#this world is so beautiful and yet you use it as a salt shaker you put your characters in

[lyss-butterscotch]

What is up with indie games having some of the coolest mechanics ever and then having some of the most facked up mind boggling lore ever

[prettygirl-gabi]

Partners-In-Crime

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Rating: General Audiences

Warning: angst (like very substantial amount), fluff, happy ending

Category:F/M

Fandom: Seventeen (SVT), boyband

Relationships: !idol Mingyu x !idol f reader

Summary: In a whirlwind of fake dating to avoid breached contract lawsuit, Mingyu and Y/n navigate growing feelings, blurring lines between pretend and real.

Trope: Fake dating

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Hiiiii everyone who is reading! Welcome to the ninth installment of my new mini series called "Oi! Not this again!" They do not have to be read together or in order! I hope you all enjoy!

I never really thought I’d find myself in this situation: fake dating one of the hottest idols in South Korea. Yet, here I am, sipping an iced caramel macchiato in a corner cafe, pretending that being next to Mingyu from SEVENTEEN is the most natural thing in the world. In reality, my heart is racing, and not in the good way.

“Y/N, could you, like, pretend to be happy?” Mingyu whispers through a tight smile, his voice barely audible over the ambient music and chatty customers. His dark eyes flicker with a mix of annoyance and desperation.

“I am happy,” I snap quietly, struggling to adjust the fake smile plastered on my face. “Well, as happy as I can be, considering I’m fake dating you.”

A little louder than intended, I notice a few heads turn our way. I can feel the pressure mounting. We’re supposed to be the doting couple everyone envies, yet the tension between us is thicker than the whipped cream on my drink.

His fingers drum impatiently on the table, the dull thud echoing my pounding heart. “This was your idea, remember? To throw off the media frenzy surrounding both of us.”

Sure, using the classic “fake dating” trope to divert media attention seemed brilliant in theory. We both had enough scandals and rumors hovering around us to last a lifetime. Pairing up would squash at least half of them.

Mingyu suddenly leans in, looking intently at the menu stuck between the salt and pepper shakers, but I know he isn’t paying attention to the array of overpriced sandwiches. “Y/N, if we don’t pull this off, Dispatch is going to have a field day. Again.”

I sigh, slumping back in my chair. “I know, I get it. But couldn’t we have found another way?”

He opens his mouth to argue but instead, a genuine laugh escapes his lips. “Like what? Publicly announce we’re focusing on our careers and ask for privacy?” The sarcasm in his voice isn’t lost on me.

“Okay, fair point.” I roll my eyes but can’t help a small smile. “So what’s the plan now, Mr. Perfect?”

His grip tightens on the table edge before he looks up with a smirk. “We’ve got a photoshoot tomorrow morning for a ‘couple’ branding campaign. We just need to act like we’re head-over-heels for each other, got it?”

I groan inwardly. Nothing like forced intimacy to kickstart a beautiful, fake relationship. “This is going to be a disaster.”

“Only if you make it one,” he teases, his smirk widening. He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms smugly. “Or maybe you’re just afraid you’ll actually fall for my irresistible charm?”

I snort. “Keep dreaming, pretty boy.”

==

The next morning arrives faster than I’d like. The cosmetics studio is buzzing with activity. Staff members rush around, juggling makeup palettes and camera equipment, their energy palpable.

“Y/N! Mingyu! Over here!” the director waves us over to a pristine white set, where we’re expected to coo and swoon

“Showtime,” Mingyu whispers in my ear. His peppermint breath sends an involuntary shiver down my spine. This fake boyfriend thing is harder than it looks.

I force a smile, slipping my fingers through his as we pose for the cameras. Each flash feels like a dagger, reminding me this isn’t real. But for the sake of our careers, we plaster on the affection.

“Y/N, could you look at Mingyu like he’s the best thing that ever happened to you?” the photographer instructs, eyes focused behind the lens.

Like he’s the best thing that ever happened to me? Easy. I turn, my gaze softening as if on cue. As much as Mingyu frustrates me, he’s also been my confidant and partner-in-crime through this chaotic idol life. Maybe this won’t be so hard after all.

Mingyu meets my eyes, his expression unexpectedly tender. The lines of his face soften, making the acting feel less like an act.

We’re mid-pose when Mingyu decides to speak. “You know, you’re not as bad at this as I thought you’d be,” he says, his voice just loud enough for me to hear.

I raise an eyebrow, still maintaining my “loving” gaze for the photographer. "What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, nothing. Just that maybe we should fake date more often. You’re adorable when you’re pretending.”

I falter, the smile slipping slightly. “Watch it, Mingyu.”

==

The hours pass and the shoot finally wraps. We receive a round of applause for our “chemistry,” and Mingyu pulls me into a side hug, his hand resting on my shoulder. Pretending becomes so much easier with each click of the camera.

“Good job today,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, tinged with genuine warmth.

For a moment, I almost forget we’re pretending. Almost.

“We pulled it off, didn’t we?” I muse, pressing my temple against his arm briefly before pulling away.

“Yeah,” he admits, his eyes locking onto mine. “We make a pretty good team, Y/N.”

Something in his gaze makes my heart stutter. It feels like he’s trying to say more, like he’s testing unfamiliar waters.

“Yeah, well don’t get used to it. This is still a temporary arrangement.” I remind myself more than him, with a fleeting half-smile.

==

Weeks roll by, and the line between fiction and reality starts to blur. Mingyu and I are inseparable, seen at award shows, interviews, seen leaving our "shared" house, and even the occasional late-night ramen shop. The media loves us. Fans dub us “the power couple of the decade.”

One evening, as we rehearse a choreographed routine for an upcoming awards show performance, the tension boils over. Mingyu’s patience breaks first.

“Y/N, you’re a step behind!” he snaps, frustration evident as he stops mid-spin. “We’ve done this a thousand times, what’s going on with you?”

Anger flares in my chest. “I’m sorry if I'm not perfect like you, okay?”

He throws his hands up in exasperation. “It’s not about being perfect, it’s about working together!”

“You think I don’t know that?!” I shout back, breathless. “This whole thing...it's draining, Mingyu. Maybe fake dating wasn't the best idea after all. Maybe…”

“Maybe what?” he challenges, stepping closer. “Maybe we should just end it? Announce it was all a prank?”

The space between us crackles with unspoken words, and I take a small step back, my chest heaving. “Maybe.”

His eyes search mine, the anger simmering into something else entirely—something raw and real. “And what if I don’t want it to end?”

Time stands still as his words hang in the air. The intensity in his gaze makes my heart race for an entirely different reason.

“What exactly are you saying?” I finally ask, needing clarity even if it feels terrifying.

He takes a deep breath, before lifting my head with his thumb on my chin and two under. “I’m saying...I don’t think this was ever just fake for me. And I don’t want it to be.”

My breath catches. Neither of us moves. The air feels charged and heavy with possibility.

“Me neither,” I admit, my voice barely a whisper, finally understanding the depth of my feelings.

A slow, almost relieved smile spreads across his face, and he reaches for my hand, linking our fingers together much like the first time we “acted” in love. Only now, it feels unforced, genuine.

The journey to real from fake has been messy, fraught with disagreements and tension, but standing here, looking into his eyes, I realize it was worth every moment.

“Looks like we’ve got a new script to follow,” Mingyu murmurs, his thumb caressing the back of my hand.

I smile, leaning into the comforting warmth of his presence. “Yeah, and this time, we don’t have to pretend.”

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‐Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-Gabi✨️🎀

[btsinwonderland]

A Drop of Poison - Ch. 5: Dinner

A Loki fanfiction!

Previous Chapter --- Next Chapter

Full Chapter List

Chapter warnings: bit of self-smut at the end!

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As the stone gargoyle stopped, its last movement echoed through the Headmistress's chambers. At first glance, there was her desk, which seemed more the size of a bed than a table. On it were papers, books, bottles, and a large tray for her mail. Several trinkets and baubles were strewn across the desk, on the edge of which perched a beautiful phoenix bird that idly observed you and Professor Laufeyson enter the room. It ruffled a wing, and a small feather fell to the ground. You walked over to it and the creature raised its head, watching you. You stopped, and it clicked its beak once, as if giving you permission. Its eyes were very much aware and held an aura of deep intelligence. You picked up the feather and observed its gorgeous array of teal and aquamarine with flecks of gold at the tip. Professor Laufeyson smirked at you curiously before moving on.

Behind the Headmistress’s desk was a wall, where paintings of the former heads of Hogwarts hung, along with regional maps and a rather large painting of a giant tree in outer space. The wall blocked off an area of the room where you heard the clinking of plates and cutlery.

“Come in Loki and Freya!” You heard Headmistress Frigga’s voice. Your heart lurched when she said your name. Of course she knew you were there.

You followed Professor Laufeyson into the area behind her office. He took your book, despite your panicked expression, and placed it on a stool. You kept glancing at it as if it might disappear again.

“Don’t worry, it’ll be right here. No books at the dinner table,” he said in a low voice.

You sighed and reluctantly let your eyes wander. There was a beautiful oak table that was covered in glass. The slice of wood underneath had a blue light etched into it with violent streaks. You marvelled at the glow as Headmistress Frigga ushered you to sit down.

“This wood was captured at the moment of a great storm, and the pattern you see here was made by lightning. The light comes from the plasma itself, which has been preserved all these years with a sealing spell.”

You raised your eyebrows as you sat down and traced the rippling light along the glass. “It’s beautiful,” you said.

Professor Laufeyson sat down across from you and smiled at his mother. “Mother, what a pleasure it is to see you. You have not aged a day since I last saw you; your beauty is everlasting.”

“You must think I’m a piece of bread that needs to be buttered so thoroughly, Loki,” she said with a laugh.

He looked away with his mouth in a thin line. You concealed a smile. Perhaps this evening would be less mortifying than you thought.

Headmistress Frigga placed the last of the napkins on the table and looked at her handiwork. “Good, now we just need Thor.”

“Being on time was never his forte,” Professor Laufeyson said, casually picking a piece of lint off his shirt.

At that, heavy footsteps entered the chamber, and Professor Odinson walked in. His face was streaked in dried mud and his hair had chunks of dirt in it.

“Did you get dragged out of a pigsty?” Headmistress Frigga said sternly, waving her wand at him. He was immediately cleaned up as he patted his chest and arms, looking for smudges or marks.

“Thank you, mother,” he said. “No, it was a mess of a practice. The storm is only getting worse. There’s a Gryffindor-Slytherin match coming up this week and I need to get the students ready. The Wilson boy has joined the serpents team as their new seeker, and he’s very good.” He stopped talking once he noticed you and glanced at Professor Laufeyson. “Freya, I did not expect to see you here...at a family dinner.”

Your face warmed up, and you looked down at your plate, searching for the words. Professor Laufeyson interjected. “She’s my guest. A reward, for being such a prize pupil.” You glanced at him and he looked utterly serious.

“Prize pupil, eh?” Professor Odinson said as he sat down beside you. He smelled of earth and soil; a warm sort of scent.

“Well, your brother has deemed her worthy for my cooking at the least, and my dear, I’m not sure if that’s much of a prize,” Headmistress Frigga said as she waved her wand and a heavy looking white dish floated over to the center of the table.

The smell of meat and potatoes filled your nose, and your stomach rumbled loudly. You muttered an embarrassed apology. Professor Odinson laughed and patted your shoulder. “Too busy studying, I see! With that work ethic, you’ll make an excellent auror in no time.”

Headmistress Frigga waved her wand to dish out the stew on everyone’s plate. Professor Laufeyson raised a brow at you. “An auror, is that your goal, Miss Eves?”

You cleared your throat. “Well, I’m not sure. I’m still thinking about what I want to do…”

“Smart girl, there’s still time. You’re so young,” Headmistress Frigga said, as a warm buttered bread roll landed on everyone’s plate.

“It’s just what the ministry needs, more witches and wizards to indoctrinate,” Professor Laufeyson said.

Professor Odinson bit into a buttered roll. “The ministry isn’t indoctrinating anybody, they have rules, Loki. People need rules,” he said, pointing with the half-eaten roll in his hand.

“Now, where’s the fun in that?” he replied, leaning back. He gracefully popped a carrot into his mouth and you could not help but get caught in the subtle movement of his lips. He caught you looking at him and his mouth twitched slightly.

“The world would fall into chaos if we didn’t have any rules,” Professor Odinson said.

Professor Laufeyson smiled mischievously. “Perhaps the world needs a bit of chaos,” he said, eyes flashing.

“It is nice to have you both in the same room again,” Headmistress Frigga said with a gentle smile, looking at both her sons. She sipped a bit of wine and then took a bite of stew. “Oh bother, it seems I’ve forgotten the salt again.”

You continued to eat as they discussed mostly surface topics. Professor Odinson talked about the new Quidditch lineup for every country participating in the world cup this year. Headmistress Frigga mentioned news about the school; they were going to increase security since there were more students found out of bed despite the warnings to stay away from the Forbidden Forest. Professor Laufeyson very sneakily caught your eye and winked as she said this. This caused you to nearly choke on your potatoes and cough rather ungracefully, which earned you a chuckle from Professor Laufeyson.

You ate until you were stuffed and found yourself observing Professor Laufeyson as he talked to his family. He seemed attentive and present, yet there was something about his eyes that seemed distant; almost calculating. What went on in his mind was well beyond your comprehension and so you decided to concentrate on a newly conjured pile of rather delicious looking apple turnovers sitting on the side table.

Everyone had gotten up at this point while Headmistress Frigga cleaned up the dishes. Plates, knives, and forks floated in line into a dish tray, which disappeared with a flick of her wand once it was full. She went around the corner to find her shaker of cinnamon and cayenne for the turnovers while Professor Odinson and Laufeyson went back to the main office area. You wandered over to the wall, away from view, but within earshot.

“Why did you bring Freya here?” Professor Odinson said.

Professor Laufeyson laughed. “Are we having some sort of private meeting to discuss our sinister family affairs? You’ve grown so serious without my presence.”

You heard heavy shuffling of feet; it was Professor Odinson. “That was not of my choice, Loki. You left.”

Professor Laufeyson’s voice went cold. “I left because there was nothing here for me but lies.”

“What about us, your family?”

“What makes us family?”

You waited a few awkward seconds as their conversation went silent. Then Professor Odinson chuckled humorlessly. “This, brother, your contempt makes us family.”

“Turnover?” said Headmistress Frigga, right behind you, and you jumped.

She guided you over to the table where the turnovers were and you saw the phoenix perched beside it, pecking at the large crumbs by its talons. You had not even noticed it come into the room; it’s stealth was admirable. “What a beautiful creature,” you said.

Headmistress Frigga gently pet the top of its head. “Fawkes is bound to die anytime now, she’s been in a dreadful mood lately.” She glanced at you. “Professor Heimdall spoke to me, Freya.”

Your stomach dropped as you realized that the Headmistress must know nearly everything. It would not only be silly to lie to her, but it would be insulting. You decided to be honest. “Professor Heimdall told me that my visions were false.”

“And what do you think?”

You looked back to check if Professor Odinson and Laufeyson were still on the other side of the wall. When you heard their unintelligible voices, you turned back to her and whispered, “they were real.”

She sighed and brushed off some cinnamon from her fingertips. “Professor Heimdall warned you to stay away from Professor Laufeyson, and I’m afraid that I agree with him. My dear, I love my son, but he is a dangerous man now.”

“But, Headmistress, I think I’m getting these visions because I’m supposed to help him.”

Headmistress Frigga crossed her arms and put a hand to her chin. “Puzzling, indeed. You have us, your guides and teachers, telling you one thing. And then, you have your visions, your instincts, telling you the complete opposite.”

“And I don’t know what to do,” you said.

She put her hands on your shoulders and looked at you. Her hair was braided into intricate patterns and on her lips was a soft shade of pink. Just watching her. Anybody could tell that Professor Laufeyson was her son, adopted or not. Every look, every glance; it was just like him, though gentler. “You must do what you think is right. Look inside yourself and see. The trick is that you still might be wrong in the end. But regret comes from empty actions. If you go with a full heart, it will carry you through any circumstances. I cannot tell you which path is the right one, you will have to discover that for yourself.”

Professor Odinson came in and grabbed a turnover from over your shoulder, then popped it into his mouth. “Whatever she’s saying, it’s 100% right.”

Headmistress Frigga laughed. “A mother should be so lucky to have both her sons flatter her so frequently.”

“You will be at the game this Thursday?” Professor Odinson said to you.

“Valkyrie’s first game as captain? I wouldn’t miss it for the world!” You said with a smile.

He smiled. “She’s an excellent Quidditch player, perhaps even better than I was at her age.”

You saved that comment in the back of your mind to tell Valkyrie later. No doubt it would excite her for days on end.

