#though its also just about wanting to put everything down on paper as a substitute

[playingonedchess]

339 posts of bullshit i really can never shut up

[lncarnon]

To be apart was, on occasion and simply put, pure agony for the Omnic. Whatever could be a substitute for the human heart, whatever wires or circuits nestled inside her chest stood in its place, she swore she could feel it all breaking as the distance between them grew ever wider, as the time apart grew ever longer. Phone and video calls did little to soothe her and even as the romantic in her took to pen and paper, writing down her sorrow and love in physical ink, her fingers yearned to touch him all the while.

She would call Max a romantic too give the way he spoiled her so. It was during their last call that she told him how deep her loneliness ran, that even all the rain in Paris could never be enough to cry for her, that he offered her a flight to see him. The smile on her face didn't look so fake that night as she bid him good night and promises of tomorrow. A private flight, just for her. Oh, what that man did to her.

It was only an hour trip one she finally boarded, though Luna's figurative heart seemed to flutter each minute until she found herself safe again within his arms, a day to hold him and stay close, even if he had to attend to his own matters of business. Her arrival was almost spontaneous, a wish turned into whim.

It was when the night fell and Max was all entirely hers, the two of them locked away from the world that she let it be known just how much she missed him. They had barely gotten the door closed behind them when she had her hands on him, pressing him against the door just shut as her arms wrap around him and her face is pressed to his chest. Her eyes grow dim, as if they are shut. She only wishes to feel him, just him, for a moment. " I've missed you, " A soft voice full of love and so much unsaid yearning. Her face upturns then, her eyes once more a soft blue. Hands slip from around him and around his waist before the slip lower and press against his thighs.

" Have you missed me, my darling ? "

To say that he would move the world if Luna wished it, was a drastic understatement of the lengths Max would go to, if only to keep her happy. He was not a person who often felt any degree of true happiness for the things he did, the life he led. But, her? She made everything more tolerable, a reason beyond spite to continue getting up every morning to deal with the inane nonsense that others forced him to endure.

So when she had barely even hinted at the idea of wanting to see him, Maximilien had dropped everything to make it possible. Fortunately he was an exceptional multitasker, dealing with Talon holdings and nodding along to a video conference call while arranging transport. It was less than a few simple requests sent to his various assistants and everything fell into place, with him relaying the details of her upcoming flight with haste.

The fact that anyone wanted to be with him was a miracle in and of itself, and Max was not about to squander what he felt was the one, truly, lucky happening in his life. Which alone should speak volumes considering he had often spoken towards the fact he did not believe in such things. Luck is a lie created by humans to explain away their lack of understanding for a situation, be it in their favor or otherwise. Everything could be explained, rationalized, calculated.

Except her.

Luna defied every aspect of what he believed, what he could normally expect out of people. It felt maddening. It is also the greatest reason he loves her.

When the aircraft touches down and she finally is there beside him, everything else seems to melt away. All his worries fade into the buzz of background noise, the people, the violence, the cruelty, all quieted while they bask in the presence of one another. The car ride was uneventful, Max knowing well enough despite everything that he had to save face and leave any emotional displays for behind closed doors. As far as he let anyone else know, the two of them were friends, and nothing more. He'd explained it away once before, that people hated to see an omnic with such success and would do anything to see his life crumble.

But as soon as they disappear into his lavish home? All bets are off.

The door closes and he engages the magnetic lock, a necessary measure that only worked half the time. If anyone really wanted onto the premises a door wasn't going to stop them.

Turning back to face Luna he is not entirely surprised at how quickly she is to act, a soft chuckle ebbing out of Max as his arms wrap around her in turn. It was a sweet moment that he knew would eventually take a turn for something far less innocent, and the pace she was already setting for it to change was almost surprising. Almost, but not quite.

"I have missed you for every second we have been apart," he professes. "Not a day goes by where you are not in my thoughts."

He brings a hand upwards to cradle the curve of her face, while the other slides down the length of her back.

"Every consideration of.. what we might be doing, were we together," Max continues while staring into her bright gaze. His hand skims over the surface of her glittering dress until he finds the zipper along the back, tugging it downwards in a single gliding motion.

"All the lost time which we can now account for, without interruption." He would be smiling, had he been able to. Removing his hand from Luna's features he is seemingly moving with practiced intentions, drawing the straps down from her shoulders so the fabric may freely fall from her figure.

"No one could take me from you."

[slapegg]

Some thoughts about... Theatrhythm Final Bar Line... The Demo

I'm not bothering to spell-check "Theatrhythm". Any time I put the title down on paper and all associated typos are in the gods' hands.

Theatrhythm is one of the top 3 rhythm games and one of the best games on the 3DS, so I was very excited to hear about a new one. It just had one of the best progressions and meta gameplay systems in a game that totally changes how you play without ever changing the rules or core gameplay.

The new one... is pretty much this series again. And that's good! It adds a kind of "story mode" with the Series Quests. You go through a mostly linear progression of songs from a particular title and each song has a goal associated with it. The boss may also change stats or add special conditions to the fight. It's pretty basic stuff and doesn't drastically change how you play since most of the goals are just a variation on "play well", but they can force you to change up your team if the enemies inside have a resistance to the elements or attack types of your favored characters. There is also an "Auto optimize" button that purports to just pick the best team from what you have available, but it seems to only change your Summon and what skills the already equipped team uses. I thought it would match up a magic user with a magic stage and all that, so the current implementation leaves much to be desired.

Man though, there is a ton of content in the demo. It has multiple titles with multiple songs in each, you can get about a third of the way through the quests in the title, and there are at least 4, and usually more, characters unlocked for each title. Characters have a pretty generous level cap so it mainly just caps your "money" gained and prevents one type of item from dropping (the profile cards). It took me two days to get through the demo (and even then there are a few quests I couldn't complete with the current level caps) and the counter said I'd be at 4% quest completion if I transfer everything over to the full game.

The bad stuff. I'm totally not sold on the new multi-note system where you have to hit multiple lanes at the same time, even having to do multiple flicks at the same time. Thankfully, you can turn it off, but the UI in-stage doesn't change, so it can look a bit confusing. However, turning off the multi-notes also gets rid of all the flick triggers. I don't want to overly simplify it, I just want to get rid of the one bad thing. So easy is too easy and normal has the bad stuff. Ugh.

Also, the game really feels different without a stylus/touch screen. The physical movement of tapping, holding, tracing, and flicking was a part of the experience and just tapping a button on a controller is a poor substitute. Without the stylus, I really thought this franchise would be dead with the passing of the 3DS. And you're losing out on Street Passes. I was lucky enough to live in a populated area when the first game came out, so it was so fun getting those on the subway to/from work. Having it on a portable system was also nice because you could just flip it open, play a few songs, and then close it and get back to work, versus having to load up the console version. And no, I don't consider the Switch "portable" thanks to its size, battery life, lousy controllers, and cost compared to the DS.

There's a lot of content here, but also a crazy price point for the game. $50 for the basic game and $100 for the complete game with a nonsense system of DLC packs and exclusive songs. And of course, no one DLC pack is filled with great songs. Each one has a couple of good ones and then the rest are cruft. Just use the original's DLC implementation where you bought each song separately. I paid $10-20 for Theaterhythm, bought some DLC, AND bought Theatrhythm Curtain Call all for cheaper than just the basic version of this game.

I'm still looking forward to getting the full game and the demo did a fantastic job of assuaging fears about the new systems, but between the new systems and having to play it on a controller, the game feels noticeably worse to play and experience. There's nothing that can really be done about that given the original system the franchise was made for is dead now and the team did a fine job porting it to a controller, but it's just not the same. It takes Theatrhythm from a must buy to a wait for a sale, especially for all the DLC nonsense to get worked out.

[shurisneakers]

shut in [7]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: cursing, implied abuse, death, implied ptsd, injuries, broken bone, origami and paper planes

Word count: 3.7k

A/N: ONE MORE WEEK !!!!!!!!! ONE MORE WEEK !!!!!!!! also gif is somewhat related except steve isn’t there sorry to crush any hopes

i also appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!! also if you want to be on the taglist, it’s mentioned at the bottom of the chapter.

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

“Is there a reason you’re back so early?”

Both of the men nervously glanced at each other, silently urging the other to talk. A quiet form of encouragement.

“We chec- we checked all the neighbouring towns. All your safehouses,” one of them finally sputtered up after his partner elbowed him in the ribs.

“And?”

“We coordinated with all our guys across the country to look for them-”

“All I’m hearing are a bunch of excuses,” they twirled the gun on its barrel like it was a plaything. “Get to the point.”

“No one knows where they’re hiding,” he finished, swallowing thickly. “We’re still looking though. We just thought-”

“What?” their voice was surprisingly calm. “That your little status update would impress me? That I’d feel sorry for you for working so hard?”

“N-no boss,” his partner finally pitched in, saving face for his companion who opened and shut his mouth wordlessly. “Just keeping you in the loop. We’re close, I can feel-”

“Do you remember what I told you the last time you were here?”

Both of them shut their mouths immediately. Knuckles white, nails digging into their skin as they clenched their fists shut.

“That you wanted them dead,” the first one said with faux confidence. A waver in his voice gave it away.

��Yes, but you’re forgetting the important part,” they tsk’ed, shaking their head, eyes downcast.

They didn’t give anyone a chance to react. They slammed the gun down, swiftly picking it up before taking aim at his partner’s face.

“I said I’d blow your brains out.” They pulled the trigger.

Bits of bone fragment and blood splattered across the first agent’s face. He inhaled sharply, chest rising and falling haphazardly. He had his eyes shut tightly, face away from the carcass slumped over next to him..

“I want every fucking part of this country searched,” they roared, throwing the gun to the side carelessly, leaving someone else to scurry after it. “And since it’s so fucking hard for you to finish two tasks, just get me their location.”

The agent barely nodded, looking like he was about to throw up. His partner’s blood trailed down the side of his face like sweat.

“I’ll kill them myself.”

Hugh Grant was starting to look less appealing on your 6th rewatch of Notting Hill. In fact, he was starting to blend together with the characters from Die Hard and it was becoming difficult to differentiate which part belonged to which movie.

Sam sat opposite to you at the dining table, a set of papers assigned in front of him. The TV was left on, serving as background noise and occasional fillers to substitute the lack of conversation.

“That movie is not making sense anymore,” he stated objectively.

“It stopped after the third time for me.” Your words were hushed, your focus remaining on the swan you were trying to create from scratch.

“If I hear her say ‘I’m just a girl, standing in front of a boy’ one more time, I actually think I’ll projectile vomit.” You could tell that his eyes didn’t shift from the screen though. “I can feel the bile. It’s going to happen.”

You only hummed in agreement, more interested in his lamenting than the actual movie.

Although origami wasn’t one of the skills you picked up in the fucking mafia, you still knew a few basic things. The rest you just folded with confidence and prayed it would work.

What other options did you have when you were stuck together in a house with no WiFi?

Sam had made a paper bowl to hold the car keys and the few dollars you picked up from Pierce’s place. It looked like it would fall apart at any given moment, its structural integrity questionable at best.

You had made a small flower that rested on the table in front of you. You were sure it would go missing the minute a draft entered the room.

He had given up after his contribution of the bowl. Apparently his creative expertise extended only towards that and paper airplanes, not that that stopped him. He was folding and manufacturing them with a vengeance.

“How is this supposed to help, Wilson?” you questioned, unable to contain the smile that grew on your face at the sheer number of planes he was making.

“Just because it’s not a decorative marvel-” he shot back in its defence, “-doesn’t mean it’s useless.”

“Oh, yeah? What else can it do other than not fly?” You watched as he launched one of them. It did a loop before falling miserably to the floor.

“Hey, you can put a message in it. Maybe one of those button trackers, a microphone. The possibilities are endless.” He laughed, folding another one out of the limited supply of paper he had left. “Besides, your thing won’t even lift off the ground.”

“Yeah, but this one can float.” You held up the swan that you had created. That about concluded your knowledge of origami.

“That’s actually… pretty cool,” he admitted. “Teach me how to make one.”

“A true master never reveals their secrets,” you eluded, placing it on the table.

“I dare you to make another.” Sneaky bastard. He knew you wouldn’t be able to replicate it. He saw you struggle the first time.

“Why, so you can just copy off of me?” you dodged, and Sam narrowed his eyes at you. You followed the same.

Neither of you blinked for a while.

“I’m out of paper,” he finally relented, gesturing to the fleet of planes that littered the table.

“I’m out of ideas.” You paused, looking down at how you’d spent the last hour. “Do you wanna go test these outside later?”

Sam looked up eagerly and you could just tell he was intending on getting competitive. “Hell yeah.”

“I’m going for a run in some time.” You got up to stretch your limbs, shrug off the fatigue that was setting in. Along the way you left the swan and one of the paper planes on top of the mini fridge alongside the car keys. It was cute. “We could do it then?”

“Sure,” he affirmed. “What time?”

“At around 6-” your eyes landed on the clock on the wall before widening, “-shit, shit, shit, I didn't realise it was five thirty. We have a call with Ransone.”

“Phone’s on the couch,” he mentioned to the living room, sitting up straight. “Why are you freaking out? We still got a few minutes to go.”

You pushed yourself away from the table, forcing yourself to shakie off the drowsiness that had begun to set in.

“You wouldn’t get it,” you mumbled, “He gets pissy if I don’t do things his way.”

You grabbed the phone, punching in the buttons and having it at the ready.

You noticed Sam focused on you with knitted eyebrows but not voicing whatever he had on his mind.

“Ready?” you questioned, but more as a formality. You had to do it regardless.

He simply nodded, looking on as you let the phone ring. If he had noticed your antsiness towards the call, he didn’t bring it up.

Ransone picked up on the last ring, not skipping a beat in answering, “Y/N.”

“Hey Ransone.” You switched the call to speakerphone.

“Are you alone?”

You glanced at Sam. He shook his head, arms crossed over his chest, edging you to continue with the arrangement you had planned the day prior.

Ransone trusted you more. He was more likely to communicate openly if Sam wasn’t around.

“Yeah, I am.”

“Where’s the other one?”

Sam silently scoffed.

“He’s taking a nap.”

“Ah,” Ransone’s tone was condescending. “How have things been?”

“It’s fine.” You press your lips into a straight line, not elucidating. “What’s the update out there?”

“Everything is a mess. We’re trying to figure out who attacked you but since there wasn’t anything left behind or any kind of trace, it’s proving to be... inconvenient.”

“Is it safe to travel?”

“What, with your face on national television?” he laughed. “Nah, I’d say it’s a little too early to be thinkin’ of a road trip. Just stay where you are, I’ll tell you when you can come out.”

Your fingers were thrumming at the table rhythmically, peeking at Sam every now and then for anything he found suspicious or wanted you to ask about.

“Listen, we’ve paid off every big guy to keep this under wraps as much as possible but Pierce was an important person. All the higher ups want this to be solved as quickly as possible. They don’t care about sacrificing a player here or there.”

Pinning the blame on you was easy enough. The faster you were put away, the faster they could stage an “accident” in prison so that none of their secrets were exposed. Wasn’t like they hadn’t done it before.

“Others in the business aren’t likin’ us accusing them of attacking one of our own. Our best bet right now is Serpentine but we haven’t gotten anything to prove it.”

You doubted they ever would. Even if they did do it, Serpentine was notorious for being cunning and stealthy in their operations. They made sure there would be no tracks leading back to them.

“So, we’re at a dead-end,” you verified. There was no telling when this would end, your exit looking further and further away. “We’re fucked.”

“No. We’ll just- Y/N, listen to me,” Ransone called out, drawing your attention back to the call.

“Yeah?”

“I’ve always protected you,” his voice was noticeably softer. “Don’t you trust me?”

You felt the temperature in the room drop.

“You said there would be no one there!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Ransone scoffed. “I never said that.”

“I walk in there and there’s four people, completely armed.” Forcing yourself to recall it was making your head spin. Maybe you could ask the nurse for a painkiller. “It was supposed to be empty.”

“I think the blood loss is making you delirious,” he chided, looking at the bag of drips hanging above your bed. “It wasn’t even that bad-”

“You’re lying.” The words slipped out before you had the chance to think it over.

“Excuse me?” he tilted his head, tone suddenly sifting to that of warning.

You knew he was. You had agreed to this mission because it was supposed to be easy. It was a break.

“Ivan was there when you briefed me.” You lifted your good arm to point at him shakily. “He knows you’re lying.”

“Does he now?” Ransone quirked an eyebrow, studying his aid who stood in the corner of the dingy hospital room.

A beat of silence passed where Ransone stared at Ivan, waiting for a reply of confirmation.

Ivan only lifted his shoulders in unawareness. “I don’t remember you sayin’ that.”

Your mouth fell agape but you quickly rushed to shut it. Fucking liars. You shouldn’t have expected anything better.

“Told you.” Ransone shrugged. “You’re a smart one, Y/N, so I’m going to let that slide this time. But next time you accuse me of something I didn’t say…”

He trailed off, resting a hand on your broken shoulder. You flinched, jaw clenched so tightly you thought your teeth might break. You tried to imagine yourself somewhere else, desperate to reduce the quivering of your body when he squeezed it lightly.

“You know I’ve always tried to protect you.” He put a finger under your chin, tilting your head to meet his eye. “Don’t you trust me?”

A beat passed before you responded.

“I do,” you said through gritted teeth, pulling your face away from him.

“I’ll ask them to up your dosage.” Ransone took a step away from you, dropping his hand. “I’m going to need my best player on the field as soon as possible.”

You didn’t acknowledge his statement. Every part of your body felt like it was going to combust.

Did he really say that no one was going to be there or was it just the injuries playing with you?

“Get well soon,” he offered, one step out the door. “Buttercup.”

“You trust me, don’t you Y/N?” he repeated when you didn’t respond.

“Yes.” You swallowed, gaze falling to the floor.

“And I trust you. You wouldn’t do anything to break that, would you?”

Sam raised his one hand questioningly as if to ask what the hell he was talking about. An intimidation tactic. He had been using it for several years to reinforce your loyalty.

“I wouldn’t.”

There were things you weren’t telling him, of course. Details about that day or where you and Sam were hiding right off the top of your head. More if you thought about it deeply.

“Good,” came his response. “So if there’s anything you need, let me know. I’m always a call away.”

“Thank you.”

“Talk to you soon.” He ended the call there.

You stood there blankly for a while before dropping the phone to the ground and crushing it. Usually you wouldn’t have to do that; removing the battery would be enough. This time you wanted to.

Your chest rose and fell heavily. You loathed him. Yet, you couldn’t fucking leave. 

“Hey.” Your eyes snapped back to Sam. “We still going on that run?”

__

The wind felt good.

Your muscles were burning and you could feel the constriction of your lungs but you liked it. The endorphins were working their charm.

Sam was right beside you, not questioning why there was so much aggression in your movement. You had lost track of how long you had been running. You couldn’t bring yourself to focus on that.

The path was paved with fallen branches and roots sticking out, forcing you to hop over some of them to avoid falling. It only annoyed you further.

You wanted to punch something. Or someone. The tension was rolling off your back in waves, and if someone saw you the’d probably believe you were going to commit an act of violence.

It was a while before you felt your steps begin to falter, the need for a proper breath taking precedence over the want to run more.

“Timeout?” you asked Sam breathlessly, slowing your pace to a jog.

“Sure about that, Usain Bolt?” he huffed, slowing his pace to match yours.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he dismissed it. “T’was fun.”

Now that you had slowed down, it forced you to come to terms with how much energy you had just burnt out.

“You wanna talk about what’s on your mind or ignore it?”

“Rather not talk about it for now.” The more you thought about him, the angrier you got. And as of late, you had realised that your method of dealing with that anger wasn’t the best.

The air was getting colder. It was getting harder to see what was in front of you, relying on the few rays of sunlight that shone through the treetops. You took a roundabout at your self declared checkpoint, changing course back to the house.

Sam followed wordlessly, but his presence was strangely comforting. Warm.

“Thank you.”

“For...” he trailed off, prodding you on.

“I don’t know. This.” You gestured to the path ahead of you. “I didn’t think you’d agree to it.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” His eyebrows knit together in puzzlement.

You didn’t have an answer to that. Probably because you weren’t used to people just doing nice things for no apparent reason.

“How are you so calm all the time? I’ve never seen him get under your skin,” you asked quietly. “How do you do it?”

He didn’t answer straight away. He mulled over it as he dodged broken sticks and upended roots on the ground. You would be fine if he didn’t answer either; as long as he knew that you appreciated it.

“I just realised that everything he put into me was destructive. Actively worked on unlearning it,” he replied after a while. “It took me years to even begin.”

You expected to hear that but it didn’t make it easier.

“I don’t even know how to start,” you mumbled. It was so tiring, even thinking of where and how it began. It was all you knew. All you were taught.

“If I could add something?”

You looked at him questioningly.

“You had a different relationship with him than all of us, Y/N. A deeper one. It’s not easy to forget that,” he pointed out. “But… you’re not him. That takes strength.”

These weren’t new revelations. It was things you had told yourself earlier to rationalise all your actions. You knew it on a surface level but it was difficult to convince yourself sincerely.

You didn’t say anything, just continued jogging with an eye on the ground. 

It felt better to hear it from someone else. A starting point to maybe get to where he was, too.

“I just can’t believe anyone took him seriously enough for him to get this far,” Sam added, a tick of annoyance in his voice. “I don’t condone bullying but someone should have just punched him in the face as a child.”

It wasn’t even the funniest thing you had heard him say but for some reason it elicited a snort from you, soon giving way to a laugh.

His face snapped to yours at the sound of your laughter, a small smile growing on his face.

His brief moment of distraction was all it took for him to not notice the tree root sticking out in front of him. His ankle got caught in the wood, sending him stumbling to the ground face forward.

“Oh shit,” you cursed, halting in your place immediately, dropping to your knees to where he was.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he groaned, turning onto his back. “I think I broke my face.”

“That may be a bit excessive but your nose is definitely bleeding,” you knew this was serious but you were finding it difficult to control your laughter once you realised it wasn’t a life threatening injury.

“Just leave me here to die.” He covered his eyes with his elbow, refusing to look at you.

“C’mon, Wilson. Let’s get you fixed up.” You stood up, offering your hand. He grabbed onto it, hoisting himself up.  “Can you stand up straight? Do you think you have a concussion?”

“World class assassin,” he grumbled, shaking his head to imply he was fine other than a possible broken nose.

“Promise I won’t tell. Your reputation is safe,” you said it humorously but with conviction, hoping to make it less embarrassing for him. Not that you’d let him forget it any time soon.

It took longer to walk back considering how far you had ventured out, along with the fact that you had to guide him as he held his nose in the air to try and control the bleeding.

You pushed open the door to the house, holding it open as he walked in. Sam made his way to the dining room after you told him you’d get the first aid kit for the second time during your stay there.

By the time you returned from the bathroom, grabbing an old t-shirt along the way, he had a single ice cube pressed to the bridge of his nose.

“That’s not going to be enough.” You dropped the kit onto the table, opening the mini fridge. You emptied the ice cubes from the tray onto the t-shirt, twisting it into a small ice pack.

“These are my battle scars.” You could tell that he was trying not to use his nose. He sounded ridiculous. 

“Whatever makes you feel better, Sam,” you chortled. His mouth eased into a half smile and you didn’t get why until you realised it was the first time you had called him by his name. You didn’t acknowledge it, surprised by how easily it slipped out from your mouth when you weren’t actively stopping it.

You gave him a bit of cotton to wipe off the blood that had dried on his face.

“Look up,” you instructed, standing over him so you could assess the damage. He complied, letting you cradle his jaw softly, tilting his head to see if there were any signs of a fracture or anything worse.

It was a bad fall, but nothing he hadn’t been through before in terms of severeness. It wasn’t going to leave a mark.

“Definitely going to bruise but it’s not broken,” you concluded, going over it once more to make sure.

“Thanks, doc,” his voice came softly from below you. Only then did you realise how close you were standing to him. You could feel his breath on your wrist that was still caressing his face.

