easily.

And yet.

(Eugene receives a letter telling him his father is dying. He goes to the Dark Kingdom, and tries to find the right words.)

Note: this is a Death Fic so uhm yeah, Edmund does die here. Also this takes place five years post canon! I kinda mention it in the fic but just in case it isn’t too clear... Anyway it’s kinda sad, kinda weird, kinda long, but I hope someone enjoys this anyway gdhdhhd

Read on ao3

Eugene's first clue is one of his father's ravens, not Hamuel, flying towards him with a message attached to its claw. It should have been a relief - Hamuel is... bad, at this whole messenger thing, and despite begging Edmund to send a bird that wouldn't get lost in the boot of a random nesdernian merchant along the way, his father had never relented, giving his full trust to his companion of decades. So it should have been a good sign; a sign that the letter made its way to him in the quickest, smartest way possible. A sign that nothing got lost, and that maybe, Edmund was listening to him. 

Yet, a pit of worry forms in Eugene's stomach at the sight. What kind of message couldn't allow for the delay Hamuel would necessarily cause? 

His second clue is the small, neat writing that greets him on the letter. Adira's handwriting. She writes to them, sometimes, in the empty space of his father's letters; when Rapunzel asks her something in one of Eugene's own letters to his dad, or when Adira wants to make a remark on one of their adventures, always neat-picking their fights even from miles and miles away. She writes to them, so he knows her handwriting, knows that she never sent him her own letter unprompted before, knows that she wouldn't if she didn't have something to say. 

Adira knows how to get to the point. The short message feels like a punch in the gut, and Eugene leans on the railing of the balcony without meaning to, hands trembling around the paper he keeps reading again and again. 

"Eugene?" Rapunzel calls. He doesn't know how long he has been there. His eyes blur, looking at the letter again.

Eugene (not Fishskin, and it had been his last clue, because Adira always called him Fishskin, no matter the years and the distance, no matter if he complained or bragged about it, and the fact that she didn't here told him the worst thing about it all. She was trying to be gentle.)

You must come to the Dark Kingdom at once. King Edmund was wounded in an accident, and his condition is serious. Doctors fear he might not pull through.

Bring someone with you, and don't die on the road. (Gentle, too gentle, and if her words hadn't been enough, he would have known here that she did not think his dad would pull through either.)

"Eugene?" Rapunzel asks again, closer, but he doesn't turn to her.

We'll be waiting for you.

- Adira

A dark spot appears on the last sentence, staining it. He rubs at his eyes, heart beating sharply in his chest, and hands over the letter to Rapunzel without protests, his hands too weak to hold onto it anyway. He sees her face pale, sees the cold determination in her gaze, and he knows she'll agree before he even opens his mouth, but he asks anyway. 

"Can we go visit my dad?" 

She hugs him fiercely when he turns towards her, and he melts into it, still trembling. They begin packing right after. 

------

Lance goes with them, steering the hot air balloon effortlessly. Eugene had tried to protest, words stuck in his throat as he had looked at Kiera and Catalina helping Rapunzel pack, but Lance hadn't budged. 

("The girls will be okay," his best friend had said, voice achingly soft, like everyone who knew about what was happening. "You need me." Eugene had wanted to say no, but he couldn't, so Lance had come.) 

Quirin is chatting on the other side of the balloon with Rapunzel. Eugene feels bad that he hadn't even thought of warning him when he decided to go to the Dark Kingdom, but Rapunzel had sent for him, and he was already coming to the castle, having received a letter similar to Eugene's own. Varian's father is a tall and silent man. The complete opposite of his son, Eugene had thought when he first met him, until the day Rapunzel and Quirin had a four hour long vivid discussion about apples and how to cook them, and Eugene had seen in the older man's excitement the echoes of Varian's own when he talked alchemy. Today, he learns that father and son get worried the same, all wringing hands and tired smiles that don't reach their eyes. It's a knowledge Eugene could have done without. 

Doctors fear he might not pull through. It's almost as if Eugene can see the words dance in front of his eyes, for how much he had read them over and over again. The environment passes him quickly, cold wind blowing through his hair, and Eugene can't seem to focus on any of it. 

There's a forest under them. Eugene is pretty sure they went through it the first time they were on the road, making their way to the Dark Kingdom with difficulty. He wonders, somewhat distantly, if there's a chance he'll spot Cass down there, riding through the woods on Fidella's back, her cape floating behind her. The idea is nonsensical - she's all the way over to the west side of the continent, and he knows it, knows she couldn't be there.

(His last irrational fear, before leaving, is that Rapunzel will miss Cassandra's next letter. It always arrives at the end of the month, and even if they tried, they wouldn't be able to warn her in time that they were travelling, and she won't get Rapunzel’s answer when she expects it, and she'll worry, and-

"Eugene," Rapunzel had said, her forehead against his. It was night. The Princess and the Captain of the Guard couldn't leave the castle in a day, no matter how eager they were. "It's okay. There will be more letters."

Maybe there won't ever be more time with his dad.)

Eugene keeps watching the forest down there, until it's out of sight.

------

That night, Rapunzel huddles close to him, seeking warmth as they fly through the colder air, and Eugene doesn't have it in his heart to ask for space anymore. He had done so earlier because- because he couldn't talk about it, not yet, not when he didn't even know, not when Edmund could- could already be dead as he hoped he wasn't, could survive as he grieved him. Eugene had asked for space, because he wouldn't be able to refuse if Rapunzel asked, and he didn't want to talk.

When he wraps his arms around her, it's with the cold resignation that now was a good setting for a breakdown anyway. Maybe in the dark, she wouldn't see his tears.

"I love you," she murmurs against his skin.

"I love you too," he answers easily, bracing himself.

She falls silent. Hums a soft tune under her breath - a song he taught her way back then, when everything was still so new and she didn't even know any other song than the incantation and the ones she had tried writing in her spare time. It's a song from his childhood, silly and simple, and he chokes up for the umpteenth time today, his nerves frayed. Rapunzel holds him tighter.

It takes a while, but Eugene falls asleep.

------

He hears the surprised and worried exclamations of his name as he jumps down from the balloon, but Eugene doesn't turn back. They were close to the ground anyway, and he can't wait any longer. Adira is there. A somber expression on her face. Eugene can't breathe as he walks towards her.

"Is he-"

"He's alive," she announces, yet there's no hope in her tone. "He… He won't be for long."

This picture is wrong, wrong, wrong, and Eugene wants to scream. Adira doesn't stutter. Adira doesn't talk in a soft, compassionate tone. Adira, the woman who chased down a myth for twenty-five years, does not lose her faith so easily.

And yet.

There are a million questions at the tip of his tongue - what happened why didn't you protect him why does he have to die what's wrong with him why my dad why now why why why - but there's only one that's important.

"Where is he?"

A word from her, and he's off. He remembers very well how to find the throneroom, and his father's bedroom so close to it.

He's not surprised to find Hector sitting next to the door, his two bearcats growling at Eugene. Eugene is too tired to argue - he knows that Hector's loyalty is as strong as he is stubborn, and he knows the knight loathes to leave his dad's side when Edmund is in trouble. If Hector hears everything he says in this room, then so be it.

To his shock, Hector gets up. His eyes, always so wide and angry, are cast down.

"I'll give you two privacy," he says, his voice so alien Eugene barely recognises it. Even in the years they had known each other on somewhat friendly terms, Hector had always been loud, full of righteous anger over the smallest things. The man in front of him looks… defeated. He pets the head of one of his bearcats, still looking at Eugene. "If something happens, tell them to come fetch me."

Just like that, he leaves. The bearcats lay down on each side of the door. Eugene, hands trembling anew, finally turns the handle.

Edmund is in bed, pale skin flushed red. The air is heavy, reeks of medication, and his dad - his dad, so tall he easily towers over him, a mountain of a man who can easily defeat the strongest warriors - his dad looks small, under the covers.

Eugene is still stuck at the door, unable to move. In all this time since he got the letters, he hasn't thought once of what he would say, what he would do once he finally saw Edmund. He half-thought it would be too late, and he should be relieved that it's not but- he won't be for long, Adira had warned, and Eugene is helpless to do anything, he doesn't understand anything, Edmund was fine before and now-

There's a low sound in the room, of his dad struggling to breathe, and it's like a bolt of lightning went through Eugene, spurring him into motion. There's a chair on the left side of his father, and he sits down here heavily, eyes never leaving Edmund's face.

"Dad…" he whispers. "Dad, I…"

There are tears in his eyes again, and Eugene hates his own helplessness. His father is in pain, his father is dying, and he's just sitting here, unable to do anything, to fix anything. His hand seeks Edmund's, and Eugene gasps at how cold it feels, heart dropping in his throat when he raises the cover and sees purple fingers with greying fingertips.

High fever. Failing lungs. Cold extremities, likely due to low blood pressure. The terrible certainty in Adira and Hector's expressions that his father was going to die. Eugene is no doctor, but he has lived on the streets for a decade, and he knew the signs to look out for, knew what illnesses he should avoid at all costs, and treat immediately if he ever fell victim to them.

Sepsis.

His tears fall. Eugene, selfish as always, manages to say only one thing: "Please don't die."

Edmund doesn't answer.

------

After a while, Hector comes back to stand guard in front of the room. Eugene would thank him for the privacy, but he hasn't been able to say anything since that one whispered plea, the weight in his throat too overwhelming.

After a while, Rapunzel appears at his side. He doesn't notice, really - just, at one point, he raises his head and she's here, like she always is. She looks sad, too. He holds her hand. (He still can't take Edmund's without feeling sick. He can't give his own father comfort, because he's too scared of the cold and stiff fingers. What a son he makes.)

After a while, Lance is here too. His best friend of years, who has enough presence to make an empty theatre feel lively by being in it, is quiet as a mouse. Eugene wants to joke about that, before the mere idea catches up to him and his stomach twists terribly. How fucked up do you have to be to joke in front of your dying dad, he thinks. He can't avoid this, can't lighten the situation, but being a coward is ingrained in his bones at that point, and the fact that he could have- in front of-

"Hey Eugene," Lance says. His hand, big and warm, gently touches Eugene's, which is gripping his own hair tightly. He doesn't remember doing that. "Do you… Want tea?"

Eugene startles, not expecting this question. It takes him a moment before it registers, a moment before he tries to answer, only opens his mouth wordlessly, and closes it. Silently, he finally nods, heart speeding up for reasons he can't understand.

"Okay," Lance smiles. "Do you want to come make it with me?"

Eugene should say no. He should stay with his dad, who is at death's door and could die at any moment, his internal organs fighting a losing battle. Eugene should say no, he should talk and speak to his dad, speak to Rapunzel who he knows is worried, he should… He should be a good son, and say goodbye to his father, one last time.

His head is spinning. He opens his mouth, closes it without a sound, and nods again. He's not a good son.

Lance's hand on his shoulder guides him more than his feet do. The kitchen isn't far, and Lance busies himself with its sparse content, searching for a cup silently. Quickly enough, he's making tea, water boiling noisily in the kettle, breaking the oppressive silence of the castle. Eugene stands around, more and more aware that you don't need two people to make tea.

It feels like no time at all before Lance is pressing a warm cup in Eugene's hands, telling him to wait for it to steep. Lance keeps moving, making another cup. Eugene wants to ask who it's for, but can't bring himself to.

"Rapunzel and Qurin wanted tea too, remember?" Lance answers, at the question he can apparently read in Eugene's eyes. Eugene doesn't, in fact, remember; he's not even sure Quirin was in the room. "Adira said coffee, though. And Hector said he didn't want anything, but he strikes me as a coffee guy. I'll make myself tea, that way if I'm wrong, I can always switch them."

Just like that, Lance starts talking about anything and everything, and Eugene relaxes a fraction. He listens, and sips his tea slowly, the warmth soothing in throat. He thinks Lance put some honey in it. It's really good.

It feels like he's at home, and everything is okay, for a moment. Lance had become a cook after adopting the girls - he wasn't very good at listening to orders, so he had simply opened his own restaurant near the castle, soon becoming the most popular one in town. Of course, it helped that the princess herself visited it often, but Lance was genuinely amazing at what he did, and that's what kept the curious around.

For two guys who, fifteen years ago, thought their best chance at a future was to make a deal with the Baron, they were doing pretty good for themselves.

Eugene finishes his cup right as Lance finishes his preparations.

"Thanks," he croaks out shakily, earning a blinding smile from his best friend.

"You want another?"

Eugene hesitates, before nodding, making Lance chuckle. There's still boiled water in the kettle, so it won't take long.

"You know," Lance says, a certain carefulness in his voice, "it still happens to Catalina, sometimes. It's not like when she was a kid, but when she gets too anxious, her voice just… leaves her." Eugene feels himself flush, lowering his eyes. "Tea helps her. It doesn't give her her voice back if she's not ready, but it helps with her throat, when she feels like it's bothering her. I just thought…"

"It helped me too. Thank you," Eugene repeats. He wants to say that he's not like Catalina; that he's a grown man, who shouldn't have clammed up just because he felt bad, who should have been here for his father and everyone else, who should be there, right now, instead of drinking tea, but he bites his lips and holds it back. If he throws himself a pity party on top of it all, it'll take even longer.

"Eugene." Lance is in front of him, hands on his shoulder. Eugene can't do anything but look up, and sees in his best friend's eyes so much love and compassion that he wants to hide from it. "I know you. I don't know, exactly, what self-perceived failures you are torturing yourself with right now, but I know you're being too hard on yourself anyway. Your dad wouldn't want that."

Eugene breathes in sharply, tears burning in his eyes. He wants to get angry, or joke, or do anything to get out of this conversation, but he can't- he can't avoid this. The situation feels unreal, like he's going to wake up if he just concentrates enough, and he can't- he can't-

Lance pulls him to his chest and holds him tight. Eugene blinks, and suddenly he's crying, Lance the only thing holding him on his feet.

He shakes and he wonders how the shy kid he remembers became- Lance. Reliable, sensitive, funny Lance, who is a dad now and who can hold you together when you're falling apart.

Eugene remembers their first meeting, Lance crying in his new bed, freshly orphaned after the death of his parents. He remembers how quiet he had been for a while, and how he had stuck to him like a shadow after Eugene comforted him that first time, seemingly thinking him to be some sort of hero. Eugene, of course, had revelled in the attention, playing up his courage and his strengths, telling stories of his future adventures and of all the money he was going to have.

"How do you do that?" Lance had asked one day, after one of his stories. "You know, how do you… how do you not care about… your parents, and how they left? How do you stop caring?"

It had hurt, at the time. Lance's desperation (still grieving his family, still hurt, wanting to forget the pain without being able to) had flown right over his head, and all Eugene had heard was that his friend thought he didn't care, about anything. It was wrong, but that's what he had wanted, right?

So he had said: "Adventurers don't have the time to care about their family - they have the whole world to discover, after all."

It was a Flynnigan Rider quote. One of Flynnigan's enemies, sure, but Eugene thought it wasn't so stupid. He had wished he could be like that, like Flynnigan who didn't even have a family to care about, and could just do whatever he wanted.

But the truth he couldn't admit to Lance at the time was, Eugene cared. He cared and he cared and he cared, torturing himself with how much he did, crying himself to sleep with a practiced silence at the idea that no one in the world loved him. His own parents abandoned him as a baby, and he wondered what he could have done to them, wondered how he could be better if they came back. Eugene cared and he hated that he cared, hiding behind fantasies and made up names, desperate to escape his identity and his life and his skin. 

And when it hadn't been enough, he had tried to carve the kindness straight out of his heart, hurting everyone in the process. 

Even that hadn't been enough. Rapunzel had seen through him easily, finding him a worth no one would have even thought to look for. Gothel stabbed him, and all she managed to do was kill Flynn, because Eugene, who cried and loved and cared - Eugene had been there, like he hadn't allowed himself to be in a while. 

Maybe, if he was still Flynn, the thought of his dad dying wouldn't make him miserable. Maybe, if he was still Flynn, he wouldn't be crying on Lance's shirt, wanting for everything to stop. 

But if he was still Flynn, Lance wouldn't be there anyway. He would have lost his best friend after one betrayal too many, and never seen him again. He wouldn't love Rapunzel. He wouldn't love his friends, his family, his father. Probably wouldn't even know who Edmund was, or where he came from. He would be all alone. 

He doesn't want to be alone. He doesn't want the people he loves to leave. 

He doesn't want his dad to die. 

"Please don't leave me," he asks between his tears, voice quiet enough that he hopes Lance hasn't heard, but Lance holds him tighter and promises he won't. 

Eugene cries harder.

------

It's early in the morning. Eugene barely slept, kept awake by the idea of Edmund dying while he was resting. When the sun starts to poke through the sky, dim and feeble light reaching him, Eugene decides it's morning enough, and slips away to his father's room, careful not to wake Rapunzel. Hector is sleeping in front of the door, his bearcats piling up on him, but he opens an eye when Eugene arrives, and nods in his direction.

Edmund is still there, still alive. Quirin is here too.

"Couldn't sleep?" Eugene asks softly. It feels wrong to talk over someone unconscious, but… it feels wrong, too, to not acknowledge Quirin at all.

"I'm a farmer," Quirin says, "I wake up early more often than not." He doesn't return the question, but Eugene knows how awful he looks after a bad night, so Quirin is probably just trying to do the polite thing.

Eugene still has the chair closest to Edmund's hand. He also still can't take it, heart beating faster at the thought. His father's hand should be warm, agile as it handles a weapon, it should... it's his only hand left. It won't matter if he dies, but it's his only hand left, and Eugene feels ridiculous but he can't- he should ask Quirin to hold it, take his place since he couldn't give his father this one thing.

Edmund's breathing is louder today. He's struggling more. Eugene feels nauseous, unable to do anything, wishing he could have just slept and slept and slept so nothing would be happening.

"I met Edmund when I was ten," Quirin says out of the blue. Eugene raises his head, but Quirin isn't really looking at him. "I set him on fire, actually."

That gets a surprised snort out of Eugene, and a smile from Quirin, tired but genuine.

"Don't tell Varian, but I liked to experiment with all sorts of things at the time. It was supposed to be a self-destructive message, and, well, it was destructive alright."

"Why did you even give him a self-destructive message the day you met him?" Eugene asks.

"I was a friend of your mom," Quirin grins, a little self-conscious. "She was tired of Edmund being too shy to ask her on a date, so she asked me to deliver a message to ask him on a date. If he hadn't caught on fire, of course, I think they'd have both enjoyed it a lot."

Eugene smiles, and as the story progresses, he learns that Quirin gets embarrassed the same way Varian does, too. That's a knowledge he appreciates a lot more.

------

"It's all because he wanted to change," Adira says, cryptic as always.

The others left to have dinner. Eugene couldn't. Edmund's breathing is louder today, his fever higher, and he doesn't respond to pain stimuli. Eugene doesn't want to think about any of that, so he turns towards Adira, desperate for conversation.

"What do you mean?"

Her eyes are stuck looking at her king, pain and grief and anger in her expression. Adira doesn't usually allow herself to be read so easily, but she has been on edge the entire time. It takes some time, but Eugene understands that she's just as afraid as he is.

"The accident. Him getting wounded. It's all..." Adira swallows. Her eyes harden. "It's all because he wanted to move on. I wanted to move on." 

Eugene doesn't really understand what she's getting at. He's heard bits and pieces of what happened, mind so scrambled he had trouble making sense of it, but it was simple enough. They were doing renovations. Edmund got hurt - a stupid accident, as all accidents were, and then it only got... worse. An infection that didn't want to heal, and when they really started to worry, it was too late. Eugene wants to rage at the unfairness of it all, and maybe he will, later, but it simply makes him tired. 

Edmund shouldn't have to die like that after surviving decades of terrible loneliness. 

"It was an accident," he ends up saying, because he can see the tightness of Adira's jaw. 

She doesn't say anything to that. Long minutes pass, only rhythmed by Edmund's uneven breathing. 

"I've always hated traditions. Especially stupid ones. The first thing I did, after being accepted in the Brotherhood, was to ask for its name to be changed, because I am a woman." A sigh. Eugene doesn't dare interrupt. "I was asked to behave myself properly, and took to eating food as noisily as possible, daring anyone to come fight me if they were brave enough. Of course, no one did." She pauses. Looks at his dad again. "When Edmund decided to destroy the moonstone himself, I protested, but I didn't think it was such a bad idea. For a long time, I wondered if I could have saved his arm, could have saved our kingdom, if I actually tried to stop him. If I had listened to traditions more closely, because not all of them were built on false beliefs." 

Suddenly, Eugene gets it. The emotion in her voice, the lines around her eyes - a feeling so foreign in Adira that he hadn't been able to recognise it before. Guilt. And he knows that, for all that she's talking about the past, it's very much the present that is troubling her. 

"Maybe that's true," he shrugs, quiet. "But then again, you tend to be right most of the time. And my life is what it is because of what happened back then, so I'm pretty grateful it all went down like it did." 

That makes her chuckle, because what he says is definitely true. Adira's confidence is not unearned. But there's still something hanging in the air, and he waits to see if she's going to confide in him. He feels like he knows Adira as much as he doesn't - she's as straightforward as she's cryptic, and he thinks they're friends, in a way, but he's not one to push when someone has secrets they want to keep, and Adira isn't one for sharing. The silence between them is an understanding, and he's not sure how to navigate anything else. 

"This castle," she starts, hesitant and slow, "was built over the spreading black rocks. It's strong, but it won't hold forever, now that its core has disappeared. We weren't doing renovations as much as we were emptying it, because King Edmund decided it was time to move on from the past, and start to live somewhere livable. It was a tough choice for him, and I... heavily encouraged it." 

