#to wrap things up neatly. and have the results of their actions Make Sense when neccessary

[aroaceacacia]

"in dream smp things have consequences" WHERE DID THE DREAMONS GO !!!!!!

everyone jokes about the dsmp having ridiculous lore while hermitcraft is a lot more tame even though you can make statements like "the mayor of the nearby shopping center, who is also a wizard and ceo/founder of major drilling/rocket company ScarX, is waging war against mushrooms" and have them be completely factual

[karmelek-writes]

comfort zone I part 3

Harrison Osterfield x fem!reader, Tom Holland x fem!reader

Synopsis: What do you do when you love them but want someone else?

Word count: 4,5k

Warnings: angst, swearing, suggestive comments, mentions of sex, smut, adult themes

A/N: Hey guys! This is part three of the "comfort zone". I wanted to thank you all again for supporting me and commenting, reblogging, and liking the series! Also, sorry for the delay. The next part will come out on Friday, as usual. Let me know what you think of this part! (sorry for any mistakes, English is not my native language plus this part wasn't proofreaded)

Love, W 🖤

When you entered Tom's bedroom you immediately felt your tensed body softening as the smell of Tom intoxicated your senses. There wasn't another place on this earth you felt more comfortable in than his room. It wasn't big but the cream-painted walls and huge mirror in the middle made it seem vaster. There wasn't much furniture, just all the necessities, but you had to admit that Tom had been keeping his room clean and fresh. It was typical, yet lego Death Star set and spiderman figures arranged neatly on a bedside table screamed Tom. You kept teasing him about this but in reality, you found it endearing. The souvenirs he brought home from the places he had visited were dusting on the shelf, reminding him of good old days having fun on set and hanging out with the cast after work. What always got your attention was his cartoon figure leaning on the wall next to his bed. He got it for his birthday after landing the role of spiderman as a joke from Harrison, his brothers, and you. Even when Tom was younger everyone knew he was born to act. His family and friends would tease him about it calling him a movie star which always made him fuss around. When he finally made it to Hollywood, you all knew what you had to do. You told him that you all had a surprise purposely hyping it up. Judging by his reaction you expected him to throw it out but he kept it. At times Tom was a nerd but it made you like him even more because despite becoming a literal movie star, he never stopped being this little cute boy who still slept in spiderman pj's he was gifted on his 19th birthday.

The cartoon figure was what you were looking at when Tom cleared his throat and locked the door. The action made you turn around to glance at him with confusion written all over your face. His focused gaze and sudden shift of behaviour confirmed your suspicion that it was going to be a serious conversation.

"So… Are we going to talk about what happened?" Tom's nervous voice rang in your ears making your heart rate speed up. You knew that was the moment you had to confront him about your feelings. “Because for the last couple of days I’ve been thinking about everything. I would hate to leave like that.”

“I know,” you sighed mentally preparing yourself to recite the speech you’ve created in your mind in advance. “Look, ever since I met you I feel like my life has gotten better. I never thought I would have such an amazing person in my life,” in the corner of your eye you saw Tom smiling excitedly at your compliment. His honey-brown eyes were sparkling and you had to stop yourself from hugging him and running your hand through his messy curls. “What happened between us was sudden and I’ve said it already, I don’t regret it. Actually, I’m quite happy with how things turned out,” you chucked at the end hoping it would relieve the stress and hesitation in your voice. Your words were all that brunette needed to confirm that you wanted him as much as he wanted you. In the room illuminated by the moonlight, Tom’s silhouette moved closer to you. Having approached you, he touched your exposed arm and traced his fingers up so gently as if he was scared he would break you if he pushed harder. His hand on your body caused shivers to appear and a slight flush crept into your cheeks. You hated and loved the contact silently hoping he would give you more. It seemed like your thoughts were heard as Tom slowly but confidently started to walk you backwards until you fell on his unmade bed. He leaned as close as he could, placing both arms on the sides of your head making it impossible for you to escape.

"I don't want to leave you here," he fussed, highly aware that the next few weeks were going to be hell without you lulling him to sleep, inquisitively going on and on about your day. Resisting the urge to pout you tried to overcome the feeling of sadness slowly accumulating in your chest.

"And I don't want you to leave," a deep sigh escaped your lips, pushing back the thought of him flying away the following day. "But we are here now, so what are you going to do about it?" you extended your arm to grasp Tom's messy curls, daring him to cross the boundary unconsciously set up the moment you've become friends to dive in the pleasure. Tom didn't give you a verbal answer, but knowing that actions speak louder than words, he lowered himself to place a soft kiss on the crook of your neck. The cracked lips caused a wave of shivers to run down your spine, your stomach dropping as you felt sudden wetness between your legs. Mixed with the wet marks left by Tom's tongue, the sensation made your eyes shut, spots emerging in front of them. All your senses were keen, escalating the intensity of the experience.

Tom was determined to work you up as he unhurriedly worshiped your body. A deep moan followed by a throaty “fuck” were the sounds at which you opened your eyes. Your longing stare met Tom’s one and you could swear right then, right there you had never seen a more mesmerising sight. Brunette’s once soft strands now had stuck to his forehead glistening from the sweat. His usually pale cheeks were now painted deep pink - a result of his unholy thoughts combined with the sight of your perfectly shaped body. Eyes dark with desire, hungry to capture every inch of your figure. You noticed beads of sweat dripping on your already wet chest, your shirt clinging to your torso enhancing curves you’d work so hard on at the gym. Lifting yourself on your elbows you signed to Tom to help you strip. You weren’t a self-conscious person, nor were you hesitant to show your figure, but you didn’t like to preen yourself on it. However, you felt the rush of confidence wash over as you caught Tom lustful ogling and wanted to take control of the situation. Shifting from underneath you poked Tom’s chest and pushed him to lay down. Foggy mind and the burn you’d felt on the skin still were dislimning your senses causing you to clumsily collapse at the top of Tom in your attempt to straddle him. Silent ouchs followed by a breathy laugh falling from the boy’s lips made your heart clunch in embarrassment. Much to your surprise, he kissed you as if he wanted to assure you that he didn’t find your awkwardness unnerving. In the few seconds of your make-out session, you recomposed yourself and broke the kiss wanting more as the throbbing between your legs became unbearable.

In the heat of a moment, you took off your bra leaving your breasts exposed for Tom to admire. You didn’t miss how his pupils dilated and his mouth went dry just by gaping at you. This fueled up your nerve leaving no place for doubt and hesitation in your mind. Shamelessly, you rocked your hips against his own at a slow pace. Grunts and scratchy moans could be heard, falling from Tom’s lips like prayers begging for your pleasure. With his eyes shut and fists clenched, he couldn’t look more beautiful, more vulnerable, falling into pieces for you. Finding pleasure in the position and the power you hold over him, you let yourself get lost in the bliss of his hard cock sliding through your folds, the tip teasing your sensitive clit in a steady motion. Wrapping his arm around your waist, Tom lifted himself until he was on an eye level with your chest, his mouth immediately clinging to your breasts, tongue swirling around your hardened nipple. Slowing down your pace, you cupped Tom's face and connected your lips in an aggressive kiss, teeth brushing and tongues intertwined. Fighting for dominance, Tom flipped you so that he was on top. Groaning, you brought him impossibly close leaving no space between your sweaty and hot bodies. Tom's little whimpers were more often now that he was thrusting into your hips, trying to bring himself closer to the limit. Knowing you couldn't last much longer you moved your hand to slip it into your undergarment only for Tom to stop you to do it himself. He licked his fingertips and shoved it into your panties, rubbing your clit in circles.

“That’s okay, cum for me baby,” Tom muttered, trying hard to catch his breath. Completely lost in the moment, you obeyed his command and let go of the tight knot that formed in your stomach. The sensation of Tom’s body pressing against you and his fingers playing with the heart of your femininity caused you to almost black out, starts appearing in front of your eyes. Letting out a pornographic moan, you tried to arch your back gripping the sheets so hard your skin turned white. You couldn’t tell for how long you were wiggling under your best friend’s body but it felt like hours until you were able to get back to reality.

Coming down from your high you took notice of a wet stain on Tom’s trousers. You opened your mouth to say something but he cut you off offering you some fresh clothes and a glass of water. Not thinking much, you accepted his little acts of care and walked past him to change in the bathroom.

Having closed the door, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and tried to calm your racing heart. While you were getting dressed Tom was silently freaking out. He could’t believe that you went this far. It still felt like a dream to him. At that moment he hated his lifestyle, he hated his profession that required him to fly away the following morning, splitting you up in the worst time. Maybe he could convince you to go with him? No, it was crazy. You had your life here, it wouldn’t be fair to take it away.

Tom’s running thoughts were cut off by the click of the door followed by your silhouette emerging from the room with a small smile. Tom returned the gesture and nodded at the bed, silently asking if you wanted to lay down with him. Getting back on the soft mattres, you let out a sigh contemplating if you should bring up your feelings. Truthfully speaking, you didn’t know how to act and it seemed like so did Tom. He sat down at the foot of the bed, facing away from you. He was scratching the nape of his neck - a habit that always betrayed his nervosity. He then suddenly stopped and it seemed like he came to terms with himself as he turned around to look at you with tears threatening to fall from his eyes and imperceptibly bleeding lip. He had to bite it to prevent it from trembling but the pressure was hard enough to rip the fragile skin of an organ. You couldn’t read anything from the look on his face and it scared you. Not thinking much you embraced him from behind placing your forehead against the side of his face. You wanted him to feel you, to detect that you were there for him.

“I-I don’t want to l-leave,” a broken stutter left his lips, repeating the words he had used before.

“I know, but people expect you to go,” you whispered to him, slowly rocking you two from side to side to the sound of the clock tickling and driving cars coming from outside the window.

“Tell me something that will make me stay,” his words echoed in the quiet room, so desperate and calling for help. Not thinking much you blurred out the first thing that came to your mind.

“I think I’m falling in love with you and that scares me but I don’t want you to go either,” before you got a chance to register your confession, Tom wrenched himself away from you to see if you were serious. He definitely wasn’t in the mood for jokes so when he identified your stoned expression he knew you meant every single word. Suddenly, a way of regret and pity washed over him, not being sure how to tell you the truth without breaking your heart.

“I… That’s… Um…” he tried to initiate the conversation but his mind was so fogged from regret and miscomprehension.

“You don’t feel the same?” you more of stated with so much heartbreak in your voice it took everything in Tom not to lie and tell you he’s always loved you to fix his mistakes. He stopped himself from it because you deserved something better than that. On the spur of the moment, he cupped your face hoping it would help him get to you easier.

“I love you, I really do but…” he couldn’t finish the sentence. It would kill him to watch your face fall with disappointment and sorrow, let down by the only guy who promised to cherish you forever.

“You don’t have to say anything more. I understand,” pushing Tom away from you, you got up making your way to the door wishing to get away from him as soon as possible. You were hurt beyond your expectations. All of the little moments you shared, the kiss, tonight, it meant nothing. You were livid at yourself, you didn’t know for what more - being so stupid to believe that he could ever love you or that he would ever want you for something more than just an easy fuck. Fueled by the sudden anger you turned to Tom with disgust painted all over your face. “Was I just a girl you wanted to try for a day and dump? Was I just good fun for you? Did you have fun playing with me?”

“God, no! I didn’t mean it to happen! I just did and I’m sorry, okay? Just please sit down and let me explain,” you were extremely angry but you needed answers so you stayed in your place, waiting for Tom to continue. “I tried so hard to love you. It just never felt right like there was something missing and I-I don’t k-know what it is but that doesn’t mean that I don’t care about you. I do love you, can’t you see that?” you didn’t reply for a few seconds and Tom started to get nervous. “Please, say something.”

“Can you try again?” you asked in a small voice. You kept your arms around yourself feeling uncomfortable out of the blue, your black socks suddenly becoming amusing sight to look at.

“Can I try what again?” confusion was evident in Tom’s tone. He knew he was losing you and he needed to do everything to keep you by his side.

“Try to love me.” silence filled the room as you asked the unfortunate question hoping for the answer you already knew you couldn’t get. But it was worth trying, wasn’t it?

“I’m sorry but I don’t think I can,” the words were hard for Tom to get out, a lump forming in his throat.

“Okay,” was all you muttered and at that moment Tom realised he fucked up. “I should go already, it’s late and you have to catch an early plane so…” you trailed hoping that he will get a hint.

“Please, wait!” he ran up to you as you were to exit his bedroom to wrap his arms around you in one last hug before he would leave. “I will keep calling every day, I don’t care if you don’t pick up or block my number. I will always try to get to you. You’re my oxygen, I need you,” if you were in a different situation Tom’s deep sobs would make your heart ache and feel sorry for him, rushing to lighten up his mood but now you didn’t have any of those thoughts. You just felt numb at his praying, a strange feeling settling in your stomach feeling his touch.

“Please, don’t become a stranger,” Was Tom selfish? Yes, but desperate situations require desperate attempts.

Freeing yourself from the brunette's tight embrace, you looked him in the eye for the last time and left the room wishing him good luck at his new job. He didn’t try and call for you, nor did he run after you. He stared at you silently tiptoeing downstairs avoiding contact with other people. You needed to talk about everything like adults but he knew you needed time and he was willing to give you that. He just wished he wasn’t leaving.

================================================

“Okay so… do you think we have all the stuff we need?” Harrison looked at you, having put your bag in the backseat.

“Yeah, granted that you didn’t forget to bring your big ego” you tried to joke and lift the mood but you knew it didn’t work when Harrison made a face at you. Since your not-so-nice exchange with Tom, you haven’t been in a pleasant mood. You knew that what he did wasn’t cool, but that didn’t stop you from missing him. You took off your phone, glancing at it for the twentieth time in the past thirty minutes only to see that you haven’t gotten any notifications. He said he would call. You felt stupid waiting for the guy who clearly didn’t want you and didn’t even bother to talk things out with you. You must have stared at your phone for a little too long because you heard Harrison clear his throat and saw him giving you a knowing look. You only rolled your eyes and put your phone back in your pocket.

“You can’t keep doing this, you know?” the blonde tried to take up a conversation with you. He knew something was up between you and Tom. He knew when you would stop smiling at him when he cracked jokes or when you stopped mentioning Tom in your conversations, or when he noticed Tom tensing at every mention of your name. He tried to get any pieces of information from his best friend but the brunette would always say that you were busy and that it wasn’t his business. Maybe it wasn’t Harrison’s place to be noisy but he had to admit that your careless aura was making him worry. Even when you were upset you acted more lively than now. He was aware that the matter was serious, he just didn’t know how to make it better… and he wanted to make it better for you.

During the last few weeks, your relationship progressed. Since Tom was constantly working, he didn’t have much time to call or text. And even if he did it seemed as if he wanted to spend it with other people. You couldn’t make out what went wrong in your relationship but you knew it was serious when Tom stopped making any effort. You’ve never seen him acting so indifferent towards you and it scared you. However, the lack of interaction between you two brought you closer to Harrison. You almost forgot how significant part of your life he was. Despite your sour mood, you enjoyed the time spent with him. He always made you laugh and feel needed. Your banter didn’t stop but it has changed into something softer and domestic. You found out that you didn’t mind it at all. Harrison still would do little things to drive you insane like casually tracing his fingers along your neck while putting a loose strain of your hair behind your ear or lowering his hand a bit too much than necessary while hugging you but it didn’t seem so unfamiliar and strange anymore. Talking to him almost daily, you learned to be more comfortable around him. To the point where you would hold his hand sometimes and stay over at his apartment after a long session of studying. That, however, didn’t mean that you couldn’t be playful. You knew that Harrison was as invested in your little game as you were. The rules may have changed a bit but it was still on. You had no idea what it meant for your friendship but it was too intoxicating to stop. Now that Tom was not there you could let yourself fully focus on it. You loved the feeling of uncertainty and on the other hand, you wanted to see how far you could push Harrison’s buttons. You were curious how much of it he could handle and if he would snap at some point. You couldn’t help yourself but subtly torture him with your slight touches during movie nights or walking around without a bra. You liked how worked up he always got. He would try to keep it together and act classy in front of you but eventually, you would catch him checking you out. In a way, it all felt wrong but all his attention was on you and you couldn’t help but feel good having this power over him.

When you got in the car you put on some music and looked outside the window. You didn’t want to talk to Harrison about your issues, especially not your issues with Tom so you tried to ignore his questions. Harrison, on the other hand, couldn’t find a way to make you open up to him. You two talked but he also wanted to support you when you weren’t feeling like you could handle things yourself. He remembered how Tom would complain about you being too secretive, even though you’ve known each other for years. That’s how he knew he would have to work hard for you to warm up to him. But that was the effort he wanted to put in. In the blonde’s eyes, you were the most intriguing person he has ever met. You two first came across in the cafe he worked at. You used to go there for some tea every day after classes during your first year. He’s been watching you for some time before trying to talk to you. One day his colleague dared him to get your number after he caught Harrison drooling over you during his break. So he gathered the courage and shot his shot. You two talked until the end of his break. He tried to get your number but you gave him your Instagram account instead. Soon you started to text each other and became really good friends. He would ask for your number a few more times but you always rejected him telling him to work for it. Harrison laughed to himself and shook his head. Even at the beginning of your friendship, you bossed him around.

“What’s so funny?” you asked, a bit confused by his sudden outburst.

“I just remembered how you used to reject me when we first met.” he turned to give you a small smile and started the engine.

“Oh yeah… You were desperate,” you smirked at him, knowing it would cause a good reaction and you weren’t wrong. Harrison gasped, abruptly turning to face you with fake hurt painted on his face.

“I wasn’t desperate! I just saw a pretty girl and wanted to take her out on a date but you were playing hard to get so you lost your chance,” he said it so casually you thought you didn’t hear him right.

“You evidently hadn’t worked hard enough,” you shrugged as if you didn’t care but in reality, your heart rate has sped up. You hoped that Harrison couldn’t hear your shallow breath. You never knew he wanted to take you out on a date and you didn’t know how you felt about it. The thought of him liking you more than just a friend brought butterflies in your stomach to life, making your whole body shiver. Maybe he wanted to take you on a date before. That doesn’t mean he’s still into you.

“So what should I do to get you to agree to go on a date with me?” the knot in your stomach tightened as his voice dropped down an octave. Was it possible he was still interested after all this time?

“I thought I lost my chance,” trying to keep it cool you exhaled softly hoping that the blonde didn’t notice how you squirmed lightly in your seat.

“Well… It depends,” he moved a little bit closer to you catching eye contact.

“On what?” you whispered gently trying not to raise your voice in fear that you would interrupt the moment.

Harrison’s voice matched yours as he whispered “How hard you can work after,” Noticing your disgusted look, he started to laugh deeply.

“Oh God, your jokes are so poor,” you shook your head at him, not finding his joke amusing.

“Oh come on, I know you’ve been dreaming about it,” he wiggled his eyebrows at you. Maybe, just maybe you have thought of it once or twice but you’d rather die than admit it to him. "Besides my jokes aren't half as bad as yours"

“Whatever, Osterfield,” you tried to turn around and fasten your seat belt not in the mood to argue but he stopped your actions again.

“Hey look... I want you to have fun today, okay?” his voice softened as he took your hand in his and started to caress your palm. “I know we joke a lot and stuff.. But I really want to give you something to remember, a memory you would always smile at when thinking of it… or when thinking of me,” he chuckled as if he thought he was never on your mind. Oh, how wrong was he. “Just forget about everything and enjoy the moment. Can you do that for me?” you thought you would melt under his gaze. He was looking at you so lovingly with a dazzling smile that couldn’t make you disagree with him. You felt like his ocean blue eyes were piercing your soul, taking your breath away. After a moment you realised that you could look into them for hours memorising the way his pupils dilated when he was looking at you.

“A-alright, I will.” you stuttered but still smiled at him and held eye contact. You didn’t know it was possible but his grin got even bigger causing you to do the same.

“Pinky promise?”

“Pinky promise,” he smiled at you for the last time and turned around to start driving. Harrison said he planned something special for you. You didn’t know what the evening was about to bring but you knew you were screwed.

Taglist: @osterfieldshollandgirl, @tom-holland-is-spiderman-archive, @harryhollandsgirlfriend, @peachyafshawn

[taetaespeaches]

“The strings are attached already.”

namjoon x reader (or oc) genre: angst word count: 1.8K

a/n: Alright lovelies, all of Daisy’s contradicting actions and words has resulted in a frustrated Joon and it all comes to a head here. Poor babies :( this takes place about a week after Daisy meets the members. Thanks for reading and I hope you all enjoy! :)) 

NO matter how many times you told yourself you had to start putting distance between yourself and Namjoon, you always ended up back in his apartment. In his bed. Curled up against his warm frame, his strong arms wrapped around you as he held you close.

His snoring filled the room, comically mixing with your heavy thoughts. Namjoon was in this with you. Passionately, wholeheartedly.

How long could you keep doing this to him? You couldn’t keep stringing him along. It wasn’t fair to him. The sun was usually peeking through the window at that time of morning, casting his exposed chest in a warm glow. However, that morning, the sun was hidden behind an overcast sky.

Observing the rise and fall of his chest that corresponded with the obnoxious snores that you found to be adorable, you felt your tired eyes prick with tears. I can’t do this anymore.

Sitting up, as gently as you could as to not disturb him, your eyes pointed toward his still sleeping frame resting against the mattress. Your gaze dragged over his toned but perfectly soft midriff, his strong frame, those shoulders that would carry the weight of all your problems if you let them, and his heck that provided the perfect fit for your face. Appreciating his facial features, you painted them to memory, not wanting to ever forget a single detail. You didn’t want to forget a single aspect of Namjoon.  

