#unrelated but there’s SO much tickling that ends up happening where I work/live

[achilleean]

thrifted a Mr. Tickle enamel pin and it’s now a fixture on the fanny pack I wear as part of my uniform. why am I risking being called out/asked about it? who can say. he just belongs there.

[xutokawa]

aahh the s/o finding scratch marks is fulfilling my angst needs 😭🤚🏽 could u maybe do one with bokuto & suna 🥺 i love your writing so much!! xx

pairings: suna x reader, bokuto x reader

genre(s): fluff to angst, cheating

warnings: langauge, cheating

wc: 2.3k

» masterlist

a/n: thank you for your support! I tried adding more plot to it this time hehe. breaking bokuto’s heart broke mine bro :( hope you like it! also TYSM GUYS FOR 200 FOLLOWERS FDJSKF i love every single one of yu :D <3 mwah mwah mwah

atsumu and oikawa ver.

osamu and iwazumi ver.

kuroo and sakusa ver.

akaashi and hinata ver.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Suna

“Rin, hand me the soy sauce,” you asked, not looking up from the dish you were stir frying.

“Get it yourself,” Suna teased back. Rolling your eyes, you stuck out your hand. Laughing, Suna came up behind you, placing the bottle of soy sauce in your hands before wrapping his arms around your waist. His hands snuck under your shirt, laying on your bare stomach. You leaned back into his chest, sighing contently. The two of you rarely had time together anymore. While you were burying yourself in your work in hopes for a promotion, Suna was busy with practices that extended throughout the whole day. Both of you were exhausted by the time you came home to your apartment together, unable to muster the energy to do anything except fall asleep in each other’s arms.

“Mmm, you smell good,” Suna said, taking a deep breath into your neck.

“I think that’s the fried rice you’re smelling,” you joked back. Butterflies stormed your stomach as Suna’s hands gently massaged your sides. Even after living with the middle blocker for three years, he never failed to make you feel like a crushing high school student. Suddenly, Suna’s gentle hands grew antsy, teasingly tickling your sides. Jumping, you tell him, “Rin, stop! I’m going to spill something!”

“I think I’ll keep going,” Suna teased back, his hands continuing to tickle you. With one poke to your side, your entire body jerked, causing the soy sauce in your hand to fling into the air, and onto Suna’s shirt.

“Y/n! I really liked this shirt!” Suna whined. 

“That’s your fault, baby. I told you to stop,” you shrugged, laughing at his expression.

“Whatever, I’m going to go change,” Suna pouted, turning away.

As you finished cooking, you went into your shared bedroom to tell Suna dinner was ready. You were stopped in your tracks, however, when you saw his changing form. Back to you, long scratch marks ran down the length of his back. Scratches that were not put there by you. 

“R-rin, what is this?” You asked, voice beginning to waver.

Suna spun around, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights.

“Y/n! Why didn’t you knock?” Suna nervously asked, rushing to push his t-shirt over his head, “It’s nothing, babe, just uh, got in a fight!”

“Are you sure it was a fight? Or was it a late night in someone else's bed?” You asked accusingly, brows furrowing. Would your Suna cheat on you? You had felt pretty secure about your relationship before now, never having a reason to doubt your trust in your boyfriend. Yet, you couldn’t find it in yourself to make excuses for the lines raked down his back. 

Pain and guilt flashed across Suna’s eyes, and that’s when you knew. You were wrong to believe you gave him everything he needed in a relationship.

“Look, y/n, we can figure this out, just let me-” Suna began.

“Please, stop,” you choked out, eyes welling up with tears. The middle blocker felt his heart shatter watching you back away from him as if he were a plague. 

“No, you don’t understand! I can’t lose you like this,” Suna said, walking towards you, wanting nothing more than to pull you in his arms and wipe your tears away. He stopped in his tracks, however, when you flinched away from his touch, hatred flickering in your eyes. At that moment, Suna felt like the scum of the earth.

“Please, get away from me. Get out of this room, get out of this apartment! I don’t need your excuses,” You said, voice raising. When you finally looked up to meet Suna’s eyes, you found nothing but despair and regret. 

“No! I won’t leave you, y/n! You don’t understand how much I need-” Suna started.

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Rintarou,” you scoffed. The pain in Suna’s chest grew at the use of his full name.

“I-it’s Rin. You always call me Rin. Please, call me Rin,” Suna pleaded, voice beginning to shake, “Stop distancing yourself from me. I’m your Rin. Please, don’t leave. I’m so sorry, let me make it up to you!”

“You’re a pathetic piece of shit, Rintarou! Cheating on me and then begging for me to stay and forgive you? Tell me, what was your plan? Did you just want a quick fuck one night? Or did you plan to keep cheating on me for the rest of our relationship?” You angrily walked towards him. Suna watched as the love you once held in your eyes for him turned into agony. He felt himself crumple knowing he was the sole cause of your anger and hurt.

“No! It was a mistake! Please, let me make it up to you,” Suna reached for your hands, desperate to have you with him.

“The only mistake that was made here was me trusting you,” You said, spinning around as you headed for the door. Suna physically flinched at your words, hurt and shame flooding his body. Panic filled his mind at the sound of your keys jingling and the sound of you putting on your shoes.

“Wait! Y/n, where are you going? Please don’t leave, it’s not safe for you to go out right now. Just stay and let us talk about it,” Suna pleaded, walking up behind you.

“I’d rather be anywhere but here with you right now,” you coldly replied, reaching out for the door handle. Suna rushed to stop you from turning the knob.

“Please, y/n, I can’t handle you leaving me,” Suna whispered.

“Just leave it, Suna. No amount of begging or love can fix my trust for you,” you replied, back towards his sobbing figure. Suna finally fell to his knees in defeat as you walked out of the apartment, knowing he lost you forever.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Bokuto

“Ugh, I’m so ready to just relax,” you sighed out, dramatically splaying your arms across the center console in your fiancé’s car. A tingle ran up your spine at the sound of Bokuto chuckling from beside you, not taking his eyes off the road. You could never get used to his laugh, no matter how many times you’ve heard it.

“I know, baby. You deserve it,” Bokuto replied, taking one hand off the steering wheel to place on your thigh, giving a light squeeze. The two of you had been insanely busy the month leading up to this trip. From your boss’ unrelenting demands at work to your family’s constant nagging and opinions on your wedding decorations, the two of you just needed to catch a break. So, when Bokuto brought up the idea of a weekend beach trip, you immediately agreed, jumping up and down in excitement.

The beaming sun immediately warmed your skin as you stepped out of the car. Warmth spread through your body as you glanced back at Bokuto as he started pulling out your stuff from the trunk, looking up to flash you his smile you had fallen in love with ages ago. 

“You go on ahead and find a spot for us, I’ll follow in a second,” Bokuto called out to you. Giving a thumbs up, you started towards the gleaming ocean, excitement filling your body as you felt the sand beneath your feet. Finally, choosing a spot, you unfolded your beach chair, spreading your towel across the top. A smile settled on your face as you laid down, sunglasses shielding your eyes from the harsh rays. Your eyes drifted closed, the sounds of waves crashing and children giggling putting you in a serene state.

Bokuto chuckled at your appearance before setting up his own beach chair next to you, situating a beach umbrella between the two chairs. He felt his heart speed up as he gazed at your relaxing figure, wanting nothing more than to cover your face in kisses. The spiker felt so much love for you, so he felt nothing but confusion as to how he woke up in another person’s bed two nights ago, naked. His adoration for you was replaced with guilt. Bokuto still hadn’t figured out how to approach the situation, how to tell you without you breaking off the engagement. He wanted nothing more than to watch you walk down the aisle in a few months, than to have children running around the two of you as you prepared dinner, than to grow old with you by his side. Bokuto was still unsure of what happened that night to cause him to slip out of a random person’s apartment in his clothes from the previous night.

The spiker was shook from his thoughts at the sound of your voice. 

“Are you going into the water?” you asked, looking up at him.

“Yeah, I think I will just to cool off,” Bokuto replied, pulling his shirt over his head.

“Okay, I’ll join you in a bit, I just want to lay for a little longer,” you replied to him, closing your eyes again.

“Okay, baby. Take your time,” Bokuto said, placing a kiss on your forehead before starting towards the water. You giggled as you watched your fiancé run towards the ocean. Your laughter quickly died, however, once you saw his back.

Your eyes widen with a mixture of shock and confusion, racking your brain for an explanation for the long, red strips that lined your fiance's back, but, no matter how hard you thought, nothing came up. The past month had been too hectic for the two of you to ever get close to intimate. Tears began pricking your eyes as the realization that Bokuto had cheated on you settled in your mind. 

Does he know he has scratch marks on his back? Is this his subtle way of telling me he wants to end this? That I wasn’t enough for him?

As soon as Bokuto hit the ocean, the salty water stung his back. His initial confusion as to where the pain came from was quickly replaced with realization. He shot up at the water, turning to watch you get up from your seat. 

Maybe they didn’t see, he hoped. His hopes, however, were quickly crushed as his heart dropped to his feet. You began to gather your things, rummaging through Bokuto’s belongings until you found the keys to his car.

Panicking, Bokuto ran out of the ocean as fast as he could, cursing at the water for resisting his movements. He watched helplessly as you began walking back towards the parking lot. You saw. You saw the scratch marks, and now you were leaving Bokuto. The spiker’s worst nightmares were turning into a reality right in front of his eyes.

The dull shouting of your name from down the beach sounded in your ears. You ignored Bokuto’s incessant calls for you, the ache in your heart overpowering every emotion you were feeling. 

Bokuto ran through the sand as fast as he could, hoping to catch up to you before you left his life forever. His lungs and legs were screaming, but the pain was nothing compared to the pain of you leaving. Panic rose in his eyes as he watched you get into the driver's seat, starting the engine to his car. 

Wiping the tears from your eyes, you took a shaky breath, a weak attempt to try and calm your heart. You looked down at your engagement ring, memories of that night flashing through your mind, forcing another sob to rack your body knowing that your memories now meant nothing. Banging on the car window startled you as you looked up to find a panicked Bokuto. His frantic words were muffled as you watched him desperately attempt to stop you from leaving. 

“Please, y/n, roll down the window. Let me explain, please,” Bokuto blabbered, “Y/n, please don’t leave me, you have to let me explain. I love you! I want to marry you, and you only!”

Anger surged through your body as you scoffed at his words. Rage blinded your thoughts at the mention of your impending marriage. How dare he tell you he wants to get married after cheating on you? Your brain didn’t have time to process your movements as you pulled your ring off your left hand. You watched as a glimmer of hope flickered in Bokuto’s eyes as you began to roll down the window, only to have his eyes widen in pain and shock as you handed him your engagement ring.

“You’re really a piece of shit, Bokuto. You know that?” Tears began welling up in the spiker’s eyes as he stared at the piece of metal that laid in his hands. 

“No, y/n, please. Give me your hand, please,” Bokuto frantically pleaded, reaching for your hand. The ring in his hand belonged nowhere else except your ring finger. 

“Just stop, Bokuto, you’ve already ruined everything,” you scoffed out. As his eyes met yours, he was met with a whirlwind of hurt, shame, and pity. That’s when he realized. To you, he was pathetic. The love and adoration that made your eyes shine brighter than the sun was now replaced with hatred and pain, making them burn greater than the depths of hell.

Bokuto’s heart shattered into pieces knowing you would never love him the same, knowing he broke your trust. 

“I-,” Bokuto paused, unsure of what else he could say to get you back.

“I’m sorry, y/n” the man in front of you choked out. Bokuto felt helpless as he watched you roll up your window and drive away from him, leaving him in shattered pieces.

That night, when Bokuto finally returned to his shared apartment, the reality of the situation hit him. The empty aura filling the space that he used to share with you was all it took for Bokuto to fall onto his knees, becoming a shell of his former self. You were gone.

[august-anon]

We Can Try

Oh look it's my favorite trope again lol. So, this takes place when Aizawa and Mic are like, early 20s, so it's technically pre-canon to BNHA but I guess not pre-canon to the Vigilantes stuff? But I haven't read that yet so who knows if it lines up lol. Also, this has been done since like February, but I haven't posted it yet because there's supposed to be a sequel and I still haven't even started it after all these months lol. We'll see how soon it gets done

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Fandom: BNHA

Ship(s): EraserMic

Characters (lee/ler): Lee!Mic/Ler!Aizawa (brief Ler!Mic/Lee!Aizawa)

Word Count: 4345 words

Summary: Hizashi comes clean about something he's been craving for a long time, and Shouta is more than happy to assist. There’s just one problem... Hizashi’s convinced it won’t work.

[ao3 link]

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It didn’t take long after their confessions for Hizashi and Shouta to find themselves tangled together on the couch, lip-locked. Hizashi had honestly thought it would take far longer, considering Shouta’s preference to take things slow, but Hizashi certainly wasn’t complaining as Shouta’s kisses got more and more heated. Maybe being best friends for seven years before finally admitting to their pining removed a few steps from the equation.

Not that Hizashi wanted to go any further than making out that day. And luckily, it seemed as though Shouta was on the same page, so Hizashi didn’t feel any pressure as he slowly pushed Shouta onto his back and straddled his hips, changing the angle of the kiss. 

Shouta let out a tiny, pleased hum and Hizashi couldn’t suppress the bubble of joy in his chest, his smile almost breaking their kiss. Shouta reached up and gripped his hips, and it was Hizashi’s turn to gasp into Shouta’s mouth, trying to push himself even closer. Shouta’s hand slid under his shirt and up his bare back and Hizashi shivered, Shouta surging forward to swallow another little gasp escaping from his lips.

Damn, Hizashi thought. Where the hell did he learn to kiss like that?

Finally feeling a bit more stable in their new position, Hizashi moved his hands from where he’d been holding himself up on either side of Shouta’s head. He dragged them down Shouta’s chest and slipped them beneath the hem of his shirt, gently dragging his blunt nails up Shouta’s sides.

And then Shouta flinched and pulled away and the only thought running through Hizashi’s head was oh no, I fucked up.

But then Shouta’s quiet laugh filled Hizashi’s ears and his heart was thrumming for a reason entirely separate from fear. Though Hizashi was hesitant to think it so early on (although, was it really that early on when Hizashi had been falling for him for the better part of a decade?), a certain L-word came to mind at the gentle sound.

Hizashi was forced out of his reverie as Shouta’s squirming under him got more and more pronounced and his hands finally stopped squeezing his hips so that they could try and remove Hizashi’s hands from his sides.

“No tickling allowed!” He stuttered out through his giggles.

Hizashi grinned, trying to ignore the swooping in his stomach and the butterflies in his heart. He especially tried to ignore the mischievous, playfully predatory thoughts that were beginning to fill his head. While he didn’t remove his hands from Shouta’s sides, he did press them flat against the skin in an effort to stop the accidental tickling.

“Sorry,” Hizashi said, knowing he didn’t sound sorry in the slightest. “I honestly forgot you were ticklish, was it always that bad?” 

Shouta scowled and crossed his arms as best he could with Hizashi sitting on top of him with his hands buried under his shirt.

Hizashi bit his lip on his grin as the thought, I know how to make that smile come back, came to his mind entirely unprompted. He carefully kept his hands still and flat against Shouta’s skin.

“No,” Shouta bit out after a moment. “It was never that bad when the others got me.”

Hizashi couldn’t help how his grin widened. “Aw, babe! Are you saying I’m special?”

A light flush came to Shouta’s cheeks that was entirely unrelated to their previous activities and Hizashi let out a fond little coo on the tail end of a laugh. Shouta apparently decided that that was the last straw, and started trying again to push Hizashi’s hands out of his shirt.

“No, I’m saying you’re a nuisance.”

Hizashi bit his lip again. He could still see the traces of a smile in Shouta’s face. Though his mouth was stern and his jaw was set, his eyebrows weren’t all bunched up and the skin around his eyes was still crinkled as if he was smiling. That, plus the fact that he really wasn’t putting that much effort into shoving Hizashi away (seriously, the man could have Hizashi pinned to the ground in seconds, and yet was having trouble getting Hizashi’s hands out of his shirt? Hizashi called bullshit), assured him that Shouta was far from angry at the situation. In fact, it seemed like they were both still having fun.

So Hizashi made a calculated risk, hoping Shouta wouldn’t kill him for it later.

He let out a fake gasp and made the most overly dramatic affronted expression he could. “Is that any way to treat your boyfriend, Sho?”

Shouta’s eyes widened and he froze. “Wait, ‘Zashi--”

Hizashi did not, in fact, wait.

His hands immediately morphed back into claws, only this time the tickling was a lot more purposeful than before and Shouta was laughing a lot harder. His hands scrabbled weakly at Hizashi’s through the fabric of his shirt, but the effort was quickly abandoned as Shouta slammed his arms to his sides to prevent Hizashi from crawling any higher up his ribcage.

Hizashi could listen to Shouta’s laugh all day, if he could. It was a quiet sound, always making Hizashi go silent when he heard it so he could absorb it all. No matter how hard he laughed, it never got any louder, just more intense, and Hizashi almost thought it was funny how well Shouta’s laugh suited him.

Not to mention the smiles it drew out of him. Shouta rarely smiled for real, making good use of that feral smile full of shark teeth, a look he’d perfected in high school to scare off his bullies. Or, if he did smile for real, he would duck his head down and bury it in the capture weapon that was a near-permanent fixture around his neck.

But right now, that smile had nowhere to hide, and Hizashi was going to enjoy it to the fullest.

Deciding trying to get into Shouta’s underarms was a futile effort, Hizashi instead began moving his hands down. Shouta’s eyes widened again and Hizashi knew he was on the right track. He couldn’t help but let out an evil little chuckle, though he quickly fell silent again afterwards to continue relishing in Shouta’s laughter.

And then Shouta snorted when Hizashi reached his hips, bucking hard and squeezing his eyes shut. Hizashi dug in, sure he had found the jackpot and began to crow in delight, when suddenly he found himself as the one with his back to the cushions, Shouta crawling on top of him with a playfully threatening expression.

“You’re so dead, Mic,” he growled, though it wasn’t nearly as frightening as Shouta was probably going for, thanks to all his panting.

Hizashi gulped, feeling that swoop in his stomach once more, but it was quickly overpowered by his premature feelings of disappointment. He tried to mask it as Shouta leaned over him, keeping his smug grin firmly in place, but judging by the way Shouta narrowed his eyes, he could tell something was up.

Shouta hummed, leaning in closer. “Where are you ticklish then, ‘Zashi?” Shouta’s hands came to rest on his sides, fingers curled so the points pressed into his flesh. “If you tell me now, I might go easy on you.”

Hizashi flashed back to all the times Nemuri tried to tase his sides or ribs and failed, only serving to spook him and not make him laugh. To all the times Tensei grabbed at his knees, whether in revenge or to shut him up, and Hizashi didn’t even so much as twitch or crack a smile (well, at least not one related to the attempted tickling). To all the times the two (and even Shouta, on occasion) had dogpiled on top of him and dug tickling fingers into his flesh to try and win a tickle fight only to garner no reaction.

“I don’t know,” Hizashi said honestly, fighting to keep his face playful. “I don’t think I am, really.”

Shouta narrowed his eyes. “You may have been good at hiding it when we were younger,” he said, fingers twitching, “but there’s no damn way you aren’t ticklish.” 

And then Shouta punctuated the end of his sentence with a squeeze. It was probably timed to try and catch Hizashi off guard so he would laugh, but nothing happened. Hizashi felt his unbothered facade slipping.

“Told you, babe. I guess I’ll just be winning all the tickle fights in this relationship. Good thing you have the best laugh ever! I could listen to i--”

“Why do you sound disappointed?” Shouta said, blunt as ever.

Hizashi scrambled for a moment. He could lie. He could say Shouta read him wrong (like that would ever happen), or that he felt put-out for losing and getting pinned so easily. Or he could distract Shouta, get them to start making out again so the interaction would slip his mind. He could come up with some lie--

But could he?

This was Shouta he was talking about. Shouta, who had never judged Hizashi once in their lives. Shouta, who filled the spot of best friend before Hizashi could even blink. Shouta, who he’d been pining for since they were fifteen. Shouta, who was now his boyfriend.

And best friends turned boyfriends deserved the truth.

Hizashi stuttered for a moment, trying to get his voice to work the way he wanted it to, before he managed to force out, “Can I-- Could we have this conversation… without you on top of me?”

The words had barely finished leaving his mouth before Shouta was off of him. Hizashi quickly sat up, leaving the rest of the couch now free from his long legs. He winced when Shouta sat all the way at the other end.

“I didn’t mean that far,” he mumbled, staring down at his hands.

After a moment, the couch cushion dipped next to Hizashi and Shouta’s thigh came into his field of vision. Then, so did two hands that reached out to grab his own, stopping him from picking his cuticles raw and bloody.

“Hizashi,” Shouta said, voice barely above a whisper. “Are you okay?”

Hizashi plastered on another one of his grins. “I’m fine! It’s just…” His grin faltered. “It’s not something I’ve ever really talked about before?”

“Well, I’m a good listener.”