Bitterly, Eugene realises that after surviving so long in the claws of his past, his dad would still be taken by it. This castle, as much his home as it was his prison, won't let him escape it. Eugene wants to cry at that, wants to shake Edmund and ask him to get up and not let himself die for something so stupid, wants to shake Adira and tell her it was a good thing and it's not her fault it turned out so badly. Mostly, he wants to bury his head in his hands, scream and forget it all, because he knows his father only felt ready to leave behind his ancestors because Eugene always insisted that they did not define who they were. 

He thinks he should say something meaningful in answer. Something like, I forgive you Adira, but then again she does know that, and doesn't really need his forgiveness, because she didn't do anything wrong. She's not seeking that; she's frustrated, just as he is, and needs... companionship. Someone who understands. 

He's not good at coming up with life-changing advice anyway. 

"Stupid castle," he declares, voice unsteady. 

"Stupid castle," Adira echoes. 

That's enough, for now.

------

Eugene is alone with Edmund again. It's been four long days since he got here, and he knows… He knows it won't be much longer. Doctors, when they come, try to make the king comfortable - they don't try to save him.

Eugene is looking at the form of his dad's hand under the cover again. Edmund wouldn't even feel it if he touched it, but Eugene still can't shake off the guilt and the shame choking him. He shouldn't be disgusted by his dying father. He's not doing any of this right - he's not fighting to heal him, he's not loudly grieving, he's not holding onto hope, he's not talking to him, he's… He's not a character from one of his books. Standing vigil at someone's deathbed wasn't just a couple of lines in his backstory, and every single minute of it hurt in a way he shouldn't allow.

This isn't about him, and yet it's difficult to think like it's anything but. Edmund hasn't regained consciousness once. The fever and the infection are doing damage they can't even see, and the doctors suggested his mind might already be… gone.

"I don't want you to die," Eugene whispers, words like knives in his throat. "I don't want you to leave. We've only had five years together, and it's… It's too short, I want more."

I want, I want, I want - he's selfish, he knows it, and he can't bring himself to regret it, not when that's the only thing which makes sense. His dad is still young. They already lost so much time together, already had twenty-five years to catch up on, and it's over? One accident, and he's gone, Eugene an orphan all over again?

"You've still got too much to make up for to leave me like that," Eugene bits out, a familiar and safe anger drowning away the hopelessness.

It's easy, to blame someone who can't respond, to get angry at his dad instead of crying over him. Eugene had spent years being angry at everything, and mustering this resentment all over again takes no effort at all. He clenches his fists on his knees, tremors coursing through them, and the feeling grows like a storm, until he wants to hit something.

"You- You've been so busy, rebuilding this stupid country, and we've barely seen each other these last years! We kept saying later, later, we'll have time later, and look where that got us!"

Edmund sleeps. His closed eyes, his heavy breathing, it all becomes too much for Eugene, igniting a fire he doesn't control. He slaps his hands on his knees, hard, frustration making him shot up from his chair and pace, but it doesn't seem enough because- Edmund is dying, his stupid dad is dying because of a stupid accident and it's so terribly mundane, it makes Eugene want to bash his head on the wall. He grips his hair, tries to breathe -deep, even breaths that his father can't manage-, tries to keep his tears at bay even though his eyes burn.

"All my life, you weren't there for me!" he explodes again, "You weren’t there… Why weren’t you there? I needed you! I needed you! And you weren't there! You weren't-" His voice breaks this time, and he cuts himself off, immediately feeling ashamed for his outburst. He sits down again, like a puppet with its strings cut, and his hands shake even more than before.

He doesn't feel better. Edmund doesn't look better.

"I'm sorry," Eugene whispers. "I'm sorry, I- I…" I'm a terrible son, he can't say. I'm not doing this right, I'm not being fair to you, I'm terrified and I don't know what to do. I want to wake up tomorrow, and still have a dad, still have a chance to get to know you better, because five years isn't enough and I don't want to lose you. I'll miss you so much.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles finally, mind buzzing with all he wants to say, all he's not sure how to say. "I forgave you for all of that long ago, I- I shouldn't have screamed." Not that it matters - but it does, at the same time.

Since he first received Adira's letter, Eugene had wondered about having the right words. It should be meaningful, right? His last words to his dying father, they had to be important, they had to be something that would help Edmund, didn't they? Except Edmund is unconscious. Maybe already gone. And these words, these words he tortured himself over, maybe they weren't for Edmund's sake as much as they were for his. It made him feel worse, for some reason. Selfish, again.

Eugene presses the palm of his hand against his eyes, slowly feeling how his tears slip through anyway. He wishes Rapunzel was here, even if he's the one who asked for some time. She would know what to say. She would… she would help, because kindness and advice and everything, it came easier to her. Eugene is still… still learning, he thinks, still not caring enough in comparison. He's never caring enough. He's rude, and yells at dying people because he can't keep his emotions in check, and doesn't hold their hands because he's scared, and- and-

He's not good at this. He doesn't want to be.

"I never thought I'd have a dad," he chokes out. "Even now, I'm not sure I know how to be a son, after so long of not being one. But… But I'm glad we could learn together, these last few years. I'm glad you are my father." Despite the weirdness, and the awkwardness, and Dabney - Eugene doesn't say that, but it makes him chuckle tiredly.

Maybe it would hurt less, if Edmund had died before Eugene could meet him. It certainly felt different learning about his mom; painful, too, but not anything like the claw he could feel bury itself in his heart. It's so soon, too soon to lose his father again, because five years is nothing in the grand scheme of things and Eugene had always wanted more out of life, but… If he could do it all over again, he'd want things to be exactly the same. He'll never regret meeting Edmund.

"I love you, dad," Eugene says, crying as he looks at Edmund. It's just the truth, not some grand declaration, but it's enough all the same.

Oh so slowly, Eugene rests his hand on top of Edmund's own, the cover between them. He thinks, maybe, that Edmund is breathing easier.

------

In the next hour, the last king of the Dark Kingdom dies.

------

"Want a drink?" Hector grunts from where he's laying, vaguely shaking a bottle in the air.

It's not really a surprise to find him here. Eugene sits down next to him, and doesn't bother with a response, instead taking the bottle from the knight's grasp and drinking a little out of it. It's definitely not the best stuff but Eugene has drunk worse in his life, so he doesn't comment on it. He's not looking to get drunk anyway.

He doesn't really know what he's looking for. Air, mostly. Rapunzel doesn't want him packing, she thinks he should rest, but staying too long with his own thoughts as company quickly gets heavy. Eugene sighs, and lays down completely, looking at the stars shining above them - there are a lot more than what you can see from Corona. Maybe because there's less people, and less light to hide them away.

"I'm not gonna comfort you if you start crying," Hector interrupts gruffly, sounding sick at the mere idea. Eugene laughs, because there's perhaps no funnier scenario than him seeking out Hector for a hug. At best he'd get trampled by his rhino.

"Staying inside sucked," is all he answers, and Hector hums. He seems to understand that.

They stay like this for a long time. Just silence, sometimes broken by Hector drinking a little bit more. Eugene would worry, if he didn't already know that everyone in the Brotherhood has a stomach made of steel, and that Hector will need a lot more to really get drunk.

It's not much, but it's nice. At least Hector doesn't pity him. Eugene is grateful for the comfort he receives, but sometimes the attention feels like it hurts more than it helps, and he's definitely getting overwhelmed right now.

"Any plan on taking his succession?" Hector asks after a while. It's not a surprise either that he breaks the silence first - when he first met him properly, Eugene thought he was the surly and silent type, but Hector did like conversation. He was unpleasant most of the time, sure, but if he was thinking something, he tended to say it directly. (He wouldn't say it, but Eugene also thinks Hector is a bit lonely.)

"Nah. Not really my kingdom to manage, and I'm too pretty to be king," Eugene responds. He told his dad years ago that he would never be his successor, and though Edmund had a difficult time wrapping his head around it, he had accepted it.

"Probably would have quit if you did," Hector says pensively. Eugene feels ready to protest because it's one thing for him to not want it, and another to have someone hate the idea so much, but he stops himself in time to hear Hector murmur: "I couldn't call anyone else my king."

Ah. Loyalty, the one thing in Hector Eugene understands easily. He can't really imagine having his one purpose in life being ripped away from him, can't imagine how it feels to keep going after that.

Then again, Hector has more experience with this kind of situation than most. It's a sad fact in its own right.

"Guess you guys will finally have to change the name," Eugene muses quietly, knowing it's better to change the subject. They're not the right people to have a heart to heart. "Dark Kingdom wasn't super inspired to begin with. Though, I hope you don't go for something equally stupid, like Dark whatever-the-new-regime-is."

He expects a barb about his own ancestors being responsible for that, but Hector falls silent. He's thinking, Eugene gets after a while, and he doesn't like the weird gleam in the other man's eyes.

"Edmundland," Hector whispers, nearly reverently. Eugene can't contain an audible gag.

"You are not naming it that."

------

Two weeks have gone by since Edmund's funeral, and it still doesn't feel real. Back home in Corona, it's easy to forget - Eugene doesn't see his father often, and his routine has barely changed, so it's easy to think, for a moment, that Edmund is alive and happy in the Dark Kingdom.

The wave of his grief recedes, before crashing back violently. When Eugene remembers, it hurts all over again, like he's back at his father's side hearing his breathing quiet, until there's nothing left.

He keeps going. He cries, too, and then gets up and keeps going. Rapunzel and him left for a week and a half, and there's plenty of work to catch up on, even if everyone is determined to ask him if he doesn't want to rest instead. In truth, he doesn't really know - keeping busy helps, but there are moments when he wishes he could simply curl up in his bed for a century, and never talk to anyone again. His mood is unstable, but he tries not to take it on anyone, as hard as it can be.

He already yelled at Lance to leave him the fuck alone once, and despite his best friend assuring him that he understood, Eugene wants to go apologise again.

So today, when he woke up on edge and then nearly threatened to kill Pete for stumbling, Eugene was quick to decide that it was better if he took that rest, finally. That's why he's on his bed right now, leaning back with his feet still on the ground, tracing Rapunzel's mural with his eyes and trying hard to not think about anything. But then his eyes stray to the right, to the painting he knows represents him and his father hugging, and Eugene doesn't know whether to cry or to yell. He takes a pillow, puts it over his head, and does both.

He doesn't feel better. He feels ridiculous.

Grieving feels like it should be more. He shouldn't wake up in the morning like he usually does, he shouldn't take his coffee the same way, he shouldn't hide behind a pillow and he shouldn't avoid his work and he shouldn't… He should do something more, and he cannot name what that might be.

What he knows, though, is that he misses Edmund, and doesn't feel like he's ever going to be able to breathe like he did before.

So he stays in his bed, pillow pressed against his head. He doesn't move when he hears the door open. Doesn't move when he feels Rapunzel sit next to him, before laying down just like he is. He's crying again, and he hates it.

"I don't know what to do," he admits then, voice muffled and broken. Rapunzel touches his arm gently. "I feel so bad, and I don't- I don't feel like it's gonna get better."

"It will," she says, so certain that Eugene can't do anything but believe her. "It won't be like before, but it'll hurt less, one day."

He closes his eyes tightly, until they hurt. Crying gave him a headache, but it's practically a constant these days. He thinks about Rapunzel's words, and knows intimately what she's referencing - remembers more than well how she grieved Gothel, full of hurt and pain and anger at the fact she even did. He hadn't really understood at the time either. But Gothel had raised her for eighteen years; Rapunzel had loved her for all of them, and still loved this mother she knew never existed. So she had mourned her, she had hated her, and Eugene had tried his best to be there for her.

It's not the same, with his dad. Of course it wasn't, because for all of their history, Edmund had still loved him, more than Gothel had ever cared for Rapunzel. It's different, but Rapunzel understands, in a way, what it means to lose a parent. She understands his grief. He sees it in her eyes when he finally discards the pillow, and meets her gaze. His face is a mess, yet she smiles sadly and kisses his tears away, pulling a worn out smile out of him.

"Thanks Sunshine," he whispers, "I really hope so."

"I'll be there, no matter what," she assures, even if he never doubted it. "I… I also have a gift, for you," Rapunzel says, more unsure of herself this time.

He straightens up as she does, intrigued, and wanting to let her do what she thinks will help. He thinks she needs it just as much as he does, because she lost someone too - no one wants to say it, but Eugene knows he's not the only one grieving.

He doesn't know what to expect from the piece of paper she holds towards him. Slowly, she hands it to him, careful and worried, and he wants to reassure her immediately that it's okay but.

But.

There, under his fingers, is a painting. He sees himself, smiling, soft and beautiful in the way only Rapunzel paints him. On his left, his mother stands, a happier expression than the one on the only painting left of her on her face, her hand on Eugene's shoulder, looking so alive and present that tears spring up to his eyes. And then, on his right…

He realises, while he looks at his father's peaceful expression, that it's the first time in weeks he has thought of his dad as he was in life, instead of the dying man he had been at the end. His skin is pale, but healthily so, no traces of fever on his cheeks. His smile is wide like it often was when Eugene told a bad joke, and his eyes are aware and full of joy. He's touching Eugene's shoulder too, in the painting, and on his bed Eugene can almost feel it - that weight on him, neither stiff nor cold.

"I thought… I thought you'd like having a picture with all three of you," Rapunzel says, and he doesn't have to watch to know she's playing absently with her hair, nervous.

Eugene is careful not to crumble the picture like his heart is, putting it down as he desperately reaches for Rapunzel - and she's here, immediately, even if he's crying again and making a mess and holding her so tight he's afraid to hurt her.

"I love it," he says again and again, mixed with thank you and I love you and I'm sorry. She holds him and whispers that she loves him too, again and again.

Weeks will turn into months will turn into years. The picture will stay on his bedside table, always.

(Things do change, and because they change, they heal.)

[sleepybutwriting]

Surprise? | Kusuo Saiki x Reader

_____

Pairing: Kusuo Saiki x Reader

Summary: Your psychic boyfriend misinterprets your actions, and thinks your planning on breaking up with him.

Notes: The italicized text is Kusuo’s inner thoughts. Just so you know.

_____

Did I do something wrong?

What could I have done?

Why are you avoiding me?

These constant thoughts were plaguing your boyfriend’s head like some sort of incurable disease. You were avoiding him, and he had no idea why. At first, he thought you were just having a bad day. You had come to school and completely ignored him, trying your best to evade him, in any way you could. 

He just assumed you were focusing and getting in the zone for the test you had all taken that day, but when he went to your desk to hold your bag so you could walk home together like you usually did. You just snatched your bag before he could and shouted “I can go home by myself, today,” and took off. That’s when he realized it was all intentional.

The next day, he tried to talk to you, but again, you ignored him. So when you were in class he took a peek into your head to see what was going on, but he just confused himself even more. Your thoughts were completely spastic, jumping from one thing to the other. 

‘Okay. What’s 234 multiplied by 12? Ugh, no, that’s too hard. I have to pick one I can actually solve. Oh god. He’s looking at me. What do I do? Quick, what’s pi? 3.141...3?..I’m pretty sure there was a 7 in there somewhere. Oh no. Why didn’t I pay more attention in math class? Too late! Run and hide in the bathroom.’

As you took off down the hallway, he just continued sitting there stunned. You were trying to distract yourself from thinking something. Something you didn’t want him finding out about. And suddenly it came to him.

You’re planning on breaking up with me.

It was the only logical explanation. So the question was when did it all go wrong? What did he do to upset you that made you angry enough to want to break up with him?

He thought back trying to figure it out. You had come over to his house over the weekend. The two of you studying together and enjoying each other’s company. It was going well. He didn’t notice any changes in your mood then...until. That’s right. The two of you had shared a cup of coffee jelly, and after you had returned it downstairs, you had come up acting strange. When it was time for you to go home, he went to grab a coat to walk you. but you had insisted that you didn’t need him too and walked off without him before he could protest.

That didn’t help him at all. Was it something that his parents said? Did they scare you off? That couldn’t be right. If you didn’t get scared off when he told you about his psychic abilities then what would scare you off now? Now his head was hurting. The beating in his skull, distracting him, so he didn’t even notice when you came up to him.

“Hey, Saiki. Wanna study at my house?” You questioned breaking him out of his trance. 

Was this it? Were you going to invite me over to ‘study’ but then end up breaking up with me?

He wanted to make an excuse. Maybe if he postponed your breakup, then he would be able to win you back over before you got the chance. But he knew that was wishful thinking. If you didn’t like him now, what good would a few extra days give him?

The walk to your house was silent. Every time he peaked in your mind it was the same thing. Nothing but you trying to solve random math problems. When the two of you arrived at your house, he refused to play into this any longer. Not wanting to step foot in your house.

“Saiki, will you please just come inside?” You begged.

“No. If you’re gonna break up with me just do it now. I’m not here to waste time.”

“Break up with you what? I’m not gonna break up with you.”

“You’re not?” He asked, with a tone a voice that said he didn’t quite believe you.

“Will you please just open the door?” You shouted, your frustrations rising. Unable to hold it in much longer. Your boyfriend cautiously opened your door, eyes widening, caught off guard by what he saw inside.

“Surprise!” You shouted as he walked through the front door. Your house was completely decorated with streamers, coffee jelly snack cups, a banner, balloons, and all other birthday necessities. “Are you surprised? Your mom told me your birthday was coming up. So I thought since you never had a surprise party, this would be a good gift for you. Technically, it’s not just a surprise for you. I couldn’t tell anyone else either because I figured it would slip out if you read their minds. So everyone is coming over, but they don’t know it’s a party, so don’t expect any gifts. They should be here soon though.”

“...surprise? I-is this why you’ve been acting so weird and distant? And doing random math problems in your head?” he questioned, obviously stunned.

“Yeah. I figured it was a good way to distract myself, and not accidentally tell you what was happening. I thought I was being more subtle, but it looks like I gave you the wrong impression.” You explained, rubbing the back of your head sheepishly. “Look, Saiki. I don’t want to break up with you. I care about you. Plus, hate to break it to you, but you’re stuck with me.” You laughed, “Never have I worked so hard trying to pull something off. Do you know how hard it is to not think something? But it was worth it. After all, you got your first surprise party.”

A surprise party. He’s never had one of these before. It felt weird...but nice. But not as nice as the relief he now felt knowing that you weren’t going to break up with him. Having you as his girlfriend was all he really needed.

Oh god. When did I become so corny?

[thiswasinevitableid]

Pleasant Surprise (Indruck Superhero AU)

A little fic I’ve had bouncing around my head for awhile, set in the universe of “The Thrilling Adventures of the Green Knight.”  It takes place after that story, and after the events of the small fics “Aww, Rats” and “Back in Time”. You can read it as a standalone, but it does contain some spoilers for main fic.

“You know how you always say communication is important in a relationship?” Indrid drums his fingers on the arm of the couch. 

Dr. Mwangi nods, the chain on her glasses glinting in the soothing lights of her office.

“I...there is something I am not sure how to communicate to Duck. I, it’s something I’ve been dishonest about. I” Indrid takes a deep breath, “I lied about the date of my birthday.”

Dr. Mwangi doesn’t so much as cock an eyebrow, much like she managed not to gasp in horror when he told her what his training regime involved when he was learning to be a villain. Indrid’s going theory is that this self-control is his therapist's super power. 

“Do you want to spend part of our session today figuring out how you’d like to talk with him about this?”

Indrid fidgets with his glasses, “Yes, please.”

-------------------------------------------------------------

Duck comes home to one of his favorite scenes; Indrid sitting with his easel in front of the rat run. His boyfriend decided he needed to cultivate his artistic streak, so that one part of his life would not involve superheroing or villainy in any capacity. From the look of it, he’s still on the theme of inserting the rats into still-lifes of different styles. 

Duck loves watching him paint, in a way at once connected to and completely different from the attraction he feels observing the other man train in the hideout or dig himself into engineering a new invention. There’s the same cleverness in his hands, the same concentration lining his face. But there’s an innocence that’s absent other places, a kind of happiness that only exists in activities untouched by his past.

“Hello, chivalrous one.” Indrid murmurs as Duck comes to drape his arms over his sweater clad shoulders.

“Hey sugar. I like the new paintin’--is that Dr. Harris Bonkers?”

“Indeed.” Indrid turns his head, his grin as bright as the streetlights flickering to life outside, “The fuzzy medical practitioner in the style of Seurat. I foresee Aubrey liking it as a Christmas gift, and I wanted to do it while the inspiration was still fresh.”

“Bet she’ll get a kick outta it.” Duck kisses the top of his head, then starts removing his work clothes, “you had dinner? Thought I might reheat some pizza.”

“I ordered us dinner, it should arrive within ten to fifteen minutes, depending on whether this is the broken stoplight timeline.” Indrid sets his brushes aside, stands so he can follow Duck down the hall to the bedroom.

“Thanks for doin’ that.”

“There is, ah, something I wish to discuss before it arrives.”

Duck turns and his heart twinges. Back when Indrid was his nemesis, Duck learned to read his emotions, a skill that eluded everyone else. He can tell when Indrid is nervous and, most often, when Indrid is nervous and doing everything he can to hide it.

“What’s on your mind?” He takes a soft step towards the other man, who goes very still as he summons his next words. 

“Do you remember what I told you about my birthday?”

“That it was in the spring and you’d let me know when we were gettin close to it. Wait, fuck, you never did, not this year or last year. Then again, last year was when the White Star boys kept tryin to fuck everythin up, think a lot of stuff got missed. Do you, uh, wanna do a birthday observed or somethin? Could even get a little goofy and do a half-birthday.”

Indrid shakes his head vehemently, “No. That is not it. I, I ah, I lied. My birthday is not in spring. And before you ask ‘when is it,’ the answer is I have no idea. We never celebrated birthdays. I only know my age because my father unleashed my brother and myself upon the world some time after I, or rather we, turned eighteen.” Indrid tucks his hands into the pockets of his sweater, “that is all I wish to say.”