The alarm clock sounded suddenly, startling you as you looked toward his phone, watching as his hand blindly felt around for the device. Taking a deep breath to calm your emotions, Namjoon’s eyes fluttered open at the absence of your body pressed to his. When his puffy eyes met your own orbs, you quickly averted your gaze to the opposite side of the room, wiping the side of your face to rid your cheeks of the tears that had unknowingly fallen.

Observant as ever, Namjoon quickly sat up, placing a hand to your back as he tried to peer at your face. “What’s wrong?”

Me. Pushing the blankets off your legs, you shook your head. “Nothing, Joon,” you dismissed as you stood from the bed, quickly retrieving some clothes as Namjoon watched you in concern.

“Why are you crying?” He pressed. “What are you doing?” There was an edge of panic in his tone. The mood was off and he could sense it. And the tone in his voice furthered your belief that you needed to stop this. The man was living in constant uncertainty. It sounded as though he had been waiting for the phone call you didn’t answer, or the morning you got out of his bed and left, never coming back.

The truth was, you didn’t really intend not to return again. You knew you couldn’t stay away. You just knew something had to change. Maybe you needed to implement distance between the two of you so the extra feelings cold subside. These fucking feelings. They were real, and they were strong and sincere.

“It’s nothing,” you tried to assure him through your shaky voice. “I just need to head out, I have errands.”

“Ok, well, let me get ready real quick, I’ll walk you out,” he told you, rising from the bed as he watched you intently.

“No,” you shook your head as he pulled on some underwear, “that’s ok, you take your time.” Silently, he observed you as you hooked your bra, your back to him. He continued watching as you slid your jeans on, your head scanning the room. “Do you know where my shirt is?” You asked, turning around to face him, his expression nervous and worried.

“Uh,” he slowly realized he was staring at you. “I’m not sure,” he said as he glanced around the room. “You can wear one of mine.” The suggestion was sweet and you wanted nothing more than to accept the offer, but you couldn’t.

“That doesn’t change the fact that my shirt is missing somewhere in this room,” you pointed out, trying to avoid having to wrap your body in his scent because you knew you’d like that far too much.

Nodding slowly, he looked from the floor to his dresser and finally to you. “Right, well, if you would use the drawer I offered you then you could wear your own clothing until we find the missing shirt,” he told you, a bitter sadness finding its way into the words.

Staring at him, you choked back the sob that threatened to slip from your throat, blinking quickly to hold back any tears. You knew this frustration was within him, it was only a matter of time before it came out. Every bit of anger he threw your way was deserved, and you could take it. What you couldn’t handle was the sadness that was apparent in those same handsome features you studied so intentionally only a few minutes earlier.

That fucking drawer. The empty space serving as another symbol of your failure to commit. “Or we could just find my shirt,” you said quietly, though neither of you made a move to find the shirt or retrieve a new one.

Standing in his boxers, Namjoon ran a hand through his slept-on hair. “Why are you really leaving so early?” He was reaching a breaking point.

“I have things I need to get done,” you lied in defense, only to be met with a skeptical look.

“At 7 am?” He questioned, you sighing with a shrug. “Come on,” he threw his hands up before letting them hang down on his legs.

“What do you want me to say?” You asked him

“How about the truth?” He suggested in frustration. The truth. It was simple enough. I’m scared and I’m tired of hurting you.

Breaking eye contact with the man, you looked around the room again. “Where the fuck is my shirt?”

“Are you serious right now?” He asked in anger.

“What?” You asked dumbly.

“Why do you need to find the shirt right this second, are you not planning on coming back?” He asked, the man jutting his jaw out as his adam’s apple bobbed against his neck.

Holding back your own tears at the sight of him you exhaled slowly, the breath shaky as your bottom lip quivered. “I am,” you whispered.

“I need to know what’s happening,” he told you firmly, causing you to shrug at him. “God, you confuse me,” he admitted for the first time, your guilt stabbing your heart at the way his pain laced his tone. “And I like you so fucking much, but falling for you hurts because I don’t know if you’re with me in this.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice barely audible before you cleared your throat. “I didn’t plan on all of this,” you gestured between the both of you.

“I didn’t plan on this either but it’s happened, it’s- it’s happening,” he pointed out to you. “And I don’t want to let you go.” At his admission, his voice cracked just slightly, causing a sob to leave your lips.

“You don’t have to let me go,” you defended through your forming tears. “Why can’t we just do this without strings attached?”

“The strings are attached already,” he told you bluntly. “They have been from the start.” You knew he was right, but why was it still so hard for you to accept?

“I-” You shook your head, not sure what to say because you knew any negation of strings or feelings would be a lie, and he’d see through it immediately.

“Stop hiding behind this shield of feigned indifference,” he told you. “I know you care. We do all the things the other guys do with their girlfriends. You visit me in the studio, you sleep over, we’ve gone on dates, we text all day, you’re the first person I want to tell about my day-”

“Why does all of this matter?” You asked, fully aware of the idiocy you were putting on display.

“Well, what’s wrong with m- why won’t you let me call you mine?” The question had a sense of desperation to it. As if he trying to figure out what was holding you back from something that he knew would make him happy and believed would make you happy as well.

“Why does a label matter so much?” You asked the man, staring into his wide eyes from across the bed.

“I don’t know,” he said with a defeated shrug. “It just does. Or maybe it doesn’t, I don’t fucking know.”

“We have a good thing going, why ruin it?” You asked, Namjoon breaking eye contact with you as he directed his gaze toward the floor. You watched him carefully as he nodded to himself, walking to his closet to pull out a shirt.

With a sigh, you sat on the edge of the bed, your hand neatly tucked against your thighs as he got dressed for his day.

“Ruin?” He suddenly spoke, breaking the tense silence. “Being my girlfriend would ruin things?”

Shaking your head, you felt the tears gathering along your bottom lash line. “That’s not what I meant,” you breathed out shakily.

“I don’t know why a label matters,” he admitted honestly. “I just know that I like you a lot and I want only you, and I want to be together, and sometimes I think you want that too,” he paused for a moment, looking into the closet to avoid your gaze. “But you give me so many mixed signals and I’m confused and I’m tired of you holding yourself back from me,” he finished.

“Joon,” you spoke, not sure what to say. Your inner supposed logic reminding you that you’d just lose him eventually was conflicting with your heart, which was urging you to get up and wrap your arms around him and tell him how badly you wanted him too.

Fully dressed, he turned to look at you, eyes glistening as he shamelessly bared his emotions to you. He was showing you himself. Unfiltered and true.

And it was seeing the visible effects of his frustration and disappointment that pushed you over that edge that you’d been balancing on for the past couple months. You had to stop doing this to him.

Approaching you, he held out one of his t-shirts for you. “I like you. And I think I could love you,” he told you, and when you didn’t take the shirt, he set it on the bed next to you. “If you would just let me.”

Turning his back on you, he made his way to the bedroom door. “I have to get to work,” he said without looking at you. “If you want to do this with me, then please,” he started, his voice breaking, causing you to flinch as you stood, nearly taking a step toward him but freezing in place. “Please just- be here when I get back.”

As he moved through the door frame, he stalled, looking back at you to see you standing defeated in nothing but your jeans and a bra. “Stop lying to yourself.” And with that, he left the room, his footsteps leading him all the way to the front door where he left without another word.

[lighteyed]

this is a place where i don’t feel alone / jack kline

summary: jack and reader bonding after a hunt <3

word count: 1.7k

author’s note: i found this in my google docs and like... it was PRETTY cute and i didn’t want to let it waste away in my docs so here she is :) i want to post more and just write whatever i want for whoever i want and be happy on here. and i do love jack

Freshly showered after his first hunt, Jack wanders through your open bedroom door. His golden hair is messy like he’s never seen a brush before (which, to be fair, he most likely hasn’t) and his brown eyes are large in their curiosity. He hadn’t been in your room yet, despite living at the bunker for a couple weeks now. For the most part, he had no reason to go in there. And regardless, he was too nervous to even ask. You, however, were the only person in the entire building he felt completely at ease around, even more so than Castiel. The way you looked at him was reassuring. He never saw fear or apprehension when he met your gaze, just a desire to understand. A yearning for a friend. He’d heard your shower squeak to a stop, had waited a couple moments before trying to enter the room (learned that the hard way), and now here he was. Shy, awkward, but there.

 You placed the novel you were reading down on your bed when you noticed him, motioning for him to come further inside. “How you feeling after your first hunt, Jack? You okay?”

 He nodded, picking up all the little items scattered across your dresser. So new to everything, it was all unfamiliar. He touched a necklace lightly. “Yes, I think so. I didn’t realize there would be so much blood.”

 “Comes with the gig. You’ll get used to it.” If he sticks around that long. “Are you okay with using the shower now? Like the shampoo, the conditioner, body wash, the whole shebang?”

 “Yes! Thank you for making Dean show me how to do it, but I still don’t understand why you couldn’t, and Dean did not want to talk to me much during the process of showing me how to use the shampoo-”

  The cute furrowing of his brow as he fumbles around for an answer to his question makes you giggle. His inability to pick up on social cues was beginning to become incredibly endearing. “Yeah, well, it’s just different, and Dean probably just felt awkward ‘cause you know, you weren’t clothed.”

 “Oh, is that not okay?” Jack’s face scrunched up again.

 “Depends who you ask and what the situation is.” You patted the edge of your bed, gesturing for him to sit down with you. When he sat, it was stiff, hands folded neatly in his lap as he continued to gaze around your room. “But you got all the blood off okay? I know you heal quick and stuff but it was all in your hair and I don’t think Dean really drilled in the concept of a deep conditioning treatment.”

 “I think so,” he repeated, patting the top of his head. His hair was still damp and felt clean enough. You leaned forward to examine him, though, breathing in the scent of shampoo. It was kind of funny, the way he had a newborn baby look and feel to him. Even his scent was like a baby’s. It’s sweet, really. “I used the one in the pink bottle.”

 “My shampoo? I figured, you smell like flowers,” you grinned, leaning back against the headboards.

 He tilted his head, “Is that a good thing?”

 “Definitely,” you reassured. “Most boys don’t smell nearly half as good as you do right now. Your hair’s all messy, though. Do you know how to use a hairbrush?” You already knew the answer, standing up and grabbing yours from the dresser before making your back to the bed. “Sit here,” you motioned for him to move up closer to you, his back to your chest. Jack did so hesitantly, as he did most things involving you.

 “Dean didn’t teach me about a… hairbrush?” He relaxed a little at the gentleness of your hand smoothing out his hair, letting his shoulders slack.

 “Dean can barely remember a toothbrush, so much on his mind,” you say, lifting the brush and running it through Jack’s hair. There weren’t many tangles to sort through; his hair was cropped short, but it was thick enough where it needed a brushing here and there. It was nice hair. Everything about Jack was nice. He had nice hair, nice eyes, a nice smile whenever he was around you, and in general Jack was a sweetheart. You could never fathom Dean’s inability to give the kid a chance. He was never anything but kind. He didn’t even recognize Lucifer as his father. He viewed Castiel as his dad, and Castiel was the opposite of evil. He was practically harmless. And when Jack was here, half in your arms with his eyes drooping shut from the pleasantness of your soft caress, he was harmless, too.

 “This is very relaxing,” Jack tells you, breathing deeply as you continued. “Do you brush your hair out, too?”

 “Of course, but it’s not as relaxing to do it myself. Someone else brushing my hair is probably… I don’t know, calming. It’s the best.” One of the best feelings in the world really. Better than almost anything else, and something you missed dearly. A sigh fell from your lips, but you smoothed back his hair again anyway. “I think you’re all good now.” You expected for him to say his goodnights and leave the room, but he lingered. He had more questions. Mouthfuls of them.

 “Does anyone else brush your hair for you? Like you do for me?” He scoots up toward where you sat, shoulder to shoulder with you now.

 “Not for a long time. My mom used to, before I would go to school. Even when I got older, she’d wanna brush my hair for me. Said it calmed her down, helped her to stop thinking about how fast I was growing up.” You could almost see the gears whirring about in Jack’s mind, trying to figure out the story. Sam and Dean were your brothers, but you talked about your mother in a different way than they would talk about Mary.

 “But, Mary is alive, isn’t she-”

“Mary is great, but she isn’t my mom.” Jack waited patiently for you to continue, staring intently. “See, you’re half angel and you’re half regular human. Sam and Dean are just half my brothers. So, it’s kind of similar, except not really, but sort of… you get me?” Jack blinked twice, and you took that as a no. “Their mom is alive now, in 2018, but she died when Sammy was a baby and Dean was a little kid. Dean is twenty years older than me, and Sammy is sixteen years older than me, so their mom and dad had, like, no time to actually make me… uh together. Baby making is a different story, Jack, so don’t ask. Anyway, our dad, John, had me with a different woman a long time after Mary had passed away. We also have another brothers, and Dean says it’s because our dad can’t keep it in his pants, but I’ve never met him. Something about a cage. But yeah. We have the same dad, just different moms. And I don’t have my mom. So I’m totally out of luck with the whole parent thing.”

  You were sure Mary didn’t loathe you or anything, but you could tell it made her sad that she hadn’t been able to ever have her own real daughter, and that even though she’d been gone a long time when you had been conceived, you were still the result of John and someone else. It was understandable. You felt a bit nervous around her, too. Like you’d never be able to say the right thing or be the right kind of pseudo-daughter.

 “Where’s your mom? Why don’t you have her?”

 “She died, five years ago. Some demon’s sick way of getting all the Winchester siblings together again. I came back from school and she was just… dead. Sam and Dean were called in for the case and Cas told them who I was ‘cause I guess he could recognize it or something and now here I am.”

 “Do you miss her? I miss my mom all the time, and I never got to meet her.”

  “All the time, Jack. All the time.” He hadn’t meant to make you sad, but he felt it lingering in the air now. Your nose was scrunched slightly, your fists clenched and your eyes staring down at hands. “The day she died, that morning before I left for school, I wouldn’t let her brush my hair or even hug me goodbye. It was my first day of high school. I was fourteen.”

 Jack doesn’t know what’s come over him when he swipes his hand softly across your cheek, the tear smearing across your face. It’s so sweet and charming you almost wonder if maybe Dean had been teaching him how to flirt. “Thanks, Jack.”

 “I can- I can brush your hair, if you want.” He takes the brush, and you slide up between his legs and lean back against him. He runs it through your hair so very delicate in each of his movements you feel yourself flashing back to when it was you and your mother in your living room, always just the two of you no matter what, and you feel that same sense of peace wash over you as it had when you were a child. How could this boy, who provided serenity so quickly and completely, ever be anything but inherently good? It was impossible.

Jack was so content in his own actions, he didn’t realize you were already half asleep. Even breaths, relaxing into him, eyes fluttering closed. Before you can drift off, he says one final thing, “Our moms are probably in Heaven together. I think they would be friends. Best friends.”

 “Yeah? You think so? Even though God’s gone for good and it’s all kinda shitty up there?”

 “The best people go there. And our moms were the best.”

 He says it so confidently that you knock the brush from his hands as you turn around so suddenly to hug him, burying your face in his neck. “You’re so sweet, Jack. Thanks for everything,” you mumble against him. He hesitantly wraps his arms around you, and you smile so broadly you think it’s going to slip your face and your heart wide open.

 You are such a goner.

 And when you kiss him on the cheek before he leaves your room for his own, he blushes like a rose in the sunlight; he knows he’s kind of a goner, too.

[bokutosworld]

setsunai | oikawa tooru

setsunai. [noun, japanese]. a complicated sadness that painfully creeps through the heart. 

pairing: oikawa tooru x f!reader

wc: 2.5k words, established relationship, falling out, purely angst. (lil bit of fluff in the flashbacks which are italicized!)

summary: oikawa knows all good things come to an end, but the both of you are not yet ready, still holding on to that string that is keeping you together. 

--

no one really gets a warning when their relationship is on the edge of falling apart. like the first time you saw oikawa in the hallways of aoba johsai and got your breath taken away, you just woke up one day and knew.

it was the morning of his departure for the team's one-week training camp. still on the bed wrapped under the cozy covers, you heard rustling inside the room as he was opening drawers, taking clean clothes and packing them in his luggage. a scowl was on his face and he was scoffing as he rushed all over the place. you think his bad mood was possibly due to the fact that he woke up earlier than usual to go to the airport.

'what time will you be leaving on wednesday,' you ask him, voice devoid of any emotion, over dinner last week. now that he was a professional volleyball player, moments like this - seated together at the table and enjoying homecooked meals were rare - and though you were mostly used to spending not much time together, you couldn't help but get disheartened every time he told you he was leaving.

oikawa sighs, running a hand to smooth the creases on his forehead as he answers, 'fuck, i forgot about that.' he fishes his phone from his pockets and checks his schedule. 'our flight's at six-thirty in the morning.'

you nod in understanding and offer, 'want me to help pack your things in advance? how long will you be gone this time?' he seems to ease at your suggestion and reaches to bring your hands over his lips, 'i'd appreciate that a lot, babe. i'd also need you to wake me up too, wouldn't want miss it. it's only for a week, i'll be back before you know it.' he winks and you break out in comfortable laughter, something that you haven't done in a long while.

it was as if your adrenaline levels shot up as you scrambled to get up and assist oikawa. the clock read 4:25 am and you can feel his panic. seeing that he was still in his sleepwear, you moved to place your hand over his shoulder, 'go wash up and change your clothes. i'll finish here.' but he swatted you away, albeit rather harshly that your sleepiness left. he exhales and lowers his head before muttering an apology for his action and leaves you to take care of his things.

it only took 20 minutes for you to organize and gather all that he needs in the bag. you waited for him in the living room, sipping a cup of hot cocoa to calm your nerves before apologizing. mentally, you were kicking yourself for forgetting to arrange his belongings and you already knew that he was disappointed. heck he had every right to be mad at you now, but you know he was restraining himself.

when he emerges all prepped and ready to go, you stand and give his bag. his passport was in your hands, together with the tickets, just to make sure he won't lose them. oikawa grabs and places them on the pocket inside his coat and as you were about to say you were sorry, he turns and makes a beeline to the door. he walks out of the room, no goodbyes, no kisses, no see you laters. and you were struck with the scary thought if he would still return to your home.

'i miss you, tooru,' you cry out to him over the phone. oikawa laughs and mimics your voice, 'i miss you too, y/n.' he thinks that he has never been this in love before. sure, he had his fair share of flings but, as cliche as it would sound, he knows you were different. though you were a year his junior, you were the only one who gets him and was willing to standby his side - through sunshine and rainy days, through wins and losses, through sickness and health.

he remembers your nearing college graduation. 'i wish you could be here next week. i want you next to me when i receive my diploma,' he swears his heart drops at your confession. 'me too, y/n. i know how hard you've worked for that,' he smiles even though you cannot see it. the past four years of long distance relationship - oikawa being in argentina and you in japan - was definitely not easy. but somehow, it worked, thanks to the constant calls and messages sent. despite the time difference, oikawa made sure to be there for you when your thesis mates were giving you hell, to stay up with you when you were writing your papers or reviewing for exams.

'i mean it when i say that i couldn't have done it with you, tooru. you're my anchor and you've been keeping me steady in this rocky life,' you sweetly declared. 'just wait patiently, sweetheart. i'll be there before you know it.' you thought it was one of his jokes, words that he would say to put your worried mind at ease. so you were certainly not expecting to see him standing at the door of the auditorium, holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers, as you received your diploma on stage. as soon as the program ended, you ran up to him and oikawa braced himself for a hug. when you pulled away, oikawa immediately brought his hands to wipe your tears and said the one thing you've been waiting to hear, 'i'm home.'

you hear the door open, followed by heavy footsteps dragging its way to the living room. usually, his arrival would be accompanied by his declaration, 'y/n, i am home!', and you would drop whatever you were doing to welcome him with open arms. but today, the both of you were greeted by silence. oikawa knows you were probably working in the bedroom and as much as he missed you, he settles down on the couch and drifts off to sleep.

oikawa didn't like fights, he learned from his parents that one should never sleep on an argument which was how he found himself on your front gate and pressing the doorbell to your house. he was anxious, remembering the pained look on your face when he lashed out at you. he was well-aware that you were only looking out for him, so as soon as he said those hurtful words and saw you running away, he wanted nothing more than to fix what he has done.