This time, Hizashi’s grin was far more true. “And don’t I know it,” he replied, leaning over to peck Shouta on the cheek.

Shouta leaned in before Hizashi had fully pulled away and nuzzled his nose into Hizashi’s cheek. “Take your time.”

Hizashi took a few moments to breathe as he thought of where to start. Shouta, true to his word, sat quietly and ready to listen. Every few seconds, he would run his thumbs over Hizashi’s knuckles or squeeze his hands, like he was trying to let Hizashi know that he was still there.

“I have this thing,” Hizashi said, and then immediately winced at the terrible wording.

“A thing?” Shouta prompted when he didn’t start up again.

“I--It’s just--I like--” Hizashi cut himself off with a frustrated huff. “It’s so embarrassing to talk about.”

Shouta nuzzled his cheek again.

“I was disappointed because… I like it.” Hizashi spat out the words like they were acid, but once they were out, the words wouldn’t stop coming. “I like tickling. It’s just, it seems fun. It’s fun to do with friends, to do to them at least. I just… I want to be tickled, it looks like it’s so much fun, but it never works, it’s never worked. And and every time someone tries, I know it’s not gonna work, but it still upset me every time, and it’s so dumb--”

“I’m gonna stop you there,” Shouta said, voice firm, and Hizashi’s heart stopped dead. “It’s not dumb.”

Hizashi looked up. Shouta placed a hand on his cheek and gave him one of those rare small smiles.

“It’s not, ‘Zashi. It’s perfectly reasonable to be disappointed about something like that. Anyway, I don’t think you have to be embarrassed about liking tickling, I don’t think it’s weird.”

“You don’t?”

Shouta grinned at him, moving his hand back down to squeeze Hizashi’s fingers again. “It’s pretty cute, ‘Zashi. I mean, tickling? That’s adorable.”

Hizashi couldn’t stop the embarrassed grin that spread across his face even as he felt his cheeks start to burn. He tried to tug his hands back to hide his face but Shouta wouldn’t let go, so instead he brought their joined hands up to attempt to hide his face.

Shouta hummed. “I know I said you didn’t need to be embarrassed, but really, I think you’re pretty damn adorable like this.”

“Sho!”

“Yes, ‘Zashi?” Shouta asked, but this time he put a teasing little lilt in his voice that made Hizashi’s stomach do somersaults. 

Hizashi didn’t bother replying, simply burying his face deeper into their joined hands.

He heard Shouta chuckle fondly, but soon after, Shouta leaned in closer and spoke in a much more serious tone, “Hey. I know you don’t think it would work, but we could try?”

Hizashi peeked his eyes out from behind their hands. “Try?”

Shouta shrugged. “I was more ticklish with you than I am with Tensei or Nemuri. Maybe the same is true for you?”

Hizashi hated the traitorous hope that built up in his heart. “Really?”

“Let’s move somewhere with a bit more room, yeah?”

Shouta stood and pulled Hizashi up with him, carefully leading him down the hall to the bedroom. He kept a careful eye on Hizashi the whole way, and Hizashi knew Shouta was trying to read his microexpressions, making sure he was on board with what was happening. And it just so happened that Hizashi was more than on board with the current line of events.

“We don’t have to do this now if you don’t want to,” Shouta said as he opened the bedroom door. “We can do it later, or never.”

“Nope,” Hizashi said, with far more confidence and conviction than he was feeling. “You got my hopes up, you’re going through with it.”

Shouta gave him another small smile before a devious look entered his eyes. Hizashi didn’t even have time to react before Shouta had swept him off his feet, making Hizashi squeal, and tossed him onto the bed. Hizashi couldn’t help but laugh as he bounced on the mattress, Shouta climbing up after him. Shouta’s playful side was something heavily guarded, and to this day, Hizashi still felt giddy every time he got to experience it.

“So,” Shouta said, settling over his hips again. “What should I do to you?”

Hizashi hummed happily, a giddy bubble settling into his chest even as the words sent another round of swooping butterflies through his stomach. He reached out and slid his hands up under Shouta’s shirt to grip his waist, needing to be close to him. Of course, he couldn’t help but teasingly brush his thumbs at the edges of Shouta’s stomach just to watch him jolt.

This time, Shouta reacted much faster. Before Hizashi could blink, his wrists were nabbed and pinned above his head by one of Shouta’s hands. Hizashi gasped and squirmed, trying to escape, but Shouta had always been much stronger than him, relying far more on hand-to-hand combat than Hizashi did with his own quirk.

“Are you trying to make this worse for yourself?” Shouta growled.

“Maybe,” Hizashi muttered, looking away.

Shouta let out a low chuckle that sent shivers down Hizashi’s spine for multiple reasons. Against his better judgement, Hizashi met Shouta’s eyes.

“It’s so cute to watch you squirm.”

The current turn of events was entirely unfair, in Hizashi’s humble opinion, especially with how much more he started to squirm with Shouta’s statement alone. He hadn’t teased Shouta earlier, when he’d been drawing the laughter out of him. How did Shouta even know how to tease like this?

And despite logically knowing he wouldn’t feel a ticklish thing, Hizashi still gasped when Shouta slid a hand under his shirt to grip his side, much like Hizashi had just done to him. He, too, rubbed his thumb against Hizashi’s skin teasingly, though the touch was firm enough that even the most ticklish of people wouldn’t have twitched.

“I might just keep you like this for a while,” Shouta hummed, eyes scanning down his torso. “Face all red, looking so nervous. If you keep biting your lip like that, you’re going to split it.”

Hizashi grumbled wordlessly, trying to bend his elbows in to cover his face, which, true to Shouta’s word, was steadily growing redder. Shouta caught him and eliminated the possibility immediately, tugging his arms up even higher so he had no slack to shield himself with.

“You don’t get to hide. It’s not often I get to see the great Present Mic so flustered.”

“Shut up!” Hizashi whined.

If he had been wanting to be tickled before, he was craving it now. While Hizashi had explored plenty online and certainly knew that teasing words would affect him, he had no clue that it could be so unbearable when implemented in real life. The nervous, anticipatory, fluttery feeling that started in his stomach had begun moving up into his chest now, as well. He felt like a big ball of nerves. He was torn between hating it and loving it.

Shouta hummed. “You were clearly enjoying yourself when tickling me,” he said, leaning in to purr directly into Hizashi’s ear. “I think it’s only fair that I have a little fun of my own.”

“Sho!”

“Yes, Sunshine?”

“Just-- Will you just test it already?”

The thumb rubbing against his side halted and Shouta raised an eyebrow. “Test what?”

Hizashi threw his head back (as much as he could while he was laying down with it on a pillow, at least) and groaned. “Please don’t make me say it again!”

Shouta buried his face into Hizashi’s neck, and Hizashi could feel the grin against his skin. “No, I think I will. Ask nicely, then we’ll try.”

“Please?” Hizashi tried, despite knowing Shouta wouldn’t let him get away with just that.

“I know you can do better than that, Hizashi,” Shouta said. “Come on, full sentences. You’re a radio host, aren’t you? Talking is your job, surely you’re better at it than that.”

Hizashi groaned again and then tilted his head so he could bury his face in Shouta’s mane of hair.

“Will you please try tickling me?” He mumbled.

“Good enough for me,” Shouta said against his neck, then immediately began pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses against the skin.

Hizashi hummed and let his eyes slide shut, tipping his head back to give Shouta more access, despite not understanding his motivations since Hizashi was supposed to be getting tickled right about now. Shouta made an approving noise, bringing his teeth into the mix and sucking at the skin before quickly soothing the spot with more kisses. At least Hizashi’s directional speaker hid his neck, he didn’t want to try explaining that one away to the press.

One hand still kept Hizashi’s wrists securely pinned above his head, and Hizashi found that entirely unfair. Shouta knew he liked to use his hands a lot when kissing or making out, and he couldn’t help but try to wiggle them free to at least run them through Shouta’s hair. Shouta gave his wrists a warning squeeze and Hizashi took the hint, stopping his struggles.

Shouta eventually made his way up to Hizashi’s ear, a spot that never failed to make Hizashi melt. Shouta had figured that one out quickly, much to his chagrin. Hizashi still hadn’t found any similar spots on Shouta, yet.

Hizashi melted into the mattress with a sigh as Shouta lavished affection around his ear, just the way he liked. Then, Shouta did something he’d never done before, that none of Hizashi’s lovers had ever done before. He drew Hizashi’s earlobe into his mouth and nibbled on it ever-so-slightly.

Hizashi’s eyes flew open as he choked on a gasp, his body attempting to jolt away from Shouta. An involuntary smile fought onto his face and Hizashi couldn’t help but bite his lip to try and diminish it. Was this…

Shouta dropped Hizashi’s earlobe to murmur into his ear, “Oh? What was that? I thought you weren’t ticklish, Sunshine.”

Hizashi oddly felt like he couldn’t catch his breath, but in a good way. His stomach was doing somersaults, and it felt like there were butterflies floating underneath his ribs. He sucked in a breath as Shouta pressed a gentle kiss to the shell of his ear before pulling back, releasing his hands as well.

“Well,��� Hizashi said, his voice far softer than intended. “That’s one spot.”

Shouta smiled, slowly pushing Hizashi’s shirt up. “It is. Shirt on or off?”

Hizashi’s blush flared up again and he bit his lip. “Um. On?”

Shouta nodded, leaving his shirt bunched up just above the base of his ribcage, leaving his sides and stomach exposed.

“Okay?” He asked.

Hizashi nodded and relaxed a little. He relaxed even more when Shouta reached up to brush his thumb against Hizashi’s cheekbone.

“I don’t know why I’m so nervous,” Hizashi grumbled.

“It’s okay to be nervous,” Shouta said. Then he smirked. “Don’t worry, I won’t let up until you’re nice and relaxed.”

Hizashi let out an embarrassed smile and covered his face with his newly-freed hands. Shouta laughed and leaned over him to kiss the backs of his palms.

“Keep hiding like that and I’ll have to tie you up,” Shouta said, clearly teasing.

And yet, despite Shouta likely not meaning it, Hizashi’s breath left him. Shouta froze.

“Do-- You would want that?”

Hizashi made an embarrassed noise. “I mean, not now, but… maybe? Another time?”

Hizashi peeked through his fingers to see Shouta biting his lip.

“We… can talk about that later.”

Hizashi nodded, and Shouta rolled his eyes. He pulled Hizashi’s hands away from his face, gently pushing them away from his torso.

“I want to see you.”

Hizashi pouted. “Now that’s not fair.”

Shouta grinned. “It’s perfectly fair.”

Hizashi resisted the urge to cross his arms or cover his face, instead fisting his hands in the bed sheets several centimeters away from his torso. Leaving plenty of room for Shouta’s hands on his skin.

“Tell me if you want to stop, yeah?” Shouta asked, laying his palm flat on Hizashi’s stomach.

Hizashi took a deep breath. “Yeah, okay.”

Out of nowhere, Shouta’s other hand pinched Hizashi’s side. It startled him, making him jump, but it didn’t tickle. While he was distracted by that, before Hizashi’s disappointment could set in, all five fingers of the hand on Hizashi’s stomach started scratching away at his abdomen. Hizashi gasped and his hands instantly flew up to his mouth.

“Don’t hide your smile, ‘Zashi,” Shouta murmured. “It’s so beautiful.”

“You can’t just say things like that!”

Hizashi twitched as the scratching fingers started searching out sensitive spots, Shouta’s other hand coming back into the mix and wiggling ever-so-lightly at the side of Hizashi’s hip, where his sweatpants had ridden down. Hizashi bit his lip on his smile under his hands, feeling giggles build up in his chest as he held his breath.

And this was it, Hizashi realized. This was what he’d been missing all this time. This maddening sensation that made him want to move closer and squirm away all at once, this was what he’d been missing out on for all those years. And it was working. This was the third best day of Hizashi’s life, only behind the day he met Shouta and the day he and Shouta confessed.

Shouta grinned down at him. “Everything you dreamed of?”

“Shut up!” Hizashi said, cursing when a giggle slipped out in the retort. “Oh god!”

“So, what do I get for winning?”

Hizashi squealed as Shouta’s fingers started rapidly crawling up his sides and ribs. His hands shot down to grip Shouta’s arms, trying his best to not to push him away.

“Whatever you want!” Hizashi cried out through his growing laughter.

“Whatever I want?”

Hizashi nodded, his eyes squeezing shut as he laughed. He felt Shouta lean in and put his lips right next to Hizashi’s ear.

“Well, it’s a good thing I want to hear you laugh.”

Hizashi let out a full shriek when Shouta’s hands shot up into his armpits under his shirt, scratching away at the shockingly sensitive skin. Then, as if that wasn’t enough, he started nibbling on Hizashi’s ear again, making his laughter go all high-pitched and squealing. Even Shouta’s soft exhales started to tickle.

And that was definitely something Hizashi was noticing. Now that he was laughing and giggling and squealing away, he even felt more ticklish. He wondered if even a squeeze to his sides or hips or knees would actually be effective, now, when they had never been before. Even the air in the room, brushing across his bare sides and stomach, made him feel all tingly.

And then it all stopped.

Shouta pulled back, suddenly and without a word. Cool air swept in onto Hizashi where their bodies had been pressed together, and he couldn’t help but shiver. Hizashi furrowed his brows and dropped his hands from where they covered his mouth, panting for air. Did he do something wrong?

“Why’d we stop?”

Shouta cocked his head to one side, tugging his hair up and out of his face and tying it up. “I’m going to give you a challenge.”

“... A challenge?”

Shouta gave him that shark-like grin. “I’m going to try and find all your tickle spots. And you, Hizashi. You cannot try to stop me or cover your face. If you do, I stop until you get back into position.”

Hizashi felt his face heating up, and Shouta’s smile got a more predatory edge to it. His breath caught in his throat as Shouta leaned in to talk directly into his ear again, leaving Hizashi shivering for a completely different reason.

“Well?” He breathed against the shell of Hizashi’s ear.

“Challenge accepted,” Hizashi whispered.

[p-artsypants]

I’ll Handle This (12)

In Which Lila Learns about Skyrim

Ao3 | FF.net

Sorry for taking a bit with this chapter. It isn’t even very long. But I was in the hospital recovering from surgery. We’re coming up close to the end of the story, but there’s maybe two more chapters after this. 

(Psst this chapter has hints to the next story I’ll publish after this one...as long as my ideas don’t change lol)

--

Lila was fired. It was immediate when they found out. Everyone sat in class, the lecture normal and lulling everyone into a soft state of sedation. 

Then Lila screamed. The scream was the worst thing Marinette had ever heard. Immediately, everyone turned to look at her in horror. 

She started bawling. Huge gasping sobs of someone who’d been shot. 

“Lila?!” Miss Bustier gasped in shock and concern. “Are you okay?!” 

“I’m so sorry, Miss Bustier!” She wailed. “I just wanted to peek at my email and—and—Mr. Agreste fired me!” 

Plagg had to bite his tongue. He knew she was going to twist this somehow, but her sobbing was so beautiful to see. 

“Oh Lila, I’m so sorry. It hurts a lot to lose a job. Especially when they don’t tell you to your face. That’s no fair.” 

“He-he-he said that Marinette told him that I was making Adrien uncomfortable! She got me fired!” 

Gasps, all around. 

“What?!” Barked Marinette. “I had nothing to do with this!” Not exactly the truth...

“But that’s what Mr. Agreste said!” 

Plagg stood, placing his foot on the seat, the spurs on his cowboy boots ringing with the motion. He put his cowboy hat back on (since Mrs. Bustier had asked him to remove it for violating dress code...again.) “well now. Sounds like we got ourselves in a gosh darn pickle.” 

Nino snorted. 

“Adrien! You never said I made you uncomfortable! Marinette must have lied to your father!” 

He flicked the rim of his hat. “Now slow your roll there, Buckeroo. I know my old man, and even if Marinette was mentioned in his email, it’s likely that he just wanted to place the blame on someone else.” 

Yes, throw the old man under the bus. He still deserves it, even with whole hearted apologies. 

“But you know, I do feel awfully bad for you, Lila. Losing yer job and all. How’s about I make it up to ya? I’ll come sit by you for a while. Keep ya company and cheer you up. Cain’t have gettin’ all akumatized up in here, you reckon?” 

Not that Lila getting akumatized was even a concern anymore. But the world wouldn’t know about Hawkmoth’s surrender until Emilie’s fate was resolved. Adrien’s family deserved that much at least. 

“Oh Adrien!” Lila cried. “You really are such a wonderful friend. But I couldn’t bear to make you move on my behalf. You need to focus on your work.” 

“A cowboy needs to be exceptional at multitasking. That is, as long as Mrs. Brassiere is okay with it.” 

Miss Bustier pinched the bridge of her nose. Usually, she was a very calm and level-headed teacher, compassionate and understanding. But Adrien’s antics were stressing her out massively. “Yes, Adrien, I suppose it’s fine if you move to—what did you call me?”

“Much obliged, Madam. If’en you’ll excuse me...” 

Marinette watched with fascination as Plagg gathered up his materials and moved to the back of the class to sit next to Lila. Then she glanced in her purse, where Tikki and Adrien were hanging out. They both shrugged. 

Due to the retirement of Hawkmoth, Adrien was now allowed to spend time away from the Miraculous without consequence. Plagg assured him that once the final condition was met, no matter where he was, his soul would return to his body. 

So he spent the school day with Tikki, and the evenings with Marinette. It was a sweet deal, and it really gave Adrien the time to bond with her without school or akumas in the way. 

He had even spent the night with her the night before, curled up next to her on her pillow, and purring every time Marinette’s hand glanced his fur. 

Nino leaned back in his seat. “Do you know what he’s up to this time?” 

“No idea...but I am eager to see where this goes.” 

Nino shook his head with a shrug. Two nights ago, when Plagg was arrested, Nino gathered all the money in his savings and went down to the jail to bail him out. 

Only to find out he was already let go. 

So he went back home, and called Adrien’s phone relentlessly, hoping for an answer. 

Finally, in the wee hours of the morning, Chat Noir returned and explained that he was going home now, thanks for having him, he had to watch the mansion because his sort of repentant father was going to Tibet to resurrect his dead wife. 

Nino gave up on logic and understanding, and just made sure Plagg had everything he had brought. 

Now he would wait until the whole situation blew over, and hopefully Adrien himself, in his own body, would explain it all to him. Plagg seemed to oversimplify everything to the point it became vague. 

Marinette, on the other hand, was very curious to see where this was all going. After all, Adrien’s previous tactic of being nice to Lila hadn’t worked. So what was Plagg hoping to gain from the same approach?

Wrassle her with his randomly appointed cowboy charm? 

In science, two classes later, Plagg had elected to sit next to Lila still, despite her protests. 

Marinette was close enough now to hear what Plagg’s master plan was. 

“So there’s like several types of Mer, right? But not like mermaids. This has nothing to do with mermaids. These are mostly elves, but not all. So there’s Dunmer, right? Those are dark elves. And Bosmer, wood elves, and Altmer, high elves. The Falmer are snow elves, but they’re all twisted and savage, because of the Dwemer, which are dwarves!” 

Marinette snorted a bit too loudly, drawing attention from the teacher. 

“Miss Dupain-Cheng, is something funny?” 

“No ma’am, I had a tickle in my sinuses.” 

“Ah, I see. Anyways, as I was saying...” 

Lila always sat in the back of the class, despite her many alleged disabilities. This was probably to get away with the fact that she rarely paid attention during class. 

It was the ideal place for Plagg to harass her and not get caught. 

Poetry in motion. 

“So you get to pick what race you want to be, but you’re always the Dragonborn. Despite the description, you don’t look any different. So a Dragonborn is someone that can devour the souls of dragons so they don’t get resurrected by Alduin. Let me back up, Alduin is an evil dragon that used to rule the world, and he’s resurrecting dragons so he can take over. There’s another dragon though, named Paarthanax, and he’s a good guy. He helps out the Tongues on the Throat of the World. Or the greybeards. Some call them Tongues, but in the game they’re called Graybeards. And the tongues are the monks that teach you to shout. And different shouts teach you different things, right? The dragonborn and the tongues are the only ones that are supposed to know how to shout, but there’s this other dude named Ulfric Stormcloak, and he knows Unrelenting Force, that’s the Fus Ro Da shout I was talking about earlier? He used it to kill high king Torygg to start a war. Oh yeah, so there’s nine holds with Jarls, right—“ 

The day ended, and Lila stood quickly. “Well Adrien, thank you so much for keeping me company today. I’m feeling a lot better. You can move back up to your old spot tomorrow.” 

“Well, you shore are welcome, Pardner. But sittin here in the back has been mighty nice. I think I’ll stay! You don’t mind, do ya? It’s awfully fun to have you as company!” 

Lila’s eye twitched, but she was aware that most of the class was watching them. “Yeah. That’d be...great.” 

“Darn tootin’! Well, you look like you’re in a rush, don’t want to hold you up!” 

“See you tomorrow!” She chirped, before hurrying from the room. As she passed Marinette, a dark look came over her face. The look of someone seething with rage and hatred, but trying to hide it. 