It would be easy to giggle at his serious tone. 

Duck pulls Indrid into a hug, “Thanks for tellin me. Do you want help tryin to work out when it really is?”

“I...I do not know. I was simply tired of such a small lie weighing me down.”

“Okay. You wanna cuddle until dinner?”

“Of cour--oh damn it all.” Indrid steps back, pulling off his sweater, “Baron Thorne is going to try and hold an entire dormitory of students hostage in forty-five minutes.”

“More than a two hero job?”

Indrid tips his head back, then replies, “it’ll go best with for. I shall alert Barclay and Aubrey.”

“Roger. I’ll get the car.”

---------------------------------------------------------

Duck’s researching potential plants for Dani to modify into non-lethal weapons when the secure elevator dings open and Agent Stern hurries out, looking a kind of excited he hasn’t seen since Barclay’s parents landed their ship to meet their son’s new boyfriend. 

“Gettin the feelin you got good news for me.”

“I do.” Joe pulls out his datapad, “I went through the files we confiscated from Abbadon to find the one on Indrid. It did indeed have his birth date, and you are not going to believe what it is.”

Duck looks at the little boxes of letters and numbers beneath the photo of a much younger Indrid with a much crueler smile. 

“No fuckin way.”

“I know right?” Joe grins, “ I think he’ll get a kick out of that.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“My birthday is on Halloween?”

“Yeah!” Duck looks so happy that for a moment the emotion carries Indrid as well. 

“That is rather fitting. It’s always been my favorite holiday.” He can see it now; little orange lights, a black tablecloth, some cake.

“And it’s three weeks away, so we still got time to plan somethin to mark the day. I was thinkin we could have it Friday, since Halloween is a Saturday and I know at least Barclay and Dani got things they do every Halloween. How’s that sound?”

He isn’t sure. Something circles up from the deep, animal part of his mind, but he can’t name it and so does his best to ignore it. 

“It sounds wonderful.”

--------------------------------------------------------

Indrid cannot escape. Everywhere he turns there are birthdays; on the T.V, in the restaurants he and Duck go to, on cards and balloons when he’s getting groceries 

It’s your big day!

“You don’t turn thirteen everyday”

To my son, on his eighteenth birthday

“To my brother, my favorite partner in crime”

“This week on ‘My Neighbor’s a Werewolf,’ Jamie throws Max a surprise party, and gets a big surprise of his own.” 

When that one flickers across the screen, Indrid clicks the T.V off with a little hiss. He’s tense, feels like the embodiment of the moment a knife-tip meets skin; resistance and resignation in the instant before it all comes pouring out. 

“You got a cake preference?” Duck rests his hand on the couch near Indrid’s shoulder, tone light as he continues, “know you like really sweet stuff, I could get mom’s hummingbird cake recipe from Jane-”

“Whatever you think best.” Indrid flexes and coils his fingers.

“‘Drid, it’s your party, you get to mark the occasion however you want.

“And what if I do not wish to mark it at all?”

“Uh…” Duck clears his throat, “uh, that’s fine too.”

Indrid turns his head to see the expression he knew would be there. 

“That upsets you.”

“N-uh, fuck, I uh, it don’t uh-”

“Duck, please do me the courtesy of not drawing out the lie.”

Ducks shoulders sag, “Guess I’m a little disappointed. I, uh, I was havin fun plannin it with you. Thought I could make up for all the times you didn’t have one.”

“Well, you can’t.” Indrid snaps, stands more dramatically than he means to. He just wants this to be over, wants to stop seeing the memories he thought he’d properly laid to rest, “you cannot make up for what I saw, what was done to me, what I did.”

“I-”

Indrid holds up his hand, “I know you see it as your job to remove all traces of my tragic past that you can.”

“Hold the fuck on.” Duck shakes his head, “Is that what you think I’m doin? ‘Drid, it’s just a party. If you don’t want it you don’t want it, but don’t fuckin pretend this is some indicator of us as a pair.”

“Oh but it is.” Indrid feels his lips curl into an old smile, “you get to play the nice, normal hero making everything better, while all I am is someone to pity, broken long before you ever met me!”

Duck goes still, and in his visions he sees the rats finishing skittering to the far side of Ratopia. It’s at this moment he realizes he’s been yelling. 

“I…I am going to bed. Goodnight.” He hurries down the hall, only bothering to change his pants before crawling under the covers. In most futures, Duck follows him and demands they finish their argument, leading to a far larger fight. But the hero doesn’t come. This gives Indrid time to get his breathing and heart rate back to normal, to try and work out why the thought of his loved ones gathering to celebrate his birth makes him want to disappear into the night. 

He’s not quite asleep when Duck comes in. He’s not quite ready to apologize. As he’s contemplating his options, his boyfriend slips under the sheet and lays in such a way that his right hand is inches from Indrid’s own. 

Without opening his eyes, Indrid slides his fingers across Duck’s palm. Duck shifts to interlink their fingers, and closes his hand. 

Indrid wakes up five hours later in two discrete stages. The first is coming out of the nightmare, of his body registering the need to move, to hide, before his brain is fully back to the present. The second is waking up enough to wonder why he always hides in the closet after these dreams; he didn’t have a closet growing up. 

He creeps into the living room, hoping he hasn’t woken Duck. He has woken Chicken, who decides it’s close enough to her breakfast time to yowl at him until he feeds her. While she crunches her cat food, he opens one of the doors to Ratopia. The mischief is mostly asleep, but at  the sound Void rouses from his spot atop Mallard and scurries over to Indrid’s hands. 

“You forgive so easily.” Indrid murmurs, cupping him in one hand and closing the cage with the other, “or perhaps you just forget with much greater skill than I.”

He knows when Duck is behind him. Without turning, he sets Void on his shoulder and says, “I think I know why I have been so unpleasant tonight. I...I have only ever marked two changes in age; being old enough to face the trials of my order and being sent out to cut down those who dared oppose us. My ‘birthday’ is a harbinger of suffering and death. And I, I know that is not the real truth, but it is the one my body believes, the one my mind has been bracing for without me fully understanding that’s what it is doing. I did not mean to take that fear out on you.”

“‘Drid” Duck’s voice is scratchy with sleep, but when Indrid turns his eyes are alert, “I’m so fuckin sorry. It, uh, it didn’t occur to me that your birthday would be wrapped up so tightly with the shit you went through as a kid. I never meant to push you into somethin you didn’t want.”

“But I do want it!” Indrid shoves his hands into his hair, “I want to have dinner with our friends, to get gifts, to enjoy a thing that millions of people partake in every day. And I am so, so very angry that I cannot, that instead I am dealing with all of this.” He gestures vaguely to himself, then looks at Duck, his body registering safe as the hero joins him by the rat run. When Duck opens his arms, Indrid nestles into them without hesitation. 

“Whatever you decide on, that’s what we’ll do.” 

Indrid hums, snickers when Void clambers onto Duck to tickle his cheek with his whiskers. After the shadows of the past recede in the warmth of Duck’s embrace, Indrid whispers, “I would like to have the party. I would like to help you plan it. But I...I would like a few of the details to still be surprises for me. It might be nice for my birthday to bring me a pleasant one for once.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Oooh, this looks so cool!” Aubrey sets a gift on the table as she admires the mothman string lights, banners, and balloons, “dang, Duck, didn’t know you had a decorator streak.”

“Don’t get a chance to flex it much. And it’s kinda easy when the theme is so specific.”

“I’m trying to compliment you, doofus.” Aubrey playfully whacks his arm, then squeals, “honey, look, rats in hats!”

“Awww” Dani joins her to regard the mischief in their tiny party hats (only Mallard is still wearing his, the others in various states of tossing them about), “Indrid, did you make these?”

“Indeed, though Barclay made these.” He slides the enclosure open and sets five rat-sized cupcakes on the floor, “which is wonderful, because I did not want them to feel left out. They’re getting them earlier than the rest of us because Barclay is looking for ways to keep me out of the kitchen.”

“It’s your birthday, that means letting someone else cook!” Barclay calls from the kitchen.

“But I modified the blender and the mixer to be self-operating!”

“Wait, what?” Is all they hear before Barclay is drowned out by whirring. 

“Should we help him?” Dani says through their laughter.

“He’s a professional, he’ll be fine.” Joseph steps from the kitchen, his casual wear of jeans and a Loch Ness Monster dress shirt still somewhat jarring to the former villain who only ever saw him in suits, “Aubrey, Dani, can I get you anything to drink?”

“Yes please. Okay doctor, time to play.” Aubrey opens the special hatch in Ratopia and deposits the rabbit, who settles in to be groomed by his smaller friends. 

Dinner is fancy macaroni and cheese and fruit salad, Indrid’s favorites. As Ned regales the table with his latest misadventures in fixing up his new van (“I was unaware an owl could nest in a seat cushion”) Indrid glances at the entryway. 

“Everythin okay?” Duck whispers.

“Yes. I, ah, I simply did not expect so many gifts. I know it’s customary to receive them but I thought you got one or two. Not that everyone brought them.”

“You wanna open them?”

Indrid nods, grinning, “very much so.”

He takes care not to peek at the futures when unwrapping them, wanting to preserve the excitement as long as possible. Aubrey gives him a six pound bag of Lucky Charm marshmallows, Dani sneaks out to the car and returns with a potted plant (“I modified it so that the blossoms will be extra attractive to moths”). Ned gifts him a signed, limited run poster from Red Dust on His Soul, Joseph and Barclay a stack of new romance novels (“I think you’ll like Agent X, it’s a mystery series but he romances quite a few characters in them”). Mama sent a package from West Virginia that contains a small, wooden duck she carved herself and made especially smooth so it would be soothing to rub). And Lydia Little, AKA Sylvia Cold, presents him with a mug declaring him “Favorite Brother.” 

Duck’s present is the last one he opens. Waiting for him in the rectangular box is a white shirt with “World’s Greatest Rat Dad” on the front. The back is covered in squiggle-scratches of five different colors, which Duck explains are signatures from the mischief made in rat-safe fabric paint. 

“It’s perfect.”  Indrid sighs, kisses his boyfriend and then beams at his friends, “it is time for cake.”

They dim the lights, sing to him as Barclay emerges from the kitchen with a massive, mothman shaped cake with lots of candles. To his delight and surprise, the inside is layers of pink and yellow, flavored with strawberry and vanilla. He eats far more than is perhaps wise, but it is his birthday and it is his understanding that such things are allowed.

His guests linger for a few hours more, Aubrey and Dani the last to leave with a reminder to put the plant on the balcony. Indrid waves goodbye, closes the door and arms the security to full. He turns back into the house, sees the cards and gifts his friends put so much thought into locating for him, the stray dishes and half-empty glasses that signify they were here. For him. Because they wanted to be, because they care about him.

“‘Drid? You want any more cake before I put it aw--oh fuck, sugar, what’s wrong.”

“Nothing” he sniffles, grins, “these are tears of happiness. I, ah, I hurried us into cake because I felt them upon me when I opened the gifts. It will take some time yet for me to be willing to show such feelings around our friends.” He wipes his eyes, “thank you, my love, for arranging this.”

“Any time, darlin.”

He smiles, “Have I mentioned lately that you are my hero?”

“Pretty sure you called me that this mornin. But I sure as hell don’t mind hearin it again.”

------------------------------------------------------------------

“What is this?” His brother scowls up from the paper plate Indrid passed to him through the complex delivery system keeping his cell from the world around it.

“Cake. Today is our birthday. Did you know that?”

“Who cares for such frivolous things, little brother?”

“Those of us who do not spend our lives steeped in the misery of others, twin brother. If you do not want it, give it back and I shall share it with one of the guards.”

Apollo looks at the cake. Then he kneels on the floor, tearing into it with his hands. He doesn’t eat it what he destroys, and after a moment Indrid grasps why.

“Did you really think I hid some device to help you escape in there?”

“Yes.” His brother is now trying to light stab the cake with his gaze. 

Indrid rubs his forehead, “Perhaps some day you will learn to see things for how they are, not how you believe them to be.” He starts for the door, looks over his shoulder and says softly, “happy birthday, Apollo.”

A slam as his brother strikes the see-through front of his cell, “Get back here this instant you worthless, traitorous, coward!”

The door slides open and Indrid steps into the hall. Joseph is waiting for him, drops his eyes from the security feed to the man in front of him, “what a waste of Barclay’s cooking.”

“Agreed.”

A gentle pat on his shoulder, “You tried, that counts for a lot. Now go enjoy your night.”

“And my knight?”

“Him too.” Joseph waves goodbye, then adds, “and happy birthday!”

Indrid gets home before the city trick or treating hours begin; he’s feeling rather good, all things considered, and Halloween is so beloved by villains that the odds of his evening being interrupted by work are almost none. 

Duck is on the porch lighting their Jack ‘O Lanterns, grinning brighter than all the candles and lights on the block combined when Indrid walks up the steps to join him. He sees in the futures that he’s made him a special, Halloween themed birthday dinner. 

He pulls Duck into a hug, kissing the top of his head with happy sighs, thanking whatever twist of fate pushed him into the arms of the man who was, in many ways, his first-ever pleasant surprise.

[fritae]

The Missing Piece (Chapter 8)

Anxiety.

gang! au / ceo! au

characters: dabi x female oc, lov, other original characters

status: ongoing

read on ao3 here.

I'm sure Mr. Lane has seen me.

With a groan, I take Dabi aside.

"You can go ahead, sir." I tell him quickly, glancing behind me to see if they're watching me.

Dabi looks over my shoulder.

"Is that what's-his-face?"

I shoot Dabi a look and gesture toward Aliyah. We may be friends but I didn't tell her the real reason I left NNTV. She thinks work became too stressful and I needed a break.

She doesn't know about the argument me and Mr. Lane had after I discovered his support of the Todorokis. Or about his cutting my salary and threatening to fire me.

Besides, bad mouthing a former employer is horrible professionalism.

"It's Mr. Lane. Go, go," I try shoo-ing him away. "I'll see you tomorrow sir."

But Dabi doesn't budge.

His eyes are trained on mine.

"I don't like that look on your face."

I groan. "What look? Sir it's just-"

"Like you're uncomfortable."

The comment catches me off guard and I quickly avert my gaze.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," I say quietly. "These are my friends."

But that only seems to make him more determined. Dabi turns to face me completely, his feet firmly planted in the ground and his hands tucked coolly in the pockets of his pants. He doesn't look interested in listening right now.

"What are you worried about?" He asks. "Is it him?"

I run an anguished hand through my hair. "Sir please. Please. What happened to not asking about our private matters?"

I don't want Dabi and Mr. Lane meeting. Especially considering how our last conversation went. I didn't tell Mr. Lane I was working for the Blaze, and considering how salty he was that I left after all these years, facing him once again fills me with anxiety.

"Alright I won't ask you," Dabi ignores me. "I'll find out from him."

My eyes widen and I pull him back before he could make his way toward Mr. Lane. Aliyah went to bring Mr. Lane to say hi. I feel my chest get tighter when I see him getting closer.

"See? I don't like that." Dabi eyes me with concern. He tsks and pulls a box from his back pocket. He tries to hand me a cigarette but I shake my head quickly.

Mr. Lane doesn't know I smoke.

And with the amount of anxiety pooling in my gut, it wouldn't even help.

Dabi shrugs, no longer facing me.

"I'm here," He says. The ice in his voice from earlier is gone. I look at him once more before Mr. Lane gets within earshot.

He gives me a small nod and reaches for me, his hand brushing against the small of my back in a way that sends electricity up my spine. "He's not your boss anymore. He has no power over you."

I nod and plaster a fake smile on my face as the short man approaches us.

I hope it's enough to hide my thundering heart.

"Ms. Aoki," His voice sounds as insufferable as ever. "Fancy meeting you here."

I nod my head in respect. "Mr. Lane. It's nice to see you so soon."

As if!

But already, his attention is off of me. Instead, he eyes Dabi up and down.

"Is this your partner?" He asks.

My face heats up immediately. "Oh - no sir. This is my, um - my new boss. Mr. Dabi?"

Just as I expected, Mr. Lane's expression darkens immediately.

I expect Dabi to extend a hand out for formalities. But his hands remains in his pockets. He merely gives him a nod in acknowledgement.

"So you've found a new company after all." Mr. Lane comments coldly.

"Yes. Yes sir."

"What's the name of your company, Mr. Dabi?"

"The Blaze." Dabi says. "I do luxury trading. Rina told me she previously worked for a broadcasting company - what was it called again?"

Mr. Lane's face hardens. "NNTV. We're a leading force in the industry-"

"Right, right. That company that always underperforms?" He asks apologetically.

Me and Aliyah gasp, glancing cautiously at Mr. Lane.

"I have a friend that works at CBS, you see."

There's a smile on Dabi's face.

"I haven't even heard of your company," Mr. Lane quickly counters, evil in his eyes. "When Ms. Aoki abandoned us in such a manner, I assumed she'd join a better known business."

"I'm not surprised you haven't heard of us," Dabi sighs, that same mocking tone in his voice. "You see, we cater to a highly exclusive audience."

Aliyah mouth drops behind Mr. Lane, looking extremely amused. I wouldn't be surprised if this becomes the subject of tomorrow's lunchtime gossip.

"I see," Mr. Lane smiles at Dabi but it is anything but friendly. "Anyway. Careful with this one." He tells Dabi. "She's loyal to the - " He rubs his fingers to his thumb to indicate money. "It doesn't matter how well you treat her, if she finds a better offer she'll run off on you. Looking at you now," Mr. Lane sizes him up. "it probably won't take long."

I didn't leave because of money you piece of shit! If you actually saw me as a person, you'd know that!

I feel Aliyah's eyes on me in surprise.

Great.

Now she thinks I'm making more money and keeping things from her.

I don't face her.

"Hm," Dabi says. "What do you define as a better offer? Because we certainly don't pay-"

Don't say that! I think frantically.

I clear my throat.

Dabi looks at me quizzically. But he understands soon enough.

"...her what she's worth. With how well she's driven up sales this past month, she certainly deserves every penny."

"With all due respect," Mr. Lane smiles apologetically, venom lacing his words. "A secretary who intervenes in your business, gives unsolicited advice, and tries to control decision making is not worth her price. There are many other qualified secretaries who will drive up sales, and do it better than she can."

I feel my heart fall.

Of course he would say that.

Mr. Lane thinks of me as disloyal now. Leaving NNTV so suddenly after all these years, I knew it would matter more to him than he let on during our last meeting.

He doesn't exactly tolerate betrayal. And being his secretary for so long, I've seen how he treats former employees enough to know how vicious he can be.

That's why I didn't want him and Dabi to meet.

My face reddens immensely at the mention of my frequent "interventions" and "unsolicited advice". Because Mr. Lane doesn't believe in teams, he believes in workers who do as they're told. That's it.

But considering how much Dabi cares about his space, the comment fills me with anxiety.

Especially given the conversation we had today.

Will he think this is a pattern now? Will it drive him further away from me - cause his lack of trust in me to balloon even more?

There's an uncomfortable feeling in my gut as my mind questions all these possibilities. I wish Aliyah hadn't seen me.

No.

I wish I just told Dabi I was busy when he asked me for dinner. I hesitantly glance at him, searching for any indication of how he's receiving this.

There's embarrassment written all over my face.

However, Dabi's expression doesn't change. He remains aloof.

Although on closer inspection, I think I see his jaw clench.

I feel my eyes water. Is he angry with me?

He should be.

Perhaps I am too talkative and opinionated for a secretary.

But Dabi's response makes me furrow my brows in confusion.

"She was a member of your team. Of course she would advise you. And intervene as necessary."

My eyes widen.

"It's as much her company as it is mine, so I do hope she does more of that for us in the future."

I look at Dabi in surprise, trying to figure him out. Doesn't he hate it when people intervene in his business though? Is he just saying this in front of Mr. Lane?

That's gotta be it.

Regardless, I'm grateful that he hasn't thrown me under the bus, using me as conversation material. Anyone else would happily listen and even share their own criticism of me to keep the conversation going. Especially considering Mr. Lane is realistically the more powerful CEO of the two. Anyone would say anything to get on his good side.

And part of me feels like Mr. Lane used me in order to shift to Dabi's good side too. After all, what manager doesn't love critiquing his employees?

Only Dabi didn't take the bait.

"I suppose I should thank you actually," Dabi continues, the height difference only further emphasizing the power imbalance in the conversation. Mr. Lane looks small for the first time ever, as he stands there looking up at Dabi. "If you hadn't let her go, our company wouldn't be in the place it is today. She's extremely capable, as you know. And such an agreeable team player, as well."

But instead of responding, Mr. Lane focuses on me with those murderous eyes.

As if it's my fault he was humiliated tonight.

How dare I go on to build up someone else's company. How dare I not cry and beg him to take me back, that I was sorry and have learned from my mistake. That I would never challenge his decisions again and be the loyal, silent employee he expects me to be.

I shrink under his stare, and before I know it, Dabi's hand is once again on my back.

He has no power over you.

I take a deep breath. "Unfortunately, Mr. Dabi has a prior engagement and we don't want to be late." I tell Mr. Lane. "But thank you for coming over personally to say hello. Hopefully, an opportunity for us to meet again arises in the future."

Mr. Lane nods coldly and walks away. He didn't even shake our hands before he left. Aliyah smiles at us apologetically and comes to hug me once again.

"He's a good man," She whispers in my ear. When she pulls away, she gives me a sly wink and my face reddens. She shakes Dabi's hand before she hurries behind Mr. Lane to the outdoor seating area where the rest of NNTV's administration and senior employees lounge.

And Dabi and I are alone once again.

[elentary]

Black as the devil, pure as an angel

Happy 31st Good Omens anniversary! (i’m late as usual)

A little story about Aziraphale and Crowley popped up in my head and I tried to write it down. 