'what are you doing here,' you said as soon as you opened the gate. 'go home, tooru, it's late and you shouldn't-.' oikawa pulls you to his chest, a tight hold keeping you from moving away. 'i'm sorry, babe. i don't know what took over me, but i wouldn't say those again, forgive me.' wrapping your hands around him, you release a breath you didn't know you were holding and say, 'okay.' you pull away and bring your hands to his face, squishing him and he pouts. 'i don't want you overworking yourself. you're already working hard enough, i just want to remind you to take it easy sometimes.' and as he looks deep into your eyes that night, he thinks about what he could have done in his past life to deserve someone like you.  

oikawa comes to his senses when he feels a warm blanket being put over him. opening his eyes, he catches glimpse of your shadow moving in the dark and reaches out to grab your hand. feeling his touch on yours, you crouch down beside the sofa and push away the hair that has fallen over his face. 'do you need anything,' you ask. he knows he should say something, an apology, an assurance that everything was okay. but if he was being honest, the past few months has been different. the shared home which has been his safe haven has been feeling less and less of an oasis to him. the relationship, he feels, to be something he was doing out of an obligation, of a years-long promise he couldn't dare break. so he keeps quiet and you return to work.

for weeks following that night, things have never been the same. breakfasts are shared in complete utter silence, car rides when he would drop you at the office have been filled with ambient music. no more cheeky texts and random funny images popping in your inbox at random times of the day. like a plane making its descent at its destination, it seems as if your relationship has reached its breaking point and the story that you thought would have a happily-ever-after has made a turn for the worse.

after work, you make a trip to the supermarket and grab ingredients for oikawa's favorite dish. you still held hope and want to try mending things before they become truly irreparable. but that evening, he went home late. he sees you sitting on the dining room drinking the half-empty bottle of wine, the table neatly arranged with plates with his favorite food at the center. 'have you eaten? i made this for you.'

his heart aches at the sight of you, sadness glossing over your eyes and the forced smile you were wearing. he's always felt grateful whenever you would cook, knowing that it wasn't your strong suit. he always treasured moments when he could enjoy your food, however right now, he feels anything but that. 'why are you still up? i texted you i'd be home late,' he mutters, immediately making his way to clear the table. 'you shouldn't have bothered to do this.' he takes the drink you were holding, 'and stop drinking too much.'

as soon as he finishes cleaning, he walks to the bedroom but what you say makes him stop in his tracks. 'can we talk?' his mind and heart races, already knowing what you wanted to discuss. but he wasn't ready and in your intoxicated state, he thought you couldn't handle the results of the conversation. 'tomorrow morning. you're drunk tonight, nothing good would come out of it.'

however, you follow him, wrapping your hands around his wrists to make him stop. 'you're not the person i know anymore,' he hears. slowly, oikawa turns around and he sees wet tears threatening to spill from your eyes. 'why haven't you been speaking to me, tooru. these days, i see you, i think about you, but you're not my person anymore.'

there was no going out of this now, oikawa thought. like waves breaking the shore, the ending was fast approaching and he wonders if there was any way to soften the blow. so he pulls you close to him. the both of you lost in the embrace as if you were savoring the last few moments of warmth together. no one speaks and oikawa is scared that if he does, he would just break you.

'tooru,' you were now weeping. 'say something, please.'

he doesn't know where to begin. he can't bring himself to say that time wasn't on your side, that his volleyball career was taking off and it was getting hard to see you anymore. after all, he thought that being busy was just a lame excuse since the two of you made it through high school and university. how can he phrase that he thought love was enough but lately, he had nothing left to give you anymore.

'is there another person?' you ask, but oikawa was quick to say no. he cups your face, thumbs grazing over your cheeks to erase the tears. 'there is no one else.' he presses his forehead to yours, eyes closing as he takes a deep breath, it's just... it's not the same anymore.'

he continues, 'you are the best thing to happen in my life, y/n. i could never betray you like that.' you look at him, eyes asking the question why. 'i got selfish. in the process of improving myself and focusing in my career, i lost sight of you. i haven't been able to take care of you, to give what you deserve, to give you the world.'

'and the worst part was that i saw this coming.' he moves to sit on the couch, face hidden in his hands. 'i knew one day i'd hurt you but i still kept you around. and i am sorry.' this time, you sit beside him, turning his body to face you, 'all those years, it was my decision to stay. so please, don't give up on us now.'

'are we really doing this? are we moving in together,' you were excited, standing in the middle of the empty condo and already imagining the many memories that you and oikawa would create and cherish. he sneaks in from behind, snuggling his face to your neck. 'hmm, we are doing this. but only for a while, when we become married, i'll buy us a house.' you hum in approval, 'with backyard and pool?' oikawa chuckles and pecks your cheek, 'yes, with backyard and pool.' he twirls you around and brings your faces closer, 'your wish is my command.' you smile and close the gap, putting your lips on his to mark the important day.

was this really the finish line? in the very apartment where you made promises and envisioned a future together, is this where seven years of happiness will end? that was the agonizing thought plaguing yours and oikawa's mind right now.

'we'll only end up hating each other if we continue this,' he speaks up after minutes of eerie silence and you couldn't help but laugh dryly. he always had a strong resolve and it was ripping you apart how there was nothing to be done to make him change his mind. so you stand up, knees almost giving way at the thought of leaving him, 'alright. i'll sleep over at my cousin's then.'

he looks up at you, gaze burning deep to your soul, 'no, i'll leave.' but you push him down and snap, 'oikawa tooru, stay. i'll go, i can't bear to spend the night here. it will only break me more.' oikawa sees you to the door, though you argued that there was no need for such gesture. 'i'll go here in the morning when you're at practice to get my stuff.'

'i'm really sorry, y/n.' you shush him, smiling a bit to hide the fact that your heart was currently shredding to pieces.

you try to lighten the mood, 'i really want to get away from you right now.' oikawa chuckles along with you. 'it hurts, tooru. but i'm glad we had the chance to be together. thank you for the memories you have given me. i will continue to wish for your success. make me proud.' and with one last kiss goodbye, you walk away, leaving a piece of you with him and you wonder if things can ever get better from here.

[themilky-way]

like water {din djarin}

gif credit: no-droids

pairing: the mandalorian/din djarin x fem!reader

summary: when the one person he cares about is threatened, he lets himself indulge in the aftermath of defending them. 

warnings: some violence in the beginning, choking (not in the fun way), depictions of scratches, punches, and minor abrasions; the reader is hurt basically. oh and mando’s gun bc yeah❤️umm that’s it i think? nothing too horrible tho but if this thing triggers you, please don’t read !!

author’s note: not to be conceited or anything (is that even the right word for it lol?) but im super proud of how this turned out! requests are open btw for anyone who wishes to submit anything (if unsure, just ask which fandoms)!

----------

cyar’ika-> darling, sweetheart

nothing in that exact moment had made much sense. one minute the most precious thing to ever exist to him was snatched away, and the next his hands were gripping the treasure beneath his holster. his knuckles were lily-white at this point, holding the gun as hard as his body would allow him to without crushing underneath him, and the urge to cock it made him visibly shake. he’d been given a command, and out of all the merciless men in the filthy galaxy, he needed to follow it, so his weapon of preference stayed where it needed to. 

the meager specks of emotion that still lived within him betrayed his prominent composure, the view in front of him blocked by the sudden glaze of his eyes. the small drops of saltwater puddled together in his now hazy orbs, holding on until it was nearly impossible to stay put and then rivered down his cheeks. the cause? well, you.

you were filling up the mandalorian’s line of vision, his eyes darting between you and the bounty that had gone wrong. an alienated hand was wrapped around your innocent throat, your feeble hands wrapped around its wrist in a dumb attempt to break free. the ground you were roaming on before appeared to be never ending, and in the same way, the darkened sky absorbed you whole. vertigo was now in full effect; any quick movement caused you to shut your eyes tightly and hope to the maker you’d get through it. it took a few seconds for you to regain your balance, a sharp pain pinging around your neck forcing you to find it. you half expected to be back on the mud again, to have the man you had spent the past year flying around with pulling you to safety. instead, you found din frozen in place, an instinctive action rooted in the steel handle of his pistol. he wasn’t moving, too scared to blink as if you’d disappear if he did. 

perhaps you were; someone like you seemed too good to be true. in all actuality, it may be that you were a fever dream, a celestial that had come down from the sanctity of your home to finally rescue him from his burdens. amidst his frantic glances, he reminisced every second he’d spent with you since your unforeseen arrival, and that somehow worked for him. the gears in his brain started to turn again, and with every ounce of his strength, he pounced on the quarry and did what he should’ve done the instant you were taken from him. anger took over his worry, the effects illustrating themselves in a collage of mitted fists and blood. the pistol residing on din’s waist was useless compared to his hits; the softened position of his jawbone was locked firmly as a result of his gritted teeth and he was going to need more than your delicate hand on his shoulders to ground his senses. 

the mandalorian never expected to succumb to anyone, nor to feel remotely joyful upon hearing someone’s laugh. the idea of kindling a relationship was ludicrous, utterly impossible if only he weren’t bound to the chains of his creed. oftentimes, he wondered if someone would one day traverse his path and make him question every moral he’d been taught. din had dismissed the thought, as any other member of his intricate society would have, but the wondrous insight depicting a different lifestyle always lingered faintly in his mind. 

today, the very same visions behind his recurrent insomnia framed themselves in a frail art piece. din’s focus laid directly ahead, the fingers navigating the center controls as tight as they’d been on his gun. his eyes deserved to rest, perhaps take in the splashes of color nature was offering him, but he landed them on the same lovely sculpture adorning his cockpit. 

you were seated in the chair adjacent from the pilot’s, with your knees closely tucked to your chest. one large scrape designed itself on your leg-a dull reminder of the ordeal you were involved in hours earlier-with flakes of arid blood protecting the wound. bouncing off the skin of your throat were shades of red and purple, now properly mixing into a deeper complexion that’d require you to hide it for some time. besides the scattered nicks living on your face, and the other couple dozen on your arms and legs, the outcome wasn’t as terrible as the one your attacker received. it was a rule of thumb to not mess with a mandalorian, much less with the pretty little lady clutching his arm as if it were second nature. the foolest of fools wouldn’t even have done such a foul thing, and this particular creature came to know the punishment for harming what wasn’t rightfully his. 

it truly amazed him; the way you seemed to be so unphased by a traumatic circumstance. the woman beside him-the same one who couldn’t sleep unless a window was open-had endured pain, and the marks on her skin proved themselves in jagged indications of it. through the darkened screen of his visor, din could make out your hands neatly intertwined around your folded knees, your chin simultaneously resting on top. you’d been as observant as you always were, hardly missing his actions as he navigated his newfound family to a safe stop. sure, you were unaware of the loving term he considered of you and the baby, but it didn’t hurt to keep it a secret, right?

“hey.” it came out more hoarse than he intended it to, but the emotion behind it flowed out nonetheless. “you okay?”

not really. i don’t feel good. it was easy to say exactly that, to speak the truth, but it was even easier to lie. for the sake of his own worry, at most. your eyes were still glued to his armor, taking in the rough outline of where you imagined his skin would be underneath, or moreso the abstract idea of feeling it with your hands. reflections of your yearning came and went like the mandalorian’s missions, almost impulsively at times, and the curious, teasing tilts his helmet would bid you only encouraged that craving. much like now; the black “T” of his expressionless face leaned to the side, asking you to earnestly respond. “mm, yeah. ‘m kinda tired, though,” you mumbled.

you threw him a lie and he caught it. “don’t lie to me.” din swiveled his chair to accordingly match the peripheral of yours, his elbows coming to rest on top of his beskar-clad legs. “can you look at me?” he inquired softly. then, his intent fell on the slow shift of your head and how it turned to face him, your cheek settling on your unscathed knee. a breath fell from his lips at the doting admiration swimming in your stare. “there she is,” he confirmed with an upward curl of his lips. “is there anything i can do?” it was sincere; a genuine concern to accompany his question. you hummed in response, fearful to accidentally voice the confessions you hid from him. you blinked once, twice, until his question became a plea. “please, cyar’ika.”

reasonably, you were too busy exploring the shape of his helmet, permitting your creative imagination to paint images of the man next to you; so when your ears perceived his sudden name of endearment, there was nothing amongst the stars that you could’ve possibly denied him from. “you’ve never called me that before,” you smiled, all big and brilliant. 

“i’ve wanted to,” the man replied. what resembled ages of pent up stress released with a few curated words. his muscles relaxed, something he never believed to be attainable given his vigorous profession. “god, i’ve wanted to.” 

he followed it with a humble laugh. a sound so familiar and warm, so genuine that it empowered your grin to spread higher. “by all means, keep saying it.” now it was your turn to nervously giggle, and him who embraced the noise with everything he could. a mutual infatuation, so wonderfully obvious, yet it was refused acknowledgment. “i think there is something you can do, though.” silence advised you to continue, “can i sleep with you tonight?” 

the misguided pieces of your minds’, maybe even your souls’, reattached themselves that very same night. as the both of you slept, hands, calloused and smooth, intimately merged against the cushions of the warrior’s bed. tender kisses planted to your forehead left electricity in their wake, and the dark ambiance of his dwelling favored the entanglement of your tired bodies. 

“i wish i could see you, din,” you sighed. the manner in which it was expressed, full of sleep and everything akin, urged him to lift your weightless wrist to his lips. 

“you’ll get to one day, cyar’ika. for now just let me hold you, yeah?”

[sulkybbarnes]

“I can’t help but think we just didn’t do right by you somehow. You won’t tell me who you are. Did we teach you shame? Did I teach you that? Cause it would break my heart if I had. Can’t you see what a good job God did here. Can’t you see how beautiful he made you?”  -Big Eden (2000)

Read on AO3

Eddie sits in his car for a long time, head bowed and his hands gripping at the steering wheel. If it weren’t for the tense shoulders and the white knuckled grip he might look as if he was praying. Maybe part of him is praying. For courage, for acceptance, for a lighter heart. Between him and all of that stands an ocean of turmoil and whirling thoughts.

Eddie isn’t exactly panicking, but he might be a few breaths away from it. For him, panic isn’t quickened breaths and swimming vision. It’s rigidity and a weight that sits heavily in his stomach. It’s fire spreading through his chest and into his limps, rendering him motionless, even when his brain races at the speed of light. Part of him wants to turn back, drive home, make dinner for his son, maybe call Buck to see if he’d join them. However, since Buck is part of the problem, that course of action might not be the wisest. 

Eddie sucks in a deep breath then let it out slowly. He isn’t afraid of his feelings for Buck any more than he was afraid to acknowledge his attraction to men. In his later years of life, after having a kid and a twice failed marriage, Eddie has become a pragmatic and introspective creature. Things just are to him. He takes them, examines them with care, then places them in place when he’s done looking at them. Sure, the process isn’t quite as clean or clinical as he makes it sound, but the end result of it is the same, no matter how long he dwells on an issue. 

So, yes, Eddie isn’t afraid of being attracted to men, part of him had always known that. Examined it, folded it neatly, and placed it on a shelf in his mind that he didn’t dust often. He isn’t afraid of his feelings for Buck. These are a steady, comforting thing that Eddie has grown accustomed to in the months since he first allowed himself to look at them. Something so good and true can’t be frightening, Eddie has decided a while ago and left it at that. 

What does frighten Eddie however is two things, and these two things seem to be intertwined together beyond any hope of Eddie untangling the mess of them. However he looks at them, Eddie cannot separate the two. Eddie needs to talk to Buck about his feelings for him, and he needs to tell his family about how he feels.. in general. About how he loves. About the way his heart beats. It isn’t a requirement, and he knows deep in his bones that he doesn’t owe any of them a declaration of his sexuality or who he is. But. This is a conversation over a decade in the making, and Eddie who is a father, a firefighter, and a goddamn adult refuses to cower for another month or year. 

And so, Eddie needs to tell Buck how he feels about him, and for him to do that, Eddie needs to tell his family that he’s bisexual. To have at least one person from his family to back him up when things inevitably go south with his parents after both revelations. Two things he needs to do, and they are tightly knotted in his mind. He could have told Buck first. Could have had whatever outcome that yielded to decide the next steps for him, but that’s not what this is about. Whether Buck takes or rejects him, Eddie needs to do this for himself. 

One person, Eddie repeats like a mantra. Just one person, Diaz.

Eddie lets out a final shuddering breath, releases his death grip on the steering wheel, and makes the short walk to his abuela’s house. 

He sends a silent prayer to the universe before he knocks.

----

No matter how old he is, the smell of his abuela’s house stays comforting. Eddie’s relationship with his parents was tumultuous at times as he grew up, his parents approval ebbing and flowing depending on what standards he failed to meet. They were never bad parents, but they weren’t big on comfort either. Theirs was a house of discipline throughout Eddie’s life, and so his grandmother’s house was a haven in comparison. One filled with his abuela’s warmth and her never ending quest to stuff him with comfort food.

Eddie could have gone to his sisters for this. He knows that would have made far more sense, with his sisters being younger and generally more open minded. He could have gone to his aunt too, who wielded a non-nonsense attitude and a keen eye for details and who probably already had an inkling about Eddie’s feelings for his best friend. Beyond his parents, his abuela might very well be the second hardest option, but possibly the most important one. Which is why he decided to start here. He curses his own decision making skills not for the first time today.

Whatever the outcome of this conversation is, he tells himself, it will be a hurdle he has cleared. One part of the knot unwinded. 

“Are you going to tell me what’s troubling you, Edmundo?” His grandmother sighs from where she sits on the couch across from him. “You’ve been too far inside your own head since you arrived. Tell me what’s wrong.”

To his horror, the gentle tone makes Eddie’s eyes sting. He taps against his knee twice and sits a steaming mug down, trying to figure out where to start.

“You’re right,” Eddie begins, “There’s something I want to talk to you about.” He looks at her for a long moment, waiting for her encouraging nod before he goes on. “I’ve been keeping something from you and everyone else for a long time. I thought it didn’t matter much. That it won’t hurt anyone if it stays hidden and I don’t act on it. But it’s hurting me, abuela. It’s been hurting me for a long time now, more than I ever thought possible.” 

Eddie wills his voice to stay steady but it must give him away, because his abuela moves to sit beside him. She reaches out and puts her hand on top of his, squeezing once.

“What is hurting you, Eddie? I never want anything to hurt you. Tell me.”

“There’s someone I have feelings for, someone I might be in love with,” The words tumbling out of order, without his permission. His abuela’s face clears, she smiles, and begins to speak but Eddie desperately shakes his head at her, so she keeps listening instead. “It’s not just that. It’s a man. The person I have feelings for is a man. That’s what I- it’s what I wanted to tell you.”

Eddie waits for a reprimand. He waits for shock or disgust or anger. It doesn’t come. 

Instead, several agonizing moments later, Isabel Diaz makes a wounded noise, followed by a deep sigh. She raises her hand to cup Eddie’s face and gently tugs until he’s looking at her. Eddie is ashamed to admit he almost flinches at the gesture.

“I see,” She says, her eyes watering. “It’s us who have been hurting you. Did we teach you shame? Is that what we did?” She questions.

Eddie doesn’t answer her. Where his eyes stung before, now there are tears gathering and spilling down his cheeks. Eddie doesn’t move to wipe them off. They have earned their release.

“You’re not angry?” Eddie asks instead.

“At you? No, never. At the rest of us? yes. I won’t lie, Eddie, I never expected this, but that’s on me not on you.” She sighs again, “I’m an old woman, heaven knows how much I’ve known and seen. Maybe.. maybe years ago I would have been less generous, and I don’t claim to understand it fully now, but I never want you to be ashamed of who you are. I never want you to hurt because of us.” 

Eddie feels his shoulders sagging with relief, a breath leaves him and it sounds wrenched and ragged despite his efforts at quelling. His grandmother pulls him down until his head rests against her shoulder, she wipes at the back of his head and murmurs comforting words in both English and Spanish. They set like that for long moments, Eddie feeling as if he can fully exhale for the first time in years, and his grandmother speaking softly with her arms wrapped around him.

“How long have you known? Does anyone else know?” She asks after a while.

Eddie pulls back and wipes at his face, smiling when he’s instantly offered some tissues and a now-cooling cup of coffee. 

“I’ve always known, I think, that I like both men and women. Since I was a kid. And, no, no one else knows. You’re the first person I’m telling,” He answers truthfully. He hadn’t even told Shannon about this. “I know they won’t be happy when it comes out. I just can’t hold it anymore.”

The “they” in question don’t need to be named. His abuela is as familiar with his parents’ set of beliefs as he is.

“Maybe not at first, but they’ll come around. People change with time, and your parents have good hearts.” His grandmother says with such conviction that he almost believes her. “And until then, you know your sisters will be on your side. Your Aunt Josephine too, and me.” 

“Thanks, abuela,” Eddie smiles at her gratefully and kisses her cheek. He feels dizzy with relief. Nothing that comes after this will be as difficult. 

“Now, tell me about that man of yours. Who is he?” His grandmother’s serious gaze lands on him, but her lips twitch with a smile. Eddie feels heat rushing to his face as if he’s twelve again and caught trying to sneak chocolates from the chocolate box.

“He’s not mine,” Eddie mumbles, and his abuela gives him a look that says and whose fault is that?. “We really don’t have to talk about this.” 

When that suggestion is met with a steely stare, Eddie falters then breaks, “His name is Buck? It’s Buck. From work. You’ve met Buck.”

Now his grandmother smiles, her eyes laughing at him. “Yes, I know who Buck is. I’ve only heard Chris rave about him and met him every other month for the past two years, Edmundo.”

Eddie brings a hand to rub at his eyes, now smiling too. 

“Why haven’t you told him then?” And before Eddie can answer, she adds, “Is that our doing too? That you’re afraid?”

“No, no, that’s not because of any of this,” Eddie answers, which is only half a lie. “We’re very close friends, abuela. You know how close, you just said it yourself. He’s so involved with Chris and our lives. I’m worried about what will happen if I tell him and it doesn’t work out between us. It’s why I haven’t told him yet.”

“You think he feels the same?”

“I think he does. I’m pretty sure of it,” Eddie confides, even though he has never said any of this aloud before, he has thought about it for months on end, “I’m not ashamed of how I feel, but I thought leaving it alone would be best. To protect what we already have.”

“Making that decision for him is cruel, and you are not a cruel man, Edmundo.” Abuela chastises, “You said you’re close? Then you should respect him enough to give him the choice.”

Eddie nods, eyes watering again. This conversation is so far out of the realm of what he expected that he feels the need to lie down, or cry, or both.

“I will,” Eddie promises, “I’ve been planning on it for a while. I just.. I needed to do this first.”

Oh, my heart, his grandmother murmurs as she cups his face again with gentle hands and draws him into a hug. Against her shoulder, Eddie lets out a breath of pure relief. 

------

Making that decision for him is cruel, and you are not a cruel man.