Marinette would have been scared, if Lila hadn’t been dealing with Plagg instead. 

Marinette went home, Tikki and Adrien talking to her from her collar. 

“I don’t know. Plagg was successful with the first two tasks, but I don’t know how he’s going to turn Lila over to the good side.” Marinette mused. 

“I don’t know if he has to. The condition is to just get her to leave me alone. He said he was doing some Pavlovian Jedi mind trick on her.” 

“Well, I sure hope it works. Speaking of, where is Plagg?” 

Adrien’s ears flicked. “He left pretty suddenly after class. I didn’t see him go. Hopefully, he went back to the mansion.” 

“Do you want me to call him?” 

“No, I trust him. He’s got things under control.” 

“Glad to hear it! Ready for snack time?” 

“Oh heck yes!” 

—

Lila had to actively stop herself from stomping all the way home. Frustration rolled off of her in waves, and she mildly wondered why she hadn’t been akumatized yet. 

Adrien Agreste was the most annoying person she had ever met. And oblivious too! He never picked up on any of her subtle hints to get him to shut up! She really didn’t want to be rude, because his friendship looked great on her, but wow. No wonder he didn’t have any friends. No wonder Gabriel was so protective of him. If he wasn’t cute...his personality was like a wet sock. 

And he was weird. Weird mannerisms, weird speech pattern, just weird. Hopefully she could either get used to it, or Adrien would get a clue to stop being so obnoxious. 

Finally, she reached her apartment. 

“Home mom!” She called. 

There was laughter in the kitchen. Her mother had a guest. While not uncommon, there was just a hint of dread that hung in the air. 

Lila walked to the kitchen, only to see Adrien sitting at the table, talking to her mother! How?! How did he beat her here?! How did he know where she lived?! What the hell was he doing?!

“Adrien?” Lila gawked. 

He rubbed his head awkwardly. “Sorry for popping in uninvited. I just...I was worried about you! You’ve been akumatized twice, and I didn’t want it to happen again since you were fired.” 

Lila’s face paled as her mother gave her a stern look. 

“I think you’ve got some explaining to do, Missy. I didn’t know you were modeling. And you never told me about being akumatized!” 

Adrien gasped. “Oh no! She didn’t tell you? I’m so sorry! I didn’t know that was a secret! I won’t say anymore!” 

“Any more?” Mrs. Rossi asked. “There’s more?” 

“Adrien.” Lila bit, in warning. 

“Well...I mean, you knew she was meeting with my father right? Something about being his muse?” 

Mrs. Rossi looked horrified. “What! You were talking to a grown adult man?! Were these visits supervised?!” 

Lila opened her mouth to answer, but Plagg beat her to it. “I don’t think so. Father is a very private person.” 

“Lila Giselle Rossi! You are sooo grounded! No offense to your father, Adrien, but meeting up with an adult man, unsupervised? And to what, be his muse? What does that even mean? It sounds gross!” 

“I swear nothing happened! He just wanted my opinion-”

“On what? What reason would he have to ask a 14 year old’s opinion?”

Plagg winced and looked at Lila. “I’m so sorry, Lila. I came here to help, but...” 

Lila shook with rage. Her mother was a complete pushover and believed everything she said. Now Adrien had sewn the seeds of distrust in her and she wouldn’t get away with any white lies ever again. 

“You’re dead,” She mouthed at Plagg. 

“Adrien, thank you for coming here and telling me all of this. I’m very grateful. But I think it’s best if you head home now. Lila has some chores to do.” 

“I understand, Madam Rossi. Again, I’m really sorry...I just wanted to help.” 

“Oh don’t worry, you did. This is for Lila’s own good.” 

He sheepishly looked to her. “See you tomorrow?” 

Her eye twitched. “Yeah.” 

And Plagg swiftly walked from the apartment, concealing his evil laughter until he got to the door. 

—

The next day at school, Marinette, along with Tikki and Adrien in her bag, arrived at school just a few minutes before the bell rang. 

Plagg was sitting at the front of the room, wearing a Pikachu onesie, and looking absolutely devastated. Nino sat next to him and had a hand over his face, doing his best to conceal whatever emotion he had. 

Everyone else in the room was avoiding them like they had the plague. 

Alya spotted her and came quickly, looping an arm through hers and escorting them out into the hall. “Girl, big news. I know you love Adrien, so this is going to be a blow. But here’s the thing...Lila told us this morning that Adrien came to her house yesterday and told her mom about her modeling job. Apparently, her mom didn’t want her working, and got upset that Lila lied. Adrien’s been insisting that it wasn’t on purpose, but everyone is kind of pissed at him anyway.” 

Marinette said nothing, but bit her lip. She knew that this absolutely was on purpose. 

“I’ll leave your actions up to you, but people are pretty mad at Adrien. Just letting you know.” 

“Who’s side are you taking?” 

Alya scoffed. “None. I’m staying out of this. Both people are in the right. Obviously Sunshine just wanted to prevent her from being akumatized. He was with her all day yesterday. It’s admirable, really.” 

“It is.” Marinette said with a smile. Though she was smiling for a completely different reason. There were no akumatizations anymore. Everyone was safe now. 

“We better get back in there, class will start soon.” 

So they returned. Miss Bustier was in, and ready to begin the lesson. 

Then Plagg raised his hand. 

“Yes Adrien?” 

“Before we start class, I want to say something.” 

“Go ahead, Adrien. The floor is yours.” 

He stood, and looked to Lila in the back of the room. “Lila, I know I apologized yesterday, but I’m really really sorry about outing you to your mom. I had no idea she didn’t know about your rendezvous with my father. I was just really scared that you were going to become akumatized, and I didn’t want that to happen. My friends are all important to me, and losing you would be like ripping out a piece of my heart. Could you ever forgive me?” 

Marinette glanced Nino’s face, which twitched to hide a smile. Then she looked at Lila, who looked calm, but her hands were balled into fists. 

After many breathless minutes, Lila smiled slightly. “I understand, Adrien. Of course you’re still my friend. I treasure you too! I’m sorry I got so mad.” 

“Hugs?” Plagg raised his arms. 

Lila could pretend to be happy and calm, but the paling of her skin could not be hidden. “Hugs!” 

Plagg brought her in for a squeeze, and the class ‘aww’ed at their make up. 

Except Nino, who let out the tiniest snort. 

Marinette flicked open her purse to look at Adrien. He mimed a gagging gesture back. 

And then Plagg took those last couple steps and joined Lila on her bench. No one tried to stop him. No one spoke up and said, “hey, maybe you should give her some space anyway.” 

They just all let poor, socially awkward Adrien push boundaries and take his seat. Because he had apologized so earnestly for trying to help. And she had forgiven him. So everything was fine now. 

Right?

As the lesson started, Marinette paid attention to the teacher. But occasionally, she’d hear the faintest whispers of Adrien’s voice (Plagg’s voice now). 

“...so it’s commonly believed that the Nord’s came from Atmora with Ysgramor, but they believe that they settled Skyrim, so they’re kind of racist to everyone else. But also, the Empire came in out of nowhere and tried to upheave their way of life, and even told them which Gods they were allowed to worship. High King Torygg was playing cordial with the Aldmeri Dominion, and some of the other Jarl’s didn’t like that. So Ulfric Stormcloak, the Jarl of Whiterun shouted him to death. Just like the Dragonborn can. Though it’s never explained why he knows how to do this. So this started a whole civil war…” 

Marinette chanced a glance behind her, and noticed that Lila had her head in her hands, and she looked absolutely miserable.

[straymackerel]

Hi Tara, congrats on 500 again!! Could I request no.6 with Dazai?

dazai + backpfeifengesicht (german, n.) a face in need of a fist; literally, “slap face.”

➽─{hi nicole, thank you!!! this was a bit of an... experiment hehe. definitely not the direction i'd normally go ✨}─❥

warning(s): stalking; mild yandere. 

it is worth noting that yandere is a horror trope at its core, not a romance trope.

Dazai was mostly harmless... right?

It would’ve done you some good to question this basic premise when he first crept back into your life. The need for concern, however, seemed scarce; the two of you broke up on what seemed to be good terms. What you failed to account for was Dazai’s acute ability to put on a show. Ironically, this talent of his was the very same reason that you cut him off to begin with.

When you first met Dazai, you could’ve sworn he was the wittiest, cleverest, and most charismatic man you’d ever had the pleasure of talking to─but eventually, you noticed that above all, he was hollow. 

Charming as he was, Dazai’s emptiness became most apparent to you once your relationship outlasted all of his previous ones─a careless mistake on his part. It wasn’t often that he kept a plaything for long. Your declarations of love were met with mirror-like reciprocation; your vulnerabilities were matched by few (if any) of his own. Try as you might, your connection to him remained shallow; even though he pretended there was something more to your companionship, you couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that the home you built for two in your heart was only occupied by one. 

Truthfully, Dazai fell short of valuing your relationship until he realized he’d fallen out of your favor. He swept you up in the exact same manner he’d done to many others, countless others. You were a commodity to him, but a replaceable one at that─just another mind to pick, another body to ravish. But Dazai was used to having his toys at his very fingertips; he grew a certain fondness of playing his lovers like marionettes. Your desertion made his head spin. Just how did you manage to make your escape? None of his string puppets have ever had their way with him before. And most certainly none of them had been the one to leave.

The first incident took place at your local grocery store. It was when you turned to the checkout line that you saw him, a vestige of your past wandering the linoleum aisles. You blinked once, then twice… still there. 

“Dazai, long time no see! What are you doing in these parts?” 

“Oh hey there! I’m just running some errands,” he said, his lips curled into a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Just running some errands?” you echoed back. “…But Dazai, you live on the other side of the city.”

“Yeah, I know, right? Get this: I couldn’t find crab meat anywhere else in Yokohama today!” the bandaged detective held up the package, all styrofoam and plastic wrap. “I can’t believe I ended up in your backyard looking for this!”

“Oh my goodness, no way!” You were tickled by his silly excuse, so you hardly thought twice about his roundabout explanation.

The second incident happened outside of your home. Dazai led a sulking Atsushi through your neighborhood, stopping right at your front door, apparently on the job. The silver-haired boy stayed back as Dazai made his inquiries.

“Fancy seeing you again! We were asking around for information regarding our latest case. There were some strange sightings on this street,” he said, rather cheerful for someone who consistently avoided his work. You helped the duo as best as you could, which was no help at all; you were unfamiliar with their client’s claims. They left presumably empty-handed.

When you went to check your mailbox that night, it was empty. In and of itself, it wasn’t much cause for alarm, until you realized the weekly newspaper was supposed to come that day. Maybe it’ll turn up late? You tried to brush it off as a coincidence, wanting nothing more than for Dazai’s cover story to bring you some relief.

It did, but not for long.

The third incident occurred at your workplace. Under other circumstances, it might have been a pleasant surprise; a beautiful, oversized bouquet of flowers exchanged hands between the delivery guy, your boss, and finally you. 

“You might want to keep your personal affairs out of the office in the future,” your boss joked at the time, winking. Much to your dismay, your nosy coworkers showered you with whistles and congratulations.

“Who’s the lucky guy?” they asked. You shook your head, shooting all of them a tight-lipped smile. Unease set into your stomach; you hadn’t dated anyone since Dazai. If it was from a friend, they could’ve given it to you in person. If it was from family, there would have been an occasion to celebrate. You waited for your coworkers to walk away before so much as touching the unexpected gift.

Turning the flowers over in your clammy hands, you looked for any indication of who the sender might be. There was no such thing hidden inside of the crinkly pink paper. You untied the satin ribbon, twirling it around your little finger. Your heart dropped when you saw the strip of paper that had fallen from its binding. 

The name “Osamu” was scrawled onto it.

“Dazai, what the fuck?” you spoke into the phone, voice rising and faltering, hands shaking ever so slightly.

“Whoa, whoa, what’s the matter?” he asked, his calm composure contrasting your very obvious distress.

“I’m talking about the flowers, Dazai. What the hell?” He paused as if trying to remember something.

“Oh, shoot. I forgot to give you the heads up,” he said slowly.

“What is that supposed to mean?” you asked.

“I won this giveaway thing out of nowhere.”

“And?” You twisted the ribbon, stretching the threads in the fabric apart.

“Look, I don’t even remember signing up for it, but this cute little flower shop was offering me a free arrangement, and I thought you’d appreciate it the most,” he explained. “They're your favorite flowers, aren’t they? Sorry, I forgot to tell you in advance.”

“…Oh.” You took one of the petals and stroked it between your index finger and thumb. He was right, these really are your favorite─part of the reason why you got so upset. “Well, that’s very sweet of you, but don’t send any more weird gifts in the future.” 

As much as you’d like to give him the benefit of the doubt, it was impossible to overlook his tactlessness. Something wasn’t quite right about his popping into and out of your life. You trashed the bouquet at your earliest convenience; if he tried anything funny again, you’d be sure to shut it down immediately.

Dazai made contact with you again less than a week later.

There was no ambiguity left in his intentions when you found him dining at your favorite restaurant, one you ordered takeout from often. The place was so packed that you didn’t see him until you were inside, allowing him to pounce on you immediately.

“You’ll never believe it: when I was trying to make a reservation for myself, they misheard me and booked a table for two! Care to join?” he offered, standing up from his seat. You looked at him, then at the large bottle of sake on the table, then at the curious waiter who eyed you from his post, then back at Dazai. His eyes shone with the flickering of candlelights, face slightly flushed from drinking alone.

“You’re right, Dazai, I don’t believe it,” you said, making a mental note to get delivery next time. “This is crazy, leave me alone already.” You turned on your heel at once, but as you tried to make your exit, you felt a cold hand wrap around your wrist. Your heart began to thump.

“Hands off,” you snapped at him, stride stunted. You tried to jerk your arm away, but he stared at you with an iron hold and an iron gaze, unrelenting. 

"It's all your fault," he said with mock tenderness. "I can't stop thinking about you."

"That's not my problem," you said, still struggling against his grasp.

“Don’t make me do this the hard way,” he said, voice lowering to a growl. His warning filled you with a mix of fear and annoyance. On one hand, he could easily snap your wrist in this position. On the other hand, did he really think he could get away with that in public?

“Here? Now?” you asked, gesturing towards the other customers. You gasped when he held on impossibly tighter, threatening to crush through flesh and bone. Raising your hand, you had half a mind to smack him across the head when he suddenly let go, the thudding of footsteps breaking his attention.

Saved by the waiter. 

A swarm of employees came to your aid, eager to diffuse the situation. They started to usher you out, clamoring over you: "Are you okay?" "Do you need a cab?" Dazai's features darkened as they took you away, but a twisted smile crossed his face when he noticed you clutching your swollen arm. His last words would ring in your ears that night:

“Oh, darling. I didn’t specify where or when, now, did I?”

--

If you believe you are in an abusive or unsafe relationship, please contact the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1-800-799-SAFE (7233), or try their live chat: https://www.thehotline.org/what-is-live-chat/

--

source(s):

link i: stalking behavior checklist

link ii

link iii

[nurseofren]

Keeping Your Promise - Chapter 20 (NSFW)

Read on AO3

Read chapter nineteen

Title: It Can Wait

Words: 6900

Summary: Some things are better left unsaid.

ST Rambles: I have emerged from the third semester of nursing school with an A and eight days of break! I'm excited for the coming chapters of this story. Please tell me your thoughts/feelings/reactions/criticisms! I love all of it and I look forward to reading them every day.

[MASTERLIST]

The ringing silence of the elevator lied in stark contrast with the bustling chaos currently inhabiting the rest of the Finalizer, though it was hardly a relief. The quiet was no salve, only allowing the roaring thoughts to claw deeper into your skull, your head pounding as fingers dug into red, wet eyes. No amount of physical torture would ever compare to the unrelenting wound encapsulating the entirety of your soul, knowing it would be less enduring to physically rip out your own heart than to eviscerate the connection you’d formed with Kylo.

Just an hour ago you would have given anything to never think of him again, spending every thought half-wishing your head would already leave your body so you didn’t have to think about any of it anymore, growing in the belief that there was nothing left to fight for any longer. Now, as you stood with hiccupped breath and unwanted tears, there was an undeniable truth that at least one thing still mattered, the very thing – person – who’d prompted the hopeless outlook to begin with. Snoke gave you an ultimatum, but in doing so had offered insight into the mind you so deeply wished you could read.

That is what made the task so sickening, made your chest contort with an inexorable plague of guilt, made your cheeks burn with the friction of quick hands wiping away the infinite supply of torment weeping down your face – Kylo Ren held you in his thoughts, too. The possibility had sparsely crossed your mind for the past month, your own head too busy wasting time chasing an answer you didn’t want, one you learned was barely Kylo’s to give. Worsening the constant and blaring ache was the confusion you felt when considering the fact that Snoke didn’t have to tell you anything other than your task; it ate at your sanity to think if this blinding guilt was a purposeful manipulation or if it was your own doing, nails digging into the heels of your hands while you questioned the reality you’d been thrust into.

Multiple attempts at words were made in the upward catapult towards your duty, tears suffocating any practice efforts, the thoughts themselves barely finishing in their cognitive state. I hate you, you would have to say, the mere thought inspiring an image of the guarded brokenness they would outfit the face of their recipient. It would be more complicated than that. You would have to work at convincing him, at convincing yourself, that they were true; the conversation would never end there, those first three words being the foundation for the very obliteration of two souls, not just the one they were intended for.

The floor indicator rocketed upward with the apparatus, slowing as you neared the place – the home – you were meant to return to much earlier, regarding the radar on your watch indicated you wouldn’t be alone when you got there. Inverse to the slowing machine was your heart, picking up as you clawed away at the betraying tears, hoping it would still be too dim for him to notice your puffy face, knowing there was nothing that would disguise the pain which resided in your voice. There was no courage to be built up in performing such a wicked act, only the presence of a previously unimaginable amount of shame to accompany you in your journey towards both life and death – living past your trial to lay witness to the murder of a considerable piece of your heart.

With two floors left before the doors were to shoot open, you considered what you were ensuring in doing this. Snoke had promised you a life and a license, but in questioning what would happen if you denied him, he’d in turn threatened another life that had already been threatened by the very person you were instructed to destroy. Mason had been unfairly roped into the tragedy that had become your life; if it was the last thing you did in this realm, you were going to do everything in your power to keep him from becoming collateral damage. He had already endured too much of what was intended for you, and to even imagine him dead because of you – not only in place of you – was to have another crack splinter upwards from the apex of your heart.

A rush of air made obvious the remaining tears which stuck to your cheeks, frustrated fingers working to scrape them out of existence, your teeth lodging into your bottom lip in an effort to stop any more from forming as you stepped out into the concrete foyer. The last time you’d been here had played on an endless loop since leaving, remembering the stars in his eyes, the feeling of being so close to the person you’d encountered multiple times since. Before now, you’d believed that night had been the worst pain you’d experienced, the feeling of Kylo pulling away vivid in its agony. With that memory came the reminder of the trust he’d admitted, remembering how forced and stunted the words had come out, seeing how difficult it was for him to even say those three syllables. Soon, though, it would be nonexistent, regretted, and torn apart, the thought bringing a full wave of nausea to your stomach.

There was too much to say yet standing in the freezing entryway you were starved of words, knowing none would make this easier, hoping some would at least surface to get it over with. Folding into yourself, head slumping down while your arms wound tight to your chest, you moved further into the quarters, walking into the great expanse and taking it all in, memorizing it as you knew this would be the last time you’d be here. On the counter sat his helmet, chrome bars glinting in the low light, and his cowl, half of the tattered article swaying as it hung from the marble. You trudged over to it, fingers barely brushing the rough fabric, regarding it in deliberate remembrance.

“I wanted to find you here,” Kylo said, voice far away and echoed.

Turning, stealing one last glimpse of the black cowl, you found him looking past the glass wall, staring into space with his hands relaxed at his sides, shoulders steady and slow with his breath. Even though his face was hidden you were enamored by his posture, admiring him with a wilting heart while words formed slowly over your tongue.

“I know—” your throat stuck, steps slowly bringing you to him “—something… I got pulled away. Didn’t look at the time.”

“Where were you?” His voice was void of any threatening tone, something that hinted at concern edging his question.

Only a few paces from him now, you brushed your fingers along the elegant line of the crimson instrument. The only thing keeping you from telling Kylo everything about your morning was the morbid thought of Mason’s lifeless body, blue lips and mottled skin reminding you how completely trapped you were beneath Snoke’s thumb.

“Right after you went to… finish your job,”—Dameron’s face quickly flashed into view, the reality of Kylo Ren’s practices settling in once again while you begged the beyond for any way to begin this conversation—“I had every intention of doing as you said, but I… I ran into a friend and she wasn’t well and then she started to-,”

When you took one last step, stopping within one stride of him, he turned around, stopping whatever pitiful sequence of words you had begun to ramble about in an attempt to evade the inevitable. The artificial lighting offered just a slight sense of early morning, his features contoured in shadow while his hair fell in graceful waves over his face. You’d expected him to be more rigid about your absence, to have some sort of angry emotion twisted into his features, or at the very least an expression of stoicism. A trill of light bolted into your bloodstream when you saw the slightest, most fragmented, brief moment of peace come over his face when he laid eyes on you.