It felt like eternity, but he didn’t make an effort to move or shove you away. Your eyes flitted down to his lips for a second. If you just leaned dow-

“Right,” you cleared your throat, taking a step back. “Just hold this to your face for a while to reduce any swelling.”

You handed him the makeshift ice pack, feeling the heat creep up your neck.

“Your turn to use the bed tonight, right?” His voice was significantly lower than what it had been a few minutes ago, something you weren’t acclimated to hearing. It only made your face feel hotter.

“Yeah.” You avoided meeting his eyes, using the time to close the first aid kid. “Unless you want it.”

“No, go ahead.”

It was too early to retire for the evening but suddenly you weren’t all that hungry anymore. Apparently neither was he.

“See you tomorrow, then?” you inquired, turning away before he could see you cringe.

“See you tomorrow,” he confirmed, “Good night.”

You just gave him a short wave over your shoulder and physically restrained from walking to the room, shutting the door and never looking at him again. You hoped he didn’t notice or at least never bring it up if he did.

You couldn’t do this. Not again.

Not when you knew the consequences.

Next part

[rebel666]

Confessions of  a Joann Employee

UPDATE: If you want to send more confessions and/or report what’s happening at your Joann anonymously, there’s EmployeeJoann on Twitter that is responding to messages. They are constantly sharing and updating more as it becomes available to them!

A confession from a Joann employee that is in one of the Covid-19 effected areas and has so much to say about it:

-We are staying open until told by the state otherwise. Even though they declared a State of Emergency and all non-essential businesses must be shut down by 5pm on Saturday 3/21, our company is refusing to. Because Joann themselves is trying to deem Joann as an "essential" store. They even put it all over their website that we are here for the people making masks and small businesses who need fabric to continue. They quote that we are here for the customers and that we as United States Americans have a responsibility to fill this need. They aren’t looking at curbside only as an option, they aren’t looking at offering more benefits for shopping online, they want us open and people in stores. They are sending us emails with pieces of paper (unofficial, not state made) to print out and put in our cars to say we are on the way to work at an "essential retailer." Anything to make it so we can remain open.

-This sucks for employees and here’s why: The way Joann is set up is if we get sick, if we have to leave to take care of someone who is sick, if we want to self-quarantine (because of our health or the health of our loved ones), we either quit or ask to be put on Leave of Absence and cannot return without medical clearance. If we come into contact with someone who has Covid-19 (even if they came into the store), they request we stay home while the rest of us have to work even if we were standing right next to them. As long as we don’t display symptoms, we are expected to show up or we can request LoA. LoA does not pay us. The only way we as employees will be taken care of is if the store closes AND if we have two weeks of schedules set up. I was hoping the company was on the path to this when they had us cancel all the classes until May and then limited hours but all that went out the window today. Right now Joann is doing everything to prevent us from closing and in turn take care of their employees. Every single time I bring up our well-being, I get reminded that we need to think about the customer first.

-Our store is step up to have daily conference calls to talk about the current status and to express any concerns we have. I brought up the status about my county (our major has declared everyone be shut down as of 5pm tomorrow or the police will be involved) and that I am deeply concerned for us and they told me that we have a responsibility as a leader to keep everyone calm and to keep working through this. ***When I asked what if everyone in my store requests a Leave of Absence because we are all very much concerned about our health, they said, "We will replace you with team members from other stores. There are service industry people and travel workers looking for jobs and we will fill your positions with people who will work it."*** They straight up told me that we are replaceable/expendable because they value their "customers/money." It doesn’t matter how long we’ve been with the company. It all means nothing to them.

-They are sending out emails about what Joann is doing as a whole for Covid-19. Saying we are cleaning every hour and whatnot. What they fail to mention is we are a fabric store with no means of washing fabric. I see people on a daily basis cough into, wipe their snot on, kids place in their mouth, and all sorts of other nasty things into these bolts of fabric (seriously, wash the fabric you buy from Joann before doing anything). We have the basic cleaning supplies to wash floors and wipe counters with but that’s pretty much it. They are telling us as employees to bring in our own supplies if we can. An employee brought in gloves long ago just so we can use them to clean the bathrooms. Today I provided face masks for my fellow coworkers. Our store may look clean but we know its dirty little secrets.

-We are supposed to follow the whole 10 people rule but they do nothing to stop or limit people at the door and won’t do anything to enforce it. All while wanting us to cut hours to which is barely 2 people running the whole store for smaller Joann locations. It’s not safe for us to be on a bare-bones crew especially if they want us to remain an essential store.

-Joann before this was a great place to work. At least for my store. I love my store, I love the people I work with. Other stores I have heard horror stories from but mine was one of the good ones. I see them being bombarded on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram to close. Not just by employees and families of employees but by concerned customers. And this pleases me because they need to take this seriously. What they do in the next 3 days will speak volumes on how much they listen to and care about us. This is a serious issue and we as employees are suffering.

As they report more, I will continue to add to this.

UPDATE 3/21: They emailed and made copies of this for employees to carry with them in their cars:

Now the CEO of Joann is also a piece of work. All you have to do is google his name and you’ll see the Walgreen’s lawsuit, his DUIs (yes, plural), and his impact on Joann since joining - which includes increasing prices because of the tariffs. One employee confirms that when tariff thing went into effect, the entire store was repriced. Some markups were a few cents but some were a few dollars. Since then the prices continue to fluctuate.

There is also a petition going on Change.org asking for Joann to Close Their Stores And Pay Employees

If you get a chance, read some of the comments people are putting in support of this:

I no longer feel safe in my workplace. The greed is sickening.

My employees deserve to be treated like people and make a livable wage and have benefits! Our health over their profit!

Staff at my local store have been asked to bring in their own gloves for cleaning. Hand sanitizer expired in 2012. Employees are reporting little to know cleaning supplies in a store that targets the elderly as a primary demographic. The material used in the masks is not medical grade. This company is shamelessly profiteering from the pandemic.

As a former employee and manager I know the company does not follow any real cleaning guidelines. They understaff their stores, overwork their employees and frown upon time off. Fabrics and crafts are not essential items at this time and since the majority of the clientele there are elderly i think they are creating more risk. Finally do something good for your employees and send gem home with pay

As a previous manager, I'm sad to say that this company does not value its workers. To see that they are putting their workers, and others who visit, at a continued risk is unbelievable and is extremely selfish. Now is the time to act and stop the spread of COVID-19 and to keep Joann's open does not help stop the spread in anyway shape or form.

Over the last two days, my local store decided to carry on with inventory. They brought in an inventory team from the area of our state with the vast majority of cases. It's one thing to not close and continue to expose the public to the risk, but decisions like these show that Jo-Anns has a blatant disregard for the wellbeing of its employees and customers. Even more telling is the fact that we know that you are seeing our pleas to do the right thing, but continue to ignore us on social media. There is only one reason that you are pushing to categorize Jo-Anns as an essential business, and that is greed. In fact, I had to spend my own money on gas to drive all over the city looking for more cleaning supplies after my manager ordered me to. Your employees do so much for you, and we are compensated very little. I have been at Jo-Anns long enough to know that you would never compensate us for our time off, but at least join the other non-essential business and shut down for the time being.

joann’s customer base is primarily elderly or otherwise at risk people, and many employees are also older or immunocompromised. employees are overwhelmed as we can’t keep up with the cleaning guidelines while also taking care of customers, not to mention we’re severely lacking in cleaning supplies in the first place. joann is encouraging people to come in for supplies to make face masks, yet these masks aren’t sterile since people touch and breathe on the fabric all day, and it’s then laid on the counter to be measured and cut. employees themselves aren’t even allowed to wear masks or gloves. joann cares more about profit than the safety of both their team members and customers.

There are so many comments I want to share. These are just a few. This is Joann. They care more about their image and their financial gains than the backbone of their stores. The people who put up with their ridiculous requests day in and day out are now at risk and putting others at risk. Places like Hot Topic closed down and took care of their employees, places like Joanns should too!

But also lets not forget, Hobby Lobby is also not taking Covid-19 seriously.

UPDATE 3/22: “We have signs saying we're cleaning more but found out Friday that we're out of supplies in the distribution center. They claim they will send them out once they receive any but I found out today from a truck driver the company that supplies everything for Joann (from inventory to store use items) is closed for 2 weeks... because of this they're telling us to use the bathroom cleaner as a substitute.”

From Joann Employee Confessions on Twitter:

Confession 17 - Our Joann was closed! We received a C&D from the Chief of Police! We were so ecstatic as employees when they came in and told us to cease all business operations! Not even curbside! BUT then we had to tell our District Manager... and everything changed.

Our DM told us to come back to work tomorrow because he was going to have Joann's lawyers work on it. My heart sank. Them being open was more important. So I went into work and it was so nice not being open to the public. We finally caught up on recovery and cleaning! All things we have neglected the past week because it's been too busy for us to keep up! All of us were in great spirits and it was the best day ever. Until our DM called... and he told us to section off all the "non-essential" parts of the store.

Fabric and sewing notions were deemed essential and we would be open to the public the next day. No curbside only. Nope. People were to come right back in and nothing about limitations. Nothing about cleaning our disgusting fabric. Just to section off half the store so the public could come in and buy all the fabric and sewing supplies they could want. And to add to that... they are doing a remnant promotion where all the spare pieces are free to the customer now! Another thing for our already spare crew to do when we don't have time!

I am honestly so shattered over how the Chief of Police who seemed so interested in our well-being backed out of this. We are exposed once again. 3 of us tonight took Leave of Absence papers tonight because we don't feel safe. This was the final nail in the coffin.

UPDATE - My coworker messaged me, “Got up at 10:00 to get ready for work. A text came in saying the store is closed and I don't have to come to work. Seems there was a conference call. It appears the state is involved and overrode the mayor!” But Joann is still fighting it. This is a day by day thing. They are telling us if we want hours we have to go to another store. If not, we have to put in our leave of absence. 

More articles coming through right now: 

These Retailers Refused To Close During The Pandemic, So An Illinois City Shut Them Down

Joann Fabrics' mask-making promotion raises questions

Gregory said the masks were being donated to Rush Oak Park Hospital in Oak Park and to Northwestern Medicine Delnor Hospital in Geneva – but spokespeople for both those hospitals said it was not true.“Due to infection control measures, Northwestern Medicine cannot accept donations of handmade masks, gowns and other medical supplies,” according to an email from Kimberly Waterman, spokeswoman for Northwestern Medicine Delnor. “Only factory-made, hospital-quality supplies, including N95 masks, face shields, gloves, gowns, sanitizers and swabs can be donated.”

“There is no barrier,” White said. “Once [handmade cloth masks] get wet, I don’t think they’re that effective.” (I can confirm. A RN confirmed with me that cloth masks collect moisture which acts as a magnet for infections.)

[gubler-me-up]

Not a Day Too Soon

Request: Spencer Reid on his wedding day hands the reader a receipt whilst at the altar instead of starting his vows and asks them to read the date and it turns out it’s like one month after their first date and then he asks the reader to read what the receipt is for and it was for their engagement ring and he’s just “that’s how long I’ve been sure. That’s how long I’ve wanted this to happen” and they’re both just crying sappy dorks getting married

A/N: Thanks for the request, anon! Hope this is what you dreamed of when you submitted this request to me. I hope I met all your expectations for sappy fluff! From your request, I decided to make the reader gender-neutral if that’s okay with you!! There wasn’t a specific gender specified and I wasn’t sure if it was done intentionally or not, but I hope you still love it! (Also, to anyone reading, I put a father walking the reader down the aisle, but you totally can substitute someone else in placement of a father)

Couple: Spencer Reid/Gender-Neutral!reader

Category: Wedding fluff

Content warning: None whatsoever

Word count: 2.4k

Notes: Y/F/F=Your favourite flower Y/B/F=Your best friend Y/M/N=Your middle name Y/L/N=Your last name 

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

Today was the beginning of the rest of your life with Spencer. For the last two years it had already felt as if you two had known each other centuries before. Every moment with him was undeniably time well spent. Every moment felt as if you had lived it and were reliving the best parts in an endless wheel of dreams. Marrying Spencer Reid was probably the peak of your forever happiness.

You stood in front of the mirror in your dressing room to look over everything. Your makeup had been flawlessly done and so was your hair. You were so nervous your eyeliner would smudge or your foundation wouldn’t match somehow. You had to admit it looked absolutely flawless. Your makeup artist was definitely worth every penny.

You admired your wedding attire one last time. The BAU girls and some of your friends had accompanied you to pick your perfect wedding attire. It took several hours but you were satisfied with your choice. You don’t remember the last time you ever felt so beautiful. Today was destined to be the best day of your life.

“Y/N, you ready?” You heard your dad ask from behind you.

You turned around and smiled. “Of course.”

You walked over to him and linked your arm with his. He handed you your bouquet of Y/F/F. He guided you out of the dressing room and out into the long hallway leading outside. He couldn’t stop telling you how beautiful you looked and how happy he was for you. You had to stop yourself from letting your tears fall from your eyes. You couldn’t bear messing up your mascara before meeting Spencer at the alter. You knew you would be shedding plenty of tears throughout the day, but you wanted to at least make it down the aisle tear-free.

You two made it out into the courtyard venue and the beautiful clear skies greeted you. The sun warmed your cheeks as a smile spread across your face. Spencer was standing at the altar in his black tuxedo with a cute black bowtie and from what you could see he was still wearing his famous mismatched socks. You couldn’t ask to marry anyone better ever in your life.

Everyone looked at you as you walked down the aisle. You could hear breathy ‘oh wow’s’ and ‘they looks gorgeous’ from the crowd of family and friends. Your eyes were still set on Spencer though. He covered his mouth in amazement as he watched you walk towards him. His joy couldn’t be held any longer as you saw a few tears escape his eyes. He removed his hand from his mouth to wipe them away. His covered smile was now beaming as he continued watching you in all your beauty. Derek, who was his best man, had to rub his back to give him some composure again.

As you reached the altar, you looked at your dad and gave him a kiss on the cheek. He held your hands tight in his, squeezing them tight before letting go. You knew he was about to shed tears of his own by how red his eyes were.

“I love you, Y/N. I’m so happy for you,” he said.

“I love you too,” you said.

He went to go take his seat as you went to your designated spot across from Spencer. Y/B/F grabbed your bouquet from your hands. Spencer reached out for your hands and you didn’t hesitate to place yours in his. You held his hands tight in yours, happy he was here with you. He looked even more handsome up close. His smile was so joyous you couldn’t help to reflect it back.

Rossi soon walked in to meet both of you in the middle of the altar to begin the ceremony. You and Spencer hadn’t gotten a real pastor since neither of you were that big on religion and decided to just have a wedding officiant instead and to your surprise Rossi was a certified one. You saved yourselves a couple of bucks in exchange for a few sarcastic remarks and tasteful humour.

“Well, if I’m thinking what everyone else is thinking than my answer is yes, it is about time someone other than myself to get married,” he began and got a ton of laughs in response.

He looked at the both of you, who were laughing, but both of you were laughing while looking deeply into each other’s eyes as if you were in your own world. He even noticed that you two were whispering “I love you” to each other already and you were slowly, but surely tearing up.

“They’re already saying “I love you” to each other. Hello, kids, this is a wedding ceremony, not a date. Save the I love you’s for either the Honeymoon or the bedroom,” Rossi joked.

Everyone laughed, even you and Spencer, as you two finally got over yourselves. You took the time to wipe an escaped tear from your eye and regained yourself by taking a deep breath. Rossi cleared his throat to get everyone settled, so he could proceed with the ceremony quicker since he believed that you and Spencer would rather spend your wedding privately at that point.

“But being serious now, we’re gathered here to join these two dorks in holy matrimony. I’m glad that we could all be here today to join Spencer Walter Reid and Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N as one big Doctorate degree,” he joked again.

Both you and Spencer looked at each other with approval. You two had spent your money wisely when you decided to spare the pastor and hire Rossi instead. He brought something so tedious to life.

“Proceeding, in the presence of family, friends and loved ones, I’m going to go ahead and initiate this whole thing. Ever since these two were born, they’ve been meant for each other, but it took fate to match them up at the right time. We’re also here to celebrate the good in life that has come from the bad and trust me, they make bad look like a schoolyard bully. I’m honoured to bind these two souls together and I’m overjoyed to not be the one saying the vows because I forgot them, so please, Spencer, let your lovely partner know how you feel.”

Spencer smiled and took a deep breath as he let go of your hands to reach into his pocket. He pulled out a piece of folded paper. He let out a soft chuckle as he looked up from the paper to you. You stared at him, eagerly awaiting him to say his vows. You were kind of surprised he had to write down his vows. Maybe an eidetic memory was good to a fault. To your surprise though, he handed you the paper.

“Y/N, read the date on the receipt,” he said.

You looked at him confused, but followed his instructions. This was definitely an unexpected move on Spencer’s part, but then again he was always full of surprises. You opened up the receipt and looked at the top for the date.

“June 3rd,” you said.

“You know what day it was a month prior to that date?” He asked.

You giggled as you remembered. “How could I forget? It was our first date.”

He smiled. “Exactly. Can you read what the receipt was for?”

You looked back down at the receipt. You went to the items listed and only saw one. As soon as you read it, you felt tears form in your eyes again. You looked up at him and as soon as he saw the look on your face, he knew you saw what he bought. You could also see tears starting to form in his eyes again.

“An…an engagement ring,” you said as you tried your best to hold back your tears.

“Yes, an engagement ring. That’s how long I’ve been sure we were meant to be. That’s how long I’ve wanted this moment to happen. I bought the engagement ring a month after our first date with the intention of marrying you one day. All that I have, all that I am, all that I’ll ever be is yours forever. From the very moment I saw you, I knew you were the one for me, the one that I knew I had to spend the rest of my life with. Our courtship was one of the best days of my life, for you have become not just my lover and companion, but also my best friend. I want to be your lover, your companion and your best friend for the rest of my life. I promise to love and cherish you, to keep you close and with faithfulness, to be your prop and helpmate in times of need, to make you laugh and to hold you when you cry, to hold you to the highest respect and honor as you so deserve for the rest of my life,” he said as a few tears escaped his eyes.

As he said every word, you felt it sting the depths of your heart as no other words have done before. The love that rolled off his tongue, every word he said overwhelmed you with content. You looked lovingly in his eyes as he looked back at you with a warm smile that you could never get enough of. It made you thrilled to think that you would be seeing that face for the rest of your life and you had no regrets about that decision.

Knowing a month from the first day you two met was the day he decided he wanted to be with you for the rest of his life was the best feeling your heart ever felt. You were overjoyed Spencer had felt as deeply for you as you did him from the start. The love he gave you would never grow old to you not even after death. His love would probably still warm you from the grave through its endless warmth.

“Y/N,” Rossi said. “Go ahead.”

You took a deep, jagged breath. “I have dreamed my whole life of having someone as…as wonderful as you to love me the way you do. I give myself to you and I…I gladly promise here to treasure for all of my days the love we celebrate today. Let us bring together our lives and find ourselves anew each day…Sorry.”

A few tears started to stream down your face. Spencer took his right hand and wiped away your tears, gently enough, so he didn’t mess up the hours of perfecting your makeup for the occasion. He gently whispered to you to take your time because he knew how much this meant to you and how overwhelmed you were. You smiled at his touch, as you seemed to breathe a bit easier from his reassurance. You took another breath before continuing.

“You are a precious gift to me, my springtime, my hope and my joy. You are everything that's good and pure and true and I worship you with my mind, body and soul. How lucky I am to be able to say that you are mine, to be able to love and cherish you for the rest of my days. I vow to always put you first in my life, always be there to comfort you in your sorrow and rejoice with you in your victories. May our hearts and very breath become one as we unite this day as partners in life. I promise to be your true love from this day forward and forevermore.”

He beamed a big grin at you as a few more tears left his eyes. It was your turn to use your hand as tissue and wiped away his tears. Tears were still flowing down your own eyes as you found it hard to hold back your happiness. From ear shot you could hear some people in the audience crying from joy and letting out sweet awe’s as they watched the two of you being in deep love with one another.

“I don’t think I could have said that better and I’ve been married three times. Before these two crying dorks become dehydrated from water loss, let’s get to the ring exchange. Henry, the rings, please,” Rossi said.

Henry, who was standing by Spencer’s side, lifted up the pillow to give the two white gold rings to you both. You and Spencer took each other’s ring, waiting for the instructions from Rossi to initiate the ring exchange.

“Spencer, as you put the ring on Y/N’s finger, repeat after me: I, Spencer Reid, take you, Y/N Y/L/N, to be my partner.”

“I, Spencer Reid, take you, Y/N Y/L/N, to be my partner. I promise you love, honour and respect, to be faithful to you and forsaking all others, until death do us part,” Spencer finished as he eagerly slipped your wedding ring on your finger.

“Or not. Y/N, your vow,” Rossi said.

“I, Y/N Y/L/N, take you, Spencer Reid, to be my partner. I promise you love, honour and respect, to be faithful to you and forsaking all others, until death do us part,” you said as you slipped his ring on his ring finger.

“I don’t think I really have to ask this since you basically said it, but Spencer, do you take Y/N as your lawfully wedded partner till death do you part?” Rossi asked.

“I do,” he responded.

“Y/N, do you take Spencer as your lawfully wedded partner?” he asked.

“I do,” you said.

“Well, I know you two have been waiting for this exact moment since June 3rd, so you may now kiss.”

He didn’t even have to tell either of you that as you two immediately locked lips as he finished his sentence and enjoyed your first kiss as lifelong partners. You had to admit, it felt pretty good, maybe even better than any other kiss you two had.

Everyone stood up as they cheered for you both, some crying at the sight of two souls becoming one. As you parted lips, both of you looked deep into each other’s eyes and smiled brightly at each other. You had only been married for a minute and already started to mimic each other. The pianist started to play a tune for you two to walk out with. Spencer immediately grabbed your hand as you grasped his with great strength as he led the way down the aisle as your guests watched and cheered for your happiness and future lives together.

—–

MASTERLIST

[hanoella]

Affettuoso- With Feeling (Part 3)

Pairing: Bucky x Pianist!Reader

Set after the events of TFATWS: In an effort to start over and make a home in Louisiana, Bucky meets a friend of Sam’s who ends up being his landlord. With only a driveway to separate them, he finds that he’s not the only one looking for a fresh start.

Series tags/warnings: Slow Burn, Eventual Bucky x Reader, Mentions of Domestic Abuse, Canon Level Violence

Part 3 Word Count: 3k

A/N: Can you tell I don't really have a posting schedule? lol. I also introduced links to the specific pieces I had in mind. I'm using soundcloud because I don't think everyone has access to spotify. Trying to be reader friendly! This can be read with or without the audio, as I do my best to still convey the thought in the fic. Though if you can, I highly recommend :)

Thanks again for all your support! Every heart and comment motivates me and is just so wonderful

Read Part 1; Masterlist

---

A few days had passed since the night that Bucky had overheard your troubles. It had been quiet since, and you hadn’t left the house. The curtains were opened during the day and closed at night, the only telltale signs that you existed.

Doesn’t she have to work? Bucky thought to himself. He speculated all the different possibilities as he used the riding mower around the property. Maybe you were an heiress? You seemed pretty down to earth though. Or maybe you sold a patented idea for a ton of money. All this land had to have been expensive. And to not request actual money from him?

He eyed up the width of the gate for your fence. The riding mower couldn’t fit so he would have to use a push mower for your fenced off yard. He hadn’t seen one in the garage. Maybe the old shed at the back of your yard had one? Bucky parked the mower in the garage, taking a moment to make a mental list of everything. Depending on if he found anything in the shed, he might need to buy a few basic tools and a chainsaw for that fallen tree.

He walked out of the garage and over to the shed. The leaves were changing color and it brought a whole new atmosphere to the secluded forest area. Opening the gate of the weathered white fence, he looked around to see if you were out. No signs of life. Entering the yard and closing the gate behind him, he started walking to the back. Halfway through, he stopped at the fire pit. The grey stone blocks were starting to crumble, with a few of the bricks having fallen off. It would probably be really nice if he got a little bit of cement mix and filled in the gaps. Bucky made another mental note.