The words ring in Eddie’s ears for days after coming out to his abuela. He catches himself several times in the process of taking them out and looking at them. He never thought of his waiting as cruel to anyone but himself. His grandmother’s words sit heavy in his chest, making him vow to speak to Buck as soon as possible. 

Between their busy shifts and both of them having various family obligations, the chance to speak to Buck alone doesn’t present itself until nearly a week after Eddie’s conversation with his grandmother. 

They’re at Eddie’s house for the evening, having ended work a few hours ago. Chris fell asleep between them after dinner, about half an hour ago, and so Eddie carries him to his bedroom, kisses his forehead, and silently asks Chris to wish him luck as he heads back to the living room.

On the couch, Buck looks up at Eddie’s arrival and smiles. 

“You’re not kicking me out now that Chris is sleeping, are you?” Buck jokes, “Because I was really hoping for a beer.”

Buck gestures towards the table, where two beers sit waiting for them. It strikes Eddie then, just how comfortable Buck is in Eddie’s space, and how much Eddie likes it that way. He smiles and moves to sit next to Buck.

Eddie’s mind is swirling with ways to start the conversation he wants to have, when Buck beats him to it. 

“Will you tell me what’s bothering you?” Buck asks, his fingers toying with the neck of his bottle. “You’ve been off all week. Did something happen?”

Eddie looks at Buck for a couple of heartbeats. There’s no denying how beautiful he is, or how attractive Eddie finds him, but what catches his attention now is the ever present kindness in Buck’s eyes. Eddie has always envied Buck his openness and vulnerability. It was a kind of bravery that Eddie is only now starting to learn. Where Eddie is thoughtful and private with his emotions, Buck wears each one of his for the entire world to see. Eddie can’t help the bang of longing spreading through his chest, even as he sets out for his second scary conversation of the week.

“Yeah, something pretty important happened,” Eddie starts, placing the bottle back on the table and turning to look at Buck, who mirrors Eddie’s movement. “I told my abuela that there’s someone I have feelings for, and that this someone is a man.”

Buck blinks at Eddie in rapid succession, seemingly processing the information. His mouth hangs open for a moment before he frowns. “Shit, Eddie, why didn’t you say anything? That’s huge. How did it go? Are you okay?”

“I just came out to you,” Eddie states, because he needs to make sure that that part registered.

“Yeah, no, I noticed, but you also came out to your grandmother which sounds scarier,” Buck shoots back, his eyes filled with pure concern. Eddie badly wants to reach out and rub at the crease between his brows.

“Definitely scarier,” Eddie agrees and then grins, “But it went surprisingly well. Way better than expected. We even talked a bit about the guy.”

Buck’s expression clears into a bright smile, looking for all the world like sunshine in human form. His eyes are shimmering and he wipes at them with a laugh.

“Eddie, that’s great,” Buck punches his shoulder lightly, as if they’re still kids in highschool, and Eddie grins at the gesture, “That’s amazing, man. I’m really happy for you!”

“Thanks, Buck.” Eddie feels light as he says it, the combination of Buck’s blinding smile and him coming out to his best friend feeling heady and intoxicating. 

“And you’re alright?” Buck asks again, his hand nudging at Eddie’s knee then retreating. Eddie fights the urge to take Buck’s hand and place it back there, where his warmth seeped into Eddie’s skin.

“I’m all good. Just needed some time to process all of it. But I’m good now.” Eddie nods, “Feels like one of the hardest parts is over. My parents will be a different story, but I’m leaving that for later.”

“Yeah, I get that. Thank you for trusting me with this. Seriously.” Buck says gently, his tone gone soft. He’s obviously sincere with his words, but something flashes in his eyes akin to hurt. It catches Eddie by surprise as he tries to pinpoint what caused the expression. 

Buck chews on his lip for several seconds, painfully obvious in his distress, and then replaces the expression with a smile that is a mere flicker of the one he wore before. 

“So, do I get to meet this mystery man of yours?” Buck jokes, “Get him the best friend stamp of approval?”

And, oh. Right. Eddie came out to Buck, but he hasn’t told him how he feels about him yet. That Buck is the man in question. That Eddie’s heart has been his now for an embarrassingly long time. Long enough for the idea of Eddie loving anyone other than Buck to be laughable. Eddie’s heart aches with love for him so much, he feels his breath catching with it.

“Well, you’ll need to approve of it for sure,” Eddie says thoughtfully, “Just not in the way you’re thinking.”

Buck’s expression turns puzzled, but he still looks hurt, and Eddie could say more, he probably should say more, but instead he spares them both a long winded explanation and reaches for Buck instead. One of his hands rests against the back of Buck’s head, fingers brushing against his hair, while the other rests against Buck’s cheek. Eddie sees the exact moment realization dawns across Buck’s face, and in any other situation, he would laugh or tease Buck about it. Right now, his focus is solely on Buck’s parted lips. 

Eddie inches closer util their foreheads are nearly touching, but doesn’t close the space between them yet, needing a confirmation first. 

“Buck, can I kiss you?” Eddie asks, voice far steadier than he feels. Against his hands, Buck’s skin feels so warm and inviting. Buck’s blue eyes are fixed on Eddie’s and so Eddie sees the slow blink he does, accompanied by a genuine smile. The sun breaking through clouds.

“Yes,” Buck whispers, so close that his breath brushes against Eddie’s lips. “Yeah. Kiss me.”

And that is all the prompting Eddie needs before he leans in and finally -god, finally!- brushes his mouth against Buck’s.The first touch of their lips is chaste and innocent, a hello and oh there you are! of sorts, but then Eddie captures Buck’s lower lip and then they’re kissing for real. Eddie thinks distantly that he would never in all his life tire of this or take it for granted. His lips against Buck’s, his hand in Buck’s hair and stroking his cheek, being the one to hear the little noises Buck makes when the kiss deepens. Eddie takes all of it and holds it deep within his chest, letting it warm him from the inside out and settle him deeper into this newly found sense of comfort.

They pull back to catch their breath, and Eddie takes that for the opportunity of kissing the side of Buck’s mouth, then his cheek, and his mouth again where Buck is smiling again.

“So, I’ll take it you approve?” Eddie teases, startling a laugh out of Buck and earning himself another light bunch to the shoulder. 

“You’re a real jerk, you know that?” Buck’s voice is too fond to hold any heat, and he can’t seem to stop smiling. Eddie is suffering the same problem. “I don’t know how people can’t see it, but you’re such a jerk. You really had me worried there for a bit,” Buck tries to laugh it off, but the words are too honest for it to work. “Thought I’d lost you to some nameless guy coming in and sweeping you off your feet.”

“Nothing to worry about, bud,” Eddie’s heart aches again, this time for a different reason. If he needs to then Eddie will spend the rest of his life convincing Evan Buckley that he deserves to be loved, and that Eddie would never walk away from him. “No one else in here,” Eddie taps at his chest, “And I’m not going anywhere without you.” 

And that seems to be the exact right thing to say because Buck’s eyes shimmer even as he rolls them at Eddie with a put upon groan. “Okay, fine. Works for me, I guess.” 

Eddie laughs at that, relishing the answering grin it draws out of Buck. They’re about to start kissing again, lips a breath apart, when Buck jumps back with an expression of pure shock, his face beautifully flushed.

“Shit. Wait, wait,” Buck says with comically wide eyes, “You told your grandmother about me?” 

Eddie throws his head back and laughs until his sides hurt.

[prettycottonmouthlamia]

I'm not a huge fan of the "Kama is a trauma victim" interpretations, because I think it draws too many comparisons between her and Sakura. So let me kind of discuss why I feel that Sakura and Kama are different, and this should hopefully express why I don't like the fact that she is a Sakura face.

The first thing to discuss is actually the Beasts themselves. So far, the Beasts can be split rather neatly into two categories: one category are Beasts which are inherently Beasts, such as Primate Murder/Fou and Kiara. There's nothing that serves as a catalyst for them becoming Beasts, they simply are. The other category are Beasts who DO have a catalyst experience: this being Tiamat, Goetia, and Kama. (I don't know where to put Vitch here, simply because it seems like she could be a mixture of both and I'm waiting on LB6 to help clear things up in that regard. In addition, I'm also not including Doman in this list because I haven't seen a translated 5.5).

Tiamat's rejection by her creations and her subsequent destruction and banishment catalyzed her transformation into a Beast, Goetia's exposure to the vast evils of humanity catalyzed his transformation into a Beast, and Kama's incineration at the hands of Shiva catalyzed her transformation into a Beast. You could argue that all of these were traumatic experiences, but you probably wouldn't argue that the first two are trauma victims, and I think it is the same for Kama. Her trauma is a motivating factor behind her motivations in general, but it doesn't define her as a victim in the same way it did Sakura, who mainly suffered until she decided to fight back.

Fundamentally, I don't think that Sakura could ever become a Beast, even if she would become a threat to humanity (which is the case in Heaven's Feel). Sakura primarily lashed out at the people who hurt her, and was otherwise influenced by Angra Mainyu. Like Medusa, she's "fundamentally a good person, turned into a monster by the cruelness of fate". Kama isn't like that, especially when you consider the Mara aspects which F/GO doesn't seem to have a consistent way of writing which are either another side of Kama or...just Kama???

No really I wasn't joking that F/GO can't make up its mind.

ANYWAYS, the existence of Mara does make a difference. Kama/Mara is both the positive and negative aspects of love, so in a sense, unlike Sakura, Kama/Mara was already something of a monster or a demon i lasnherently. Sakura doesn't choose to try and end the world in HF (at least not to my knowledge, it's been like 8 years since I read F/SN, its a long VN man) while Kama does. This is part of why I never liked the Parvati / Kama Sakura dynamics: Sakura doesn't HAVE evil or good sides; Sakura is Sakura. Sakura, unlike Parvati, doesn't have an aspect to her that's destructive (like Kali, not that this is ever even remotely recognized in F/GO) and unlike Kama, doesn't have an aspect to her that's inherently evil (like Mara). Sakura also has an anchor in her life in Shirou, which helps her process her trauma in a way Kama doesn't.

Where Sakura's actions can be viewed as not inherently her own, that the influence of Angra Mainyu caused her to do things she never would, Kama's actions in Ooku are entirely her own. She is the one who willingly chose to become a Beast, who hated herself and her own role so much she wanted to destroy love amongst people, and those actions do have consequences. And likewise, Sakura was a character who DID have to capacity to heal on her own, thanks to the people around her who cared about her. Kama doesn't have that, and likely never would if it wasn't for Kiara being able to see into the depths of Kama's soul. While there will always be this outright tension between the two, Kiara DID see the value in her relationship with her Master, and if such a relationship ended up changing the way Kama felt and moved her away from being a Beast...well that probably helps Kiara too.

I'm not sure we'd be having this conversation if Kama wasn't a Sakura-face. The truth is, we don't know if the ending of Ooku was written by Minase, Nasu, or Minase and Nasu, although personally I lean towards the very last one. It does read a little harsh, and I don't like the way Parvati is written (by GOD girl you are DENSE), but I can kind of see what Nasu writing shines through. Ultimately, I think there is a limit to how much one's own personal experiences can justify their actions; being a Beast I do believe, in Nasu's eyes, does cross the line. There wasn't an ending to Nasu's story that wasn't ending with the defeat of Kama, and the end of all Beasts is that: defeat. Despite all of that, Nasu IS giving Kama a second chance, in a way he hasn't given Tiamat or Goetia or Fou (or maybe has on the last two, we'll never know because like Binding of Isaac: Repentance, LB6 isn't coming ou-...shit can't use that one).

To wrap up...Kama isn't Sakura. She never was, and we should probably take more time to view Kama as her own unique character, and looking at her actions a bit more objectively as a result. Also Nasu does have his bad moments writing women.

[hadestownmodern]

Fight (4/4)

If I post this on the wrong blog one more time I stg. Who let me have access to technology? WHO?

-Danielle

----

             “’Rydice?” He knocks a bit louder than intended, driven by the nerves that dance painfully along his skin. The complete lack of knowledge in this situation presents himself in a discomfort, a prickling sensation that clouds his thoughts as he waits intently for an answer. When none comes, he knocks even louder.

             “’Rydice, it’s me.” His voice cracks slightly on the last syllable, but he barely notices. There’s shuffling on the other side of the door, a voice quieted by distance. A small coming that sends a shock of relief through to his chest.

             “I have to go,” Orpheus speaks quickly through the phone, shreds of hope hitching themselves back to his voice. “She’s here, I have to go-I’ll call, I promise.”

             Before Persephone can answer he’s hung up the phone, stuck it in his back pocket with shaking hands. He can hear the clicking of locks, the slow sliding of metal against the doorframe, and then her face.

             Her face-she pokes through a crack in the door momentarily, as if checking to make sure that the voice she’d heard matched the person in front of her. Her eyes are substantially paler, darkened only by the baggage that weighs underneath. She seems smaller, yet so much more guarded in comparison. In the two days since he had seen her, it’s as if he’s met with a stranger. She looks him up and down through the slit in the door before pushing the door open, covering her eyes with her hands.

             Orpheus stands still for a moment, hands lingering awkwardly at his sides until he hears the shakiness in her breath, witnesses the immediate collapse of that guard she’d held onto so fiercely when she’d first opened the door. The sound of her sadness pushes his hesitation to the side, drives him to close the distance between them to wrap his arms around her completely, gently.

             “I’m sorry,” her chest is heaving with the difficulty of her breath, the relief and the sadness and the nerve of it all. It’s all she can say, the words stuck on a loop she can’t control, the words that should have replaced her running. She lets him cling to her, her face against his chest, one of his hands running soothingly along her hair. With each apology Orpheus longs to hold her tighter, longer, long enough to wash both of their tears away. His shirt is damp with her grief and his cheeks are raw from wiping his own tears with the rough backs of his hands.

             “Do you want to talk?” He waits until her breathing has slowed, her body has fit itself against him without shaking. She hiccups, sniffs and nods her head. Orpheus does not move from her side, keeps an arm wrapped around her as she turns to face her apartment.

             It’s a tiny studio, a shoebox stereotypical to the experience of living in a city. In one small room she’s fit a loveseat of scratched up leather, a rickety shelf with an amount of books that do not fit, a pile started on the floor next to it. There’s a small houseplant with browning leaves set in front of a tiny window, a valiant effort as he notices her view of the old brick of another building. The kitchen cabinets are hung haphazardly, as if by second thought. He can tell she’d tried to fix them by the way she’s kept them, one set of cabinet doors tied together with a craftily thought-out system of ribbon and neatly tied knots. In one corner of the shoebox space there’s a mattress on the floor-just a top sheet and an old quilt on top.

             There are memories; Eurydice sinking into his bed the first night with a sigh, the way she’d slept completely splayed out and wrapped tight in his blankets. She’d apologized so much, sat with that slight stiffness in her back and attempted to refuse the breakfast he’d made. The longer she stayed the more he noticed her little quirks; the way she kept a corner of his thick blankets between her fingers while they watched a movie, her texts of outpouring gratitude each time he hid a snack in her backpack or brough her a lunch. He remembers the way she spooked at the noises of the bar below at first, how she locked the door twice at night as if she didn’t trust herself. It had taken her so long to become fully acclimated to his space-their space. He’d thought the stiffness in her body and the hesitation in her actions had been a result of the wall she’d kept up, the wall he’d been trying to tap gently though.

             “I, uh…I wasn’t expecting company,” She attempts an awkward sort of humor as she bites her lip. “You can sit, you know. It’s not…it’s comfortable.” She gestures to the well-worn loveseat and he obliges, pulling her down and wrapping his arm around her shoulder. Her body responds to his touch with a sigh, a muscle memory, a craving that’s nearly tense in nature. It had only been two days, but the span of time without the comforting smell of his skin and the softness of his voice had felt like months. She’d wrapped herself in loneliness and accepted that the world was not made for her, laid in her own bed for a day as time passed around her without her own knowledge.

             She’d let herself shut down completely and still, Orpheus had come.

             “How’d you know where I live?” She has to ask the question on her mind, the one that had made her think that his knocking and calling her name had been nothing but her last thread of hope sewing itself into a hallucination.

             “Persephone told me.”

             “I’m sorry.”

             “You don’t have to say that anymore.” His finger reaches for her chin, gently tips it up so she can see the sincerity in his eyes. “I messed up too.”

             “You didn’t do anything, Orpheus. It was me. You were trying to help. You were excited. And Persephone was too. I just…it set something off in me, her offering money and clothes. People just…they used to do that to me all the time with this look in their eyes that…it was dehumanizing. Even as a kid I knew it. But I shouldn’t have reacted the way that I did. It’s not okay. I hurt you. You don’t have to be okay with that because you don’t deserve to be hurt.”

             He has never seen her so upset; that hint of anger runs in tandem with a tenderness, a passionate resolve that strikes him as the final word. She will not let him continue to think that this fight is his fault, that her leaving the store and staying away from him had anything to do with his helpfulness or his excitement. She will not let him believe that this is his fault, not when their relationship is still so new.

             With Orpheus beside her on the scratched up leather, listening to the sounds of doors slamming and her upstairs neighbors very clearly arguing again, Eurydice is caught between the life she’d grown accustomed to and the life she’d been trying to leave behind. She hadn’t told Orpheus about this place-once a source of absolute pride as she used her own keys on the door and paid her own bills each month. She hadn’t told him much of anything-just flashes of her past as they’d come, filtered bits of herself.

             There isn’t shame; she refuses to feel shame for what she’d been through, how she’d fought to get this little rundown shoebox. More than anything, Eurydice had wanted to believe that maybe the pieces of herself she’d grown to know-the pieces that so closely resembled her mother-would fade away as she left her past behind her. The decision wasn’t completely cognizant, rather a piece-by-piece display of fright. The intricately lain fabric of her life had been torn so many times that one sentence had sent her into a spiral of panic. Leaving had seemed like the only option.

             Eurydice braces herself with a deep breath. Orpheus is here. He sits and waits patiently. He’s come to talk-to let her cry. He hadn’t left her. He’d come to find her.

             “I’m going to start talking, and I need you to just listen. I need to tell you some things that might get hard to hear. You deserve to know more about me than what I’ve told you. I’m not looking for pity, and I’m not looking for you to save me because I’ve already saved myself. I just…my actions weren’t justified, but they didn’t come from you. You didn’t cause my running away, and I should have never done it.”

             “Okay,” Orpheus shifts in his seat, waiting. His mossy eyes are trained patiently on her, their color swimming with warmth-adoration. Eurydice finds an immediate sense of comfort here, in this space typically lacking the overwhelming sense of security she finds in him. His arm around her shoulder brings her strength, and she begins.

             It’s not something she’s done before, this rote recitation of her past. She’d run through the basics so many times that this deeper diving feels immensely intimate, more than shedding a few layers of clothing or sharing the password on her phone. Her gaze shifts between Orpheus and the wall as she talks, and she becomes acutely aware of the way he pulls her closer at the harder parts; and then they left me there-my dad told me I was too much like her-I chose to tell them everything that happened-I never thought I’d get out. There are memories she hadn’t accessed in a while, things she’d buried deep with the hope that they’d soon just become another part of her fabric, a fraying thread in her own tapestry. These are the things that bring Orpheus to tears, to kissing her hair-her forehead-her eyelids-with a hummingbird sort of delicacy mismatching the protection of his hold on her body, his hand on the space where their baby grows.

             It’s dark when Eurydice finishes-when her mouth has become dry from talking, crying, kissing him again. Their cheeks share reddened moisture as they brush against each other gently, slowly, without words or explanation. They sit like this for a while, Eurydice’s body suddenly heavy with the ghosts of her memories.

“Will you come home?” He asks her so softly that she nearly believes the words are imaginary-that the way he’d been holding her for this immeasurable amount of time had been just a result of exhaustion and wishful thinking. When she looks up at him, he is real-unfalteringly real. He emphasizes the word as if it were made just for them, just for the space they had created and the life they’d begun to share. Home. Her lips lift in a softened grin.

“I really want to come home.”

             There’s immediate comfort.

             “Go take a shower.” Orpheus urges, “I’m going to make something quick for dinner.” She sighs happily, thankfully, and her eyes close as he kisses her forehead, runs a hand along her arm. She hadn’t taken a decent shower since she’d left, her apartment boasting lukewarm water temperatures and a lack of water pressure. The scalding water soothes her immediately, just as the gentle rainwater scent of the handcrafted soap Demeter had given them.

             Eurydice puts on a pair of sweatpants and one of his shirts. His clothes hang loose on her frame, but less and less as time passes. She’s thankful for the bump that brushes against the fabric, that causes the cloth to hug and drape differently than it had just a few months ago. Even with the exhaustion of the day settling into her body, she feels a hefty weight begin to drift off of her shoulders.

             Hair still damp, Eurydice walks with bare feet back into the open living space. She smiles at the shelves lined with photographs, puts the needle back over the last record he’d been playing. It’s an older sound, all brass and bluesy rhythms, and the sound fills the space with a harmony she hadn’t known she’d been missing. Her fingers run along the strings of his guitar collection where she stops and stands still, admiring the way he’d had them hung on the wall, put in stands on the floor. Each piece of the room is a piece of Orpheus; kind, gentle Orpheus. Her eyes begin to mist at the sight of his favored guitar case lain open on the ground, the last ultrasound photo of their daughter tacked inside with care.

             She finds herself on the couch without a second thought, lost in the sound of the music and the relative quiet of this neighborhood. Eurydice can hear the sound of Orpheus humming along to the record she’d chosen, his bustling in the kitchen. She considers getting up, walking the short distance and standing there with him while he cooks. Her body protests, having searched for this comfort that soothes her throbbing joints for so long. Her eyes close reflexively, the sounds and the warmth washing over her with a sense of irreplaceable peace.