“You and your friends,” he tsked, stepping forward so your head angled up to the glinting honey irises tickling between your eyes, “None of you have any concept of time.”

“Yeah, I-,”

His hands came to pull you into him, bound by the small of your back and the nape of your neck, lips melting into yours and fuzzing your purpose for being here. The one time you wished he’d punish you, hurt you for being late so you could suffer even an nth of what you felt you now deserved, he was breathing in your body like he’d been suffocating for years. The hand at your hair was pushing your face into his, his tongue slipping past your teeth while you stood stunned and overwhelmed in his closeness. His hold was aching, twisting the knife you’d yet to place; all you wanted was to stay here and pretend it was this simple, let yourself exist here for as long as you could and accept the fatality it promised. But you knew you couldn’t.

Weak hands smoothed over high cheekbones, your eyes hesitantly opening while you bit at your cheek, an anvil of grief falling onto already heavy shoulders. “I have to…”

He wasn’t looking at you, he was seeing you, and you were crumbling. With every jerked movement of his eyes, pupils wide with focus, you saw him, too. The feeling exiled every word, your attention now solely centered on committing him to memory; to match the stars behind him was a constellation of tiny moles splayed over his features, their presence so human and true and gentle. A pang at your heart lit when mapping the notch between his chin and bottom lip, another dull ache when tracing your eyes up his jaw to admire the prominence of his ears hiding behind soft billows of obsidian. Lips that had just broken from yours were flushed and full, their presence making your own part, the muscles under your eyes tensing inward while words disappeared entirely.

“What do you have to do?” Breath fueled the lustful question as his attention settled completely on your mouth, fingers at your neck twisting, pulling you closer while they sent shivers down to your toes.

A knot formed in your throat. He was too beautiful, your lungs stalling as you pushed a shaking hand through his full locks, your every effort focused on keeping any tears a secret. The knowledge that his head was full of thoughts of you made it that much harder to think, regarding that Snoke had used the word admiration to describe the way Kylo saw you; Snoke had only ever felt Kylo’s feelings, never needing to hear the words come from him to understand they were real and absolute. There was an emptiness in knowing you’d never hear it from Kylo himself, but knowing you weren’t imagining it all nearly brought you to your knees.

This moment contrasted harshly with the last time you’d been here; that night you’d run away from your own feelings for him, not wanting to burn for a man who you didn’t believe could ever do the same for you. But he could. And he did. And he was. Wrapped in his warmth, skin tingling with his touch, you settled in the smoke of his soul; it filled your head with the immortal and hopeless wish to never leave here, its plumes framing your lungs with the tragic idea that one last week with him would be worth more than a lifetime without.

“Kylo, I have to tell you something.” But the image of Mason’s unmoving body clawed at you with new wretchedness, snuffing out your wants, which now felt more like needs, and bringing you to the conclusion that you couldn’t escape this without hurting someone you held in your heart.

His brow creased, hand at your back tightening while he brought your face even closer to his, your weight shifting to your toes while his nose came down to press into your cheek. “It can wait.”

Quivering lips rested just barely against his, the three words unveiling something you hadn’t considered: Snoke said by the end of the day, and the dull shadows defining his features suggested that there were still at least eighteen hours until that clock ran out. It was weak and faulty logic, but whatever resolve you had come here with had all but vanished the second he kissed you, taking with it your sense of reason. Mason would be fine. You would hold up your end of the morally robbed bargain. For now, though, you chose to listen to Kylo, accept that it, in fact, could wait, and you could savor this time with him as you knew it would be the last.

He nuzzled into you in an effort to pull your lips into his once more, but you turned away from him, feeling a profuse need to serve him, to give him something yourself, at your own will and without his direction. Peering up into his gaze, adrenaline punctuated your pulse, a lightning strike spreading over your skin and coursing between your legs as your nerves surged at the idea of pleasing him without his guidance or initiation. In understanding that this would be the last time you could, you wanted to cherish him, wanted to praise him with words and action. You wanted to worship him completely, taking this time as an opportunity to beg him for a forgiveness he was ignorant of, to use your body as an instrument to sound a private apology.

“I was late,” you said, breath warming over his chin when you embraced his eyes in your own, “let me make it up to you.” Your hand twisted beneath his robes and found his cock, hardening while your hand cupped him through leather pants. Stretching upwards, your other hand gripped onto the back of his neck, your lips nipping at his lobe, kissing the heated skin while you basked in his scent. “I want to be your good girl.”

Beneath your fingers you felt the fabric over his groin stretch, cunt clenching at the knowledge you’d earned that. Tracing parted lips from his ear to his mouth, you tightened your grip through the taut leather when your lips locked with his, gusts of breath flooding over his face and your own as you felt him permit your request. Taking your hand from his erection, you found your other, nails biting into the thick armor containing his physique as they fled parallel down his chest. Asking him with your eyes, you floated in his gaze while your hands struggled with his belt, holding your breath until the heavy accessory which held his weapon struck the concrete with a fast clank, heart picking up and throat thickening when you went to unhook the innerworkings of his outer robe.

There was an urgency vibrating between your fingers and the machinations of his uniform, growing exacerbated when you found another set of fasteners as the first robe fell to his feet, a huff of aggravation leaving you as you kept his lips on yours.

“Mm, do good girls complain?” It intoxicated you to know he was going along with your plans, his fingers picking at the tips of his gloves while you unhooked the last of his inner armor.

Breaking away from him, you twisted your face into a knowing smirk, circling your tongue around one of your canines. “No, Master.”

One corner of his mouth lifted to match your expression, darkened eyes narrowing before you set out to remove his undershirt. Before you got the chance to hook your fingers into the hem, he caught your wrists and brought them up, resting the hollowed tips of his gloved thumbs at your bottom lip.

“You said you wanted to be my good girl? Go ahead,” he taunted your name, a challenge over his tongue as he pressed the leather onto your tongue, “be my good girl.”

“Yeth, Mathter,” you purred, biting down over the warm ridges of his gloves, pulling your head back and freeing his hands while desire burned hot and bright between you, need flooding in your belly to please him.

The two coverings fell to the floor, your mouth free for less than half a second before he secured yours to his with his hands cupping around your skull, long fingers treading paths of pain into your scalp as he grasped into your hair. He wasn’t allowing you to break from him, the shirt keeping his bare abdomen hidden frustrating as you tried to pull it up. He knew what he was doing, his mouth stretching over teasing teeth at your third attempt.

“You’re not making this easy.” Your fingers busied with his pants instead, fingers leading below the waistline to wrap around the thick base of his restrained cock, hand clasping down into the heavy flesh, feeling his blood throb against your hold.

A stifled grunt bobbed in his throat at your touch, his hips thrusting into you. “I’m just giving the nurse a taste of her own medicine.”

“Hm—” you slid the inner drawstring of his pants and pulled your hand away, fingers hooking into the hem and tugging down to allow them to fall inverted over his boots, his black boxer briefs remaining, his erection obvious behind the tented fabric, throbbing within its confines “—I think I’m ready for my next dose, don’t you, Master?”

The way his title dripped from your tongue in pointed, slithered syllables sent his eyes spiraling into a frenzied fervor, cock twitching as you looked between it and his face, your tongue glinting between your teeth while you regarded him in errant hunger. Hot, flushed lips pressed into your neck just below your lobe, the tip of his tongue trailing along as he sucked new proof into electrified skin. Again he ceased your hands, this time lining your fingers up with his, his hands dwarfing your own as he hooked them into the neckline of his shirt. He bit down into your shoulder and as you cried out his hands crushed yours, tearing a centered split through the thick fabric, his work seemingly effortless as the article gave way to his strength, your fingers feeling every thread tear apart as he guided them in his action.

The sound of the shredding shirt evoked a ferocity of primal need deep in your chest, feral hands taking the lead until the hem tore apart completely, the tattered remains of his undershirt hanging loosely over the exposed musculature of his expansive chest. Hard, hot breaths came over your back, his teeth retracting when your hands flitted down his biceps and pulled the remaining clothing from his arms. Curious fingers trickled up to his shoulders and teased his tiding chest, eyes focused on the flowing muscles framing his rib cage, watching them contract and relax with each audible breath.

A single finger lit a path from your clavicle to your chin, your head lifting reluctantly away from what you’d uncovered. His face echoed your need, now, lips parted and throat bobbing as his expression melted into you with an irresistible challenge residing in the iris-set inferno. “Finish what you started, slut.”

An excited rush of air left you, his finger leaving your chin, hands resting at his sides as he left you to your own devices. To have his body offered in its completeness was overwhelming, stunned for a second as you admired every uncovered part of him. Capturing him in your gaze, you lifted one of his hands, hands reaching over his wrist and pushing two thick fingers past your lips, tongue twisting around and parting them while small whimpers left you. The aching heartbeat amplified between your legs as you watched his lips part, saw the ferocity bloom in his features – his upper lip slightly curling, the muscle beneath one of his brows twitching with chaos, nostrils flaring – while you sucked the sizable appendages, moving your head back and forth as your lips passed the same over his knuckles.

The riotous motion of his face worked its way into your bloodstream, a desperate, guttural growl leaving you as you tore his fingers from your mouth and gripped back onto his neck, mouth crushing against his for only a second before you led it down his jaw, kissing and sucking at the flushed flesh while two seeking hands slipped beneath the elastic of his briefs, the warmth the article contained earning a pleading whine from buzzing lips.

“I need you.” The desperate, whispered statement pressed against his nipple, teeth sinking into the raised region before his chest vibrated against your lips, a roar stunted in his throat.

Fingers flexed in ardor fisted into the base of your neck, the collection of straining stands eliciting a pleasure sodden pain reverberating down your back and through your walls. Impatience blared in his stare, mouth half-snarled while your hands began sliding down the straining fabric.

“Then have me.”

The hand at your skull left, your fingertips treading down until your wrists caught, his last covering sliding down as you did, knees meeting the floor as your tongue slipped past his naval; wanton eyes kept his own, entrancement pulsing before and between you, the head of his covered cock pressing into your carotid before you freed him, the sight of his dick springing upward earning a throb from your cunt. A gratuitous growl thundered in his chest as he watched you with stark, demanding eyes, his hips leaning into your face, the tip of your nose burying into the hair outfitting the base, soft lips pressing teasing kisses into the scorching skin.

“You’re the only one I want—” the tip of your tongue skated over an obvious vein, the pulse beating into your mouth while your hand took hold at the solid shaft, grip squeezing into him, his teeth separating with a pant “—the only man I’d ever get on my knees for.”

Your other hand grasped at his hip bone, thumb digging into the hard, rounded surface of his greater trochanter, fingers massaging into the side of his hip, just barely reaching around to his ass, relishing in how firm every part of him was. Craving more of him, you curved your tongue around the shaft, hand moving up and back, slow strokes pulling at him while you listened to his breath catch.

A knee nudged you from him, your throat burning with unrestrained need before you attempted to lunge back into his pelvis, a hand barring you, yet not harming you, by your chin. Swallowing, your face fell into lust, famine for him sticking in your throat. Out of sight, the tip of his boot pushed between your legs, your body bowing at the sudden pleasure.

“You’re forgetting something,” he purred, taunting you with your own hunger by prolonging the time before you could take him into your mouth. “My good girl doesn’t get distracted, does she?”

Three stuttered breaths fell from longing lips, a pitiful half-tantrum at his feet before your hands tread red lines down his leg in preparation to slide the fallen clothing from him in line with his tall shoes. “No, Master, I don’t.”

An angry storm of hectic maneuvers played before you, hands tearing and grappling away the remaining textiles, the first boot shooting behind you with velocity as animalistic exigency possessed you. With one shoe left you took one hand and gripped his erection while biting the skin of his flexing inner thighs, free hand ripping down the last restricting mount of fabric and leather.

“Dirty, feral thing,” he breathed. “I think you’re more of a whore than anything else.”

Finally, his body standing naked and flushed and free, you flattened your tongue under his shaft and led it up, pressure pushing against him, eyes swimming in covetous admiration. The tips of your fingers bit into him, your tongue striping over his head, pussy clenching as you felt the ridges of his length pass into your mouth.

“I can be both, Master—” you tasted the salty collection of precum beading at his tip, dipped your tongue into his slit and ran your hand up and down his shaft, a huff of need stuttering in his chest “—I could be your whore—” the ridge of your top two teeth grazed his head “—and I could be your good girl—” firm, pliant lips pressed against him, grip switching to two teasing fingers along another vein “—I could be anything you want.”

“And a tease apparently.” His brow hitched, your strategy to rile him up working, earning what you wanted: the undeniable proof and presence of his need for you.

In his gaze you were a prisoner; you watched your warden while you finally pulled him into your mouth, tongue flexing under his shaft, feeling him pulsate against your teeth, lungs whining as you were overcome with want as he shuddered at the warm, wet, yearning environment your mouth offered him. When you placed your hand back over his hip bone, the other working dutifully along the unsheathed portion of his length, his own fingers clasped onto it, pain biting beneath his grip and revealing how incredibly strong his need was.

Spurred on by this, you brought him to the back of your mouth, his head hitting your soft palate and forcing an empty gag, a whine vibrating into him and bringing a tense of his jaw before it dropped slack again.

“Look at you – needy, pleading, trying to take all of me in that ti-,” his words faltered when you began sucking against him, cheeks hollowing as you built his release, seeing him grow restless.

His hips thrusted into you, the binding hand around your own cracking into your knuckles, the pain serving as a reminder that you were giving your last effort to him, the thought sinking your heart into the depths of your soul. Watching him come undone for you, having him at your mercy even in the slightest way, you were memorizing every piece of him; his smell, the way his skin began to glisten with a thin veil of sweat in the rising light, seeing hazy flashes of shooting stars frame him while his shoulders tided deeper and faster with each purposeful bob of your head.

The question of your worth came heavy and demanding into your mind, mouth tightening around him while your hand followed suit with each stroke, the thought catalyzing you into an inward spiral of the hatred you were working to right. All you could offer him – this man, this deity – was yourself, barely feeling content in how barren that was. Even in pleasuring him you felt you no longer deserved all that he gave you, feeling unworthy of even his twisted protection, guilt shredding into your lungs when remembering the purpose he’d instilled in you the last time you’d been here. To know this was the last time you’d spend with him that wouldn’t be spent in the suffocating grip of hatred – both from him and for yourself – was enough to keep you from caring if Snoke saw it at all.

What shame could be added to your existence? He’d already seen you at your worst, mentioning proudly how he’d watched the actions he’d inspired; what more pain could he cause that he hadn’t already by forcing you to sever completely the ties with the man you… The man you… Fuck. That can’t be right. Snoke couldn’t have been right.

Turning your hand on his hip so you were equally tied to him, your nails tore into the side of his index finger, a pitiful sob casting pleasure through his body as you accepted the terrifying truth of your feelings. Tears formed ready and waiting, your gaze set on his impossibly perfect features as they fluidly moved in line with the rising action building his climax, his mouth widening as grunts sputtered from his throat. A heathen’s roar sounded in his chest, his free hand gripping onto yours over his cock, guiding you in pressure and pace.

“Such a good – fuck – such a good girl for me.” Kylo tightened onto yours at his hip, unrefined desperation boundless in his regard. “Finish it,” he swallowed, “just like this.”

After several more strokes with his crushing guidance, his hand rushed into your hair, half-lidded eyes observing you in your attempt to keep his instruction. Warm streaks fell down your cheeks, his head falling back while you pulled him just barely from your mouth and worked his shaft with the hand he’d earlier led. Five breaths, each of increasing speed and volume, came from his slack jaw, the last a moan that ripped down your spine just as you felt the familiar slick, salty substance collect onto your tongue.

The hand in your hair took a fistful, nails scraping into you once more as he collected himself, your hand around his cock fucking him through his release, a sense of pure gratification forming in your chest as you bore witness to your spoils. To see him so incandescently sated, to know it was your final gift to him, your heart withered with pitiful remembrance of the words you’d delayed by creating it.

His breathing slowly came down, chest still rising with each lungful. Feeling him soften, you took him from your mouth, your now empty hand skating to his other hip, thumb petting over the smooth protrusion. His thumb wiped away the sweat that’d amounted over your temple, the hand which held onto yours caressing it limply.

“I wish I could give you more than this,” you said, pressing your nose into his hip, pressing a broken peck over the bone, a tear glittering down your cheek as the room became lighter with each solemn second.

Blinking eyes peered down to you, his hand dropping yours and collecting your jaw, leading you up from your knees. A single star flashed behind him, its appearance altered by stabbing tears while your lip trembled in the dawn-soaked room. A muscle under Kylo’s nose twitched, expression laden with that hinted concern you’d heard in his voice earlier. His attention went to your quivering chin, his thumb smoothing over your bottom lip and holding it there.

“What more are you willing to give?” Without looking away from your mouth, his eyebrows creased together, the words charged and strange between you, yet simultaneously evoking another spill of desire in your belly.

“Kylo,” you whispered, knuckles brushing up his abdomen, feeling him flex along your touch, “there’s nothing more I can… give.” Another hot rivulet streamed into the corner of your mouth. He didn’t know what you were referring to, and you bled for the part of him that you knew cared, but you couldn’t say anything more.

Lingering down your neck, two hands took on the monotonous task of unbuttoning your uniform’s top, your teeth replacing his thumb in its absence. “There’s always more.”

The heat rolling off his body neared that of a sun, your cheeks burning in the presence of the stifling nearness. The last button gave way and he found you again, two pairs of eyes equally searching the other, two separate reasons behind each. Letting your arms fall slack to your sides, he pushed the dress from your shoulders while you kicked your shoes off, his hands effortlessly unclasping your bra before your uniform had met the ground. Looking up at him, you shivered the article off and stepped out of the pile that’d amounted at your feet.

“I can feel how badly you need me,” he said, scorching lips branding the base of your neck, “there’s a reluctance within you, like you’re running away from something. There’s something else,” strong hands came over your hips, thumb pressing into the thin fabric of your panties before they tore through, his grip stretching the ruined garment until it snapped apart at both sides, falling to the floor silently as you caught your breath.

“I’m not running away,” you said, pulling his head from your neck. Now was the only time left to be honest; when you left here, you’d never return, and you were determined to spend your last moments with him ensuring he knew the actual truth you’d just as quickly steal from him later in the day. “I’m running to you, Kylo.”

Rapturous sparks lit when you forced your lips to his, fingers webbing behind his neck while he gripped around either of your thighs and pulled you from the ground, only taking a few steps and turning before lowering the two of you down. Over his shoulder you saw the galaxy reflected into the crimson glaze of the piano, two concurrent stars crossing a perpendicular path until they left view. Below you came the presence of his hardening cock, readying quickly to take you again.

“You want this,” Kylo said, head angling into your sternum, lips pressing into the pliant tissue of your chest, hands set firm at either of your hips while he shifted below you to center himself at your entrance.

“I want you, Kylo—” anguish fled down your face and onto his shoulder as only you knew how hopeless the wish was “—more than anything.”

A mess was forming in your urgent future, knowing that telling him the truth now would only make it harder to convince him of the opposite. But he had to know, even if just for a few hours; he needed to know how much you cared for him. The last thing you would do for him was make him aware of how truly complete he made you, how there was nothing for you to forgive him for, how the only thing you would ever ask of him again would be to hold you together while you tore yourself apart in his arms. Kylo Ren would know, or at the very least feel, how tragically you’d fallen for him.

A soft, agonizing grunt fell into your hair while you hungered for him to fill you, to feel him under you while you showered him in the affection you were instructed to abandon. With ease, fluids slipping freely down your thighs, he lowered you onto him. After a month of nothing, a wasted month of misplaced fury, you gave in to the song your body sang for him, skin igniting with hot goosebumps as your walls pulsed around him, your position allowing him to slide in to his base, your calves framing his thighs on the leather bench.

“Stars, you always feel so good,” you breathed, biting at his shoulder. “You’re perfect.”

He hummed, the low murmur sounding into your breast, full lips working towards your nipple. His hands lifted you, then set you down, then lifted again; he continued in this pattern, paced and deep, until you followed in his direction, moving on top of him. The feeling of your pussy pulling him in every time you slid away created a sense of euphoria, the way it felt to move for him at your own will. If it wasn’t purposeful, he was, in a way, making up for his actions back on Starkiller. It was disheartening, knowing on some level you’d stirred a guilt in him that wasn’t his to bear. Now, though, it resided wholly and entirely on your shoulders, your face burning beneath the evidence of your inevitable future.

His tongue laved over your nipple, his other hand working your free breast while he kneaded into it, swiping the peaked flesh with his thumb. The tip of his nose nuzzled into you, your skin shuddering while he encircled the bud, the friction rippling down to your core, cunt clenching around him while you continued to bounce to his set rhythm. His teeth teased you, your own biting back into him and causing him to release the sensitive flesh, his mouth instead suckling onto you.