“And where is our Potions master?” Headmistress Frigga said, looking past Professor Odinson.

He looked puzzled and glanced behind him. “He was just behind me,” he said.

Professor Laufeyson came around the corner with your book in his hands. “I was simply admiring our mother’s miniature obelisk collection. What a rarity it is,” he said. “Come now, Miss Eves, the hour grows late and we would not want to get you in trouble.” He handed you your book, and you felt the weight of another book underneath. You glanced at him and he gave you a hard stare. Do not say anything, his eyes seemed to say.

You nodded and turned to thank the Headmistress and Professor Odinson for dinner. She smiled at you. “It was a pleasure to have you, my dear. Remember our talk,” she said, sparing a concerned look at her darker haired son.

Professor Odinson nodded and glanced at his brother with a level of suspicion. He seemed to let it go since he said nothing when you both left. You clutched the books close to your heart as Professor Laufeyson walked with you towards the Hufflepuff common room. When you were far enough away, you looked at the book he had given you. The Writings of Odin Borson.

“These were the journals you’ve been searching for,” you said aloud.

Professor Laufeyson snatched the book from your hands before you could look inside. “They are my father’s journals. I have a right to them,” he said.

“Is that why you had to steal them?” You said and immediately realized that was a mistake.

Suddenly, he pushed you against the wall as he towered over your frame. His hand rested on the stone behind your head and he leaned in. “I have been very kind to you, Miss Eves, though you have been sneaking about the school and breaking the rules. Do not test my patience further.”

You trembled as you took in the entirety of his presence. His scent was a strange but alluring mixture of leather and flora. He enveloped you, and you could barely form coherent thoughts. His grey shirt pulled at the buttons near his chest and you could see the swell of his Adam's apple move as he swallowed. You stared at each other for several seconds. His gaze was intimidating, and yet, you did not want to look away.

He was domineering, but you found your voice. “You only brought me tonight to use me as a distraction, not because I’m a star pupil or because you hate awkward family dinners.”

He actually smiled. “Ah, Miss Eves, you do pleasantly surprise me when you catch on. I’m almost impressed.” He regarded you with a raised brow.

“What are you looking for in Odin’s journals? Is it the blue cube?” You blurted out.

His eyes darkened, and all levity fled. “Where did you hear about that?”

You did not respond, unsure whether to reveal your thoughts to him. He grabbed you by the shoulders and squeezed. “Where did you hear about the Tesseract?” His voice was almost a growl. You placed your hands on his chest, holding him there but not pushing away. He looked at you, eyes blazing with a conflicting sort of passion.

Someone cleared their throat in the hallway. “Is everything alright?” Said a voice just behind you both. It was Professor Fandral with crossed arms. He was glaring at Professor Laufeyson.

“Everything is just fine,” Professor Laufeyson said, not taking his eyes off of you.

“I was asking the student,” he said curtly.

You nodded and slid yourself away from Professor Laufeyson’s side. “Professor Laufeyson was helping me up. I nearly fainted, you see. Thank you, sir!” you said breathlessly, walking away from them, towards the Hufflepuff common room.

You were flustered beyond belief and looked back, seeing Professor Laufeyson regard you once again with a sort of surprise. Perhaps he was not sure why you kept covering for him. Your heart pounded out of your chest, though it was not from fear.

The scent of his body followed you, even if you were no longer close to him. The proximity at which he stood and the feel of his warm chest against your hands...Awakened a desire within that you had never thought about nor dreamed of. He had looked so cross, and though you felt a genuine fear, there was something else. Like a dim lamp across a foggy lake, you felt a part of you grow brighter around him. And tonight, it smoldered.

You returned to your room, burning with a need. It was a need that could not wait. You could not think of anything else but giving in to it. You passed your schoolmates with a subtle hello and goodnight and exhaled in relief to find your bedroom empty.

Hopping into the shower, you scrubbed yourself clean. Upon washing the soap off your body, you ran your hands over your chest and your stomach, in small spirals. You thought about Professor Laufeyson, from his blazing cold eyes to his illuminating smile. It felt so taboo for you to touch yourself, thinking of someone you knew and a part of it felt wrong. But you no longer cared. It was not something you could ignore, at least for tonight. Your body actually ached from the thought of him.

You dried yourself with a fluffy blue towel and slipped on a clean nightgown. It was by no means sexy, but speckled with green and orange dots. However, the cotton rubbed comfortably against your skin.

You checked outside your room for any sign of your elusive roommates. Most students were casually reading or conversing, and so you closed the door, returned to your bed and got under the covers. A deep sigh escaped your lips as you lifted your nightgown and ran your hands over your body. You skimmed your fingers over your thighs as you parted them. Your fingers went down a crooked path to your core and your breath hitched when you discovered how wet you already were.

You ran a thumb down your slit in slow movements, up and down. You imagined Professor Laufeyson’s hands on you. Would his tongue be cool or warm? His tongue ran along your neck in this vision, and he laid over you. He whispered unspeakable things into your ear and slid two fingers inside you. You let out a muffled moan. As your fingers pumped in and out, you envisioned him rubbing his hard body against yours. So close. Your skin heated so quickly. You came to the edge and when you opened your eyes, his name slipped from your lips.

“Loki!” you cried out as you climaxed. You ran your fingers over your slit as the aftershocks receded.

Your eyes closed, and you relaxed into your mattress like a stone. The burning need had been dealt with, but to your dismay, you felt the strong pulse of blood underneath your skin. It wanted more. Your body needed more. Stop it! You told yourself. You pulled down your nightgown roughly and switched off the lamp; frustrated despite pleasing yourself.

You gradually drifted away to sleep and in your dreams, Professor Laufeyson did things you hadn’t dared fantasize about. They were the kind of things that made you want to sleep forever.

[shslfanficreader]

Dreaming of Hope

Requests are open!

Requested: Yes

Warnings: Truly terrible names for children, inaccurate ages and actions for kids probably, not beta read

Word count: 1600+

Ao3 Link

Summary:  The reader and Hajime share a dream of their older selves with kids, but is it really just a dream?

When you had gone to bed last night you weren’t expecting to dream. Or, well, you weren’t expecting to dream that. 

There wasn’t really a beginning to your dream. You were suddenly thrown into this world that was so similar to your reality, but also not. 

It wasn’t unusual for Hajime to be in your dreams, he was the one person who you could always count on, the person you spent all of your time with, the one person that always lay beside you as you drifted off to sleep.

No, Hajime being there wasn’t strange, what was strange was that he looked different, older. Not by much, but his hair was slightly shorter and he had little crinkles at the edges of his eyes that signaled his maturity.

But it was still Hajime. Despite those subtle differences, that was something you would always be able to tell, dream or not. This was the love of your life. He still had the same smile and the same hair. You could tell, because even if it was shorter, it still stuck up at the top of his head, like it always did, no matter what he did to try to tame it.

Another difference in his appearance was the child he was holding, sitting against the side of his hip. She couldn’t have been older than three or four and had big doe eyes and a smile that already mirrored Hajime’s, along with a shock of what was almost the exact same shade of hair. Her hair even stuck up at the top of her head too, only curved over due to the length of it.

He was standing in a kitchen, clearly, from the breakfast bar and sink behind him and the wooden table holding salt and pepper shakers in front of him.

He was swaying side to side and bouncing up onto his toes with every turn, and the little girl giggled and swung her legs out. Hajime let out a small chuckle and started swaying faster until the little girl said, in a high pitched voice “No, Daddy, stop! You’re going to make me dithy!”

Dithy? Oh, dizzy…

Wait.

Daddy? 

Why was this little girl calling Hajime her daddy?

Oh…

Oh. That must be why they looked so alike. Your mind must have concocted a little girl with some of Hajime’s features for your dream. How peculiar.

Hajime grinned at her before saying “Okay sweetheart, no more spinning.”

"Yeah, there better not be any more spinning." You heard it as someone walked into the room. That voice…

Was yours.

When the person with your voice turned around, you didn't know what to think of it. 

That was you. 

Much like dream Hajime, you had only few and slight changes in your appearance. The slightly deeper creases around your mouth and different hairstyle were subtle yet dead giveaways that this 'you' was older than you from your present reality. 

"We don't want her to get sick, do we?" Older you kissed the girl on the forehead as she walked past and directed a smile at Hajime. 

"No!" The young girl's high voice was just a little bit shrill in the otherwise quiet house and she shook her head almost violently back and forth.

Hajime placed her on a chair at the table with a pat on the head. The girl grabbed the salt and pepper shakers and moved them in front of each other and gave them voices. 'Mr. Salt' was apparently mad at 'Mr. Pepper' for tasting 'icky'.

"Where's Nagito?" Hajime asked dream you as he leant on the counter behind him. 

Nagito?

"Just getting dressed. He should be down in a minute."

Hajime nodded.

"Hope!" You said. "Stop. We don't want to get pepper everywhere!" The little girl, Hope, apparently, had gone a bit crazy making the shakers argue and had started shaking them a bit too vigorously. Salt and pepper were all over the table in front of her. 

You took the shakers and placed them back in the middle of the table as Hajime wet a sponge and started wiping away the mess.

Once that job was finished, you grabbed four glasses from the cupboard and Hajime passed you a bottle of orange juice so you could fill the glasses, and then place them in front of four seats around the table. Hajime grabbed one of the glasses and quickly downed half of it. 

Then a boy walked into the room. He was probably about seven. He had the hair sticking up a top his head too, but his eyes were almost identical to yours. 

"Good morning, Nagito!" Dream you said.

"Mornin' mum." The boy responded as he sat down at the table. 

So…

In your dream he was your son. He must be, right? He just called you his mum, so that should be a pretty safe bet. 

"What's for breakfast?" The boy, Nagito, looked between dream you and Hajime as he asked.

"Pancakes!" Hope yelled the word much louder than she needed to.

"No, sweetheart, we had pancakes yesterday. It's either cereal or toast today." Hope's grin turned into a pout as dream you spoke.

"Cereal, please!" Mini Nagito's eyes lit up as he spoke. 

Dream you set bowls and spoons around the table.

"Why am I not surprised?" Hajime passed the boy a box of chocolate flavoured cereal.

"Uhh, because cereal's the best? Choco cereal is, anyway." Nagito poured himself a full bowl.

"Hey, watch it, Mister. Leave some room for milk in that bowl." Hajime took the cereal box from the boy and filled the three other bowls, one with less than the others, presumably for Hope.

You poured milk into two of the bowls, yours and Hope's, and after setting the girls bowl in front of her sat down.

Hajime did the same for himself and Nagito, returning the milk to the fridge and sitting down next to you.

"So," he said after swallowing another mouthful of orange juice. "What did you want to do today?"

In between eating, you said "I don't know. I'm not the one who never gets time off work." You gave him a clearly over the top glare and then smiled at him, shaking your head.

"You could help me make my model plane!" Nagito was apparently very excited about that thought because he yelled it and dropped his spoon into his bowl, milk splashing onto his face.

"Yeah, I'll see what I can do, bud." Hajime said to him before returning his focus to you.

“Yay!” Nagito shoveled a heaped spoonful into his mouth, not bothering to wipe away the milk.

You and Hajime spoke between eating and drinking.

"Maybe we could go out for dinner tonight, just the two of us."

"Hmm… that sounds nice. But what about the kids?"

"I'm sure there'll be someone who can watch 'em." Hajime leaned in to you.

"I guess. As long as it's not Soda, I'll be happy." You grinned at him as you said it, and he did the same in return, both of you thinking of the same situation. It involved a six year old Nagito, a big window, and a wrench.

"Okay, great. I'll ask around and see if anyone can watch them."

"Perfect." You said, and then everyone finished eating in silence.

"Okay, kids, go brush your teeth. Nagito, can you help your sister?" Dream you was apparently an authority in that house, because both kids got up and walked off, Nagito muttering an exasperated "Yes, mum." as he did so.

Dream you and Hajime sat next to each other at the table for a few more moments.

He then grabbed your wrist and said "I hope we can get someone to babysit. It'd be really nice to be with you and just you for once." 

"I hope so too. And you know I'm serious when I say I'm hoping for something." You raised your eyebrows at him and he chuckled in response.

"Yeah. She is a big deal, isn't she?" Hajime looked pointedly at where your daughter previously sat.

"Yeah. Hope always is."

Hajime smiled at your response, the crinkles around his eyes becoming ever so slightly more prominent as the skin there bunched up from his smile.

"Mum! Hope got toothpaste on me again!" 

And the peace was gone, and so was the dream along with it.

-

When you woke up, Hajime was already sitting up alongside you.

"Hey." You sat up so both of your faces were at the same level.

"Hey"

"Whatcha doin'?"

He turned to face you. "Just thinking. Had a bit of a weird dream."

"Oh?" You subconsciously raised your eyebrows. "About what?" 

"Oh, nothing important. It was just nice. You were there. We had kids. We had a house. You were just as beautiful as you are now."

What?

How could that happen? 

"I had the same dream." You barely spoke in a whisper, but he heard you nonetheless.

"What?" He looked at you, shocked.

"I had the same dream."

"That's… confusing. Maybe a little terrifying." When your hand reached his, he let you told it as tight as you wanted.

"What… what do you think it means?"

"I have no idea. I don't usually share dreams with people."

"Do you think it was some kind of vision?" You looked down at your interlocked hands as you spoke, barely audible.

"I don't know." Hajime looked down at the bed sheets in front of him.

"What if… what if it's the future?"

"I don't know." He smiled, seemingly to himself. "I hope it is though."

"Yeah. I hope it comes true." And you really did.

"I hope so too."

“...”

“...”

“We’re not naming our kid after Komaeda, though.”

[muwur]

um!! i want to request a comfort hc/drabble(?) anything !! just 👉👈 can i get hinata n/or tsuki comforting and standing up for their s/o (or friend!) who is non-binary ??

standing up for a non-binary s/o

♡ scenarios ♡ for hinata and tsukishima

gn reader

turned out longer than i intended tHIS IS MY PROBLEM N Y I UPDATE SO SLOW FORGIVE ME FOEFHEFOEFRG but anyway,,,, 2.3k words

a/n: i use primarily they/them as reader’s preferred pronouns in these scenarios, but i wanted to acknowledge that ik some non-binary ppl use other pronouns,  they/he, they/she, or even all pronouns, etc :) reminder to pls be respectful to what people want and use their preferred pronouns!  and pls lmk if i ever offend you bc i don’t want to upset anyone <3

hinata

Just a week ago, you had finally mustered the courage to come out as non-binary to your boyfriend, Hinata. You recalled the rising panic you felt when you were met with silence and the slight widening of his chocolate eyes. However, his initial surprise was quickly replaced with a softness gracing his features. When he gently stroked your cheek and reassured you that nothing would change how he feels about you, you felt your heart melt with relief. You had nothing worry about, after all.

Unfortunately, not everyone could be as accepting as Hinata.

Picking at an array of noodles with a fork, you fixed your sights on the dinner plate before you, trying to ignore a certain gaze threatening to sear your skin. Next to you, Hinata grimaced. Munching on his stir fry and trying to be respectful in front of your family were the only things keeping him from wiping that leer off your aunt’s face. She was blatant in expressing her disapproval, the wrinkles in her face contorting with disgust whenever she so much as looked your way.

After your heart-to-heart with Hinata the other week, you were inspired to come out to your family as well. The news circulated, and though you weren’t expecting everyone to exactly be on board, the reality of disapproval hurt more than you imagined. It was great timing that today happened to be your cousin’s birthday, and you were forced to have dinner with one of your least favorite family members. Luckily, you were allowed to invite Hinata. You couldn’t fathom how your soon-to-be 5-year-old cousin was so kind and polite despite being reared by such a tyrannous mother. ��Your earliest memory of your aunt was when she snatched your favorite toy from your toddler hands. You cried as she yelled at both you and your parents for letting you play with such a “gender-inappropriate” toy.

You knew she wouldn’t let you escape tonight without any offhand comments or dirty looks.

A throat cleared. You tensed in your seat. “Y/n? Dear, could you pass me the salt?”

You dared a glance up at the familiar voice. Your eyes locked with your aunt’s menacing ones briefly before you quietly obliged to her request.

“Thank you,” she said dully, taking the shaker. Sprinkling her meal, she continued to speak with nonchalance. “So, I heard you go by ‘they’ now? What’s wrong with he/she, hm? I mean, that is what you are, and that’s the only thing you should go by.”

Silence. Your parents looked at one another in discomfort, unsure how to respond. Your cousin looked back and forth between you and and your aunt curiously, unaware what was happening. A few more seconds passed by. With a shaky breath, you could only stutter out a timid “I-I--” before your mother cautiously piped up. “Aunt *name*, please, it’s your child’s birthday, let’s save this conversation for another ti--”

A scoff interrupted her. “Easy for you to say. You’ve always been so soft on y/n. Neither of you,” she glared accusingly at your parents, “raised her/him right. Now, look what’s happened. She/he’s gone delusional. How could any of you be okay with this and carry on like normal?”