             He finds her like this; head leaned back on the sofa, one leg draped over the edge of the couch and the other neatly on it. Her hair has half-dried, puffed up and waved. The slightest bit of a snore accompanies her slow, even breaths, and Orpheus chuckles to himself as he listens to the sound. He does not want to wake her, but the couch leaves little room for her to move and his worry flies to her back, her neck.

             He calls her name softly, one hand in her hair and his lips on her cheek. She groans, shifts her position and cracks her eyes open for just a second. She rubs at her eyes, yawning when she hears her name again.

             “Do you want to eat?” He asks. She shakes her head, smiling apologetically.

             “Just sleep,” she mutters, the grogginess evident in the light, slightly graveled tone of her voice. “So tired.”

             “You need to go to bed, this couch is going to hurt your back.”

             “Come with me?”

             She lifts herself off of the sofa with a herculean effort, blinking back to the light of the room. He shuffles around, shutting off the lights and the music, wrapping up their food for another day. By the time he makes it to bed she’s half-asleep; eyes closed, limbs splayed out comfortably, one hand neatly lain across the little bump of her belly. Orpheus lays another blanket over her, brushes her flyaway hair from her eyes and kisses the cheeks that had been stained with tears. She feels his weight as he lays beside her, shuffles herself over until she’s pressed up against him. He settles quickly with her next to him again, listens to the music of her breathing.

             Before he can fall fully asleep he can hear Eurydice whisper against the darkness, feel her kiss on his shoulder and the sigh of contentment that matches his.

             She tells him she loves him, and he holds her closer as he whispers back to her.

             I love you. You’re home.

[rinki-sharma]

Website Navigation: Tips & Best Practices For Businesses

Are you aware of what online consumers are saying regarding website user experience? Here are some important stats you should know!

88% of users say they are less likely to return to a website after a poor user experience.

94% of customers wish for easy navigation when they visit a website.

Another study reveals that 94% of a site’s negative feedback is related to design.

A great way to enhance the experience of a site is to build exceptional navigation. When you do that, you will also be automatically improving your SEO performance.

Good site navigation ensures that your visitors effortlessly find what they are looking for, and makes it easy for search engines to crawl as well. It results in more conversions and higher search visibility.

But how do you actually build awesome navigation for your small business website? There are so many tips on the internet that it can be overwhelming for novices and webmasters alike. You can also get in touch with a Web Application Development Company to take help to build awesome navigation for your your website.

In this blog, we will be looking into some of the most practical and best website navigation tips and best practices for small businesses.

But before that,

What Exactly Is Website Navigation?

Website navigation can also be termed internal link architecture. They are the links within your business site connecting your pages. Its main function is to aid users in easily finding what they are searching for on your site.

Having good website navigation will rank your site higher on search results as search engines use your site navigation to find out and index new pages.

The links on your site will assist the search engines in understanding the target page’s content and context and also the relationships between pages.

The Core Objective Of Website Navigation

Your users should always be your central focus while building your site navigation. To satisfy your users, you will have to make navigation easy. Then, you can implement strategies to optimize your site for SEO without letting it hurt the user experience.

According to statistics, it takes only 50 milliseconds for a web visitor to form an opinion about your site. If your site gives a bad first impression, users are most likely to leave your site and may never return back.

Thus, small business owners should aim to build a modern website navigation design that creates positive first impressions and great UX. A great website experience occurs when a user spends less time on your site while getting all their needs met. It will happen if you focus on building a site taking into account your customers’ preferences and what they find most beneficial.

Top Website Navigation Tips And Best Practices For Small Business

As promised, here are the top website navigation tips and best practices your small business can start implementing today. They will help your business to boost traffic, enhance engagement, and increase conversions and sales.

1. Have A Well-Planned Strategy

You need to have a plan while building a website. So before jumping right in, find out which features and pages are required for your website and plan out their hierarchy. Features including the About us page, Home page, blog section, review section, FAQs, and so on are all crucial for a business website.  

While at it, you should also find out which of these pages are most valuable for your customers. Creating a sitemap will make things more transparent and easier for you.

Your sitemap should include a list of all the essential website pages and sub-categories contained within them. It should also point out the most important pages and pages that are less significant.

Below is an example of a diagram-style sitemap. However, you can choose whatever format you feel comfortable using.

Consider using the user adoption platform while training your team. It can help you to design interactive guides without coding knowledge, effectively engage your users across different touchpoints, and allow you to measure the effectiveness of your user engagement with their advanced analytics.

2. Design Unique And Consistent Primary Navigation

Focus on designing primary navigation that is not only unique but also consistent throughout the website. Consistent design helps accessibility, allowing users to navigate a site more quickly.

Navigation becomes more straightforward when it doesn’t necessitate users to learn new functionality when they visit new pages or sections.

When you visit a well-designed website, you can easily identify the main menu as it is typically positioned at the top of the page in the middle or aligned to the right or left of the page.

You can also spot the main menu by its uniqueness or contrast against all other things on the page.

Take a look at this example below:

The primary navigation design of Auberge Handfield Country Inn looks excellent.

Their left-hand menu design stands out with its use of custom font and the overall size distribution. And aren’t the bold typography and strokes arresting? Their high contrast against the navy blue side panel has been smartly applied.

3. Focus On Responsive Navigation

Not having a responsive website will land your business in big trouble. If you consider the stats and facts,

Nearly 60% of all internet access is attributed to smartphones.

94% of web visitors judge sites on responsive design.

Also, the Google search engine prioritizes responsive sites.

When you create a responsive design, your business site will look great on any device. And a part of the responsive design practice includes creating a compact navigation style, which can be achieved by creating the hamburger menu.

The hamburger menu is the answer to improve website navigation on smartphones without using too much space. It can be neatly positioned in the top right or left-hand corner.

The example below is of Bad Assembly’s hamburger menu design. Their functional design stands out and appears carefully designed. Moreover, the navigation is consistent with their visual approach.

When you click the stacked hamburger icon, the hidden menus are displayed on full-screen websites.

Another way to create responsive navigation is to build sidebar navigation as done by the denim brand Edwin Europe. This trend is becoming increasingly popular, thanks to its usability.

When you use the sidebar menu, the items will be highlighted all throughout the internal website pages as users navigate them.

Sidebar menus are a great option for mobile-responsive sites owing to their scalability and ease of use on any device, including smartphones.

4. Consider The Sticky Menu

Sticky menu, floating menu, or fixed menu – they are one and the same.

It is the type of menu that stays fixed even when browsers scroll down your website, hence the name.

The sticky menu comes really handy when you have long-scrolling pages. It saves your visitors from having to painstakingly scroll all the way back up just to access another page.

While working with a fixed navigation menu, consider auto-resizing your navigation bars, especially if your navigation menu is big. It will ensure that your menu doesn’t occupy too much space.

If you visit the Fandango Media Group website, you will find that they have implemented auto-resizing for their fixed navigation style menu. Though it hasn’t shrunk much, you feel the transformation when scrolling.

You can also choose to add a Back to Top button. It can help consumers save time.

However, your choice of navigation style will depend on the design and layout of your site. So consider them while creating the most convenient navigation style for your website. You can also consider moving your business to popular and established e-commerce platforms like ShopifyPlus. The platform allows you to design custom navigation so that you can prioritize products and “collections” and increase conversions.

5. Add Call-To-Action Buttons

All websites, irrespective of industry, goal, and design, ask visitors to take a certain action. In marketing, CTAs can turn visitors into leads for the sales team. For that reason, you want a strong CTA that can convince people to act.

It has been found that CTAs that have strong, personalized messages can boost conversion rates by 202%.

Some great strategies to apply while creating CTAs for your website include:

Using personalized call-to-action

Invoking a sense of urgency

Incorporating value propositions

Using action-oriented words

Ensuring the right size and shape

Standing out by using contrasting colors

In the example below, Adobe applies remarkable psychology of colors. The designers have used blue color over a black background, making the call to action alluring and resonant with the voice of the brand.

Note that the color you apply will depend on the website’s design. Test several colors before settling for a color that can bring you more conversions.

As a small business, you will also want to increase your email subscribers.

You can have a look at the CTA of the shoe company Rothy to get some inspiration for increasing email subscribers.

The brand creates a sense of exclusivity in their CTA by saying, “find out first,” encouraging more sign-ups.

As customers want to be among the first to know about new sales, products, or news, creating exclusivity is a smart move to increase email sign-ups or sales, for that matter.

Wrapping-Up

Offering a great user experience should be the goal of every business that wants to succeed. Having stellar business website navigation is a sure-fire way to increase UX.

Follow these five crucial website navigation tips mentioned in this blog to design a site with easy navigation and keep your users engaged while increasing conversions and sales.

You can also use these website navigation tips to increase your email subscribers, social media following, and so on by including a CTA button.

Plus, remember that good website navigation can improve your SEO performance as it makes it easy for search engines to crawl your site.

Source: Technians Blog Website Navigation Tips

[politeanarchy]

There’ll Be Paperwork (a WIP)

Here’s the beginning of a thing I’m writing, in which a snake-demon causes some unintentional problems in the early days of the Earth.

...

Corporation Replacement Request Form Date: 4003 BC Requesting Entity: Principality Aziraphale of the Eastern Gate Cause of Discorporation: demonic bite

It had been several months since Adam and Eve were cast out of the Garden. An angel and a demon had been quietly following them for most of that time. On this particular evening, the humans were huddled close to a small fire, doing their best to comfort one another against the chill that followed after sunset, while the angel and demon peered warily at them from behind a couple of concealing boulders.

"We could have a fire, too," said the demon.

"Of course we can't, they'd see it!"

"So?"

"So then they'd come to investigate, and they'd find us, and then they'd be exposed to your evil influences again. Goodness only knows what else you'd manage to tempt them into, given the chance."

The demon made a sort of diffident hmmmm-ing noise. "Don't know what anyone expects me to do, with you here thwarting me left and right." He shivered. "Aren't you cold?"

"Here, sit next to me." The angel shook his wings, then fluffed them up and wrapped them around himself and the demon. "Better?" He picked up a fig from the small stash of fruit he'd brought along and which they'd been sharing fairly amicably.

"A little," agreed the demon. He nibbled a couple of grapes, while trying to pretend not to huddle a little closer to the warm angel. "Besides, if we talked to the humans again, wouldn't it give you a chance to help them, with, you know, blessings or some such?"

"I certainly wish I could help them," the angel fretted. "They're  going to need it, especially since I'm pretty sure Eve is going to have her baby soon." He bit into the soft ripe fig, leaving his fingers slightly sticky with juice.

"How do you know that?" asked the demon. "Have you got a heavenly memo saying that angelic messengers are going to be popping along with it shortly, or what?"

"What? No! That's not how it works at all." The angel waved his hands and gesticulated impatiently, still holding the bitten half of the fig. "You see, she...well, and...I mean..."

The demon wasn't making much attempt to follow the explanation. He knew where humans came from: the Almighty made them, then put them on the Earth, gave them a few simple (and probably contradictory) instructions, and turned them loose. And honestly, the angel's incoherent ramblings wouldn't have made much sense even if the demon had been listening. Whereas the waving hand holding the fig was exactly the sort of thing that predatory reptiles were built to notice.

The demon watched him closely, yellow slitted eyes tracking every motion, head swaying.

"So after nine months...at least I think...oh, this is ridicu— Hey!"

There was a sudden movement, like a snake striking. The angel was startled to find that his remaining fruit had been stolen, licked out of his fingers by the demon who was still holding him by the wrist, staring with intense focus at the remaining patches of sweet juice.

"I beg your pardon!"

"Sssorry. Inssstinct."

They stared at each other, the space between them charged with complex tensions.

"You're still holding my hand."

"I ssuppose I am." Without breaking eye contact, the demon brought the angel's fingers back up to his mouth and deliberately licked some juice off them. This resulted in a sharp intake of breath from the angel, followed by a wicked smile from the demon. "Dissstracting, is it?"

"No! Yes. I mean..."

"You don't ssseem to be asssking me to ssstop, though."

"Why are you doing this, anyway?"

"Dunno. It's interesssting." He was looking sleeker and more sinuous than usual, forked tongue flicking out to taste the air, teeth grown longer and sharper.

The angel may have been aware of the changes, but was also pretty sure he could take his hand away any time he felt like it. He just didn't happen to feel like it, at the moment. It was quite interesting, this business of how bodies reacted to different things. He was here on Earth to observe and learn, after all. In fact, it was practically a duty to find out why it was that this made him feel so uncomfortable, while at the same time making him want it to keep happening.

So he made no move to reclaim his hand, but continued to gaze at the demon curiously. And permitted the demon to close his sharp-toothed mouth around one finger, gently licking off the last traces of fig juice and noticing how its flavor combined with the taste of angel skin.

It was unfortunate that at exactly this moment, a bright light and a swell of unearthly music announced the imminent manifestation of some new angelic presence just a few yards away, on the other side of the boulders they'd been hiding behind.

The demon, startled, bit down hard on the angel's finger.

"Ow!"

"Oh, shit! Sorry! I didn't mean to—"

The angel, after the initial shock of being bitten, realized that something was very wrong with his physical body. Waves of pain were spreading up his arm from the bitten finger, and his eyes wouldn't focus properly. "You idiotic serpent! I think you must be poisonous!"

"I'm not poisonous, I'm venomous!"

Frantically, in his last conscious moments, the offended angel gathered all his holy righteousness and human irritation, and used them to smite the demon as hard as he could.

A few minutes later, when two angelic messengers arrived on Earth to help Eve with the birth of her first baby, they didn't even notice the fading traces of a discorporated angel and a discorporated demon, dissolving quietly into dust and aether. If there was a faint smell of sulphur and charred feathers and ozone, they put it down to the humans' campfire.

Aziraphale shortly found himself back in Heaven, and was eventually presented with a commendation for his heroic actions in the service of protecting Adam and Eve by fighting and eliminating a demonic threat. He shook his head and made a tut-tut sort of noise, and may even have gone so far as to say hmph.

However, it was a relief to return to the familiar serene brightness of the celestial realm. To join in the choirs singing "Holy, holy, holy." To contemplate the ineffable wonder of it all, and especially to think about the Earth, so complicated and confusing. To worry a little about how Adam and Eve were doing. To wonder what had become of the demon who was so full of curiosity. To miss having a body that was able to experience physical sensations. To admonish himself for being full of unseemly questions and unsuitable desires.

He stared out across an infinite expanse of pristine firmament and fidgeted, tapping his fingers and wondering what to call his current state of discontent. Heaven didn't understand the concept of boredom, but Aziraphale was beginning to.

"Aziraphale! Just the angel I was hoping to see."

"Gabriel." He nodded politely at the Archangel.

"I've come to inform you that you're being re-assigned to Earth. From what we hear, some demonic force is causing problems again. Might even be the same one you got rid of when you were down there before. Aaaaand since you handled him so neatly the last time, well." Gabriel smiled, smooth and shiny as a platinum credit card.

Aziraphale stopped himself from jumping up and down, and suppressed a joyful cry along the lines of "Yippee!" Instead he smiled back, and hoped he was projecting a sense of cheerful enthusiasm for duty rather than oh thank goodness I can finally get out of this stifling office. "I'm always happy to help, in whatever way the Lord should require of me."

Gabriel beamed, and punched him playfully on the shoulder. It hurt a bit. "That's the Holy Spirit I like to see!"

Aziraphale wondered whether Gabriel's rampant enthusiasm meant that no one else had been willing to take the Earth job, or if he was just imagining it. It didn't much matter, he supposed. He was impatient to get going as soon as possible.

"When should I expect to leave, then?" he asked.

"Right away." Gabriel materialized a stack of pages, and handed them over. "You'll just need to fill out some paperwork, first."

[sixqueendom]

New Fanfic: If Only You Would Listen, Chapter 4

So, after having a few requests to, I’ve decided to post my new fic on here as well as AO3. If you would prefer to read on AO3, I have included the link below!  No real warnings for this one. Just the usual angst I'm sure you've grown accustomed to with my fics if you’ve read any of my previous work!

A huge thank you to Phoebe (@theatergirl06), Lilac (@timetoriseabove) and  Blue (@pen-and-a-microphone) for beta-reading this fic! You  guys are the best! An extra special thank you to Blue (@pen-and-a-microphone) for your support, thoroughness and help with this fic! Without you, my grammar would be tragic and i’d never be able to conjure the right words I want to say! I hope you all enjoy this final chapter! AO3 ------------------

There was a deep sense of nervous anticipation the following morning as, one by one, the Queens came downstairs for breakfast. Jane, as always, was the first to rise. She couldn’t resist peeking into Kitty’s bedroom with baited breath, before her shoulders slumped as her eyes fell onto the neatly made bed. But she clung onto the tiny shred of hope she had left, as she padded downstairs to the kitchen, only for her heart to sink at the sight of the vacant space. Despite this, she soldiered on and prepared breakfast, determined to maintain the usual routine for the others’ sake. The smell of sweet pancakes and toast must have sparked some optimism, as a disheveled Cathy sleepily trudged in next, her eyes hopeful, her hair hastily tied up into a messy bun. But, seeing the room empty besides Jane, her face fell as she slid into a chair at the table. Even Catherine, who always waltzed in breezily each morning, fresh-faced and bright, couldn’t conceal her bitter disappointment, the smile slipping from her lips as she poured herself some tea. 

Finally, a familiar thump at the bottom of the stairs announced Anne’s unceremonious arrival. The reality hit her hardest, her hopes of Kitty having returned home dashed as she froze in the doorway. The others watched as her head dipped in an effort to hide her quivering lip, her hands clenched into fists by her sides as she tried to fight her anguish. Jane slowly lifted herself from her place at the table, casting her a sympathetic look. 

  “Come on, love,” she said, softly, wrapping her arm gently around the girl and guiding her to the seat between herself and Cathy.

  As Anne buried her face in her hands to quietly cry, Cathy abandoned her toast and pulled her closer, resting her head on the younger woman’s shoulder for comfort. Despite the glorious sunshine outside, the solemn mood cast a shadow over the room. Breakfast in the house was usually quite predictable in nature, with each of the women having their preferred times of rising from bed. It was always buzzing with discussion - the exchanging of plans for the day ahead, bubbly laughter in the air from Anne or Kitty - the soundtrack to their everyday life. 

  But today, there was simply silence. 

  The playful skip of an entrance from Kitty, the flash of pink hair, was missing. There was no giggling as she was teased by Anne, no light-hearted roll of the eyes from Cathy when she realised they’d swiped the jar of Nutella, no general banter exchanged as Anna finally made an appearance, barging in to help herself to a slice of toast. Instead, the whole routine was stiff, subdued. Once Anna finally arrived, there was no loud proclamation; the German sank into the nearest seat without a sound, propping her head up with one arm. Catherine made a half-hearted attempt at normality as she flicked distractedly through the pages of her magazine in a futile effort to divert her attention away from the empty chair beside her. The gaping hole where Kitty should be. 

  Finally, Cathy stood wearily, fighting against the heavy feeling that almost overcame her. She made a quick call to their agent to cancel the interview scheduled for later that morning, fabricating a lie about a stomach bug amongst the Queens, before retreating to her bedroom. Jane began to stack the dishes up to wash, Catherine quick to volunteer her help, feeling the need to keep herself occupied. That left Anna and Anne exchanging despondent looks across the table, silently admitting they should probably be going to do something. After a small staring match, it was Anna who finally stood to leave, deciding to move to the lounge to binge-watch TV. Then Anne was alone, her head resting on the table. She had no motivation to move, not without the insistent tug of her cousin to lift her from the table and lead her upstairs. Her legs felt like they were made of lead, her head foggy. She wanted nothing more than to lie there all day. After all, what was the point of doing anything if Kitty wasn’t there?

  Catherine finally broke the silence, turning to face Anne, desperate to try and instill some hope back into the younger woman. 

  “Maybe she’ll turn up for the show this afternoon.” It wasn’t a suggestion, it was a statement. 

  Anne tilted her head, her eyes still red-rimmed and puffy from her earlier tears. Oh, how she hoped Catherine was right. But she still couldn’t shove away the thought that Kitty’s decision had been final; that her patience had run thin, and they had driven her away for good. After all, she didn’t owe them anything, and she certainly had no obligation to turn up for the show today. They would have to call the theatre and arrange for her understudy to be brought in. But even the thought of performing without Kitty there made her heart ache. How could they possibly be expected to continue without her?

  Shaking her head, Anne gave a sigh and silently left the room.

 -------------------

Meanwhile, at the hotel, Kitty had come to the conclusion that her current situation was unsustainable. She couldn’t just stay in a hotel forever, especially not with limited funds. She had no way to support herself, to eat, or to keep safe. And she was getting so lonely.

  She needed her Queens.

But, did they need her? After all, they had been the ones to shun her, push her further away. Picking at her breakfast, Kitty mulled over her options. Part of her felt pulled back to them, like a lifeboat back to shore, to the security of a home and the people that she knew and loved. Everyone deserves a second chance, right? But then, there was also the unrelenting fear that she had irrevocably changed the home dynamics and her relationships with the other Queens. Could things between them ever really go back to the way they were before? When Kitty seriously thought about it, the obvious answer was no. After all, the “normal” she now longed for had also resulted in the dispute and resulting rift. Back in that “normal”, she had felt childish and insignificant. Yet, there had unquestionably been aspects of that familiarity that she’d loved. What she would give now to have a spontaneous, carefree dance off with Anna and Anne in their dressing room, inevitably getting glitter everywhere as they giggled. To have that delicious sweet smell of Jane’s baking floating upstairs on a warm, sunny afternoon, which would bring them all outside to sit on the patio and laugh over lemonade and cakes, the sun shining on their faces. She had felt part of the group then. 