The shed had no padlock so he was able to open it with no problem. Amongst the cobwebs and bags of soil, was an older green push mower that looked like it might work. He gave the gas a pull and got no response back. Looking underneath, Bucky saw what might be the problem. He’d have to take a closer look later. Putting the lawn mower back onto its wheels, he pushed it across the yard, pausing when he saw movement though the glass doors of the back patio.

Craning his neck to avoid the glare, he saw you sitting at your fancy full keyboard. The way the piano was against the opposite wall, your back was to him. You had big over-ear headphones plugged into it, so he couldn’t hear the sound but he saw the flurry of keys being pressed down. Whatever you were playing, you played passionately. Hands and arms gracefully moved despite the speed at which they were moving. Enhanced hearing coming into play, he heard the muffled clicks of the fluttering keys. Suddenly, you pressed down forcefully, holding whatever chord you had struck as your shoulders gently relaxed. A deep breath. Arm creating a graceful arc as if you had studied ballet, you pressed gently on another chord. And another. Bucky counted three more times you did this before you let your hands gently fall from the keys to your lap. Several moments passed before slid the headphones off of your ears to sit wrapped around your neck. Another deep breath. This time as the breath escaped you, you stayed slouched, head tilting up to stare at nothing on the wall.

A buzz broke Bucky from his trance.

“Call me, new mission” The text from Sam on his home screen said.

He pocketed his phone, glancing through the glass one more time. There you still sat.

Unmoving.

---

The roar of the plane’s engine was just loud enough to drown out Bucky’s thoughts without being annoying. If it weren’t for the adrenaline of the recovery mission under the cover of nightfall, he probably would’ve been lulled to sleep. Beside him sat Sam, looking on his phone for the exact coordinates of the politician they had been sent to rescue.

“Here it is. I’m assuming there’s some sort of underground base since there are no heat signatures anywhere within the radius where he was taken. It should take us about ten more minutes before we’re directly over it.”

Bucky hummed in acknowledgement.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Earth to Bucky.”

“What does your friend do?” Bucky asked suddenly, sitting up straighter and turning towards him.

“… What?”

“What does she do? I’ve never seen her leave the house. Is she okay?”

“If you’re asking why she doesn’t leave the house, it’s because her contract doesn’t start for a while. She’s technically still supposed to be in physical therapy but she hasn’t found a place yet. You know, your whole routine gets messed up when you move.”

“For her shoulder?”

Now it was Sam’s turn to look at Bucky, trying to decipher the motive behind these questions. Bucky shifted his weight in the chair, antsy under the scrutiny.

“Never mind, I-”

“Yes, for her shoulder.” Sam said, cutting him off. He stopped himself from asking why Bucky wanted to know. There was an awkward pause before Bucky explained himself.

“I just wanted to know. I’m not used to seeing people so…”

“Similar to yourself?”

“I was gonna say isolated but fair point.” Bucky admitted. Sam leaned back in his chair, looking straight forward.

“She’s been through a lot… I know you heard some of it.”

Bucky blinked in surprise.

“I realized the window was open when I could hear you drive off.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s alright, it’s good that you know.” Sam said as he held up his hand to cut Bucky off.

“She’s just trying to get a fresh start. She’s in a raw emotional space and in the meantime is a little skittish. Just like someone else I know.” Sam jabbed his elbow into Bucky’s side as he enunciated the last sentence.

“Okay, okay, I get it. I’m trying!” He shouted as he held one hand up defensively and using the other to block the second jab Sam was trying to get in. Sam chuckled and then stood up, grabbing a parachute pack and tossing it at Bucky, who caught it without even looking.

“Figured you might wanna try an actual chute this time.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and mouthed Sam’s words mockingly with a grimace as he put the backpack on. Clipping it into place, he joined Sam at the side door of the plane.

“She used to play in an orchestra you know.” Sam said wistfully. “The piano. That’s actually how we met. She had volunteered to play a small concert before the dinner. It really helped raise a lot of money for the VA.”

Bucky stayed silent, prompting him to continue.

“Then that bastard she was engaged to beat her and then shoved her down a set of concrete steps when she tried to leave him. It was like a month after we all came back. She was in the hospital for a while. Broken ribs, broken shoulder, and a nasty concussion to boot. Neighbor saw the whole thing and called the cops but the courts were so backed up and the case fell through the cracks. Wouldn’t leave her alone after he got out. So, I pulled some strings and helped her move down here on the fly.”

“… That’s terrible.”

Bucky didn’t know what to say or how to react. They stood in silence, taking a moment to pay a respect of sorts to the trials you have been through. Then Sam broke the silence.

“She just needs time to heal in more ways than one. But she’s strong. Resilient.”

Putting a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, he squeezed it lightly with reassurance.

“Reminds me of someone else I know.” Sam said, finishing the conversation and pulling his goggles over his eyes, giving Bucky the opportunity to take the compliment without feeling too on the spot.

Pulling the door open, Sam shouted over the wind.

“Ready?”

Bucky nodded. Sam jumped from the plane and deployed the wings, the shield shining in the moonlight. Bucky jumped right behind him, using the glint of the silver star to guide his descent as he followed the man that gave the shield its meaning.

---

You laid with your head down on the kitchen table, letting the last golden rays of sun warm the side of your face. You were exhausted from going to physical therapy, especially since today had been the first appointment. All the measurements, all the exercises, all the stretching.

All the questions.

“So, how did you break your shoulder?” the young blonde physical therapist asked.

“Ah, I… fell down some stairs.” You said, looking down at your hands in your lap.

She didn’t look up from the papers, instead just raising an eyebrow.

“You also cracked some ribs and had a concussion?”

“… They were concrete.”

She looked up from the papers at you, analyzing. Her gaze softened and she asked no further questions on how these serious injuries had been obtained.

“Let’s look at your range of motion.”

You had practically stumbled into the house, kicking off your sneakers and plopping down at the kitchen table. Minutes passed by as you regained your breath, heartbeat steadying. The house was slightly cold since you had turned the heat down this morning. As your sweat cooled, you wrapped your arms around your legs in an attempt to keep you warm without getting up.

The sun feels so warm… You thought to yourself drowsily, feeling slightly less lonely. The sun was a cheap substitute for the warmth of a partner…

---

You jolted upright, the kitchen dark and cold. Neck and shoulder stiff from the awkward position you had dozed off in. Feeling the dryness of your mouth, you got up, stretching your neck gently while you walked to the fridge to get water. Chugging about half the bottle, you squinted at the clock. You had been asleep for about forty-five minutes. Groaning, you put the bottle down on the counter and walked into the living room to close the curtains. Grabbing one in each hand, you went to pull them together when you hesitated, noticing that Bucky’s apartment was dark for the third day in a row. The sleek motorbike that was usually parked under the slight overhang of the garage was missing as well.

He was probably on a mission, right? Not that it was any of your business. You shut the curtains and turned off the lights before lightly padded down the hall, stopping to adjust the thermostat. The heat kicked on, sending a puff of cold air your way. You shivered as you walked with a quickened pace to your room, shutting the door and heading into the master bathroom, turning the hot water on with just a tad of cold.

Waiting for the shower to warm up, you leaned over the sink and looked into the mirror. Dark circles under your eyes. Small scar on the bridge of your nose. Running your hand through the roots of your hair, you felt for the scar where the stitches had been. When was the last time you had a haircut? Or put on some makeup?

Some higher being must’ve felt pity for you since the steam from the shower fogged the glass, preventing you from tearing yourself apart any further. Stepping underneath the warm stream, you let the warmth seep into your muscles, then bones, filling every fracture and break with a temporary sense of wholeness until the emptiness of your heart and home caused it slowly to drip out until it, along with you, was gone.

---

The next morning, you weren’t motivated to do anything. You lounged around the house, sipping on coffee and browsing on your phone for furniture, clothes, even sneaking a peak at some pianos. Wanting to invest in one you’d use for the next several decades, you had put off buying one until the money from your contract with the orchestra started in a month. You were still well off, nowhere near struggling and probably wouldn’t ever be unless you decided to buy a mansion (which was a no). You just wanted to be careful.

In the afternoon, you popped a pain killer and muscle relaxer in preparation for the few hours you wanted to practice. Thirty minutes went by and the ever-present ache in your shoulder calmed enough to let you practice with relative peace. Sitting on the bench in front of the keyboard, you pondered what you might play to warm up.

Hmm, maybe a Chopin prelude? Short, emotional, familiar.

Your left hand held the soft deep chords as your right hand softly flitted around the higher notes. Breathing in and out with the music, you tried to ignore the ache that start to surround your shoulder.

Playing the last few notes, you paused before reaching over to the bottle of painkillers.

---

Shortly after finishing up, you dragged a small table outside next to the wooden bench swing that was hanging on the porch. Bundled up in a soft sweatshirt, long-sleeve shirt, wool lined leggings, fuzzy socks and slippers, you brought out your hot tea, several blankets, a pillow, and a book you had been meaning to read for months. You were determined to do something besides practice, watch TV, and scroll on your phone.

You settled onto the bench, wrapping the blanket around you, nice and toasty from the layers trapping in the heat of a thorough practice session. The extra medication had really helped keep the pain at bay. Tentatively sipping the steaming cup, you closed your eyes to further appreciate the sweet tones of peach and honey. Setting the cup in your lap with one hand, you used your other hand to flip open to the first page.

---

Bucky hadn’t expected the mission to get so complicated. Finding the base was one thing, navigating in and out of the expansive maze was another. It took a few days to successfully get the target out and back to the embassy. He hadn’t properly slept during that time due to taking shifts with Sam. Not that it was any different from how he slept at home.

The sun was letting its last few rays bless the earth when he turned onto the driveway. Taking it easy on the gravel, he eased his posture and slowed the bike. He put pressure on the brakes as he made it past the final wall of trees that hid the water that was reflecting the last bit of color left in the sky. Rolling casually into a stop, he parked and let out a deep breath, shoulders sinking.

A stray bird calling out turned his attention in the direction of your house. The porch light was on. That’s new, he thought. Squinting his eyes, he saw a bundle on the porch swing. Was that you? Quietly walking over while taking his leather gloves off, he confirmed his suspicions. There you were, lying on your side propped up by a large fuzzy pillow. Eyes closed and breathing rhythmically. Scanning the scene, he noticed the mug on the side table, empty except for the used teabag. Your book was closed, the page you were on marked by one of your fingers. You must’ve fallen asleep while reading.

“Hey…” Bucky said gently. No response besides a small nose scrunch.

He repeated himself a little louder, squatting to be at eye level while gently setting his hand on your arm and shaking you lightly. You groaned this time, eyes fluttering open, taking a moment to focus. You squinted and pushed yourself up into a sitting position, losing your place in the book and attempting to blink the heavy drowsiness from your eyes.

“Bucky?” You questioned hoarsely as you met his eyes. He was still crouching so you were looking slightly down at him. Brow furrowed, you searched the blue of his eyes before looking around to see how dark it had gotten. As you turned your head back to him, he stood back up, scratching the back of his neck just to occupy his hands.

“It’s starting to get cold. I didn’t want you to spend the rest of the night out here.” He explained, choosing to look out at the water, now dark. When he turned his head back, you had also turned your head to look at the water, exposing the side of your neck, the tendons and clavicle accentuated by the strain. Bucky swallowed and your eyes met his, oblivious.

“Ah, thank you. I must’ve fallen asleep reading. I just started going back to physical therapy so I’ve just been so wiped… Anyway,” you said, dismissing yourself mid-thought. He didn’t want to hear about all that. “…did you just come back from a mission?” You eyed the diagonal cuts of leather on his jacket, noting the missing sleeve that exposed the glint of the metal.

“Yeah. I was gone for a few days.”

“Okay. I’m glad you’re home safe.” You mindlessly said, picking up the book and other various items strewn about.

Home safe. What an unfamiliar phrase.

As the words echoed in his mind, you had opened the door and stepped in, turning your head slightly to look back at him.

“Thanks again… Good night.”

“Good night.” Bucky replied, watching as you shut the door softly behind you.

Slowly walking down the porch steps, he crossed the driveway to the garage. Turning his head just in time to see the last light turn off in your house, he stood with his hand on the knob, meditating on the effect that one short sentence had on him.

Glad you’re home safe. Was this what it was like when you had someone waiting on you at home? The tired eyes and gentle smile. Would that be what it was like when he came home in the middle of a night from a mission when he had someone to share a bed with? Gently shaking them to let them know he was home? Or would he try to sneak into bed without waking them? He tried to imagine what that sort of intimacy would be like as he entered his apartment and then his room. Unzipping his jacket and tossing it over a chair, he stripped down to his boxer briefs and climbed into bed, wondering what it would be like if it was already warm.

[nicka-nell]

Prompt Event

Request: anonymous - OMG 500 followers is so exciting!! CONGRATS!! I am so excited for your event - I hope your inbox doesn't get too out of control! 🥰 Can I request Ukai or Ushijima (you choose) + NSFW + 30, 37, 59??

Prompt Event  | Masterlist (coming soon)

Pairing: Ukai Keishin x reader Words: 2.345 Warning: NSFW, 18+ Note: All characters are grown-up!

Prompts: 30. Have you always been this beautiful? 37. What if I told you I’ve been in love with you since we were kids? 59. Shouldn’t you be with him?

Back then, you were little. You had just learned to tie your shoelaces without help, had made and eaten sand cake with your little hands. Back then, it was your father Nekomata who pulled you into a volleyball game.

To a team called Karasuno. A team where the coach was just as eager to win as your father. To your astonishment, he also had a boy at your age with him. He had always looked fiercely, his arms folded in front of his chest and always looked in the opposite direction from his father.

You can still remember that at a game, the men of the teams had warmed up, practiced their serve while you were about to close your loose shoelace. “Watch out!” Called the other coach’s boy as he stood in front of you and caught a harsh hit of the ball with his back, preventing you from getting punched in the face with a volleyball.

You remember you two used to sneak out at the games, hide out in his mom’s store, and secretly read adult magazines. You were laughing at the naked people in these, laughing and giggling every time you read the word sex. You were always reprimanded by your fathers, still that never stopped you.

But time passed, you became manager of Nekoma High School and Ukai became a setter at Karasuno. You had no time to see each other, had only met briefly at the games.

When your father also thought that Naoi, your substitute setter, is a nice guy and you should meet him, you knew that Ukai should disappear from your thoughts.

Naoi was in the same class as you, you had done a lot together and even now that you have your own job, he performs as the second coach of the Nekoma, you still meet. Just yesterday he was with you, had forgotten his jacket. You told him you’d give him his jacket back when you walked past the gym after work.

Whether it’s coincidence or fate, that you meet right in your former gym Ukai?

Unobtrusively, you sneak into the gym, go over to Naoi to poke him in the side with your index finger. He twitches with a smile before turning around and quietly thanking you for the jacket. As if it were a daily greeting to him, he gives you a kiss on the cheek before saying goodbye to you and turning back to the game.

You’re about to leave the gym when the opposing coach calls for a time-out. That voice, that voice… A voice that used to mean so much to you. Unbelievably, you turn around, to see if you really heard him.

“Ukai?” It escapes you almost silently, when you see the man from your childhood again.

As if he heard your sound, he looks at the entrance. At first he has difficulty recognizing you, but this hair, these eyes, this look, he would recognize it always. Yet you even have changed. You’ve become a real woman.

Now there’s only one question in his head. Have you always been this beautiful?

“Sensei, maybe we should replace him?” Gets him the captain’s voice out of his mind. For a moment, his gaze drifts away from yours, looking at the captain before he watches back in your direction. Except you’re not there anymore.

You know you’re supposed to meet Naoi after the game, but how can you if you just have to think about Ukai now. Almost automatically, your legs set in motion, making you get into your car to drive to Ukais shop, hoping that he will enter the store again today.

When you arrive in front of the store, you take a deep breath, wait a moment and let the chilly air calm your body down before you open the door and step in.

You are greeted by a man who introduces himself as Takinoue. Ask him if Ukai isn’t there today, when he confirms that he will come to the store again tonight. Nodding, you look around the shop as your gaze wanders to the adult magazines.

Smiling, you tell Takinoue that you would like to have one of these magazines, which he holds against you with red cheeks and watches you sit on a chair in the shop.

Time passes, the clock next to the cabinet with the cigarettes ticks and reminds you with every beat that Ukai will soon enter the store. The paper on the last two pages of the magazine squeaks between your fingers as you turn the page when the doorbells ring just a few seconds later and a familiar voice fills the room with excitement.

“Takinoue, did everything go well? I bet there wasn’t much of a clientele today, was there?” He laughs with his deep, smoky voice, but without answering him, Takinoue points at you. You’re still flipping around in that catalog, not looking up at those two men.

“Y/n?” Ukai asks wildly, can’t believe that you of all people are in his shop. Now you lift your eyes, smile at him kindly while you put the magazine out of your hand. “Takinoue…You can go now.”

Ukai’s gaze is filled with your eyes, fixed on you as if you were a shrine fulfilling his wishes. His voice is only heard softly, but still so loud that Takinoue understands to leave now.

Again you hear the bell before the door snaps into the hinge a few seconds later and Ukai comes towards you. Without a word, he sits next to you, looks at you before his gaze lands on the magazine.

He can’t resist a grin, leans back in the chair, his arms behind his back, his legs wide open. “Just like old times, huh?” He just smirks and makes you pay your full attention to him. “Like old times. But, you know what I also remember?” You ask, even though you know Ukai can’t answer that question.

Irritated, he looks at you, thinks about what you had done when you were little, but he can’t think of anything. Resolutely you get up from your chair, sit down on his lap and enjoy his suddenly so frightened face.

Grinning you move your pelvis in his direction, watch deep into his dark brown eyes before you kiss his harsh lips. Your warm tongue lies on his lips, seeking its way inside to connect with his.

With a quiet snort he opens his mouth, noticing his hands unconsciously looking for your delicate body, reaching under the thin fabric of your blouse to caress your sides. Almost a whiny sound escapes him as your lips separate from his when you stare at him with an incredibly attractive look.

“I don’t remember that.” He murmurs softly, not noticing the words that have left his mouth. “No? Maybe I should show you what else we’ve done?” You whisper to him seductively before you move your pelvis up and down in the hope of soon feeling something hard under you.

“Shouldn't you be with him? With Naoi?” He steers in, when your warm breath is already on his lips. “Huh? I’m with you right now.” You answer, and seal his lips with yours, so that you not give him the opportunity to answer.

His tongue, his saliva is bitter, you taste like he smoked another cigarette earlier. Ukai’s fingertips are rough as they wander along your sides, behind your back and digging into your flesh with a gruff.

Did he lock the door? No… Is the closed sign on the door? No… Someone could be coming in any minute. “Shit!” He curses under your kisses before he begins to caress your neck. To experience how you taste, to leave hickeys to show Naoi that you were with him. With Ukai, not with Naoi. He doesn’t care if anyone sees you now.

Your hands hastily search for the end of the coarse fabric of his sweater before you pull it off of his body with a quick movement and drop it to the ground. “Take off your blouse.” His tone is flat, husky as he looks deep into your eyes.

Nodding, you want to open the first buttons of your blouse, but you are too slow for Ukai. His hands that were still on your back before, are suddenly on top of yours, pushing your hands away when he tears open the fabric with an animalistic sound, and pulls it from your body. The buttons rattle as they fall to the floor, rolling through the store until they come to a lie.

With ease, Ukai lifts you up from the chair, kisses you before he turns you around with a jerk and presses your upper body on the table top in front of you. You hear the sound of his zipper behind you as it is opened and the coarse denim fabric glides off his legs.

With a whisper he pulls up your skirt, drills his hands into your shapely ass, only growls with clenched teeth. “Shit, you really got hot.” His rough voice sounds in your ears, and shortly afterwards you feel his warm chest lying on your back as something hard catches your attention.

“Nhhhg Ukai…” you moan and make him smile. His hand lets go of your butt, explores the area between your legs before he rubs his fingers on your wet panties. “God, what a naughty little girl you are. You’re already wet, just from our kisses, huh?” Even if you can’t see his look, you feel this mischievous radiance emanating from him.

“What if I told you I’ve been in love with you since we were kids? That I wanted to know how perfectly your sweet cunt wraps around my cock, as a teenager. Your needy moaning for my name?” He breathes into your ear as he begins to nibble on your earlobe and with his free hand pushes your panties aside to spread your walls and press his cock into you.

Almost without resistance it glides into you, wraps his dick with your essence and elicits a sugar-sweet moan out of your throat. A sound that is like music in his ears and satisfies him. “Tell me, my little girl, does my cock feel good in your sweet cunt?” He wants to know while he grabs for your hair to jerk your upper body up with his.

“So good… It feels so good, Ukai!” You snarl while you wonder why he feels so incredibly right. Unlike the men you had before. Ukais thrusts become stronger and more aggressive, causing your whole body to move.

“Oh god!” You whine again when Ukai starts to use his free hand to slide between your folds, just to start playing with your core. His fingertips rub against it, move rapidly, apply pressure and make your breath faster, so that your body tightens.

“God can’t help you right now, my little girl.” He just grins and starts to caress your neck, bite on it, and really play it safe, marking you as his.

His cock in you feels so big. Comes in places where no one has come before. Seek the way to your womb and make you understand that only he can fill you so well. You believe your vision go black, your legs automatically squeeze together as you keep pressing your pelvis against Ukai.

Awkwardly you reach for Ukai’s hair, burying your fingers in them, as if you didn’t know where to go with this desire that is about to explode. “Ah Damn, babe, you’re so hot. Just pull my hair, do what you want if you just give me your sweet moans.” His voice is barely understandable under his wet smacks on your neck, before he shoves his entire length into you with much force, making your tone completely uncontrollable. “Ah Ukai!” Your walls twitch, makes Ukai groan loudly, through this sudden tightness that literally constricts his lim.

You feel his member even better in you, every contour, every vein. Understand now also why it felt so good, because not only Ukais cock is in you, no also all piercings that adorn his cock. Everything rubs against your swollen walls. Elicit a whine that drives Ukai crazy.

“Damn babe, you’re so tight, I’m coming. Shall I pull out?” His trembling voice resounds in your scattered thoughts. “No, I want everything from you, I want to feel like I’m milking your dick, old man.”

That was exactly the answer Ukai wanted to hear, because with a few hard blows he distributes his viscous charge in you, fills you with his warm sperm before he lingers in you with a loud murmur for a moment.

“Damn, that was hot.” He breathes heavily before leaving your body and settling on the chair behind him. For a short blink of an eyelash, he still sees how a sperm thread connects him to you before it tears and sticks to his length.

Out of breath he dangles his hands left and right of him. Enjoy looking at your swollen walls, and how his thick sperm drips out of you slowly.

With an exhausted sigh, you turn around, straighten your panties before you sit on Ukai’s lap again. “As a tenager, I also wanted to know what your cock feels like inside me. Wanted to feel your cum in me and hear your deep voice. If I had known you were so good, I would have asked Naoi much earlier if he wanted to eat with me at home so that he would forget his jacket and I could bring it to him into the gym.” With a throaty laugh you give him a fleeting kiss on his reddish lips, which have changed their color through all your kisses.

“I guess I’ll have to thank the benchwarmer for leading you to me.” Like then, you swap conspiratorial glances before you both start laughing like teenagers when you lower your head to Ukai’s chest and give him an answer with gentle words.

“You have to, yeah.”

[unfunny-quips]

Shouta had been sized up before. 

Many times during his life, in fact. As a student, as a hero, as a teacher. He’d always met the assessments with the same steady, unflinching gaze of his own. He knew his capabilities, and no amount of side eye or stare down would make him think twice.

That did not mean he was in any way prepared for Midoriya Inko. 

Nezdu’s assistant - soft spoken, unassuming, and sweet - had a way of making her scrutinizing gaze seem gentle as it swept over him. Her sharp eyes taking in every detail, weighing and measuring every fact she gathered. She always had a bright smile and a kind word, a gentle hand to guide when needed. And yet, somehow, she was one of the very, very few people Shouta had ever met that made him nervous.