You could feel yourself holding back tears. You wanted to say something against her, to show her you weren’t afraid of her and didn’t care what she thought. To prove that she didn’t know anything about you. That she had no right to be talking to you like this.

Yet you remained frozen in your seat, unable to speak. Inside, your mind went blank, leaving you defenseless against her hateful tirade.

“If she/he were my daughter/son, I’d set things straight immediately. No more outside communication. Who knows what nonsense they’ve been feeding your child? She/he needs to see a specialist to undo whatever brainwashing has occurred and--”

SCREECH.

Hinata stood in front of his seat, which had slid noisily across the floor when he pushed it back. He was silent, his eyes pointed downward and his two palms pressed on the table. All eyes looked at him with shock, if not a tinge of curiosity.

“Stop saying those things as if you knew one thing about y/n and what they’ve had to go through,” he said in a low voice, teeth clenched.

A challenging arch of the brow replaced your aunt’s initial surprise. “Oh, please. What do you know? You’re just a naive kid like y/n. You don’t understand. You know nothing about the real world and you kids go about life as if you can just do anything. You’re selfish.”

“You’re being selfish for refusing to understand a point of view that you’re not used to. How could you live with yourself knowing that you’re making someone you should care about miserable for the rest of their lives? You have no right to speak as though you know y/n. All you care about is your opinion, regardless of whether or not it’s right, and how you look to other people. What’s wrong with letting y/n make their own decisions? Why invalidate them before even giving them the chance to explain and help you understand? You should think about how you’re acting before trying to teach someone else how they should live.”

The air cracked with silent tension. It was too much. Quickly, you got up and dashed to the front door, unlocking it and stepping outside to breathe in the cool evening air. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you stumbled off the front porch, increasing the distance between yourself and that dinner table.

Your body jolted with shock when you heard a familiar voice out and felt a pair of arms wrap from behind your frame. Hinata was breathing heavily, his rushed voice laced with worry. “I’m sorry for making a scene in front of your family, y/n, but I couldn’t just sit around and let her say whatever she wanted. You don’t deserve that treatment. I don’t regret anything I told her. And if she’s still bothering you, or anyone else for that matter, you bet I’m gonna be there to stick up for you, no matter what.”

Despite the tears that pricked at your eyes, a small smile formed on your lips. Ditching your family dinner, you spent the rest of the evening together seated in a booth at a nearby fast food restaurant, munching on goodies and sharing lighthearted jokes. That night, you were reminded that it didn’t matter what someone like your aunt thought. Those who did matter were the ones who accepted and cared for you--the real you. In the midst of darkness, you found yourself a radiant being who never failed to brighten your day. You didn’t know what you did to deserve Hinata, but you knew he would be by your side through it all. For that, you were grateful.

tsukishima

After a rough week of nonstop work, food delivery, and 1AM espressos, you were relieved Saturday had finally come. Tsukishima, who had come by your home a few times that week to check up on you(r sanity) and drop off some surprise dinners, nagged you to take better care of yourself and offered to treat you to lunch that weekend (after you promised to get a lot of rest when you were finished). When you beat your deadlines early Friday evening, you nearly cried tears of joy and immediately passed out on your bed to catch up on lost sleep.

Saturday reminded you of the beauty of the outside world, much needed after your long week of confinement. Both sun and clouds gathered in the pale blue sky overhead. Warm sunshine freckled your skin while a gentle breeze cooled your temple. Hand in hand, you walked down the block with Tsukishima towards the farmer’s market. Already you could hear the nearby murmurs of a crowd and smell the savory aroma of freshly cooked food. Your stomach grumbled with enthusiasm as you thought about all the delicious choices waiting to be ordered.

Numerous vendors lined up down the street. Smoke arose from hot grills, carrying the scent of various spices through the air. Workers called out to passing customers, offering them samples of their homemade nut butters or showing off their natural, handmade soaps. With a fascinated glint in your eye, you observed each stand you passed by. From Hawaiian poke, grilled paninis, and tacos, to Thai stir fry, barbecue, and shawarma, the options seemed endless. As much as you loved the variety, it made making a decision even more difficult.

“Tsukkiiii,” you said pleadingly, “I don’t know what I want.”

He sighed. “Well, what’s your appetite in the mood for?”

“No clue, that’s why I’m asking.”

When he shot you an annoyed look, you held your hands up. “Hey, I’ve been using my brain way too much this week. I’m tired of thinking. I’m pretty down for anything, to be honest.”

With a shrug, he suggested trying the ramen from a stand several feet away from you both. You happily agreed and dragged the both of you to stand in line. Looking down at your shirt, you pulled on it slightly and adjusted the pin attached close to your collar. It depicted a cartoon cat with a text bubble that said “they/them” to indicate your preferred pronouns (though, in the note above, ik you may have a different combination of preferred pronouns. feel free to just sub in whatever those are into the pin ^-^ ). You recalled how you heart rushed with excitement when you found it in your mailbox that morning.

“You know, you didn’t have to get this for me,” you told your blonde companion as you admired your gift. Hands in his pockets, he gave you another shrug. “I just thought it suited you. Plus, strangers won’t misgender you, anymore.”

“That’s really thoughtful of you, Kei... Thank you, again, really.”

His lips formed into a thin line and he looked off to the side. He muttered a low, “Don’t mention it.” before stepping forward to follow the shortening line. A huff of amusement escaped you in response. You were also taking a step forward when you felt a shove on your left side. Tsukishima caught you mid-stumble, helping you regain your balance and stand upright again. Narrowing his eyes, he looked over at the man who bumped into you. The stranger caught himself from stumbling as well, then scratched the back of his neck in embarrassment.

“Ah, I’m sorry about that young man/woman! I wasn’t looking clearly,” he apologized.

You shook your head in response, offering him a smile. “No worries. I’m glad we’re both okay.”

He was about to laugh in agreement when he noticed the pin attached to your top. His smile vanished and he looked at you quizzically. “Say, what’s that pin you got there?”

“Oh,” you pointed at it. “This? These are my gender pronouns. I go by ‘them/them,’” you announced proudly.

Raising an eyebrow, he asked, “What does that even mean? ‘They/them’ is plural, so doesn’t it make more sense to just go by he/she?” He paused for a few seconds of thought. Then, it clicked. “Is this that ‘gender identity’ bullshit I’ve been hearing about lately?”

Your enthusiasm quickly dissipated. ‘Oh gosh, please don’t tell me that this person’s--’

“Now missy/boy, I don’t know what’s gotten into all your heads, thinking you can just pick and choose whatever or whoever you want to be. What you were born with is who you are. Why can’t people accept that and have to complicate things? It’s biology. I swear, people are just doing this for attention or a trend or whatever--”

“Ahem,” Tsukishima cleared his throat, interrupting the man’s rant. He placed a gentle hand on your shoulder and drew you close against himself. “Perhaps the topic is too complex for your tiny mind to comprehend,” he challenged, his voice dripping with collected hostility. “You should stop going on about things you don’t understand; it makes you look even more ignorant. Now, please, stop bothering my partner before you piss me off more.”

The stranger glared up at Tsukishima, then back at you. Deciding it wasn’t worth a fight, the man scoffed and shoved past your boyfriend;s shoulder, then disappeared into the crowd. Behind you, a kid’s wide eyes looked at Tsukishima with awe. “Wow, that was really cool! You really showed him!”

“Tch, it was nothing,” he responded bashfully. “Can’t let assholes get away with whatever they want.”

15 minutes later and you were both settled in a shady area on a grassy field with ramen bowls in your lap. Your eyes were glued to the ground. Tsukishima waved a hand in front of your face with concern.

“Earth to y/n? You good? You’ve been quiet since we encountered that guy earlier.”

You risked looking up into his eyes, unable to control the stream of tears running down your eyes. Surprised, the blonde placed his hands on the sides of your face and started to wipe your tears off with his thumbs. “I-I’m just, r-really grateful that you,” you choked between sobs, “were here with m-me, today. I d-don’t know what I would’ve done if I was alone.”

You let him wrap his arms around you as you buried your face in his shoulder. He nestled his cheek onto the top of your head and ran a gentle hand up and down your spine. “It’s okay,” he murmured softly. “I won’t let anyone hurt you, anymore. I promise.”

Several minutes later, you pulled away, sniffling and rubbing the remaining tears from your eyes with your forearm. He gave your head a small pat.

gRhhrrhGRH.

“Someone sounds hungry.” You rolled your eyes and swatted his hand off your head.

2 minutes into eating, and you asked (suggestively), “Can we eat from the same bowl and see if we end up connecting noodles?”

“N-No, that’s dumb.” 

“Oh, c’monnnnn~ You know you want to, you’re blushing.”

“I’m not!”

a/n: sry about the weird stomach growl effect LMAO

if you coudlnt tell i was hungry writing this n i miss going out to eat foueherhggu

i hope u enjoyed <3 pls lmk if u would like any changes anon or smth different (liks regular hc’s, etc). have a lovely day n i hope you feel better <3 ill fite anyone who makes u feel bad >:(

[beanst0ck]

omg bby ur requests are open!! yesss i missed ur writing sm can i request some hcs for ukai w a latina s/o?? like she has tanned skin & sum curves and how the karasuno meets her? love u girl <3

i don’t write for ukai but you said tsukishima was ok so i hope you like it 👉👈

whether you’re a new student, transfer student, or whatever, tsukishima probably isn’t gonna notice you at first, sorry :p

don’t get salty tho, i said at first

when he does catch glimpses of you around school, cause let’s face it you’re probably gonna stick out, he’s gonna ask yamaguchi about you

“oh (y/n)? she’s new here, i think she arrived about a week ago.”

tsukishima was kinda shocked that it took him that long to notice you, but he went back to doing his thing

i don’t see him actually going up and talking to you, so let’s say that you two end up working together as partners for a group project

that way he HAS to talk to you and he’ll see just how wonderful you really are, cause let’s face it, you’re wonderful! if anyone disagrees istg ill throw hands

surprise surprise, you two got into a relationship, congrats you lucky son of a-

you don’t know what you love about him.. maybe it’s his sarcastic personality? maybe it’s his height? is it the fact that he’s on the volleyball team? the world may never know let’s be honest who doesn’t love him

tsukishima finds you and your culture very intriguing!

he’ll probably straight up ask you about it too, he’s not gonna tell you why, but it’s pretty obvious it’s because he cares and wants to know more about you :’)

he’ll also do some research!! bc he wants to impress you with how much he knows 😼

teach him your language pls pls pls

if you start talking in another language he’s gonna ask you for a translation

“hm? what does that mean? ahh ok”

totally isn’t taking notes nope no sir

he’ll probably pick up some things from you curse words and use the phrases when he’s yelling at hinata and kageyama bonding with his teammates! such a nice guy

oh the music

he’s definitely gonna wanna know about your music

make a playlist consisting of famous songs from where you’re from and send it to him, trust me, he’ll love you forever

in return he’ll also make you a playlist from some songs he likes :) that’s when you know he’s in deep

if you’re skin is lighter or darker, he’s gonna love you either way, he doesn’t care about looks a king yes we stan ✊

what he’s gonna care about is if you can handle his salty ass attitude

but, if you don’t love how you look, when you’re cuddling and napping together he’s gonna trace your features with his finger and mumble how beautiful you look and how much he loves you 👉👈

you two decide not to go bragging to the whole school just yet that the two of you are together

but tsukishima is so tempted to do just that because he doesn’t like how other people at school look at you

he’s really tempted to grab you by the waist and kiss you infront of everyone to show them that there’s no way in hell they have a chance with you

but he doesn’t because he knows people would ask questions and he would find that extremely annoying yamaguchi knows tho, best friend rights

bby gets a little a lot jelly heuheu

so that means that the volleyball team doesn’t know you’re together

and it’s no surprise that tanaka and nishinoya have noticed you walking around school

one day when he entered the gym to practice, he heard tanaka and nishinoya talking about a new girl

they always do that so he ignored them, until he heard your name

“i swear man, have you SEEN (y/n)?”

“of course ive seen her! ive also seen her coming to our games👁👁”

tsukishima was not happy to find out they were talking about you, but he kept his composure

that is until they commented on how pretty and curvy they thought you were

“it’s not like she’ll pay attention to you guys, she’s already with someone.”

when i tell you nishinoya and tanaka went “what👁👄👁”

“HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT TSUKISHIMA??”

“YEA TELL US!!”

shit tsukishima immediately regretted saying anything at all because now they were bombarding him with questions about you

tsukishima thought he could’ve avoided their questions until yamaGUCCI spoke up

“that’s because (y/n)’s dating tsu-”

crap and he immediately shut up once he felt tsukishima’s glare on him, he had forgotten that it was supposed to be a secret

tsukishima hoped that tanaka and nishinoya didn’t hear yams, but they did

and OH BOY, they were so happy that their tsukishima had finally found someone

so happy in fact, they wanted to meet you! like, right now-

“no”

it went on for a couple of days, every time at practice the team would ask about you

how you were doing, if you were eating well, all that good stuff

now, you already knew tsukishima was on the volleyball team as mentioned before, you’ve gone to their games before but when he told you his team wanted to meet you, you were excited!

you asked to meet his friends and when tsukishima saw your exited face, he couldn’t say no he has a soft spot for you

so you walked with him and yamaguchi to practice and you were kind of nervous

you’ve seen how serious they could be on the court especially that little orange speedy gonzales and ngl, they were kind of scary

yamaguchi reassured you tho, telling you that they were all nice and friendly and that they couldn’t hurt a fly

meanwhile tsukishima was scoffing and calling them all idiots, telling you that there’s nothing to be worried about with them if any of them hurt you they would not live to see tomorrow

when you guys arrived at the gym you saw that they were all waiting for you at the door, literally

kinda felt weird having so many eyes on you, but you couldn’t begin to imagine how they must’ve felt during a game

the whole team was ✨mesmerized✨

they wondered why the hec you chose tsukishima out of all people

like, YOU ARE YOU, so pretty, amazing, wonderful— how did the salt shaker manage to catch your interest?

everyone was especially interested in your culture! they asked you questions a translation to what tsukishima would tell them during practice and you would happily answer all of them!

they wanted to know about your language, food, music, etc

you felt so appreciated :’)

you vibed really well with yachi and kiyoko, they were so nice and beautiful now you guys are best friends

you we’re happily chatting amongst his teammates and tsukishima was lowkey getting jealous he’s used to you giving him most of your attention ok??

daichi and sugawara noticed and told the boys to back off and get back to practice

you observed them and realized that tsukishima’s teammates were really nice people, dedicated and determined

when practice was over they all waved to you and tsukishima goodbye, telling you that you should visit them more often

on your walk home you noticed that tsukishima was a little jealous, so you gently intertwined your fingers with his

“as much as i love your teammates, i love you more :)”

you’re gonna make tsukishima bust an uwu lmao he’s so in love with you, but he won’t say it outloud yet

so instead, he squeezes your hand a little tighter and gives your forehead a little kith, hoping that you’ll realize he’ll love you no matter where you come from

haikyuu mlist

[nanasarea]

VI

𝘗𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘵: In a world where soulmates can visit each other in their dreams and can only remember the dreams once they found each other, what happens when you’re disappointed at the man of your dreams?

𝘎𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦: angst and fluff

𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: reader x Jaemin

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 1.6k

𝘢/𝘯: what I tell ya? what is meant to be is meant to be 😪

𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵  𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵  𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

I  II  III  IV  V  VI VII

Tag list: @keiboo @minavenue

“What’s that noise? It is interrupting my 23 hour beauty sleep.” Mark stretched, complaining at Chenle’s loud music coming from the speakers. “Might wanna try 24.” Chenle said and turned the volume down slightly.

“Haha, very funny.” Mark yawned and got up. “Where’s Jaemin?” He asked once he looked over at the bed opposite hia.

“He got up early and went for a walk. At least that’s what he told me.” Chenle answered as he continued getting ready. “My bet? He went to buy a last-minute costume for tonight. He clearly forgot.” Chenle added.

In another dorm, Renjun was trying to talk me out of going as Pikachu.

“Yes, I know the consequences of my own actions, but in my defence, I don’t care, I look cute.” “I’m not saying you don’t look cute, you do, but-“ “-No buts. All I need now is for Jisung to bring his cousin’s headband, he said I could borrow.” I cut him off and proudly hung up my costume.

“I think this is a bad idea.” Renjun warned. “Then let the universe give me a sign.” I proudly mocked and walked out of the room.