  Then, there was the other part of her, telling her to persevere; she’d made her choice, now it was up to them to deal with the consequences. After all, she’d had no say in being reincarnated in the first place, so what was there to say that she was meant to stay with the other five wives who had also been mistreated and subsequently united by a mutual ex-husband. Maybe she was destined for greater things that didn’t involve them? 

  But again, surely there had been some purpose for them being reincarnated together? Surely that had to mean something? 

  There was also the issue of the show, which she had signed a contract for. She owed it to them to turn up...didn’t she? No, wait, she didn’t owe them anything! Not after the way they treated her! But then, there was the problem of her contract; if she bailed out with no notice, what would happen then? Her reputation would undoubtedly be tarnished.

  Kitty groaned, her head throbbing as her inner thoughts conflicted. She felt free, yet lost , independent, yet painfully lonely. Why couldn’t someone just tell her what was for the best? What path was right for her? This had all happened so fast; she was having to readily make choices most people would have days, if not months, to consider, prior to coming to a decision. 

  She pulled out the photo once more. 

  So, what’s it to be, Kitty? Are you ready to go home, or are you ready to leave them behind?

 --------------------

Having consulted with Jane after Anne had left the room, Catherine decided they should hold off on another search in the morning and, instead, suggest to the others that they go to the theatre as normal. Despite lying to their agent to get out of the interview, it was still plausible that the fictional illness could have subsided in time for an afternoon show. The feedback from the others had mostly been positive; Cathy and Anna seemed hopeful that Kitty might be pulled back to perform. Anne, however, was in denial, finding it impossible to shake the feeling that Kitty’s actions had been final, that she wasn’t coming back. So, with that, the Queens arrived early for their afternoon performance. They tried to stick to their usual pre-show routines, but the atmosphere was quieter than normal, muted. There was no lively chatter or banter between them, no music spilling out from Anna’s portable speaker, which, on most days, would be enough to prompt a spell of singing. 

  The silence was the first thing Kitty noticed as she let herself into the stage door. As she walked down the narrow corridor, approaching the adjoining two dressing rooms, her heart was pounding in her ears. She clamped her eyes shut as she took a deep breath, doubt still gnawing away at her. She prayed that she was doing the right thing, that she would not live to regret this. 

When she peered around the corner into the dressing room she shared with Anne and Cathy, she was stunned to see how solemn and quiet they were, just going through the motions without uttering a word. Kitty felt her heart wrench. Was this about her? Did they really miss her? It was Anne who looked up first, the familiar flash of pink, catching the corner of her eye. Her mouth fell open, her eyes already glistening with tears as she launched herself from her seat, throwing her arms around Kitty in relief, the force almost knocking the wind right out of her. Cathy whirled around, her eyes wide, before breaking into a smile. Kitty could barely breathe, Anne was squeezing her so tightly, but she didn’t argue. If anything, it only confirmed one thing: this was where she was meant to be. Burying her head into her cousin’s shoulder, she too began to cry. 

  After a moment, Kitty pulled away, wiping her eyes. 

  “There’s something I need to do,” she said with conviction, before moving next door. 

  She ignored Catherine and Anna gawping in bewilderment as she entered, not hesitating to walk up to Jane and wrap her in a hug, causing her to gasp in surprise.

  “Oh, Kitty, darling!” she breathed, returning the hug with the same intensity, the tears coming quick. 

  “I’m sorry,” Kitty sobbed into her shoulder, relishing in finally having the feeling of Jane’s comforting arms around her once more. It filled her with love: this was home.

  “No,” Jane shook her head, pulling back and brushing a tendril of hair from Kitty’s eyes. “It’s me who should be sorry. I’ve been too scared to acknowledge that you’re not a girl anymore, that you’re an adult and you should be treated like one.” Jane paused to compose herself, dabbing her eyes with a tissue. “I’ve been so consumed in trying to replicate what I could have had, instead of accepting that’s all in the past now. I’m not your mother, after all, although sometimes I wish I was. I bet you’re thankful I’m not.” Jane chuckled jokingly, which in turn made Kitty smile through her own tears.

  “But that’s just the thing,” Kitty sniffed, bowing her head. “I love nothing more than your hugs, your baking...and I do sometimes wish you were my mum but…” Kitty hesitated, biting her lip as she considered her words carefully. “I...suppose I just want more space? More, um, freedom?”

  Jane nodded in agreement, a smile still on her face. 

  “Maybe we can compromise? I won’t nag at you for what time you’ll be home if I still get to fuss over you, on special occasions?”

  Kitty laughed.

  By this time, all of the Queens had congregated in the room, all surprised and relieved in equal measure.

  “We all owe you an apology too,” Cathy admitted, standing tall. 

  “We never meant to ever make you feel insecure, or that your words were less valued than anyone else’s. You’re every bit a part of this family as anyone else,” Catherine said, wrapping her in a brief hug, giving her shoulders a reassuring squeeze as she moved back. “And, I’m sorry. For being so harsh on you.”

  Anna stepped forward, wringing her hands. “We really missed you. I want you to know that I’d never, ever wish you weren’t here. You’re a vital part of our slightly dysfunctional family.” The comment prompted several chuckles. “What i meant to say is...I’m so sorry, Kit. I never wanted to drive you away.”

  Kitty pulled the German close. 

  It left only Anne, who stood rather forlornly in the middle of the room, distractedly picking at her fingernails. After a moment, her gaze lifted to meet Kitty’s eyes.

  “I think I probably owe you the biggest apology,” she mumbled, ashamedly. “It was my idea to stop discussing certain things in front of you. I just...wanted to protect you, not realising that you are more than capable of holding your own. I didn’t mean for it to go this far, for you to feel like you weren’t a part of us, like we were talking behind your back all the time. I would never have suggested it in the first place if I’d known how much that would hurt you.”

  Kitty tilted her head in sadness, watching as Anne began to crumple in front of her, shame bringing yet more tears to her cousin’s eyes. 

  “Oh, Annie…” 

  She hurried over to envelop her in a reassuring hug. 

  “I know you were all just looking out for me. I don’t blame you for suggesting it either. I mean...we all don’t like talking about our past sometimes.” She nuzzled her face into Anne’s shoulder. “I know you were just trying to stop me getting hurt.”

  Feeling a heavy weight being lifted off of her shoulders, Anne sunk further into Kitty’s hug, a smile breaking out on her face. “Beheaded cousins...right?”

  Kitty grinned, pulling away and giving her hand a gentle squeeze, with a wink. “Right.”

  It was like the entire room breathed a sigh of relief, the air finally clearing. But Kitty wasn’t finished. She looked around at all of the Queens.

  “I want you all to know I’m sorry, too. I should never have run away like that, leaving you all worried.” She gazed purposefully at Catherine. “You were right, I should have taken a more mature approach to my problems. I shouldn’t have raised my voice like that and said what I did. I was just feeling so...lost. Like I wasn’t that important because I wasn’t included in all your conversations. I just wanted the chance to speak up, to feel more included, not left to feel like I was just like a little kid who was incapable of making their own decisions. Some of the topics that come up, sure, they’ll be hard. But I can handle them now. And, if I’m not having such a good day, or I feel like something might get upsetting, I’ll just walk away.”

  The Queens listened intently, giving Kitty their undivided attention. It was the first time in a while that they had all listened to what she had to say, and they knew, now more than ever, how important it was. As Kitty continued, they made motions of encouragement

  “Whilst I was away, I realised that I really needed you all. I missed every single one of you.” As she spoke, she turned to each Queen in turn. 

  “Jane, believe it or not I missed your comfort, your hugs. I just wanted you to tell me that everything was going to be okay.”

  She held out her hand, pulling the older woman close to her.

  “Cathy, when I couldn’t sleep I wished so desperately that I could sneak into your room and just talk, about everything and anything.” The writer gave her a warm smile, a glint in her eye. They would do that again soon.

“Anna, I missed your jokes; you always know how to make me laugh and cheer me up when I’m down.” The German was quick to ruffle her hair at the comment, pulling her closer to give her a squeeze.

“Catherine, I actually love getting to spend some mornings with you and you do give the best fashion advice.“ Kitty watched as the older woman’s face lit up, genuinely touched by the words. When Catherine didn’t move, Kitty beckoned her over to join the rest of the group.

Finally, Kitty turned to her cousin. “And Anne, well...who would I cause trouble with if it wasn’t with you?

At that, Anne practically flung herself forwards, and the youngest girl was suffocated in the tightest group hug she had ever felt. With the final piece of the puzzle in place, she felt like she could finally breathe again.

 They were interrupted by the half an hour call over the tannoy.

 At that, Anne scurried off, before quickly re-appearing with Kitty’s costume in hand, a huge smirk on her face. 

“So, what do you say, Kit? Ready to be a Queen again?”

[what-big-teeth]

Spark (Male Fire Elemental, pt. 3)

After a sudden setback, Simone is unsure if her original goal of making her grandmother’s house a home is doable. But the outcome to a phone call may be the encouragement she needs to keep going. And with Ignis by her side, things start to look up.  

Female Human (POV) x Male Monster  [Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 4]

“Will that be all, officer?”

The cop jots down my partial description of the intruder and pockets her notepad.

“Yes, Miss Price, that should do it,” she says. She glances over at Mason’s pickup and frowns. “While we can’t allow you or your boyfriend back inside, I can bring out some clothes for him.”

Ignis hasn’t said a thing since Mica dialed 9-1-1 with my phone. Which makes sense with everything that’s happened without warning so far. He’s been handling being in his human form and wrapped in my duvet well enough. I just don’t know how he feels about the authorities thinking he’s my boyfriend and we were suddenly “interrupted”. The idea still makes my cheeks warm over pleasantly.

“No, it’s fine,” I say, rubbing my hands over my heavy coat sleeves. “He can borrow some of my friend’s clothes at the motel. His sister is letting me do the same.”

The officer nods then tells me she’ll call so I can pick up the rest of my things from the station later, after the crime scene has been investigated. God, that’s what it is now, isn’t it? No longer a home and not even a house. The intruder didn’t take anything tangible, but what they did was still precious. The sense of security.

“Miss Price?”

I rub at my burning eyes. The cop looks at me with a mix of pity and sadness.

“Get some rest, alright?”

I nod. Then I climb into the backseat of Mason’s truck because that’s the only thing I can do.

“Ready to go?” Mica asks softly.

“Yeah.”

The pickup pulls away from the property and coasts down the road. Maybe for my sake; I’m not sure. All I know is Nana’s house will never be the same.

A gentle heat ghosts over my skin then intertwines with my fingers. Ignis. I squeeze his hand in thanks until Mason clears his throat and glances at me through the rearview mirror.

“What we heard over the phone,��� he says, “that was all true?”

Ignis raises his free hand, being careful of the duvet, and snaps his fingers. A small flame ignites from the action and burns for a few long seconds before dissipating.

“It is.”

“Right,” Mason sighs, dragging a hand over his face. “Of course…”

“Being in that form isn’t uncomfortable, is it?” Mica hedges, looking back at us. “We don’t know how people in town will react to what you really look like, so...”

“This appearance is something I personally made,” Ignis says. “Maintaining it is simple. You have nothing to worry about.”

Mica looks relieved by his answer, but it just leaves me feeling curious.

“Mind if I ask how you made this form?”

Ignis’ features soften and his gaze grows distant.

“One of the many possessors of my flask was a gladiator, raised in the Roman Empire. He suggested my name and was the first human to treat me as an equal; a friend. When he was killed in combat and I was taken away, I chose to use his appearance as the basis for this form. But I never thought I’d put my it to use.”

Mica’s sputter quickly dispels the nostalgic air.

“I-I’m sorry, but did you say the Roman Empire? As in Diocletian and Justinian? That Roman Empire?”

“Yes,” Ignis says, tilting his head. “Is there an issue?”

“No! No issue,” she says with a growing grin. “It’s just that, well…”

Mica’s practically vibrating in her seat. She’s always been a huge history nerd and the interest grew until she decided to nurture it in college then graduate school. So it wasn’t surprising when she decided to turn her love of history into a degree. I snort, trying to stifle my laugh, but fail.

“You’re basically a piece of living history,” I say. “In other words, she’s saying you’re old.”

Mica shakes her head, probably to the point of making herself dizzy.

“It’s not that your old, Ignis. It’s just that you’ve seen so much! Knowing what you are, if you were around for the gladiator games, then maybe you were around for the founding of the Roman Empire itself.”

She hops in her seat, back straightening. “Oh! Or maybe even before then? How long were you in Europe? Were you always in Europe? Were you present during the Hadean Eon?”

“In English?” Mason groans out.

“When Earth was a literal roiling firestorm before rocks were a thing,” Mica says. “Anyway!”

Mica keeps asking Ignis questions and surprisingly, he answers them all in a calm and patient tone. He even chuckles when she goes off on a tangent and attempts to guess what time periods he’s witnessed. Mason soon joins in, reminding Mica that everyone in the truck doesn’t speak “fluent geek”. That leads to the twins falling into a spat that makes Ignis laugh deep from his belly. It’s an unforgettable sound just like this moment. Seeing the people I love like this is enough to make me happy.

…Love, huh? When did Ignis become a part of that special group?

“Simone?”

Ignis gently squeezes my hand while looking down at me with ruby-red eyes. For reasons that are slowly becoming clearer, my cheeks warm over.

“Are you alright?” he asks.

Mica laughs as Mason trips over a complex word before deciding to focus solely on the road. But there’s a small smile on his face, despite his embarrassment. That’s why it’s easy to nod sincerely.

“Yeah. I’m good.”

The rest of the trip to the motel is filled with laughter, grins, and the warmth of Ignis’ hand encasing mine. We pull into the empty, silent parking lot and quickly guide Ignis into the twins’ hotel room. Or at least, it would be if it didn’t have just one bed. Mason heads towards his suitcase with Ignis in tow while Mica plops into a chair beside the heating system. She sighs contentedly, peeling off her thick gloves.

“Is your room nearby?” I ask.

“Yup, and with a second bed. Mason and I thought it’d be a good idea just in case...”

Mica’s words trails off, obviously not wanting to bring up the past few hours. She glances over her shoulder and I give her a smile.

“Thanks for looking out for me,” I say, then feel my smile falter. “Mind doing it again after I call Dad?”

“Not at all! But, uh, how are you going to explain…”

Mica gestures to a confused Ignis holding a small pile of clothes being ushered into the bathroom by Mason. The door closes with a loud creak and a soft click.

“Dad knows about Ignis, so lying isn’t necessary,” I say, sitting on the foot of Mason’s bed.

“So Ignis is the reason why your Dad and Nana became estranged?”

I nod. “He didn’t want me to have Nana’s house in the first place.” My fingers bunch the thin, white blanket beneath me. “What if he won’t hear Ignis out? I refuse to leave Ignis by himself, but I don’t want to sacrifice my relationship with Dad, either…”

The bed dips beside me and a gentle weight nudges my shoulder.

“I don’t think it’ll come to that,” Mica says. “But the best way to ensure that is to make sure they hold an honest conversation. Ignis already proved he’s able to do that and your Dad is too. As long as you’re there, they’ll have a reason to reach common ground.”

When I don’t reply, Mica nudges my shoulder again.

“You’ll see.”

The bathroom creaks open slowly and she grins wide, expectant. “Speaking of.”

But it’s Mason who steps out instead, blocking us from seeing the end result inside. My eyebrows knit together at his stiff movements.

“Something wrong?” I ask.

“Mica,” he says, “You…got money on hand, right?”

“Uh, yeah. Why do you—”

A loud rip sounds from inside the bathroom.

“…My apologies,” Ignis says. “The fit was too tight.”

Laughter bursts from my gut and I end up slipping off the bed and landing on my ass. The pain’s not enough to stop me. Mica’s close to tears from cackling so hard. And poor Mason’s left exasperated as he steps back into the bathroom and closes the door.

When we finally calm down and figure out Ignis and Mason’s sleep arrangements, I head out with Mica and my duvet. I collapse in bed with a grin on my face. And in that moment, I know things will work out, one way or another.

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

The smell of bacon and hash browns rouses me and makes my stomach grumble. Loudly. I sit up with a groan, uncaring of how Mica’s borrowed sleepshirt falls off my shoulders. I only care when someone clears their throat.

Ignis stares down at me with an amused smirk, still in human form. Wearing clothes that fit his tall, broad frame deliciously. The white shirt hidden underneath his black, leather jacket gives just a hint of the musculature of his torso. And god, his jeans. Not too loose or tight, but just enough to compliment his legs. Probably his ass, too. I can’t really tell from this angle, sadly.

“See something you like?” he asks, his voice a deep rumble.

The sound warms me in places I’ve ignored for the longest of time because of grad school. So having this happen right now with dried, flaking drool on the corner of my mouth and my natural curls being a hot mess…isn’t ideal. At all. I swipe at my mouth with my hand and adjust the sleepshirt as best I can. The old fabric just slips back into place, leaving my shoulders exposed. And open to a soothing heat that flows over my skin.

Ignis rolls one of my curls between his clawed finger and thumb with a teasing smile.

“I must say Simone, you look rather charming like this.” His fingers skim my shoulder, making me shiver. “But I wonder how you’d look completely debauched.”

Holy fu—

The room door opens without warning. I’m left staring at the place Ignis once stood, my mouth wide open and cheeks aflame. He, meanwhile, has somehow taken a seat at the nearby round table with a bag smelling like breakfast neatly set in the center by a bottle of orange juice.

“Simone?” Mica asks, wearing her coat and looking ready for the day. “You okay?”

Ignis just left me looking like a fool. Again. But in a very different way. I shift around a bit in a horrible attempt to curb my libido and clear my throat.

“Y-yeah. Still kind of tired, that’s all.”

Mica doesn’t say a word. She just smiles. Knowingly.

“Since I had to repay Mason for his ruined clothes, I thought it’d be best to get Ignis some much needed clothes.”

“Thank you again for your aid, Mica,” the bane of my single existence replies. “You’re too kind.”

“Not a problem! Do you mind helping Mason load the pickup truck?” She pulls out a brown bag from behind her back. “I still need to eat breakfast.”

“Of course.”

But before he leaves, Ignis’ gaze slides over to me, well over Mica’s head. It pins me in place until he closes the motel room door with a soft click. Mica takes Ignis’ old seat, unwraps her breakfast sandwich, and takes a bite while staring at me.

“So,” she says, “How was your wakeup call?”

“Mica, what the fuck?”

I wince against the sharp hoarseness of my voice. Mica just wipes her mouth with a thin napkin.

“What? I just asked Ignis to wake you up.” She grins mischievously. “I didn’t tell him how, though. Whatever he did, that was all him. But by the looks of things, I’m guessing you enjoyed it?”

Instead of replying, I throw the covers off, jump from the bed, and hurry into the bathroom. I start the shower and end up being sprayed with horrifically cold-ass water. I shriek and hear Mica cackle from the other room.

“Don’t think I didn’t see you two being sweet in the truck last night!” she yells above the loud spray.

Once I’m cleaned, clothed, and no longer horny, I go to town on my breakfast sandwich and orange juice. Blessedly, Mica stays quiet until I’m done.

“What time is it?” I ask.

“Almost ten. I thought it’d be best to get you ready and have Ignis cheer you up before your Dad comes.”

Right. The phone call. During all the silliness and Ignis acting like that, I had almost forgotten. Almost. Mica slides my phone across the table. According to the battery icon in the upper corner, it’s fully charged. She must’ve taken care of that for me last night.

“You know I got your back, right?” she asks. “So does Mason and Ignis, too.”

Having the twins’ support me does make me feel better. But when I imagine Ignis alongside of them, I can’t stop the warmth that floods my cheeks. And I don’t want to. I take a deep breath, pick it my phone, and dial Dad’s number.

“Hello?”

“Hey Dad.”

“Morning sweetheart! How are things over there?”

I brace myself then tell him everything. About getting to know Ignis, the attempted robbery, how he saved me and then me him. By the time I’m done, Dad’s gone completely silent.

Until, “Were you hurt? Are you safe?”

“Yeah, Ignis protected me. I…I think he almost died doing it.”

Another long silence.

“I’m coming down there.” His tone leaves no room for argument. “Stay with Mica and Mason until then, alright?”

I agree and don’t mention Ignis again; his voice already sounds tight and on edge. He ends the call and my body releases the tension it was hoarding.

“How was it?” Mica asks.

“We’ve got about two hours before he arrives at the motel.”

Mica’s mouth twists into a crooked, near frown. But she soon she perks up with a bright smile.

“Then let’s make the most of it. This town has a fun place to check out.” She stands up and holds out her hand towards me. “You in?”

I realize what she’s offering: a distraction. It’s exactly what I need, at least before the shit hits the fan. So I grab her hand and stand up.

“Let’s go.”

We meet Mason and Ignis outside, walking up to them just as they finish up their conversation. A calm one at that. Which is weird since Mason didn’t want anything to do with Ignis when they first met.

I explain the situation and the countdown until Dad arrives. Mason’s quick to agree, citing that Mica has extra money to blow (she smacks him for that). But Ignis looks completely out of his element, nothing like how he appeared in the motel room.

“What is a ‘arcade’?”

The twins and I grin.

We pull into the Comicade’s parking lot and head inside. Some of the distrusting looks of the adult customers fall away once Ignis steps into view, turning into curiosity and unashamed appreciation. I ignore the sourness building in my gut, accept the quarters Mica offers me, and make a beeline towards the Tetris machine.