This is my first story and my first language is not English (so don’t expect a masterpiece out of this): any correction or comment will be appreciated!

(All material related to Good Omens is the property of Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett.)

Black as the devil, pure as an angel

London, Monday, 10th May 2021

"Hey, this is Antony Crowley, you know what to do, do it with style"

-biiiiiiip-

"Ah, hello, it's me… ...Aziraphale! Well, ehm, it's been a while since we spoke and I suppose you're still sleeping in this moment because you aren't answering the phone. I just hope you aren't sleeping on the ceiling or on the walls: I'm pretty confident to say that's not comfortable for your backbone and I know for sure you have a perfect soft bed in your room. Also, last time I saw you up there, I almost had a heart-attack and I'd like to avoid it, even if I'm sure I can't die of that since I'm not human, but… ...oh, I wandered off too much with this!

Ehm, I called to inform you that lately the situation here in London seems to have improved and, since some restrictions have been lifted, I thought we could maybe meet again when you'll wake up: my bookshop will be open just for you at every hour! 

 Oh, don't worry if you'll be a bit sleepy: I'll prepare my special qahwah (kahve/caffè) in a jiffy! Well, it's not so special, it's just an old recipe I learnt because… ...oh, not that, it's a secr…. ehm, it's not important at all!

I… I… hope to see you soon, my chuck-… my dear!"

Aziraphale hung up the phone and started fidgeting with his golden ring almost immediately: "I shouldn't have called him: it didn't go how I planned", he muttered to himself. Unsurprising, the phrase "it went down like a lead balloon" popped up immediately in his head.

He had been rehearsing the call for ten days, preparing himself for every possible scenario, but in the end he went completely off-script after a few words, letting his emotions spill too much in his tone. 

But what worried him the most was the moment he let slip the words "old recipe" from his mouth: not for the recipe per se, but because of the little secret behind it. 

"I'm quite sure - he said out loud using a hopeful tone to calm himself - I was able to stop in time, thanks goodness! I’m sure that he won't ask anything even if Crowley notices something, because he'll think there is just a boring story behind it".

While he was heading for the kitchenette to make a cup of tea (there is no problem that couldn't be fixed with a good cuppa), he halted midway and wondered: "Why did I call coffee in that ancient way?"

The reason for that ancient name was very old, pretty much as old as Aziraphale's secret: a little more than four hundred years old.

Venice, 1596

"...and just a cup of qahwah for me" said a guest all clad in black who was slouching on a chair in the most luxurious house of the city. 

The young waiter who was taking the order, looked at him a bit perplexed for the last order. 

"Right, that was Arabic" chuckled Crowley "bring me some kahve or whatever is called here".

"Oh, caffè, here it’s called caffè here, Siór!” [1] , said the young one, ”How much sugar would you like in your cup?” added hasty at the demon's expression.

“I'll have Sade kahve but with a bit of cardamom. Remember to grind finely the beans”.

The waiter was still lost but the other guest at the table helped him with a smile: "He doesn't want any sugar in his caffè, dear" 

“I'll bring everything as soon as possible" said the young man and, after bowing a little, he headed for the counter.

Aziraphale was a bit surprised by what just happened: "It seems you are the meticulous one today: I have almost never seen you so specific with your food or drink order, unless alcohol was involved". He also added: "I just hope you didn't want to mess with the poor waiter".

No, angel, I didn't pull a prank. I have been drinking coffee for a while: but since my last mission in Malta [2] I have been loving it: Altan was the best at making it, but he went to Rome", Crowley said with a sigh.

"The funniest thing - he continued, smiling - is that I was lured to that because I thought it was an alcoholic drink since they called it qahwah, that also means wine. At first I was a bit disappointed but later I discovered it helps to stay awake during boring stuff: it did wonder with every task Hell gives me."

"I tasted some qahwah some times ago but it was too energetic for me… but maybe I should try it to deal with Gabr… ehm, with tedious tasks". Crowley politely didn't mention Aziraphale's little slip but smiled a bit inside.

When the order arrived the angel observed how his partner smelled and tasted happily the concoction humming approvingly: 

"I didn't think you were a coffee connoisseur" Aziraphale joked. 

"It's not so bad for someone with so little experience: you should try it sometimes. If you're done with your food, let's organize our Arrangement. For my report…"

They discussed their work for a couple of hours, drinking coffee. Aziraphale tasted it too (a lot sweeter than the demon) but in the end he still preferred his tea. The angel, however, decided he'd propose another place with coffee, since Crowley enjoyed that drink so much.

Milan, Four years later

"Why can't I have a cup of coffee?" Sulked a very crossed demon who was missing a couple of years of sleep due hellish work. "Lent was over 2 month ago, wasn't it?"

The owner of the shop was distraught: "The priest told us that is not proper now, Sir: the Infidels are using it and - he started whispering - it seems that's a Devil's plant". 

"I'm pretty sure that the Devil wasn't involved in any botanical project, even before Falling, and he has never tried any coffee. Instead, if you are speaking about demons, I am the onl-"

"Why don't we order wine instead this time?" Interrupted quickly Aziraphale before Crowley could say something more compromising. The unhappy demon agreed begrudgingly so several bottles of red wine were shared among them. 

"I'm sorry for your coffee, Crowley. It seems idiotic banning a plant just because somebody else has it".

"Well, they copied the idea from the Boss: God was the first to ban a plant, you and I should remember that easily" Crowley snickered.

Aziraphale started blushing and his cheeks soon were as red as that famous fruit: "ah, it… i-it wasn't just a normal fruit and that was part of God's plan…  I suppose.". That phrase was just commented by the demon with a bemused expression.

"So, Crowley, what are you going to do with this? Are you going to tempt a lot of people to drink coffee?"

"Nah, I'm already too busy with Hell's job at the moment. It would be too troublesome to convince people and especially priests: those at top are the worst."

I'm sure I'll miss the ability of coffee to transform random thoughts into ingenious ideas: humans were experts at using that!" The demon slouched sadly on the chair.

Aziraphale would have missed the improved human genius too but, in his opinion, would have regretted more not seeing his demon's smile but he said nothing. He instead started thinking if there was something he could do and soon became lost in his thoughts.

"...anything there?"

"Sorry, what was that?" 

"I told you I'll go back to Spain tomorrow for a temptation: do you need anything there?" 

"Oh, nothing special, just the usual [3] we can share and those books, if you could be so courteous." Aziraphale happily answered, giving him a neat written list.

"Are you going to stay here long, angel?"

"Oh, no, I'm departing for Rome the day after tomorrow… … I know you don't like it because of the absurd amount of consecrated ground there, you don't need to make a face each time I mention it"

"And every pope makes the problem worse." 

The angel assumed a grim expression: "I have to meet pope Clement VIII for the closing ceremony of the Jubilee"

"You don't seems pleased" 

"The Archangels, especially Sandalphon, think highly of him, but I don't… appreciate him, especially after he burned at the stake messer Giordano Bruno and other poor humans."

Crowley liked discussing the stars and the universe with Giordano: he tried to warn the poor man but he was too stubborn to listen.

"May I reciprocate your favour from Spain? Maybe some wine?" Suggested the angel.

"Only if you're sure the bottles are not blessed - Crowley shuddered - I still remember last time I was wrong".

"Are you sure it will be enough?" 

"I'm sure, angel. Let's party now and forget our troubles for now". 

Unfortunately Aziraphale couldn't party happily because he couldn't forget what happened with the cup of coffee and he thought his favour was too small: he decided he should do something about it! 

Luckily the following morning was more propitious and he found a way to repay Crowly for his favour: he'll find a way to lift the ban on coffee.

The only remaining problem was how to do that.

Rome, a week later

Aziraphale was reading the same line of the missive for the third time in a row at his desk: the angel was too distracted because hadn't found a solution for his "problem" yet. 

"I bet I have the solution under my nose but I can't see it" mumbled the angel touching the pope's sigils on the papers.

"Of course, the pope! - he yelled happily - He is the highest authority for the priests: he could convince everybody that drinking coffee is not bad if he tastes it himself".

"I just need to learn how to make the best coffee ever". A name came back to his mind, the name Crowley gave him: Altan. 

Immediately he used a little miracle to locate him that led him to a small cemetery outside the city and on the grave and there were few sweets with a little cup: unfortunately Altan died 10 years before. The angel bowed a little to pay respect. 

A big Turkish man came next to him and inquired "Did you know my father?".

"I didn't but my... acquaintance considered him a genius and was very fond of his qahwa, ehm, kahve. He'll be sad when he'll know he died." 

"I'm Osmanek. May I ask you what brings you here mister...?

"Oh, I'm Aziraphale. I came here to learn how to make the best coffee ever: I hope his art was inherited by you."

"Luckily it was not lost: I loved to help him make coffee. Before revealing my secrets I have a question for you: are you doing this for your… acquaintance?"

Aziraphale nodded: "I'd like to prepare him some coffee he loves, but at the same time I'd love to see everyone have a coffee whenever they fancy, like in your birthplace. To make that possible, however, I have to let somebody else drink your coffee to.. ..to tempt him saying it's not a bad thing: that person is the pope Clement".

The angel knew what he was asking for and couldn't hold the gaze of the man anymore.

"I understand -he continued sadly- if you don't want to help me since I have seen how much that man has been hurting your brothers and sisters…" The angel couldn't say anything else, overpowered by his memories and bowed his head to hide the tears in his eyes: he has seen too many inconceivable deaths in the name of faith

Osmanek observed Aziraphale for a little moment: he was sure there was no lie in his words. "No, - he smiled - I can't leave you after you poured your heart out: I'll help you and your friend to tempt the Pope." 

"Oh, oh, thank you! - and the angel added hastily - But he's not my friend, we barely know each other!"

The man started smiling brighter than ever and guided him to his house.

Immediately after they arrived, Osmanek offered his guest a cup of his special kahve with few sweets. Aziraphale tried just a sip of coffee and he was immediately in love: "Now I know why Crowley likes it so much: it's so scrumptious even without those sweets!"

"I call this Altan kahve in honour of my father: I will teach you how to prepare it for your fr… aquietance but I ask you to not give any of this to the pope. For him, I'll give you another tasty recipe" 

"Oh, I agree with you: the pope doesn't deserve that perfection!" 

Osmanek patiently taught Aziraphale everything he should know: how to roast and grind the beans, how to use the small pot "cezve", the ratio perfect between coffee and water, how to boil and froth the concoction and  which flavours could be used.

In the beginning everything felt so difficult for Aziraphale and he failed a lot. However the angel was very stubborn and, thanks Osmanek's tips and teaching, he was able to make an excellent cup of coffee in a couple of days.

"I hope this will be good enough" mumbled the angel.

"Trust me, it will be too good for the pope", he chuckled. "Now let's see how good you are with Altan's coffee. I'll give you a final tip: imagine you are preparing some coffee for your acquaintance and not me".

"Why…?"

"If I'm right, it will taste better"

Still perplexed and a bit nervous, Aziraphale went into the kitchen and, following the last advice, he prepared meticulously the dark drink, flavouring with cardamom and finally pouring it in two kahve fincanı, a dark one and a light one. The smell seemed quite promising.

Osmanek took the darkest cup and, after smelling the aroma, he tasted it. After a few seconds, he smiled "In my native Country there is a proverb that says the coffee should be black as hell, strong as death, and sweet as love but for your coffee this doesn't sound right". He put the empty fincanı on the table.

"I think - he continued - the Italian expression suit it better" 

"I'm sorry but I don't know it" the angel was starting to worry he messed up something even if the man was smiling fondly.

"Il caffè deve essere caldo come l'inferno, nero come il diavolo, puro come un angelo e dolce come l'amore.". [4]

The angel took his courage and drank his coffee: in his opinion, it wasn't perfect as Osmanek's but it tasted like something Crowley would enjoy and that was the best feeling ever. 

The angel couldn't stop smiling: "Oh, I am so grateful to you! But I don't know how I can repay you for this"

"Your happiness is enough: I'll bring you everything you need".

Aziraphale didn't agree with him so he performed some miracles and blessings. 

Osmanek came back with some coffee beans, flavours and utensils. There were also three kahve fincanı: two were familiar (the dark and the light ones) but the other was new (and very flashy).

"Oh, that's for the pope: I have always hated that cup and I hope it'll break when that man wants coffee most"

"Oh, that cup will do that, I can assure you" the angel promised with a mischief smile.

Aziraphale finally bid farewell, still thanking Osmanek profusely.

Two months later was the time to put the plan in action: the pope was in the library at 2 a.m. and he was getting tired but he had a lot of work to do. Aziraphale approached him: "I may have the right solution for your Excellency: it's a healthy concoction that promotes wakefulness and wonderful ideas. It was discovered b-"

"I don't care, - interrupted the holy man - give me that drink and let's hope it works".

"God gives me strength" whispered under his breath the angel while preparing some coffee that suited the pope's taste.

When the cup of coffee was ready, it was given to Clement VIII: he grabbed it and started drinking absent-mindedly. The smell and the taste were so good that he woke almost immediately. 

"Librarian, what is this?"

"As I was saying, this is coffee" 

"Why has nobody given me this miraculous drink? The taste is divine and it works perfectly!"

"I suppose nobody wanted to offer your Excellency any drink consumed by Muslims. Some people also believe coffee is a Devil's plant. In my op-"

"I don't care: it's too good to be Satan's plant and we mustn't let the infidels have exclusive use of coffee."

Aziraphale was quite happy: it seemed his plan worked out nicely.

"Maybe we could bless the beans or use some holy wate-"

"NO" shouted the angel, emanating some angelic power unconsciously "Please, DON'T". 

For the first time in his life, the pope was scared he felt like a little child in front of a giant warrior.

"Ehm, please - said more calmly Aziraphale - never suggest it again or let somebody do that. Just tell everyone coffee could be drank by anybody".

The pope could only nod affirmatively.

"Right!" 

Now the angel was sure he was successful in his endeavour and soon could have a coffee with Crowley. 

Aziraphale stayed in Rome for another three weeks, just in time to witness a fincanı to break neatly in two, pouring coffee on some important papal documents.

On his journey to London he stopped to Osmanek's house and updated him on what had happened in that time (especially the broken cup).

London, Monday, 10th May 2021, 30 minutes after Aziraphale's call.

In the end Aziraphale made some of his special coffee with his cezve: he was missing Crowley so much.

"What if i woke him up while he just wanted to sleep a bit more?" 

"No, angel, - a familiar voice answered - I want to stay awake with you for a while"

"Crowley" cheered Aziraphale

"Coffee?"

"In a jiffy" and he poured the drink in two old contrasting kahve fincanı.

"So, what's the secret behind this old recipe?" Crowley asked with a mischievous smile.

----------------------Notes----------------------

[1] Siór = mister (venetian dialect)

[2] Malta = Crowley had been at the great siege of Malta in 1565    https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Great_Siege_of_Malta

[3] Usual = local goodies (especially wine and alcohol)

[4] "Il caffè deve essere caldo come l'inferno, nero come il diavolo, puro come un angelo e dolce come l'amore" = "coffee must be hot as hell, black as the devil, pure as an angel and sweet as love"

To write this I took some info from wikipedia about the history of coffee: if you want to learn something more accurate than my story, look here and here.

[sarcasti-cally]

birthday surprise

so, koganegawa’s birthday is today, July 9th, and um.. where’s the love for my boy kogane? i felt like this was the perfect time to give him some love 🥰 ❤️ ❤️ (and to quench my thirst) this is the first time i’m ever writing a fic or even smut in general so please be nice :,) just gonna casually tag @bokutokoutarou since you wanted to be there when i post my first ever fic so here i go. 🚶‍♀️

dom!koganegawa x reader????? woahh

s m u t

words: 3063

Drool was slowly pooling from your mouth as you just woke up, the sun beaming straight into your eyes, causing your eyelashes to flutter and flip your body to face away from the sunlight. Before you could close your eyes again, you reached out for your phone on your pillow and went to check the time, which is a routine you developed without noticing. 

1:53, you noted. But, you immediately stood up and wiped the drool from the corners of your mouth to realize that it was July 9th. Shit. You cursed at yourself in your head while frantically throwing on whatever you saw. 

Black shorts and a baggy t-shirt representing your school, Date Tech. You went to the bathroom to see what you overall really looked like taking into consideration that your hair must have been a bird’s nest from moving a lot in your sleep. 

“Huh.”

You didn’t think the shirt you chose to wear would cover your shorts, but you shrugged it off. Hopefully some idiot doesn’t think that you’re not wearing anything under it. Thankfully, your hair wasn’t all that much of a mess- i mean, it was still a bit frizzy and in a loose ponytail, but who really cares? Definitely not you.

You threw on some white crew socks with some black shoes you saw under your bed. While you struggled a bit to put your shoes on, you heard something coming from your bed. It was your phone vibrating. 

“I swear to god, if it’s some annoying son of a bitch-“ you stood up and tripped since you were trying to put on your other shoe standing up while your foot’s in the air. As you peered over your phone, you saw that it was a notification from Koganegawa and you sighed in relief. 

When you had your shoe on you grabbed your phone and went to go and read what he messaged you.

“Hey, Y/N! I know that you might still be asleep, but i wanted to let you know that i’m having a birthday party which starts at around 4, and that you’re invited! I can’t wait to see you there. Even though it’ll be a small little party, i think you’ll REALLY enjoy it. Aone, Kaname, Futakuchi, and Sakunami will be there. I hope to see you there soon!” sent at 11:27 AM

As you read 11:27 AM your expression was covered in horror, but.. It could’ve been worse. For example, maybe it was sent at 9am and here you are just sitting on your ass, waking up at basically 2PM. You smiled a bit thinking of the scenario in your head, visualizing what you would act like if they actually happened. You quickly stopped yourself, though. something was a bit off in this text. You reread it at least 5 times to finally recognize what’s wrong with it. 

“uh kogane, you didn’t even give me the location” sent 2:07 PM

Sadly, you weren’t really the patient type and when 10 minutes had passed you started to get a bit antsy. Your leg was basically vibrating based off of how fast your foot was lighting tapping against the ground. 

Fuck it.

—————————

You were now furiously knocking on the door- at this point you don’t know if it was either knocking or punching it with the side of your fist. Like the idiot you were, you didn’t even try to use the door knob. When you were tired out from yelling and knocking on the door, that was the time when you decided to use it. 

And, it worked.

“Kogane! I’m coming in..” you slowly dragged out the n’s in the word “in” as if you were screaming “ready or not, here I come!” in a classic game of hide and seek. 

When you walked in, you could see streamers and balloons around the house, the little “Happy Birthday!” sign greeting you. Food was spread out in the kitchen, the dining room table was all set up with a birthday table cover and everything. You could clearly see the effort he put in based off of the mess he made in the living room. You could see the plastic bags the decorations must have came in when he bought them scattered around the living room. His house looked like a little kids birthday party, but in a good way. He really did go all out. The poor guy did this all by himself. You frowned at the thought, and then suddenly had a sly smirk on your face. 

You quickly took your shoes off and began to quietly walk around the house, wanting to surprise him and give him a big old innocent birthday hug. Now that the thought crossed your mind, you totally forgot to get him a birthday present while on the way here, but you didn’t know the party would be at his house- that could be your excuse. You nodded to yourself, agreeing with the thought. 

His home was oddly quiet, but you continued to walk around the house. Eventually, you came upon a door that was slightly opened and you peeked your head inside without hesitation. 

Koganegawa was slowly stroking his long, veiny cock with his right hand, his hips thrusting up into his fist every now and then. Some strands of his hair were stuck to the sides of his head due to the sweat that was forming on his body. The little groans he let out was causing your thighs to clench together, trying your hardest to not picture what he would look like between your legs. This dirty thought of yours caused you to let out a small moan, quickly slapping your hand against your mouth, hoping he didn’t hear. You slowly sat yourself on the ground, trying to even out your breaths since it was such a close call, but you were cut off when the door right beside you swung open. You screamed in surprise and fell on your back. You could clearly see Kogane’s unattended, throbbing cock against his boxers. Goddamn was it bigger up close.

“Uh.. Happy birthday?” you awkwardly announced, trying to break the cold, uncomfortable silence, waving both of your hands in a celebratory, jazz hands motion.

He grabbed your wrist, helping you off the ground and led you to his bed. He stood in front of you, hands on his hips staring at you, obviously expecting an answer. 

Instead of giving him an answer right away, you took this as a chance to admire the sight in front of you. His toned body was enough to make you drool, his abs glossed in sweat and goddamn.. his fucking thighs. They were pretty nice, not gonna lie, you smirked to yourself. Honestly, you wouldn’t mind if he just stood there all day. He should be put in a museum. Your eyes slowly went to his-

“Y/N! I’m still here! What were you doing outside of my door??” he yelled, hands out in front of him, expressing his question more through his movement. 

“Listen, I- You.. You didn’t answer my goddamn text!” you replied, your eyes darting to the other side of the room, trying your best to not make eye contact with him. “So i.. came to your house, and when you didn’t answer the door i just.. Walked right on in.” you were putting your best efforts to lighten the mood but it wasn’t exactly working as you hoped it would.

“Then you decided to watch me jack off my dick behind my door, too, right?”

“What else would i have been doing? fucking idiot..” your voice trailed off at the last part, not wanting him to hear. 

“Would you like to repeat what you said, Y/N?” he teasingly asked, cocking one of his eyebrows up. 

“Uh no, fuck off, yeah?” you attacked right back. You leaned forward, your elbow resting against your knee as your head rested in the palm of your hand. You stuck your tongue out at him like a child, waiting to see his reaction. 

He hummed in response, looking down at you with his arms crossed. “Y/N, are you even wearing anything under that?” You almost choked as you held in your laugh. I guess he was the idiot. 