It shouldn’t have been surprising, he supposed. For all the things he had faced down in his career, he had never faced true, unwavering evil the way she had. The green haired woman had been married to the single most dangerous man in Japan - very possibly the world - and had come out of the experience with her heart of gold intact. 

An impressive enough feat on its own merit. That she had managed to pull one over on that villain - gathering up her sons and a damning amount of information and sweeping them away to safety before All For One had even a chance to understand what was happening - that was terrifying. She’d stormed the police, stared down the Symbol of Peace himself, and forced the Hero Commision themselves to give her a deal placing her family in the highest amount of security available. 

Most terrifying of all, she had impressed Nezdu.

The woman was a force of nature and Shouta was smart enough to know he wouldn’t survive the storm if it’s ire was turned on him.

Midoriya herself, dressed disarmingly in a smart grey suit with a teal blouse, finally brought her gaze to meet his and offered him one of her cheerful grins. It was warm and soft, the kind of thing mothers gave he supposed, not that he had a terrible lot of familiarity with that. The gentleness of the smile did not make him forget the steel of her spine or how she could make that smile turn predatory when the need arose.

“Aizawa-San, it’s lovely to see you today!”  She greeted him, standing from her desk - immaculate and clearly organized to the height of perfection - and rounding it to greet him. 

He should have anticipated the crushing hug she’d pulled him into, but as always her unwavering cheerfulness had sent him off balance and she’d pressed her advantage before he could regain his senses. She did it with all the staff, with the exception of All Might and Nezdu. Aizawa suspected All Might’s great height - even in his skeletal form - prevented her from pulling him in for one of her crushing hugs. Nezdu, for his part, was a fellow apex predator and therefore exempt from such treatment.

He wished, not for the first time, that Zashi had come with him. He sometimes was able to hide behind the other man when Midoriya Inko started hugging. Sometimes. 

Then again, she’d sometimes just sweep the both of them up at once, and Zashi took it as an invitation for a group hug, trapping Shouta entirely.

“Midoriya-San.” He awkwardly greeted when she’d released him. She ignored his discomfort, and moved back towards her desk where a stack of papers waited.

“You’re just in time, I just finished compiling the pre-approved applications for the transfers. Oh!” She paused, turning away from her desk and darting through the door just off her office to the small kitchenette hidden there. He blinked after her, feeling bewildered, and watched as she moved to pull two bentos from the fridge. “I noticed your schedule today didn’t allow for lunch.” She told him, shoving one of the bentos into his hands. “So I thought we could enjoy a meal while we reviewed everything.”

He barely managed not to fumble the container as she dropped it in his hands, whisking off to sit at her desk before he could even think of refusing. He blinked after her, then turned to the bento. The fabric it had been tied into was a soft blue and printed with adorable chibi versions of Hizashi in fully hero gear. It was adorable and mildly terrifying to think she had noticed something in Shouta he thought he’d locked down and hidden away years ago.

“You didn’t have to, I have -” Any protest he might have made died the moment he glanced up and saw the sharp look in her eyes. She was still smiling, but there was a certain gleam of warning in her gaze as she looked at him.

“Protein pouches are not an appropriate substitute for a proper meal.” Midoriya said with the kind of finality that left no room for argument. Not that there would be any. Shouta certainly wasn’t going to be fool enough to pick a fight he knew he couldn’t win - more than once, at least. Especially not when she had that soft, warning expression pointed at him.

Instead he clamped his mouth shut and took the seat across from her, dutifully untying the knot in the colorful bento wrapping at her warning glance. Inside he found onigiri made to look like cats tucked in with a variety of protein rich, healthy foods and some apple slices cut to look like bunnies. 

It was adorable. 

How she managed to find time to make him something so elaborate and cute while balancing care for Izuku and Tenko, the running of the school and keeping up with Nezu while also being constantly vigilant for her villainous estranged husband was beyond him.

“Now there were a number of transfer requests made to get into 1-A” Midoriya began, glancing over the documents on her computer after she had ensured that Shouta was indeed eating the food she’d given him. “About two hundred total. Most of them were sifted out due to grades and overall performance which brought it down to sixty-two. From there we accounted for teacher evaluation to whittle it down to a more reasonable seventeen.”

She pulled up a list, tilting her screen to better show him the names and pictures of seventeen promising first years. Hitoshi, as expected, had made it through the initial two stages of the transfer process. Just two more stages to go.

“Interviews have been scheduled to speak to their classmates, friends and family. Nezdu suspects will have only seven or eight remaining afterward those have been conducted.” Midoriya explained, casting another warning glance at Shouta to ensure he was still eating the lunch she’d prepared for him. He dutifully began digging into a Tsukune. Satisfied, Inko unwrapped her own bento and allowed Shouta to review the short bios of the students as she ate her own lunch.

Each student he reviewed gave the impression of a serious hero course candidate. A class full of good students who hadn’t made the cut initially due to a system biased against their quirks. Nezdu expected nearly ten of them wouldn’t make the interview process, and Shouta didn’t doubt the principal’s estimate, he was rarely wrong about such things. Usually there were only three or four remaining after the interviews, it was an unusually adept group that year it seemed.

After the interviews would be the practicals, followed by the faculty review of those remaining. Despite his personal interest, Nezdu had permitted him to remain on the faculty board to judge the students, confident in Shouta’s ability to remain objective. 

“Oh, I nearly forgot,” Midorya said, breaking him from his thoughts. He watched as she set her lunch to the side and turned her attention to one of her desk drawers. “Izuku gave this to me to pass along to you. He was worried he wouldn’t have the chance otherwise with midterms coming up.” A plain file folder was held out to him, innocent looking.

Shouta squinted at it suspiciously. “He could have brought it in during my office hours.” He said, reaching for it anyway. He’d started calling Midoriya Izuku Problem Child in the first couple days of class, but in no way was the boy actually a troublemaker. Only over eager and overpowered with no sense of self protection. He was a good student, though, and a good kid from everything he’d seen and everything Hitoshi had told him. Not one he’d expect to use a go between for passing notes on to his teachers.

Midoirya Inko gave one of those knowing smiles that put Shouta’s hair on end. “I think he wanted to avoid taking any of your time that could go to other students for something that isn’t related to his own school work.”

Shouta blinked at that, then flipped the folder open and blinked again.

“Are these -?”

“Recommendation letters, yes.” Midoriya said, smile growing bright at Shouta’s bewildered expression. “Hitoshi-kun mentioned they’d help him during his application for the hero course so Izuku got some put together for him. I wrote one of my own, and All Might was similarly happy to make a recommendation based on what he’s seen of Hitoshi’s excellent character.”

[stygiantarot]

Unusual Divination Methods

A long ass list of methods of divination, just in case you’re curious ~~~~~~

Divination is the method of discerning answers beyond a direct interaction. It can be used for foreseeing future outcomes or problems, but that isn’t inherent. It can also be used to commune with entities like deities or spirits, or even for delving deeper into the self (like shadow work).

There are many forms of divination. So many. There are even many forms of what would be considered “unusual” beyond the more commonly practices like cartomancy, runes, or stichomancy. Today I shall be focusing on ones I’m familiar with so I can better elaborate and answer questions.

The methods I will be exploring today:


Aleuromancy: divination using flour (or a flour substitute!)


Catoptromancy: a form of scrying using a mirror (my method uses a cast iron pan actually!)