And so, while we were getting ready for the party, Jisung showed up at our dorms with his cousin, Minjung. Renjun was finishing his makeup, Haechan was playing games on his phone while waiting and I was styling my hair. 

“Hey, good news and bad news.” Jisung yelled, walking in.

“Good news first.” Haechan said, not looking up from his phone. 

“Well, we stopped by that boba place on our way here and we got everyone’s faves.” Jisung explained, walking to each one of us and handing us our drinks.

 “I love you.” Renjun said as he sipped on the boba.

“Love you too. Now, bad news is, yn, we couldn’t find your headband.” Jisung said. “Is this a big enough sign?” Renjun asked, looking at me and sassily sipping on his boba. I just rolled my eyes and continued styling my hair.

“This means nothing. Jisung, it’s no big deal. Minjung, thanks anyway.” I said. “It’s gonna take a lot more than a stupid headband to make me stop pursuing Jeno.” I told Renjun and drank my boba.

Once we got to the party, I saw Jeno with his friends. He noticed me and waved for me to come over. “One sec.” I told my friends before walking over towards him. 

“Yn, these are my friends. Yangyang is Brock and Jimin is Misty. Friends, this is Yn. Please behave around them.” Jeno introduced me and smiled.

“Pepper shaker? Really?” Mark asked as they arrived at the party. “What? It was all that was left!” Jaemin answered, grabbing himself a drink, Mark and Chenle soon followed. “Nerd.” Chenle laughed and started exploring the party on his own.

“All I’m saying is that you had so much time, why wait till the last minute?” Mark asked, their long debate starting as Jisung and Minjung stood by a table with drinks and looked around, watching Renjun and Haechan’s drinks as they went to the bathroom.

“The pink cowboy panda has been staring at you for like a solid 4 minutes now.” Minjung said, making Jisung turn his gaze towards the pink cowboy panda, who was in fact checking him out.

“Him? No, obviously not.” Jisung blushed as Minjung rolled her eyes. “Yes, him. You should just go up to him, what’s the worst that could happen?” She asked. “He could be judging me, not checking me out, y’know.” Jisung defended, trying to come up with excuses to not talk to him.

“I have to go to the bathroom, I’ll be right back.” I excused myself and made my way to the bathroom, when I felt someone bump into me, thus spilling their drink on me.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry.” Mark apologised and panicky started looking for napkins. “It’s fine, not the first time I’ve had someone spill something on me this semester.” I laughed it off, not yet realising that my costume has been ruined by wine.

“This semester?” Mark asked, a small laugh escaping his lips. “Yeah, long story.” I said. “I’m Yn.” I introduced myself, sticking my hand out to shake his hand. “Mark.” He shook my hand and tilted his head.

“Wait, Yn? The yn?” “How did you know who I am?” I asked, pulling my hand away slowly. “I’m Jaemin’s friend! He’s told me a lot about you.” He reassured. “Wait Mark? As in the Mark who constantly slaps the back of Jaemin’s head?” I asked, my eyes widening.

“That’s the one!” He said, proudly. “I should not have admitted that with such pride, but since you already know Jaemin, I feel like it's safe to say you understand.” He added, shyly smiling. 

“Yeah, I get that. Also, I have to go change, it was very nice meeting you, totally expected you to be a dick, considering you’re Jaemin’s friend.” I laughed, finally realising that I have to now change costumes.

“Oh totally understandable. It was nice to meet you too! Oh, and enjoy the rest of your party and again, sorry for spilling my drink on you!” Mark said, waving bye as I made my way towards Renjun, who I spotted on my way to the bathroom and asked him for help.

“Big enough sign?” He asked, proudly. “Whatever, just help me.” I said, rolling my eyes as he grabbed my hand and lead me to a room. “I have a friend who lives here and he told me I could store some of my costumes here in case I need to change so….Here! You can be a salt shaker!” Renjun said, searching among the clothes before pulling a  costume out of the closet.  

“Salt? Really? Y’know what, I’m in no position to complain. Thanks. I owe you one.” “Of course you do.” he smiled as I started quickly changing. Once I was done, we went back outside and enjoyed the party, that was until I saw Jaemin, or should I say Pepper.

“Would you look at that? It’s as if we were meant to be together.” Jaemin dramatically sighed, once he noticed me. “Wouldn’t you agree, Yn?” He asked as both him and his friends walked towards me and my friend group. 

“In your dreams, Jaemin. Wait, that was not a good comeback, it is literally in your dreams.” I sighed, very disappointed at my reply.

“Just forget it, your pea sized brain isn’t worth it.” I said, giving up on finding a good comeback and rolling my eyes while sighing, before walking out of the room. 

“Who said yours was?!” I heard him yell behind me.

“I’ll go talk to them.” Renjun said, following me and Haechan following him.

“Jaem, you need to ch-“ “No, Mark, I need alcohol.” Jaemin cut his friend off and stormed off, leaving Mark to get annoyed and storm off in the opposite direction, thus, leaving Chenle and Jisung alone.

[starkatana]

The Meet Cute

Jason Todd x Female Reader

Summary: Jason meets you for the first time and is smitten by you. It’s your first day of school at Gotham Academy and when Jason sees you at school for the first time everything that can go wrong in front of your crush does.

Author’s note: So, here begins my various one-shots of Jason Todd/Red Hood x Reader//y/n AKA my current obsession. I may compile all of them into chronological order once everything is done. I just really wanted to write and post something. I just have too many WIP’s right now that I need to focus on.

Before Reading: You and Jason meet as seniors in high school.

They aren’t exact ages. This is just a world that I made using these characters because I can. Meaning Jason hasn’t died yet, in this AU (not that it matters for this story – he won’t die and become Red Hood until age 22/23)

Selina is your godmother. You are the child of Selina’s childhood friends. There is no family relationship between you and Jason even though you will be living in Wayne Manor and occasionally call Selina, Auntie.

Sorry if its a little out of character, this is just based on my knowledge that tumblr has given me.

“Are we allowed to be here?” Dick asked as he pulled up the car to the music venue.

“Yeah!” Jason said giddily with excitement. “The venue said, shows are open to those 18+ and I just turned 18!”

“I guess. I feel like we fought crime here before.” Dick looked around the area.

“Where haven’t we fought crime in Gotham.” Jason shrugged, “Let’s go!”

Jason and Dick wait in line for the rock show. The venue marks Jason’s hands with a big stamp that showed he was underage to drink and without Dick, he ran into the venue. Letting the sound of the music envelope him, he moved his way through the crowd when he got caught in a mosh pit and someone much bigger than him grabbed him in and threw him down.

“C‘mon dude!” You effortlessly help Jason up off the floor.

Jason, even though he was 18 and still in high school, he was not a small dude he was Robin at night, and during the day between homework and theatre, he was fighting with the Titans. He was not small. Compared to you, he was a giant, even though, when he stood up he was only a head taller than you. The way you swooped in from the mosh pit to help him up, took his breath away.

“You okay?” you yell over the sound of the music.

Your y/h/c was in a high ponytail and you had the perfect cat-eye eyeliner wing. You looked breathtaking. Sweaty and beautiful you were wearing a black t-shirt that was tied in the front, with ripped black skinny jeans, a red flannel, and black converse high tops. He never loved the color red so much than this moment.

“Hey!” you snap him back to reality as he nods still speechless looking into your y/e/c eyes with the lights and moving in the background.

“Good!” you give him a half-smile, followed by a wink, before going back into the mosh pit.

“There you are!” Dick grabbed Jason’s arm and pulled himself towards Jason “I thought I lost you back there.”

Jason doesn’t move and doesn’t pay attention to Dick as he’s watching your petite form in the crowd. How well you handle yourself as you throw down with the other people in the mosh pit.

“Dick, I think I’m in love.”

“What?” Dick yells over the music “I! Can’t! Hear!”

Jason grabs this brother’s shirt collar and points him over to you “Girl. High pony! Headbanging!” Jason couldn’t take his eyes off you as you headbang to the music. “I. Love. Her.”

Dick looks back and forth between her and him. 

“WHAT?!”

He wanted to hang out with you all night, there was one time during the show where you were crowd surfing and you got on stage with the band and jammed out with them. He ran into you often that night and you two shared some laughs and some dance sessions. It was a night he would remember.

Then his alarm went off. It was the next morning and Jason couldn’t get you out of his head. He got up and got ready for the first day of his senior year. In the kitchen he made himself a bowl of cereal but walking to put the milk back he almost trips on the cat, spilling the milk.

“Do be careful Master Todd.”

“It was the cat!”

Alfred gave him a nod and continued cooking breakfast when Jason sat at the island and when he put his hand down the spoon went flying out of the bowl. “Ah! I’ll clean it.”

“Seems like today just isn’t your day.”

“I’m not superstitious and black cats aren’t bad luck.” Jason shrugged.

“You might not be superstitious but it might just be some bad luck.” and Alfred slid him a salt shaker and pointed over his left shoulder, “don’t forget the family dinner tonight. Now, please excuse me, I have to go wake up Master Drake so you two aren’t late to your first day.”

“Yeah.” Jason sighs and takes the salt and throws some over his left shoulder. Not for him, but for Alfred.

At school, you’re walking through the halls with your coffee, class schedule, and other paperwork in your arms. You’re on your phone when Jason is walking towards you and does a double-take unsure if you were the girl from last night. He jogs over to you and doing so he slips on a banana peel like in the cartoons and crashes into you. Causing you to spill coffee all over yourself.

“I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” Jason says quickly getting up and offering a hand to help you up. You take his hand and when he saw your face, he couldn’t believe his eyes. You were the girl from the show last night.

“I’m good it was just iced.” You wipe off your uniform best you can, but your white blouse was now stained. You looked up at Jason who was quietly staring at you. A cat had run away with his tongue.

“Excuse me.” You use your jacket to cover up your chest, begining to walk away.

“No!”

You stop and furrow your brows at him.

“Fuck, I mean, I’m sorry about your uniform.”

You still have your chest covered. “It’s whatever.” 

“I’ll buy you a replacement coffee later.”

“It’s fine.” Then the warning bell for class rang. “I have to go.” You walk past him and throw away the cup and continue with your day. Jason watched you walk away and slapped himself in the forehead. How did he fuck something up as easy as that?!

Ironically enough, for the rest of the day, you keep running into each other. Literally. After the first incident and before lunch he waves to you. As he walks over to you he trips and falls into you. Knocking all your stuff out of your arms.

“Hi.” Jason sheepishly greets from on top of you.

“Hi.” You shove him off of you and start picking up your things.

“I’m so sorry, I’m usually not this clumsy.” He responds helping you pick things up.

“I’m sure.” You respond with a slightly annoyed tone.

“I’m going to make this all up to you.”

“It’s fine.” You go to reach for your pencil and he does the same and you two bang heads.

“Shit.”

“Fuck.”

You two swore, grabbing your foreheads. You quickly snatch your pencil and get as far away from him as possible.

“I’m sorry!”

At lunch, he sees you at a table outside, and a little bit over behind you he sees a coffee cart. A lightbulb goes off in his head and he buys you a coffee and one for himself. He’s minding his own business and at the same time keeping an eye on you to make sure you haven’t disappeared. Once he gets the coffee, he begins walking over to you. He’s rehearsing what he’s going to say to you once he gets to your table.

Hey, I’m Jason. Sorry about today. No. Hey, were you at the Favorite Places show last night?

But getting caught up in his thoughts he trips over his own feet and spills the iced coffees all over you from behind.

You jump at the sudden burst of cold liquid all over you. “Oh my god!” You get up and turn around you see the same boy from earlier.

“Are you fucking SORRY?!”

Your jaw drops even further than it had already. Jason’s face goes super red. You shake your head and start gathering up your things.

“That’s not,” he gets up from the ground, “What I wanted to say.” He squeaked.

You roll your eyes and continue to ignore him.  With your stuff barely packed away, you grab your jacket uniform, the only dry clothing item you now have on you, and walk away from him. 

“Fuck.” Jason grabbed his head. Today was going great.

On your way to the last period of the day, you two make eye contact across the courtyard. There was something about you that took Jason off guard. When you saw him, you turned around going back inside the building to avoid walking near him. He was devastated.

Later that evening in Wayne Manor:

“Hey Little Wing,“ Dick walked into Jason’s room “ooooo....” he leaned against the door frame. The room is dark and Jason is slumped over his bed, “is this a bad time?”

“Pretty sure the girl from last night was at school today and everything went WRONG.”

“Ouch.” Dick flicked on the light, “What happened?”

“What didn’t happen?!” Jason sat up in bed. “I spilled coffee on her twice, but not just two cups of coffee. Three. She was drenched in ice coffee by lunch.”

“Oh, that sounds like a bad day for her and you.”

“Young masters, please report to the main dining hall, dinner is ready,” Alfred announced over the intercoms.

“You can talk more along the way.”

Jason explained everything that happened at school today to Dick and when they got into the dining room Bruce and Selina were there along with Tim and Damien and the last person that Jason laid his eyes on was you.

Jason’s jaw dropped. 

Your eyes narrowed.

“Jason! Dick! Take a seat this is my goddaughter, y/n.” Selina introduced, “She’ll be staying with us and going to Gotham Academy with you and Tim.”

“Hi, I’m Dick.” he reached out his hand and shook hands with you, “Pleasure meeting you.”

You shakes his hand and gives him a smile in return and Dick takes a seat one away from you, leaving the only space at the table next to you for Jason.

You then turn your attention to Jason. “And you must be Jason.”

Hi.” Jason said sheepishly avoiding eye contact and quickly taking a seat at the table next to you.

“Wow, this is a first.” Selina said, “I have never seen Jason so quiet.”

Jason grows furiously red.

This was the worse karma.

---

My boyfriend said I need to stop sitting on all my stories and that I need to share them with the world. I’m embarrassed and I don’t like people knowing what I’m into.So, better share with all the strangers on the internet! 

Hope you enjoyed it! I’ll be back soon!

[imnotwolverine]

The marriage pact - A Bird’s Life

Henry Cavill x OC Alice - multi-chapter

< Part 18 | Part 19 A Bird’s Life | Part 20 >

Disclaimer: Some strong language

Author’s note: I hope you can survive my attempt at writing poetry.🤓

Word count: 1.475

(Link to my Masterlist)

Dear readers,

When I was young my school reports always had one and the same comment; “Alice should try to get a bit more out of her shell”. I was simply said the shy kid, the nerdy girl, the one who always got the good grades and didn’t want to upset anyone. For the longest time I always put everyone before me. I was the giver, not the receiver, of attention and whenever someone wished to give me that attention, be it as a friend or lover, I pushed them away. I just didn’t know how to cope.

And even now after all these years it still, at times, makes me feel a little weirded out. I do not like to be the centre of attention. Not even when it’s the attention of just one person. Why I exactly feel like that, I don’t know. Is it a form of self protection? Building up walls? Perhaps. In any way, I will have to deal with it. Because me and chocolate cake are getting pretty serious about a lot of things. Adult things.

It happens to just be so that part of these adult things is caring for each other in equal measure. Being there for one another. Letting lust and demand grow into love and care. Or, as U.A. Fanthorpe lovingly described it in her poem Atlas; “There is a kind of love, called maintenance.”

And I, dear readers, want that maintenance kind of love, I do.

Ali

‘I didn’t know you read poetry.’ Henry said, your bodies huddled close together in the mid December wind. It was a small but unfortunate side effect of living near the sea; it seemed to always be windy. And in winter, that gave you a whole new sense of “fuck it’s cold”. I shivered into his chest, watching Kal zoom through the bushes like it was just another fine summers day.

‘Every now and then. It’s a bit of a left over habit from college.’

’Twas a nice poem. The whole collection of poems on that website actually.’ He smiled. ‘You read them all?’ I raised an eyebrow and looked up at his now outgrowing beard. Henry was growing a beard and I did not mind it one bit - it made me feel all kinds of literal and figurative tingles. He snickered. ‘Perhaps.’

‘Henry the poetry man! Makes me wonder actually. You are good with words, but do you ever write yourself?’ I looked back at the stone cobbled path ahead of us, our booted feet tapping in joined rhythm on the cold rock. I really, really enjoyed our walks together and from the fact Henry always near forced me to join him for his walks no matter how bad the weather, I derived he did so too.

‘Perhaps.’ He finally said, earning a inquisitive eyebrow raise from me. ‘Perhaps? Mr. Cavill, please do not dare and keep secrets from me!’ I prodded him in his side and he chuckled, shaking his head. ‘I wouldn’t dare. I just hadn’t ..come around to sharing it with you yet.’