“Yeah, I am. Do you think i’m stupid or something? I would never leave the house with no pants on. Bold of you to assume that.” his eyebrow was still in the same position as if he didn’t believe you. You stood up from the bed.

“Kogane, look” he tilted his head at you and you lifted your shirt up. He immediately looked away and you had to repeat yourself. “No, look at me, idiot! I’m wearing shorts, see?” he slowly turned his head towards you and he looked puzzled. This man is as stupid as an elementary schooler, you don’t know how he’s still alive by now. 

“So i’m guessing you have a birthday present for me?” he joked, but your mind clicked. It wasn’t your birthday hug idea, but something else. 

“Actually, yes, I do. Can you sit on the bed for me real quick?” he quickly sat on the bed, oblivious to what he’s getting himself into. 

You slowly got onto the bed and sat around him, your arms wrapping around his waist, your hands inching their way to his boxers.

“What are you-“ 

“You already know what i’m doing, it’s your birthday so just let it happen, okay?” he nodded with a gulp, and you continued your ministrations. 

Your left hand slowly lowered the boxers off of his legs, causing his dick to spring up against his stomach. He groaned at the feeling, which made you eager to continue even further. You didn’t expect for his dick to be so long. It was average girth but holy shit was it lengthy. Your right hand began to stroke his cock, slowly at first, immediately teasing the tip with your thumb, wiping the precum off and onto his shaft. Feeling him shiver against your body made your cheeks flush and had your right hand slightly shaking in excitement. He noticed this and took action by wrapping his large, rough hands against yours, guiding your hand up and down at a quicker pace than you had before. His moans were becoming more apparent and louder, signaling that he’s close to his release. Kogane’s hands never left yours as his grip tightened, going even faster. Feeling how eager he is to cum and just by watching him help you jack him off is making you even wetter than you were before. 

“God, Kogane you’re so goddamn cute..Feeling your hand against mine while you guide me to fuck your cock with my hand is so fucking hot..” you felt his cock twitch at your words and you smirked through your bright red cheeks, lowering your head against his dick and filling your mouth with his long cock. Kogane threw his head back in pleasure while pushing your head down against him, his cum filling your mouth, making you choke. You remain still, though, allowing him to wait out his release. 

He lifted your head up off of him and when he looked at you with his cum dripping down the sides of your mouth, he immediately became hard again. 

“Didn’t know you were that eag-“ you were cut off when Kogane grabbed you by the hips and threw you right under him. The way he towered over you made you want to cower under a blanket and hide, but at the same time it just turned you on even more. It was almost like a prey being hunted by predator scenario.

“Kogane what are you-“ the smirk on his face was like one you’ve never seen before.

“Oh, how the tables have turned.” the sly little dumb smirk he still had plastered on his face made you want to flick him upside the head, but realistically you couldn’t since you were vulnerable as all hell under him.

He didn’t hesitate whatsoever to pull your shirt off of you. Already, your shorts were gone and the same with your bra. You were lost- it was like a switch was flipped with him. You didn’t know he had a side like this to him. 

Kogane went up to your neck and purposefully breathed against your neck causing you to jump. He soon started to leave small, gentle bites on the same spot, letting him leave a long lick against it, hurriedly wanting to whisper against your ear something god knows what where he got it from. 

“I’m going to fuck you senseless until you learn who’s the boss around here, okay sweetheart?” chills were sent down your spine, your heart thumping in your chest, positive that he could hear it. Your cheeks were the brightest shade of red to the point it looks like a child got into their mom’s makeup. But, you didn't know if he watched some really hardcore porn or what, but did not know at al that he had that in him.

His two, long fingers were suddenly teasing your entrance, causing you to let out a small moan, but you acted quickly as you covered your mouth with your hand, not willing to give in to him. Not pleased with your actions, his fingers delved inside if you, pushing in and out of you at a rather quick pace, making sure to curl his fingers in all of the right spots. 

“Can you not hide your moans from me? Pretty Please?” he gave you those puppy dog eyes that you always hated. You shook your head. He shrugged in response and positioned himself against you, your eyes widening in shock. Before you could stop him, question him, or anything, he was already buried inside of you, letting out a loud grunt. 

“I’m going to fuck you really hard, Y/N. I know you like that. You like it when guys fuck you until you can’t walk, right?” he emphasized the last word by slamming his cock deep inside of you, straight towards your g-spot. You basically screamed by the intense feeling, and he only just started. 

“Finally opening up to me, pretty girl?” he pushed your legs up by your head and began to drill his cock into you nonstop. His tight grip on your hips was bound to leave a mark afterwards. The sound of his hips slapping against yours could’ve been enough to make you cum alone.

He pulled out of you and you glared at him.

“Don’t worry, don’t worry.. Come here.” he motioned his hands for you to come towards him. He led you towards the wall.

“Jump” you obliged and he pinned you against the wall, making sure to not waste time by quickly inserting his pulsing cock inside of you. 

“Fuck!” he looked at you, giving you a quick peck on the lips before he started to move inside of you. His thrusts began extremely slow, obviously teasing you. 

“You know what I want.” Kogane’s thrusts became even slower before they came to a stop.

“No, I don’t, i can’t read min-“ your snark remark was cut off as you were given a hard, rough slap on the ass. You looked at him, and he nodded as a signal to go on. You sighed.

“Fuck me.” You sarcastically said in a dull tone, making him annoyed on purpose.

“Come on.. you know you want to. Quit lying about it, Y/N!” he began to rub your clit with one of his fingers as he waited.

“I want you to fuck me till your hearts content. I want you to fuck my pussy until i beg you to stop so i want you to quit messing around and get on with it already!” a small whine was released at the end of your words, but Koganegawa seemed satisfied.

“Whatever you want..” He grinned, He pushed himself further against you, making sure you were well propped up against the wall, and began to thrust at a rapid pace, causing you to grab onto his shoulders to give you more support. 

“God fucking dammit you’re so tight..” your walls were clenching around him like a vice. His cock filled you up so well, but the fact that his dick was brushing against your cervix was throwing you off the edge. It was impossible to think that someone could fill you up so good, and so perfectly. 

“Fuck, fuck! Please don’t stop, Kanji! Right there, right there!” his cheeks flushed at hearing his first name slip past your lips. The pace that he is holding at the moment, you could basically say he was using you like a sex doll. He was like an animal in heat, he showed no signs of stopping whatsoever, and it didn’t help that you used his first name.

“Say it again, please.” he whines against your ear, his hot breaths driving you to the edge even more 

“Kanji!” you moaned, practically chanting his name. He loved the way you said his name. The way his cock thrusted in and out of you at such a quick pace while your cum was coated around it, was the second hottest thing next to Kogane. The way he moaned, the skin slapping against skin was too much.

“I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum!” you screamed, but to your surprise Kogane kept on thrusting in and out of you, chasing his own release. You knew he wasn’t going to stop until he came.

“Kanji, please cum, I’m begging you Kanji! You fill me up so good, I love the way you fill me up is so perfect just like you baby-“ and that was it, that’s all that took.

“FUCK! Y/N I love you I love you!” he came inside of you, slowly moving his hips inside of you to ride out the overwhelming feel of pleasure. Your tongue was lolling out of your mouth at the overstimulation, and Kogane let out a small chuckle before carefully carrying you to his bed. 

“Where the hell did you learn all of that from, Kanji?” you said through heavy breaths.

Futakuchi leaned on the door.

“From me.” he pointed at himself with a proud smile before walking off.

[dreamescapeswriting]

BTS Reaction | You Share The Same Birthday [Request]

Seokjin:

Every year was the same, you would both want to throw each other a surprise birthday party but it would never work out that way because you had the same birthday so it was never a surprise unless it was early or really late but this year you'd decided to just not throw each other a party, pinky promising not to throw a party and just spend the day together instead.

"Jin! Mine next!" You said going over to the cupboard and bringing out the big blue box you'd wrapped up, the boys had all come around to see you both since you weren't doing anything for your birthday. You'd spent the morning with just you and Jin, having breakfast in bed, then slowly making your way down to the living room where you watched Disney movies together. Then it was time for the boys to come around but you refused to change out of your PJ's with consisted of one of Jin's shirts and some shorts from a PJ set you lost years ago.

"I thought you weren't doing gifts this year," Jimin said watching as you shot him a playful glare,

"The deal was no party, I still got him something." You giggled sitting across from Jin and watching him open it up, he unwrapped the wrapping paper and then took the folds of the box out. Balloons came flying out from inside and there was confetti inside, as well as tissue paper.

"It's not much." Inside was a photo frame of you both along with smaller gifts he'd been hinting at all year.

"Since it's almost Christmas I thought this should be small," He smiled bringing you into a hug and rubbing your back.

"Your turn!" Jimin screamed looking at Jin who glared at him as you had done when he questioned you.

"You didn't have to get me anything," He sprinted off upstairs and grabbed the present he'd been hiding and then came running back downstairs. It was in a small pink box with a bow on the top, you took it from him and slowly opened it up to reveal a locket with a photo of your both inside.

"Baby, it's gorgeous." You giggled looking at the small locket which was in the BTS logo shape with your birth stone on the front,

"It's from the new collection, not out yet but I saw it and thought it was perfect for you." He bent down to kiss you earning a fake gag to come from Jungkook who in return got the middle finger from you.

"You're an adult now Kookie," You giggled watching as he rolled his eyes at you, handing Jin his gifts and you all began exchanging gifts with each other. You giving them their Christmas presents and telling them not to open them until your fake Christmas you had every year. It had always been the same for the last four years of dating Jin.

"Happy Birthday baby." You whispered to Jin as he followed you into the kitchen, you were making coffee for everyone.

"Happy Birthday Jagiya." He whispered back to you, kissing the base of your neck and then your jawline.

"One more surprise when they're all gone." He whispered biting on your ear before disappearing into the living room to rejoin the boys to act as though nothing had happened in the kitchen.

Yoongi:

Yoongi wasn't one that liked to celebrate his birthday, he hated whenever the boys tried to surprise him because he would always know so instead of acting as though it was his birthday he would pretend it was just your day.

"Morning Birthday boy," You giggled straddling his lap that morning bending down to kiss him on the lips, his hands rested on your waist as he looked up at you.

"Hi Birthday girl," You smiled at him and looked over at the desk you had cleared off that morning,

"I made breakfast, we're going to have a chill day. No studio talk, understood?" He nodded and sat up in the bed with you,

"You made all that?" He asked looking over at the table full of food, there must have been enough to feed seven of you both,

"The others are here?" He questioned wondering why you'd made so much but you shook your head,

"We're not leaving this bedroom so I made food to last us all day." You giggled getting up from his lap and going to get you both a plate full of food, he admired you as you plated all his favourite foods onto one plate and brought it back over to him.

"We're not leaving the bedroom?" He questioned with a smirk on his lips, you giggled at where his mind had gone but you shook your head at him.

"That's later, right now I'm starving and I want to eat before I give you your presents." You told him biting down onto a pancake and moaning out at how good they taste, Yoongi's mouth fell open when he heard you and you stared at him.

"You're going to moan like that and expect me to just sit here and eat my breakfast." You swallowed the pancake that was in your mouth and he smirked at you moving the plate to the side table, bringing you closer to him with one arm and pinning your hips down with the other.

"You look so cute today," He whispered in your ear, kissing down your jawline until he got to your lips,

"Shut up, I'm another year older and I swear I have wrinkles." You grumbled trying to hide your face but he pulled your hands away and kissed you softly, you kissed him back your hands falling into his hair and tugging at the black tips smirking against his lips as he let out a low growl.

"You really want to eat first?" He questioned biting and sucking on your neck while you whimpered,

"N-No."

"Good, because I'm hungry for something else." He whispered against your skin ripping the buttons open at the front of your silk pyjamas and smirking as you let out a shriek about it.

Hoseok:

Before you started dating he would spend the day with Army but it changed when you got into a relationship, for the first four years of your relationship he would spend an hour with army and then the rest of the day with you. But now your relationship was out and people supported you, you decided to spend the day with Army again. Doing a VLive throughout the entire day, starting by waking Hoseok up in the way Army wanted and they choose blasting out the new album was the best way to do it so you took the phone with you and began jumping around and filming Hoseok's reaction.

"You're evil!" He groaned holding a pillow over his face,

"Say Hi to Army!" You screamed giving him the phone and getting into the bed beside him.

Then that was how you spent your day, setting up the camera so people could talk to you as though they were with you, opening gifts with Army and then baking a cake.

"He forgot to buy one." You said to the camera as you got the ice and fresh strawberries ready, Hoseok was making faces behind you and you stared at him in the phone screen.

"You know I can see you right?" He stopped and sat down beside you smirking at Army and answering questions while you put the icing into a bag and smirked to yourself.

"Hey Hobi, shall we start a new tradition for our birthdays?" You questioned walking over to him and trying not to look suspicious and you prayed Army wasn't going to give it away to him,

"What do you want to do?" He asked looking at his phone as he tried to find some music to decorate the cake to and you smirked squirting a bunch of the icing out on to the top of his hair and giggling as he groaned out.

"You're such a child!" He yelled scooping it off and throwing it in your direction, you let out a squeal before squirting more and throwing flour in his direction but it wasn't over, he began throwing some at you as well laughing whenever he hit you with flour or icing.

"ARMY SEND HELP!" You screamed pretending to die on the floor as he hit you with another scoop of the icing, since your eyes were closed he took advantage of it, he picked up the cake you'd been working very hard on and took the phone with him, placing the phone where army could see you. He straddled your lap and your eyes shot open,

"What are you doing?" You asked in a panicked tone when you saw the cake in his hands,

"Hobi...No...Down." You whispered but he smushed it against your face making you scream out his name and wiggle around to try and get away from him but it wasn't working.

"HOBI! ARMY! SOMEONE!" You screamed trying to move away but he pulled the remaining cake off and placed some into his mouth and nodded.

"Tastes good," You spat some out onto the floor next to you and glared at him,

"I hate you." You joked looking over at the phone and then back to Hobi.

"You love me."

Namjoon:

Since parties weren't your or Namjoon's thing you decided that it was best to do something else on your shared birthday. You weren't huge fans of going to clubs you would both rather stay home together and spend time alone than in some loud club where you could barely hear yourself think which is what happened the year before. Jimin and Jungkook dragged you both out for drinks and you ended up getting wasted and not being able to remember a thing. So this you year you both decided it was going to be different deciding to wake up early and go for a walk around the Han River before going into town and going to all your favourite book shops before heading home to your shared apartment and having a relaxing day inside together. Ordering food in because you didn't want to cook or have Namjoon, you quite liked not having food poisoning or having him hurt himself on your birthday.

"Joonie can we have pizza tonight?" You asked lifting your head from his chest, he was playing with your hair while reading to you from one of his favourite books.

"I can't see why not," He whispered not lifting his eyes from the page, he went back to reading it aloud to you. You smiled to yourself at the scene, it was something you could never have imagined happening before. You and Namjoon had been together for three years and it was the first time it was really hitting you that you were living this life with the perfect guy.

"Where's your mind?" He questioned noticing you weren't paying attention to what he was saying from the book, he closed it and watching as you turned to look up at him with a smile on your face.

"Just us, how we started dating and stuff." He chuckled at the thought, he was so awkward when he first met you and wouldn't ask you out resulting in Jin walking up to you and doing it for him.

"Do you remember how nervous you were on our first date?" You questioned looking at him and seeing him cringe at just the thought of it.

"I ended up sweating through three shirts, how could I forget." He groaned shifting you so you were sitting on his lap so he could stare up at you and admire how stunning you were to him.

"What are you thinking about?"

"How gorgeous you are." You scoffed getting off his lap and going to find the pizza menu but he rushed up behind you and grabbed your hips,

"Do I need to remind you how beautiful you are?" He whispered hungrily in your ear making you whimper,

"You already have six times today. I'm tired and sore baby." He kissed your cheek and told you what he wanted from the pizza place deciding to give you a break and then going to run himself a bath knowing you would go and join him once the pizzas were ordered and on their way.

Jimin:

"Do you know what today is baby?" Jimin asked wrapping his arms around you in the kitchen,

"Tuesday." You answered grabbing your coffee and looking at the time,

"I'm going to be late to work Jimin, tell the boys I say hi!" You yelled running out of the kitchen and out of the house.

"It's our birthday..." He said slowly going over to check the calendar that it wasn't your birthday and he wasn't being weird about dates. He frowned checking his phone and seeing messages from the boys, he found it a little odd that you'd forgotten your own birthday but he also knew how much stress you were under at work and understood that you were probably just tired.

"NAMJOON! Knife! Down now!" You yelled noticing him in the corner of your eye, you were at the dorms trying to make the place look perfect for Jimin to come around to. You felt terrible for rushing out on him that morning but it was only because you were such a terrible liar when he came to him.

"A little higher Tae." You giggled watching him struggle to hang the banner up but once it was perfect he came down and hugged you.

"Happy birthday by the way. Are you sure he has no idea?" You nodded looking over at the door, he was due around any minute and you were still in your work clothes.

"Positive, I have to change." You rushed up to Jimin's old room and got changed into a pink dress that you'd gotten weeks ago for the occasion and headed back downstairs when you heard Tae scream that he was on the driveway. You hid in the kitchen with the cake and Namjoon, as soon as the front door opened they began screaming out happy birthday to him and you walked out, being careful of where you walked.

"I knew you didn't forget your own birthday!" Jimin yelled coming over to you and blowing out the candles, Namjoon took the cake from you and Jimin bent down to pick you up swinging you around a little chuckling as you giggled in his ear.

"I didn't want to do nothing again, were you surprised?" You questioned as he put you back down on the floor,

"So surprised baby." He lied kissing your cheek and making you pout,

"Who gave it away?" Everyone fell silent and you looked around the living room to see everyone staring at Jungkook who was trying to avoid looking at you.

"Kookie! You promised." You sighed looking at him, he was staring back at you with a guilty look across his face.

"I didn't mean to, he saw me picking up the cake yesterday and I told him everything." You groaned hiding your head in Jimin's neck and thanking him for trying to act surprised when he happened and he chuckled kissing your lips.

"I'll get you one day and you will be surprised." You mumbled poking your tongue out at him and laughing as he kissed you again.

Taehyung:

Since your birthday was late in the year he was always busy with preparations for the Korean New Year Show and you were at home with family but you made sure to make time for one another. Having a skype session together on your birthday, each of you getting a cupcake each with a candle together so you could blow it out and make a wish together, always the same wish that you could spend at least one birthday together.

"Same wish?" Taehyung asked over the phone, you hummed lazily looking at your bedroom wall. He couldn't video call you yet because he wasn't back at his hotel room on time,

"I'm sorry baby." He said as he heard the hum, you didn't sound happy that it was your birthday and normally this wouldn't bother you. You got to see Tae a lot all of the time but spending one birthday together was something you wanted desperately.

"Don't be, I'm just being sappy because I'm old now." You giggled sitting up in the bed and listening to him talk about what the boys had done that day for his birthday, starting with the surprise birthday cake.

"There was one thing they did that made me the happiest guy on the planet though," You asked him what it was but your doorbell rang when you were talking,

"I better go get it, it's probably my food." You took the phone with you as you walked down the stairs opening the door to find Taehyung standing there and holding a giant stuffed animal.

"TAE?!" You screamed alerting the neighbours who were now peaking through the curtains, you jumped into Taehyung's arms making him drop the teddy bear he was carrying and you giggled kissing him repeatedly on the lips,

"When did you? How did-"

"The boys got me a ticket to come and see you." He carried you into the apartment and you began tearing up kissing him passionately as he wrapped his arms around you and pulling away,

"We don't have long, we have to get you packed and then go back to the airport."

"We?" You questioned looking at him as he dragged you up in the direction of the bedroom,

"You don't think I'd go back without my favourite girl now did you?" You giggled at him and went up to the bedroom to find your passport, suitcase and clothes. Taehyung had the weekend planned once the Korean New Year was over, you were going to sit in the hotel room and binge eat food, watching nothing but Korean Dramas and spending all your minutes together, having a birthday weekend instead of a birthday day.

Jungkook:

Usually, Jungkook would be spending his Birthday with the boys out of the country while they filmed for Bon Voyage but this year was different, he'd made plans with BigHit to postpone the filming of their show so he could spend time with you. You didn't mind him being away it was his job and you knew how much he loved his job but he wanted to surprise you. You shared a birthday and in the five years of dating, you'd always celebrated early or late, never together or on time. Which is why it was such a surprise to you when he showed up that morning and told you to pack warm clothes and you began a road trip where you didn't know the destination and he just told you it was a surprise.

"This place is insane Jungkook." You said as you walked through the log cabin, he'd taken you out to a snow cabin and you were spending a week together. Nothing but snow, fireplaces, and each other as well as activities to keep you entertained for the time you would be together.

"We have an entire week alone, no one knows where we are." He smirked kissing your lips softly and tilting your head up to look at him and you giggled.

"Snowboarding and then food?!" You asked looking out at the slopes, you'd passed them on your way up to your cabin and it was all you could think about doing it.

"We have plenty of time for that later," Jungkook said as his mind was somewhere else, he kissed down your neck making you giggle as he placed his hands on your waist pushing you over to the sofa and laying you down.

"I guess the snowboarding could wait." You whispered taking off his giant thick coat and letting it fall down on the floor beside the sofa,

"Ever wanted to do it in front of a fire like in the movies?" You giggled looking at the fireplace with a smirk on your face, it was always something you'd wanted to do and now you'd seen the smirk on Jungkook's face you knew it was on his mind do.