Osteomancy: divination using bones

~~~~~~

Aleuromancy

A form of divination using flour that’s mentioned in some Mesopotamian cunefiorms, as well as being practiced in Greece and Rome. There are a couple ways this can be done. Firstly is when you pour out the dry flour and look at the way it falls into a bowl or on a plate or surface. Much like tea leaf reading (tasseography), you seek out shapes in the flour and interpret based on that. Another variation is doing the same but after you’ve mixed the flour with the liquids you’re baking with and kneaded it/mixed it and then taken it away to be baked. You examine the remaining streaks of wet dough on your surfaces for shapes and patterns.

The third method is to actually put slips of paper into the items you’re baking to be taken at random and broken open to answers questions after they’re cooked (akin to fortune cookies). This can be a tricky process depending on what sort of paper or ink you’ve used (speaking from experience :-X). The historical Greek version of this used excerpts of famous philosophy and mixed the balls of doughs nine times (a significant number in Ancient Greece)

It can take a lot of patience to try and find shapes and patterns in flour and admittedly it’s much easier with tea leaves. No wonder that became the standard. Don’t get disheartened if it isn’t something you have success with. You might have more fun and results experimenting with the baking slips of paper into dough methods. Great for ritual cookies!

The kind of divining using this method is very simple, more “omen-like” than detailed q&as like in Tarot or runes. Expect to see simple images that may give insight to something coming your way (a boat or bird showing a trip) or warn of a specific type of trouble that may be on the horizon (a money sign showing finances) rather than getting a formulated question clearly answered. However, you can dabble in that methodology when using the slips of paper instead. That way is more akin to stichomancy where you get a general idea or snapshot of the emotion or proverb-like metaphor to your question.

The type of flour can be tailored to help “fine tune” the reading as well- much like a certain flavor or tea or a certain deck of cards. Keep in mind that all types of grains/flours have a baseline association with prosperity and material gain/finances so this method of divination is especially good for those type of questions!



Flour Correspondences:


Acorn: An uncommon one in stores of course, but has deep wildcrafting results if you have the time and patience to grind some yourself. Associated with protection, health, money, healing, potency, fertility, luck, wealth, wisdom, and personal power.


Almond: creativity, luck, wisdom, spiritual understanding, nostalgia

Buckwheat: Money, protection, dreams and sleep


Flaxseed: health, finances, prosperity, beauty, psychic powers

Oat: family, home, hearth, money

Potato: protection, banishing, soothing/healing


Rice: prosperity, career/job, travel, romantic relationships/sex

Wheat: general prosperity, rebirth/renewal, solar energy

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Catoptromancy

From the Greek word katoptron, meaning mirror, this is a form of scrying that specifically uses a mirror rather than flame, water, or crystal ball. However, my version is a bit of a kitchen witch twist on it. We’ll get to that in a moment!

 The Wikipedia article on it refers to a Greek temple that used this method but it was also practiced in many other countries in history. There’s references to the “true seeing” of Hathor/Het-Hert/ḥwt-ḥr mirrors as well, despite them being mainly for practical purposes. The divination is practiced most commonly by placing a mirror near water, outside in moonlight, or near a candle flame. Then the reader looks into the mirror and interprets the images seen. They can be direct appearance-based (how you look) or seeing other images. The mirror can be a standard one, a painted one, or one made of a more opaque substance like obsidian or metal.

I will say personally, I practice catoptromancy in an “inner eye” scrying way rather than a pattern/tasseography way. That means that I am the conduit and the mirror/surface is to help me get into a trance state and what I “see” will be from my mind’s eye or may likely be added to what little I see on the surface through intuition and that sixth sense. But either method is absolutely fine.

I also don’t use a mirror. I use a well loved, well seasoned cast iron skillet for my catoptromancy, with a lighted candle usually. The glossy surface is mostly black iron but is just mirrored enough from being soaked in fat over the past decades of seasoning that it performs quite well for scrying. And the sentimental value helps it’s power. You may want to select an object in a similar fashion. You can choose an important mirror (the size doesn’t matter) or pick something that is mirror-like. The reflective ability is all that matters.

Get settled down in a comfortable spot without too much light. Get your one light source ready; a candle, the moon, a small table lamp or booklight even. You’ll want to be grounded, centered, and calm and then let yourself “zone out” in order to get into the mindset for scrying. Then examine your own reflection for certain aspects that stand out or look past yourself (or angle the mirror to not be looking right at you) to see other shapes or patterns that you expand upon with your trance state. Keeping a journal for this method is especially important. There’s an emotional and internal reflection aspect that can be helpful to refer back to and examine how things went in your life after certain sessions. It can also pair well with dream magic. What you were seeking might manifest after the trance mirror session in your dreams. This method of divination is especially good for shadow work as well.

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Osteomancy

Bones, bones bones! Throwing the bones! Examining the bones! Reading the bones! This is a divination method that obviously uses bones in order to determine associations and messages. It was prevalent in so many cultures throughout ancient and more recent history that it’s hard to pin down a single source. However, there are definitely methods that have particular cultural ties and those should be respected when it comes to closed ones. 

Much like runes or staves, the most common method counts upon both the appearance of the bones themselves as well as their placement in a “casting” (when you gently toss them onto a flat surface). Casting sets also frequently include items that aren’t just bones like small stones, coins, shells, pieces of jewelry, etc.

You can carve, mark, paint or stain the bones in ways that have personal associations to you to help in reading them. You can obtain these bones in any ethical way you are comfortable with. I don’t believe they have to be remains you have processed yourself; though that can add a different spiritual component. You should be considerate in collecting your set though. There is no set number of objects to have (even a single piece can answer yes/no questions) but I don’t recommend starting out of the gate with a pile. You should get comfortable with each piece and determine its associations before moving on to a new one.

Unlike Tarot, they don’t come with set meanings. Though there are sometimes obvious ones: a coin for finances, a seedpod or nut for fertility/prosperity, a sharp tooth for protection, etc. Think about what creature the bone is from, what part of the body, what shape it has when helping determine your personal associations. Treat it like a correspondence for herbs or crystals and that way you can have a more organic “sliding scale” type meaning for when you cast rather than a rigidly detailed one like with Tarot. For example: a meaning like “luck” or “prosperity” is better than “success in work”. It’s also common to have objects touch and then their meanings are joined. In the previous example you could get promotion/raise at work from having a work piece crossing with a prosperity or luck piece.

It is also up to you on what level of ritualized dedication and/or care you would like to give your set. Many people like to do a special dedication ritual to almost “welcome” the item to its new job as a divination tool (my own is what I call “Massaging the Bones”). You can also regularly cleanse and “feed” the casting set (energy that is- not literal food, though you could give it energy from something you’ve cooked in a non-literal way!). I do recommend a special bag or box to keep everything in as well as a soft thicker cloth to cast on. Just so the items don’t get damaged. Be careful in your casting. Practice a lot to know your strength level to throw while still keeping the objects safe. There may be a couple pieces (like baculums or thinner bird bones) that you need to wrap in a square of cloth before storing with the rest of your set for extra protection. This is especially true if you plan to take your set anywhere where it’ll be traveling in a bag or purse.

You can have a ritual circle of string or another material (embroidery hoop!) you lay out to help organize your cast if you like too. This is usually treated one of two ways. Like the face of a clock and items “closer” to certain times are more immediate and further away items around the imaginary numerals are more in the future. Or it’s concentric and the closer to the center of the circle are more important/relevant and then less relevant or immediate as you get closer to the edge. Those that fall outside the circle aren’t relevant to the reading.

This is a divination method you need an large amount of patience for as it is basically creating a tool yourself from scratch, even if you buy the supplies from elsewhere. The framework is laid by you. And just like someone designing a Tarot deck from scratch; be gentle with yourself and allow yourself the room to practice, change, grow, have fallow periods, return, get bored, become fanatic, etc. It’s a process sort of divination that grows like a living thing. This makes it a bittersweet one- rewarding and frustrating but mostly immensely satisfying.

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Divination is something that can be tailored to your desires, needs, and supplies. It can be made personal. You can create a whole new type if you like! Use what inspires you, what works for you. Use the marks on toast, the recommendations of Netflix, steam in a bathroom mirror after a shower. The world is your oyster!

[love-and-monsters]

Mermaid Girlfriend

F monster X GN human, 2,796 words.

No story next week because it’s Christmas and I have shit to do. 

It’s winter, and that means your girlfriend is moving in with you for the first time.

A ripple passed through the surface of the murky pond. You readjusted your position on the slick, slime-covered rocks that jutted out from the water. “If you splash me, I swear…”

An enormous tail emerged from the water and slapped down threateningly close to you. You flinched back as a few drops of freezing water landed on your face. Raspy laughter echoed in your head. “I didn’t. Water barely touched you.”

“Look, I’m trying to help you, all right? No need to be a pain about it.” You unhooked the small bottle from your waist and crouched, careful not to let your feet slip off the rocks. They were so wet and covered in lichen and pond scum that it was like trying to stay balanced on a piece of ice. “Where’d you go?”

There was a ripple to your left and you turned to look at it. The motion threw off your balance. One of your feet slipped. You windmilled your arms frantically, but it was no use. One of your heels slipped down off the rock and you could feel yourself overbalancing.

A cold, soaking wet hand pressed to the small of your back. You wobbled, carefully readjusting your position as the hand steadied you until you felt safe again. “Thanks,” you said, taking deep breaths to slow your hammering heart.

Your girlfriend lifted her head from the water and gave you a sharp-toothed smile. “No problem, babe. You brought the stuff?”

“Yep.” You passed over the little bottle. It was amazing how much it resembled pond scum while still being safe to consume. It was a deep green color, with chunks of plant matter floating among the liquid. You were pretty sure you wouldn’t be able to get it down without gagging, but Nessa took it with no sign of revulsion. She swirled it around at eye level, then popped the top and sniffed it.

“You gave them an exact ingredient list, right?” she said. You nodded.

“Of course. Made sure there were no substitutions or anything.” She took a little sip from the bottle, swishing it in her mouth and then swallowed. “Good?”

“Good,” she said. “I think. We’ll know for sure if I down the whole thing and I keel over.”

You wrinkled your nose. “Don’t even joke about that.” Wobbling, you got back to your feet and headed toward the shore. Nessa swam next to you, gliding far more easily through the water than you were managing on land.

You gave a sigh of relief when you landed back on shore. Nessa carefully pulled herself out of the water. You took a moment to watch as she heaved herself up onto the bank, appreciating the strong, rippling motion of her arm muscles. She caught your eye and grinned.

It took significant effort to pull the entire length of her body out of the water. From the waist up, she was roughly human, though her skin was greenish-blue and there were fins on her arms. From the waist down, she had an enormous tail, layered with beautiful fins. Altogether, she was a massive ten feet from head to tail tip.

“Oof,” she groaned as she managed to pull the majority of her body out of water. Her tail still trailed in the water, but it had been hard enough to pull herself up as far as she had, and anyway, she only needed to be mostly on land.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” you asked. “I mean, we can keep doing what we’ve been doing. It doesn’t bother me.”

“Yeah, well, it bothers me,” Nessa said. She stared into the murky liquid in the little jar. “I’m the one who came up with the idea in the first place. It’s not like you’ve been pushing me to do this or anything.”

“Yeah, I know.” You plucked at the sparse grass that grew on the lakeside. “But I still feel a little weird about the whole thing? It’s a big part of you, and you’re just… giving it up?”

“Oh, my depths.” Nessa rolled her eyes. “I’m not giving anything up. It’s a temporary measure. I’ll be able to come back whenever I want. Anyway, I think doing this for the winter is a good idea. You have no idea how shitty this stupid lake is in the winter. Everything freezes, the water gets cold as shit, there’s barely any food- I spend most of the time in a weird daze.”

You fiddled with one of your shirtsleeves. “Are you sure about this?”

“I am! I’ve told you a whole bunch of times. Look.” She pressed the bottle to her mouth and, before you could do anything, she downed the whole thing.

There was a long, silent moment, then she retched. You stared at her in horror. “Is it bad? Should I call a doctor?”

“No, it’s fine. It just takes like garbage,” Nessa said. She stuck her long tongue out. “Disgusting. Like eating pond weed.”

“But you don’t feel bad?” you asked anxiously. “You said this thing can go wrong.”

“If it’s made wrong. But you said you got all the correct ingredients and everything, so it’s probably all right.” Nessa closed her eyes and her brows furrowed. “Ugh.”

“What? What?” you said. Nessa waved a hand at you.

“Hang on. It’s just-” Her muscles all seized and she flopped to the ground. You gave a distressed wail and grabbed at her shoulder. Nessa managed, with a flailing movement, to push you off her and curled in on herself.

The seizing became worse, Nessa shivering all over with the force of it. Then, suddenly, she went entirely limp. Her skin seemed to sag and turn grayish. You stared at her in horror for a moment, then reached out and gently poked her.

The skin shifted under your touch like wet paper. You stared in horror, uncomprehending. No. No, no, no, this couldn’t be happening.

And then, just as you were about to start panicking, Nessa shifted. The skin, which had gone limp and unmoving, rolled like there was something pushing at it from underneath. With a wet noise, the skin sloughed apart.

“Eww!” You leapt back from the body, shaking your hands off in disgust. The skin shifted of its own accord, then fell off to the side.

“It worked!” Nessa cried, pushing herself free from the remains of her old skin. She squirmed fully free and kicked the skin away, toward the water. Now that there was nothing inside it, it seemed to have lost all integrity. It crumpled under her touch, tearing apart before it even made it to the water.

“You look different than I thought you would,” you said. Nessa had told you the potion would make her human, but that didn’t seem to be entirely true. There was some truth to it. She was standing on two legs now, looking perfectly balanced despite her inexperience. She was also smaller than she was before, though still tall. Her legs were long, but they only put her at about six feet in height, rather than ten feet. But the roughly humanoid shape was the only part of her that seemed correct.

Her skin was the same greenish color it had been, with her hair being a much paler shade of green. She still had fins on her arms, and new fins had appeared on her calves. They twitched slightly in the chilly air, folding close to her body. Her teeth were still as sharp as knives and there was an oddly smooth, languid feel to the way she moved. It was like she was swimming through the air, instead of moving like a normal human.

“It worked perfectly!” she said, executing a twirl on one of her new feet.

“Really?” you said, looking at her. “It doesn’t look like it worked perfectly.”

“I’m human,” she said, giving you a questioning look.

“Humans don’t have fins,” you said, giving her a playful poke. Her skin still felt slightly rubbery, much smoother than human skin.

“It’s transformational inertia,” she said. You gave her a blank look. “How well-versed in magic are you?”

“I know that you can use magic to do cool things,” you said. Nessa rolled her eyes and started to shrug on the clothes you’d brought with you. They were a little tight, but she didn’t seem to mind. You didn’t mind all that much either.

“Okay, so not a lot,” she said. “So, when you use a transformation spell, there’s something called transformational inertia. Essentially, it means that when you give a transformation spell to someone, it’s really hard to get them to transform fully, especially if they’re changing into another species. The more different two things are, the harder it is to change one into the other, and you can never have a complete transformation unless it’s permanent. It’s hard to go from mermaid to human, so I just used the potion that would get me closest- I can live on land now, I have legs, all that good stuff.”

“Oh,” you said, nodding. “Okay, I kind of get that.” You gave her a small smile. “Actually, I think I like it better this way.”

Nessa lifted her brows and waggled them. “Yeah? You do?”

“I do,” you said. “I don’t know. When I though you were going to be completely human, I thought it was going to be a little bit… I don’t know, weird? First of all, I was kind of worried that you were going to look like a total stranger, you know? Like, you’d have some similar features, but you were going to look so different I’d have trouble recognizing you. But now you look like yourself, just with legs.”

Nessa nodded. “Makes sense. What’s the other thing?”

You felt your face warm and you rubbed a hand over the back of your neck. “Um. Well. I kind of think the fangs and stuff are cool. It’s kind of, you know. Hot?”

Nessa threw her head back and laughed, clutching her stomach. Your face burned even hotter and you smacked one of her arms. “Hey! Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m not laughing at you,” Nessa said, hurriedly smothering her giggles. “I swear, I’m not. I was laughing because…” She trailed off and gave a half-shrug. “I think humans are really cute too.”

“What?” you said. “Like… what’s cute about us? Our weird flat teeth?”

“No, the teeth are a little weird,” Nessa said with a giggle. “I kind of like the ears, actually.”

You reached one of your hands up, tracing a finger over the curve of your ear. “Our… our ears?”

“They’re all so rounded and cute! Most nonhuman species have pointy ears. Yours are so little and sweet. Just adorable!”

“I guess I never really thought about it,” you said. Nessa made an attempt to skip toward you, misjudged where her feet were supposed to go, and stumbled straight into your arms. You barely had time to brace yourself before she slammed into you, sending the two of you almost falling to the ground.

“Sorry!” she said, although she was laughing too hard to really sound apologetic. “I guess I still have to get used to my legs.” Despite saying that, she didn’t seem eager to stand up again. She swayed into your chest, giggling and poking at your ears.

“Okay, it’s starting to get really cold out here,” you said. “Can we go to the car now? You’re ready to go?”

“Give me a minute,” Nessa said. She turned toward the lake and waved her arm toward it enthusiastically. “Bye, lake! I’ll see you again in the spring.” She turned toward you, hands at her sides. “Okay. Now I’m ready to go with you.”

You offered her a hand and she took it, fingers squeezing tightly around yours. “you’ve never been a car before, have you?” Nessa shook her head.            

“I have no idea what it’s going to be like. Is it kind of like riding the currents?” she asked.

“I haven’t done that, so I can’t say,” you said. Nesssa frowned.

“Guess I’ll find out,” she said.

Nessa pulled at the seatbelt as you fastened it around her. “This is annoying,” she said, giving it a few tugs. The locking mechanism activated and she yelped as the belt went taught. “Hey!”

“You’re not supposed to pull on it,” you said. “It’s supposed to stop you from flying out the windshield if we get into a crash.”

Nessa’s irritated expression melted into one of horror. “Does that happen often?”

“Not often,” you said. “I’m a very safe driver.” Nessa looked at you skeptically. “It’ll be fine. No crashes.”

“Then why do I even have to wear this?” Nessa asked, starting to pull at her seatbelt again.

“Because I can get in trouble if you don’t,” you said, thankful there was some sort of explanation you could give that wouldn’t freak her out. She shrugged, accepting that answer and slouching back in her seat. You started the car and she sat back up. “It’s just the engine starting,” you reassured her. She settled back with a skeptical expression.

The car started down the road. It was mostly dirt, so the car rocked and rattled as you moved. Ness stared out the window as you left the lake behind.

“Doing okay?” you asked after a few minutes of silence.

“Yeah,” Nessa said, still gazing out the window. “It’s interesting. It is a little bit like riding the currents.” She craned her neck as the last bit of the lake vanished into the distance. “Won’t see that again until it gets warm again.”

“You can always go in the bath if you’re really missing it,” you said. “The water’s even heated.”

“It’s not exactly the same,” Nessa said, finally looking away from the window. “But I do appreciate the gesture.”

You took one of your hands off the wheel and reached over to grab her hand. Her palm was incredibly smooth and you could feel her claws gently tapping on the back of your palm. “I’m glad you’re here. I was going to miss you over the winter.”

“I’m glad I’m here too. And it’s really interesting being a human.” Nessa kicked her legs. “It’s actually helping me understand you a lot better. Like. Knees are really annoying.”

“Are you having problems with your knees already?” you asked. “Are you going to have to borrow my knee brace?”

“God, I hope not,” she said. “You complain about your knees so much. I would hate to have the same garbage knees you do.”

You pulled up to your house and hurried around the car to open the door for Nessa. She stepped outside, staring at the building. “Huh. Human houses look different in real life. Really impressive. Merfolk don’t have houses like this.”

“You’ve mentioned,” you said. “Come on. Let’s go inside and I’ll show you around.”

There wasn’t a lot to show- the house was itty bitty, having only about four rooms. There was your bedroom, the bathroom, a little kitchen, and something that you had made into an office and a sitting room. “It’s not that great,” you said. “I know it’s a little cramped, so I hope you don’t mind too much. I know you’re used to having a whole lake.”

Nessa turned toward you and, before you would even process what was happening, she had placed her hands on your face and kissed you. You sighed into her mouth. Even as a human, she tasted a little bit like she had as a merfolk, a sort of pleasant freshness. It was a reassuring, sweet kiss that made your stomach lighten.

“It’s perfect,” she said. “Trust me. It’s nice here. And more than that, you’re here. I love you. I want to spend time with you. So, living in a little house with you is actually really great. We’re going to be together all the time.”

You giggled, resting your forehead against hers. Now that she was human, you were almost the same height- getting up on your tippy-toes put your faces almost level. “I’m going to remind you of that in about two weeks when your tune changes.” You lowered yourself off of your tiptoes and took hold of her hands. “Come on. Let’s get settled, then head to the bedroom. I think you might need a lesson in, uh. Your new anatomy?”

A sly smile crossed Nessa’s face. “Oh, I completely agree. In fact, what do you say we start there?”

You grinned back at her. “I think that’s an excellent idea. Shall we?”

Still laughing together in delight, you headed into the bedroom, the door swinging shut behind you.

[swiss-cheeze]

Tick-Tock, Hook’s Afraid of an Ordinary Clock! || Spencer Reid

Requested: YES/NO: gender neutral please! So my request. Y/n has been working at the BAU for a while, and never ever had feelings for Spencer but more for Derek. One night is spent at a hotel and Spencer gets wasted as all hell which the team found unusual. That’s really all! Do with that what you will! Smut is fine too! You can add your own personal touches if you wish. Also would love some fighting between Spencer and y/n

Gender: none, they/them.

Warnings: insults, alcohol, normal CM case talk, verbal fight dialogue taken from Hook (1991), crap music talk.

----

“Eat your heart out, you crinkled, wrinkled fat bag,” you mumbled under your breath as Spencer finished his rambling of some unknown subject. Spencer stiffened at your insult, as did the rest of the team. You had just gotten back from a pretty bad case involving a team of family annihilators and where sitting in the nearest bar; throughout the whole case Spencer had almost made it his mission to speak over you, correct you, flick things at you, ‘forget’ you’re there, bump into you and more. God it was so annoying, and now? Now you've had enough.

“That was very ill-mannered-” Spencer started.

“And you're a slug-eating worm,” you said with a little more force matter-of-factly, cutting off whatever it was Spencer was going to say.

“You can do better than that pretty boy!” Derek said quickly with a grin as he nudged Spencer; you almost pounced on that man for taking Spencer's side rather than yours; Derek had always taken your side.

“You're encouraging this?” Spencer questioned quickly.

“Show me your fastball, dust brain!” you started again, “you paunchy, sag-bottomed puke pot!” Spencer's eyes widened three times the size they normally would be as the rest of your table sat quiet and watched.

“Damn!” Emily said under her breath with a grin as her eyes darted between the two of you; it was like watching tennis.

“You're a very poor role model for your team, you know that right?” Spencer shook his as he took a mouthful of his drink before a sly grin overtook his face, “I bet you don't even have a fourth-grade reading level,” a few of your teammates let out a little blow of air.

“Hemorrhoidal sucknavel” you said quickly.

“Maybe a fifth-grade reading level.” Spencer said even quicker.

“Oil-dripping, beef-fart-sniffing bubble butt” you started to really get into it, leaning over the table a little with a smirk.

“Aye there we go (Y/n)!” Derek said quickly, now he was on your side? You looked to Hotch who was smiling thinking that maybe you had another on your side.

“Someone has a severe caca mouth, you know that?” Spencer cut off your gaze with his words, as if he was bored.

“You’re a fart factory. A slug-slime sack of rat guts and cat vomit, a cheesy scab picked pimple-squeezing finger bandage!” snickering came over the table; but you weren't done yet oh no, “a week-old maggot burger with everything on it and flies on the side!” you grinned; many many words in that one insult. Spencer went to open his mouth but you cut him off, “you’re really just a substitute chemistry teacher” you winked.

“Come on Spence, hit (Y/n) back!” J.J. quickly intervened.

“Mung tongue” Spencer fired.

“Math tutor,”

“Pinhead,”

“Mother lover,” that one was a low blow on your end but you couldn't help yourself.

“Nearsighted gynecologist,” ouch Spence, Hotch snorted at that one.

“In your face, camelcake!” you shot back.

“In your rear, cow derrière!” of course Spencer came back even faster.

“Lying, crying, spying, prying ultra-pig!” Emily snickered at yours.

“Lewd, crude bag of pre-chewed food!” Derek snickered at Spencers.

“Guys maybe settle down…” Hotch said softly, this was starting to get a little out of hand.

“You man! Stupid, stupid man!” That was all you could give back as your mind turned blank, forgetting every word in the dictionary.

“If I'm a maggot burger, why don't you just eat me?” Spencer shot back, “you zebra-headed, slime-coated, pimple-farming, paramecium brain, munching on your own mucus, suffering from Spencer Reid envy!” laughter ensued as your face contorted to confusion.

“What the hell is a ‘paramecium’?” your voice held the question as Spencer pointed to you.

“I'll tell you what a paramecium is! You’re a paramecium!” everyone on your table stared at Spencer as he elaborated; “It's a one-celled critter with no brain that can't think!” and with that, your table cheered for Spencer as you sat sulking.

“Oh come on (Y/n), you should have known you would lose,” Derek said with a grin before following Spencer to the bar.

“He's drinking a lot tonight isn't he?” Emily questioned.

“Who, Derek?” J.J. guessed with a furrowed brow.

“No! Spencer!” Emily quickly concluded.

“He was a little harsh on (Y/n)” Hotch cut in quickly, “I’m just glad Dave and Garcia weren’t here to witness that,” you slammed your drink on the table and sent a glare to the three left at the table.

“I'm going home, i'll see everyone on monday,” you grumbled out before stalking off, your shoes made loud thunking sounds as they hit the wood flooring, your anger getting the best of you as you passed Spencer and Derek.

“Yo (Y/n) you getting a drink too?” Derek was about to order your normal drink until you slapped both Spencer and Derek on the back of the head.

“OW! What the hell-!” Spencer's back was to you but as he turned and saw you his anger melted into elation, “come back for round 2 (Y/n)?” Spencer questioned, the poor boy tried to act cool and lean against the bar but missed entirely and almost fell onto a rather burly looking gentleman. You huffed slightly as you turned to Derek.

“Make sure the substitute chem teacher gets home safe,” and with that you threw open the bar doors and walked your way home, it was only a block and you had gotten a ride with Emily anyway.

-

When you finally slumped home, chucked off your shoes and threw yourself onto your mattress you couldn't help but make yourself angrier with the new insults suddenly bubbling in your head.

“Who does that piss brain even think he is,” you mumbled into the air, “paramecium my ass…” you continued your grumbling into the atmosphere as you twisted and turned on the mattress before sleep finally engulfed you.

------

The work week started up again and before you knew it yourself and the team where needed in New Orleans because of a new range of sudden murders.

“Lets review please,” Hotch mumbled.

“The bodies cross gender and racial lines” Rossi started.

“The throat is slit with something very sharp but also clean, I get a funny feeling it isnt a kitchen knife though,” you mumbled as you looked at the photos closer trying to get a good angle on a printed piece of paper.

“Butcher?” Derek questioned, you shrugged.

“Could these be blitz attacks?” you heard Spencer scoff at your suggestion.

“If this was a blitz attack there would be remorse and blunt force trauma somewhere on the head,” Spencer said looking directly at you.

“Oh, i'm so sorry Doctor i didn't know my input was unwanted, let me just keep my thoughts to myself,”