‘Sounds like a secret to me.’ I laughed, seeing Kal had found himself a nice stick. ‘Oh Kal bear! At least you keep no secrets huh?’ I ruffled my fingers through his fur when he came to present his new found treasure to us, Henry’s hand near automatically taking it from the friendly Akita to throw it a bit further down the road, for the dog to fetch.

‘Okay. Something I wrote a while ago..don’t judge me though. It’s..-‘ ‘A secret.’ I squeezed my lips tight as if promising to keep my lips shut from here on. He sniffled. ‘Something like that.’

Clearing his throat and gazing out over the wintery landscape, he started:

‘A bird’s life

Before their singing rings I wake, an early riser Come morning do I take On the day, again a little whiter

Striding feet I follow Black and white, his beard too grey I hear my mothers voice speak again Do your duty come what may

But as I follow my winged friends Around the world I sink Dragging feet that stall and linger Not always can this be so, I think

My nests though many Are fewer my home My coffins are filled With gold silver and woe

As days then end I reach Yet another homeless nest Its branches prickle and when I look Hours more not to rest

Sun rises burning and Sore feet hit cold levels Long distances I go more Until sweet dreams too unravel

This journey’s not mine Too lonesome to stay I flicker my wings And yet again for love, do I pray.’

Silence fell as the last of his words filtered through the morning air, my ears still peeked as I now listened to his slow, calm breath, my hand wrapped around his arm. He had spoken as if his poem was directed at the birds in the trees themselves, his eyes reaching up to the empty branches in the near distance, no birds to be seen. It was just us two. Or three actually, as Kal, though blissfully aware of this magical moment, was there too, roaming around freely in the thicket.

‘When did you write that?’ I finally asked, looking up at him, his face calm. ‘The day after you left London. I actually hadn’t slept a wink that night before you had to fly back. I…gosh I’m such a foo-‘ - ‘Stop that.’ I halted my feet and gave him a fiery gaze. ‘Don’t apologise for your feelings.’ I admonished, then gently rubbed his arm. ‘And that was a terribly beautiful poem Hen.’

‘Hmm.’ He smiled, slightly unsure. ‘Thank you Ali.’

‘No thank you. And to answer your bird’s heart.’ I cupped his cheek in both hands. ‘I love you and I want to make that journey with you, I do.’

‘Even after all the surrogate mother shit and..’ - ‘Henry William Dalgliesh Cavill. Did you just haphazardly skip the first half of my blog this morning?’ I raised a teasing, yet authoritative eyebrow at him. He bit his lip to hide a chuckle. ‘I’m doing it too, huh?’

‘Yep. Take my love you fool! Take it! TAKE IT!’ I used both my hands to shake him like a salt shaker - though little did I actually get him to move as this man was about as built as the empire state building. His smile grew and grew and before long he was laughing aloud, his head nodding in amusement. ‘Okay Ali. Ali. You can stop now. I surrender.’

‘Then kiss me like you mea-‘ I wasn’t even allowed to finish that sentence, his lips crashing down onto mine. Soft and plushy, the after taste of his morning coffee still lingering, he was not going to let the moment go to waste.

We probably stood there for a few minutes. Just kissing, our cheeks burning like hot coals despite the icy wind around us, his hands carefully wrapped around my head, keeping me where he wanted me to be. His fellow bird, ready to fly out together.

Or well, almost; first I had to take my employer up on that hiatus proposal.  

—

‘I got the okay! She’s going to check for a temp writer and once that person’s all settled in, I could..go with you.’ I cheered, flying around Henry’s neck, not minding the fact that his parents were also near - his mom just peeking her head around the corner of the kitchen and his dad probably reading his newspaper in the living room.

‘What?! Really?!’ Henry’s smile grew from ear to ear as he wrapped me, winter coat and all, in his arms. ‘Baby that’s..’ He leaned back again. ‘Wow.’ He near giggled.

‘Are you staying for dinner, Ali?’ His mom inquired, infiltrating on our little moment. We quickly awoke from our little bubble and Henry muttered some quiet apology, pushing the still opened front door closed behind us.

‘Eh…’ I blinked at Henry. He smiled and nodded, bidding me to accept her offer. ‘Yes please. Thank you Marianne.’ I looked over at her and she gave me a most adoring wink. ‘You are practically family Ali.’ She mused, disappearing back into the kitchen where dinner was already well on the way.

I watched her waddle off, feeling Henry’s strong arms pull me in for a full-circled swoop through the air, making me fly like the birds in his poem. ‘I love you so much!’ He exclaimed, making me laugh with pure giddiness. ‘Hen! Carefu— OHH — HEN- put me down, put me down hahahah. Oh gosh.’ I squirmed until finally he put me back on my feet, his wide teethed grin causing sweet dimples to crease his cheeks.

‘I love you too, silly.’

‘Then I better start calling my agent, hmm?’

‘Mhm. You better.’

--

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[mimiplaysgames]

A Powerful Enough Dream (Ch. 8)

Pairing: Terra/Aqua Rating: T Word Count: 4,177

Summary: Aqua traces Terra’s steps to what only seems like a nightmare, wedged into a dream for the future.

Read on AO3

A/N: I will be taking another break from this fic in order to work on my other WIPs, which are each incredibly time consuming, so I apologize! I hope everyone has been staying safe.

~*~*~*~*~

Stones, pt. 2

Seventh Heaven is a mosh pit of uneven stone, its renovated extensions made steady of wood, draped with drabby awnings of well-worn linen. It’s hard to tell if it always stood here and was damaged when Radiant Garden fell, or if it was built after the fact. Either way, it could tip over from one gust of wind. 

The front door whines as Aqua steps inside. Wooden chairs are flipped on top of wooden tables, and the booths are empty except for salt shakers. It’s part-restaurant, part-bar, with a space free of clutter for dancing.

“Is anyone here?” Aqua calls out. 

Footsteps hurry from the back, and a pretty woman in dark, long hair appears behind the bar. 

“We’re not open quite yet,” she says. “Come back in a couple of hours.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Aqua holds her hand to her chest. “I’m not a customer.”

The woman cocks her head. Her smile is pleasant, but her red eyes narrow. “Then, can I help you?” 

Aqua clears her throat. “I heard Terra stayed here with someone named Tifa.”

“I am Tifa.” She steps out from behind the bar, her stride confident and gracefully brisk. Her biceps are toned, and her fingers flex with the familiarity of someone who knows how to fight. “And who’s asking?”

Aqua braces herself - she’s not sure if she’s preparing for a punch to the face but it wouldn’t hurt to foresee it. Such protectiveness over Terra from someone he should barely know and yet is close to (and someone this curvy), sends a spike to her chest. 

“Aqua,” she says with a tremble to her voice. “I’m Aqua.”

Tifa gasps, her stride slamming into thin air. “He found you,” she whispers. Closing the gap between them, she takes Aqua into a firm embrace - not tight, not suffocating, but motherly: a gentle reassurance that everything in the world will be okay. Aqua can’t help but to be moved to tears. Hugs are something people do. She just forgot.

“Where are these things supposed to go, Teef?” a man’s voice calls out from the back. In his hands is a box of metal spouts with curved ridges meant for pouring liquor. His spiked hair is jet-black, and he has the most familiar bright blue eyes; he’s just taller now, more imposing, less scrawny, but he wears that same goofy smile. 

“Zack?”

He looks up and drops the box, steel clamoring and popping in sharp echoes. “Aqua?”

At first, silence thrums between them. 

“You haven’t aged a day, either,” he says, mostly to himself. “Something weird’s going on.” He scratches his head, arguing something over in his mind before shrugging it off and coming at her with that indestructible grin. “Whatever. It’s hugging time.”

He yanks her in. Aqua grunts; his hug is like being shoved into a brick wall. It’s his shoulder plates, his muscles, his childish fever of gripping his favorite toy that crushes her ribcage. Terra is just as hard and strong, if not moreso, but he never feels like this. He’s warm, too careful of what he’s holding. Terra is the unseizable fort that promises a quiet night away from the danger. Zack is the tank that rolls over the threat, whooping all the way. 

Aqua laughs. “It’s good to see you, too.”

Zack pokes her forehead. “Why did I have to wait twelve years before things got interesting again? I deserve good stories and better drinks.” He looks behind her, toward the entrance. “Where is the ol’ champ?”

Tifa nods. “A celebration is in order. I’ll make him the best steak he’s ever had.”

They’re so expectant, so ready to shower Terra with congrats, that Aqua can’t bring herself to give them the white lie of, He’ll be here soon.

“He’s…” she starts, not looking into their eyes, but in the spaces in between. 

The way her voice wavers is truth enough. Zack’s immortal smile dies, and Tifa stares at a lopsided picture on her wall. 

Aqua tells them what she can without confusing them: that he’s succumbed to shadow in rescuing her, in a parallel world where only the dark exists. So far, he’s still there. 

She tells them that the only reason why she was in that lonely world to begin with was because she lost a terrible fight that warped the fabric of existence. She leaves out any mention of Xehanort or Unversed. In a world of Heartless, these people don’t need to be scared of anything more. 

When they ask how quickly they can free him, Aqua says that it’s only a matter of time - it’s just difficult and very dangerous. But if he can do it, so can she. 

Zack has helped himself to a booth, leaning back on the tabletop. Tifa stays standing, her eyes hard as gems and her arms tightly crossed like she’s using them as a crutch. 

Tifa scoffs when Aqua finishes. “How many child soldiers have to sacrifice themselves before the worlds set themselves straight?” She heads back to the bar. 

“Tifa,” Zack calls.

“Terra is too young to suffer that much,” Tifa shoots back. “So is Aqua. So are all of them - you see how young these Keyblade wielders start. Would the same happen to Sora or Riku?” She picks up the box he dropped earlier, twisting spouts onto glass bottles and slamming them back in their place with a loud clunk.

Zack sighs, rubbing his neck. 

Aqua has never considered herself a soldier. A knight, certainly, someone gallant and faithful to a calling - not an ant that follows orders. But if she frames her calling as something akin to a general, or a king, then she could see what Tifa is getting at. 

“Terra would have done the same whether he was a soldier, a Keyblade wielder, or an ice cream server,” Zack says softly, tossing a weak smile to Aqua. 

Aqua sits across from him. She only nods in response.

Zack leans over, elbows on his knees. “I told Terra he looked like a hero. At the time, I couldn’t articulate why. He just seemed like the type.

“After hearing about this, I can say that’s the reason why. It’s not his seriousness or his determination… he just has balls. Even when he’s afraid - and I’m sure he must have been, saving you - he goes for it. No second thoughts. Staring the demon in the face even when he’s getting dragged all the way down.”

It’s not the most eloquent explanation, but Aqua smirks. 

“I wanted to be like him one day.” Zack stands up, squats once, and stretches his arms, heading on his way to join Tifa. “I’m going to have to up my game.”

Aqua follows. “You’re a hero now?”

Zack snaps on a huge grin from ear to ear, fists triumphantly on his hips. “Finished work in progress, I’m kicking Heartless to the curb and helping the Radiant Garden cause.” He sits at the bar, not minding how Tifa has ducked under the counter to connect a tube to a spout. “That reminds me.” He brings his hand to his chin, measuring Aqua with his eyes.

Oh. She had hoped he forgot. 

“How old are you?” he asks.

Thirty? Aqua sits alongside him. “Eighteen.”

“Then it’s fine.” He waves an arm dismissively. “Now that I’m bona fide… You remember our deal, yeah?”

Aqua tries her hardest not to laugh or blush. She’s relying on using Ven as an excuse this time. “Maybe?”

“One date for hero-hood.” He holds a finger up.

Tifa slams two glasses on the surface of the bar, studying Zack incredulously. “I’m not sure You-Know-Who, and,” she glances at Aqua, “You-Know-Who-Else would like that very much.” 

Thank goodness, she’s saved.

“Aerith would love to join us.” Zack shrugs. “I’m not sure on the Who-Else, though.”

Tifa smirks and rolls her eyes. “There’s still packages to be brought here, Hot Stuff.” She gives him keys. “You can try strutting your swag when she’s actually interested.”

“Heroes doing chores,” he protests, dangling the keys in his hand.

“You should have asked Cloud for more munny before he left,” Tifa reminds him. 

Zack groans, rolling his shoulders. Before leaving, he places a hand on Aqua’s shoulder. “I meant what I said. About Terra.” He’s serious, and it’s reassuring. “He’ll get through it. He’s made of the best stuff.” 

Aqua dams the tears. Coming from someone they’ve all known from a previous lifetime, it matters. “Thank you,” she whispers.

Tifa offers Aqua a warm smile when they’re alone. “That was a close one. You’re too prim for most people I know.”

“E-excuse me?” 

“You carry yourself a certain way.” She chuckles, nodding over to the way Aqua fumbles with her hands, properly layered over the other. “You know, Terra had dropped off something here.”

Aqua’s heart skips a beat. “My Keyblade?”

“Mmm, no.” Tifa eyes her curiously. “For you and Ventus. Some fruit from another world. I have it frozen in the back.”

“Oh.” She takes a moment to let the disappointment roll off, and focuses on the thoughtful gesture. “I’ll wait to have it - at least until Ven is with me.”

“Fair enough.” But as Tifa grabs a rag to start cleaning, she doesn’t follow through. Instead, she hangs her head and sniffs. “I only finished it yesterday.”

“Come again?”

“I had Terra on a rare potion to help him sleep. It kept him sane and in control.” She brings her head back up, wiping her eyes with her glove. “I didn’t have a second batch finished the last time he was here, so I told him to ration what he had left. I only finished it yesterday…”

“Did you know what was going on with him?”

“No,” Tifa says exasperatedly. “But I didn’t need an explanation. I saw it in his eyes. He was haunted by something very powerful.” She rests her head on the counter. “And I know someone who goes through the same. I wanted to help.”

Aqua traces at the grooves on the wood with her finger. “You kept him going. You helped him find me.” She doesn’t know if it’s true, but it’s a beautiful story for a person needing a prayer answered. 

Tifa inhales like she’s meditating, her tears silent and sparse. She wills a smile on her face, and Aqua has to admire that tenacity - she can’t do the same so smoothly. Leaning her elbows, Tifa studies Aqua, from the crown of her head to her chin. She’s looking for something beyond just her face, and while Aqua normally doesn’t feel discomfort in staring anyone down, she finds the emptiness of the bar stealing her glances. 

“I still have it,” Tifa says, “if you think it might be helpful.”

Does ‘Crazy Insomniac’ read well on the face? Aqua thinks grimly. “That won’t be necessary, but thank you.” 

Tifa nods, but she’s not approving. “Well, I’ll keep it safe just in case.” She settles her attention to a bar that needs to be wiped. “Terra stayed upstairs. It’s not the fanciest, but I try to make it comfortable. You’re welcome to stay as long as you need to.” 

She points to the back, beyond the kitchen, where a rickety staircase bends over the corner, just as narrow as it is steep. The railing wiggles as she leans on them, and the steps moan with every climb. The top is a dense wooden hallway only populated by two doors. The one closest to her to the right is a washroom, its tub cracked and tiny. 

The door farther from her is the bedroom, where every floorboard creaks. A small window twice the size of her head opens outward, looking over rooftops and watching dusk blend into night. The only table shelves three books, all with the titles worn out of their covers. Skimming through them, Aqua learns they’re romance novels. She lights the lantern by their side, burning it bright enough to ward away the shadows. 

The bed is short, even for Aqua - Terra’s legs would have dangled off of them, but knowing him, he wouldn’t have complained or even noticed. 

He had slept here. She only missed him by several days. 

Aqua breathes in the pillow, looking for him. It’s freshly cleaned and air-dried. 

“You’re not here,” she says out loud. She knows better than to expect different, but the words burn through her eyelids. 

She pulls both blue and orange Wayfinders out. 

Rolling Terra’s Wayfinder in her fingers, she layers it with hers, perfectly shaped and identical, except for the colors. Making them was supposed to tie a tether between them, a psychic link that lets him stay close. She focuses on that magic, praying for the sensation that he’s watching her, or a whiff of his scent, sandalwood and yeast, entering the room.

“Terra,” she calls. No one answers. She really failed with it.

Having bonds is supposed to brim a Keybearer’s heart with power. What if Xehanort’s beliefs are right? Aqua still has that bond to Terra, and all it’s doing right now is pinching her heart until it swells with an infection, crumbling it so that she has to scatter to keep it together. 

If bonds really do make the heart weaker rather than stronger, then Aqua doesn’t have a proper defense for her Master’s teachings. 

So Aqua stares at these Wayfinders until the busy noise of a crowd fills the room. Music plays downstairs. Some conversations are giddy and drunk, others are aggressive and drunk, but they blend into a chorus that performs without ever knowing she’s sitting a floor above them, thinking about all the existential magic that doesn’t make a difference in their lives. 