"Now I have." He smirked pulling you down to the floor and sitting you on his lap, his hands began exploring your body as you made out in front of the burning fireplace, all that was filling the air were sounds of kissing and the crackling firewood.

tagline: 

@yoongisdumplingcheeks @snowy-meowl @lynnthevirgo @jooniesdarlingdimples @kpopfanfictionhoes @lyoongx @callingmyangel @fan-ati--c @mitzwinchester @btsiguess-kpop @rjsmochii

[mopeytropey]

a beer buds series: chapter 8

author’s note: happy, sappy Lexa hath arrived

available on AO3: here or below the cut

Timeline: just after Lexa returns from her holidays in New York, Clarke is bombarded with work at Dockside; Lincoln keeps her company over the weekend as Lexa relays the events of her Friday spent with Clarke (chapter 7 of 'apu')

Beer: Frequency KÖLSCH-INSPIRED GERMAN ALE

Clean and bright. Pleasingly malty with a touch of noble hop. Crisp and sharp with a subtle malt sweetness on the finish

ABV 5.0%

Frequency: Winter Hill Brewing (Somerville, MA)

:::

Lexa cannot stop smiling.

She hasn’t been able to curb the small grins and outright smiles that keep spreading across her lips at random intervals since leaving Clarke’s house on Friday morning.

She doesn’t stop them when her thoughts drift to the sound of Clarke’s voice and the looks they shared in her kitchen over coffee and bagels. And, she can’t keep her lips from curving when remembering their dinner Friday night, the way Clarke’s eyes would gleam and her cheeks would blush when Lexa would say something purposefully flirtatious. She has more-or-less lost all power over the muscles in her face and the control Clarke has on her overall good mood.

She hasn’t allowed herself this much visible happiness in ages. It feels both incredibly unnatural and like enormous relief.

And, because she is smiling into her phone while reading a recent text from Clarke, riddled with profanity about being stuck at work, she doesn’t notice Lincoln approaching.  

“Hey, I’ve missed that smile.”

Lexa’s head snaps up at the sound of his voice, and her smile remains. She’s missed him too.

“Hey.”

They clumsily exchange a hug while Lexa is sat on a wicker bar stool and Lincoln stands beside her at a bright grey bar counter made from swirled marble. The sun streams through the front windows of an upscale restaurant known for their brunch menu, woodfired pizzas, and signature cocktails.

Lexa had, in fact, intended to ask Clarke to brunch at this very establishment. She has been eager to resume their mutual exploration of the attraction that’s been brimming between them since early June. Friday had been a glimpse, a negligible fraction of what Lexa knows they are bound to discover over time. She thinks of her fingers tangling between Clarke’s or the physical distances between them that are gradually vanishing. Her head buzzes with all their potential in the days and weeks to come.

Lincoln unbundles from his wool peacoat and unwinds a striped scarf from around his neck to reveal his thick cable knit sweater beneath. “I just saw the girls,” he announces.

Lexa swallows, torn abruptly from the places her mind had been wandering. “Did you?”

“Yeah, they’re slammed down there.” Lincoln takes his seat and then angles himself comically in Lexa’s direction as if he plans to interrogate her. “So, Clarke says hi.”

Lexa’s chest balloons and her smile expands beyond her control. “Oh. Okay. Thanks.”

“I assume this means you two are on speaking terms again?”

The burn in Lexa’s cheeks is so severe, she’s forced to look away to the sounds of Lincoln’s delighted laughter. He playfully jabs a finger into her bicep while she fails miserably to keep her cool.

“We started talking before I left for New York.” Lexa clears her throat, hoping it will reduce the heat of her embarrassment. “She dropped me at the train station, actually.”

“Yeah, I know. Octavia told me,” Lincoln admits. Lexa backhands him across his chest and attempts to scowl. “Sorry, I had to mess with you a little bit. I haven’t seen you in forever!”

“That’s your one free one.” Empty threats, and they both know it.

“Yeah, sure. Okay,” Lincoln plays along, nevertheless slinging an arm around the back of Lexa’s stool.

The bartender approaches before Lexa can respond, and Lincoln reaches across the bar to slap her hand in a familiar exchange. “What’s good, Lincoln?”

“Hey, what’s up, Taylor?”

“What are you drinking?” she asks him while sliding a coaster in front of him.

He nods to Lexa’s pint of beer. “What’s this?”

“It’s that kölsch-inspired one from Winter Hill,” Lexa answers. “It’s really smooth.”

“Okay, cool. I’ll do the same. Thanks.”

“You guys eating?”

“Yeah, I’d love to see a menu,” Lexa tells her.

Taylor nods, reaching for two rolls of cutlery from beneath the bar. “You got it. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay, so: what happened? What’s happening? Tell me everything. How was your Christmas?”

Lexa can’t help but laugh at Lincoln’s eager requests, rattled off with palpable excitement. She takes a deep breath. “Christmas was definitely interesting.”  

“Oh yeah?”

Taylor returns with Lincoln’s beer and two menus. She mumbles something quick and low in Spanish to Lincoln that makes him laugh.

“She’s got some real pretentious dicks on the other side of the bar,” Lincoln informs her once Taylor has left them to tend to her other customers. Because the bar is circular, Lincoln attempts to scope out the situation on the other side of the bar by peering through the rows of bottles, glassware, and flatscreen TVs that create a barrier between both sides.

“Think we should bounce them out of here?”

Lincoln laughs into his first sip of beer. “Let me have another pint and I’ll let you know.” He finishes another long sip before sliding his glass back onto the bar. “Alright, let’s hear it.”

“What do you want to know?”

“I want to know why Clarke is suddenly in such a supremely good mood despite working her second double in a row, and why you haven’t been able to wipe that idiot grin off your face since I walked in. Wait—also, what did Anya get you for Christmas?”

Lexa rolls her eyes, hoisting up with disdain an article of outerwear from the stool beside her. “Stupid hat.”

Lincoln swallows his mouthful of beer and laughs, nodding approvingly. “Classic An. Okay so, what exactly happened while you were at home?”

Lexa watches her fingers trace the darker patterns that thread the marble bar top. “For one, Costia and I met for coffee after Christmas and finally had that long overdue conversation I’ve been avoiding.”

“Hey, you weren’t the only one avoiding,” Lincoln reminds her.

“Yeah, I know.”

“And so, it’s over?”

Lexa exhales, reaching again for her pint of beer and taking a low sip. “I think it’d been over for a while, but: yes. In an official capacity, we ended it.”

“And, how are you and Costia? Okay?”

“Yeah, we’re good. We’d been such good friends anyway—I honestly think that was a huge part of what complicated things for us for so long.”

Lincoln hedges his reaction. “I want to be really happy for you right now because you basically look like you just dropped this huge weight around your neck, but … are you okay with everything?”  

“I am.” She looks up to meet his eye as if to prove herself. “It felt right. And, I’m—” Her traitorous lips, already pulling at their edges in a smile, will give her away every time. “I’m really good actually.”

“Good because I’m so happy for you, buddy.” Lincoln squeezes her shoulder with the hand resting on her stool. “Okay so, I know you and Clarke are talking again—and, believe me, we’re all relieved as hell about that—but, what exactly have you told her?”

“You mean about Costia?”

Lincoln finishes his sip of beer, pinning her with a look he must have learned from Anya because Lexa feels absolutely transparent. “I mean, I think Costia is just the tip of a pretty substantial iceberg, but sure. Let’s start there.”

At his candid retort, Lexa exhales a laugh and grasps her beer. “I’m fairly certain Clarke knows that my feelings for her aren’t entirely platonic, if that’s what you mean.” Her mind flashes briefly to the lighting and warmth of Clarke’s kitchen, the scent of toasted bagels and freshly ground coffee.

Lincoln claps his hands, as he so often does in moments of triumph, and smiles broadly. “I can’t tell you how glad I am that we are finally having this conversation.”

“I know. Me too.” In spite of her nerves constantly bubbling to the surface, Lexa is also flooded with the acute relief of authenticity.

“Have you seen her since you’ve been back?”

“We spent some time together on Friday.” Lexa ineffectually bites at her lip to keep from smiling. She thinks of slow hugs, soft hand-holding, and timid admissions amid charged goodbyes. Their interactions thus far have been so buffered by innocence, Lexa cannot believe the way her stomach swoops at her memory of them. “I brought her bagels.”

“Suave.”

“Listen, she—I wasn’t attempting to be romantic.”

Lincoln doesn’t miss a beat. “Liar.”

“Clarke has been living her entire life under the misguided assumption that a small, newly established bagel shop in northern Massachusetts is on par with legitimate New York bagels, Lincoln.” The severity in Lexa’s tone has him visibly amused. “I felt it my sacred duty to correct this misconception.”

“You brought her Bergen’s, didn’t you?”

Lexa looks offended at the ask. “Like I would offer her anything less.”

“And, where are my Christmas bagels?”

She rolls her eyes, reaching for her nearby pint. “Linc—”

“Okay, I see how it is. Too hung up on impressing Clarke to remember one of your oldest friends.” He is nodding, self-righteously.

Like a loveable idiot.

“I’m beginning to second-guess your request to hang out today,” she tells him while averting her eyes to the paper menu in front of her.

Lincoln laughs at her stern tone, knowing it’s a bluff, and returns his arm to rest along the back of her stool.

“How are you actually feeling about this?”

“Sharing an afternoon drink with you? I’m of two minds at the moment.”

“Now who’s being a jackass?” Lincoln grins. “So, you’re scared out of your mind about Clarke then?”

Yes. Absolutely. The nervous uncertainty is all-consuming.

Lexa shrugs, ignoring her inner anxieties and recites aloud the mantra of useless facts she’s been telling herself for days.

“Clarke and I have been close for quite awhile. She knows me, maybe better than most people. Despite any potential uncertainties, we’re operating on the foundation of a very sound friendship.”

Lincoln watches her like she’s come entirely unhinged. “Okay, yeah. Do you have any idea how incredibly shook I was at the prospect of kissing my friend Octavia?”

At the thought of kissing Clarke—images painted vividly by her traitorous mind—a breath lodges in her chest, and Lexa must return to her beer for fear of passing out.

“Is this supposed to make me feel better?”

“I’m just trying to get you to be honest with yourself. And me, for that matter. I mean, I’m just assuming—knowing how much you overthink every goddamn thing to death—that you haven’t slept with her yet.”

“Jesus, Lincoln.” Lexa swallows her embarrassment through multiple sips of beer.

“For that matter, you probably haven’t even kissed her yet.”

“I can’t think about … that yet,” she manages to say without her voice croaking from the strain.

“Kudos to you for being able to think about anything else.”

“I have, obviously, considered the prospect. I just—more than anything I keep thinking about how I want to be around her all the time.”

“No offense, because I mean this genuinely and supportively as your friend, but are you just now figuring that out?”

“Shut up,” Lexa laughs.

:::

The food, as it turns out, is notable.

Lexa orders chicken fried steak and eggs with chorizo gravy and griddled potatoes, immediately lulled into a state of happy sedation as she clears her plate.

Lincoln groans his satisfaction as well, leaning back into his stool when he’s finished. “Damn. That was so good.”

“I might nap on this stool. Your friend would be okay with that, right?”

“Yeah, obviously.” Lincoln stretches his arms over his head and folds his hands behind the base of his neck. “A good bartender is always looking to have her guests fall asleep at the bar.”

“Okay good,” Lexa answers with a sleepy smile and suppresses an actual yawn with the back of her hand.

“What are you up to for the rest of your day?”

“This meal has completely erased any prior motivation to workout. My couch sounds pretty nice right now.”

The sun is setting and the streetlamps have begun to flicker on along the cobblestreet outside the restaurant windows.

“Not gonna go lurking outside Dockside until Clarke gets out of work?” Lincoln prompts with a teasing wink.

“Why do I feel like this was an actual tactic used on Octavia?”

“An effective tactic, you might say.”

“No,” Lexa laughs. “I’m not planning to stalk Clarke at her place of business, you creep.”

“Suit yourself,” Lincoln shrugs. “If you need any tips, I’m just sayin’.”

Lexa’s laughter is more of a cackle, lost in the increasing din of the Sunday evening bar crowd. “I think I’m all set. Thanks.”

“Oh okay, here we go—two beers later, she is confidence personified.”

Taylor returns to collect their empty plates, and Lincoln, practically gleeful, seizes on an opportunity to embarrass Lexa in a public setting.

“Taylor, help me out here—first kisses with relative strangers versus first kisses with a friend-turned-something-more. Generally speaking, which one makes you more nervous?”  

“Why?” Taylor grins, bracing herself across from them with both hands grasping to the edge of the bar top. “Is one of you about to ask me to makeout?”

Lexa smothers a mortified oh-my-god against the palms of her hands where she has covered her face.

“No, no,” Lincoln laughs while shaking his head. “Like I would ever do anything to get Toni on my bad side—your girlfriend might be more intimidating than Octavia.”

“She’s gonna love hearing that,” Taylor smiles.

“The thing is, Lexa here—”

“Would love the check,” Lexa interjects, pinning Lincoln with her most threatening glare while her cheeks still burn warmly. “And, for reasons yet unclear to me, I’ll take Lincoln’s too. You can put us on the same tab.”  

“You got it,” Taylor chuckles, and strides off to the kitchen with their empty dishes.

As Lexa signs the tab, leaving an exorbitant tip to somehow assuage her own embarrassment as well as fulfill an unspoken creed between service industry workers, Lincoln warmly grabs her shoulder.

“Thanks. This was a great way to spend my otherwise very boring Sunday while O is stuck at work.”  

“Lucky for you, my Sunday plans were also foiled.”

“So glad we could be each other’s second fiddle,” Lincoln grins.

Lexa returns his familiar smile. “Anytime.”

They bundle back into their coats and hats and gloves before Lincoln waves and shouts a quick farewell to Taylor from across the bar. As they push through the front entryway back out into the cold and wind and lightly dusted snowy sidewalk, Lincoln wraps an arm around Lexa’s shoulder and hugs her closer.

“Thanks again—you didn’t have to pick up the tab, buddy.”

“Think of it as your belated Christmas present. Besides, you basically always pay whenever we hang out. I owe you.”

For the drinks and food, yes. But, Lexa also feels indebted to Lincoln’s unending kindness and patient listening as everything between she and Clarke has unfolded.

“You don’t owe me anything, but that food does make for a great belated Christmas present.”

“Well, it’s not pumpernickel bagels and pimento cream cheese, but,” Lexa shrugs, looking up to catch Lincoln’s eye just as his expression creases painfully.

“Aw man, did you have to bring up the pimento cream cheese?!”

Lexa laughs and savors the warmth of Lincoln’s broad frame close beside her.

:::

Sometime between the distance of Lincoln’s apartment, where they had parted after a smothering hug, and Lexa’s front entryway, her phone buzzes from within her coat pocket. When she sees Clarke’s name as the incoming call, she removes a glove with her teeth and swipes to answer.

“Hey.” It’s so cold now that the sun has set, her breath is frozen in puffs, but the anticipation of hearing Clarke’s voice builds a warmth deep in her stomach. “How are you?”

“Oh my god, I’m so tired,” Clarke whimpers.

Always so dramatic.

Still, she has sympathy for Clarke’s long and tiresome hours of unexpected work over the weekend. Lexa shuffles across an empty crosswalk, hurrying towards her street as other pedestrians bustle past in bulky winter wear. “Sorry you’ve been stuck there for two days.”

“I was prepared for Saturday. Today has kicked my ass. Where are you? It sounds windy. Oh my god, please tell me you aren’t running in this weather.”

Lexa laughs as she reaches her apartment and searches for her keys while keeping her phone pinned against her shoulder. “I’m walking home from grabbing food and drinks with Lincoln.”  

“Oh, that’s right. Sorry, my brain is fried. Drinks and food sound so nice right now,” Clarke practically whines.

Lexa pushes into the warmth of the stairwell and begins to take the stairs to her apartment. “Seeing Lincoln was really nice, although it was you I was hoping to share a meal with today.”

“Were you?”

She can hear Clarke better now as she unlatches the locks of her apartment’s front door and steps inside a quiet, darkened room. She smiles shyly at Clarke’s surprised delight and lightly clears her throat.

“Yes.”

“And what did these plans entail?”

Lexa used to wonder constantly about Clarke’s intentions—whether or not she was consciously aware of the provocative ring to her voice. Presently, Lexa requires no translation: Clarke’s flirtation is unmistakable.

“I wanted to take you out for brunch.”

“I would have loved that.” Clarke sounds beyond charmed, and Lexa’s entire face warms.

“That’s—that’s good to know,” she responds, exhaling shakily at Clarke’s belated acceptance to a date they never got to have.

“I had brunch plans for us today too!”

“Oh yeah?” Lexa’s intrigue instantly distracts from her spike of nerves.

“Yes! They involved homemade waffles and really nice prosecco I absconded with the last time I left my mom’s and, most importantly, not being at work for over nine hours.”

Lexa clicks on a nearby lamp and shuffles out of her coat but does not bother to remove her absurd winter hat. The idea of Clarke making plans for them—specifically plans that involve home-cooked meals and sharing bubbly wine in Clarke’s home—sets Lexa’s stomach fluttering as she collapses onto her sofa.

“Well, for future reference, I’d be up for drinking prosecco with you any time, appropriated or otherwise.”

“This is good information to have.”

Lexa cozies into the couch cushions at the sound of Clarke’s laugh, wishing desperately that they were sat side by side, filling each other in on their day. She might weave her fingers into Clarke’s hair to help her relax or pull Clarke’s legs into her lap to massage her calf muscles after a long shift at the bar.

“How was your afternoon with Lincoln?”

“He was very upset about being excluded from the New York bagel delivery.”

More of Clarke’s laughter broadens the small smile on Lexa’s mouth. “They were indeed very enviable bagels.”

“I’m glad you liked them. We’ll have to get more sometime.”

A pregnant beat in which Clarke doesn’t immediately respond has Lexa’s heart racing. “In New York?”

The insinuation of taking Clarke to Brooklyn is lightyears ahead of asking her to brunch, and Lexa scrambles to backtrack her overzealous suggestion while pulling her stupid hat over her eyes. “I, um—I didn’t mean—”

“Lexa, I’m sorry—ugh,” Clarke grunts in frustration. “I have to go help one of our servers with something.”

“Oh, uh, yeah, of course. I’ll let you go,” Lexa fumbles to say, grateful that Clarke’s endless string of responsibilities has saved her from more useless stuttering.

“Can I call you when I’m finished here? If it’s not too late?”

Lexa sits up and finally removes her hat. “Call me whenever.”

“Okay.” Lexa can hear the grin in Clarke’s response and indulges in one of her own. “Oh, and if the invitation still stands, I would go with you to New York any time, with or without the promise of bagels.”

Lexa cannot stop smiling. She doesn’t even try.

:::

[idy-ll-ique]

Holi Hai! 

Pairing: Loki x Desi!F!Reader

Warnings: None

Genre: Pure Fluff

Requested: By @marvel-madness

Hi there! Could you do a Loki x Desi American!reader where she takes everyone to a holi festival? And it’s super adorable and kinda crack!fic at the same time?

Summary: Y/N, an American born Desi, takes her friends, the Avengers, to India to show them what a real party looks like.

Author's Note: Hi!!! A huge thanks to @marvel-madness for requesting this fic and sending the prompt! It was amazing to write! For the Indian friends, I used the names of my own friends (and I oop). I hope y'all desis reading this enjoy it! Sorry if it's crappy I tried my best—

---

Loki stared at his girlfriend of 8 months in confusion. He was confused as to why she was staring at the calendar so longingly. "Um, love, is anything—" She groaned loudly, startling him. "I wanna go! I wanna go home so bad! Haaye mein mar jawa…" That phrase was spoken in Punjabi, even though Loki knew his girlfriend was of Marathi origins. 

He didn't understand it, but her sadness was clear. "What happened? Where do you want to go?" he asked soothingly, wrapping his arms around her. "Back to India! The festival of Holi is in a week and my family is inviting me. I want to go, but…" she sighed, turning around in his arms. Y/N was a second generation desi American, her parents having moved to New York. 

Y/N was born here, but she had a lot of family back in India. She loved Bollywood, the Indian festivals, the culture, the food, everything. Every year, she went to India during the festival of Holi, it being her favorite one. This year, though, things seemed difficult. Now she was a part of the Avengers and had a lot of work. If only she could get a 2 week break. 

"But what? You have to go! It's your favorite festival, you've told me that a hundred times," Loki scoffed as she buried her face in his chest. "I know! But the Avengers, my work…" she whined. "Don't worry about that, we'll be fine," Loki laughed. Suddenly, she had a brilliant idea. They should go to India with her! "Why don't you come with me?"

"Me? Uh… okay, I don't have plans, visiting India sounds nice…" Loki stammered, taken aback. "Not only you, all of you! Thor, Tony, Steve, Nat, Bruce, Clint, Wanda, Vision, Sam, Bucky… I'll take you to a brilliant Holi festival! You'll have a lot of fun," Y/N said excitedly, jumping up and down. Loki smiled softly at her excitement. 

"Why don't we call a meeting and ask them?"

Fifteen minutes later, all the aforementioned people were assembled in the sitting room, smiling at the couple. "So, did Loki propose? Are you getting married? Is Y/N pregnant?" Loki and Y/N rolled their eyes at Tony's questions while the others laughed. "This one is pretty mild. I have a question to ask you all." Steve beckoned for Y/N to go on, everyone listening attentively. 

"As you all know, the festival of Holi is a week away, and I've been to India for the festival every single year of my life. This year, too, there isn't a problem with me going there but I wanna ask… any of you interested in tagging along?" For a few seconds, all was silent. Y/N grew nervous, should she not have asked? She got startled badly when everyone cheered loudly.

"We're going to India! We're going to India! Finally!"