“Guys,” J.J. sighed, “Garcia is going through the victims lives that we have already, I can talk to the family and see if there are any enemies?” Hotch nodded.

“Derek, I want you to join J.J. with the families. Rossi, Emily go to the M.E. together and have a look over the bodies and tox screens. (L/n), Reid and I will go to the police station and start on a geographical and victim board,” everyone nodded in agreement to what Hotch said. Except for Spencer. He just stared at you with dangerous eyes. You rolled yours in return before putting your headphones into your phone and playing music to drown out Spencer's overbearingly loud thoughts.

-

“Okay my lovelies, these first three victims all had the same job at the same court; they’re all a part of a Jury audience” Garcia explained as her fingers tapped on her keyboard through the phone.

“Maybe someone just got out of prison that was wrongly convicted and wanting revenge?” you questioned.

“Maybe, it would have to be something pretty big for them to come back,” Derek said, you nodded in agreement, “baby girl can you see if there are any people that may have been convicted by a jury with our victims in it?”

“Sure can sugar, PG out” the phone clicked off.

“Did you find anything from the M.E.?” Hotch turned to Rossi and Emily as he spoke.

“The pathologist said it was a clean cut without hesitation marks or remorse,” Rossi said.

“No drugs, no blunt force trauma,” Emily shrugged as she talked, “it wasn't a blitz.”

“Maybe planned?” you butted in.

“That’s what it seems like,” Hotch said, “Reid? Have you got anything? J.J.?” Hotch questioned as he looked to the respective people.

“The victims were killed in different areas but its places they frequented; house, bar, bar” Spencer started, “they’re all over the place is all, completely different areas,”

“Yeah, and the families weren’t much help either. One of the victims' families, uh, Emil Gosten? His family said they didn't want anything to do with the investigation because he's had previous death threats and calls and stuff,” J.J. shrugged as the room went quiet.

“Reid, (L/n) I know you two dont like each other but I need two of my sharpest minds to go back to the crime scenes,” Hotch sighed, you groaned but complied as you stalked off with Reid following shortly behind.

-

“Everything looks the exact same as it was left,” you sighed out as you placed a blanket back down on the couch. Spencer scanned the books on the shelf before pulling one out and starting to read it; completely ignoring you.

“Reid,” nothing.

“Reid.” again, nothing.

“Spencer,” nope.

“SPENCE”

“What!” he finally turned to you and answered.

“You couldn't give me some complacency and at least answer me when i talk to you?” you asked annoyed.

“Why would i?” Spencer asked with a bored tone as he placed the book back on the shelf, except he finally talked to you, “The victim is atheist, believes in the justice system…” he sighed and shrugged, “did Hotch just put us together to fuck with us?”

“Maybe,” you flopped onto the couch with a sigh as you rest your head on the backrest. That was until something caught your eye, “Oi genius!” you called out, Spencer came to your side as you pointed to the roof; there, above your heads was a piece of paper taped to the ceiling, “you’re taller than me,” you said quickly as you got up and started moving the couch.

“Woah what- what’re you doing?” Spencer jumped back slightly as you pushed the couch backwards.

“Well we’re going to push this back and then put a chair down for you to stand on so you can reach that note because it can possibly help us get to the unsub,”

“What why me?” Spencer questioned as he helped you push the couch back.

“You’re taller than me and have longer arms,” you walked over to the dining table and came back with a chair, Spencer was reluctant at first but eventually stood on the chair and plucked down the taped note; letting out a breath as he finally stood on the ground again. You plucked the note from Spencer's hand and opened it.

“A music note?” Spencer mumbled.

“Something like that,” you mumbled back, “see it's in the second to bottom gap,” you pointed to the gap to show where it was, as if Spencer couldn't see it already, “um, it would sound something like...um, dmm” you vibrate your voice a little to help Spencer understand, he nodded, “the only problem is there isn’t any clef; normally with music you have a treble clef, alto clef or bass clef. They basically determine what instrument can be played and how the notes are determined” Spencer looked genuinely interested while you explained your thinking, “this...its a singular note, maybe there’s more around?” you looked around the room and tried to desifre if there were any opened drawers or cupboards.

“Maybe there’s another one at the other location?” Spencer questioned, you grinned.

“It might be the unsubs calling card; ‘hey, this is my kill’ type thing!” and with that, you made a break in the case.

-

Spencer called the rest of the team about the break as Hotch allowed the two of you to go to the other victims houses and search for more music notes; low and behold you now had 3 music notes placed under the corresponding victim heads.

“You keep staring at that board as if it's going to give you answers,” Derek said with a grin as he walked into the room; the rest of the team had been called out to another dead body.

“Hmm? Oh I just…” you shrugged, “i just get this feeling about the notes; they have to sound something but we just don't know what yet” before Derek could answer you the shrill of the phone went off.

“(Y/n)?” it was Spencer on loudspeaker; he never called you by your first name.

“Yeah what's up Reid?” you called back.

“We found another note; the round part is under the last line with the stem going up to the second line at the top,” you nodded in response (not that Spencer could see you) as you drew the note on a piece of paper with a sharpener and placed it on the victim board.

“Anything else? A clef at all anywhere?” you asked.

“Um i'm not- i don't think so?” it sounded like Spencer was shuffling around a few things to get a better look, “we have another piece of paper!” Spencer called out, moments later you got a photo on your phone. Sure enough there was a treble clef.

“Spence get everyone back here; i know what the notes mean”

-

“Our unsub is using something called the Dies Irae,” you played the first few notes on your phone over youtube, “you've all heard this song over time just not exactly in an orchestra setting; Star Wars, The Nightmare Before Christmas, The Corpse Bride, Sweeney Todd, The Shining, The Exorcist and many many more,” you played a few other videos of the notes from a few of the movies as everyone nodded.

“I can hear it,” J.J. mumbled.

“Same,” that was Emily.

“Right, so...it was originally used with catholic’s; they used the music in their Requiem services-”

“Requiem services are basically putting the dead to rest,” Spencer cut in quickly so the team could understand.

“Yeah, it's basically a song for the dead to stay dead in a way? I think our unsub is using the Sweeney Todd method; killing his victims with a razor. One slice across the neck while in a private area except this dude isn't a cannibal” you grinned at the remembrance of the film.

“Cannibal?” Derek and Emily questioned.

“In the movie Sweeney Todd is a barber, he comes back for revenge on the man who stole his wife and child and kills people in his barber shop which is also above a pie shop owned by a woman named Mrs Lovett; when Sweeney starts killing they come together in order to bring customers back to Mrs Lovett's pie shop. Because it's set in 1785 meat was expensive so instead they used the dead people as meat to sell to customers” you realised how long winded that explanation was and apologized, “sorry that was..i think our unsub is a barber” was your final statement. Hotch nodded and moved to press a button on the phone in the middle of the table, but the phone started ringing instead.

“Garcia?”

“I think i found our unsub; Chris Gevette, he filed for divorce after he gave evidence of spousal abuse but it seems like his wife had every piece of evidence that would be able to put him in jail rather than her so everything was blamed on him for the abuse and the jury ruled him unable to keep any stable relationship”

“Garcia do you have a work and home address?”

“Sent to your phones now; barber shop and home” the phone clicked off.

“(Y/n) i want you to go to the barber shop with Reid and Derek. Emily, J.J. and I will go to the house; Rossi stays here in case anything else happens.” and with that you all ran to the SUV’s.

-----

“CHRIS GEVETTE FBI!” Derek shouted through the door, your guns were drawn and ready for action as Derek kicked the door in. You moved swiftly through the shop, finding nothing but dust.

“Guys!” you were now out the back as your partners came running, “it's exactly like Sweeney Todd,” you motioned to the stairs in front of you before looking behind you, “there's stars that lead down as well; there may be bodies in there like the movie too, you go down there and i'll go up.”

“(Y/n) let me come with you,” that was Spencer, he looked genuinely concerned.

“I've got this Spence. Go” you started your ascent up the wooden stairs while trying to stay as quiet as you possibly could, “CHRIS GEVETTE,” you called out to the door once you got to it, you could hear the bustle of footsteps and made the split decision. The door was kicked in by you as you pointed your gun to Chris who was now holding a razor to a woman's neck.

“Get away!” Chris screamed, he was frantic; trembling and crying.

“Chris! Chris it's okay, i'm a good guy, okay?” you slowly let go of your gun, “im holstering my gun, okay?” you said as you're-holstered your gun, “Chris i know about the divorce-”

“No you dont!” Chris called, the woman under the razor trembled as the razor cut into her neck slightly.

“I do! Chris, I know you were abused! I know it wasn't you that did the abusing! If you let her go we can help you get custody and instead send that bitch to jail,” Chris looked almost relieved to hear that, he contemplated that for a moment before slowly letting the woman go. She ran over to you as Derek and Spencer finally came up the stairs and started handcuffing Chris.

“We’ve got two other bodies in the basement,” Spencer said to you while you held the trembling woman, “there's medic on the way now,” you nodded in affirmation before starting to help the women calm down and walk down the stairs.

------

The jet finally landed back at the bureau as the rest of your team started packing their things from their desks.

“Um (Y/n)” a voice called, you smiled as you looked up to see the person you least expected.

“Spence?” you questioned; your eyes darted around and couldn't see any other team member in sight, “everyone left already. Sorry. I've been in my own little world,” you gave a tight smile as you continued packing some extra files into your bag.

“It-it’s just me, but um, I just wanted to congratulate you on your break in the case,” the comment from Spencer's timid and small voice caught you off guard so much that you froze for a moment as you stared at him. It all seemed to go quiet, and slow; the clock on the wall seemed to tick at an atrociously slow pace.

Tick…

“(Y/n)?”

Tock…

“Hmm?”

“I uh, i was-”

“Oh, yeah um-”

Pause.

Quiet.

“Thank you,” smile.

Tick…

“I was...was wondering, (Y/n)...”

Tock…

“Yeah Spence?”

“Would you...would you like to go...on a date...with...me?”

Pause.

Quiet.

“With you?”

“Well, I did...I did say ‘me’ I hope- just, just forget it” and the world went back to normal as Spence started walking away.

“No Spence, wait!” you grabbed your things and quickly darted off after him; plunging your arm between the elevator doors and stepping in quickly before they shut behind you.

“Just forget it (Y/n); forget i ever asked and we can just go back to-”

“I would love to go on a date with you”

Tick…

“Really?”

“So long as you don't call me a paramecium again”

Tock…

“I won't; as long as you don't call me a substitute chemistry teacher”

Pause.

Quiet.

“I won't”

“Then it's settled.

Tick…

“Message me?”

“Of course”

Tock…

Smile.

[fragileizywriting]

friends (part two)

AO3 | Start Here | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

This… this is not fun.

He wants to be in bed with Marinette.

He wants to be under the thick covers on a cold and freezing morning and curl into her warmth and never leave. Is it the cat part of him, or the demon part of him that means this? After all, demons don’t like the cold— it burns through the hellfire that covers their soul and makes them all almost insufferable. His dad, too, is inconvenienced by any amount of freeze— he doesn’t get snippy but he’s seen the way that frown has transformed his father’s face into a disgruntled god.

But cats are no different, either— making it a habit to curl up in the warmest place and hide until it’s warm enough to move. Winters are hard for Chat when he’s not in hell, and Marinette always teases him for him retracting into his cat form almost for days at a time, trying to use his fur to keep the frost from seeping into his body. The cold and Chat Noir do not do so good.

Whatever it is that makes him hate this, he listens to it, souring his mood by thinking of all the things he’s missing without Marinette near.

Why hadn’t they just invited Marinette along? It’s not like she doesn’t ever come with them sometimes. She enjoys the experience of being on Luka’s boat, even if it is to collect ingredients on her own, and Chat Noir has always very much enjoyed her company. If Luka’s feeling up to it, which he often is, he goes collecting for her. Marinette’s list is never that long, given that she stocks up on everything she can get her hands on, but sometimes she’s in need of more.

Algae, rocks, a specific crystal that regrows every two weeks or so. Snails, any bottom-feeders that Luka can lure and trap for her, and definitely whatever type of ocean or lake plant she’s looking for. Every time Luka resurfaces with a new item, Marinette is so quick to smile and so quick to thank him, turning and spinning around on the deck to show Chat the new item before she puts it in a jar for storage.

But without her, this whole fishing moment is just… exhausting.

Truly, of all things he’s done in the past week and a half— this takes the cake as both the most mundane and the most unnecessary thing to do.

He’s built fence posts, he’s seen his mother and almost passed out from dehydration— he’s seen his father and gotten his whole world tilted onto its side and backwards— not to mention the bite marks and suture in his skin. He’s kissed Marinette— done more than just that, actually— and finds himself rubbing at the tattoo on his chest the more and more he thinks about being away from her. The seal burns purple against his hand, reminding him that he’s far from his witch’s magic, and that his entire body and soul misses her.

Today’s fishing is just too much.

Luka agrees with him— he knows it— because the naga’s eyes are closed as the sun beats down on their shoulders, warming their skin and bodies to the point of laziness. Chat can barely keep his eyes open, looking out to the lake, his eyelids getting heavier and heavier as the sun continues to bake them alive.

Just their luck. The two people who struggle the most to focus when there’s a patch of sun are now subjugated to an entire afternoon of it— what he wouldn’t give to just transform into his cat form and lounge for the rest of the day, yearning to be in his witch’s lap as she pets through his fur.

“Why is it so sunny?” Chat complains into the silence, trying not to close his eyes for too long. This is perfect napping weather— all he has to do is just rest his head and… “Of all days for it to be ridiculously sunny.”

“It’s good for the festival,” Luka answers, looking just as out of it as he is. It’s laughable, of course, that a water creature such as Luka would absolutely go frozen stiff at the prospect of baking under the sun. Even though he’s not a snake— or at least, that’s what Luka always argues whenever he brings it up— he certainly acts like one. He looks ready to lay down and coil up, let his blood be warmed up by the sun, and stay that way for days.

“What’s going on with the weather this week?” He sniffs, not exactly stopping himself from laying back down on the deck of Luka’s boat. The Liberty doesn’t even budge under their weight— she’s a solid, heavy barge that is more long than tall— it offers barely any protection from the elements coming from the sky. It’s a floating platform, essentially, which is perfect for nagas who frequently spend most of their time in the water and have a tough time climbing up the sides of their boats from how slippery they are— and the boat is also long enough to house a superfluous amount of nagas, as well as their long tails comfortably, should they feel the need to curl up instead of letting their tails hang off the boat.

And it fits the fish as well.

Lots and lots of barrels of fish.

“The constellations are starting to move.” Luka answers, almost sounding a bit too serious. The tip of Luka’s tail sways in the water with the gentle current that is too soft to genuinely make a dent in the barge’s lazy course to the middle of the lake. His plumes open instinctually wherever his tail meets the water— a sway of fins that only come out when there is enough moisture. He is more sea serpent this way, than an actual snake— and his tail glitters with sparks of gold underneath the clear water. Fish swim by next to him, curious as to whose fins are swaying like a tree in a breeze, and Chat Noir admits— even if it’s to himself and safely away in his head— that he understands why nagas consider themselves sea serpents instead of just snakes. “There’s a celestial storm coming. Did you not know?”

“This sounds like a horoscope,” Chat doesn’t let the idea settle into his head. “Celestial storm? Don’t pull at my tail, Luka. You won’t believe that my parents are gods, but you’ll believe in celestial storms?”

He snorts. “No one believes you when you say your parents are two divinities.”

“At least it’s more believable than hearing you talk about how a ‘ tornado will come from Orion—’ or ‘ an earthquake has been predicted because of Antares—’”

Luka smiles good-humouredly. “Idiot, nothing of that sort. Naga use constellations to guide themselves across the sea, you pruned lion.”

“‘Pruned lion’,” Chat mutters, resting his clawed hands against his chest. Rubbing and rubbing and rubbing away at the seal. “I’ll show you a ‘pruned lion’.”

“There’s not much paper we can use on the sea. Clay is a good substitute, but they’re too heavy when using as maps, so we navigate by using stars. We can tell when stars aren’t in their place,” Luka continues, as if he’s barely heard him. “And they are most definitely not in their places. Just last night, eight northern constellations moved closer south.”

Chat’s feet dangle off the edge of the platform that makes the Liberty, and his toes sink into the water. It’s lukewarm, heated by the sun that beats down and down and down, but much easier and cooler than the damp and still air above.

He has half a mind to dunk himself body and whole into the water just to cool off, but knows that his hair will dry in the shape of a dandelion if he does that, so it’s a stern no. There’s no way in hell he’s going to worry about how his hair dries while trying to fish with a naga by his side. Besides, getting ready for the festival will take him a lot longer if he has to tame his hair— he doesn’t mind getting brushed by Marinette when she corners him, but his fur usually snags into knots and it’s painful. “Fine, fine. I believe you— you don’t need to get all technical on me. I’ve just never heard of a celestial storm before.”

“Probably not, since you don’t need to use stars to see like we do. The celestial storm just brings indication that there will be a large magical gathering soon— it’s nothing inherently serious.”

Interesting. “You mean like the festival?”

“Exactly. It’s something to be cautious of, that’s all— it just ends up confusing lots of naga who are trying to travel somewhere new for the first time. There might be a lot more naga at the festival than usual, since the stars are pointing in this direction.”

“That’s not too bad— no one has anything against your kind, anyway. Witches and magic-users from all places are coming here to see the infamous Ladybug, after all— they want to get her good wishes on behalf of my mother— so it’s not like a big deal to see more of you.”

There’s laughter in his voice. “‘The one who can cast good fortune on even the sick and the dying’, yes, I know. But unfortunately, no— the magical gathering isn’t the reason for the stars warping. It’s something bigger than that. Bigger than her. Constellations only move when sages or gods show up.”

Well. Well well well. He doesn’t really need to think about it, now does he?

“How long have they been moving?”

“They only started four days ago.”

“Have they shifted back?”

“No.” Chat doesn’t need to look at him to know that there’s a question forming on his face. He knows Luka too well by now. “Your questions are oddly specific for someone that never heard of this storm before.”

“Well, good to hear. You don’t need to worry about all that— but thank you for the confirmation.” He spreads his good arm out as far as he can reach it. He ends up hitting Luka in the chest, and the naga hisses out, startled— but other than that, they match each other by slowly cooking in the heat. Luka’s heartbeat is slow against his palm, and Chat has no real reason to pull away, so he just leaves it there on his jacket. “Everything will go back to what it once was after the festival.”

“I thought you said you didn’t believe in horoscopes. Why are you fortune-telling?”

“Because my dad isn’t going to set the festival on fire just because he’s up here.” Maybe. There’s a strong likelihood he won’t, given that he’s already caused too much mischief.

“Right, right. Your ‘father’. You think Plagg is here?”

“The stars said so, didn’t they?” He flashes a smile, even though they’re not making eye contact. It’s instinctual to try to get a rise out of the man sitting next to him. “Relax. I won’t let him set fire to things— Marinette’s been making all of those charms for the past three months, it won’t go to waste.”

“Remind me to get a handful of them, since I’m going to be spending most of it next to you,” The driest thing in the world is hearing Luka’s voice go flat. “The last thing I need is to catch fire from your terrible luck.”

“Wh— rude. I don’t have bad luck, that’s just a myth— but I’ll gladly walk underneath a ladder for you in order to give you what you deserve. Anyway, I thought you were going to find yourself someone new to fancy? What was the whole point of the molting?”

“The two people that I actually cared to court are currently taken. I’m not disappointed, but I’m rather bored of humans otherwise.” Luka’s breath deepens as if he’s falling asleep at the idea of spending that much energy finding someone else. “If someone were to approach, I’ll at least give them the benefit of listening, but you won’t find me looking for new people.”

“You’d make a good familiar to whatever witch shows up to you tonight,” Chat oof!s hard when Luka’s hand does the exact same and hits him on the chest. He snorts on instinct, thinking a second or two longer on the idea. “Do you have an animal form like I do?”

“I’d rather not tell you, just in case you get ideas. But I would hope that she would like me for more than just a pet, unlike Marinette.”

He ignores his comment. “Most magic users can create some sort of animal form for themselves, no? Humans can’t, but I’m sure a naga could. Are you sure you don’t have a snake form?”

“I’m still not telling you the answer.”

“I’m imagining a faceless witch wearing you like a scarf as she brews,” For some reason, he imagines a white snake wrapped around a neck, even though Luka’s tail is very much blue. “You’d be happy getting to laze around while your lady works.”

“I should give it a try with Marinette one day. You wouldn’t mind sharing, would you, kitty-cat? After all, she doesn’t mind sharing you with me.”

“Funny.” He tries his best not to laugh, but he’s weak to the comedy of this whole day. It’s beyond painful to keep the laughter in, of how this day has been just another bizarre domino in the whole scheme of the week.

“It’s good to hear you laugh,” Luka sighs. “I was beginning to worry you actually hated me. Ever since this morning you’ve been snippier to me than usual— you’re not actually worried I pose a threat of some kind, do you?”

Wait. “Are you insecure?”

“You two are my closest friends.” Luka doesn’t meet his eyes when Chat lifts up from his spot to look down at him with furrowed brows. “After Adrien passed, I didn’t have many people, you know.”

Wait. “Hold on, you knew Adrien that well?”

“I didn’t know you knew who that was.” Luka raises a brow.

“Marinette talks about him.” Never mind the other things…

“He was my first friend when I was very young.” He shrugs, still giving Chat the stink eye like he doesn’t actually believe him. “Naga aren’t as scary as people think, but humans are prejudiced to their own kind all of the time, so it’s not hard to believe that they won’t be to nonhumans too. Adrien brought me into the friend group before he got sick.”

Adrien, Adrien, Adrien. Always Adrien, isn’t it? “Was he the closest friend you had?”

“Probably. Nino and I were always really good friends, back in the day. But Marinette and I got rather close after Adrien’s passing. I would see her almost every day if I decided to stay nearby.”

Oh. Oh. “No wonder you were so uncomfortable with the idea of her moving a demon into her house.”

His eyes go flat. “A girl I liked suddenly bringing a demon home? Anyone would’ve been worried.”

Chat can’t force himself to stop chuckling. “I guess I can see why you were… not the nicest person to me at first.”

“She’s never been afraid of you, but I think that just made me even more worried.” Luka gestures towards Chat’s direction, as if that helps explain better. “It doesn’t take much brainpower to realize what a Ladybug needs a Chat Noir for. Forgive me for not buying the little nonchalant act between the two of you, but I can read the little pearl like the back of my hand, after all.”

“So you know about the miraculous cure.”

“Yes. Anyone with reading eyes can put two and two together, kitty-cat. Information isn’t kept that hushed about it.”

He ignores the needling smile gracing Luka’s features. “How well exactly did you know Adrien?”

“Well enough to know that his sickness was strange. His death was stranger. The smell on Marinette’s clothes was horrid, when she’d ran into me in the woods while stricken with grief and crying. We were all terrified by it, obviously, but Marinette seemed to be the most affected— probably because she was the one to try to see him the day he died. Nino, Marinette, and I were the most affected.” He sighs. “I don’t think Nino’s ever actually talked about it that much, but they were best friends.”

“Smell.” Chat winces. “What smell?”

“Same smell that’s coming off your stitches on your arm. I recognize the smell of hellfire anywhere, it sticks to my nose for weeks. I’ll never forget the first time I smelled it sticking to Marinette’s clothes.” Luka laughs bitterly. “Running down the path in the woods towards the ocean like she was crazed. Death clinging to her dress like she was his daughter.”

“Hellfire. You smelled hellfire? Are you sure?”

Luka’s looking at him curiously, now. “I’m positive. What’s on your mind?”

Adrien’s room had been covered with the smell of… hellfire? That’s just further proof that something definitely happened— one more thing pointing to his own relation to Adrien. One more damning evidence that his past life could be tied to Marinette’s wish. If only he could get his memories back to actually prove it as fact, though…

He flattens his ears across his head, looking back out on the water. “Don’t— don’t mention this to anyone what I’m about to tell you. Promise me you won’t. This can’t start a crowd.”

Luka’s eyes turn to gold as he squints. “Of course.”

“Marinette and I found out that there could’ve been foulness in his death. Odor or otherwise.”

The naga pauses. “Are you saying a demon of some kind could’ve been the reason for the smell?”

“I don’t want to tell you something only for it to be wrong later, but the basic answer is that Adrien most likely didn’t die from an illness after all.” He licks his lips.

“You’re saying that Adrien’s father might have summoned a demon for some reason?”

“No. I have no idea what it could be, but, if there was hellfire involved, there’s definitely something to do with hell in this poor boy’s death. We don’t have all of the information yet, but I think it’s a little bit more difficult than just pointing fingers.”

Luka’s quiet for a long time. There are gears turning in his head too, no doubt, trying to piece together all of the information. “Gabriel could… most likely be at the festival tonight.”

His head snaps up. “What? He will?”

“A couple of my kind saw his ship sailing close by the shore and where our dens are. He left— or, rather, fled, now that there’s an implication that he could’ve been responsible for something to do with Adrien— town years ago, and never came back. It’s been completely silent from him, deciding to even move countries, but I think he’s here for a blessing of some kind by a Ladybug.”

“Shit.”

“Agreed.”

“Shit.”

Luka sighs. “It’s just speculation, of course. I have no idea if he even knows that Marinette is Ladybug, never mind the fact that he might not be stopping by after all. He could just be here to visit family friends, and is using the festivities as a genuine and good excuse. What will you two do? Confront him?”

“I don’t know.” Chat answers honestly. “I genuinely don’t know. My dad doesn’t know much of the story, either— and he’s usually on top of his game on paying attention to these types of things, but got distracted the day it all happened. It’s not often you hear of a human getting caught in the crossfire of hell matters— but we’re all stumped, so it’s not like we can pin it directly on Gabriel with no reason. I’m going to need more information.”

Luka is surprisingly not as agitated with the whole thing as he’d expected. He’d expected surprise, or confusion, not genuine contemplation like he is now. The naga hums at the back of his throat, attempting to piece things together himself. “Do you think Adrien is still out there, maybe?”

“Well… He’s not dead,” Well. Are demons considered alive in the first place? Is this a moral or philosophical question? At what point is Chat Noir even considered alive? And if he really was Adrien, would he consider Adrien to be dead in this case? Rebirthed as Chat Noir? His head hurts. “As far as we know. Maybe in a sort of limbo state. What a mess.”

“This sounds a lot more confusing than I thought it would be. I can’t imagine this is any easy on the two of you. Adrien was my best friend and it’s hurting me to hear about it, I can’t imagine what it’s doing to the little witch.”

“She’s been… a little bit confused about it, too. I can’t wait for the festival and get her to relax about it— yesterday it was nonstop. The both of us, honestly, need to stop thinking about this for just a bit. You and I should keep an eye out for Gabriel just in case. I don’t know what he looks like, but, anything that’ll get us closer to the truth I’ll do it.”

But Luka’s smile is kind, and Chat can sense he’s trying to skirt the subject away and get him to think of other things. “Sure. I didn’t have plans, anyway, so that’s fine. And I’m sure you two managed to distract each other at some point yesterday, right?”

“By the grace of my mother,” Chat mutters under his breath. “This entire week has been monstrous to us, Luka. Every day has been a discovery, I don’t even know what to do or how to handle it. Not to mention that even my father thinks you and I are a good match together, did you know that? The amount of years I’ve aged each day in this disaster of a week would’ve turned a human into dust by now.”

Luka turns, belly-side down, hiding away his pale under-scales in favor of showing his long blue-and-diamond-patterned back. He ends up dunking more of his tail into the water, and those ghost-like fins blossom from underneath his scales like a billowing sheet. The water is hazy from all the glittering gold and those glossy, feathery fins. “Perhaps I’ll listen more often to what you have to say about your family, after all. Is he truly the king of the underworld?”

“Shut up,” Chat really can’t stop himself from laughing, because he doesn’t have any emotional handle on any of this. “If you have any luck, you might see him visit the festival and actually find out. Maybe I’ll have all my friends meet him, so that you all can stop making fun of me when I say it.”