So Aqua watches the stars twinkle through the window, a gentle breeze coming in but not threatening enough to blow the lantern out. People dance - it reverberates on the walls. She considers going downstairs and joining the fun. She decides against it. With all the ruckus, Aqua can’t really say she’s alone.

And Aqua rejects Tifa when she knocks, offering a hot plate of food. Tifa leaves her with a small bowl of strawberries just in case, letting her know that Sora is looking for her. 

“I need rest,” Aqua says. “He’ll understand.”

Two hours after that, the night starts to quiet, its inhabitants straggling off for adventures. 

But there’s always a few left, chattering. Everyone needs someone to talk to.

“Terra,” she calls again. No answer. 

Maybe if she plays his music box, he’ll find a way to her. 

On his bed, she stares at the ceiling, the music box playing the song of the missing and the missed, the chatter downstairs peaceful, the lantern burning strong. 

Dozing off is like blinking, the hours nonexistent and the rest groggy and unfulfilled. 

It’s silent. The candle in the lantern is halfway through its life, the music box needs rewinding, and there’s not a voice or movement downstairs. Tifa doesn’t stay overnight, so Aqua is truly alone this time.

She rolls over, and contemplates reaching over for the music box. Both Wayfinders sit idly on the table, side by side.

Aqua inhales. She smells smoke.

The flame on the candle flickers black, suffocating all the light in the room. Aqua whimpers. 

Something grabs her from under, pulling her into the mattress as though a hole beneath her body is feeding.

“No!”

But there’s no one to hear her ripping the bedsheets or scratching the surface of the table as she fails to grip it. Eventually, her defiant cries are muffled by pillows and fabric, until she sinks, much like she’s done for years.

Aqua knows that to swim back up to the bed is futile. The Realm of Darkness must have waited for the right opportunity to bring her back to where she truly belongs... Or it was clever this entire time and really got her where it hurt the most. Being in the Realm of Light was too good to be true; it had to have been a dream, right? A Keyblade Master should have known better, should have anticipated the enemy’s movements.

She lands on nothingness. Her only choice is to choose a direction, but in a sea of black, it never matters.

No, something is different this time.

She whirls. Behind her is that girl in white, her blonde hair wrapped around her shoulder, smiling. Nothing smiles in the Realm of Darkness.

“Hello,” Aqua says. 

The girl nods in return, her glow intensifying. Then she disintegrates into a cluster of white, holy butterflies, fluttering away. 

“Wait!”

Through the nothing, Aqua chases the butterflies, and for a moment they’re too fast for her - if she loses sight of them, she’ll be stuck here forever again. She urges her legs to pick up speed no matter how it feels like she’s slogging through molasses; she’ll thank them for their service later with a real bath, as soon as she sees the Realm of Light again.

In the distance, the butterflies settle, illuminating a silhouette of a figure on the ground, one arm draped over one knee. 

Terra. He’s admiring the tiny wings across his arms and shoulders. There’s one nestled in his hair, but he doesn’t notice. Aqua’s footsteps don’t make noise, yet he looks up when she approaches.

His eyes are blue: A gorgeous, deep blue that Aqua used to say was like the river before she saw the ocean for the first time. She’s told him to try wearing the color. It would bring his eyes out more, but he’d scoff at her. 

“What are you doing here?” he asks. He stays still, not disturbing the butterflies. “Please tell me you’ve escaped.”

“Depends on where I am,” she says, sitting on her knees and giving him a smile. It widens without her permission, with every glance at his jawline, his brows, his nose, as though the darkness around them can’t hurt her anymore.

“This is…” He shrugs with his head. “My existence.”

This was his prison for twelve years? The Realm of Darkness at least gave her something to do. “There’s nothing here.”

“I suppose it suits me.”

She doesn’t like how defeated he sounds. “I did escape, Terra. Don’t worry.”

He smiles in the way a person does when they find their bed after a long, hard day. He doesn’t have breath: this vision of him is compensating with a sigh in the only way it could. “I’m glad,” he says, as though the relief is heavy on his shoulders. 

“And you? Are you safe?”

“As long as I sit here and do as I’m told, then sure. For the most part.” He has the gall to smirk. “He’s knocked out right now, actually.”

Aqua gapes. She never considered that Xehanort could sleep, or would even want to.

She should ask more pressing questions: something about Keyblade business, about the fate of the world, about Xehanort and Mickey, about Ven… But it’s the simple moments that she misses, that she wants to take back for a few seconds, to indulge in this dream before she has to play the Master. And it’s Terra, who always undoes her to a layer that no one else can see. He’s the only one who can. 

“Does he snore?” she whispers, the words slipping out naturally.

Terra lifts a brow. “The man who will destroy everything and everyone in the next Keyblade War does, in fact, snore.”

It’s like a usual night, when they’ve snuck together into a dark library past curfew. “That’s because it’s your body. You’re the one who snores.”

“Just a little.”

“Just enough.”

He smiles. The look of it punches Aqua in the gut, dragging her beating heart down along with it. It’s meant for her. It’s meant for his best friend, and dare she wish that it could mean something stronger and closer and more. She steals one precious, little moment to study the way it never stretches to his ears. Most who don’t know him would assume it’s because he’s shy, or too polite. But Terra’s just the type that prefers his smile to ignite his eyes. She’s daydreamed about it for many nights, but this is a tiny detail she’s forgotten, and the sight of it sends another crashing bolt.

He’s really here.

“Terra,” she croaks, “I’m so sorry.”

He falters. “What for?”

What for? She’s replayed all the words she threw at him in her mind, especially the last ones. Of course he’d take them to heart and never direct the blame back at her. Sweet Terra.

“For not believing you when you said you were going after the darkness. For accusing you of doing terrible things in other worlds.”

“Aqua.” He shakes his head, and the butterfly that dug itself into his hair flounces before it measures if it’s safe enough to land in the same spot. “I know what it’s like to be forced to choose between your best friend and your Master.”

“Still, I shouldn’t have told you - I shouldn’t have even insinuated that you would keep going astray and keep doing stupid things. It was cruel of me. It was senseless. Please forgive me.” 

He shakes his head again, and the butterfly opts to hover next to his ear this time. “I bet you counted on lecturing me all the way back home before we could go on as normal,” he says, brushing off any sign of hurt. “And I did do some stupid things. We couldn’t have known it would end that way, Aqua. There’s nothing to forgive. Everyone that’s important to me is now safe. I’ve made my peace.”

What is that supposed to mean? There’s no solace to be had if he’s not part of it. 

In a flash, Aqua reaches for him. He reciprocates with the same desperate attempt, all the butterflies now in an uproar, enveloping them. Their hands pass through each other, through air.

Aqua gasps. The only thing she’s grabbed is one solitary butterfly, fluttering its wings.

Terra stares at his hand in disbelief, a wave of self-willed reassurance passing over his face. “It’s okay.”

It’s not.

She’s about to say so when he whips his head to the left as though he’s hearing movement. She looks over: there’s nothing but empty, inky space.

“He’s waking up.” Terra scowls, his voice laced with the disgust of someone robbed, and the disappointment of someone faithless. “He’s very paranoid. He doesn’t like it if I talk or move too much.”

“Terra-”

“I don’t have much time.”

There’s a finality in his statement that Aqua chooses to ignore. “But Ven-”

He catches her gaze, his eyes urgent and commanding. “Ven is with Sora.”

Aqua snaps her eyes wide open at the wooden ceiling above her. The morning sun beams through the window. The lantern has been entirely spent. 

He never was here.

She jolts up, searching each corner for signs of him (though she knows better. She always knows better, and still she denies it). “No, Terra, please. I need my Keyblade.”

Silence. Tifa hasn’t arrived to start the day. Aqua’s Wayfinder sits alone at the table; Terra’s is on the floor. She must have knocked it over while she slept.

Throwing herself on her knees, Aqua holds his Wayfinder to her chest. She tries using it to feel for him, but even her heart won’t answer. “Come on, Terra, I still need to get to Ven.”

She won’t give in to despair. She won’t think about how she’ll never see him again; it’s just a reaction to the circumstances. She will continue to hold her chin high, continue to teach herself not to cry, continue to look forward. She knows better. Only when she’s sure she won’t fall apart does she relax, letting her head hang.

Something shines from the sunlight through the floorboards she’s sitting on. Aqua peers closer - it shines blue.

It’s desecration but she doesn’t care. Aqua nudges her fingers through the cracks, and it shifts. These floorboards aren’t well bolted, so it takes little effort to pull one out with a giant shriek. Then another. Then a third. Good thing she’s alone for now.

“Stormfall,” she gasps. Along with her armor, all kept together.

Her Keyblade is as familiar as an old friend who has waited for a visit for years, yet as alienating as clothes that no one believes used to fit. It’s much lighter than the Master’s Defender, much sleeker that it feels almost delicate, even though Aqua knows better. It’s sturdy, but groggy, as though it’s waking up from a decade-long slumber. It burns at the touch of her hand, slowly but surely recognizing who is holding it this time. It answers back; it’s home, and glad she’s returned.

She runs her hands down the blade, and traces the shapes of the key ridges at its end. At last, she hugs her Keyblade, and her heart remembers how beautifully the water glistens in the sunshine.

Within the hour, after she’s taken enough time for herself, Aqua will take one step forward onto solid ground.

[snow-pitch-grimm]

My Baz

Summary: Simon tries out different pet names for Baz.

SIMON

I didn't notice it at first. Or at least I didn't see when I first started saying it.

"Sweetheart," just slipped out so easily when talking to Baz.

Of all the places to notice it, I first realized it during lunch one day.

"Pass me the salt, Sweetheart,"

When the salt shaker didn't instantly appear in front of me, I looked up in time to see a slightly pink-cheeked Baz reaching for the salt. Without his magic.

Now, I'm not the smartest person in the room, so instead of jumping to conclusions, I test it again.

"Thanks, Sweetheart,"

And there it is. Baz freezes just for a second and then ducks his head, a soft blush spreading on his cheeks.

Huh. Interesting.

This needs further investigation.

xxx

Baz is sitting on the sofa, bathed in the dim light of the lamp. His eyes seem to be glowing a little as he reads his book in the practical dark with his vampire eyesight. His long hair frames his sharp features and makes him look like something out of a fairytale.

"Hello, Gorgeous," I say, the name rolling off my tongue naturally. He is, after all, one of the most gorgeous people I have ever laid eyes on.

Baz looks up, and even in the dim light, I can tell he's smiling widely.

"Why thank you, Snow," he says, pulling me close to him and laying us together on the sofa, "You're not so bad yourself,"

xxx

"Morning, Beautiful,"

And there it is again, that broad smile on his face. It makes him look like he just won the lottery.

"Good Morning to you too," he says, voice cheery, and his hug is a little tighter than most morning. Not that I mind. Hugging Baz is always fantastic.

It's especially wonderful when he's feeling giddy from being called physically appealing.

Who knew Baz liked that kind of thing.

I'll have to keep that in mind.

xxx

"Hey, babe," I tell him as I sit down in front of him for our coffee date

Baz instantly wrinkles his nose, "I'm not a baby, Snow,"

"Yeah, I know. It's just a nickname, Baz,"

"Well, I don't like it," He says, shrugging, "I already ordered your favourite by the way. It should be here soon,"

I open my mouth to say something, but Baz cuts me off.

"And yes," he says with his trademark smirk, "I ordered the sour cherry scones too,"

I smile at him, "Thanks, Sweetheart,"

Aaaand there's the blush again.

My boyfriend is adorable.

xxx

We're sitting on the couch in front of the TV. There's some romantic comedy playing, but neither of us is paying attention.

"Tell me how much you care for me,"

He doesn't use the word love. We're not there yet, but I can tell how much he needs this.

"You mean the world to me, Baz. Being in your arms feels like home, being close to you feels like flying and if it's up to me we'll be by each other's sides for a long, long time,"

I lean down and brush my lips over his, "You're my world Baz,"

He smiled up at me, and his eyes are a little wet, "Thank you, Snow,"

"Any time, My Heart,"

And oh, Baz melts. His eyes go soft, and he sinks further into my arms, letting loose a long breath.

"My Heart," I whisper again, and this time, he whines into my chest, cuddling closer.

I spend the rest of the evening whispering into his ear, about him much he means to me, ignoring the few sniffles he lets out.

Next time he's annoyed and stressed I wrap my arms around him call him 'My Heart,'

He melts again. All the tension drains out of him, and his face ends up in the crook of his neck.

'My Heart' becomes my favourite name for him.

xxx

"We're going to be late, Snow," Baz calls out, "Do you want a lecture from Fiona about punctuality?"

Yeah no. I don't

"Coming, Honey," I call back

"I'm not food, Snow,"

I grin, "It's just a pet name, cupcake,"

"I'm gonna throw something at you,"

"Snickerdoodle is out too, then?"

His jacket hits me in the back of my head.

"Shut up, Snow!"

"Sorry, Dearest,"

I'm rewarded with a chuckle and a kiss on the cheek.

When we're at dinner, I ask Baz, 'Please pass the vegetables, Dear,"

Daphne lets out a chuckle. Fiona full-on laughs and even Malcolm seems amused.

Baz looks like he's a second away from bursting into giggles, and I'm not sure what's so funny about the whole thing, but it makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside.

Afterwards, Malcolm makes a comment about 'the young old married couple,' and kinda get it.

It doesn't stop me from adding 'Dear' and 'Dearest' to my list of pet names for Baz.

xxx

"Dance with me, Snow,"

It's the Christmas Eve party at the Grimms' house. It's relatively small compared to their other ones. The couples, including Malcolm and Daphne, are swaying too some Christmas Jazz. The children are running around, and the atmosphere is comfy and homely.

So, I take Baz's hand and let him pull onto the dance floor.

"You look amazing, Darling," I tell him

His arm tightens around my waist, and he pulls me a little closer. Startled, I look up, right into Baz's darkened eyes.

I know that look. It's the look Baz gets right before he pulls me into the bedroom or before he goes on his knees in front of me or after I leave teeth marks on the inside of his thighs.

But right bow- It can't be because of...can it?

"Something wrong, Darling," This time, I let the 'r' roll on my tongue and make my smile small and secretive.

Sure enough, he bites his lips and his flow stutters just a little.

I spend the rest of the night torturing him.

Later, when he's spread underneath me, and his nails are digging into my back, I softly whisper 'darling' into his ear, making him arch up and beg for more.

'Darling' becomes my second favourite thing to call him. Right after 'my heart.'

xxx

Baz shifts and whimpers softly from where he's laying in my arms.

"Wake up, Baz," I say softly

He doesn't, and the whimpering only gets worse.

"Hush, Bazzy," I say, "It's okay. It's just a dream,"

It takes a few more minutes, but Baz finally wakes, shaking so badly that his teeth are chattering, and his hands can barely hold on to my shirt.

"I love you. I love you, Simon," he says hoarsely, "Please don't leave me. Please, Simon,"

My heart feels like its shattering into tiny pieces, cutting through my chest.

"Oh, sweetheart," I say, "It's okay. I've got you. I'm not going anywhere. Not now. Not ever,"

"Promise?" he whispers, voice still broken and shattered

"Promise, My Love,"

He raises his head and winds his arms around me, looking at me like I just handed him everything.

"Say that again," he whispers

"My Love," I say, "My Love. My Love,"

Whenever I want to get Baz's attention, I call him 'Love' and he looks at me like I just gave him the world, like I am his world.

I let him know he's mine too.

xxx

Baz bites me, and it doesn't hurt, not really

I wake up hungry for something I can't identify, not until Baz puts the bag of blood in front of me.

Later, when we're curled up together, he asks if I regret it.

"Never, My Baz,"

Funny how, in the end, calling him "My Baz' is what makes him cry.

[rotzaprachim]

the undone and the divine

Kanej. Teen. Post Crooked Kingdom. I just like to write rambling domestic fluff without plot or dialogue these days I guess? (References to murder because this is Ketterdam but references only.)

On AO3

It’s like that first time they tried in the hotel bathroom, when he sort of fixed her bandages and kissed her neck and fell into a million pieces, right there and then. Except it isn’t like that at all, because this isn’t their first time anymore, and this is his bathroom, in a house that’s got his own false name on it, and because she isn’t cut and bleeding on the counter. The raised scars from Dunyasha’s knife stand out along her bicep against the melange of other cuts and scars, older and newer, a story in survival wrapping out from under the loose straps of her sleep shirt.

It’s not like that first time, because they are not the people they were then, because the five years between then and now, the distance as much as the closeness, have done something he hopes might be healing but that is at the very least walking forward.

It is like the first the first time because they are here, in a fancy tiled bathroom with steam enough to bead on their skin and make their clothes stick. It is like that first time because of the way they’re positioned, him standing in front of her, her perched on the sink with her knees wrapped around his hips, but with something tighter now, almost like possessiveness. She is nobody’s but her own, but he is hers and always will be.