I’m doing well, fitting the tetrominos in place with only a few incomplete lines at the bottom of the screen. They start piling up after I hear a too many flirty giggles. But they fall silent when a large, too-warm hand slowly glides across my lower back and rests on my hip.

“What sort of game is this?” Ignis asks, his hot breath ghosting the shell of my ear.

“T-Tetris. It’s a tile puzzle.” My voice sounds too strained for my liking.

“I see. Interesting.”

Ignis pulls away and I find myself missing his warmth. To the point that my body leans back to follow after him. But a familiar sound makes me freeze: the ‘Game Over’ tune. A soft chuckle sends a rush of frustration through me, in both senses of the word.

Thankfully, the rest of our time at the arcade is relatively calm. The twins and I manage to win a large amount of arcade tickets, but hand them off to a group of appreciative kids. At a quarter ‘til one, we decide to drive back to the motel. But before I’m able to follow Mica and Ignis out the door, Mason taps me on the shoulder.

“Can we talk?”

The bags under his eyes are somewhat darker and his expression screams defeat. It’s hard to look at him like this, which is why I agree. He calls out to Mica and, after a quick warning, tosses his keys at her when she faces him.

“Mind going on ahead?” he asks.

They hold a quick, silent conversation and Mica nods, leading Ignis outside. Once they’re gone, he leads me over to an empty corner of the arcade with stiff steps, his hands stuffed into his coat pockets. I’m about to ask what’s wrong, but he holds up a hand and shakes his head.

“If I don’t say this now, I probably never will.” He takes a deep breath and focuses on me. “I’ve been seeing you more as a friend for a while now. And that’s why I’ve been acting like, well, this.”

Mason pauses and gathers his dreadlocks in his hands, just to have something to do; one of his nervous tells. He lets go and they fall down.

“It’s also why Mica got on my case a few days ago. Because I should’ve said something before someone else did. But I’m too late.”

He gives me a sad smile then shrugs.

“Ignis may be what he is, but he seems to really care for you. Like you do for him. So as long as you’re happy, I’m happy too.”

I sniff and rub at my eyes to stop the tears from falling. But they come anyway. I haven’t seen this Mason, the gruff but sincere guy I’ve known for the longest, in a while. The Mason I went to when I’m tackling something Mica may not be able to help with. I’m so stupidly happy to have him back, that I’m not surprised when my laughter comes out watery, but light.

“You dork,” I say. “You know I’ll always be your friend, right?”

Mason chuckles then wraps me in a hug, rocking me back and forth. Like he used to do when we were kids.

“Yeah, I know.”

After splashing my face with cold water in the restroom, we leave the arcade for his truck and climb inside with the others. Mason sits in the driver’s seat while I claim the empty seat behind him. Beside Ignis.

“Everything alright?” Mica asks.

I meet Mason’s gaze in the rearview mirror and smile.

“Yeah, we’re good.”

My smartphone starts to vibrate and I pluck it out of from my coat pocket. The screen displays ‘Dad’ in bold, white print. I answer the call with a swipe of my thumb and let Dad know we’re on our way.

Mason drives us back to the motel and I see a familiar, dark blue hatchback in the parking lot. When we park a few spaces away from it, Dad steps out and locks his car. He waves at the twins just as his eyes settle on the backseat. His gaze hardens when he sees Ignis. And in turn, Ignis tenses. But he relaxes when I reach over and twine my fingers with his.

“We’ll be okay,” I tell him. “Promise.”

Ignis squeezes my hand back and looks down at me. He gives me a warm, closed-mouth smile then unlocks the door on his side.

We climb out, Ignis carefully helping me step onto the ground with our hands connected. Dad watches us without saying a word, keeping his eyes trained on Ignis the whole time. To keep the fragile peace, I let go of him to take the lead. As I walk closer, the hard lines of Dad’s face soften and he opens his arms for me. My forehead bumps into the top of his shoulder as his arms squeeze me tightly.

“Thank goodness you’re safe,” he breathes against my hair.

He hugs me a bit closer and I almost feel like a little girl again.

“Like I said before, I had help.”

As I step out of Dad’s embrace, Ignis comes to stand beside me with a neutral expression. Even though Ignis is about half a head taller and broader than him, Dad isn’t affected by their differences.

“You must be Ignis,” he says.

Ignis replies with a slow nod that looks too tense to be comfortable. Having them reach common ground is possible; I just have to think and act carefully.

“Dad.” I reach out touch his arm. “Can we all talk somewhere in private?”

Thankfully, he agrees. But his distrustful expression makes me gnaw at my bottom lip, even after Mica attempts to run interference by offering the key to her hotel room. I’m scared what I say won’t matter in the end since Dad has voiced his dislike of Ignis since day one. But I have to try. Because I don’t want to choose between two of the most important people to me.

So, I steel myself when Mica leaves the motel room and Dad closes the door. He walks over to the table, takes a seat, and gestures for Ignis to take the remaining chair. That leaves me with the edge of my made bed, where I take off my coat.

“Simone,” Dad says, his voice adamant.

“Yes, sir?”

“You already told me what happened back at the house,” he says, crossing his arms. “But I want to hear it from him.”

My stomach flips; this isn’t what I planned at all. Ignis settles further into his chair and clears his throat.

“Then would you mind,” he begins, “if I told you my full story? Including what led us all here to this moment?”

“Go right ahead.”

Ignis does. He starts at the beginning, with how he was the cause of his own capture. How he was exchanged numerous times over the years for gold. How his one human friend died as a gladiator and how he found himself in early America. Then, how he met Nana.

“Abigail showed fearlessness and compassion when she encountered me in the woods that day,” Ignis says. “Even after all my attempts to scare her away. It was those traits, and her resourcefulness, which made me fall in love with her.”

Dad’s eyes widen at that last statement, but he quickly schools his expression.

“So what went wrong?”

“Me,” Ignis says, bowing his head. “I let my anger and jealousy overcome me, and became a genuine threat to this town. I threatened to burn it and its inhabitants to the ground because Abigail loved another. She upheld the common good by sealing me away that day. If I were to spend the rest of time trapped there, it would have been a just punishment.”

Ignis’ gaze warms over and he smiles.

“But Simone arrived and broke down my barriers with patience and understanding. It’s due to her that I felt like myself, like an equal, even during the last days of my imprisonment. So is it surprising, that when she was in danger, I used every bit of my power to save her?”

Dad rubs his temples and lets out a silent sigh, frowning.

“I will be forever grateful that you saved Simone,” he says. “But with all due respect, why should I trust you, especially with my daughter? You threatened to incinerate an entire town full of innocent people. All because you didn’t get what you want.”

Every part of me is screaming to do something, to get up and defend Ignis, to try and explain our time back at Nana’s house.

“You’re right,” Ignis says.

His head is raised and his whole demeanor is completely calm with no trace of rigidness in his body. He meets Dad’s stare head on.

“Even before my capture, I only cared about myself and my own interests. That didn’t change while I was trapped in the flask. And as much as I came to care for Abigail, I fell back into my old habits and lashed out for my own personal gain.”

His eyes find mine and he gives me a gentle smile, one that makes my heart pound.

“But if given the chance, I will prove myself a thousand times over. All for Simone.”

I let out the breath my lungs hold in a quiet rush and take in more air. The action somewhat snaps me out of my daze. Dad’s long sigh clears away the last of it.

“Fine,” he says. “I’ll give you a chance.”

Dad stands and pushes his chair under the table. He starts heading for the door, but pauses to clap his hand onto Ignis’ shoulder.

“But if you screw up, I will find a way to extinguish you. Permanently.”

“There’s no need,” Ignis says. “If I do waste my opportunity, I’ll gladly do it myself.”

After a tense moment, Dad nods. Then, he turns my way.

“I’ll book a room so that when the station calls, you won’t have to collect your things by yourself. And Ignis is coming along too, correct?”

Ignis’ stunned expression falls away. He smiles.

“Of course.”

Satisfied, Dad heads out and closes the door with a soft click. I flop onto my bed, grunting as my back hits the fresh covers.

“So glad that worked out,” I murmur.

“As am I,” Ignis says.

I pause. Because his voice sounds much closer than expected. I shimmy up into a slight crunch then prop myself up on my elbows. He’s standing at the foot of the bed with a teasing smirk stretching his lips. The same one from earlier, in fact. Molten heat pools in my lower belly as his eyes roam over my body.

“You look like you’ve got something planned,” I say with a smirk of my own.

“Only if you agree to it.”

Before I can answer, my phone buzzes. And I can’t stop the laugh that bubbles up because of Mica’s text.

“Intercepted your Dad after he checked in and invited him to lunch with us. I’ll bring back food, you’re welcome, and give me details later.”

I toss my phone onto Mica’s bed and grin up at Ignis.

“Since we’ve got time,” I say, shedding my winter boots, “you should finish what you started.”

His ruby red eyes flash as he removes his leather jacket.

“Gladly.”

[ikesenlemonadestandstories]

Level 28

Why are there so many chapters! What is happening!? I hope you guys are at least enjoying them all! 

Tagging: @loudartanimeeclipse and @ihavenotfallenyet

Master List

Warnings: none?

Happy reading! Hope you’re all well honey bees!

Level 28

With all of your documents now added neatly to the file Ieyasu had provided yesterday, you marched yourself from your lab towards the meeting room outside the BMT offices. Laptop in hand, you quickly set the place up and made sure your connection was excellent; the last thing you wanted was any technical difficulties.

Dr. Tokugawa and Dr. Togo arrived right on time and took seats that faced each other but were still in line with the screen. You started with a greeting that was largely ignored and kept on rolling with the critical information. A vast majority of the info Ieyasu and Mariko needed to know was about the markers being used. If even one of them were potentially affected by the drug study, you’d have to add a tube of additional markers to the assay or revise one of your tubes—neither of which you wanted to do at the moment.

“Very well done (YN),” Dr. Togo complimented, “the marker combinations work out perfectly. I especially like the addition of thirty-eight and one twenty-three to a few of the tubes.”

“I’ll agree, it’s very comprehensive and takes most of the drug studies available into account with your choice in markers.” Ieyasu followed his colleague.

“Ah, for that, you’ll have to thank the hematopathologist team. They picked the markers.” You deferred, making sure to give appropriate credits.

“Either way, that gating strategy is yours, is it not?” Ieyasu quirked an eyebrow as he stared you down.

“It is, I was trying to make the data points easier to differentiate, so I chose gates that pulled the monocyte and myeloid populations apart from each other and the rest of the lymphatic cells.” You answered.

“It’s wonderful.” Mariko smiled at you from her spot across the table. “I’m hoping you had time to read over the drug study information?”

“I did go through it last night.” You nodded, “It’s an interesting paper.”

“We’re hoping to start enrolling patients as soon as possible. How long do you think it will take to get this specific test validated?” Ieyasu pressed.

“That depends. Since we’re currently in the process of validating it, I’ve been running split samples. Could we start off by acquiring samples for me to run? I can cross-check them with the results from other institutions who’s tests are already validated.” You paused, “If we do this with each patient who has an AML diagnosis, I should get enough data for the pathologists to look at by the end of the month.”

“Sounds great, we’ll look forward to hearing from you soon then.” Mariko grinned as she made a motion to stand.

“We’ll meet back up in a month.” Ieyasu nodded in your direction, following his co-worker out of the meeting room.

You guessed that meant it was over? Breathing a sigh of relief, you sent a message to your supervisor before unhooking all your equipment and leaving the meeting room. That hadn’t taken very long, but sometimes that was a good thing. They knew what they wanted and needed, which meant you had unambiguous instructions for once. Excited, you shot off a text message to Yoshimoto and hustled back to the lab to fill Rose in.

→ Got a new work project! → Excited to tell you all about it :) Wonderful news. I look forward to hearing about it. ←

The excitement faded though the more details you gave Rose, you didn’t understand why it was such a big deal that you were working with Dr. Tokugawa. Your not a date, date crasher, as Rose fondly referred to him. Markio Togo was also on the project, and you’d already had more correspondence with her than your current date’s supposed love rival. First, you’d been annoyed, but not the only thing you were worried about was that Yoshimoto would be upset? Why would he, though? Ugh!

Groaning to yourself, you took an angry sip of your water and waited for your date to arrive. This would never have been a problem if you hadn’t talked to Rose, it’s like she enjoyed pulling you out of your comfort zone. YOu were so wrapped up in thought you didn’t even notice when Yoshimoto sat down.

“I thought it was good news?” He tried, leaning towards you cautiously.

“AAHHhhHh!” you yelped, nearly spilling your drink as you apologized frantically to all of the startled dinner patrons throughout the restaurant. “Don’t do that. You scared the crap out of me.”

“I can see that.” Yoshimoto chuckled as he gently folded his hands on the table. “So, news?”

“Oh, right. So, I uh, our lab got picked to run tests for a new treatment drug.” You started.

“That’s fantastic; I assume that’s going to keep you busy at work?” Yoshimoto shared a genuine smile.

“It should. It has been. They want to use the assay I’ve been working on for the past year to look at disease levels in patients.” You explained.

“If it’s good news, why do you look so sour?” Yoshi pressed on.

“Eh, it’s just sort of weird? You spend tons of time developing a test and working on getting it validated, but when people ask to use it, or you get to see it in action doing a cool thing, it makes you feel a weird mix of pride and horror.”

“Oh, do explain.” He cocked his head to the side and listened.

“Clearly I’m smart enough to navigate my way through assay development, but sometimes you just sit there and wonder why they let you do stuff that’s as important as this. Yanno?” You posed the question, not expecting an answer.

“Well, I can assure you I’m more apt to trust something a friend recommends. I’m sure your test is magnificent.” Yoshimoto complimented. “Besides, they wouldn’t have picked it if they didn’t see some practical use for it.”

“That’s true, Dr. Togo and Tokugawa know what they’re doing. You don’t become experts in a field by poking around doing nothing all day.” You sighed, body relaxing a little after the pep talk.

Though the roles seemed to be reversed now, where you had been able to relax, Yoshimoto seemed to have been wound a bit tighter. You cursed that Rose had been right and tried to play it off. If you kept going and tried your hardest not to be awkward, it wouldn’t get awkward. Right? Wrong.

“Dr. Togo? Dr. Tokugawa? Are you going to be working with them closely on this project.” Yoshimoto asked.

“Probably, though, I don’t know why I’d see them any more than I already do, though, maybe for development updates and data review meetings.” You shrugged, sensing the weird atmosphere. “They’re a weird team, but they balance out nicely, where Ieyasu falls short in most social situations Mariko picks up the slack. Meetings are interesting, but productive.”

“Ah, I see.” Yoshimoto was short, but his tone was light as he continued to listen to what you had to say.

“I’ve been tasked with getting the test validated by the end of the month, so as long as I have enough samples, they plan to keep me busy.” You chuckled, rubbing at the back of your neck.

“A shame, I had planned to ask you to several engagements.” Yoshimoto stated.

Was he pouting? It was literally going to be a month, and it’s not like you were going to take up living in your lab while you worked on the project, so why was he acting super weird? Was it just because you had mentioned Ieyasu? Suddenly you were agitated all over again, this wouldn’t have been a problem if Rose had kept her mouth shut and hadn’t told anyone who you’d been crushing on, but you also didn’t understand why it was a big deal in the first place. You’d been going out with Yoshimoto hadn’t you?

“You can still ask me about those engagements, you know.” Your face fell, and your voice showed your agitation.

“I don’t believe it wise to get in the way of your work.” Yoshimoto sensed the change in mood and moved forward, trying to close some of the space.

“It’s not your job to decide what does and doesn’t distract me from doing my work. It’s never been a problem before, why would it be a problem now?” You asked, tone cold.

“Right you are. Shall we order then? I’ll let you know about the events as they come.” Yoshimoto smiled, but you were too over the conversation to return it.

“Whatever.” It was the last thing you remembered saying the rest of the meal.

[tonystarkissist]

IronDad Bingo Fic #4

Trope: Clingy

Tony had been completely minding his own business when it happened.  He was humming along to the low volume of KISS playing in his shop, being completely innocent and unprovoking. The music wasn’t loud in the least, thanks to Peter’s sensitive ears, and they were both doing their own thing. He didn’t even know what in the world had come over the kid to provoke him to do what he did.

So, yeah, he was just doing his own, peaceful, little thing, engrossed into his own little world - humming and tapping his foot to the beat while tinkering on a new robot arm for Dum-E - when he felt a large mass collide into his back. He pitched forward with a misstepped stumble and yelped loudly in surprise as he desperately tried to balance himself with the sudden weight clinging to his back.

In a moment of pure panic, fueled by his instinctual fight-or-fight instincts, he whirled himself around harshly, in an attempt to throw the intruder off his back. It didn’t work, but a round of unmistakable giggles erupting from the added mass of weight helped calm his overactive heart rate.

“Geez kid,” he groaned, voice laced with annoyance, hands busy rubbing down his face as he urged himself not to get frustrated.

Peter’s only response was another bout of giggles as he adjusted himself. His arms were draped neatly over Tony’s shoulder, clasping together firmly above the man’s collarbone, and his legs were wrapped tightly around the man’s waist.

“Kid, you’re gonna break my back. I’m too old for this,” Tony grumbled, turning back down to his project, assuming the kid would cut with the shenanigans and get off him. He usually listened…

“Aw, c’mon Mr. Stark. You’re no fun. You know you can hold my weight.” Peter laughed tightening his arms around Tony’s neck for emphasis as he adjusted himself into a position that wasn’t threatening the man’s sense of balance, which would result in them both keeling over. The genius felt a chin land harshly atop his head and he rolled his eyes at the childish action.

“I’m an old man Pete. I can’t carry the weight of an entire teenager, it’s not good for my bones.”

“Oh please,” Peter scoffed, “you and I both know I’m only like 70 pounds because of my hollowness. You bench much more than that.”

Tony rolled his eyes again and grabbed for a screwdriver lying across the table, finding it much easier to maneuver around than he would have thought with a 70lb weight hanging off his back.

“Plus,” Peter continued excitedly, “I’m conducting an experiment, and I know you can never say no in the name of science.”

“Yet, here you are still attached to my back instead of off doing that very thing.”

“This is my experiment Mr. Stark!” Peter laughed outright, right into his ear.

“So, you’re testing how quickly my patience runs out are ya?” Tony teased back, smiling as Peter presses his face into his hair to muffle the giggles.

“Nope! Shuri dared me that I couldn’t stick to something for a whole 24 hours, and I thought it might be a good hypothesis to test, y’know?”

“Hmm,” Tony hummed offhandedly, not quite piecing it together.

“So, instead of just sticking to a random wall for a whole 24 hours, I thought I might stick to something that moves so that I won’t get too bored staring at the same thing for so long. Plus you don’t like it when I climb on your ceilings so…”

“So you decided it was a good idea to latch onto my back?” Tony finished, arching his brow suspiciously. He didn’t like not being able to see the kid’s face.

“Yeah, Shuri thought it was a funny idea. She double-dog dared me to actually stick to you, and y’know, I can’t turn down a double-dog dare… Plus, she said she’d let me hang out in her lab if I actually did it and I just can’t pass up that kind of opportunity Mr. Stark.”

“Did she now?” Tony sighed, already resigning to his fate. It wasn’t like he had anything better to do.

“Yep,” Peter smiled, resting his chin atop Tony’s head again while he watched him work, “plus I get a piggy-back ride out of it.”

“How old are you?” Tony questioned patronizingly.

“Fifteen!” Peter answered proudly, flicking the underside of Tony’s chin just to annoy him.

“I figured as much,” Tony muttered under his breath, walking a few steps to his left to pull up a holographic screen. “Why didn’t you go stick to Cap? He’s better built for a 24-hour long piggyback ride.” It was a low blow, and Tony could practically hear the disgusted grimace from the kid.

“Na,” the boy answered, “Shuri said it specifically had to be you. She said she wanted to patronize you through me.”

“Figures.”

“Don’t be like that Mr. Stark,” Peter smiled, “this’ll be fun.”

“Yeah, sure, I don’t think so.”

***

It didn’t take much longer than an hour for Tony’s back to start feeling the effects. So, in an effort to keep the Spiderkid pleased, and to keep his back from completely giving out, he set up a weird, two seated stool type thing. He pulled the two stools together, and according to Peter it wouldn’t be cheating as long as he was still using his sticky powers to stay latched to his back, so they did that for another couple hours.

To be honest, Tony was actually surprised at the kid’s resilience. He would have predicted for Peter to have become bored by the two hour mark, but nope… the kid kept firm in his ambition. His legs remained wrapped around Tony’s waist as he sat in the stool behind him, and his arms dropped from his shoulders to circle around his chest as he slumped forward tiredly in the chair. By hour two, Peter’s forehead was nuzzled into the center of his spine as he snoozed, and Tony simply continued on tinkering, finding slight comfort in the small vibrations of Peter’s contented humms reverberating through his back.

By hour three, Peter’s soft snores and rhythmic humming came to an abrupt stop, which was followed by an insistent grumbling from his stomach.

“Hey, Mr. Stark,” Peter interrupted softly, using one of the arms wrapped around his chest to tap the tip of his finger on the man’s collarbone to get his attention.

“What’s up Pete? Finally gonna give up with this nonsense?”

“No,” Peter answered through a big yawn, “if you’re back’s feelin’ better, ‘m just a little bit hungry… whenever you got time.”

Tony shook his head humorously at the kid’s antics.

“Alright, just let me finish up with this real quick and we can head up for some dinner.”

“Kay,” Peter hummed softly, pressing his cheek back against Tony’s spine. “How long was I ‘sleep?”

“About two hours perhaps,” Tony answered noncommittally, standing from the seat slightly to reach across the table to grab the desired tool. Peter just went right along with him, without an inch of effort on either of their parts.