“What in the world is the king doing here?”

“Visiting his son, you noodle.” He slips his eyes shut.

Ah, this is more natural territory for them both, isn’t it? He can almost feel how easy it is for the two of them to slip back into banter. “Careful, now. You’re implying that I’m tasty.”

“And also very easily chewable, what do you think about that?” He’s bit into Luka’s tail a few times, and each time he’s felt how the muscles had shifted under those hard scales. It’s amazing his teeth can even penetrate the scales from how genuinely hardened they are, but he supposes that anything is possible with a jaw strength like his. He cracks back open one of his eyes, looking at Luka, who continues to just look at him with humor swimming on his face. “Hey, how come you aren’t fishing?”

“I am fishing, you idiot.”

“Bullshit. Where’s your fishing pole?”

“I’m not fishing with a pole today.”

“What?” This gets Chat Noir to sit back up, looking around. He blinks hard in the sunlight, willing his eyes to focus without hurting his vision. His pole at the far end of the barge is completely still, resting in a small divot carved into the boat, the fishing wire still swaying with nothing grabbing onto the bait. He narrows his eyes at the single pole, looking around for Luka’s, which is no doubt somewhere on the boat, only to come up with nothing. “Have you been using your net this entire time?”

“And if I have?”

“I thought we said no fishing with nets this time.”

“We said no fishing with Marinette this time.” Luka’s eyes are absolutely vibrant and gold as Chat Noir turns to look back at him in the eyes. He looks a little bit more awake than he does, but that’s probably because Luka’s cooling off in the water with most of his body in it, while Chat continues to bake. “You and I get too distracted around the little pearl, you especially more now. And the festival needs fish— the last time I went pole fishing with you, I got a hook stuck in my dorsal fin.”

“That was your own fault, noodle.”

“Again with calling me tasty,” Luka sighs. “Honestly, Chat Noir, it’s a miracle Marinette’s fallen in love with you when you’re so keen on flirting with me, instead.”

“At least I don’t injure myself while flirting with her, and don’t realize that my hook was next to one of my fins before trying to cast out my line.” He rolls his eyes. He remembers the nasty gash, and how the translucent fin had bled for what looked like to be far too long for a simple cut, and how Marinette had spent so long carefully stitching the feathery membranes back together with suture, willing for the fins to heal. There’s a scar still left behind on that fin, but it’s hard to see unless he’s close enough to really look at the little veins and how they’re slightly wobbly.

Luka snorts. “Of course, of course.”

“That’s what you get for flirting with my Lady.”

“So childish. You’d think I’d be allowed to talk to a good friend of mine without her familiar puffing up his chest.” Luka sighs, unraveling his jacket on the waist. The pearls on his sleeves shine all sorts of colors as his shoulders shift, and he folds the garment carefully with his long claws. Every bead is delicately sown in, and he knows that Marinette has obsessively looked over the pattern work, as well as the stitchwork, with amazement and gluttony.

Would she be happy if he bought a naga jacket for her? Maybe in a dark red color, or a white as similar as Luka’s and a red sash? Something pearlescent, though— a plain white jacket wouldn’t match the paleness of her skin. It would look as if she’s wearing nothing at all.

“Loverboy, I’m going to go check up on my net. Stop swimming in your thoughts and focus on fishing. Cast yours as well, won’t you?”

He registers that he’s been drifting off into thought, rubbing at his tattoo across his chest, still thinking of her. He thinks about what Luka’s said for a little while, trying to remember if he’d been making a point, only to realize: “I didn’t bring mine.”

“Use my spare, then.” Luka laughs. “I’ll be back in a second— try not to get lonely, kitty-cat, okay?”

Luka slips off the boat entirely with a gentle splash noise. Chat watches with mild interest as Luka’s long and elaborate tail starts to plume again, filling out with all sorts of fins now that he’s entirely in the water, disappearing under the boat into the shade where no doubt many fish are hiding. He reminds Chat very dimly of a betta fish, with how gentle and fanish the fins are. No doubt that naga are incredibly good hunters in the water, but Chat Noir can’t help but wonder why they look so delicate and so easily tearable once they’re subjected to a humid environment.

He looks back to the empty barrels behind him with a sigh. Maybe his mother will bless him with good fortune, although, in all honesty— it’s doubtful. Very doubtful. He’s just going to have to do this by hand, it seems, to which he sends a quick prayer to his father— hopeful that instead of blessing him with good luck, he gives Luka enough bad luck for him to win.

And maybe he’ll be able to stop thinking of it for a few more minutes, too.

She finally finishes with the first stack of charms when Alya ends up knocking on the door. There’s a breeze gentle enough to kiss her cheeks brushing up against the windows— she’s let the panels of the house open enough to catch the draft. It’s light, as gentle as a cloud against her skin as she works, and barely stirs the fire from its slow attempt to reignite from the coals. The breeze is good for her heart, she supposes— every once in a while stopping in her attempt to complete her task in order to bask in how content she feels.

Her heart is full.

Of thoughts of Chat Noir, of thoughts of them, of thoughts of being happy. The thoughts she hadn’t given the chance to breed and fester are suddenly in full swing in her chest and mind, allowing her to gaze longingly out the window, wondering about him. There are many things to do in order to get the festival up and ready, and many of them will have to be done at the fields on the other side of town, but she’s certain that she’ll be able to finish a second or third stack of charms before she has to slip out of the cottage and go start the physical preparations.

Alya’s here to collect her, no doubt, just like Luka had said she would.

She’s brought Nino along, too, and Marinette is quick to grin and pull the two close enough to smother them into her shoulders. “Hello!”

“Hello there, Mari!” Nino twirls her, pressing their foreheads together. As like many people in her life, Nino is much taller than her— he makes up for it by bending his back as much as possible to be at her height. “I haven’t seen you in so long. How have you both been?”

“We’ve been well,” She laughs, cupping his cheeks with her hands. He lets her, eyes squinting behind his glasses, looking at her with friendly affection. “Much much better now, recently. The rain finally letting up is much better for the farm— oh, but I’ve missed you both. When was the last time we spoke?”

“Far too long.” He muses, breaking away enough to allow Alya to crush her into another hug. Her friend’s arms are warm, and comforting, and so definitely sweet. Living in the cottage away from town is mostly good, and allows her to work on her potions in peace— but it doesn’t allow her to see her friends as much as she wants to. The two of them are always so busy running their tavern, and renovations to Marinette’s own shop have made her daily check-in to their eatery almost impossible. “Where is Chat? Don’t think I forgot about him— I haven’t seen him in forever, either. Where is that cat?”

“Out fishing with Luka, unfortunately. They’re at the lake, if you’d like to go join them?”

“Absolutely not,” Nino breaks out into laughter as he unlaces his boots. “The last thing I need is to be caught in the crossfire between the two of them. It’s usually fine, I enjoy their banter and their desperate attempts to find reasons to touch each other without making it weird, but I’m trying to look my best for the festival.”

“And I’m sure you can’t do that when you’re in the middle of getting your hair scorched off.” Marinette can’t stop laughing.

“You and everyone else,” Alya rolls her eyes, letting go of her so she can breathe and not cough into her sleeve. Alya hugs like she has a vendetta. “What are you trying to look good for, anyway?”

“The more presentable I look, the more likely people are willing to give us tips in the end, my dearest.” He waggles his brows. Oh, the two of them are so lovely— Marinette watches with a yearning and heartful gaze as Nino bends Alya back in his arms, dipping her low, a firm arm underneath her waist. Even with only one shoe on, and his feather in his cap dangling dangerously low to brushing against their faces through the entire action, he’s nothing short of having heart eyes for the woman in his arms instead of dissolving into giggles like Marinette is. “I may be a good player, but we all know that only the truly most handsome get the money at the end of the day.”

“Then it’s good fortune for us that I have the most handsomest man in the world by my side,” Alya smiles so warmly, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Oh, the two of them— Marinette is helpless to give a little sigh at how perfect the two of them are. “We’ll be rich in no time.”

Love. Love love love.

By far one of the most important things that Marinette has ever been able to witness firsthand is the way the two of them look at each other— her heart is ready to explode. She hasn’t touched the cookies in a couple of days, still trying to get the bitter taste of love sick out of her mouth and away, and looking at the cookies gives her a slight nausea, but the core principle is still there.

Love.

She’s so giddy and warm.

“Oh! Come on, come into the house for breakfast, join me at the table. I’ll get a new pot of tea out, does that sound good?” It’ll be good for her, too— it’s a good thing she has those herbs on hand, or else she would be worried about any developments in her body she isn’t ready to have— the problem now, of course, will be to make sure neither of them pick up on her dropping additional leaves into her cup. Alya is persistent and keen and notices just about everything there is to notice, which means that unless she’s genuinely distracted by Nino, it’ll be impossible to dissuade her from asking questions.

Marinette readies herself, turns to the kitchen, and beckons the two of them to finish unlacing their boots while sitting the iron kettle on the oven to heat.

“Awh, I’m sorry, Mari. We’ve already eaten breakfast,” Nino has to help Alya, of course, because her petticoats are far too long and her stays are too thick with boning for her to bend properly for her feet.

“Oh? That’s alright. I think I have something you both will enjoy snacking on while I continue working on my stuff.” Marinette grins when they finally make it to the table. She moves the charms away and clears most of the space for there to be enough room for the three of them— she drops the unfinished charms into a corded bag, for now, tying the little string. “So. Do you remember the lover cookies?”

“Do I? The same cookies that made Nino realize that he did, in fact, have feelings for me?”

“Hard to imagine a time that you two didn’t date,” Marinette giggles. “But yes, those exactly.”

“I always knew I loved you,” Nino pouts. “My problem was I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

“Telling me ‘I love you’ would’ve been enough, you know.”

“How was I supposed to know that?” Nino sighs. “We were all so caught up with the loss of Adrien that I didn’t know how to do anything.”

Marinette stops wiping at the table with her apron. Alya and Nino always remind her that she’s not the only one who misses their old friend. She never wanted to bring Adrien back because of her love— she wants to bring him back for everyone’s sake. Luka, Nino, Alya— their friends miss him. So dearly and so much— and talk about him as if he’s simply moved town, instead of being gone forever— but she’s never actually… explained that she plans on bringing him back. And now with the complicated mess of Chat Noir possibly being Adrien…

Oh, her head hurts. Just when she thought she could survive five more minutes not thinking about this tangled web. It’s as difficult to navigate as Plagg’s magic.

“Right, yes— I remember.”

“Mari?” Alya tilts her head, looking at how she massages her temples. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes— yes I’m okay. I just wish he were here.” Marinette smiles small, trying her best to ignore the way the seals on her ears burn. The two of them look at her with knowing gazes— they know she’s consumed some of the cookies herself. What they don’t know is that her heartache is actually pointing in an entirely different direction… or, perhaps, the same direction after all— just the person has a different name now. “I miss his laughter. I miss him— so I made lover honey cookies a couple of days ago, but I’m still in the process of making more, along with the charms. Would you two like to try them?”

Nino looked pained. “Are you making them for the festival?”

“Just in honor of our friend,” Marinette shares a private smile with herself. “It was his favorite, after all. It’s almost been ten years since he’s been gone.”

Alya’s eyes widen, looking down at the plate that Marinette puts in front of her with wide eyes. “Oh, how interesting. A cat shape?”

“Chat’s idea,” Marinette eagerly waits for them to try some, smiling a little bit wider. The cookies don’t snap in their mouths— still moist enough and sweet enough that it’s more of a chew than a crunch. The two of them hum appreciatively as Marinette takes a bit of time to pat off her apron clean of dirt. “What do you two think? Still good?”

“This tastes wonderful.” Alya sighs. “How is it that you make things taste like a whole fantasy? I feel like I’m biting into a cloud.”

“Guess it’s just part of my luck,” She giggles. “What do you think, Nino?”

“I think that, if I weren’t already with Alya, I’d confess my love to her on the spot all over again.” Nino’s face pinks. “This cookie is so strong. Did Chat try some?”

“He did.” She tries to hide her blushing and focuses instead on some dried-up flour on the edge of the table. “We both got love sick from all the cookies we ate. We probably ate a whole batch and a half, honestly— don’t do it. You’ll get overwhelmed with love.”

Alya hums with the cookie in her mouth, sharing a look with Nino. “Oh, really?”

“There’s no need to act all mysterious,” She shies, hiding her hands behind her, wringing her fingers through the laces of her apron. She looks to the single fire lily in the vase, how beautiful the blossom’s orange petals are, smiling to herself. “The cookies don’t make you feel love, but rather just amplify the feeling, and you two definitely know that. It wasn’t hard to put the context of his purring together with why we were getting overwhelmed.”

“Y—” Their eyes widen. Alya gasps. “So— he— you—”

Are there stars in her eyes? It feels like there are stars in her eyes. “We… talked about it.”

And other things. Lots of other things. Where was that bag of herbs, again?

“Chat Noir finally managed to confess?” Nino has to sit down from shock. “Holy hell!”

She sets out three tea trays, ignoring the way Alya looks at her knowingly when she sprinkles ginger root into one of the porcelain cups. Alya will accost her for that one later, that much is certain. “Wait, you— uhm. You knew?”

“Everyone does! Everyone knows that your familiar’s affections for you are much more than just friendly. Chat Noir has always— always— had his eyes on you, and has never concealed it.” Alya rolls her eyes. There’s a glitter in her smile, something that wasn’t there before, just proving to Marinette that she is absolutely going to get hounded the moment the two of them are alone. “I didn’t even need gossip for that one. His eyes follow you everywhere.”

“Oh. So, everyone, huh?” She blushes.

“Anyone with eyes can tell, yes.” Alya takes a seat next to Nino. She grabs for another cookie, nibbling on the tail, “Everyone could tell your affections for him, too. I was hoping something good would come out of it. Good to see that everything is well, in the end!”

“So are you two… together?” Nino doesn’t let Marinette steam behind her hands for very long. “Actually actually?”

“Uhm— well— I hope so. I think so. We talked about it—” Alya’s snorts cut her off, hiding a ‘yeah, and more’ under her breath. Marinette steams harder. “Uhm— and I really do think we’ll be together for a long time.”

“Is that even allowed for demons?”

“I don’t think we’re breaking any rules,” She rubs at her earlobes. Yet another thing to consider… “Uhm. Maybe I’ll have to talk to him about it. Who knows? He could be fine, considering his father—”

“Is 'the king of hell'.” Alya curls her smile. “And so, with a kiss, Marinette has accepted his propaganda.”

They have no idea how confusing it gets, do they? To know that Chat Noir could absolutely be telling the truth, and furthermore— the shenanigans that Plagg caused? She snorts behind a hand, thinking of how to even begin breaching the topic of a god stopping by to prank a witch and his demon son. Even if he really isn’t the king of hell, he’s certainly showing that he’s living up to the name… she can’t stop giggling. “Let’s hope he’s telling the truth. Why don’t you two enjoy some more cookies while I work on more of my charms? Or should we go to the field now?”

AO3 | Start Here | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[dalamjisung]

childlike love ✾ kim yugyeom

word count: 6909

genre: hospital!au, fluff

pairing: Pediatrician!Yugyeom x Pre-School Teacher!Reader

description: he’s a big baby and you wouldn’t mind taking care of him too. 

“Everybody inside!” One of the teachers call. “Let’s go, kids! We have a fun day ahead!”

You smile, watching the parents drop their kids in their classrooms. As per usual, you are waiting by the front door for your kids, having a quick word with each of the parents to calm them down. It is always the same, even though you’ve been teaching their kids for almost a year now– will they be okay? or call me if they need me! As a pre-school teacher, you are used to these kind of requests, and you only smile and assure them that everything will be okay.

“Okay,” You mutter, looking around the classroom and counting the children. “We’re only missing–“

“She’s here!”

Your head snaps to the side to see little Choi Minjae grabbing tightly onto a man’s neck as he runs into the school. Knowing for a fact that that is not her father nor her mother, you slowly approach the stranger, eyes trained on the little girl in his arms, looking for any sign of discomfort, but you see none. She looks pretty comfortable with him, so you smile, feeling a little more at ease.

“Good morning, Minjae-ah!” You say softly once she’s on the ground and next to you. Her shy giggle makes your heart warm up and you pat her head as she hugs your legs.

“Goo’ morning, Ms. Y/L/N,” She smiles and then looks back at the man. “Bye-bye, Uncle Yugyeom!”

He waves back and high-fives her with the promise of coming back to pick her up in five hours. 

“I’m sorry for barging in like that,” He says looking at you with a light blush tainting his cheeks. “Youngjae called me thirty minutes ago and told me was caught up in the hospital and his wife has been away on a business trip and–“

“It’s completely okay,” You smile, trying to calm the ranting man down. “Next time, however, could you just ask that either Mr. Choi or Mrs. Choi call the principle and let him know that there will be another guardian coming?”

“Of course!” He smiles. “I’ll ask him as soon as I leave here. I’m Yugyeom, by the way. Kim Yugyeom.”

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N,” You shake his hand and look in the classroom, noticing that the kids are starting to get antsy. “I have to go, but it was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Kim!”

He makes a face and laughs. “Yugyeom, please. I’m too young to be Mr. Kim.”

“Yugyeom, then,” You wave. “See you in a few hours when you come to pick Minjae up.”

“See you, teacher.”

You chuckle at the nickname and go inside, clapping your hands excitedly to get the children’s attention. It’s time to start the day. As always, the kids are incredible; there are a few fights here and there but nothing that interrupted with the flow of the classroom. What you love the most about teaching pre-school kids is seeing their development with basic understanding, starting to make sense of storytelling and memories. You love each of them with your whole heart, even if you had a few favorites. The bell signals the end of the school day and you smile, feeling exhausted but content. 

“Good bye Ms. Y/N!” Some kids shout as they run to their waiting parents. You wave and watch as they get picked up by their guardians, always on the lookout for anyone that seems strange to one of the kids. You are leaning on the door, watching everyone go, when you feel a weak pull on your pants.

“Ms. Y/N?” 

You look down to see Minjae hugging her yellow backpack tightly, eyes wide and confused.

“Yes?” You smile, crouching down to match her height. 

“Where is daddy?” She asks, voice dying down in the end. You can hear the sadness of being left behind and you pet her head lightly. 

“Daddy is working, Minjae-ah,” You say slowly. “Remember? Daddy brings babies to the world to make people happy! But your Uncle should be here soon, he said he’d come pick you up today.”

“Uncle Yugyeom?” She asks and you nod. “But Uncle Yugyeom works with daddy… so isn’t he busy, too?”

“Yugyeom is also a doctor?” To say you are surprised is an understatement. You knew that Minjae was smart, but her train of thought it a bit advanced for someone that’s only four. 

“Yes,” She nods and sits down on the floor, pulling on your hand until you are seated too. “He takes care of the babies daddy brings into the world.”

Oh, so he’s a pediatrician?

“That’s nice, isn’t it?” You get up and bring her some paper and crayons. “What do you want to be when you grow up, Minjae-ah?”

“I want to be a doctor!” She says firmly and you assumed that would be her response. Her father is a doctor and everyone in her life seems to work in the medicine area. “But not like daddy, I don’t like babies. I want to be a doctor like Uncle Mark and Uncle Jaebeom.”

“And what do these uncles do?” 

“They save people who are dying.”

You choke on air. “W-what?”

“I don’t want people to die, Ms. Y/N,” Minjae says with an odd softness to her voice. “So I want to save them.”

“That is very brave of you, Minjae,” You say and you hope, you really, really hope that in the future, when she is grown and haven’t thought of you in years, she’ll remember these words. “I’m really proud of you. I’m sure your parents and uncles are, too.”

“We are.”

Minjae is on her feet instantly, running to the tall man at the door. He is still wearing his white coat and you chuckle a bit, getting up from the floor, as he leans down to hug his niece; the hight difference making you coo in adorableness. 

“I’m sorry for being late,” He sighs, and looks at you. “A patient ran late and–“

“It’s completely fine,” You nod at him. “She is a wonderful kid and we had a good time while waiting.”

“I see that,” He points at the drawings on the ground, where colors are mixed and matched. “Minjae always has a good time with you.”

“Oh, did she say that?” You ask, looking at the child resting on his lap. She giggles and nods.

“I did, I did!” Her little arms wave around and you laugh. “Can we go, now? I’m hungry…”

“Of course!” Yugyeom nods. “Thank you again, Y/N.”

“No problem,” You smile, waving. “She’s always welcome.”

“Oh! I already talked to the principal, by the way,” He says with a big smile. “I am not sure exactly when Youngjae will need me to come pick her up so they put me down as a permanent guardian.”

“That’s great, thank you for talking to him,” You smile.

“No problem! See you whenever Youngjae is busy!”

As they walk away, you can’t help but smile widely, thinking of this odd man and how you just know you’ll see him again. You also think about how much you want to see him again and you shake your head, laughing at your own foolishness. 

No way a man like that is not already taken, you think starting to clean the classroom. And even if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t choose me, that’s for sure.

                                                         ——————————————

The things about accidents is that you never see them coming, but somehow, it’s always your fault. It’s supposed to be a simple painting exercise; you tell the kids that they can draw whatever they want– family members, friends, animals, shapes. It’s all up to them, and later, you’d put them all on the wall to let everyone see each other’s work. 

Things go south when Jaemin, a very excited and energetic little boy, decides to grab the blue pain on the top shelf by himself. He’s usually like that and that’s why you always keep an eye on him, but today you are busy helping Mina with mixing blue and yellow to make the perfect green, and you don’t see Jaemin climbing on a chair and reaching for the heavy pot of paint. You make it fast enough to stop the whole thing from collapsing on top of the child, but he’s already crying from falling off the chair and hitting his head on the floor. In consequence, the cabinet falls on top of you, and you wince as pain shoots through your body, but you forget about it quick enough, pushing it back in its place and scooping Jaemin up in your arms. 

“Are you okay?” You ask, hands softly roaming around his head, looking for any sing of blood, and thankfully you find none. Still worried, you call for a substitute teacher for a while so that you can take Jaemin to the nurse. 

He’s still crying desperately once you get to the nurse’s office, but you don’t see the sweet old lady that is usually sitting by her desk; instead, there is a note of absence, and you can’t help but panic for a moment. 

“What the f–“ You stop yourself before you scare the little boy even further, and you almost run to the principal’s office. “Sir, I need the guardians list.”

“What happened?!” He asks, alarmed. Chanyeol is a very competent worker and he deeply cares for the children under the care of the employees in the school, but he’s never been good with emergencies. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh–“

“Chanyeol,” You breathe out softly, trying to calm both males in the room. “I need the guardians list. Now.”

“Yeah– okay!” He is moving as quick as possible and soon enough you find what you need. 

Kim Yugyeom.

The number is scribbled next to his name and you are quick to dial it, barely letting him speak before interrupting. 

“Hello, this is Kim Yugy–“

“Yugyeom!” You call in relief. “I am so sorry to call you during work hours, but we had an accident and the nurse is not here and–“

“What happened?” H asks, and you hear some ruffling on the other side of the line. 

“One of the kids fell on his head,” You mumble quickly, ashamed of yourself even though you know that it’s not your fault. “He won’t stop crying. I’m really sorry to be calling you, but Minjae mentioned you’re a pediatrician and the nurse is not here.”

“I’ll be there in ten.”

He got there in seven, along with Jaemin’s mother. 

“What happened?” She asks rudely, looking at her crying son and then at you. Sighing, you pull her aside, allowing Yugyeom to rush to the crying kid. 

“We were painting and Jaemin tried to reach for something on a high shelf,” You start to explain, knowing that nothing you say will change the way that this mother is looking at you– it’s all your fault, her eyes say. “He didn’t call for me and instead decided to climb on a chair. The cabinet fell and I was able to stop it from falling on him, but he fell off the chair and seems to have hit his head on the floor…”

“And where were you while all of that happened?!” She shouts, finger pointing directly to your face. You understand the anger, she’s a mother after all, but the disrespect starts to get to you and you have to take a deep breath. 

“Ma’am,” You start calmly. “There are about fifteen kids in the classroom, and I try my best to watch over all of them, but it’s only me in there. I’m sorry that Jaemin got hurt, but I was helping other kids and–“

“You should’ve paid more attention to him!” She screams and at this point Chanyeol and Yugyeom are watching you two carefully. “He got hurt because of you!”

“Ma’am–“

“Is this what I pay this school for?!”

“You’re scaring your son.”

Everyone stops and looks at Yugyeom.

“Excuse me?” The mother mumbles, looking at her child as he hides behind the doctor’s legs.

“You are scaring your son,” Yugyeom repeats, voice soft yet serious. “You are deliberately disrespecting the woman he sees as authority in the classroom, and that he cherishes so much, and you are scaring him. I’ll have to ask you to control yourself.”

“And who the hell are you?!”

“Dr. Kim Yugyeom,” He offers her his card. “I know Ms. Y/N and she called me over to do an assessment of his condition. Your son is perfectly fine, ma’am, just scared. If it wasn’t for Ms. Y/N, however, I am not sure what could’ve happened.”

“Yu–“

“Now let me take a look at you,” He says, pulling you to his side and sitting you next to Jaemin. “I saw you flinching… please turn around and raise your shirt.”

“This is not appropriate in–“ You try to push him away but he’s bigger and stronger than you. 

“I am here as a doctor and you are my patient,” He whispers so that no one besides you can hear him. “Now please, a cabinet fell on your back. It must’ve hurt.”

“Is my teacher hurt, Doctor?” Jaemin asks grabbing your hand as you allow Yugyeom to slightly raise your shirt.

“She is, a little bit,” He probes your skin and you recoil in pain. “But she is a strong woman and she protected you.”

“She really did!” Jaemin says excitingly. “Ms. Y/N ran really fast, mommy! She didn’t let the things fall on me.”

“You have cuts and bruises all over your back,” Yugyeom says after cleaning the injuries with rubbing alcohol. “What the hell was on that cabinet?”

“Books, paint, and other stuff,” You wince once again and only allow yourself to breath normally when he puts your shirt down. 

“You’ll be fine, but you need to clean this once a day,” He sighs, turning you around to look at him. “Do you have anyone to help you?”

You hesitate, but end up nodding.

“Just in case your lying,” Yugyeom offers you his card and you take it. “You can call me. I promise I don’t bite.”

“But I might…” You whisper to yourself as he leaves, putting the card in your back pocket. 

                                                        ——————————————

You don’t hear from or see Kim Yugyeom for the next week or so. Cleaning your back with the disinfectant is probably the hardest part of your day, but you manage. You keep working, if your back is constantly hurting when you pick kids up or when they accidentally hit you as they run by; you refused to stop because of a stupid injury. 

It’s Friday and you just got home, and only after a steaming shower that you realize two things: you are craving ramen and you don’t have any at home. You quickly put on some shoes and make your way to the market nearby your apartment, walking slowly as you enjoy the cold air and the beautiful snow. You’ve always loved the winter and how comfortable the nights turned once it is cold; people are out on the street, huddled together, laughing as they enjoy warm snacks by the river. You smile sadly, overwhelmed with a sense of loneliness above everything else, and you enter the market. 

“Ramen, ramen, ramen…” You mumble to yourself, trying to find the right isle to turn into. 

“It’s the next isle,” Someone says from behind you and you quickly turn around, finding yourself face to face with Yugyeom carrying Minjae on his shoulders. “Hi.”

“Hello,” You say, amused with the view. “Here for ramen too?”

“Yeah, Minjae has been wanting some all day so…” He shrugs and the little girl giggles as she bounces on his shoulder. 

“Hi Ms. Y/N!” She shouts and you wave. “Uncle Yugyeom, can I have some strawberry milk?”

“We can go get it after you chose your ramen,” Yugyeom says and smiles at you, nodding at the selection with his chin. “Which one for you?”

You laugh and chooses the jjajangmyeon flavor, already giddy with excitement to get home and eat this with some snacks. 

“Good choice, good choice,” Yugyeom muses, a smirk playing on his lips. “But predictable.”

“Oh really?” You ask, squinting at him. His playful demeanor makes you join his antics. “What would you recommend then, Doctor?”

“Ah,” He looks up at Minjae and they do a weird exchange of glances, and they both look at you. “We all know nuclear ramen is much better.”

“My insides will melt if I eat nuclear ramen,” You gasp. “I can barely eat spicy tteokbokki!”

“Weak,” Minjae says, nodding to herself. 

“Hey!” You say, laughing at the four-year-old. 