“Every part of you,” you moaned, forearms hugging his head into your chest, chin resting at his crown while you he thrust upward and you slid down on him, hiccupped breaths leaving both of you, “I need it more than anything, fuck,” he grunted and just as quickly the Force was twisting around your swollen clit, his mouth trailing back up your neck. “More than anything, Kylo, I need you.”

Skin smacking together, breaths climbing and coiling into torrents of pleasure, skin burning against one another with an unfounded degree of heat and want – you pulled his face into yours, feeling the echoes of his chaotic release reverberate into your throat, the sound pushing you into your own. You’d never felt closer to him, never needed him more than in this moment, and through your climax you heard the words chorus in your head.

Opening your eyes, holding him while he came down, your fingers pushed sweat-stuck hair from his forehead while the Force dissipated, his cock pulsing in place beneath you. Above his head came another two stars, this time chasing after one another with a magnetism unknown to you, and you fought pointlessly against the unbidden tears which fell in sequence with the stars. Fingers twisting into his heated nape, you struggled to deny the only words ringing in the forefront of your mind, the deep caramel melting in his irises doing nothing to quell them.

I love you, you wanted to say. I love you and I never want to leave here, I never want to hurt you. Instead, though, you collapsed into him, back cresting with the evidence of your internal agony. If it were any other person than you, if it were any other set of circumstances, the act wouldn’t be selfish. That person could freely tell him these things and verbalize his worthiness. But it was you, and you had the responsibility of protecting an additional soul that didn’t deserve the fatality Snoke had threatened.

“Ky,” you whined, the nickname muffled into his bare skin.

He was a statue as you cried against him, obvious confusion tensing his muscles for a few minutes. With a rigid gentleness he pulled you from him, his arms shifting your legs until he could set one forearm beneath both of your knees and the other across your shoulders blades before he stood from the bench and turned toward the hallway. Puffy, pain-blinded eyes could barely see his path, but when you heard the room get smaller as he stood between your door and his, you knew he was taking you into his bed.

The cold sheets burned in contrast to your stifling skin, the comforter coming to cover you to your shoulders. He didn’t join you, though, and when you realized this you looked to find him standing beside you, regarding you with an indiscernible emotion, brows slightly knit while he considered you, hesitation heavy in his eyes.

“More than anything?” It was more a question for himself than you, introspection clear in his far away gaze.

You nodded your head once, his focus returning, looking startled by the small notion of reassurance, like he hadn’t meant for you to hear it. His throat bobbed and he went to turn, but your hand jolted for his, the touch eliciting the tensing of his jaw. Looking down at the connection, you saw an obvious discomfort come over him, though he kept the tips of his fingers at yours while he spoke.

“Sleep—” he looked back to your eyes after what had to have been twenty seconds “—the day isn’t done.”

His fingers twisted into a fist when he left yours. Watching you, he pulled what you could only assume was another undershirt from a drawer, keeping his eyes on yours until the door separated you from him. Shuffled movements snuck past the protected door, listening as he redressed out of sight. Before you heard the hiss of the elevator, you gave into the exhaustion which wrought over your body and brain, falling into a hard sleep. The best one you’d had since lying with him.

_

“Forgive me, I feel it again. The pull to the light.”

Grogginess swallowed you whole, body reluctant to come out of sleep even as it heard the interrupting words. It was Kylo, though you couldn’t see him, his voice modulated, the helmet obvious in the early light of the simulated sun.

“Kylo?” Fingers pressed into your eyes, scrubbing away the remnants of your earlier tears.

“Supreme Leader senses it,” he continued.

The mention of Snoke stunned your heart, back shooting up and dizzying you in the soft bed. You went to call out for him again, but you needed to hear what he was saying, letting his words sink into you as you regarded they could be the last you’d hear before hurting him.

“Show me again the power of the darkness, and I will let nothing stand in our way,” he paused, conflict clear even in the far away vocoder. “Show me, grandfather, and I will finish what you started.”

“Grandfather?”

Before you got the chance to unpack the curious phrasing, to question the lineage he’d never mentioned, he came from a room you hadn’t noticed before, the door hissing shut and locked behind him. He was outfitted in all his layers again, further away from you beneath his clothing.

Without regarding you, not even sparing a glance, he spoke. “Get dressed, the Command Shuttle is leaving in two minutes.”

[notgonnarememberthis]

Twenty-Nine

This is quite a departure from what I usually write but I love this family so much that I had to do a little hurt/comfort fic. That and this idea of a survivor’s guilt when it comes to those around serial killers is golden angst material and it was just begging to be written. Hope y’all enjoy

In retrospect of everything that’s happened, Jessica believes she’s kept herself impressively together. She has handled the paparazzi clamoring at every door she’s behind, the concerned looks from her friends, and the judgemental looks from her social circle.

The news hit nationwide last night, “The Surgeon’s Six Undiscovered Victims”, a press release that took her world, yet again, by storm. Every moment she finds peace she’s thrown into the vortex by no other than her ex-husband. Of course he had to reveal in a live interview that he had six lost victims, of course it had to bragging at the police that they never knew, of course it would send Malcolm into a guilt ridden spiral until he knew every single name.

All of this for an unsubstantiated claim of a clinical narcissist who fell out of the limelight when all of Nicholas Endicott’s shady business came uncovered. God forbid the Whitly’s not be in a headline for a while.

However, she’s kept herself busy. She dodges the questions with ease, laughing them off as what they were, bullshit. Rather she throws herself into her most recent charity project, absolutely determined to have an event go off without a hitch. Her work has kept her busy enough to have an excuse not to watch the news and if she didn’t have that she would check up on Gil and make sure he wasn’t throwing himself into work too soon.

“Mother!” She jumps at Malcolm’s voice glancing up from her papers. He stands by Ainsley in the doorway, both looking worriedly at her.

“Sorry. I was a little focused.” She gets up from her spot at the table hugging Ainsley first, then Malcolm. “You both look exhausted, Edith get us some coffee would you?” While the statement is mostly true, it’s a rather selfish request. Sleep has been creeping in on her for the past half hour but there’s too much to do before next weekend.

“I’m good, thanks.” Ainsley’s smile is forced. Her eyebrows furrow together studying her daughter’s face for a moment. Her smile, even the fake one, normally comes with such practiced ease that it’s hard to spot when she’s faking it for appearances. This is cardboard though, one that’s too exhausted to sell the image.

“We didn’t come for coffee.” Malcolm frowns, she nods to Edith dismissing her. The woman leaves allowing them to have their talk in private.

“Don’t tell me you came to talk about the news. You know your father is a clinical narcissist and with Endicott’s empire crumbling he’s not in the one anyone is talking about. He’s desperate. We just need to-”

“We found the six bodies.” He cuts her off stopping her in her tracks. “I visited Dad and he told me where they were buried. I went with Dani and JT. What he said is true.” The information feels like a punch to the chest.

“We don’t know that it was him,” she tries desperately at denial yet again. “He could have mentored another serial killer for all we know.”

“He gave us enough detail to ID all the women and how they died.” She runs her hands through her hair desperate for something to hold onto. “We wanted you to hear it from us first.”

“No doubt it will be on the news before the end of the night.” Ainsley adds bitterly. She notices the angry look exchanged between the two, with her ambition she has little doubt that Ainsley wanted to be the one to break the story but it was Malcolm who insisted they talk first. She’ll never fault her daughter for her ambition though, it truly is her best quality.

The two rock on their feet. Years of practice as a mother has taught her one thing and that it’s never a good thing. They’re holding something back, trying to will the other to talk about it first. Normally it would be about a priceless vase they broke in their careless playing or sneaking out past their curfews. God she misses when it was that simple. “What?”

“Ains,” Malcolm swallows heavily, it’s a nickname he only uses under a vulnerable state. She braces herself as Ainsley pulls a manilla folder out of her purse and hands it to her.

“What’s this?” Neither answer, rather their eyes look anywhere but at her both trying their best to stay put together.

“We wanted you to know before you saw it on TV.” She opens the folder finding the face of a much younger woman smiling back at her. The photo is faded and yellowed but her features were indistinguishable. Wavy brown hair spills over her shoulders, blue eyes sparkling back at the camera. Even her posture gave away everything she needed to know. The woman looks like her.

“Who is this?” The emotion thick in her voice nearly shatters everything she’s kept so tightly together in the past few months. She’ll be damned if she lets it go now.

Ainsley straightens, taking a breath and in her best reporter tone lays out the details, “Her name is… was Erica Watson. She went missing the summer of 1985.”

“The year I met your father.” She slumps against the table, exhaustion weighing heavily on her shoulders. “She was meant to be a stand in for me, wasn’t she?”

Neither answer but that’s enough to confirm her worst suspicions. For years she’d had those lingering thoughts in the back of her head. That he’d never killed her. That for whatever fucking reason that in his twisted mind she was special. Clearly special enough to kill a supplement of her. 

Disgust fills her mouth, a bitter laugh creeping out untethered from her control. “Fuck.” The questions will become unrelenting. She turns her back not wanting either of them to see the tears building up in her eyes. She hears Ainsley sniff and she feels horribly. How must they feel, finding out that their father wanted to kill their mother? But with the hot tears rolling down her cheeks out of her control she can’t bring herself to turn back to them. She wants Gil, he’d know what to do, he’d know what to say in all of this madness but he’s confined to a damn hospital bed.

She throws her glass at the wall in a last fit of anger before the sobs take over. She weeps for the poor girl who died because of her. For the family who went thirty-five years without knowing what had happened to their daughter. God she couldn’t have been more than twenty-three.

She feels the impact of a body hitting her in the back, arms wrapping almost hesitant around her middle. Ainsley’s hair tickles her arms as she presses her forehead against the back of her shoulders. She pushes the arms away and she can feel the disappointment radiating from her daughter. Instead she turns, quickly pulling her back into a tight embrace. She strokes the blonde hair back as she looks over her shoulder at Malcolm. He stands so tightly wound, as if a single move will break everything. Yet his eyes always give away all, he’s just so scared.

She reaches out an arm to him and he crashes into the hug all the same, his arms wrapping easily around the both of them. Holding them to her makes it easier to breathe, the past doesn’t matter so long as they’re safe and close to her. She will make plans to contact the families of the six killed, she’ll pay for funerals and burials all the same. They deserve that closure, after all.

But for now she’s content in holding her own family close, as they hold the broken pieces of her together.

[thebibliomancer]

Shadows of the Dark Crystal liveblog pt 11

Shadows of the Dark Crystal by J. M. Lee because I want Naia and Kylan to have a relaxing chapter.

Last times on book: Naia is on a journey to Ha’rar to defend her brother against accusations of treason. She is joined by the Song Teller Kylan who is on his way to Stone-in-the-Wood and wants to prove that the Hunter is real. Kylan and Naia fall down a hole, find that the vein of darkened crystals has spread to Spriton lands, and narrowly escape from a darkened ruffnaw.

Chapter 13

Kylan and Naia find a bridge out so the only option is to go through the Spooky Woods at night. Wait, really? The only option??

The next day after the cave adventure, Naia learns that not all mountains are the same mountains and in fact many are geographically different. Then she punches Kylan for laughing at her about it.

Friendship!

Otherwise she’s very excited about getting to the river. Finally, some actual moisture!

I-I think Naia doesn’t know what sand is?

Naia was ever thankful for the shoes Maudra Mera had given her. As the grasses gave way to drier weeds and shrubs, the earth became salty and golden. Walking it barefoot, or even in her first set of bark sandals, would have made the journey near impossible.

She’s never seen sand!

Kylan: “There used to be dozens of [Podling] communities, all throughout the area. But their numbers have been dwindling, and many families end up living with Spriton communities when their colonies become too few. Some say it’s poor crops.”

But Naia and Kylan look around the the bountiful land and think ‘doubt’

Kylan blames the Hunter which seems likely actually if he just kills random Gelfling in their homes at night. But this is also the point where the darkening starts affecting crops, right?

Could be a combination of failing crops and a dude going around killing people at random. Both could lead to smaller comunities congregating together to pool resources and for protection.

Apparently Kylan is like a noble goat because he takes to climbing the ridge on the way to the river even more nimbly than Naia.

They reach eyeshot of the river just as the Great Sun is setting.

“The Black River,” [Naia] said. A smile came over her face. “We’re so close! We’ll build a raft and ride it all the way to Ha’rar. Are there any falls?”

“Ha! How would I know?” Kylan asked. “This is new to me too!”

“No songs about Jarra-Jen and the Black RIver?” Naia was teasing, but when he shook his head, she felt some disappointment.

See, now you wish he had a song for every occasion.

When the two reach the ravine they find that the bridge has been broken. And there’s no way across the ravine without it. Naia is disappointed because she really wanted to make it to the river and stick her feet in it.

“Naia kicked a pebble over the side of the cliff and tugged at her locs. If only she had wings! Yet there was nothing at her back but soreness and a heavy traveling pack that would probably weigh her down too much to make the crossing, even if she had been able to fly.”

There’s a lot of Naia angsting over not having her wings yet in this book which makes me think that its got to either end with her getting them or deciding that she doesn’t need to hurry to grow up. And I dunno, I don’t think wings just come in like FWOOP so I think acceptance is more likely?

How does that even work though? Do they just push through the skin? Do the Gelfling... molt? I wanna know!

On their way backtracking down the cliff, Kylan stops at a boulder to do some dream-etching. Because he can just lay on hands and write on a boulder. So cool.

Because he’s the good best boy, Kylan wrote a warning to other travelers about the bridge being out. Naia doesn’t point out that most Gelfling couldn’t read.

They can’t?!

No, I guess the Skeksis wouldn’t encourage literacy programs. They prefer the Gelfling dumb.

Since they had to detour, now Kylan and Naia are traveling in the dark. Naia feeds Neech the shoulder eel some glow moss and he starts glowing after only a few moments!

That’s cool! And a remarkably quick metabolism!

Kylan be like ‘i gotta write this down later’ ha

Apparently the detour is taking them through the Dark Wood, which Tavra specifically warned Naia not to go through and which Naia is now pointedly ignoring in favor of making up for lost time.

Kylan is nervous and thinks it would be better to wait for daylight. Naia tells him WWJJD? What Would Jarra-Jen Do?

“I don’t know if you were listening, but the Dark Wood at night is when Jarra-Jen met the Hunter and was chased until he had to leap off a cliff into the Black River,” Kylan retorted.

Heh.

But Naia points out that Jarra-Jen was alone and they aren’t. And Kylan concedes that if he avoids ever seeing the Hunter, he’ll never be able to confront him.

As a Drenchen and a Spriton, and of course as Gelfling, neither Naia nor her friend were unfamiliar with forests.

They get mad racial bonuses. Simply ludicrous.

But the Dark Forest is a thing unto itself.

The strong pillars of ebony bark and dark turquoise leaves were interrupted only by thick brush, shrubs, spiny rocks, and flowering land corals with huge white night blossoms. The earth was padded with layers and layers of leaves and moss, rippling over the forms of the ever-present roots that sometimes arched from the land in swooping forms that created hoops and arches under which they walked.

Naia asks Kylan if his bard-brain knows the name of a vine root and he suggests she just ask. The vine. And brings back up the conversation re: her dreamfasting with not-Gelfling.

She tells him that it never happened until recently but she’s sometimes had trouble controlling her dreamfasting. Gasp! Possible protagonist power! All along she thought she was bad at control but really she had a secret gift!

Also, is this related to how Kira formed an angry mob of animals and had them swarm the Scientist? I thought that she just learned Beastmaster.

Also also, she wasn’t touching any of them so, no, probably unrelated.

The two Gelfling hear a low eerie moan in the forest which spooks the glowy flowers until they close up. Naia hides Neech so his glowy doesn’t give them away.

In the darkness, something huge and serpentine pushes through the forest.

Kylan backed up against Naia and they stood together, breathing in sync. When Kylan’s fingers snaked around Naia’s wrist, she tried to brush him away.

“Don’t grab me now. I need to be able to move.”

Kylan jumped, moving away from her, though the warm grasp on her wrist only tightened. Voice piqued with surprise, he said, “I’m not...”

Oooooooooooo what a spooky! This chapter and the last I missed out not reading on Halloween!

What really grabbed Naia was a cluster of tendrils which yanks her into the air and tosses her through the forest from tree to tree, separating her from Kylan

=O

And then they just drop her. Rude.

No sooner had she regained her footing than she heard something rushing toward her. She ran as roots and branches lunged for her, scratching her arms and legs in their attempt to catch hold of her once more. Her ears burned as a flock of hollerbats burst from within a knotted old tree trunk, screeching and flapping their clawed wings as they thrashed past, but she couldn’t stop to curse them. She knew she was running deeper and deeper into the wood, but she had no other choice. If she stopped, she would be caught, devoured by the Dark Wood.

She’s getting the full Night in a Spooky Wood experience and I am here for it. And here for feeling bad for her. Geez. Poor Naia.

Hopelessly separated from Kylan she decides to head towards the Black River in hopes that he’ll think the same thing and they can meet up there.

But as she walks, she sense the presence of something lying in wait at the center of the Dark Wood. Something... off.

Yes, the Dark Wood sang the song of Thra, but notes were off-key, as if it had forgotten parts, or was too distracted -- too disturbed -- to fall back into tune.

Very evocative! Very unnerving...

Then someone calls her name.

The voice paralyzed her, a wisp of cold air tickling the backs of her arms. She turned toward it, wary in disbelief but unable to deny what all her senses were telling her. A Gelfling boy stepped out of the tree cover, exactly her age, with matching clay-colored skin marked with Drenchen spots and speckles. his locs hung at his shoulders, and he wore a beautifully embroidered black-and-violet soldier’s uniform. Naia’s breath was stuck in her throat, her heart leaping.

It was Gurjin.

??????????

[snezfics-n-shit]

Whumptober Day 25: Cranky

Fandom: Ace Attorney 

Characters: Miles Edgeworth, Phoenix Wright, Trucy Wright, Athena Cykes, Apollo Justice

Notes: Post-DD. Established married!Wrightworth because what else did you expect? Miles has been taking time out of his schedule to care for the employees of the Wright Anything Agency after a particularly brutal cold season. He’s been doing great, he’ll swear on his life. The patience of a saint, that’s Miles Edgeworth for you. He is totally not going to completely lose it. 

     He couldn’t believe it. For the first time this week, Miles didn’t have to scrape perfectly decent breakfast, breakfast he made, into the garbage. He could have sworn it was proper etiquette for guests he and his husband so graciously welcomed in their home to at least try to clean their plates. 

“They live alone, babe. It’ll do them good for us to extend some hospitality,” he remembered Phoenix saying. At first, Miles didn’t mind at all. He may not have been any Florence Nightingale, but he saw merit in caring for his husband’s colleagues while they were unwell. He didn’t even complain when the two infected his husband with a cold that reduced his voice to a hoarse crackle and kept Miles awake with hours of coughing and sneezing assaulting his ears. No, no. It was no trouble at all, really.

He could have sworn when he first welcomed Apollo and Athena as guests, he was up for anything they asked for. He could prepare soup with his eyes closed, and by the second day of Phoenix’s cold, Miles was very tempted to do so just so he could say he got something resembling sleep. As the number of hands helping him dwindled to zero, Miles’s energy was wearing a little thin. Just a little thin, though, not too much at all.

Then there was the texting. Since Miles was the only one in the house whose voice was audible, his cell phone was constantly blowing up with short, grammatically lacking text messages. Hardly any of them allowed him time to fulfill one person’s request without being bombarded with other unrelated tasks they expected of him. He could make tea and he could check pages of calculus homework, but not simultaneously; there was only one of him. He would do it again, though, really. Go ahead, ask him to care for ten sick people, and for a month this time. Just direct a hospital’s worth of patients to his house, why don’t you?

Oh, no, Miles wasn’t losing his patience at all. He was mature and collected, so he brought anything his family and guests asked for without a complaint. That was true, wasn’t it? Or did thoughts to himself about how tired he was getting from running around the house grabbing whatever anyone wanted count? He was doing so well the first three days of the arrangement, so surely at the tail end of the week his eyes shouldn’t be twitching from exhaustion he was most definitely not feeling.

“I’m really happy to finally taste your cooking, Mr. Edgeworth.” Athena’s recovered voice startled Miles. He had almost forgotten more people could speak than just him. “Trucy kept telling me you were a really good cook, and I’m definitely not disappointed.” Something about that felt underhanded, Miles was sure of it. She was doubting his skills as a cook, wasn’t she?

“You’ve been really good to us, Papa.” Trucy smiled. “Thank you so much!” Of course Trucy was the first to verbally thank him for his efforts. She was taught manners and was clearly not raised in a barn. And no, Apollo, emojis and ‘memes’ did not count.

“You’re very,” Miles heard his voice crack and cleared his throat, “you’re very welcome, Trucy.” 

“Yeah, thank you so much, hon.” Phoenix was the second person Miles could count on for gratitude. What Miles really wanted to hear, however, was an apology for all the sleep he lost thanks to Phoenix’s poor volume control late at night. There was always something, be it sniffling, sneezing, or coughing that would start just as Miles thought he finally had some peace and quiet.

“Thanks.” Apollo said nothing besides that and continued eating the last of his toast. What a wordsmith, wasn’t he? A real Shakespeare.