She’s good with her fingers and better with knives, and as she runs the razor blade over the rough stubble on his jaw, she makes far fewer mistakes than he ever did. The feeling of her fingers on his face is almost familiar now, even if it takes much of his considerable focus not to flinch under her touch. Both of his hands are wrapped tightly around the cool enamel sides of the sink. He can’t flinck, of else her hand will slip and gash his face open. Maybe that’s a blessing. He’s best at playing games with stakes. Mostly, he just needs to calm himself, blank out his mind, focus on the rhythm of her breathing, the way it hitches now and again.

He can trust her hands better than his own. One of the older louts in the Slat’s bunkroom had demonstrated the best angle to slit the throat of a Razorgull panhandler who’d edged onto their turf and on another occasion he’d received instruction in how to most convincingly cut the wrists of a scab who’d ratted some rum smuggling operations to the Staadwatch so as to make the man’s untimely under-custody death resemble, in certain lights a suicide. As such, Kaz had a acquired a good working knowledge of several practical uses of a razon blade, but no one had ever taught him how to shave.

She doesn’t need to say anything, just tilt her head sideways, but he knows to turn his head anyway and let her fingers find purchase again. It’s not about power, but it is about control. His own body, his soul if such things exist, has proven itself the most difficult man Kaz Brekker has ever tried to control. It’s about the control they have over themselves, his wrists and throat bared to her. She could destroy him right here and now with only a slip of her blade, and he’d gladly let her.

Instead she runs the pads of her fingers lighlty over his cheeks, looking for places she’s missed, and, finding none, sets the razor down on the enamel lip of the sink with a light clink. She retracts her knees and jumps down, circling back to her own mirror to plait her hair. He does that for her, sometimes, he’s getting better at getting the wispy bits at her temples and the nape of her neck into the braid proper. He turns the hot water on. These mercher types waste their hard-stolen cash on all means of useless crap and expensive, random posturing, but Kaz’s gotten far more accustomed to hot water on tap than he’d dare let anyone back at the Slat know. Anyone who calls him soft is still more than welcome to a bareknuckle fight. No one’s yet bested him.

(There’s no such thing as a bareknuckle, empty-handed fight in the Barrel and if you think there is, then son you’re got too much honor to make it out of here alive.)

He wastes a minute or so of water until it runs hot over his hands, not feeling terribly broken up about the extravagance. The Ravkan name for Kerch isn’t Vodyzemly without reason. He splashes it on his face, washing the soap and lather from his face, feels the cooling rivulets of water running down his neck and seeping into his shirt, feels her eyes on him. He knows she knows he knows she’s watching. His fingers run along the bottom edge of his sleep shirt and he turns to her, looks her in the eye in one of their thousand silent questions, and peels the shirt off- slower then he needs to, yes, perhaps preening slightly- at her small, decisive nodd. Yes. There’s the tension of the fight in both their shoulders.

He’s conscious, so conscious, of her gaze on him now. When he was small he’d follow the older kids through the fields at the harvest, tying up the bundles of grain they threshed with waxed farmer's twine. Even after the weather turned cold, the boys insisted on working with their shirts off, the girls on shoving their shirtsleeves up and their necklines down. He didn’t understand then. He understands now more of why humans do things like this that they have no need of doing. He has a bathtub now, in a room with a door that locks and he didn’t in the attic of the Slat, but he likes doing this, here, knowing that her eyes are on him and that she’ll probably scold him for indecency in the next ten seconds.

(She doesn’t. He’d be almost disapointed, if he couldn’t hear her breath hitch.)

So instead he splashes hot water on himself, liking the bite of it, running a washcloth up his neck, under his arms, along the planes of his chest. He might not be Nikolai Lantsov, exactly, but this is one part of his self he’s never been uncomfortable in.

He reaches all the way around her to pull a towel from the shelf. He’d ask her except that she looks almost flustered, and that’s a rare thing for the pirate known as the world-shaker. She’s always beautiful, he knows, but there’s something about the rare handful of mornings like this one, carved from the hard living of legend-building, all their armor cast aside. The sea-dark curtain of her hair loose and unbraided over her shoulder, the bare inch of skin at her waist where her shirt rides up or the thick Fjerdan cardigan she wears against the chill that hangs almost to her knees. She sits on the kitchen counters with both her hands wrapped around a massive mug of coffee while she interrogates him on the various doings of Ketterdam’s sketchiest traders. He tells her the worst dirt he knows while he tries to keep eggshells out of the frying pan. Once he had to throw out an entire skillet of eggs and sausage out she cracked up laughing at the rundown of merchant council’s current tetrahedron of cheating.

Not a drop of grisha blood in either of them, breakable and fallible and flesh-and-blood as can be, but sometimes it feels like the other is one of the only people on earth they can be human around.

The towel still wrapped around his shoulders, he loops his thumbs into the waistbnd of his tartan sleep pants and pauses. Another question. Sometimes speaking makes it harder to breach topics like this than gesture. She shakes her head, strongly, not now, not today, and he nods, yes, of course, raises his hands to awkwardly run them through his steam-damp hair.

“Wait, Kaz,” she says, holding a hand out and, very slowly, he laces his fingers through her own. There’s flecks of shell-blue varnish on her nails and a faint tracery of floral designs wrapping around her forearm all the way to her knuckles. He hadn’t noticed when she came in from the sea on the east wind last night. “Kiss me. Please.”

He does.

And then he kisses her again on top of her head, breathing in the salt and soap scent her hair has now, and heads downstairs to get the morning coffee started.

[vancebohn009634]

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[wearethebrokenones]

marry me

Characters: Jim Hopper x Reader

Words: 1,170

Rating: PG

Warnings: None

A/N: So I have no wrote to publish to the world in awhile. I have not really wanted to write for a character until my love for Hopper happened. This is my first little fic of him and I plan to do more. This was a request from a lovely follower/friend on instagram. I am working on a masterlist and such that I hope to have going soon! I suck at summaries and titles. You will all learn that soon.

Summary:Cute proposal from Hopper that did not go how he wanted it.

You stretched your arm as far as could wiping the table with the cloth in your hand, lifting the salt and pepper shakers as you did so. You let your gaze slip out the window to the beautiful evening before you. Downtown Hawkins coming ever so slowly alive with the night outers. 

“Hey Y/N phone!” The voice of your co worker, Stacey, pulled you away from Main and you glided over to the phone taking it from her. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey sweetheart,” the low gravel voice of Hawkins very own police chief, Jim Hopper, ran through your ear and caused you to immediately smile. 

“Hey Hop. What do I owe this lovely surprising phone call at work?”

“Can you come to my place after you get off? We need to talk.”

The last four words sank your stomach. You didn’t want to fear the worst. I mean he did still call you sweetheart right? You always went straight for worst case scenario. 

“Um yeah. Is everything okay Jim?” You used his first name to show your nervousness that was also clearly playing through your voice. 

“Just come over after work you will see. I gotta go. Love you.”

“Love you too,” with that the line went dead and you stood there for a few seconds more listening to the long beep in your ear worry running through you. 

You and Hopper had been together for almost 2 years and dated for several months before then. You both had been damaged what you thought was beyond repair until you met each other and pieces started to fall into place. You both still had issues, why your stomach was currently in knots at the thought of him breaking things off so suddenly with you. You tried to reassure yourself thinking of the fact that he still stated he loved you but he sounded so off. You were thankfully pulled from your thoughts with a ding of the bell over the door signaling that you had a customer. You set yourself into work mode thinking of only that and trying to keep yourself busy until the clock on the wall read eight. You clocked out, hands slightly shaking. You really needed to calm yourself down. The whole ride home you ran your mind over the last few weeks nothing out of the ordinary between you and Hopper jumped out at you. No fighting. Just the usual fussing that you two got into being silly with each other. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe he wanted to finally ask you to move in. It could be anything. You tried to make yourself think of anything else. You sang to a few songs on the radio until you finally pulled up to Hopper’s cabin. His blazer nowhere to be seen yet. Great he was late. You used the key he gave you and stepped inside the only light was a lamp in the living room that set a dim illumination around the place. You flipped on the tv for noise and right off set yourself into busy mode. You cleaned, you watched tv, you even fixed something to eat, you did anything too busy yourself. You walked into Hopper’s room and changed into one of his old shirts and slipped on a pair of your pajama pants you had left there. As you came out of his room you heard the sound of his blazer pulling up and shutting off. His heavy footsteps quicken and matching your rapid heartbeat and then he was through the door. He looked flustered and slightly upset. 

“I am so sorry I’m late sweetheart,” he spoke as he slipped off his hat, his jacket, and didn’t even bother with his boots. 

“What’s going on Jim? You have had me freaked out all evening after that phone call you made to me.”

He had to have known you were slightly upset and worried because it was written all over your face and if anyone could read you like a book it was Hopper. He seemed to think for a second almost a second too long. 

“I had this whole thing planned out. The place was suppose to be all ready when you get home but damn work for once kept me from doing this right but hell I don’t even care. Here we go,” he babbled away and your eyebrows knitted together in absolute confusion. 

He took the few steps towards you and grabbed your hands. You laced your fingers with his and he started rubbing patterns on the back of your hands. 

“I’m not great with words but I’m going to do my best here,” he started taking a breathe and you smiled softly to yourself at his nervousness still wondering what the hell was happening. 

“Y/N the first time I met you I knew I was in trouble. I knew there was no hope for me in trying to stay away from you and not fall down the rabbit hole of love again but boy I did. I never thought I’d be in this place again. I feel again. I love again. I’ve never been happier in my life. You have made me the happiest man on this earth and Y/N I really want to spend the rest of my life making you the happiest woman.”

Holy shit. Was the actually happening? Tears were in your eyes as Hopper dropped to one knee in front of you after reaching into his pant pocket and pulling out a small box. He slowly opened it, a smile spread so wide on his face, tears gathering in his eyes. You gasped at the ring before you. Simple but incredibly beautiful. 

“Y/F/N will you marry me?” 

Your smile could have broke your face and the happy tears were already flowing down your face. 

“Jim Hopper I wouldn’t want anything more! Yes I’ll marry you!” 

His rumbled of a laugh filled the room as he slipped the ring on your finger and then he was up and pulling you into his arms and spinning you around both of you laughing and crying. You let your hands slip to the sides of his face, cupping his cheeks before kissing him deeply. He still held you in the air bringing you down slowly with the kiss never letting his arms leave from around you before pulling away slowly still smiling. 

“I’m sorry it wasn’t overly romantic or anything. Like I said I had everything planned out but...”

“Hopper it was perfect,” you cut him off with a smile. 

He cupped your cheek and leaned down to kiss you again. You pulled away and pulled your left arm between the two of you so you could look at the ring. 

“It’s so beautiful and perfect,” you commented and then looked up at him, his eyes just taking you in. 

“I can’t wait to start forever with you Jim Hopper.”

“Neither can I Mrs. Hopper.”

“Y/N Hopper? It has a nice ring to it.”

[calpalirwin]

Still Into You

Summary: True snippets of a girl (me) in love with her best guy friend (Mr. Hubs) and all their sometimes depressing, but always dorky life together.

A/N: So @carebearofriddles​ and @baldcalum​ LOVE my stories of me and my hubs, so I decided to share this with all of you lovely people. Obviously it’s been tweaked into an Ash fic, but all the following stories are 100% true. And after posting Part 1, they both yelled at me for Part 2. And now it’s time for Part 3!

Content: Hell if I know anymore. Wedding planning hell. Mostly upbeat shit. Probably cussing because it’s me.

And away, and away we go!

Part 3

~2018-2019~

“Hey, Shay,” her friend David said, peeking his head in the room. “Irwin’s like really great.”

She laughed. “Gee, thanks?”

David rolled his eyes. “No, I mean, I always thought he was an idiot.”

“You and everybody else.”

He waved his hand at her to tell her to stop interrupting him. “But, I see what you see in him. No one asked him to keep an eye on my kid, but he’s doing it anyway. Just chasing him around.”

This made Shay smile. David’s son was Shay’s godson, and her and David had gotten rather close since the little boy had been born. Shay viewed David as an older brother. So his approval and admittance that he saw in Ashton what she had seen the whole time, made her heart soar.

~~~

“It’s upside down…” Ashton said, frowning at the tattoo on her wrist.

“It is not!” Shay gasped, smacking him lightly in the chest.

“Is too.”

“Not to me it isn’t.”

“To the rest of the world it is.”

“So, do you not like it?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But do you?”

“Does it matter if I do or not? You already did it. And you know I don’t care.”

“True,” she smiled at him. He had proposed to her in fuckin sweatpants for fuck’s sake. This man had never once cared about her appearance. It was great.

~~~

“This isn’t the way you take home,” Shay said, turning in her seat to look at Ashton.

“I know. Gotta stop somewhere first.”

She narrowed her eyes, wondering what he could possibly be up to this time.

“Sees Candies?” she said, once he pulled into a parking space.

“Yeah! You can make your own box of chocolate so it’s only the stuff you like,” he grinned at her. God, he was so proud of himself.

She leaned over and kissed him. “Have I told you that you’re my favorite?”

He scoffed playfully. “I better be your only.”

“I’ll tell the others to step their game up.”

~~~

“Is Pam wearing makeup?” Ashton asked, moving to peer closer at the TV as they watched The Office.

“Yes… Most girls do…”

He turned his attention from the TV screen to Shay. “You don’t. You used to. But you stopped.”

“Yeah, cuz you said you didn’t like it.”

He pulled a face. “I don’t like when you wear lip stuff cuz it tastes funny when I kiss you. But I liked how it looked on you eyes.”

“Are you saying you want me to start wearing eyeshadow again?” she laughed.

He shrugged. “If you want. But, it’s not like you need it.”

“Nobody needs makeup. We just wear it because we like how it makes us feel.”

“Makes you feel?”

“Yeah. Beautiful and stuff. Or, I assume anyway. I don’t wear it, so I wouldn’t actually know.”

“But you’re already… nevermind. Wear makeup, don’t wear makeup, I don’t really care.”

“I know,” she smiled at him.

~~~

“This one!” she grinned, showing him the puppy on her phone.

“Really? Again with the puppy? I thought we were trying to move out?”

She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “We’ve been trying to move out for 2 years and something always falls through at the last second. C’mon, please? She’s so cute.”

“Your mom is gonna kill us.”

“Fine. Give me a baby, then.”

He choked. “Really? That’s where we’re at now? Puppy or baby?”

“Puppy or baby.”

He sighed. “Alright, let’s go.”

“Yes!” she cheered, “Oh, I love you!”

“You fuckin better…”

~~~

“So…” she started, biting into her lower lip.

“So?” he prompted.

“School’s gonna take me a year longer than I thought. I thought I could take a certain set of class together in the same semester, but I have to take them in sequence.”

“Okay…”

“So, I’m not graduating before we get married. I’ll graduate a year later.”

“Oh…”

“Yeah, I’m mad about it too. But…”

“But, what?”

“But, I don’t want to push back to wedding. I can handle school taking me a year longer as long as everything else stays as is.”

He shrugged. “Alright then. If that’s what you want.”

She nodded. “It is what I want. And another thing… kids.”

“Kids?”

“Yeah. I know we always said we wanted to be married a year before we started trying. But, I want to start trying right away. I don’t want to wait.”

“Alright then. If that’s what you want,” he repeated with another shrug.

~~~

“Head hurts, again?” he murmured softly, walking into to find her lying in bed in the dark.

She nodded against the pillows. “This fuckin sucks…” she muttered. Her head had started hurting her a month ago. A headache from hell, that had eventually gone away. But, now? Well now she was on day 5 of unrelenting head pain. It ebbed and flowed, and right now it was flowing.

“Should probably go to the doctor.”

“Should probably do a lot of things. I think something’s wrong with my birth control.”

“Birth control?”

“Yeah, I only started having these damn headaches when they changed my prescription.”

“You said it was the same dosage, just a different name.”

“Well, I didn’t have these headaches before.”

“So, what do you want to do? Quit birth control?” he laughed.

“Yes!”

“I was kidding…”

“I’m not. My head is on fuckin fire. I can’t focus on anything.”

“Okay, okay. Quit then. We’ll figure something else out.”

~~~

“Well, I can go on this,” Shay offered, showing him her phone. She had been off birth control for a month and their sex life had taken a significant hit. They were still wary of condom use, and while Shay had stopped caring about the stigma of an unplanned pregnancy long ago, she knew Ashton wasn’t as willing to be as carefree as her.

“What is it?” he asked.

“It’s an IUD. It goes in. We forget about it,” she explained. “Might make me stop getting my period though, so I’m kinda iffy about it,” she added with a frown. Getting her period every month was the only way the two of them ever breathed easy. She wasn’t sure what she would do without that guaranteed safety net.

“It goes in?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah… like…” she mimed shoving a finger in herself.

“No,” he shook his head. “You’re not doing that. I’m not… no.” He continued to shake his head as his eyes grew haunted.

She smiled softly at him, resting her hands on his shoulders. “I’m fine, you know that, right?”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore. We’ll figure something else out. No one’s touching you.”