“Cool,” Peter mumbled, trying to repress the grin, “only 21 more hours to go.”

“You sound rather happy about that squirt,” Tony accused him.

“You are a really comfy pillow.”

***

They were approaching hour four rather quickly when Tony finally hobbled off the stool, with a snoozing Peter firmly attached to his back, and headed towards the elevator.

“The things I do for this kid,” he muttered under his breath, glancing down at the four limbs wrapped around his upper body and rolling his eyes. It was like wearing a ridiculously heavy backpack.

He strolled into the main Living Space, purposefully ignoring the strange looks he received from Rhodey and Sam sitting on the couches as he passed. Sam’s face was priceless, by the way. Utter shock and confusion was always a great combination.

“Uh, Tones,” Rhodey called out pointedly, not quite as surprised as Sam, but just about as confused.

“What’s up Honeybear?” Tony asked offhandedly, throwing open the fridge while Rhodey approached him and Peter from behind.

“Um, well,” Rhodey chuckled, “it looks like you gotta little passenger hitching a ride.”

“Oh yes,” Tony replied sarcastically, “how could I forget the 70 pound weight on my back?”

Rhodey raised an eyebrow at him and soon Sam was joining them in the kitchen, mouth agape as he stared at Peter snoozing against his back.

“Fine,” he muttered, turning to face them, “He wanted to do an experiment to see how long he could stick to something and Shuri dared him to stick to me for 24 hours. He’s bad at turning down dares, and I’m bad at putting my foot down when it comes to science.”

That reasoning seemed to appease Rhodey, and the man shrugged offhandedly before returning back to kitchen, but Sam just stared at him as if he were crazy… and he probably was honestly.

“Hey,” Tony addressed, turning slightly to expose his and the kid’s side to the man, “poke him a bit, would ya? I need to know what he wants for dinner.”

***

By hour six, Tony had found it was easier to carry the kid’s weight as long as he was moving. Peter also found easy ways to redistribute his weight to make the whole ordeal that much more comfortable for both parties. So, Tony just made sure to keep himself moving around his workshop when he wasn’t sitting on the stool.

Then, Peter had somehow convinced him to take a visit down to the gym. ‘Change of scenery’ and all that. So, at hour seven, Tony found himself doing pushups and throwing measly punches at a bag in the corner of the room. It was strange similar to wearing the suit without any the extra strength. Which… wow, made it a major workout for sure. Turned out, adding seventy pounds to your body weight while trying to do pushups decreased your reps by almost half. It was nice having his own personal cheerleader though.

That sucked up about another hour of their time, and Tony was feeling exhausted yet invigorated all the same. It left him sweaty and breathless, and Peter fanboying over his abilities without the suit.

But that led to another problem at hour 8 and a half.

“Peter I have to take a shower. I’m all sweaty and stinky, do you really want to stick to a stinky old man for the next 16 hours? Didn’t think so. Off you get.”

“Aw, c’mon, Mr. Stark. That’s breaking the rules. I have to stick to something for a complete 24 hours.”

“Well, you should have thought of that before you rushed me down to the gym.”

“I was bored!” Peter defended with a squeaky lilt to his voice, “I wanted a change of scenery.”

“Well, you got it. Now stick to something else for the 10 minutes it takes me to shower. It’s not technically cheating your experiment, and I won’t tell Shuri if you don’t.”

“Fine,” Peter grumbled.

Tony rolled his eyes and backed himself up to the far wall in his bedroom. Peter’s limbs slowly detached from him and he pulled away, rolling his shoulders and turned to look at the pouting child. It was hilarious.

“Ooh, feels good,” Tony joked, giving an exaggerated stretch to his free arms and shoulders, “no spiderkid to carry around.”

Peter glared at him, and Tony grabbed clean clothes before retreating into the bathroom to take his shower.

***

Hour eleven rolled around and it was nearly two in the morning. Peter was slouching against him again, and Tony was back at it in his workshop. He was used to long binges with days without sleep, so it wasn’t a very big change of pace for him. The only problem that arose was his need to sit on the dual stool every hour or two to rest his back. He swears there will be muscles he never even knew existed sprouting soon. Pepper was sure going to have some fun with that.

Peter fell asleep almost right at the halfway mark and Tony was only slightly impressed by the spidery powers still going strong. By then he was already used to the constant contact, and he was honestly becoming quite curious as to how long the kid was able to stick to something, and he wasn’t about to give up when they were already halfway through. Peter just slouched against him again, arms wrapped over his shoulders, and chin digging into the space joining his neck and shoulder while Tony was standing in front of the holographic screens. When he sat in the stools, the kid would almost melt down his back. His arms fell from his shoulders and wrapped beneath his arms, across his chest, and his cheek found its spot against his spine.

He slept for a good straight 3 to 4 hours before Tony accidentally woke him with a loud bang. He’d dropped a heavy piece of machinery, startling both him and the kid from his sleep. He scrambled in surprise just enough to have Tony himself pitching forward at the sudden misdistribution of their combined weight. He braced himself against one of his lab tables while Peter calmed down. Then the kid apologized profusely before Tony was sitting back in the stool, coaxing him back to sleep, and soon the soft purr-like humms were back to vibrating against his back.

At hour sixteen, Peter was still asleep, and Tony was ready for breakfast. It was seven in the morning, which meant Steve was up and already cooking. So Tony thought it would be the perfect time to sneak up and steal two platefuls before all the food disappeared.

He opened his mouth wide to release a big yawn as he stepped out of the elevator onto the main floor. Then glanced around at the random placement of his teammates lounging comfortably in the large room.

“Good morning Stark!” Thor boomed loudly, startling Tony out of his wits and causing Peter to stir momentarily against his back.

“Shhh,” Tony urged angrily, pressing an index finger to his lips. “The kid’s sleeping. Hush.”

The admittance drew the attention of everyone else in the room, and they all turned to stare.

He had to admit… it must have been an odd sight. They’d only met Peter a handful of times, and none of them knew about his spider-powers yet. What an odd sight indeed.

“Is that-is that um... Peter?” Steve questioned warily, raising an eyebrow suspiciously as Tony rounded the counter and approached the mountain of food the man had cooked up.

“Yep, he’s testing out an experiment right now. Leave him alone, he’s asleep, and he’s quiet. It’s peaceful.”

“You’re just… um… carrying him around on your back?” Clint questioned from his perch on the counter.

“Yeah. Got a problem with it?” Tony snarked without looking away from the coffee pot he was tampering with.

���Nope,” Clint hurriedly defended, “no problem.”

“Great. Be a pal and fix him a big ol’ plate, huh Cap?” Tony instructed, piling on the eggs and bacon onto his own plate before shovelling it into his mouth.

“Uh-uh yeah sure.”

By the time Steve was done fixing the plate, Tony had already cleared his. He traded with the supersoldier, shoving his newly dirtied plate into his confused hands, and grabbing both the plate and mug of coffee before turning to exit the room.

“Hey, Tones,” Rhodey called nonchalantly from the Dining table, as if the sight of a child stuck to the genius’ back was a completely normal appearance. And considering the odd things Rhodey’s caught them doing in the past, this really wasn’t very outlandish. “When are you free from the kid’s experiment. DC wants me and you for a quick debrief this evening.”

“I’m off at 3:07 I think.”

“Great, meeting at 5 then. Don’t forget.”

Tony shot him a mock salute before scampering over to the elevator with Peter still peacefully asleep on his back.

***

Peter finally awoke at hour eighteen. It was a slow process.

Tony first noticed the wiggling and slight stretching about 10 minutes before he actually awoke. Then, he heard the distinct sound of smacking lips and annoyed grunts as he attempted to stretch his limbs, which led to him knocking the screwdriver out of Tony’s hand a couple times. Soon, the kid was sighing and nuzzling his face into his shoulder blade to hide from the morning light.

“Welcome back to the land of the living kid,” Tony laughed, taking a seat on his stool.

“Hng,” Peter grumbled irritatedly.

Not a morning person apparently.

***

Peter wasn’t fully awake and ready to start the day until hour nineteen. He devoured the food Tony left out for him using one hand and he immediately jumped back into his excitable, talkative self once food was in his belly.

“What time is it now Mr. Stark?”

“We’re still going strong at 19 hours kiddie if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“So, only five more hours then?”

Tony could have sworn he sounded sad, but his ears were probably just playing stupid tricks on him again.

“Yep, five more hours until we’re both free.”

Peter just rested his chin on top of Tony’s head, curled against his back, watching as the man messed around with the holographic images in front of them, coffee in one hand, and his tablet in the other. Peter put in his input where it was needed, and the small project kept them both occupied for another hour or so.

***

By hour 21, Peter was bored again, and Tony wasn’t having it.

“C’mon Mr. Stark,” he whined, “pleeaaasse?”

“No,” Tony snapped with an air of finality, “I’m already letting you cling to me for a straight 24 hours. I am not going to run around like an idiot and give you a freaking ‘legit piggyback ride’. You’re fifteen not five, now shush and let me do my work.”

“Whatever Dad,” Peter sassed, rolling his eyes. He plopped his chin on the man’s shoulder and pouted for a good ten minutes while Tony worked.

“Oh my god. Fine!”

“Yes!”

***

Everyone probably thought he was crazy, for sure. It was time for lunch already, and Peter was fully awake, excited and completely jittery. He was practically vibrating, and Tony knew because he could feel it. The vibrations were reverberating against his chest and he could almost feel himself get a bit nauseous at the constant motion.

He’d admit they were eating lunch fairly late… but Peter had had a late breakfast, so at 2:00, they were both ready for a proper meal.

And it just so happened that everyone decided to be lazy that day and hang around reading, drawing or… apparently playing go fish?

Peter didn’t seem to notice the mass of nosey ears that tuned into their conversation when they entered. He rambled on about his recent science adventures in Chem class and the ridiculous questions that were brought up in his Calc class, and Tony nodded along.

“Still going at it I see?” Natasha smirked, looking up from her book to smile warmly at the pair.

“Woah! Hey!” Peter’s eyes bugged out when he saw the group on the couch. “What’s up guys?”

Tony rolled his eyes and started shuffling into the kitchen, wincing at the uncomfortable pinch that had developed in his lower back. He only had another hour to go though, so he could deal with it.

“Hi Peter,” Natasha responded, her mischievous grin growing along her face. Tony glared at her, but Peter seemed indifferent to it, throwing himself right back into his in depth explanation about Ned’s new Lego Star Wars set. Completely oblivious to the fact that it might be considered a little weird for a fifteen year old intern to be getting what looked to be a ‘piggy-back’ ride from his mentor.

Tony swore the team didn’t stop staring.

***

“3:07” Tony announced quickly, “off you get kid.” He rolled his shoulder a bit for emphasis.

Peter grumbled as he slowly climbed off of the man’s back, and Tony moaned happily at the release of tension.

“Don’t sound so happy about it, geez.” Peter sounded offended as he stretched his own limbs.

“Oh please,” Tony scoffed, “I carried your weight, literally, for an entire 24 hours. Any person would be happy to weigh 70 pounds less.” He rolled his neck around in a slow circle, then bent his back backwards to stretch out the muscles. “You coulda started me out at just an hour or two at least before dumping the entire 24 hour pack on me. Goodness kid, I’m gonna feel this all week.”

“Sorry.” Peter actually sounded a bit sheepish.

Tony turned around to look at the apologetic kid wringing his hands together while he stared down at his socked feet.

“I-I didn’t mean to hurt you or make you uncomfortable.”

“Don’t sweat it kid,” Tony smiled reassuringly, “I’d go through a lot more for the sake of a dare… or science.”

“Dare?” Peter asked confusedly, cocking his head to the side.

Tony narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously. “Yes… Shuri’s dare… the whole reason you had to stick to me instead of something normal or reasonable... like a wall.”

“Oh,” Peter muttered, eyes widening, “oh yes! Of course! I don’t know how I forgot.”

“Sure,” Tony muttered suspiciously. “Now, why don’t you go skedaddle and go share your findings with your pal. I’ll vouch for you if you need it.”

“Oh! Yeah, okay, sure!” Peter stumbled, grinning slightly as he scampered out of the room with a quick wave and shout of ‘thanks’.

***

Tony didn’t find out the whole truth until weeks later after the effects of the incident had worn off his back and shoulders.

He had called Shuri for some input on his new suit design, and somehow the subject of Peter had come up.

“So, did you feel good sticking a 70 pound kid to my back for a whole day?” Tony joked offhandedly for sake of conversation while he inputted variables into his suits coding.

“Excuse me? What nonsense are you talking about this time Stark?” She questioned incredulously.

Tony blinked and turned to stare at the screen.

“The experiment… the dare,” he responded slowly, studying her face for any flicker of recognition. “The experiment to find out how long Peter can stick to something… a week ago.”

Shuri’s face lit up at that. “Oh that! The one where he dared himself like an idiot? I swear he is such a dork,” Shuri laughed a little before looking back at the screen. “Where did he stick? A wall? The ceiling? I’m curious; he wouldn’t tell me the details.”

Tony slowly processed. Then his face hardened and his gaze snapped over to the overturned backpack slung across the kid’s designated desk.

“That little brat… he coulda just asked.”

So, this one was lots of fun!! Thanks for reading! And thank you again @irondadbingo for the bingo card! :)

[assassins-and-hidden-blades]

The Challenger Beats The Champion

Request: Hiya, since you mentioned you have no requests, I thought I'd suggest another I've been sitting on lately. I can imagine Jacob tricking Evie into a Fight Club (she thinks it's a barbaric form of entertainment) and the fighters patronise her into participating saying things like "it wouldn't feel right hittin' such a pretty little lass, anyway" - action ensues :)

A/N: Instead of Jacob tricking Evie, I did Jacob tricking the Reader, because let’s face it; we wanna be in every fic we can. This is also female!reader due to the intoxicating stench of the patriarchy, but I hope you enjoy it :D (I wanna try and make my fics more inclusive by specifying reader; if you want to request a male reader, then go ahead!

Requested by @marshmallow--3 :)

Jacob was pinned under you again.

“I said ‘no’.”

He let out a surprised scoff. “Why not?! You’ll win the crowd instantly!” You stood up, offering a hand to help him up. “It’s a barbaric form of entertainment! Evie agrees with me.”

“You don’t know what you’re missing, Love.” “I do; a load of pillocks beating each other to death--for fun! Doesn’t sound fun”

Jacob shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

He watched as you wiped the sweat off your face with a cloth. Your muscles rippled under your T-shirt, and he couldn’t help but admire how you can take down even the biggest brutes.

“Stop staring, Frye. Most women would freak out.” “But you aren’t like most women.”

You threw his cloth at his face, deterring him as your face heated up. “Shut up.”

He laughed at your shy smile, attempting to be hidden by your facade.

——————

You were busy maintaining your revolver when Jacob burst into your carriage, looking quite shaken up, clad in everything but his leather coat.

“Are you alright?” Standing up, you holstered your gun.

“Someone’s nicked my coat; it has everything in it.” He began pacing, dramatically pulling at his hair as he hides his face behind his hands.

“Show me where; I’ll help you find it.” At that, his face lit up, relieved.

“Thank you!” He grabbed your arm and dragged you out of the train and through the station, into the busy streets.

“How did your stuff get stolen in the first place?” you asked, briskly walking to keep up with Jacob’s worried pace.

“I don’t know; I had it there, and then when I turned around, it disappeared.”

As you walked, Jacob scoured the door numbers of each house, stopping in front of a door decorated with a wash of a subdued blue. “I think he went in here.”

“Well then, what are you waiting for?” “I haven’t got any weapons; don’t look at me!”

You sighed, rolling your eyes before you tested the knob. To your surprise, it opened. In a second, Jacob pushed you in and closed the door behind you, blocking your only way out. You turned around, about to tell him off, when you saw a Rook pass him his coat back. He grinned at you smugly.

“You’re a bastard.” “But I’m a charming bastard.”

“Yes,” you sighed. “Yes, you are.”

“Are you up for another round, Mister Frye?” An articulate voice snapped you back to the present, and you took a few moments to gauge your surroundings. It was a wide, busy room, filled with men of all backgrounds, most with beer in their hands, and some others shirtless and sweaty. The room had an awful stench of a mix with blood, sweat and probably results of uncontrollable bladders. The entrance stood at the top of a wide staircase, the bottom of which sat a boxing ring, where two opponents were fumbling around, blood pouring out of their mouths from a loss of teeth and where their cheeks have been torn open.

Jacob led you down the stairs. “Not today, Mister Topper; but my friend is.” You were not in the mood today, but as you opened your mouth to refuse, a brute of a man (who was lacking half his teeth) cut you off.

“Don’t waste your time on her, mate.” He clapped Topper on the back. “She’ll refuse; look at ‘er.” You were about to bite back, but he interrupted again. “Besides, wouldn’t feel right hitting such a... fragile lass anyway.”

Sensing your anger, Jacob dipped his head so his lips brushed against your ear. “My bet’s on you,” he breathed lowly, glaring at the man ahead of him.

You breathed. “I’d like to see you try, old man.” “You’re not leaving in one piece, you know that, right?” He sent you a sneer and puffed his chest out.

You shoved two fingers in his face, shredded your outer robes and weapons and heaved them into Jacob’s hands before heading to a corner of the ring. The man standing by looked nervous.

“What’s got your knickers in a twist?” You took a long strip of cloth from his hands and began to quickly wrap your hand.

“That old man is the undefeated champion, whether by being fair or cheating, that’s how it is. I fear that you’ve signed your own death warrant, madam.” “I’ll show him what a champion looks like.” You were about to reach for the other hand wrap when it was taken from the man’s hand. Jacob had taken it, and lightly grasped your free hand.

He began to wrap the cloth around your wrist. “Listen to me; this man is not someone to taunt.” You watched his hair fall in front of his face as you watched him intimately. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows (coat still discarded and hat elsewhere), and you couldn’t help but stare at the way his locks framed his face as he concentrated wholly on his task.

His lips were moving, but you couldn’t really understand what was coming out.

“Y/N/N, are you listening to me?” His hazel eyes locked with yours, and you swore you could see some sort of emotion other than snark in them. It was more of a worry, or concern. You bet he didn’t want you to go up against this guy on your first visit.

“Yeah, yeah; don’t taunt him. Got it.”

He exhaled through his nose. “I’ll be watching.” Without warning, his lips pressed against your forehead and he was gone in a blink.

You never talked about your feelings toward Jacob; the relationship just grew into one of affection without either one objecting. And that’s how it was.

But you had a feeling that the day to talk had come.

The children that had been cleaning the ring scampered off, and a bell began to trill. “Good luck, madam,” the man beside you said. “Thanks.” You dipped between the ropes and hoped for the best.

“Good afternoon, fight club!” Robert Topper greeted the crowd, who responded with cheers. “Today, we have a new challenger!”

You caught Jacob leaning against a pillar, arms crossed, fully ready to jump in if needed (although he was still dressed). It was true; he was observing closely.

“Let the fighting commence!” Topper made a beeline for the ropes as soon as the bell rang out again. The brute swaggered forward, smug as all hell. “I’ll let the pretty lass have the first--”

Your fist collided with his nose instantly, and he stumbled slightly, eyes watering at the impact. “Don’t look at me like that.” You readied your stance. “You asked for it.”

Somewhere, Jacob facepalmed.

With a growl, the brute stormed you, arm flailing towards you. You caught it, twisted him around and kicked him in the back, sending him in the opposite direction.

The crowd began jeering at him, and you heard people placing bets on the ‘Wonder Woman’.

You smirked. “Surprise.” The crowd laughed, and the so called ‘Champion’ began to lose his patience, and lunged at you. You thought you dodged a punch, but it was a feint and instead a hook went straight for your ribs. You moved back to recover, but the brute tripped you and sent your head to the floor with a loud smack.

You made every effort to roll past his oncoming strikes, pulling on the ropes to haul yourself up quicker.

Time to break your arm, old man.

He went on the offensive again, and you caught his upper arm and twisted it over you until you heard the familiar crack, beat him in the ribs, before throwing him to the ground. You rested your foot on his back.

“To be honest, that was easier than I thought.”

You turned to the crowd, where you witnessed Jacob neatly jumping onto the platform behind the ropes. “Nice going, but get out of the ring quickly.”

“Why?”

“They might think you want another round.”

“No thanks.” You walked towards him and you were about to dip under the rope before a hand wrapped around your ankle and yanked it. Your hand grasped Jacob’s arm as you lost your balance. The brute you left dazed seemed to want revenge. “Fuck off, mate; we’re done here. No round two today.” The referee came over, forced him to release you, and you got away without further inconvenience.

“I think I owe you an apology.” A Rook came over to hand you your clothing. You thanked him and began dressing.

“Yeah, you sure do. Let’s not come back here. I told you; barbaric.”

“You’re not wrong after today.” Jacob help you unwrap your hands. “But does it comfort you to know that this is the most competitive fight club in London? And you just beat the champion?”

“That is something, I suppose.” You both headed to the exit. “Can I get some ice before we go? My ribs really hurt.”

“‘Course; though I thought you didn’t want to spend another second in this manhole?”

“Ah.” You looked around at the growing rowdiness. “Good idea.”

As you left into the streets, you couldn’t help but wonder. “So... you make any money?”

“You made a fortune, love. Check your pocket.” You dipped your hand into your coat pocket to feel a thick wad of paper.

You couldn’t help but grow a smug grin. “You secretly loved it.” Jacob nudged you.

“What? No!”

You refused to look at him. “No, I hated every second.”

“Uh-huh, whatever you say.”

You laughed, grabbing his hand, walking back to the train station.