“You’re both quite welcome as well.” Miles’s nose twitched ever so slightly as he spoke. “Are you all finished? I’d like to,” he cleared his throat again, “clean the dishes soon.” He knew no one would bother helping him with the task. They all had much more important things to do like watch television or play games on their phones.

Just as he thought, all responses were a chorus of confirming they were finished eating and not a single offer to help. Despite the fact they were all clearly more than ready to be back on their feet, Miles was on his own in carrying the pile of dishes to the counter by the sink. None of the dishes were his. He wasn’t hungry, and the lord knew he wasn’t about to be a hypocrite by committing the horrid act of wasting food. He would never be so ungrateful, so wasteful, so--

“Oh, I’d actually like a refill of orange juice.” Apollo asked, just as he always did since he arrived last Thursday.

“Your legs aren’t broken.” Miles snapped without even thinking about what he had just said.

“Woah, where did that come from?” Athena was taken aback by Miles’s harsh tone.

“YEAH, SOMEONE’S CRANKY!” Widget blurted in its usual loud and robotic tone, further irritating Miles.

“Would you mind telling that thing to put a sock in it?” Miles clenched his teeth, becoming more frustrated when Phoenix stopped him from reaching for his dishwashing gloves.

“Hey, if something’s bothering you, just tell us.” Phoenix wanted to de-escalate as well as he could. “Did something happen at work?”

“I wouldn’t know, Phoenix. I haven’t been in the office all week!” Miles was so caught up in the outburst he failed to hear how hoarse he sounded. He hardly thought anything when the strain caused him to cough. 

“Oh, babe.” Phoenix’s expression softened. “You’re not feeling well, are you?” He kissed his husband’s forehead. “Mm, you’re warm, too.”

“Please, not in front of guests. Not to mention-- mention, hhh…” Miles turned away from Phoenix’s concerned gaze. “Hh’uurrssSHH” He sneezed in his elbow, leaving a damp spot on his pink pajama sleeve. He instinctively pressed a hand under his running nose, not doing anything to get Phoenix off his back. He wasn’t even done yet. “Hu’RRsshhooh! HH’RSSHOOH!” How disgusting.

“We can do the dishes, Papa!” Trucy offered. She looked at Apollo and Athena, who both nodded in agreement. “It’s only right to return the favor.” What a sweetheart she was, absolutely her father’s daughter.

“You’re going back to bed.” Phoenix put his head on Miles’s shoulder and embraced him from behind. “We’re not going to let you lift a finger.”

Miles found himself spacing out for the duration of Phoenix ushering him to bed. He really was out of sorts, wasn’t he? He couldn’t even remember stepping out of the kitchen. It was almost dreamlike to find himself bundled up in bed. 

“Are you okay?” Phoenix waved his hand in front of Miles’s face. “It was way too easy to get you into bed and you haven’t said anything since we were in the kitchen.” He gently took Miles’s glasses and set them aside.

“Of course I’b dot okay.” Miles grumbled, turning on his right side. “I haved’t slept ihd days, we have the worst house guests I’ve ever had the displeasure of beetig, ahd by owd husbahd wod’t eved let be wash the dishes.”

“You’re a real ray of sunshine this morning.” Phoenix brushed Miles’s hair with his fingers. “My poor sick grouch of a husband.” He cooed.

“I’b dot a grouch.” Miles frowned, hardly supporting his claim. 

“What would you call yourself, then?” Phoenix made a small hum. “With how you acted in the kitchen, I wouldn’t be surprised if you poked your head out of a trashcan and told us to scram.”  

“I wasd’t by best, was I?” Miles knew that was the understatement of the year. That tickle in his throat that pestered him, admittedly since he went to bed last night, finally became a full-fledged cough. “I feel awful.” He croaked.

“I know, babe.” Phoenix sighed. “It’s our turn to take care of you, now. You did so much all by yourself, we’re gonna show you how grateful we are. You’ll even have Apollo and Athena to-”

“Doh.” Miles said firmly. “They’re goi’g hobe. Today.”

“Alright, alright. Then it’ll be just me and Trucy.”

“That’s better.” 

Phoenix helped Miles sit up so he could fluff the pillow behind him. He gave a sympathetic smile as he listened to Miles’s thick, hardly effective sniffling. 

“You must be so tired.” Phoenix let Miles lie back down. “I’m sorry if I kept you up all night.”

“I ab ahd you did.” Miles confirmed flatly. 

Miles just closed his eyes for a moment, only to be disturbed by something poking into his mouth. He made a soft grunt, dismissing it until that horrible beeping had him opening his eyes again. He watched a blurry figure resembling Phoenix walk outside his field of vision, only for the figure to return a few moments later. He felt something cold and damp rest on his forehead and flinched from the dramatic contrast in temperature. 

“Is it too cold?” Phoenix’s voice was muffled by Miles’s congestion-affected hearing. When Miles shook his head in response, Phoenix gave a sympathetic smile and gently adjusted the cool compress in place. He looked over at the doorway and spotted Athena and Apollo watching from outside the room. He mouthed something along the lines of ‘he’s resting.’

“I should apologize.” Miles said groggily. “The way I acted was terribly rude.”

“Hey, hey.” Phoenix shushed his husband softly. “You weren’t feeling like yourself this morning. Athena and Apollo aren’t strangers, and Trucy and I definitely know you wouldn’t act like that on a regular basis.” He kissed his warm cheek. “You were just a little cranky, is all.”

“That’s dot ad excuse.” Miles closed his eyes again. “It was udcalled for.”

"Mr. Edgeworth?" Athena couldn't help but speak up. "We accept your apology, but the boss is right. We know you don't always act like that."

"You were pretty rude." Apollo muttered just before Athena gave him a light nudge with her elbow. "But, uh," he scratched the back of his head, "we probably deserved it." 

Miles refused to have a serious discussion sounding like he did, so he yanked about five or six tissues from the end table tissue box. The amount seemed to be just enough by the time he was done. He checked the remaining contents of the box before tossing the used tissues in the trash bin.

“No one deserved the harsh words I used.” What Miles’s voice lost in congestion was made up for in hoarseness. “It wasn’t right.”

“You can’t be on model behavior all the time, hon.” Phoenix massaged Miles’s hand with his thumb. He noticed Miles starting to look annoyed again. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re too nice about this.” Miles grumbled. His mood wasn’t completely improved. He would come up with more excuses to wallow in excess guilt if he wasn’t so, so very tired. 

The next thing the trio of lawyers heard from him was one of his ‘world famous’ snores, as Phoenix jokingly described them when Miles wasn’t in the room. Miles was completely out cold when Trucy tiptoed in, intending on telling him the dishes were clean and put away. 

“Papa’s asleep?” Trucy whispered and Phoenix answered with a nod. “Don’t worry,” she directed her assurance to Apollo and Athena, “he’ll be in a better mood when he wakes up, I promise.”

. . .

     It was two in the afternoon when Miles finally woke up. All built up grumpiness washed away in his sleep and with a clear head, he felt as if he were in good enough shape to climb out of bed and see if his family needed anything. Just as he reached for his glasses, he found an envelope that wasn’t there before. It wasn’t sealed, so the card inside slid out easily into his hand. 

The card was handmade, covered in variations of ‘Thank You’ written in different colored pencils. It was easy to tell whose message was whose, especially Athena’s multilingual expressions of gratitude and Phoenix’s barely legible handwriting. Miles felt himself tear up a little, not noticing Phoenix and Trucy standing by the bedroom doorway.

“We thought you’d appreciate that.” Phoenix was holding a steaming mug of tea, likely made just recently. He either had very strong husband intuition or just planned on waking Miles up when it was ready. He took a couple tissues from the box on the end table to use as a makeshift coaster to set the mug down on. “You should also know our guests left today as promised.”

“Before they left, we all made that card.” Trucy had her hands behind her back. “It was Polly’s idea!” 

So Apollo was grateful after all. No, no. Miles wasn’t going to let himself fall back into that sort of attitude.

“We were going to make you soup but we didn’t know for sure if you would be hungry.” Phoenix handed the mug over to Miles, who accepted it gratefully. He watched Miles take a moment to inhale the steam with that smile he always had whenever Phoenix made him tea. There was a quality in Phoenix’s brews that Miles could never replicate no matter how hard he tried. “I’m glad to see you smiling again.”

“I think tea will suffice, thank you.” Miles’s voice was in worse shape than before. If this was how he sounded the first day into this cold, he wasn’t at all looking forward to the upcoming days that would surely go downhill from here. “I would hate to waste any of your cooking.”

“Oh yeah,” Phoenix chuckled nervously, “sorry about all that food you had to throw out. While you were sleeping, Trucy and I realized that must have bothered you a lot.” Indeed it did, as ashamed as Miles now felt for letting it get to him. 

“I accept your apology,” Miles took a sip from the mug, “if only because you make a wonderful cup of tea.” He laughed briefly, causing a vibrating sensation in his chest that made him need to cough. 

“Oh! Right!” Trucy presented what she had been hiding behind her back: a brand new jar of vapor rub. “We picked this up today! Do you want to put this on yourself or should Daddy do it?” 

“I think I can do this myself.” Miles set down the mug so he could take the jar. He had just started dating Phoenix when he first experienced the substance’s decongestant properties. Phoenix applied it the first few times, but Miles was never a fan of how Phoenix knew exactly what parts of his chest were ticklish. He did, however, like how Phoenix was not at all judgmental about his unfamiliarity with the product. 

“I did say you wouldn’t be lifting a finger.” Phoenix ruffled his husband’s hair. “I’m kidding, of course. Just know if there’s anything you need, you say the word and we’ll get it for you.”

“And I would like you to know,” Miles kissed Phoenix’s cheek, “if I’m too demanding, just tell me.”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen.” 

Phoenix was just going to pretend he didn’t see Miles’s devilish smirk just then.

[sailorsilverladybug]

Now that it's all over, I wanted to let you in on the past couple of weeks of my life. It's been rather stressful and hectic, and some of it rather frightening, so please bear with me. I doubt this is a surprise to any of you, but we are living in the middle of a pandemic.

Unfortunately, it is not under control. Not even close. And while I won't go into politics in this venue, I will say that I am both angry with how this has been handled in my country, and afraid of what the future will bring.

So, here goes. Last week my sister-in-law convinced me to go with her into one of the nearby cities to shop and go to a local casino (which practices social distancing and refuses entry to anyone not wearing a mask). We had been out before, and I needed things for the house, so I went. And I had a blast. We had a lot of fun and just got to hang out and spend time doing girl things.

But this past Friday, the 14th, around mid-morning, I started feeling ill. I had a headache that was nothing like my migraines or a stress headache. It centered just behind my eyes. I started to have a runny nose and felt strangely out of touch with my surroundings. Worse, I started having trouble breathing. I told my husband, who called his work and warned them he might be infected. Then we started calling the local hospital to find out about testing.

We registered to get tested. The woman who registered us said there would be a sign on the side of the primary care physician's office that we should call when we got there Monday. Because we live in a tiny rural town, the hospital only does testing between 9:00 and 12:30, Monday through Friday.

We had to wait until Monday to get tested. An entire weekend, wondering if I was going to get sicker and sicker. With my pre-existing conditions I was sure if I had Covid-19, it would be a death sentence.

Added on top of that, my husband totally lost it when I tried to talk to him about my wishes if something happened to me. He absolutely refused to listen and for a moment I thought he was going to throw himself on the ground and throw a real fit like our son did once when he was small. So, I started putting everything in order, just in case. I spent most of Friday, Saturday, and Sunday putting together my own memorial service, just in case. I made written notes to doctors and made sure our life insurance was all set.

All of this took an even bigger toll on me than the continued headache and the congestion. Then, probably because of stress, I started feeling sick to my stomach. It wasn't pleasant. The stress got so overwhelming, and nothing wanted to go right, and I was just ready to tear my hair out and run down the street screaming. That would have been a rather embarrassing arrest, so I'm glad I had some self-control.

While we were waiting for the testing to start, I worked for several hours to put together a back-tracing list that had everywhere I had been for the last three weeks, where my husband had been, and even the places I knew my sister-in-law had gone. Then, on Monday morning, at just before eight, Steve and I left to go and get tested. Since we were afraid of exposing anyone else, we walked (and I walked up a very big hill almost completely without help!)

By this point, I firmly believed I didn't have Covid-19, but I wasn't about to take chances with anyone else's health and safety. So we got to the hospital, saw the sign on the side of the primary care physician's building, and made the call that we were there... except, we hadn't found the right sign. The one we were reading was the one ON the side of the building. Not AT the side of the building. So, after my husband discovered our mistake (forty minutes on hold later), we called the second number and waited for a response.

Now, I'll be honest here... by this time, I was hot, tired, afraid, and just plain mad. I held it together, but I'm pretty sure my diatribe on anyone refusing to wear masks was heard ten miles away. By the end of my rant, both the others waiting in their cars to be tested had rolled up their windows (it went on for a REALLY long time).

Then a nice gentleman came out. I turned to my husband in a panic and made him promise he wouldn't let me bite the poor guy (which is a tendency I have when I am in extreme pain and a doctor gets too close). He walked us through what would happen and I asked if he would let my husband hold my head, partly to avoid biting him, and partly because Steve just makes me feel better. The man agreed, Steve leaned my head against his chest, and I sat on my walker and waited with my eyes closed for the torture to begin.

I'll be honest, while it totally sucked, it wasn't quite as bad as I had made it in my head. It felt like he was trying to tickle my brain, and I think I begged him to stop and said "oh S***" A LOT, but in spite of the discomfort, I survived it. Watching Steve go through it a minute later was almost worse, because I knew how much it sucked. He had his hands fisted and was shaking the whole time. He was stoic about it, but afterwards, when I made the quip about tickling the brain, he said "more like drilling," and just shook his head.

The gentleman we had been speaking to (I call him a gentleman because he was incredibly kind and gentle) said we might have our results as early as today, which was both a surprise and a blessing, because without Steve going back to work, we weren't sure how we would even manage to get food next week, let alone pay our rent, electric, and other bills, or set money aside for winter heating.

We were on our way back when my sister-in-law (Steve's brother's wife) drove past. She yelled at us to stay where we were, and we did, because we were friggin' exhausted by this point. She picked us up and drove us home after taking her own test about ten minutes later.

So, we waited. Now, I'll be honest. By this point I was about 98% sure that none of us had Covid-19, but we didn't take chances. Steve works in a grocery store. Sometimes he is stocking shelves, sometimes running a register, and sometimes he is out at the fuel island (the store gas station) pumping gas for people, and taking their money. So we knew if he went to work he could expose a LOT of people. We were very careful.

At 9:00 on the dot this morning I received the phone call telling me that I was Covid-19 negative! I bounced in my seat through the whole call. She didn't have Steve's results yet, so we waited. Around eleven, my sister in-law got her results. And then around one Steve got his. None of us are infected, thankfully. Steve called his work and let them know he is free to return (not a moment too soon) and will be going back tomorrow.

In the meantime, all the things we couldn't do because we had to self-isolate need to be taken care of, including several errands like getting dog food. So he has been rushing around getting things done all afternoon. Then I sat down and started writing, because that is just how I process things. I put on some music and just let my fingers fly over the keyboard.

My week sort of sucked, but the bright side is, I don't have Covid-19. Now that you know that, it's time I got into a subject that has really been bothering me. If you don't want to read further, you don't have to, but I really wish you would, and that you would spread the message along.

Every single person who chooses to wear a mask in spite of the annoyance it causes, is a hero to me. Every one of you who has gone without going to the club, who hasn't been going to church, who hasn't done any of the other things that happen in big groups. All of you who have been frustrated, but who know that your actions can either protect or harm other people... You are all heroes. You make a difference. Just as much as necessary workers. Just as much as doctors and nurses. You are heroes.

For those of you who don't wear masks, social distance, or use proper protection procedures, I am begging you, don't let this disease take away what you hold dear. Be safe, be smart. Listen to the doctors and nurses. Listen to the people begging you to wear a mask. Don't put yourself (or your loved ones) through what I just experienced.

Each time you get out of your car to go in a store, put a fresh mask on. Each time you touch something that has been touched by other people, use hand sanitizer. Stay at LEAST six feet apart. Wash your hands constantly, and thoroughly, for at least 20 seconds. Avoid touching your face (or the outside of your used masks!) and be very careful.

You don't want to go through the worry and the fear that you might have been exposed. But more than that, you don't want to be worried that you gave Covid-19 to someone you love. Please, be careful, be kind, and be safe. I don't want to lose you from this world. Every single one of us is special and has a purpose. Don't let your light go out. Take care of yourselves, and the rest of us.

Now, I'm going to climb off my soap-box and go do something completely unrelated to death and dying for a few hours. I might play a video game, or write a funny story. I might blast some music and sing off-key (loudly). Who knows. All I know is, I've had enough of fear and death to last a lifetime.

I wish you all well. God bless you.

Tori

Sailor Silver Ladybug

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

Natural Selection.

Cas is 'The Secret Boyfriend' in Dean's phone.

He was originally Cass, till Cas saw it once and was horrified enough for Dean to feel guilty.

Soon enough, he was Cas <3 because he happened to leave his cell lying around Sam.

And then, when Cas and Dean started - well - calling each other boyfriends; Charlie had frowned when he'd referred to it as starting to date, because apparently, they'd been doing that for years already - Dean changed it himself to 'Bf', induced by a particular drunken night of missing him terribly.

There were further transitions, all revolving about the same theme. There was a certain thrill, Dean realised. Occasionally, Cas would want to know what he was being called that week, with that soft smile on his face, and Dean would be proud to tell him. 

Sometimes he'd have to explain the nicknames. Good times.

He never has to ask, though. Dean has been Humanity in Cas’s phone, long since Crowley got his hands on it.

One sunny morning, during breakfast in their windowless kitchen, Cas asks him again. Dean just nudges his phone in his direction, occupied in trying to get his omelette fit in the pan just right.

Cas laughs when he sees, Cas, secret boyfriend. He reads it aloud to Dean, who has his back turned to him, shirtless and apron adorned.

Dean practically stutters around to stare at him. "But -" He was sure he'd put Cherrypie earlier that week, so how could it have changed since - unless, of fucking course, Gabriel must have got his hands on it again. Goddammit. It seems to be his newest way of annoying Dean. "I didn't -" He begins.

But Cas has a faint smile on his lips, as he edits it himself, nimble fingers now having learned to be quick as they dance across the keyboard.

Dean leans over his shoulder to read, and Cas tilts his head to let Dean see. "That made it seem like there might be others." His scruff strokes Dean's bicep as he told him. It tickles.

"Other secret boyfriends?" Dean repeats, licking his lips, leaning in further and allowing Cas to press his lips to the corner of Dean's shy smile.

"Other Cas's." Cas corrects.

"Nah." Dean shakes his head, if only to get Cas's lips to move against his cheek. "You're the only Cas for me, Cas." Cas's lips curl into a smile, and it's a smooth transition, he can feel it right on his skin. Dean loves being close to Cas.

"You're the only Dean for me too." Cas tells him frankly, dimpling as he finally plants an actual kiss on Dean's lips, by using a hand to turn his jaw to get it on the mark just right. Dean's eyes close instantly, when Cas cups his face. They linger.

For a moment too long, or maybe too little, they're lost. Then, Dean lets his hand fall on the back of Cas's neck, and ghost the inside of his collar, and Cas shifts in his seat, putting some distance between them. If Cas hadn't pulled back just then, Dean could bet he would've ended up straddling him - even for as sweet as they'd been kissing.

Cas sighs, softly, as if he was returning from somewhere. "Dean, I think your omelette just turned into scramble."

"Oh, well." Dean grins, straightening. Satisfied. "You'd eat whatever I fed you."

"You've taught me that's love." Cas throws back, half accusatory, mostly just smiling. Dean feels a flutter in his insides at the word, as he turns back to the stove.

And that's the story of how Cas started being called The Secret Boyfriend by Dean's phone.

***

There's Cas smiling at him, head tucked under Dean's arm and everything, whenever he unlocks his phone to his home screen.

When Dean got his first phone under his real name, he was seventeen.

John surprised him with it.

It wasn't even his birthday or anything. There was a vamp nest, a couple cities over. And that time, Sam had won the argument with Dad, and the brothers were to stay behind - and go to school, Sam had primarily argued - while John went off to take care of the hunt. But it was close to holiday season, so no motels had vacancies for more nights than one, and they were looking to stay indefinitely - so John's only option had been to rent a flat.

It was a one bedroom place, the kind which would've been cramped if they'd had any furniture at all. The building had an air of misery, but it was probably just the cold. Even the landlord didn't live there anymore.

But now, Sam was thirteen and tall, and Dean worked weekends - so they were old enough in John's book, to be left back; with money that wasn't theirs, and that one cellphone with a month's bill paid. Dean's first phone.

The next day, lying on the bed because they hadn't bought a new couch and Dean definitely wasn't going to touch the one that'd come with the house unless at gunpoint, Dean set his first wallpaper.