A wide smile bloomed on Y/N's face; she glanced at Loki to see him already looking at her with a smile of his own. "Okay, my dudes, start packing! We leave tomorrow! Can we borrow your private jets, Tones?" He agreed instantly, hugging Y/N. "We better get to packing," Steve laughed, running out of the room with Nat, Wanda, Sam and Bucky. 

---

"Ugh… so… hot…"

"It was your idea to come to India, Y/N."

"Yeah, we feel fine."

Y/N glared at her teammates, which caused them to look at her smugly. Their jet had just landed at the Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj International Airport, in Mumbai. One of Y/N's relatives lived in a huge apartment complex in Mumbai, and she had invited their other relatives, too. Every year, that complex saw the best Holi party ever, complete with water, colours, bhaang, songs and dance. 

Y/N had been there a couple times. The Avengers and herself had decided to stay at a nearby hotel. Being 12 people, they had booked 6 double rooms in one of the hotels at the airport, called Grand Hyatt. The entire trip was sponsored by Tony Stark. Since Tony and Bruce spoke Hindi a little bit and Y/N… well, she was Indian, they decided to get 3 cabs. 

In one cab sat Loki, Y/N, Thor and Vision, in the second sat Tony, Steve, Wanda and Nat while in the third cab sat Bruce, Clint, Sam and Bucky. Their cab arrived at the hotel, they checked in and went to their rooms. 

---

"Loki, Lokes, wakey-wakey!"

Loki blinked his eyes open at the persistent awakening, turning over on the hotel bed. Y/N grabbed his shoulder, shaking him. "What? It's… 7 in the morning!" he whined shamelessly, pushing her hands away. "It'll take us 15 minutes to reach the apartment complex but the celebrations start early there," Y/N insisted. He sighed, right, today was the day of Holi.

"Fine, I'm getting up," he muttered as he sat up. Y/N stood in front of him, wearing a white kurti and white pants underneath. She looked so beautiful, he couldn't resist pulling her on his lap. "Loki," Y/N chuckled bashfully as he kissed her cheek. She turned her head to face him and placed a proper kiss to his lips. "That dress is beautiful, like you," he whispered to her.

She giggled, giving him a hug. "Okay, go get ready, I need to wake the others up," she smiled, pushing away from him. He nodded and stood up, stretching. He picked up his suitcase which was kept in the corner of the room while Y/N left to wake the others up. He picked out a white t-shirt and a pair of jeans. 

Y/N had explained to the others how wearing white during the festival was the best option. Everyone had brought along a white tee to wear. He first cleaned up and wore his clothes, finally sitting down to apply some oil to the exposed parts of his body. Y/N said it helped the colours come out faster. After preparing, he grabbed the room keys and left, locking the door. 

---

"Y/N! How are you? I thought you wouldn't visit this year," Krsna, one of Y/N's friends, grinned as she moved to hug her. The Avengers quietly stood behind, taking in all the beautiful sights. The buildings were decorated, there was a drinks table nearby, the colours were neatly kept on another table and nearly 30 other people there. Many children, a few adults and even fewer oldies. 

Since Y/N visited the apartment complex nearly every single year, you could say she practically grew up with the kids there, meaning Krsna and a few others. They had formed a strong bond.

Most of the kids were staring at these foreigners in shock and awe. "Hell no! I wouldn't miss my favorite festival for anything. Meet my friends." Krsna gathered a few of her friends too, namely Shruti, Drishti, Harsh and Ritvik. "This is Loki," Y/N introduced first. Loki moved forward to wrap his arms around his girl from behind, smiling at her Indian friends. 

"Oooh," Harsh smirked, which earned him a slap on the arm from Krsna. "Kadhi pasun?" Drishti asked cheekily, crossing her arms. "Since 8 months," Y/N replied, shaking her head. She quickly introduced the others too. They were a bit surprised, because holy hell, the Avengers but they got over their shock immediately. "This place looks nice," Wanda commented. 

"Thank you! We usually start preparing a week before Holi," Ritvik grinned. Harsh, Drishti and Ritvik decided to give the Avengers a tour of the apartment complex and they readily agreed to go along with them. Loki, Y/N, Tony, Natasha, Krsna and Shruti decided to stay back. "Tujhya mom dad la mahiti aahe?" Shruti questioned, motioning towards Loki. 

"Ho! Tyana kahi farak nahi padla," Y/N laughed, sending a smile in Loki's direction. "New York ka kya? Isne hi kiya tha na? News mein dekha meine…" Krsna asked worriedly. "Don't worry about that! Abhi thik ho gaya hai ye…" Y/N winked. Loki was trying his hardest to decipher what they were saying, but all in vain. As Tony stood to the side, listening to the three ladies talking in their native tongue, he noticed a few people walking up to him. 

They were small kids, around 8-9 years old. "Happy Holi!" one boy grinned, raising his colour filled hands up to wipe them on Tony's cheeks. Tony grinned broadly, taking some colour to return the favor. "Happy Holi, kid!" he said happily. Natasha joined him, applying some red colour to the kids' cheeks. The kids led them somewhere and the two of them went readily. 

Y/N looked around the place, trying to find her friends. She smiled proudly when she saw everyone enjoying themselves. A few of them were talking to the adults, most of them were playing with the kids and Wanda was following Drishti, who was teaching her a dance step to the songs that were playing. The scene warmed her heart. As she enjoyed the scene, a water balloon collided hard with her back.

She turned, shocked, only for Loki to cover her face in pink colour. He ruffled her hair, screaming 'Happy Holi'. "Grr, get back, a-hole!" she screamed, quickly wiping her face before she took off running after him. Krsna handed her a water balloon and with expert precision, Y/N threw it at Loki. It hit his back. He turned around and smirked at her. 

She grabbed a handful of colour and went to each of her friends, applying colour to their faces and wishing them a happy holi. She chatted with some of the aunties of the society, and also wished her relatives. Soon, the volume of the songs increased and party, holi songs started playing. The first song was Balam Pichkari. Y/N cheered loudly, dancing along with some of the others. 

"Balam pichkari, jo tune mujhe maari, toh seedhi saadhi chori sharabi ho gayi!" Y/N sang along, enjoying very much. Loki stood to the side and took out his phone, discreetly taking a few photos as she enjoyed. By the end of 2 hours, all the Avengers were soaked in water, every single colour visible on their clothes, their faces and their hair. They were a bit drunk, having had nearly 4 glasses of bhaang each. Still, they had huge grins on their faces. 

"Stay for lunch! We also organize lunch! After lunch and ice cream, we also have a game of housie but I'd understand if you—" Y/N scoffed, cutting off Ritvik's trail of words. "We're staying for as long as we can! We'll be back in about an hour, after cleaning up." She checked the time, it was 12 noon. "Sure, sure. We'll be waiting. Bye!" Harsh, Krsna, Shruti, Drishti and Ritvik waved as the Avengers walked out of the complex. 

"Did you enjoy?" Y/N asked the Avengers immediately. "Of course we did! This was the most fun I've had in years. I wanna celebrate Holi every year now," Wanda squealed. Everyone agreed with her. "See? Indian festivals, always the best," Y/N winked. They booked cabs, went to their hotels and cleaned up, taking a bath and wearing fresh clothes. 

They went back to the apartment complex just in time for lunch. Everyone there had also cleaned up. As Y/N watched her friends mingle with her Indian friends, she made up her mind— to bring the Avengers to every single Holi party from that year onwards. 

---

A/N: Yeeeee!!!! I'm sad because I couldn't play Holi this year [one of my relatives passed away, RIP :')] but writing this released dopamine in my brain.

For those of you who don't know-

Balam Pichkari is very famous Bollywood song related to Holi

Bhaang is kind of an alcoholic drink prepared from milk (?)

I've mostly used Hindi and Marathi since those two are the Indian languages I speak (I can also speak Gujarati and understand Telugu, which is my father tongue) but yeah :/

I hope you like this!!

[join-the-joywrite]

Hamish & Vera soulmate au headcannons

Sometimes I'm like a red traffic light and sometimes I'm like the Flash of writing. Would you look at that, another one for the collection! Seriously, please write these and tag/link me I'm begging--

For today's rambling, we have what you write on your skin appears on your soulmate's. I'm aiming for a little happiness, given I'm still upset about the colours one and the first/last words one. Allons-y!

Vera and Hamish were best friends as soon as Hamish finally learned how to write. They shared all their stories with one another and for the most part, told each other everything.

Their parents got them washable markers when they were 10 and 6 respectively because it was getting a little hard to stop children from writing on their arms with pens that were stubborn or toxic markers.

Strange thing was that they never actually introduces themselves and they never really noticed that they didn't know each other's names. It never mattered. This was the one person in the whole world that knew them better than anyone else -- and they had no idea who the other was. It was kind of special.

Hamish wrote about how he got bullied for wearing sweaters. They called him a nerd and teacher's pet in tones that said it was the most hateful thing to be.

Vera wrote back the most cunning ways to get back at the bullies until Hamish ended up being almost a poster boy for his school while still maintaining some kind of commanding aura. At age 8.

Hamish was the first person to learn that Vera was pregnant.

"WHAT? But -- but you are a child!!" "We are leading very different lives."

"I asked my mom and she said children shouldn't be having kids but I think you'll be okay. You're stronger than anyone I know and I think your kid's gonna love you lots." Vera never tells anyone that she finds the most support in a little twelve year old kid whose name she isn't really inclined to learn.

When Vera's baby dies, Hamish is the only person she speaks -- or writes -- to. He's the only person she's never afraid to spill all her secrets to.

"If you got invited to join a secret society that could possibly be a cult of murderers, would you do it?" "What do they offer, though?" "Free drinks and magic." "I'd say go for it."

Hamish thinks it's a joke and Vera knows a 14 year old kid isn't gonna know any better but she listens to him anyway and powers through initiation, catching the eyes of her Temple Magus and the then Grand Magus.

"Hey, remember that cult I was telling you about? I accidentally got the leader killed but I got a promotion." "I'm so proud of you! Hey, what do you think about law school?" "Absolutely not." "For me?" "Oh. Go for it. I believe in you."

And it's that message from Vera that makes Hamish push through his first year at Belgrave, despite being turned into a werewolf somewhere in the third month.

Vera is the most respected Adeptii in the entire Order. She has her eyes set on Temple Magus. Most would think she was after power, but Vera just wants to set things straight. She just wants to make the Order everything it promises to be.

She's staying late at the temple one night. She feels a light tapping on her arm and rolls up her sleeves. Had she imagined it or was she starting to feel her soulmate's thinking stage?

"Remember that girl I told you about from that club I joined?" "Yeah. Did you finally ask her to be your girlfriend?"

Vera's teasing smile vanishes when she sees "she's dead" printed on her arm. The ink starts to run. She knows he's crying. She waves her hand over her arm and the ink vanishes. If he notices and asks her about the sudden disappearance, she'll say it was just a wet cloth.

"Do you want to talk about it or do you want me to distract you?" There is a long pause and Vera feels her heart beat faster. He wouldn't do anything irrational, right? "Distract me, please."

Vera tells him all about her day. She tells him how she's mastering all the skills the cult (she only ever calls it a cult on her arm) requires and she's almost at the top of the food chain. She tells him she wants to get a job at the university and she tells him she's afraid she won't be able to make a change in the world.

Despite his grief, Hamish manages to slowly write to Vera how he truly believes in her and that he knows she can do anything she puts her mind to.

Years pass. Hamish tells Vera about two new family members he's found. Vera tells Hamish about how she's got the job of her dreams. Hamish tells Vera that if they met by chance one day, he'd ring her into the family. Vera tells Hamish that she would induct him into her cult. They laugh but still, they don't reveal themselves. The anonymity of it gives them a sense of security and strangely enough, safety.

With the entrance of Jack Morton comes a whirlwind of drama and action to both of them. Their stories are filled with tales of this new member and all the strange things he does.

"I'm his boss! I'm his boss and he just does not listen to a word I say! Today, I found out he's been practicing skills only for professionals. It's like giving a kid a gun for a pinata. He is driving me insane."

"You're telling me. Our 'gender-neutral collective's new member is having a severe mental breakdown and I'm pretty sure I saw him talking to a coat rack earlier. I gave him a drink and he took it like a shot so I gave him a shot to see what he'd do and. He. Sipped. At. It."

Neither of them are aware that they're talking about the same person.

"I think I have a soft spot for the screw-up."

"I know the feeling, we call ours the family screw-up. Affectionately, of course."

"Of course."

After the burning of the Vade Maecum, Vera lies awake in bed, unable to find rest. So she grabs her marker, only to find a message waiting for her.

"Dear Diary, today I met a girl unlike any other. She's sharp, strong, brave and powerful. She reminds me of you. She helped me defend my dumbass family from some pretentious assholes. Honestly, she's a force of nature on her own. I wouldn't want her to hate me because I'm pretty sure she'd kill me if she did."

Vera smiles. "Sounds like someone has a crush."

"Gross, don't be so middle school."

Vera manages to find peaceful rest after a few more minutes of talking.

A few days later, Vera asks about the girl. "What girl?" "Nothing. How was your day?"

Vera doesn't understand why she no longer hears stories about the family of oddballs.

Vera doesn't make the connection.

She tells him she's head of the cult. Hamish draws party streamers and balloons. They're absolutely terrible but they make Vera laugh. "I'm proud of you." "Thank you."

"Dear diary, today I joined a secret club." "What, like a book club?" "Well . . . there are a lot of books here."

Vera finds a welcome sense of familairty and faintly, home, when the stories start pouring in about the family again.

"So today I had to pull a thorn out of a baby's foot. Said baby is turning 19 this year."

"Oh, you poor soul. A couple of new members drank the entire cult's worth of booze last night. Who even drinks that much and can still walk well enough to leave?" Hamish thinks about the welcome party at the temple. "You'd be surprised."

"I almost died today." For a second, neither of them realise they've written the same sentence. They make the connection to Belgrave and Rogwan. Neither are sure that other is saying that because they met the demon and did stupidly dangerous things or because they knew about the Excidium. Neither asks that question. "I almost died today and one of the biggest regrets I would've had was that I never got to see the face behind all the stories I've come to adore." "I know." "We should try to find each other." "We should."

But they don't. Anonymity protects them, it keeps them safe and it keeps their soulmates away from the dangers of the Order and the Knights -- so they think.

Instead, Hamish talks about losing Lilith. He calls her his feisty, brash, smart and loving little sister. He cries. Vera watches the ink run. Vera thinks about Lilith, about the sacrifice she made so that the Vera wouldn't perform the Excidium. Vera's sure that Lilith didn't do it for her or for Belgrave, but for the Knight down in the corridor with her and the knights running around Belgrave with no fear. Regardless, Lilith is what stopped the Excidium and a great deal of people owe her their lives -- Vera included. Vera thinks about Jack watching the portal swallow Lilith up whole. Vera thinks about Hamish having to carry her loss. Vera thinks about Randall having to soldier on without one of the few people who have never judged him about anything. The ink runs on their arms, but not just from Hamish's tears.

Late one night, Hamish can't sleep and watches the words write themselves om his arm. "I thought about her today. But it was so so powerful. Like being physically hit with those memories. You'd think by now I'd have come to terms with it--" "You can't keep blaming yourself." "Knowing that doesn't change the fact that I do and I will." "I know. Do you want to talk about her?" And Vera talks about her daughter until she falls asleep. Hamish reads the words filled with love and loss and adoration and joy until he falls asleep too.

When Foley and Salvador attack, behind thinking about what the hell will happen to the Knights and the Order without them, Vera and Hamish keep hoping that their soulmate doesn't start panicking. Vera recovers from Foley first and leaves a message. She needs someone to talk to, someone who won't feel the consequences of knowing and someone she knows will never turn her weaknesses against her. Hours later, she tries again when there's no response. As time ticks by, she starts getting restless. Not only is Hamish missing, but now so is her soulmate.

Once Jack and Randall break Hamish out, to keep himself from storming up and tearing Foley apart, he lifts his sleeve. Shit. "Randall do you have a pen?"

"Why would I have a -- yeah, okay, I do. Here."

"Sorry," he writes, "got a little held up and I lost my marker. Are you okay?"

Vera is slightly relieved. One of them is okay. But Hamish is still missing. "Waiting on someone. He's not supposed to be gone this long."

In her worrisome state, Vera doesn't notice that the pen ink is vanishing just as fast as thr washable marker. If she had been paying it any attention, she would have come to the conclusion that Order member or not, her soulmate was a practitioner.

"Is everyone okay?" She stares at Hamish, relief flooding her body. Damnit, she wasn't supposed to get attached to someone. She didn't think she could do that. But what was there to do now?

"Hey, I've got something to tell you." "Go on." "Remember that girl I told you about last year?" "Yes." "I think" Vera waits for the rest of the sentence. "You think?" "I really like her."

Vers suddenly doesn't feel guilty about Hamish anymore. She sits up in her bed. "Tell me all about her." "You sure you won't get jealous?" Vera laughs to herself. "I won't if you don't." "Oh! Someone has a new boyfriend!" "Maybe. Now tell me about this girl."

And Hamish starts. And Hamish cannot stop. Vera's watched his wipe his arm already three times and he still hasn't stopped. When he pauses, Vera takes the chance to write "You don't like her." "I do, though." "No, you don't. You LOOOVE her!" Vera can't shake the image that if they were sitting together and speaking, she would have sprinted away by now to avoid the attacks her teasing would bring. It makes her smile.

"Shut up! Tell me about your new boyfriend." "He's not my boyfriend." "Yet." Vera pauses. "We'll see." "Tell me about him."

Vera starts. And Vera cannot stop. Hamish watches the words appear and can't help falling in love with the way she loves this man. "Someone's in luuurve!" "Am not." "Are too." "Whatever."

He thinks about Vera. You don't like her, you love her. Maybe. Yeah, maybe he does.

"I lost her. I could've helped her and I didn't." "I don't think there was anything you could've done more. You said she was attacked." "I drove her away. I pushed her into leaving the one place that could've prevented the attack. And I couldn't save her. I just I can't keep losing people. This cult is poison. I thought I could make it better. I thought I could take it by the reigns and guide it. Instead I keep getting the younger ones killed." "It's not your fault." "I could honestly really use a drink right now but I already sent the boyfriend home. He's gone some stuff to deal with too. His family is . . . hinging on broken."

Vera wonders if he fell asleep when there's no response. She lays her head on her upper arm, looking at the words on her forearm. And then they vanish. Like . . . like magic. How the hell had she never noticed before?? Very slowly, new letters form

V . . . e . . . r . . . a . . . ?

Vera shoots up and sits straight, holding her arm. What the fuck? What the fuck did I say that gave me away?? And who the fuck knows me well enough to figure me out based on something I said??

Vera is grateful for the distraction her phone brings as it lights up with a text -- from Hamish. "I heard you could use a drink."

Vera tiptoes downstairs warily, relieved to find Hamish behind her counter with a drink in front of him. A drink for her.

"I thought I sent you to the den. The knights--"

"Are all asleep. You, on the other hand, aren't."

Vera takes a seat at the counter, hands around the glass. As Hamish tidies up, she catches sight of his bare forearm, where her name is written in the same hand writing as on her own arm. When his back is turned, she uncaps the marker and writes, Hamish?

He laughs softly to himself. Then, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"About what?"

"Alyssa."

"Do you want to talk about Lilith?"

"You're right, a distraction would be better."

And distract each other, they did.

I might write this one out oop

See other soulmate aus I've attacked

[crazylittlethingy]

He loves me (Part 3)

abusive!dabi x reader (eventually x hawks)

a/n: I’m focusing in the reader and hawks’ early friendship in this one, don’t worry, next part I’ll give you some dabi *wink wink*

Part 1 - Part 2

It had been three months since classes started and you forgot why you were so scared of high school. Yeah, UA was tough, with intense physical and intelectual activities, you got home tired most of the time and your already limited time with your parents grew even more limited and you found yourself arguing with them more often, if you are tired enough on that day. You’d usually apologize through movie nights on Sunday. In the beginning no one would say anything, but, as the movie goes on, comments would be made, songs would be sang and laughs would be laughed.

You could also feel yourself becoming stronger. You liked your quirk quite a lot, it would take you and Touya away from trouble when you were little, and, nowadays, it symbolized a ticket to a good hero agency. Before UA, you could only open one portal for about 20 to 30 seconds before feeling a splitting headache that would take you close to passing out. Three months into the course, after training hard in and out of school grounds on weekdays (because even you knew rest is needed to archive a goal), you were able to open one portal for a whole minute or two portals for 30 seconds and you also had a better idea on how to use them on a battleground, teleporting and punching someone, kicking, taking your allies out of the way. But the best thing about training was seeing Keigo in action.

It turns out he wasn’t that bad.

In the time you spent together you came to the conclusion that he’d always seemed to try and give you a reason to smile. It was true that he still was convinced of his “godlike appearance and personality” and knew way too many cheesy pickup lines for his own good, but they were funny and you were getting used to it all, it became a constant form of comfort and calmness in the middle of a growing pile of undone homework and assignments. And, besides, he was genuinely a good friend, listening to complains and to what you were currently obsessing with, showing himself to be an openminded learner, as you discovered when he, willingly, let you make him watch all 8 Harry Potter movies. He was definitely a Gryffindor in your eyes. 

You also learned a lot about him. I mean, nothing related to his personal life apparently, but you knew that he loves fried chicken (even if it sounded a damn lot like cannibalism to you), how he twisted his pen around his fingers when he was concentrated in an assignment, how he’d bite his lip if he had a “brilliant” idea of a place to go or something to do on a Saturday afternoon, how he’d throw his head back and put a hand on his stomach if something was truly funny to him and how he’d roll his shoulders twice and turn his head a little to the left a moment before he took flight.

Oh and how beautiful he looked when he flied.