~~~

“It’s a lower dosage,” she explained, shaking the box at him.

“But it’s still the pill?”

“Yeah. It’ll work the same as the other stuff.”

“Okay. Do we have to wait a week like we did that one time?”

“Yes.”

“Damn.”

“We can do other stuff,” she said, wrapping her arms around him.

He breathed her in. “No… cuz then I’m gonna… no. Stop it!”

She pouted, “You’re no fun.”

~~~

“Lucy, stop barking,” Ashton scolded their dog as she barked and huffed at their bedroom door.

“It’s the ghosts,” Shay said simply, rolling over on her side.

“Where’s the salt,” he said, getting out of bed, and turning on the light.

Shay threw an arm over her eyes as the room brightened and laughed “Get back here. And turn off the damn light.”

He came back with the salt shaker, shaking it across the room. “Gotta protect from the ghosts.”

“You’re ridiculous. And now there’s salt in the bed. Thanks!” Shay continued to laugh.

“No ghosts getting in here,” he muttered to himself, turning off the light and getting back into bed.

“Thank you for protecting me from the ghosts,” she teased.

“Oh, I did that for me. I don’t care if the ghosts get you.”

~~~

Shay texted Ashton a picture of Lucy curled up on his side of the bed.

She misses you.

Sleepy bitch

She is a sleepy bitch. Resting for her midnight bork.

She better not be borking at midnight

It’s the ghosts.

Get the salt!

Shay laughed.

~~~

“Good girlfriend!” Ashton cooed, patting Shay’s head as she got in the car with their dinner.

“I’m not your girlfriend,” she said, giving him a fake angry face.

He mocked her face and drove them home.

“You parked me in the bush again!” she yelled at him once they were home. “Fuckin park normal, you heathen!”

“Maybe if you were my girlfriend, I wouldn’t park you in a bush!” he fired back.

“Shut the fuck up,” she laughed, knocking into his shoulder as they walked into the house.

~~~

“Wait, so what do we still need to plan for the wedding?” Ashton asked.

“Just food. I got everything else figured out,” Shay said. Then, “Have you picked your side of the wedding party yet? I need to know so I can send the boys their colors.”

“They’re not all wearing the same color?”

“No… Cuz it’s a Harry Potter wedding? God, use your head.”

He rolled his eyes. “Alright, fine. Food. The guys. What else?”

“We need to mail invitations. Which means we need to make invitations and I need to get addresses.”

He sighed. “Alright. So me that design thing whatever, and I’ll use the computer at work to make it look better.”

“So, then all we need is food,” Shay smiled.

“Right. Food. What do y-”

“In-n-out!” she interrupted.

He groaned. “Alright… call them. See if we can get it.”

~~~

“Good night!” Shay laughed, reclining her seat back.

“Hey! You can’t do that!” Ashton told her. “You can’t sleep while I drive.”

“Hmm… ‘in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer’ nope, nothing about me not being able to sleep while you drive.”

“Well, my vows are gonna say you can’t do that!”

“That’s not how vows work!” she laughed.

~~~

“We waited too long!” she yelled at him.

“What?!”

“In-N-Out! I’m on a waiting list! This is why I wanted you to start planning with me back when I got my dress.”

“I don’t know how to plan a wedding!”

“Neither do I! Now we gotta get tacos like a bunch of losers!”

“You like tacos…”

“Everybody likes tacos!”

“So, what’s wrong with that?”

“Everybody does tacos! Birthday parties! Weddings! Family get togethers! Tacos! I wanted to be unique! I wanted to eat a burger on my wedding day! And we waited too long!”

He sighed. “Do you wanna go to Target and print out our invitations tomorrow?”

“Yes…”

~~~

“How many did you order?” the lady working the photo center asked.

“50,” Shay told her.

“Okay, it’ll be about 10 minutes.”

“Alright, thanks.”

“What do you wanna do for 10 minutes?” Ashton asked.

Shay shrugged, already wandering off. “It’s Target.”

Being them, it wasn’t long until they were in the toy aisle, looking at Nerf guns. “What did we need to get again?” Ashton asked, crouching down to compare prices and firing capabilities.

“Wedding invitations…”

“Right… so that’s no on the Nerf guns?”

“These ones are only 20 bucks,” she said, grabbing one of the smaller Nerf guns off the shelf.

“So, Nerf guns?”

“Nerf guns!”

~~~

“My tongue feels gross,” Shay told Ashton.

“That’s gross…”

“I’ve been licking those damn envelopes all day! No thanks to you.”

“Hey, my handwriting sucks. You really want me addressing the invitations?”

“No, but you could’ve helped…”

“I made the invitation, didn’t I?”

She rolled her eyes. “Did you pick a first song yet? I was nice and sent you 3 non-country ones. They’re all about 3 minutes.”

“Yeah, let’s do the Paramore one.”

“Is that because that’s the one you know?”

“Yes…”

“Did you even listen to the other ones?”

“Yes. And I like the Paramore one.”

She shrugged, she had figured he would pick that one. “Alright. Paramore it is.”

~~~

“Dude!” she screeched, skidding to a halt in front of him.

“Dude, what?!”

“The apartment place called! We got it!”

“Holy shit, really?!”

“Yeah! Gotta go out there tomorrow to fill out paperwork and get keys!”

“Yes! We’re moving!”

“We’re moving!”

The timing couldn’t be better. The wedding was in 6 weeks.

~~~

I just lost my shit in a target cuz a mixture of a sad movie and my earlier issues just went boom. They think I’m more upset cuz you didn’t respond. And like no. Upset cuz too many families Shay texted Ashton. She had already texted him that morning when she woke up to her girlfriends on the phones with their partners and kids. One weekend. She wanted one fuckin weekend where her girls were her girls again, not the mothers they had become without her.

Are you mad I didn’t respond

No. Cuz I know how you feel. That doesn’t bother me at all Shay typed back. Her and Ashton had been doing this back and forth for a long time now. She admired his desire to want to be able to provide for both her and any kids they would eventually have. It didn’t do much to dull her desire to have kids anyway. But she didn’t blame Ashton for having his opinion on the matter. It was his life. He had just as much say in when they would have kids as she did.

You know I’m a pessimist

I know you are. I know you see the rational financial aspect to everything. And that’s good cuz I prefer to ignore that aspect and just go with the cuteness

Yeah like who’s gonna take care of it

Me. That’s why I want a baby next summer. I’ll be off so I can stay home and do the bonding thing and figure out daycare before I go to my credential program. Contrary to popular belief, she had also spent a lot of time in thinking things through about having kids rather than just focusing on her want of having them.

~~~

“We’re getting married today,” Shay giggled as they got ready on the morning of July 20th.

“Yeah, no shit. C’mon, you wanted to get your nails done.”

“Are you gonna get yours done too?”

“I’m not getting my nails painted.”

“I didn’t ask if you were getting them painted. I asked if you were getting them done.”

He glanced at his fingers. “Yeah, I guess.”

~~~

“Uh, freeway’s that way,” Shay pointed, still admiring her silver nail polish.

“I know. But I’m hungry,” he said, pulling into the In-N-Out drive-thru.

“In-N-Out for breakfast, huh?”

“Well, I was gonna surprise you and get it after the wedding, but we’re not leaving in my car. So, yeah.”

She laughed. “You’re my favorite.”

“I better be.”

~~~

“Hey, c’mon,” he whispered to her.

“What?” Shay asked, coming over to her.

“Secret wedding, let’s go,” he grinned, grabbing her hand and pulling her out of the small room she had claimed to get ready in.

She giggled, happily going with him. In the height of their annoyance from their wedding becoming less about them and more about the family they didn’t want to invite, Shay had joked that they should just elope to piss everybody off. It got to the point where when they picked up their marriage license, she had pointed out the chapel just three feet away. “No,” he had laughed, “I spent way too much money to get married anywhere else.”

Ashton and Shay looked around to make sure they were alone. “C’mon,” Ashton urged their friend who had become an ordained minister to marry his friends.

“Shay, do you take this man to be your husband?”

“I do!”

“Really?”

“Yes!” she laughed.

“Irwin, do you take her to be your wife?”

“Hell yeah.”

“Alright, kiss the bride.”

Ashton pressed his lips against hers underneath the redwood tree that decorated the yard of the small venue. They had done it. They were finally husband and wife. And they had done it their way, in t-shirts and jeans. Now to put on a show for everyone else’s sake.

[the--blackdahlia]

Legends of Yesterday Chapter 1 (Dean x Reader)

Title: Legends of Yesterday Chapter 1

Summary: Dean and (Y/n) are in love. But when a mysterious stranger shows up out of nowhere, making claims to the both of them, can they keep their happiness?

Warnings: Maybe just language, badly translated Greek, and a total ripoff of a scene from the Flash.

AN: I don’t think I ever posted the original on here, but I had written a different version of this before and scrapped it to rewrite it this way. This is part 1 of the Legends series. Hopefully you guys like this! Shout out to @anathewierdo for all your help!

“You have disobeyed me for the last time!”

“Don’t do this! Please!”

“Silence!”

“She is no longer yours.”

“No!”

“Pandora…”

****

(Y/n) set up with a gasp, a cold sweat breaking out on her skin. She ran a hand down her face, catching her breath. This dream had been happening more and more frequently. She couldn’t explain it. Neither could Sam or Dean. She was just thankful that they were out of town, hunting a vampire nest in Texas.

She set in bed for a second, just taking in the silence of the room. This dream was almost too real. Sometimes, she actually thought she was there. She couldn’t really see much; it was too blurry. The voices were clearly male though, this Pandora or whatever not having a say in what was going on. (Y/n) finally pulled herself out of bed and made her way to the bathroom. She was in desperate need of a shower before work. No one was going to give tips to a sweaty mess.

The warm water rushed over her, waking her up and loosening the tight muscles. She didn’t sleep great when Dean wasn’t next to her, but here lately, she had been waking him up one too many times with the hyper realistic voices talking to her. She knew he didn’t mind; he had been there too, waking her up with his visions of hell and such. But she just felt bad doing it to him all the same. He was too good for her, despite what he told her and even himself.

“Do I really have to go to work?” (Y/n) asked herself as she got dressed. She didn’t have a uniform like most traditional diners that they had been to, but she still had to have an apron and she still had to look presentable. So no Lynyrd Skynyrd t-shirts and blood stained jeans. She was the only one out of the three of them that still had a wholesome record. She just had a few little tickets here and there for speeding and such, but didn’t everyone?

Well, obviously not Sam and Dean, but that was a totally different story.

She brushed her hair and teeth before heading out to work. She was going to be there all day, but the first half of the day was just taking inventory and ordering whatever was needed. Her boss trusted her more than he trusted his other employees and often left her to run it while he went out and about. Today was no different, but that’s how she made the big bucks.

Out of habit, (Y/n) quietly left the bunker, making sure the door didn’t slam. No one else was home, but she was just so used to doing it. She hated to wake the boys up so early, even though Dean was usually up not even five seconds of her leaving.

****

The day had flown by. Inventory had been quick, so (Y/n) got to go back home for a couple hours and get some things done around the bunker before heading back into work. She knew that was usually a mistake because she wouldn’t want to leave, but Sam and Dean still weren’t back yet. It was cold and quiet without them around to liven the place up, even when they weren’t talking to each other.

So she headed back to work, taking orders and ringing up meals. It wasn’t a horribly busy night due to it being the middle of the week. But this weekend would be a lot busier, and as the head manager, she would have her work cut out for her. That is, if she had to work this weekend. Thankfully, she had requested a weekend off. She deserved it.

Soon, the restaurant closed for the night and (Y/n) stayed behind to lock up the drawer and clean everything up. She was about to throw away what was left of the day’s pie when she heard an all too familiar rumble pull up outside. She turned to look as Dean appeared in front of the door, knocking lightly. (Y/n) smiled and unlocked the door, letting Dean in.

“Why, hello there handsome.” (Y/n) laughed. Dean just smiled and pulled her to him, kissing her deeply. “Mmmmm Dean.”

“I missed you.” He said.

“I missed you too honey.” (Y/n) said, taking his hand and leading him to a table to sit down. “I’m taking it that the hunt went well?”

“Sammy got a little banged up, but that hair protected him.” Dean joked. (Y/n) took the pie and set it on the table in front of Dean with a fork. He looked up at her, a little confused.

“If you don’t eat it, it’s gonna be thrown away.” (Y/n) explained.

“Well, we can’t let that happen.” Dean laughed. He took a bite and smiled. “God (Y/n), you’re the best.” (Y/n) smiled.

“Well, I’m glad you think so babe.” She kissed his cheek while he munched on his pie then went to fill any salt shakers that were low. “I’m just glad that everything went okay for the two of you. But are Sam’s injuries that need stitched up kind or the just an ice pack kind?”

“Just an ice pack kind.” Dean mumbled around a mouthful of pie. (Y/n) put the salt refill away and went over to him, wrapping her arms around him. Dean scooted back from the table and pulled (Y/n) into his lap and burying his nose into her neck. “I probably should’ve called before I showed up, but I wanted to surprise you.”

“But if you would’ve called, I could’ve been at home waiting in your favorite outfit.” (Y/n) whispered into his ear, making the hunter shiver some.

“Maybe I should’ve called then.” Dean said, placing kisses on (Y/n)’s neck. “Could’ve told Sam to go to a motel for the night.” (Y/n) blushed a little and was about to kiss Dean when the door opened and someone walked in. (Y/n) turned to look.

“Hey, we’re closed.” Dean commented. But the man did not seem to listen.

“Faínesai ómorfi se aftí ti zoí ópos sto parelthón.” The man said. “You look as beautiful in this life as in the past.” Dean moved (Y/n) off of his lap and stood up. The man didn’t seem to be taking the hint.

“We have money. Just take it and go.” (Y/n) said, a small hint of fear in her voice. Monsters she could handle. People? They were unpredictable.

“I do not want money.” The man said, stalking closer to her and Dean. “I just want you my darling Pandora.” (Y/n) froze. Pandora? Was she in her dream again? Has she never woken up?

“There’s no one named Pandora here,” Dean grabbed the gun that he carried on him at all times. “Now why don’t you just get out of here before things get ugly?”

“Really now?” The man laughed, a smile on his face. “You modern men and your guns. Flash a pistol and you bring the world to your feet. Personally, I think they are just overcompensating for something you’re lacking.” He cleared his throat. “Now, I’m not leaving here without her. So just step aside.”

“Over my dead body.” Dean snapped back. The man pulled a knife out from an inside pocket in his jacket.

“That can be arranged.” The man said, a little too gleeful. He looked past Dean towards (Y/n). “You do blend in quite nicely this time around. Really immersing yourself in this time period.” Dean stepped into his line of sight. “Give her to me and I’ll make your death fast and honorable.”

“Not a chance.” Dean growled. He aimed his gun and fired a couple shots. But the man just smiled and waved his hand, turning the bullets to dust in midair.

“Oh my god.” (Y/n) gasped.

“What the hell are you?” Dean asked. The man just raised his arm to throw the knife in Dean’s direction.

“Hey!” Another voice said. The man turned as Cas appeared behind him. “I think you’re done here.”

“So is he.” The man chucked the knife at Dean then, barely missing him as (Y/n) pushed him to the ground and Cas used his grace to stop it.

“Where did he go?” Dean asked, sitting up and looking at (Y/n) to make sure she was okay. Cas looked around, not seeing the man anywhere. “And it took you long enough to get here.”

“I was busy.” Cas grumbled. The knife clattered to the floor in front of (Y/n) and Dean. She crawled forward and picked it up, staring at it. Cas walked over to her as Dean stood up and offered his hand to her. “I think we should get back to the bunker.” Cas said, looking around.

“Are you okay?” Dean asked, helping (Y/n) to her feet and taking the knife from her.

“Let’s get out of here.” (Y/n) said. “I drove here though.”

“Cas?” Dean asked, looking at his friend. The angel nodded and held out his hand for (Y/n)’s keys. Dean wasn’t about to let her out of his sight, not after everything. Dean helped (Y/n) lock up the restaurant and they headed out to Baby. (Y/n) just wasn’t sure how to handle all of this.

“We’ll figure this out.” Dean assured her, driving back towards the bunker. (Y/n) nodded, but somewhere deep down, she wasn’t so sure.

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