It was Gunnar Lawless, flexing a bicep, and smirking over his shoulder, head cocked as if to look right into Dean's eyes, as he stared at his screen in wonder. Someday, he'd have guns like those, and friends like him. Someday, he'd be a man like him.

John returned in a week's time. They drove away. (Didn't even tell the landlord they were vacating the house, because then they'd have to give reasons. Lying wasn't a problem. But it got boring, sometimes.)

Dean grew up.

When he hit nineteen - around the same time he moved to that one highscool in Texas where he'd eventually meet Rhonda Hurley, he made a friend.

Ben was cool. He taught Dean things, though he probably didn't know Dean was learning from him. Dean was good at that.

Once, Ben had snickered at some guy's clothes. Said it was a lot. Guys were supposed to keep it cool. Keep it simple, keep it casual.

Those had been the origins of 'Less is More'. The basics are the classics, a little is a lot, things like that. If you were untraditional about things like mobile wallpapers, you were trying too hard.

Dean knew that was stupid.

Dean also knew he was going to change it to the default.

He felt good about it for just about a minute, and then just foolish. He would even have changed it back, Ben could screw off, he didn't care, if only he'd kept staring at his screen for longer. But break was over, and Dean picked up his books and Ben picked up his, and they went off to class.

Sadly, the boring grey squares stuck with Dean for much longer than the school and his friend did.

Much later, when highschool was all done, and Sammy was all gone - Dean changed it to Baby.

It had been a night spent wholly driving, with Dad passed out next to him. Don't worry, he was alright. Just the final showdown of a hunt, and then the alcohol. Never a good pair, Dean remembered thinking, back then.

It was a good angle for Baby, showed off her strength, magnificence and color. Dean felt almost proud of the photo he'd taken. The aluminium glistened and the glass had a cleaner sheen somehow. She looked terrific, headlights blazing and everything - and it was his. They'd had that conversation earlier that night, and though John had been sufficiently drunk, Dean knew he'd remember his words. The Impala was his. Hell, Dean didn't spare a thought to the former definition of cool, as he changed his wallpaper.

His car was what was fucking cool. Anybody who wanted to tell him otherwise could go screw himself.

Baby stayed on Dean's homescreen for a long time.

Sometimes he'd replace it with newer, better pictures he took of her. Sam would grin, tell Dean he was very good at photography for someone with such a crappy camera, and Dean would flip him off with a mirroring grin.

Baby finally got off his screen, years later.

Dean didn't know what had got into him, but he swears to himself that he was at least a little bit drunk to have been googling 'I Killed Hitler' quote images.

It was also weird how he got one which matched his tastes perfectly - black background, text in unavoidable bold purple. There were a lot of options on the internet.

That part was stupid, too. He knew that none of them killed Hitler. Of course, because it was he who did.

But he did end up finding the perfect one, and Dean had it on his screen for a good bit of time too. He'd occasionally shove it in Sam's face, for example, to prove a completely unrelated point - just to savor the way his brother looked at him like nothing annoyed him more than Dean did.

And then, there was that day, when Cas came back from his run with Sam - he accompanied him on the days when it looked like Dean wouldn't get up till they're back, Dean knew - and promptly declared that he was going to start taking selfies.

Apparently he'd seen many people doing it, had been seeing them do it for years, and was affirmative that he wanted to try it. It almost certainly didn't help when Dean informed him that he hadn't taken a single selfie in his entire life and that he was living just fine.

Cas had always been stubborn.

And he had a phone, now. And, he certainly had always had a way with Dean.

"Why are you so difficult, Dean? Why is it so hard for you to smile at the camera?" Cas grumbled, probably fashioning his tone to sound doubly as annoyed as he was.

"'Cause it's not the camera. I'm smiling at myself here, Cas." Dean rolled his eyes. "It's dumb." He had his phone held at eyelevel, he refused to take it any higher. Then what would be the frigging difference between him and those -

"Then smile at me." Cas interrupted, as an effective idea came to him, and he slid into the picture next to Dean. "There. It's not dumb to smile at me, is it?"

Dean sighed, maybe a little flustered. Cas was pressing up against him pretty close to get in the frame. "You know you're really frigging weird, right?"

"I have a fair idea." Cas beamed at him, and pushed Dean's face with his own to fit fully. Dean had to resist snorting at that. What a complete dork. "There." Cas announced. "We look good. Click on the button. It's the white one -"

"I know how to take a goddamn photo, Cas -"

"- then why aren't you doing it?" Cas cut in, slipping into the tone he saves for when he wants to pretend he's really had enough of Dean's fusses. "I don't see you taking the photo, Dean -"

"I can't do it with the hand which is holding the phone, you stupid -" Dean groaned, trying to twist his arm out of where Cas had squeezed it between their bodies, in his nagging at Dean. "It'll fall if I do that. And I can't use my other hand, because then it'll block your face -"

"Oh, leave it to me." Cas huffed, frustrated, and taking the phone from Dean's outstretched hand. "I'll - let me do it, Dean. I'll do it." Dean clawed at the air to get the phone back but Cas was stretching it away now. At least Dean got to untangle his other arm, and didn't even notice as he slung it around Cas - out of habit, or something. "Now you smile, and I'll just press the button in the middle, and -"

"I know how to take a photo, goddammit!" Dean snapped, right as Cas took the photo. Cas turned at him with a frown, because of that.

It came out pretty candid, was all the praise anyone could offer.

They took more photos. Dean even smiled in a few - believe him, he tried not to. Cas smiled in most, and in some rare ones, the smile crinkled his eyes and showed off his gums - and they luckily coincided with exactly one of Dean's smiling photos, and it was a perfect one, that one.

If it means Cas will smile like that, Dean's going to take more pictures.

It's not till weeks later, when Dean's scrolling through his gallery looking for something important, that he sees the picture for the first time. It's almost impossible to look away.

He can't seem to recall the other details surrounding it, anymore. Just what the photo shows him, and just the way Cas looks in it, with his hair dark and wild, and his eyes shining from having gotten Dean to comply. Collar slightly upturned from Dean's arm making it that way, and his head turned slightly as if he were about to just look at the real Dean before the camera captured the moment. His smile, proud of the fancy new activity, with glances of barely there dimples hiding in his stubble. He's beautiful, and he's happy, and it's a good picture, if there ever was one.

And of course, in the picture too, Dean's only got his eyes on Cas.

In that moment, Dean Winchester had found exactly what he wanted to see, whenever he unlocked his phone, for the rest of his life. And that's the story of how Dean found his wallpaper, for the ages.

(And yes, ever since they enabled different wallpapers for the lockscreen and the homescreen, he's had eleven year old Sammy dressed as a pumpkin for a school halloween fest, on the former. He collected the photo from Missouri some time ago, and Sam detests it audibly, so obviously Dean isn't going to change it ever.)

***

The story about ringtones isn't even that long.

It started off with 'Wanted Dead Or Alive', because the spunky, daydreaming teenage boy he never got to be, but maybe also did - seemed to connect to Bon Jovi's lyrics on a stupidly basic level.

His ringtones made their way through the classics. Bob Dylan, Elton John, John Lennon, Bruce Springsteen. Had Eye Of The Tiger for a long time. He had Kansas, Guns 'N Roses, Pink Floyd. He remembers he had Smoke on the Water for a while. All good ones.

After dying a hundred and four times in 2008, he switched to Heat Of The Moment. Sam bitchfaced at him all through those weeks of Asia.

Kevin was the one who brought to his attention, years later, that if they really committed such criminal levels of identity theft, they should try to blend in more. It was right after his phone had suddenly come alive with Freddie Mercury singing, in the middle of a discussion with the sheriff.

"Good taste, no offense." Kevin had begun. "But you've gotta step it down, if you don't want to be noticed any more than you already do."

"He's right." Sam had joined in. "At least give up something. Nobody can get you to stop your vintage muscle car around, and she drives like a farm tractor on some roads, Dean."

"Shut your face, bitch." Dean had thrown back, instantly. "Kevin's obviously talking about your golden frigging mane, okay? Get the damn thing cut, and I'll look into silencers or whatever."

Of course, neither of those things ever happened, or would ever happen. But Dean did listen to their resident prophet, and change his ringtone to the Apple ringtone most important people have.

Instead of a legend singing at him, he got musical beeping in a ridiculously annoying rhythm. But it stuck.

It stayed, for good.

(Well, there was that one night, when they were all high in spirits and drunk in celebration, just Cas and him that too, and it had seemed genius to get Cas to record a message for his ringtone in his worst, deepest deadpan.

Cas was easily convinced - the terrific inebriation levels in both of them had to have helped, too - and Dean had woken up in the morning to his phone ringing in Cas's mechanical voice, except this time it was actually machine-driven. "Dean. Dean, pick up the phone. You're being called. You should pick up the phone, Dean. I think -" and Dean hadn't got to hear more of it, completely grizzled by sleep, because although he fucking loved Cas's unfairly hot voice most days, he'd snapped and picked up the phone - only to have Sam cackle at him from the other end and smugly ask him how he likes his new ringtone.

Maybe it had been Sam's idea, after all. Dean obviously would never recall, and the smartass must've known that. He knows all the kinds of drunk Dean can be.

Also, Cas did say 'Dean' a lot, didn't he? But that's a story for another time.)

That's all that can be said on the matter of ringtones. Dean goes back to the beeps soon enough - they're also kind of easy to get used to, he hadn't known that before. Sam has 'normal' ringtones too, and it's fun to try and guess whose - and which of their dozens of phones are ringing, especially on inventory days. They made it into a game years back.

Cas, on the other hand? He keeps his phone on vibrate, ever since Jack confided in him how cool it looked, when in the middle of a crowd, or a heated scene, no one notices but Cas feels the vibrations first, and noiselessly picks up his phone and begins to speak.

Like a spy who wears a secret headset, Jack had gone on to say. The perks of basically being a wave, Dean had scoffed, grinning still. He was supposed to be the cool dad. You get to hear all your fellow wavelengths.

Cas had just shrugged.

So on vibrate, it stayed - and no one really knows if Castiel even has a ringtone, let alone what it is. The vibration mode is a good enough explanation.

Dean, though, has a fairly good idea of what it might be.

After all, he was who Cas approached for help in retrieving it off Dean's own gift, into his phone's storage.

It's the twelfth song on the mixtape.

Ramble on.

***

Lucyyyy! This one's for you! HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY, and I know I'm late, oh so late, but you're very sweet to still allow me to give you a present ❣️✨ Hope you enjoy this, @all-or-nothing-baby, and everyone who reads this should go wish her a belated happy birthday~~<3

[minervahopebeyond]

Blood Petals.

Hi! Here is another chapter! I hope you all enjoy it 😊 please let me know what you think! There’s also a link in my tumblr to read it in Ao3. As always I apologize for any grammar or vocabulary errors I may have.

Chapter 4: Tickles.

Draco spent an entirely week feeling sorry for himself before he decided that he had enough. The fact that Mr. Potter reminded him that the school year was about to come to an end (which meant that Potter would be moving in) was just a happy coincidence.

Apparently they were facing some problems with the guardianship. Some days ago, Moody had told Sirius that things didn’t just go away, that at the least they had to do an incredibly large amount of paperwork to declare Mr. Potter as a living person and only then they could arrange a trial to clear Sirius’s name once and for all.

Everything was more complicated than it was supposed to be because Fudge didn’t believe their story about what happened at the ministry, not that he would bother them much though. The minister had already fucked up by denying the Dark Lord return for an entire year, and since the events of the department of mysteries, the attacks had become more and more severe until they were impossible to ignore. Since ‘War Hero James Fleamont Potter comes back’ was good publicity for Fudge, Draco wasn’t really worried about it as his cousin was. It was rather annoying, really. When Mr. Potter would get out of Grimmauld Place to attend to a hearing at the ministry or go to St. Mungos for his check ups, Sirius would spend the entire bloody day nervous and looking all pained around the house. It drove Draco insane.

“Would you just calm down? I can’t even read like this. Your magic is all over the place.” Sirius frowned and opened his mouth to respond but he beat him to it. “ I’m just worried! What if they don’t let him come back or a test just goes wrong?? Who would laugh at my awful jokes then??” He said with a high pitch voice that didn’t sound like his cousin at all but it was funnier that way. He would know, he had an immaculate sense of humor.

“You are an awful cousin. I’m starting to understand Harry.”

Draco gasped as dramatically as he could then. He put a hand on his heart and made an exaggerated disbelief gesture. “You take that back.” He hissed. Draco loved this, loved living with the two of them, he was never bored with them and they never took anything he said personally because they understood him, there was this unspoken agreement that jokes and banter were the answer to every situation. Draco just loved that.

“Never.” Sirius said while laughing. He reminded him of mother sometimes, his gestures, the way his smiled would reach his eyes only when he thought something was really funny.

They heard the fireplace come to life. Green flames appeared and then Potter and his father were coming through. Sirius didn’t look surprised at all about the fact that Potter had arrived a day before the end of term. Great, it was just him then.

Mr. Potter greeted them and and asked his son to help with Draco’s luggage. Saint Potter on the other hand was too busy frowning, looking between Sirius and him, to actually respond to his father or to have basic human decency and say hello. Draco passed next to him as he went to where the man was.

“Don’t bother, Mr. Potter, I’ll just take them.”

Draco casted a levitation charm on the luggage and went upstairs. He was almost at his door when he heard Sirius’s voice.

“That was rather rude.”

Draco could almost see scarhead roll his eyes at that. They still didn’t understand that they should just let Potter and him treat each other as it pleased them.

“I just can’t understand why the Order can’t find another place for him.”

“They can, of course.” He wondered if Mr. Potter was always this calm while arguing, it was the same composed tone that he used when Severus had told Draco off because of the blood ritual.

“Then what is he doing here?” Potter sounded exasperated, but apparently they chose to ignore the boy’s question because Draco heard no response at all.

He spent the rest of the day going over his stuff to check if everything was in order. At least he didn’t have to study anymore. Given that his life would ceased to exist, he could spend the summer (for the first time in forever) not going over his school textbooks to ensure beating Granger at school next year. Don’t get him wrong, he loved knowledge, he just didn’t have the urge to be top of year anymore. The fact that his father used to punish him for coming second to a mudblood witch was totally an unrelated thing; his goals in life changed because he now had a terminal desease, not because his living situation changed, of course.

Kreacher came to announce that dinner was served as usual, he did noticed him more pissed off. He couldn’t blame him, really. Aunt Walburga’s portait hadn’t stopped screaming since she realized that Potter arrived. They could normally shut the curtains when she yelled ‘Blood traitors scum’ at them if she heard them around the house, but she had thrown an absolutely fit when she noticed the dark haired boy was around too. ‘Disgusting Half-blood! In my home already infested with shameful blood traitors, such a disgrace’ , he heard as Kreacher and him were passing near the portait, the poor elf ran to it in such hurry he nearly tripped. Draco continued his way to the kitchen as he kept hearing the old elf trying to calm her down. It would seem that Kreacher was the only living creature that had loved Walburga Black when she was alive.

Everyone was already waiting for him at the table when he arrived. Potter still had an annoyed expression on his face. Draco raised an eyebrow at him and pulled a chair to sit down and eat. There was an uncharacteristically silence, the blond boy hoped for someone to crack a joke but it never came. He was dying to ask why Potter couldn’t wait one more day to come back but they had clearly hide that information from Draco on purpose so he wasn’t going to ask. He supposed it could be to avoid Mr. Potter going to King Cross to get his son... Whatever, it wasn’t any of his business.

“So... what do you two plan to do with your summer?” Mr. Potter asked. Sirius and Draco stared at him before looking at each other and bursted laughing. They tried to controlled themselves but it was useless so he opened his mouth.

“My plan was to spend the rest of the bloody summer trapped here, Mr Potter, thanks for asking.” He smiled, relieved that they could still actually talk even if Potter was here.

“Hey, I was planning to do the same thing! What a coincidence!” Said Sirius with a mocking tone in his voice.

“Ha ha, you are hilarious. At least I’m trying to make conversation. What about you, Harry?”

The dark haired boy, who was observing the exchange between them with a curious look in his face, turned his attention to his father then.

Potter shrugged and took another bite of his food, he responded while his mouth was still full.

“I don’t know, fly maybe? I never got to do that on summers unless I was at The Burrow. Or maybe I’ll just try not to get weird visions from Voldemort, who knows.”

Mr. Potter and Sirius froze at that and Draco fought to hide a smile. That was one of the things that he liked the most about the prat who lived, he always responded with sass. The first time he heard it was directed to him in fact, ‘I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks’, it always amused him how cheeky Potter was with everyone, with his Gryffindors or even with the professors. Because Draco saw that the other two men didn’t know how to respond to that he intervened.

“Maybe you could spend your summer learning how to actually do an occlumency shield, instead of cracking jokes about how the Dark Lord can get into your mind with such ease, Potty.”

“Shut up, Malfoy.”

“Witty comeback right there, Potter. I’ll take that as win for me.” He said as he was pointing his finger at the boy with the best arrogant smirk he had. This was probably the only way that Draco could flirt with Potter, even if he was so utterly oblivious to his intentions. The blond boy supposed it was because Gryffindors didn’t tend to be mean flirts in general, so if a Slytherin approached them they would always feel as they were making fun of them in a bad way. There even was this ridiculous legend going around down in the dungeons which said there was a curse, that started around the founders era, that caused the Slytherins to have (at least) one crush on a Gryffindor while they were at school and said crush would never get that they were flirting, ever. Draco always thought it was rubbish until he witness it himself.

He heard Mr. Potter chuckle and when he turns to see him and his cousin, he found them looking at Draco with an amused face. He looked down, luckily for him he had a lot of practice in hiding the blush that started to invade his face. He drank a little water and kept on eating. This was exactly why he didn’t want to live in the same place as Potter, Draco was too used to try to get the boy’s attention by any means necessary. To think that now he was supposed to try to ignore him a little for it not to be so bloody obvious...Maybe the best course of action was to go back to his room and only get out to get food, that way his encounters with Potter would be minimum. At least his comment seemed lighten the mood because then Sirius was talking about how he could work with his godson, to perfect his shield and Mr. Potter also said that it was a great idea. Once Draco finished eating he excused himself and went to his room.

He was drawing in his sketch book when Potter opened the door and entered the room closing the door behind him. Draco quickly closed the book in his hands.

“One would think that in fifteen years you should have already learn how to knock.”

Potter rolled his eyes and gave him an exasperated look. The ‘shut up, Malfoy’ was implied. Draco looked at him, waiting for whatever nonsense he would say to him.

“First of all: apparently, I’ve been rude to you. Which I think it’s rubbish, but I came here to-“

“Don’t.” Draco interrupted him. Not in a million years he would let this happen. “Don’t bloody apologize, Potter. You are giving me the creeps.”

He could see how grateful Potter was to hear that.

“Brilliant. That’s settled then. Second of all: I don’t fully trust you.” What else was new? As if he cared, stupid git. “But I’ve still haven’t thanked you for what you did at the ministry...”

Draco widened his eyes. What the fuck was happening?

“Don’t put that face, Malfoy. I don’t know why you did what you did, if it was a ploy to get into the headquarters or whatever. And maybe it’s really selfish to say this but I don’t care. You gave me something that I thought it was forever lost and you saved Sirius right in front of me.”

The blond boy muttered something, trying to dismissed Potter. This was getting to personal and he didn’t like it. Potter walked to where he was and sat on the end of the bed, looking at him. His piercing green eyes were absolutely focused on Draco, trying to show how serious he was about what he said, then he spoke again.

“What I mean is that I don’t know what that means for a Slytherin, but for us Gryffindors is a proof of kindness, so thank you.”

And Potter did the one thing that he dreamed of since forever: he offered his hand to Draco. It wasn’t an offer of friendship, he knew that Potter and him could never be friends... but it was thoughtful gesture. It meant that ,this beautiful boy who Draco absolutely did not deserve, remembered that day on the train, how their rivalry started. It was also something like a peace offer. The blond boy raised his eyes to look at Potter’s, he nodded and grabbed the boy’s hand.

Draco thought that the day could not get any weirder but then while he was shaking Potter’s hand, the boy smiled at him. A wide, very sincere smile that made his heart stop for several seconds. That smile was never for him, he had spend five years of his life looking at the Gryffindor table just to see this boy smile at his friends and now this one big gorgeous smile was exclusively for him.

He felt something weird then, like tickles inside of him, never felt that one before... Draco didn’t want to let go of Potter’s hand before necessary, but he was feeling really strange, so he let go of him to see if the feeling would go away. It didn’t.

“Well, that was all, Malfoy... Good night I guess?”

He nodded.

“Yeah, good night, Potter.”

When the door closed behind him, Draco touched his ribs. The tickles were still there, but smaller. He spent enough years reacting to Potter and feeling stuff to know that this wasn’t normal.

[cristinablackthornkingson]

Shadowhunters Short Story #58. Baby Lightwood-Bane #4.

It is a chilly February day in 2016 when Magnus and Alec Lightwood-Bane receive the news that will change their lives forever.

It has been two years since Magnus and Alec adopted their youngest child and first daughter, Anna Catarina. Anna is almost two now and has remained a very happy, content little girl. She idolizes her brothers and is best friends with little Mina, as well as Clary and Jace’s daughter Lucie and Simon and Isabelle’s son and daughter George and Jessie. 