“Uncle Mark told me that all the other uncles are weak because they can’t handle spicy food,” She explains. “And Uncle Mark is never wrong. That’s why he’s my favorite.”

“I thought I was your favorite?” Yugyeom gasps, removing her from his shoulders and carrying her in his lap. 

Minjae shake her head. “It’s Uncle Mark.”

“That’s gotta hurt,” You mumble, eyes wide in surprise with how daring your student is. “Really.”

“But I love you, too,” She says, patting his head and wiggling to be put down. “I’ll go get the milk!”

“Yah!” Yugyeom shouts, still in shock. “I cannot believe this!”

“Honestly,” You sigh, patting his shoulder in an understanding manner. “Me neither. She talks about you so much that I definitely thought you were the favorite…”

He nods, and looks at the hand on his shoulder, bitting his lip. 

“She talks about you, too, you know?”

You take a step back, retrieving the hand. “She does?”

“Oh yeah,” He laughs, and you love his laugh– it’s loud and vivid. “We all know about the pretty teacher.”

“The pretty teacher?” You echo, laughing incredulously. “Is that my official title?”

“Of course,” The two of you walk through the isles, looking for Minjae, and you see the way he looks at you sideways, hiding a smile. “It fits you.”

“I see,” You blush, looking down. “You fit your title, too.”

“And what’s that?”

“The big baby,” You giggle and walk ahead as you hear him gasping. “Let’s go, we need to find the small baby.”

“Yah!”

You leave, giggling like a teenager. The rest of what was supposed to be a quick trip to the market is surprisingly fun. You learn that Minjae is staying with Uncle Yugyeom for the weekend because it’s her parent’s wedding anniversary; you also learn that Yugyeom is putty in her hands, doing everything and anything that the child wants. What surprised you, though, is finding out that he is the youngest in his friend group, barely a year older than you– you thought he was way older than you, being a stablished doctor and all. 

“I just focused,” He says when you asked him how he managed. “The rest just kind of fell in place…”

“Daddy says Uncle Yugyeom is really alone, and that is why he has so much time to take care of other people,” Minjae tries to whisper it to you, but he heard it. You know he did; his eyes are fixed on the ground, a sad smile forming on his lips. “He has the biggest heart, according to daddy. As big as him!”

You don’t know what to say to that, not really knowing how to make this situation less awkward for the man standing right next to you. He sighs and motions to the cashier.

“Let’s go, Minjae,” He mumbles, and something about him is different– gone. “Say goodbye to Ms. Y/N, we have to go home.”

“Or,” You say quickly, before you have time to convince yourself that this is a really bad idea. “You could be less alone and make me less alone by coming over and having ramen with me.”

His brows shoot up, mouth agape. “W-what?”

“You and Minjae!” You clarify, blushing wildly. “Not just you– I’d never! I’m not… I just meant you and Minjae. Company. For dinner. Tonight.”

“Can we?” Minjae jumps around her uncle, excited. “Pretty please, Uncle Yugyeom, can we go?”

“Are you sure?” He mumbles, still red from the previous misunderstanding. “We don’t want to impose.”

“She said you are lonely,” You say pointing to the kid. “And to be honest, so am I… It’ll be fun, I promise I don’t bite.”

He smiles. “Alright then. Let’s go pay.”

It’s a fight trying to pay for your own food once Yugyeom sets his mind on paying for you. We’re already eating at your place, is his argument. The least I can do is pay for the food. You roll your eyes and let him, but you promise to pay next time.

“Next time?” He mumbles, avoiding Minjae hearing him. “I like the sound of that…”

“The sound of what?” Minjae asks from behind you two and you grab the groceries and walk ahead, trying to escape the responsibility of having to explain to the little girl what ‘flirting’ is.

“Of seeing the pretty teacher again,” Yugyeom winks at the kid. 

Minjae looks at you and then back at Yugyeom. 

“You like my uncle?” 

You choke on air. 

“You like my teacher?”

“Yes.”

“Stop egging her on!” You hiss, slapping his shoulder. 

“Then are you guys going to be like mommy and daddy?”

“Married?” You ask, still recovering from your shock. 

“No,” Minjae shakes her head. “In love.”

And sometimes, like right now, you really think you’ve been lied to and that Minjae is actually a genius. 

“I’m down,” Yugyeom says, picking her up. 

“Seriously?” You joke, guiding them to your apartment. “I’m down?”

He groans. “At least I told her something.”

You two bicker all the way back, joking and laughing together. The night is, overall, a success. Minjae had a great time and you and Yugyeom managed to get to know each other better; but everything has an end and soon you are saying goodbye. Laughing softly, you open the door for a tired Yugyeom and a sleeping Minjae, kissing him in the cheek before he leaves.

“Thanks for today,” You smile. “It was really fun.”

“Are you free next week?” The question is quick and airy and you laugh, knowing just how nervous he is.

“I am, why?” You tease. “I was wondering if you’d like to get some dinner?” He asks. “Just you and I. Not ramen. Real dinner.”

“I’d love to,” You nod. “I’ll text you, I have your number.”

“I have yours too,” He chuckles. “You called me, remember?”

It takes a while, you two not managing to stop talking, but he leaves and you drag yourself to bed, sleeping peacefully and dreaming about the family you’ve never had– one that eats ramen on a cold Friday night sitting on the kitchen floor and playing children’s games. 

                                                        ——————————————

One week is nothing. One week is nothing. One week is nothing. You repeat your mantra as many times as necessary to convince yourself that you are not anxious, not at all, nope. But the weekend feels like a week and the week feels like a month, and when Friday finally comes again, you even feel older. He doesn’t text you in the morning like he did on the other days, but it’s okay, you’ll see each other later. It’s with that mentality that you go through school hours, Minjae being delivered by her mom and picked up by her dad.

“Oh, good to see you again, Mr. Choi,” You smile at him, even though by now you are feeling dejected and confused. You’ve had no life signal from Yugyeom whatsoever, and you wonder if the date is still happening. 

“That sounds like a lie,” Youngjae points out. “Hoping someone else would pick her up?”

“I don’t know what–“

“Yugyeom told me,” He laughs, looking at you. “I think you two will work out pretty well, to be honest. He needs someone kind and caring in his life.”

“How do you know if I’m kind and caring?” You ask, looking at him suspiciously.

“A little birdie told me,” He points at his daughter as she packs her bag. “She adores you, and apparently, the night you guys had at your apartment was ‘the best night of her life.’ You raised the bar up for me and her mom, Y/N, I gotta say…”

You laugh. “I’m glad she enjoyed it.”

“Yeah, and so did Yugy,” Youngjae shrugs. “He’s been crazy busy today, so don’t feel bad if he has to reschedule. There was a really bad accident involving a middle school bus and they have him on call until everything is sorted out… He’s really sorry. He didn’t tell me anything, but I know my dongsaeng… he’s probably beating himself over the fact that he is too busy.”

“Ah, there’s no need for that,” You say, understanding the situation even though you feel a bit disappointed. “I understand how stressful it must be–“

“You know,” Youngjae looks at his watch and then at you again. “He’s probably going to work the night shift as well.”

“Oh,” You deflate. “That’s okay.”

“Which means he’ll probably skip dinner,” Youngjae continues, offering you a pointed look. 

“Oh.” You finally get it. “That’s not good.”

“It really isn’t,” Youngjae smiles and you laugh, impressed with the fakeness of his grin. “I’d go and bring him dinner, but I have to take care of Minjae tonight… oh, what will we do?”

“I guess I’ll just have to assume the responsibility,” You say, sighing in false defeat. 

“I guess you will.”

“Daddy!” Minjae runs to her father and jumps in his arms. “Bye-bye Ms. Y/N!”

“Bye Minjae!” You wave and then smile at her father. "Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

You have some time to kill before dinner time, so you walk back to your apartment, already thinking of all the things in your fridge and what could you try and make for the overworked doctor. In the end, you end up ordering from a nearby place, deciding it’s a better idea to give him something good that someone else cooked than the burnt food you tried to whip up. 

The hospital is nearby and the taxi take advantage over the fact that traffic is not horrible. You anxiously bounce your leg as the nurses tell you to wait since he’s in a surgery and will be back shortly. They smile warmly at you, noticing the food in your hands and the nervous look on your face.

“Dr. Kim will be really thankful,” One of them say. “It’s been a really bad day.”

“I’ve heard,” You nod, deep in thought. “I don’t want to intrude, though, so maybe it would be better to leave this here with you?”

“He’ll surely appreciate the company, ma’am,” She winks at you. “Dr. Kim tends to get really emotional with severe cases like this, and unlike his hyungs, there is never anyone waiting for him in his office after a hard surgery or a bad consultation.”

“Ah… he seems lonely,” You mutter to yourself.

“He is,” The nurse smiles. “And it’s really sad to see such a good person alone.”

“It really is,” You sigh. “Would it be possible for me to wait in his office?”

Looking at both ways in the hallway, the nurse motions for you to follow her.

“Don’t tell anyone I’m doing this,” She giggles. “But Yugyeom deserves to have someone waiting for him, too.”

“Are you two friends?” You smile, thankful for her.

“I’m his main nurse,” She nods. “We’ve been working together for a while… friendship is bound to happen.”

“I’m glad he has you looking after him,” And you really are; it makes you feel less worried knowing that his coworkers are supporting him. 

“I have to go,” She looks at her phone. “He’s out of surgery, so he’ll be here any time now. Enjoy your meal!”

You wait. And wait. And wait. And just when you feel like you might bolt and leave him a note, the door slams open, a frustrated Yugyeom entering the room with red, puffy eyes and disheveled hair. His blue scrubs is wet with sweat and he is sniffling, hand furiously rubbing his eyes. 

“Oh my god, are you alright?” You shoot out of your chair and run to him, hands grabbing his and pulling them down next to his body. “Are you crying?”

Yugyeom blinks a couple of times and then looks at the food, and then back at you.

“Y/N?” Even his voice is gruff and used. “What are you doing here?”

“I–I heard about the accident,” You gulp, suddenly in the spotlight. “And I thought you’d skip dinner… so I brought you some.”

“I’m so sorry,” He sighs and his shoulders drop in disappointment. “I completely forgot to text you; it’s just been hectic today and I–“

“It’s okay!” You say a little too loud and he flinched. “It’s completely okay, just… just tell me, are you okay? You look like you’ve been crying.”

“Me?” He goes around his table, sitting down and opening a drawer. He pulls his phone, looking at himself in the camera. “Oh. No. I mean, yes, I’m okay; no, I haven’t been crying. I just didn’t have time to take my allergy medication and it started acting up in the middle of a surgery, so this is why I look like this. Sorry.”

“Nothing to apologize for,” You smile relieved. “Hungry?”

His eyes are trained on you as you start pulling out the food, and before you can sit down he grabs your wrist, hands pulling you to him. One of his arms goes around your waist, holding you close, and the other holds your hand, and you only feel his tension once he rests his forehead on your stomach, your body frozen in between his open legs. Yugyeom sighs, and deposits your hand on his head, silently asking for scratches, like kids sometimes do. 

“Starving,” He mumbles. “But exhausted.”

“You need to eat,” You say softly, not wanting to ruin the intimate atmosphere in the room. “And then I’ll leave and you can nap.”

“Stay,” He yawns. “If you don’t mind, stay. I’ve been super excited for our date and now I just feel like shit that I couldn’t make it.”

“Says who?” You chuckle, pulling away and ignoring his whines. You sit in front of him. “This looks like a date to me.”

“You deserve better,” He’s so serious that you move a little, uncomfortable with the weight on your shoulders. “A lot better.”

“But I want this,” You giggle. “A take-out dinner with the big baby.”

“Must you refer to me that why?” He asks dramatically. 

“Yes,” You say and pushes some noodles in his direction. “Now eat.”

You don’t remember falling asleep in his tiny couch, but you will never forget waking up squished in his arms. 

                                                        ——————————————

I owe you a proper date. Let me take you out tomorrow.

Today is the tomorrow Yugyeom talked about and yet, nothing from him. You didn’t really expect much, but you expected something. You understand that his job is urgent and demanding, but so is Youngjae’s and he manages to balance social and work life. Because you don’t work during the weekends, it’s pretty much just you and Netflix today, and with the selfish anger that bubbles inside, you decide that Criminal Minds is just the right amount of violence for you. The torrential rain outside makes it so that you have the perfect mood for a chill Netflix night, even if that’s not what you wanted to begin with. 

Don’t be an idiot, Y/N, you think to yourself, walking to the kitchen to make some popcorn. You want something that no one can give you. 

As you make enough food for one, in your apartment big enough for one, you wonder just how much longer will you yearn for something that might not even exist. The Perfect Family is something that you’ve always wanted, ever since you were in middle school and your mom left; ever since you were in high school and your dad died; ever since you got to college and truly were completely alone. You had few friends, but you weren’t close enough to any of them to count on them when things got tough. But you always had the kids; you used to volunteer at a pre-school nearby and even when they’re small, kids are incredibly perceptive. They give love without expecting anything in return, and you love that. You love it so much you decided to become a pre-school teacher. 

The TV is playing but you can’t seem to process anything that’s happening, eyes focused on your phone in hopes of… what? A sign of life? A rejection? An excuse? Even you didn’t know. 

“Ah,” You sigh, pushing your hair back. “Forget it, Y/N, forget it.”

And then, right as you finally give up for good, your phone rings. 

Kim Yugyeom.

You scramble to pick up, not really caring about petty vengeance and making him wait. 

“Hello?” You sound airy and worried. 

“Y/N?” He calls, and you can hear the rain outside. “Thank god you picked up– can you open the door for me? I’m outside your building and there’s a code and it’s raining so hard.”

“You’re here?!” You shriek, running to the door, forgetting all about shoes, and running the three floors down the stairs, only to come face to face with a soaking wet Yugyeom. “Holy shit!”

He laughs, loudly, and waves through the glass door. You let him in, quickly pushing him to the stairs again, deciding it’s the fastest way, and into your apartment, where you shove him in the bathroom and gives him towels and your largest sweatpants and t-shirt. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” He chuckles, wet hands on your shoulder. “Calm down… I’m okay. It’s alright.”

“You’re going to get sick!” You frown. “Get out of those clothes, they are all– why are you wearing a suit?”

You finally notice everything you didn’t see before. His hands, pale white and shaking, but firmly holding onto what you assumed used to be a really beautiful flower bouquet, now only having a few flowers left; you notice his formal wear, his beautiful black suit and blue shirt; and you notice his smile, sad and embarrassed, eyes looking at you carefully.

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” He laughs humorlessly. “I even let everyone in the hospital know that I’d be busy and they are to call the other doctors in case of emergency… but I wasn’t counting on getting caught in the rain on my way over. These are all ruined, now, I’m sorry.”

He gives you the flowers and you cover your mouth, trying to hide your shock.  

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Yugyeom sighs. “I seem to keep messing up when I’m with you. When I’m with you I feel like a child and I guess I just keep embarrassing myself further…”

“Well, you are the big baby,” You joke, looking at him whine and stomp his feet on the ground. “Thank you. For these. I doesn’t matter that they are all wet, or that you are all wet– what counts is the thought, and you had me in your mind all this time. Thank you.”

“That’s such a childlike response,” He mumbles, surely not for you to hear, but you do nonetheless. 

“Oh, really, Mr. I Feel Like A Child Next To You?” You squint. 

“That was supposed to be romantic!” 

“Stop whining and go take a shower,” You roll your eyes, sniffling a laugh. “I’ll go get something, but I’ll be right back.”

You run to and from the market, your umbrella barely holding on against the heavy rain. When you get back in your apartment, Yugyeom is sitting on the couch; the pants are too short and the t-shirt is too big, and you can’t help but giggle, thinking that he really does look like a kid. 

“Where did you go?” He follows you to the kitchen and you don’t answer, choosing to simply show him the packages of ramen, wiggling your brows. “Ah, you’re the best, Y/N!”

“Thank you, thank you.”

Cooking is fun; Yugyeom is right behind you, his front glued to your back and you are flustered– so flustered that you almost drop the boiling water all over yourself. After a worried lecture from Doctor Kim about being careful, he assumes the position of main chef and finishes making the simple ramen. As he is putting everything in the bowl, you decided to just fuck it and you allow yourself to circle his waist with your arms, hugging him to you. 

“Yah,” He says softly, putting both his hands over yours. “I need to finish here.”

“Just give me a minute,” You mumble, hiding your face in his back even though he can’t see you. “I’m happy.”

You feel him turn around. “Me too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” He smiles, grabbing your face and pulling it closer to his. “I like you.”

“I like you, too,” You giggle, blushing furiously. “Oh my god, we’re such children.”

“Makes sense,” He snorts. “We both spend all of our days with kids.”

“But we’re adults,” Your argue, getting on your tippy toes. 

“Thank god for that,” He smiles. “Now come here.”

He kisses you chastely, and you start to wonder just how innocent Yugyeom really is; but those thoughts soon vanish. He pulls you closer and that’s when he starts really kissing you; hie height overpowering you, body leaning over yours to get closer, as if that was possible. You are not sure how long you two make out for, but when you finally pull away, needing a pause to breath, the noodles are crumbling from how soggy they turned. 

“No!” You shout, pushing him away and moving to the food. “Our dinner…”

“We can order in,” He mumbles, pulling you back to him. “Now come back here.”

“Control yourself,” You look at him, avoiding his puckered lips. “You fooled me… you’re no child, you’re a horny teenager.”

“Are you serious?” He rests his head on top of yours, giving up and just hugging you. “You looked like you were enjoying it a lot, you know jus–”

You slap a hand over his mouth. “Stop it!”

“You’re so cute,” He pinches your cheeks. “Getting embarrassed with things like that!”

“You say as if you don’t get embarrassed,” You poke his nose and walk to the living room. “What should we order?”

“Sweet and sour pork?” He suggests, sitting next to you, and you nod excitingly. 

The rest of the night is a mix of kissing and talking. You learn all about Yugyeom hyungs and how close they all are, and in return, you tell him all about you; family, friends, past, present, and hopeful future. He nods and caresses your hand as you talk, and when you two fall asleep, once again in the couch, you feel happy and content. You feel safe.

                                                        ——————————————

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” You say, grabbing his hand and not letting him get out of the car.

“What do you mean?” He questions, smiling. “It’s the best idea.”

“Yugyeom, what if they hate me?” You whisper, looking at your boyfriend with wide eyes.

“… what?” He bursts out laughing. 

“I’m serious! What if they hate me? What if Minjae doesn’t like it? What if the other kids bully me?” You ramble on. 

“Y/N, these are just my friends,” He says, bringing your hand to his lips and giving it a kiss. “You don’t have to be nervous. They’ll love you. I mean, Youngjae and his wife already do.”

“Oh my god, oh my god, I’m so nervous,” You mumble to yourself, following him out of the car and inside the house.

“They’re here!”

You barely see her, but when Minjae jumps on you, you are ready to catch her instinctively. 

“Hi Ms. Y/N!” She shouts, arms around your neck.

“Hi, sweetie,” You smile, feeling yourself calm down. 

“I missed you!”

“We saw each other this morning,” You chuckle.

“Yeah, but now we can see each other more because you and Uncle Yugyeom are like mommy and daddy!” She says and you remember her previous words. “Can you sleep over? Can you babysit me? Can we play?”

She wiggles to be put down and grabs your hand, leading you through the house and introducing you to everyone. That’s Uncle Jaebeom and his wife, and that’s daddy and mommy, and that’s Uncle Bambam and his girlfriend, and that’s Uncle Jackson– his girlfriend couldn’t come because she is punching people.

“She’s a professional MMA fighter, Minjae-ah,” Jackson explains with a smile. “Not a gangster.”

“And this,” She tugs you to a tall man sitting next to a beautiful woman. “Is Uncle Mark! He’s my favorite, but I can share with you and he can be your favorite, too!”

“YAH!” 

You all look at Yugyeom, face red and frowning. 

“I’m her favorite!” He pouts. 

“Uncle Yugyeom,” Minjae sighs. “You’re such a big baby.”

They start to bicker and you smile, watching your boyfriend debating with a four-year-old, and thinking that you might have just found what you always wanted. 

This could be my family.

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

and this is the end of the general hospital series! I have to say, it’s a little bittersweet, but I’m sure I’ll come up with something even better for a next possible series ❤️ thank you to all of you who were with me on this journey >.< love you all and as always, let me know what you think! It means a lot!

[hidden-otaku-stuff]

Tendou, Iwaizumi, and Ushijima comforting a mute reader

Another comfort ask ft. a mute reader

tw: mentions of a toxic family / bullying

Hi @cosmicmermaid25​ I am so sorry that this took a few days. I don’t have personal experiences with being mute so I really hope that I wrote this right. if not, please don’t hesitate to let me know and i’ll fix it ASAP!

I hope that you don’t mind that I wrote these in the form of hcs.

****

Word count: 1.1k

TENDOU

⭐ So, as we all know, Tendou is a bit...unusual

⭐ It’s not uncommon for him to notice people and get a good reading on them quickly

⭐ Within the first five minutes of seeing you in his class, he had most of your body language clues down

⭐ And when he found out that you were mute?

⭐ The man went out of his way to become your friend

⭐ He didn’t really pity you, but he definitely empathized with you about being outsiders in society

⭐ That being said, he’ll treat you as normally as you’d like - of course with special considerations on how you communicate with one another

⭐ But generally, he learned by your reactions how you felt on certain occasions and so he would easily be able to communicate for you if you wanted him to

⭐ Unfortunately, society is horrible

⭐ In this case, it was a substitute teacher who kept calling on you and picking on you for not verbally responding

⭐ It got to the point where Tendou stood up in the middle of the class, berated the teacher, took your hand, grabbed your stuff, and dragged you out of the classroom to his dorm

⭐ You were squeezing his hand, another form of secret communication between the two of you

⭐ Two squeezes. Thank you. 

⭐ “You don’t have to thank me, darling. That sub shouldn’t be allowed to teach.”

⭐ Four squeezes. I appreciate you

⭐ “Oh baby, I appreciate you so much”

⭐ As soon as you entered his dorm, he turned around and scooped you into his arms

⭐ “You mean the absolute world to me, princess,” he muttered, burying his face into the crook of your neck

⭐ Tendou leaned back, peppering kisses all over your face

⭐ “You deserve only the best things, and I promise, I’ll never let anyone belittle you again”

⭐ The corner of your lip twitched as you met his eyes. ‘Promise?’ Your teasing smile said

⭐ “I promise baby”

⭐ He squeezed you flush against his chest. “Let’s watch something, yeah? We’re already ditching class anyways”

IWAIZUMI

⭐ You and Iwaizumi have been dating for a few years now, having met after being paired for a group project

⭐ Iwaizumi had been ridiculously patient when it came to working with you, showing the softer side that most people weren’t allowed to see

⭐ It didn’t take him long to fall for you and vice versa

⭐ One night, you just showed up at Iwaizumi’s door, knocking on it softly

⭐ The man had just finished dinner, brows furrowed as he opened the door

⭐ “(Name)?” he asked, eyes widening as you collapse into his arms. “What happened?”

⭐ You shook your head, squeezing his waist to let him know that you just wanted to be held

⭐ “I got you baby, don’t worry”

⭐ Iwaizumi takes you to the couch, plopping down and placing you delicately onto his lap

⭐ You lean onto his shoulder, signing to him what had happened

⭐ Your parents had forced you to go visit their friends, and their friends had tried really hard to communicate with you

⭐ And when I say tried, I mean they didn’t

⭐ They would see you sign, and make up random interpretations of what you were signing to them

⭐ You had even repetitively shook your head and signed slower so that they could make sense of it, but they just laughed in your face causing you to feel ashamed

⭐ Your parents hadn’t really been better in this scenario

⭐ When you tried to tell them, they just told you to be quiet and if people were having trouble understanding you, you should figure out some other way to communicate

⭐ So, you decided to storm out of the restaurant and walk the ten blocks or so to Iwaizumi’s house

⭐ “Baby, I would’ve picked you up if you told me,” Iwaizumi mumbled, rubbing your back as he carefully listened to your tale

⭐ His eyes were soft as he pressed a kiss to your forehead

⭐ “If your parents are gonna be assholes about it, you’re more than welcome to stay here, ok?” he grabs your hands, squeezing

⭐ “You don’t deserve to be treated like this. You deserve to be around people who understand you and make an effort to understand you”

⭐ You nod sadly. Initially, your parents had actively tried but they were always different around their friends or the rest of your family members

⭐ “C’mon, let’s get you changed for bed, yeah?” Iwaizumi asked, lifting you up bridal style to carry you to the bathroom

⭐ “We’ll figure everything out in the morning”

⭐ Nuzzling into his shoulder once more, you just breathe in his comforting scent

USHIJIMA

⭐ Ok, Ushijima? He’s not the most vocal person either

⭐ He grew up separated from other kids so he isn’t that well-socialised

⭐ That being said, Toshi comes off as more blunt and cynical when it comes to verbal communication

⭐ He also struggles with reading body language because of this gap

⭐ So when it comes to having a mute partner, it becomes a whole other level of complications

⭐ He’s patient though - he really tries to take the time to learn sign language - if that’s your preference

⭐ Ushijima even asks Tendou for tips on how to read your body language better in order to truly understand you

⭐ The last thing he wants is to misunderstand his partner

⭐ The man even sprung for a tablet so that you could easily write out your thoughts/messages without worrying about running out of paper and pencils

⭐ (He was even thoughtful enough to include a portable charger)

⭐ But when it comes down to your peers, you aren’t as lucky

⭐ In this case, you were put into a group project and it ended up with everyone ignoring you because they didn’t want to take the time to listen to your input

⭐ Never mind that you’re one of the smartest students in the class

⭐ SO, after sitting there quietly for over an hour and being ignored, you sent an email to your teacher detailing what had happened with a request to transfer to a new group or do the project solo and then dipped to Ushijima’s room

⭐ The man had just finished his post-practice shower and was sitting at his desk working on his own homework when you knocked

⭐ “Something’s wrong.” He said as soon as he opened the door

⭐ You nod, immediately burying your face into his chest

⭐ He wraps his arms around you, carrying you into his dorm, laying down and placing you on top of his chest

⭐ Ushijima soothingly rubs your back as your body shakes

⭐ He laid there quietly, letting your tears run its course - only squeezing you harder when your body started shaking a little bit harder here and there 

AN: Again, I hope that I did an okay job with this. Please let me know if I inaccurately portrayed anything 

[rennybu]

Since you're one of my favourite artists I was wondering if you had any advice on art block? Each time I sit down to draw I just stare at my tablet screen and feel completely blank on any ideas even though I want to make something. Everything I've started on I start to either hate or feel like anything I do with it just looks horrible and I dont know how to get over this feeling I've been stuck in for months. I was wondering if you had any tips for getting out of this kind of thing :') thanks in advance and I hope you have a great day

sorry about the wait on answering this!!! art block is a tricky thing to deal with even when you think you have a handle on it.. i had to sit and think for this LOL. these r some things i try to keep in mind, and a bit about how i think of creating in general!

i think to start with, try to make a habit of keeping everything you make. put it in a drawer or folder instead of the trash or deleting it. sometimes when i have that itch to create but have no ideas, i’ll go into my “junk” folder and pick out an old sketch that wasn’t as bad as i thought it was when i first started it in the thick of an art block. Or, months will have passed and I can see now where the mistakes are, and just that fresh perspective is a boost to get me working on it.

another thing that helps me out of art blocks, specifically the gross kind where i hate my own process and don’t like looking at my work, is to start a drawing with zero intention of posting it anywhere, and use a completely different tool or brush than I would usually use. Just let yourself doodle, a body part you think is pretty, random shapes, a pet, a character from memory, keeping it super simple and fast just to move your hand.

re-drawing game or movie screenshots is good practice and can also be a good idea substitute when your brain isn’t giving you much to work with!!

ultimately uhh. sitting with yourself and reflecting on what you want out of drawing, what qualities you enjoy from other people’s art that you judge or are harsh about in your own, could be really helpful overall to just lighten that pressure of “oh god this looks nothing like how i want it to”.. no one has your same eyes or technique, and mistakes you see will be invisible to other people, or will be sources of interest or appeal to other people.

if art block really has a vicious hold on you, its okay to take a break from creating. i have notes of art pieces i haven’t started yet because i don’t feel “ready” to, skill-wise, but i don’t want to forget the ideas. taking breaks is Allowed, there will always be pencils and paper to pick up again later!!! try to look at and critique your work as if it were someone else’s (HARDER THAN IT SOUNDSKLDFJ), ALWAYS with encouragement and help in mind. Don’t tear your work apart, don’t tell yourself things that you would never inflict on someone else - this goes in line with my first point, limiting how much of your work you delete or throw out.

there will always be creative low points... its ok to hold hands with it and let yourself rest. sometimes trying to brute force through it will only burn you out