Keigo seemed fine in any space, a true social butterfly bird, but the only moment he was truly in his element was when he was in the sky. On the ground, he’d be smirking, confident of who he was, but as he cut through the air he didn’t have to worry about who he was or what his obligations were, he’d be free from anything and everything, and that made him smile, which, in turn, would make you smile. What a beautiful friendship am I right?

Thinking about all that made you sigh.

“Good morning, princess~” another day, the same cheesy nickname he gave you. 

You rolled your eyes and buried your face in your arms, letting out a frustrated scream like thing.

“Woah I can’t see you in the weekend this one time and you already missed me this much?” You weren’t looking at him, but you could imagine his infuriating smirk as clear as the day outside the classroom you were siting in… very stifled… because the chair isn’t comfortable… at all.

“Because you are the only source of happiness in my life” how could you not exaggeratedly roll your eyes?

“I know” you still hated that smirk (and how good he looked) for the record.

Another frustrated groan. “My parents spent most of Saturday away because their boss had an emergency or something and, on Sunday, they let all their frustration on me through screaming contest, very pleasing to the neighbors let me tell yah. But I also watched this really good series on Netflix about a girl who just lost her dad and discovers she has a telepathic quirk in a world where no one has quirks”

“It sounds like a really sad reality”

You give a sad laugh and look at the window and what it’s beyond it. “It does.” And for a second there, when he’s quiet for longer than the usual 2 seconds, you turn around to face him and there is something in his eyes you can’t understand, for once you don’t see him smile or smirk.

“Well, worry not, my lady, for I, Takami Keigo, swear on your mother’s cake that I’ll never let you go through anything bad alone” he made this whole really exaggerated curtesy and the smirk was back. How could you not laugh and smile heartedly?

“Thank you so much, kind sire. But where were you this weekend? And why do you swear on my mother’s cake of all things?” You question, still smiling, in your most pompous voice, but you were also worried, Keigo never missed one of your Saturdays, it was the only day your parents allowed you to have friends around or to go around.

Even with his head bowed, you saw how his expression fell a little bit. “I had something to deal with.” He sounded serious, his voice lower than you ever heard. “And your mother’s cake is the best cake ever, so I can’t bear to lose it.” With that wink, his cheerful tone was back.

“Keigo-“ “Okay, everyone, I don’t want to hear anymore giggles, whispers, gossips and jokes whatsoever. Is time for class.” As the teacher entered the classroom, interrupting any and all conversations. Keigo sat down by your side. You spent a few seconds looking at him, as if the answer to his behavior would be found in his blond hair. When he turned and caught your eye, his eyebrows making their way up and down as if he was trying to be suggestive. You gave him the finger and he laughed, you felt your cheeks become warm and you turned to try and pay attention to your first (and very boring) class of the day.

Lunch time is the best and the worst. It was too noisy for your liking on some days, but sometimes you were part of that noise, like today.

“Shut up Keigo” you were laughing so loudly your belly was hurting. “I’m trying to eat!” “When I say funny things you look at me with murder in your eyes, but if I make a shitty pun you almost die of laughing?” He sounded bashful but he was smiling warmly, not that you noticed, as you were too busy trying not to cry out from the momentarily joy the pun brought you.

“Excuse me if I think your normal jokes are the real ‘shitty thing’, I do tend to enjoy puns more, they are witty” You said as you finally caught your breath and dived into the cafeteria food.

“Excuse you, I’m funny” you just rolled your eyes at that, something you do quite a lot, actually.

Things were usually like this, you two would be eating and telling some shitty jokes or puns, complaining about training and assignments and judging your colleagues decisions in life, such as dating the school resident jerk or eating broccoli when pizza sounded like a better option. Everyday, you’d be joined by a girl and a boy from your class. The girl was really outgoing and smart, you two became friends over ‘nerdy things’, as Keigo liked to call your obsession with Supernatural and Doctor Who. The boy, on the other hand, was under Keigo’s wing, he was shy and reserved but also smart (as everyone in the best high school of Japan seemed to be) and he’d often make some comments under his breath when he thought no one was listening. Now those were funny and made you make an effort to pay attention to him at all times so you can get that little glimpse of his true self. 

“You won’t believe what I just heard” Naomi, the girl, came jumping around to the table. You liked to think she saw you as a good and trustworthy friend.

“How is it possible you already have gossips when people are still getting to know each other?” Ren, the boy, questioned quietly. Naomi didn’t seem to pay him attention, but you offered him a smile as if to say you thought the same. He turned almost as red as Keigo’s wings.

Even if you and Naomi were somewhat friends, she and Keigo had a gossip connection, knowing everything about everyone and their parents, so he was always the most excited when Naomi came jumping around the room, you’d take the time to stay in silence or making awkward conversation with Ren. 

“Spill the tea girl” Keigo offered his best American accent, mimicking a slang he read somewhere. You were almost sure he ran a blog in one of those American’s websites to talk about celebrities life’s… or Endeavor, he liked that guy more than you think he should.

“Weeeeelllll do you know who Kanami is?” Naomi’s face made you remember the Cheshire Cat.

“Isn’t she the girl whose cousin dates the most popular guy in school” Keigo, in turn, made you think of a curious Alice arriving in Wonderland.

“Yep. Apparently she told her cousin Hiro had called the house they live in cancelling their date, which her cousin totally believed, and she, Kanami, went on the date instead saying her cousin was sick! Now, this was two weeks ago and the cousin found out and they were just fighting in the corridor, quirks and all!” Naomi made extravagant gestures while telling the facts.

“What! No way! Are they still there?” Keigo was getting up.

“No, sadly, the principal arrived there as we made our way here” Both teens now looked like a balloon that lost all air.

“It almost seems like you guys are disappointed no one died fighting over a guy” Ren’s observation came as silently as the summer breeze.

“Chicken Little over there eats his fellow chickens as lunch and you think he’d have sympathy for teenage girls fighting over their first ‘love’?” You replied as you cut your meat (or tofu or salad if you are vegetarian/vegan).

When the bell rang once again and you could feel the despair of all the students’ souls, Naomi’s voice came chirping again.

“Why don’t we go out after school today?” 

“Yeah, sure, why not?” 

Smiling like a fool just at the thought of spending the day with your friends, the rest of the day seemed promising.

Keigo’s laugh was probably heard a mile away from where you guys were. Naomi was telling some of her best embarrassing stories as a ‘get to know each other exercise’ because ‘there is still a lot you don’t know about each other’ and it was nice. I mean, you didn’t feel like telling your early teenage embarrassing moments, but the kid ones were ok, seeing your three friends laughing warmly made you feel like you belonged in that second, in that place, with those people. Last time you felt like that was before Touya disappeared.

Yet, here you were, able to be carefree, feeling the wind in your hair, under a cloudless sky, surrounded by people who wouldn’t leave you.

But you felt strange. The tip of your fingers felt a little numb and there was this shiver making its way down your spine. Someone was watching you. That thought made you stop and look around. And there you saw it, Hades’ flames all over again.

There is this thing about knowing someone since you were little: it doesn’t matter how long you are apart, it doesn’t matter if the friendship is over, if it was interrupted, there was always this ongoing familiarity in them, no matter how much both of you change.

He was just standing there, looking at you. Blue against (e/c). He was wearing a black windbreaker and black jeans, his hair the color of a corrupted soul, so different from the ruby red (and later snowy white) you were used to. He aged, obviously, his features more mature and you wondered how sharp his jawline would be, but nothing, not even the piercings he wore on his nose and lip, no hair dye, no amount of clothing or scars, nothing would make those flaming blue lights loose their intense gaze and color. (I mean, yeah, contacts would do it but he wasn’t wearing them okay?)

“(Y/n)? Are you alright?” Keigo’s voice startled you, making you look at him and realize he and the others were some feet ahead of you.

“Yeah, no, I’m fine, I just have something to deal with and then I’ll meet you guys at the mall.” You did your best to show your most convincing smile, yet Keigo still looked worried at you. “I really am fine Keigo, for this once I guarantee you don’t have to worry.” You spoke seriously and he seemed to trust you, he gave one look behind you and decided to keep going.

As you got closer to the not so strange stranger, you noticed how a half smile grew at each step you took. When you were close enough to see the daylight reflected in his eyes you spoke in a whisper, like the word alone would be able to make him vanish, like it’d break you all over again.

“Touya?”

“Not anymore, love.”

Part 4

Taglist:

@aly-insanity​

@a-typical-antisocial-fangirl​

@memekingofwwiii​

@axerrri​

@elizabeththe3third​

[sunsetsinhoenn]

hello! can i please have a dad!aizawa x mom!reader and their kid on an amusement park? thank you!

oof. aizawa might be a bit ooc but i had a tough time writing because of how i started this out. just in case it isn’t clear, (d/n) = daughter’s name. It takes me forever to come up with names because I’m super picky with them and I personally don’t like it when a name is chosen when I read a scenario like this, so i was just thinking on what I’d personally prefer. 

scenario _ Aizawa Shouta

“Do you think that we should really go on that ride? It seems a little…” Aizawa trailed off, peering at the huge roller coaster displayed before the three of you. As one of the cars raced by high above, his hair and clothing ruffled in the wind that carried from it. There were many words he could choose from, but in the end, he decided on one. “Fast.”

The screams coming from the passengers implied that it was as extreme as the ride’s information said it was. Turning his head away from the behemoth, he saw the entrance to what looked like might be a cute boat ride. His suspicions were confirmed when he saw several families walk in with little toddlers, so he pointed at it, prompting you and your daughter to look.

“Why not that ride, (d/n)? Doesn’t that look like it might be more interesting?”

“Maybe later, Daddy! I want to go on this one now, though!” She hopped on her two feet excitedly, tugging on his arm. When more people walked past you and into the line’s entrance, she hopped faster and tugged a little more desperately. “The line’s getting loooongeeeeer.”

He sighed. Of all things, she had to be excited to go on the high-speed one.

“Come on, I’m sure it’ll be fun. This is a highly esteemed theme park. The workers will make sure we’ll be safe, they know what they’re doing.” Your voice sounded encouraging, but he could tell you were one second away from making a teasing remark.

“I know that.” You gripped his shoulder, rubbing it in an effort to maybe ease any tension out.

“Oh yeah? Well, I didn’t think you’d be hesitant to go on this, Aizawa. You can face villains but not a roller coaster ride? What’s up with that?” He turned his head to glare at you, which only made your smile grow wider.

“I don’t want to chase an adrenaline rush when I don’t have to.” As he bonked you on the head for your comment, he heard (d/n) let out a whine from next to him.

“Daaaaad, pleeeease.” He sighed again. “DadIwannagoontherideitlookssofunpleaselet’sgoIwannagoon-“

Gripping her hand, he began walking to the entrance.

“Let’s go, then.”

❅ ❅ ❅

“For the record, I was not afraid to go on that roller coaster earlier. Is it so much to want to relax on a vacation? That’s all I wanted.”

“And why are you mentioning that now?”

“Yeah, I don’t get it.” (d/n) chomped on her fork, eating her meal happily. She moved idly, her feet swinging underneath her chair. “We’re relaxing now, right? That was also, like… a million hours ago.”

“Don’t chew with your mouth open, please.” She nodded, grabbing another forkful of food. “And I’m mentioning it now because I didn’t really get the chance to earlier.”

“When you have a nine-year-old dragging you to different places all day, you don’t really have a moment to breathe.” You added, eyes wandering off to your child, who still seemed to have a lot more energy to spare despite the fact that all three of you got up earlier than usual. It was now dinnertime and she didn’t seem like she’d stop soon. 

You suddenly felt the same as Aizawa and hoped that your daughter would want to call it quits soon. Maybe after the fireworks? You locked eyes with your husband and you knew the two of you were thinking the same thing. 

❅ ❅ ❅

As the sun set beyond the horizon, the three of you continued to walk around the park, going from destination to destination. The only solace you could take in was the thought of waiting in a long line, still standing but no longer moving. Whatever happened to your stamina after the two of you became parents made it dwindle drastically, apparently.

“Oh, look at those light up wands! Can I have one? Please!”

The three of you stopped at the cart that appeared at nightfall, looking over at all of the different assortments of light-up toys.

“Yeah, you can pick out two if you want.”

“Thanks, Dad- WHAT! Two?!”

“Two.”

“I should get a necklace too, then! Or maybe a crown? Oh, there’s a big hat too! And a balloon. Although, that may be too annoying to carry… Hm…”

You couldn’t help but laugh at how your child’s personality contrasted with your husband’s. 

❅ ❅ ❅

The fireworks erupted loudly around you and everyone else in the crowd, but despite all of that you could still hear the sounds of your daughter’s laughter as she sat on top of Aizawa’s shoulders. With all the colors popping up and lighting up the dark sky, you were glad that she could see such a beautiful moment. It was the perfect way to end the day.

You saddled up closer to your husband’s side, his arm moving from holding (d/n)’s leg to wrapping around your side. You continued to enjoy the fireworks. 

❅ ❅ ❅

“I’m glad we came today. It was nice to get away from life for a second.” You whispered to Aizawa, as you drove home. Your daughter slept peacefully in the backseat, having nodded off the moment you all left the parking lot.

“I’m glad we did too, even if it’s not exactly my cup of tea.”

“No, it might not be your idea of fun. But you have fun when the people you love have fun.”

“I suppose.” You laughed lightly, knowing he was teasing even when his tone of voice hardly changed. You leaned over in the car and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you.”

[desperationandgin]

Mending Hearts (Post-Faith canon fic)

Rating: General Audiences

Author: desperationandgin

Also Read On: AO3

Summary:  Jamie and Claire return to Lallybroch and finally discuss what happened in France.

A/N: Today is Fanfiction Authors Appreciation Day and I didn't know how else to say thanks for even making me an author. Without readers there'd be no point to this. You all who take the time to read, comment, and leave kudos mean everything to me <3 One final note: this is strictly based on show canon; I know information was presented to Jamie while in the Bastille in the book, but the show didn't even give us that, so I tried to toss my hat into the ring for what might have happened at Lallybroch. Happy reading!

I couldn’t help my blinding jealousy at the new life I held cradled in my arms. Evey common and bitter refrain played across my mind like a recording I couldn’t shut off.

It isn’t fair.

I should have a newborn.

This should be my daughter in my arms.

My daughter lies buried in France, and each child here is a reminder of the failure to bring my own into the world properly.

I had to excuse myself from the living room, where all had gathered after supper to sit and have a dram while reading aloud from the Bible. (A tradition started by Ellen herself, as a way to get through the most boring part of being God-fearing.) When Jamie half-rose as I stood, I strategically handed the content and sleeping babe in my arms to my husband, then moved out of the room quickly, climbing the stairs to our own private space.

By the time Jamie arrived behind me, I’d removed everything down to my shift, let down my hair, and crawled into bed. I lay tightly curled on my side, back to the door, and prayed he wouldn’t attempt to speak with me.

I should have known better.

First, he sat by the fire, unbuckling his boots and then removing his stockings. For a dozen and a half heartbeats, he stayed sitting, then stood and removed his vest, then his kilt. It was five heartbeats more before I heard him move to my side of the bed. My eyes opened as he kneeled, and while I was expecting a certain amount of gentleness in his expression (and wasn’t disappointed), I didn’t expect the way barely checked tears made the rim of his eyes red.

“Are ye alright, mo nighean donn?”

I wet my lips — slightly chapped from sitting in the sun too long and not hydrating properly — and went with the truth this time.

“No, I’m not.”

I couldn’t tell if he looked grateful for my honesty or utterly destroyed by it.

“I ken, mo chridhe. I ken ye hurt and there’s no’ a way to fix it.”

My own tears began to blur my vision. “No. There isn’t.” I wet my lips once again as a tear rolled down my cheek. “Our daughter should be here, with us.”

Jamie’s head bowed, and he nodded while looking down at the ground. “Aye. Aye, I wish she were buried here as well. At home.”

I pushed myself upright, staring at him. “I meant alive. Our daughter should be here, in my arms, alive and whole.”

He paled as he realized his mistake. “Forgive me, Sassenach, I didna mean—”

“It’s fine,” I whispered, swallowing heavily and finally breaking my intense stare. “I know that isn’t what you meant.”

Tentatively, he stood and relocated himself to the bed, sitting beside me. “I wish for her to be here every day, Claire. Do ye not know that?”

My heart felt as though it’d grown claws and was attempting to dig its way out of my chest. “Of course I know, Jamie.”

“And do ye ken that I would give anythin’ to change it, to keep her—”

I cut him off this time. “I know.”

“Then why won’t ye speak of her wi’ me?”

His question hung in the air like an over-inflated balloon.

“You’re so angry, Sassenach. But ye willna talk to me.”

Those words were the arrow.

“I’m not angry, I’m…” I sputtered for the words, my frustration at being ineloquent at an inopportune moment making it all the worse. “I would have gladly burned to death from the fever!” When my words came, they were louder than I meant for them to be, and then they continued to spill. “I was alone, Jamie. Our daughter was born already gone, and I was alone. I was dying, terrified, without you.” I’d had Mother Hildegard, the other Sisters, but they weren’t who I’d wanted. “I was given Last Rites, for Christ’s sake, Jamie, and I didn’t—” I broke off, forcing my next words out, even though they felt as though they burned on the way up. “At the very least, I would have been with our daughter again.”

There it was, then. I’d wanted to die and just admitted it to my husband. When I finally found the courage to look at him, he was pale as a sheet, eyes blown wide, and the expression was enough that it brought me back down from an emotional high.

“Jamie?”

He swallowed, eyes focusing a bit before blinking and looking at me. “I didna ken,” he weakly rasped.

“You didn’t know what?”

As soon as the question left my mouth, I realized. He hadn’t known I’d nearly died. He’d known, or at least realized the miscarriage happened, easily enough. But prior to going to the King, prior to realizing I was to blame, after all, I hadn’t bothered to write him, and then he was simply home again and I’d never spoken of it. I’d told him of his daughter when he’d asked, but I hadn’t told him anything about my own situation. As I came to the realization and he tried to process the information, silence hung heavily between us.

“What was—what happened to ye?”

I sighed heavily, not in exasperation, but because I knew what this would do to his heart. Another burden to carry, another failure in his own eyes. “It doesn’t matter anymore, Jamie. I’m here. I didn’t die.”

“It matters to me. I need to know, Claire. All of it.”

So I told him. Everything, with the omission of Raymond — only because I still wasn’t sure if he’d truly been there or if I’d hallucinated him; after our encounter in front of the King, I hadn’t seen him again. But everything else, from the way Magnus had held my head in his lap until I passed out in the carriage, to the way Fergus had brushed my hair and slept beside me each night, I told Jamie. By the time I finished, I wasn’t sure he was breathing for how still he was. I didn’t move either, my eyes focused on a point across the room.

Finally, his hand moved to cover mine, and I realized he was shaking. Turning my head to look, the sight of him made my mouth open and close, chin trembling. He was crying, rivers running down his cheeks, and looked the same as he had in the aftermath of the nightmares that used to gut him. He was quiet for several moments before clearing his throat.

“You were alone the day a priest anointed ye to God. I wasna there,” he began, voice breaking as he struggled to continue. “But until a day comes when keeping ye would only bring harm to ye, I swear, I will never let ye be alone again. Where I go, you will go, Sassenach. And where ye need me, ye—” He paused, needing, it seemed, to press a kiss to my knuckles, over my silver ring. “I will never give ye cause to feel alone again.”

There was no need for either of us to apologize for anything beyond this. We’d moved on from whose fault the loss of Faith was and settled on it likely would have happened anyway; miscarriages mean something was wrong. There had to be a reason. Otherwise, it was all God’s fault, and I couldn’t be the one to deliver such a blow to Jamie’s religious beliefs.

Scooting over to make room for him, I carefully laid on my side and Jamie took the invitation to lie beside me. Settling against his chest, I let out a quiet breath and listened to the slow beating of his strong, though battered heart. How much would my husband have to lose in his life?

“I feel as though I’ve let you down.” The whispered confession rose from nowhere, unbidden, a secret that had manifested in my heart weeks ago.

“Ye what, Sassenach?” His voice had a pinched quality to it, as though he were trying to keep his tone in check.

“It’s my body that’s supposed to shield and protect our children until they’re born. I always knew something was wrong with me, Jamie. For the number of times we—I should have been pregnant long before Faith. And now, if I do again, what if—”

He stopped me by sitting up so quickly my head dropped to the mattress, then pulled me up so he could hold my face in his hands.

“Ye just told me that ye nearly died and ye think the only thing that matters to me is whether or not ye can have another bairn?”

I looked at him, able to feel the familiar beginnings of a lump in the back of my throat. My voice grew hoarse with it as I spoke. “You said by the grace of God we might have another. We might not, Jamie. And if we do, I can’t stand the idea of going through this all again.”

“Mo chridhe. Mo chridhe, no. I would never wish to have a bairn over having you. When I saw ye fall, and then I saw the blood, I didna ken if— I knew something bad was happening. It was all I knew. And so, I sat, no’ knowing if ye were alive or if ye’d died.” He pressed a hard kiss to my forehead. “I want a child, Sassenach, but want and need are two verra different things. I need ye to live, do ye understand that? Wi’ out the other half of my heart, I couldna live.”

I wanted desperately to be able to give it to him, all of it.

“You wouldn’t resent me? If I never could give you another?” A living one, this time.

“Ye’ve given me all ye’ll ever need to, Claire, when ye chose me at the stones.”

I looked at him with a broken heart that finally began wanting to piece itself together again.

“I asked you once to come and find me.” I swallowed, searching his eyes with my own. “Will you still?”

Leaning forward until his forehead touched mine, Jamie pressed a kiss to my lips before replying. “I would crawl on my hands and knees through Hell itself to find ye, mo nighean donn.”

When he kissed me, I believed him.