Right now Alec is sitting in a room that he and Magnus made into a type of schoolroom for the boys (and Anna when she’s older) working on some history with Rafe, though Alec takes Rafe to The Institute to train, he works on the academic side of his (and Max’s) education here at home, often with help from Magnus. Max is in the living room finishing up a lesson with Magnus and Anna is in Magnus and Alec’s room, taking her nap. 

“Okay Rafe, can you tell me the story about the first Shadowhunter? What was his name, how did he create Shadowhunters, stuff like that?” Alec asks, pulling the textbook away from Rafe so he can test him on what they just learned. 

“Uh well he was a mundane in the 11th century and he was a crusader, and he was really worried about all the demons coming in through the void, so one day on his way to Constantinople he met a warlock- like papa- and asked him to summon Raziel at Lake Lyn. He did and when Raziel was summoned, Jonathan begged him to mix his blood with his to create a new superhero race of people who could defeat the demons. Raziel saw that Jonathan had good intentions so he agreed and then gave him to The Mortal Instruments- like Uncle Simon’s band’s name!- then Jonathan used the cup to turn his sister Abigail and his best friend David into Shadowhunters. David and Jonathan were inspired by the story of Jonathan and David in the Bible, so they took that story and created a ceremony where they took eachother’s blood and spoke the oath and put the runes on each other and became the first ever parabatia, but their bond was broken later when David became the first Silent Brother- like Uncle Jem use to be a Silent Brother- and that’s really all we know.” Alec smiles proudly at his son, he was sure to pass all his exams in a few years with flying colors, he could do wonderfully at The Academy if he chooses to go there when he’s older.

“Good job buddy, but remember when you’re writing about this in your tests don’t mention anything unrelated like how Uncle Simon’s band is also called The Mortal Instruments and that Uncle Jem use to be a Silent Brother, okay?” Alec gently says. He doesn’t mind Rafe’s brief diversions from the story, but an examiner certainly will. 

“Okay, I just got excited, sorry.” Rafe quietly says, feeling embarrassed that he got distracted like a little kid .He’s almost 10 now, he’s a big boy, not a little kid anymore, like Max who’s still only 8 or Anna who really is only a baby. 

“It’s okay buddy don’t be sorry, you know I don’t mind you adding in little things like that, but an examiner who doesn’t know us and our family won’t understand it’s relevance and importance and could mark you down, okay?” Alec gently says. Rafe nods his understanding. “Alright, I think that’s enough for today, how about you?” 

“Uh-uh.” Rafe agrees. 

“Come on, lets go see if your papa and Max are finished, then I’ll wake Anna up and we can go to the park if you like.” Alec says, closing the textbook in front of him. 

“Uh-uh! Can we have pizza for dinner, please?” Rafe begs, turning his big brown eyes to his dad, knowing Alec can never resist his eldest child’s puppy dog eyes. 

“Well I’ll talk to papa but I certainly think you’ve earned it today, and I’m sure Max has too.” Alec says, ruffling Rafe’s hair as they walk out of the schoolroom. 

“I’ll go ask papa!” Rafe exclaims, darting out to the living room before Alec can say another word.

When Alec steps into the living room he sees that Magnus and Max have finished their lesson, and both boys are asking for pizza for dinner, so Alec quietly slips into his and Magnus’ room and make his way over to the crib by the bed, where Anna is sitting up, rubbing her eyes. He gently scoops her up and snuggles her close, breathing in her scent and pressing a kiss to her cheek. 

“Hi baby.” Alec whispers, as Anna clutches his shirt and buries her face in his chest. “Oh sweetheart are you still tired? Did you have a nice nap?” He softly says, rubbing soothing circles on her back. “Come on, lets go see your brothers and papa, that will wake you up.” He grabs her pacifier from the crib and makes his way back into the living room, which has now been cleared up. The minute Anna sees Magnus she perks up and reaches for him. Magnus smiles broadly at his daughter and takes her into his arms, smoothing her hair down and kissing her forehead. 

“There’s my girl, I missed you.” He softly says. 

“Papa’s girl aren’t you Anna?” Alec says in an amused tone, lightly tickling his daughter’s cheek, causing her to squeal with laughter and squirm away from him. 

“You just love being with papa because you know I’ll dress you in something amazing while your daddy would stick you in the first thing he found, isn’t that right my sweet Anna banana?” Magnus lightly says, holding her above his head which makes her scream and giggle with delight. Magnus loves having a little girl to buy adorable dresses and outfits for, there is such a small selection for fashionable boy clothes, especially when those boys are 10 and 8, but for a 2 year old little girl, the sky’s the limit. 

“I just don’t understand the point of putting her in a designer outfit when she’s only going to end up getting half of her meals all over it and ruin it.” Alec says, as Magnus settles Anna back onto his hip. “Our daughter is the messiest little thing alive, you know that.” 

“Yes but at least she’ll be fashionably messy when I dress her.”  Magnus points out. 

“She’s going to end up like Jace if we’re not careful.” Alec teases. Magnus gives a fake gasp of horror and covers one of Anna’s ears. 

“Don’t you dare say such a thing!  You’re going to confident like papa, right Anna? Not an arrogant fool like Uncle Jace.” Magnus coos. Anna smiles up at him in delight and clumsily claps her hands. 

Half an hour later, the little family are walking toward the local park, Alec pushing Anna in her stroller, Magnus at his side and Max and Rafe running up ahead. As they walk, Magnus’ phone begins to buzz in his pocket. 

“Hello?” He answers a few seconds later.

“Hey, it’s me.” Catarina’s voice comes down the line and a smile breaks out on Magnus’ voice. 

“Oh Cat! Good to hear from you! Listen, Ragnor, Tessa and I are going out next week, do you want to come?” He asks, as Alec walks ahead a little bit so as not to listen in on Magnus’ private conversation. 

“Id love to however I actually called about something in specific.” Catarina tells him. 

“Oh what’s that?” He asks. 

“Well a few weeks ago the hospital asked me if I could work on the maternity ward for a while, cover maternity leave ironically. A couple of weeks ago a young girl was admitted with bleeding, thankfully she and the baby are fine, but I grew close with her and got to talk with her a lot. She’s only 16 and not ready to be a mother yet at all, she’s planning to place her baby for adoption, I showed her yours and Alec’s profile and she took to you straight away, she’s not in hospital anymore but we keep in touch and she’s always asking me things about you and Alec, she really wants to meet you, if you’re interested.” Magnus stops dead in his tracks when Catarina finishes her story. Not long ago he and Alec agreed that they would like to extend their family for the last time. At one point in time Tessa had been an adoption consultant and helped bring together many children and parents, so she helped them create a profile book, which she then took a few copies of to give to any clients she and Jem got who were looking to place their child for adoption, and Catarina took another bunch to do the same. 

“R-really? We only made up the booklet a few months ago.”  Magnus says in a breathy tone, beginning to walk again and running a hand through his hair. 

“I know but it can happen very quickly, I know with Max, Rafe and Anna you all found each other by fate, but with a profile book to show expectant mothers and adoption consultants it can happen much more quickly.” Catarina explains. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“No! We do! I mean, I’ll have to speak with Alec about it but I’m certain he will want this as much as I do, what’s the mother’s name? Is she mundane, Nephilim,what?” Magnus asks.

“Her name is Molly Bridgestock, she’s a Shadowhunter, from a very high up, proud, old Shadowhunter family. Her parents threatened to kick her out if she didn’t give up the baby, when I heard this I offered for her to stay with me or offered to contact Tessa, see if she and Jem could help, but Molly says she’s doing this adoption on her own terms, she loves her baby but she knows she can’t give them the life they deserve, though I do worry how her parents will react when they find out you’re a Warlock and you and Alec are a gay couple, Molly is completely fine with it, she was awe-struck when she saw Alec’s picture, truth be told I think she has a little crush on your Consul Ligthwood.” Magnus laughs lightly, not surprised that this young girl has a crush on his gorgeous husband, he can’t understand how everyone in the world isn’t in love with Alec. 

“That doesn’t sound like a good home for any child, is Molly safe?” Magnus asks in a concerned tone, more than willing to take in both this young girl and her child, if need be. 

“She says she is but I just don’t know, her parents are very ‘traditional’ if you know what I mean.” Catarina tells him. 

“Yes unfortunately I do. I’ll talk to Alec and get back to you, in the meantime can you give Molly my number and address and let her know our door is always open for her? We would take Molly in and help her raise her baby herself if she wants.” Magnus softly says, wanting to do all he can for a child in need. 

“Of course, talk to you soon.” Catarina says, before hanging up. 

Over the next half hour or so, while Max, Rafe and Anna tire themselves out in the park, Magnus explains the whole situation to Alec. Alec agrees to meet Molly and adopt her baby if that’s what she wants, or to take her in and help her raise the baby, either, whatever she wants. 

Magnus calls Catarina back and arranges a meeting with Molly for a few days from now, at their home. 

Three days later, it is a bright, breezy day, oddly warm for the middle of February. Alec has just gotten back from dropping the kids off with Maryse, while Magnus stayed behind to make sure everything was perfect for Molly’s visit. She is due to arrive any minute now, and he and Alec are doing everything they can to stay calm.

At 2:00 p.m. on the dot, there is a light knock on the door and Magnus and Alec exchange nervous glances, before Magnus goes to answer the door. When he opens the door, he is struck by how young the girl standing in front of him looks. According to Catarina she is sixteen, but she barely looks it, with brown skin, long black hair falling around her shoulders and bright green eyes, she looks like she should be preparing for her first Clave Exam, not preparing to have a baby.He can’t help but think that this could be his daughter or one of his nieces in the near future, and his heart goes out to this young girl, who is doing this alone with no support from her family. He doesn’t understand parents who turn their back on their children, no matter what his kids do he will always, always love them and support them.

“You must be Molly.” Magnus says, smiling warmly at the young girl standing in front of him. 

“As far as I’m aware.” She replies with a grin. ‘Sarcastic, Rafe is going to love her.’ Magnus thinks to himself. 

“Come in and make yourself at home, we’re so glad you wanted to meet us.” Magnus says, guiding her into the living room where Alec is waiting. 

“I’m glad you agreed to meet me, I’ve considered a few other people as parents to this baby, but when Catarina showed me your profile book it just felt right, I mean the idea of my baby being raised by The Consul and The High Warlock of Brooklyn is pretty amazing.” Molly says, her hand resting on her protruding stomach. 

“I’m glad you think so, though our kids often seem to think we are the worst dad and papa in the world because we won’t let them have chocolate for breakfast, I don’t know why we let their aunts and uncles look after them anymore honestly, their grandmother feeds them properly but Alec’s brother and sister seem to only feed them junk.” Magnus says in an amused tone.Though really he can’t complain, the last time he and Alec looked after Mina, Tessa had nearly throttled him when he sent Mina back hyper as hell.

“You’ll have to excuse my husband being a hypocrite Molly, a few weeks ago we were looking after one of our nieces and Magnus gave her basically all the chocolate in the house, her mother almost killed him when she found out.” Alec says in an amused tone, as Molly and Magnus walk into the living room. Molly laughs lightly and says 

“Can’t say I wouldn’t do the same, are your other children here?” Magnus indicates for her to take a seat. 

“No, they’re with my mom, we thought it would be best if this first meeting is just the three of us, but if things work out you can meet them another time.” Alec says. 

“Alright.” Molly says with a smile and a nod. “I don’t have that many questions for you, just one.” She adds. 

“What is it?” Alec asks, grasping Magnus’ hand in his. 

“Would you be okay with the adoption being open? Or at least semi-open? I want to be a part of the baby’s life, I want to be able to visit him and watch him grow up, and be there for him to ask questions when he’s older, and I don’t want the fact that he’s adopted to be a secret from him, I’m not saying I want to be his mother or anything, but I’d like to be like an Aunt to him.” Molly quietly says. She knew from the minute she found out about the baby that she couldn’t fully part with him forever, she knew placing him for adoption was the best for him, but she couldn’t hand him over and never see him again, though that’s exactly what her parents want. They wanted to send her away for the duration of the pregnancy and arrange to have the baby adopted out themselves, a closed adoption. They claimed it was for Molly’s sake and to save her reputation but she knows better, she knows it’s for their sake and that they’re ashamed of her and her baby,

“Yes we are absolutely fine with that, we never personally set out to have closed adoptions with Max, Rafe and Anna, it just worked out that way really, we know nothing about Max’s parents, he was abandoned, Rafe’s parents were killed in the Dark War with Sebastian, and Anna was abandoned too, but we’ve always been open to any form of adoption.” Magnus explains. “My friend Tessa Carstairs use to be an adoption consultant, she can help with the legal side of things.” He adds. Molly smiles and visibly relaxes. 

“Okay great, you can ask me any questions you have now.” She says, glad to have at least one worry off her mind. 

“You said ‘him’ when talking about the baby, do you know you’re having a boy?” Alec asks in a hopeful tone. He’d like to know if he and Magnus are going to have another son or daughter, he’ll be thrilled either way but he would like to know before the baby is born. 

“No I don’t know for sure, I just have a feeling he’s a boy, but if you two want to find out I’m happy to ask Brother Enoch at my next check up.” Molly replies.

“How far long are you?” Magnus asks, trying to calculate by the size of her stomach, even though he knows that’s not very accurate. When Tessa had been 6 months pregnant with Mina, Magnus had thought she was full term and asked if she was far from her due date, Tessa had almost killed him. It’s surprising Magnus is still alive, the amount of times he’s done something to warrant leaving Tessa ready to kill him.

“5 months, I’m due at the beginning of July.” Molly tells them, rubbing her bump. 

“I’m sorry if this is a sensitive issue and you don’t have to answer if you don’t  want to, but is the father in the picture?” Alec gently asks. Molly blushes and shakes her head. 

“No, I-I don’t actually know who the father is, it was a one-night stand, I don’t remember his name, what he looked like or anything, so you don’t have to worry about him.” Molly quietly says in a tone of embarrassment. 

“You don’t have to be embarrassed Molly, these things happen, it doesn’t make you a bad person or anything.” Magnus gently says. 

“I’m sorry I brought it up, I didn’t mean to upset you.” Alec softly says. 

“No it’s okay, you have a right to know.” Molly says, taking a breath to ward off the tears. 

The three of them continue to talk for another hour or so, getting to know each other and their situations. 

“Well.” Molly says an hour later, once they’ve spoken about anything and everything. “I made up my mind before I even met you, I’m choosing you as my baby’s parents.” 

“Thank you, we promise we will give your baby the most amazing life, and you can be as involved as much as you like.” Alec says in a strained tone of joy. 

“I know things aren’t great at home, you could stay with us if you like, you can stay for as long as you want, we have the room and we could take care of you and the baby.” Magnus offers, unable to not offer help to a child in need. 

“That’s very kind of you but I actually recently moved out of my parents house, I’m staying with a friend and their parents are extremely kind and good to me.” Molly says. Magnus relaxes at this, knowing he won’t have to worry about his child and the mother of his child as much. 

“Well I’m glad, but please know that our door is always open, before and after the baby is born.” Magnus gently says. Molly smiles broadly and says

“Thank you, I appreciate that.” That night, for the first time in months, Molly is able to sleep peacefully, knowing her child is going to have the most wonderful life, being raised by two of the kindest, most caring people she has ever met.

Over the next few months, Magnus and Alec tell their friends and family about the baby and start to prepare for their child’s arrival. Shortly after meeting Molly, she invited them to attend her 6 month check up with Brother Enoch, where it was confirmed she was carrying a boy. Max and Rafe are thrilled at the idea of having a little brother, though Anna isn’t too sure about it yet.  

Alec insists on decorating the nursery by hand, not allowing Magnus to use his magic to fix it up. This is the first time they’ll have a new-born, Max was almost 1 when he was adopted, Rafe was 5 and Anna was a few months old. This baby will be days old when they bring him home, and they’ll get to be there for his birth, get to hold him and love him straight away. 

While Tessa was helping Magnus, Alec and Molly with the legal side of the adoption, she offered to deliver the baby, having spent years as a midwife (Alec wondered if there was anything Tessa hadn’t done.) and delivered hundreds of babies, including her own grandchildren. Molly happily accepted and ended up having the majority of the rest of her prenatal check ups from Tessa.

They decide to name Ragnor and Tessa as the baby’s godparents. Ragnor was surprisingly good with children, Mina absolutely adores him and is always asking about her Uncle Ragnor and it never fails to make Tessa, Catarina and Magnus laugh, to see their foreboding, grumpy green friend, wrapped around the finger of a little four year old.

Right now, its the last week in  June, and Molly is due in just two weeks and Magnus and Alec are gathering together just a few last things for their son. They picked out a name a few weeks ago but decided to keep it a secret until the baby is born. 

Currently, Alec is sitting at the kitchen table with Anna in his lap, scribbling on a piece of paper, while he talks with Clary, who is sitting across from him at the table, with her and Jace’s newborn son Stephen, asleep in a sling across her chest. 

“So how’s Lucie adjusting to having Stephen around?” Alec asks, knowing that his little niece was not too happy about having a brother, when Clary was pregnant. 

“Really well actually, she adores him. I was painting the other day and had Stephen on a blanket on the floor beside me, I looked over at him at one stage and found Lucie curled up beside him, telling him stories, it was the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.” Clary says in a fond tone, looking into the living room, where Jace is standing with Lucie on his back, her arms linked around his neck. Lucie is such a daddy’s girl, she has Jace wrapped tightly around her little finger and has done since the day she was born. Jace is a big softie when it comes to his kids, he’s happy to sit and have tea parties all day with Lucie, and he loves to sit at the piano with Stephen and play for him. Often on sleepless nights, Jace will take Stephen downstairs to the music room and play for him until he falls asleep. 

“Hopefully Anna warms up to her brother just as well, Max and Rafe can’t wait to meet him, but Anna isn’t too sure about him.” Alec says, running his hand over his daughter’s blonde curls. 

“I’m sure she will, Maryse was telling me the other day how jealous you were of Izzy when she was born.” Clary says in an amused tone. 

“Oh no, did she get out the baby pictures again?” Alec asks. Maryse loves to tell embarrassing stories about Izzy, Alec and Jace to Clary, Magnus and Simon, and the kids love hearing stories about their parents as little kids. 

“Of course, I never realized how much Jessie looks like Izzy, if you put a baby picture of the two of them side by side you could hardly tell the difference, and Stephen is his dad’s twin.” Clary says. 

“And Lucie is your twin, Jocelyn showed me your baby pictures the other day, when she and Luke were looking after the kids for us for a while.” Alec says with a smile. Little Lucie has ginger red curls like her mother, as well as her pale skin, freckles, green eyes and her bone structure, all she got from Jace it seems, are his eye shape, mouth shape and nose shape.

“Ugh of course she did, Stephen I promise I’m never going to be as embarrassing as your nana okay?” Clary coos, dropping a kiss to her son’s curly blonde head. 

Just then Alec feels a hand on his shoulder, and twists in his seat to see Magnus standing behind him.

“Hey, you okay? You look worried.” Alec gently asks, taking Magnus’ hand from his shoulder and pressing a kiss to it. 

“I just got a call from Tessa, she and Jem are with Molly, she asked them to come around because she was bleeding a bit and having pains but she wasn’t sure if it was labor or not and didn’t want to worry us if it was nothing, but Tessa’s checked her over and it is labor. They’re at the Basilias.” Alec’s eyes widen and his heart begins to race, their son is going to be born in the next couple of hours, they’re going to be parents again. 

“You guys go, I’ll call mom to come pick up the kids and Clary and I will stay with them until she gets here.” Jace says, coming up to stand beside Magnus. 

“Really? Are you sure?” Alec ask, trying to keep the panic out of his tone. 

“Positive, now go, you don’t want to miss your son’s birth.” Jace says, taking Anna from Alec and lightly shoving his parabatia toward the door.

Magnus and Alec quickly gather a few clothes and such for the baby and quickly portal to The Basilias,which is now located in New York.

When they arrive, Jem is waiting for them to show them to Molly’s room.

“Is Molly alright, is the baby alright?” Alec asks in a frantic tone filled with worry. Jem smiles understandingly, having been just as anxious and worried when Tessa was in labor with Mina. 

“They’re both fine Alec, Tessa gave Molly a painkilling spell so she’s much more comfortable, there are no problems with the baby either, come on I’ll take you into Molly.” Jem calmly says, gesturing  for Magnus and Alec to follow him.

Jem leads them into a sterile white room with an en suite bathroom, a bed,a few chairs, a tray by the bed and a nightstand. Molly is half lying half sitting in the bed, propped up by a mountain of fluffy white pillows, dressed in a white and blue hospital gown. Tessa is standing beside her, talking quietly to her.

Magnus and Alec stay with Molly throughout the rest of her labor, while Tessa and Jem come in from time to time to check up on her and the baby. 

When it comes time to push, Tessa sits at the bottom of the bed, ready to deliver the baby, Jem stands off to the side so that he can be on hand if anything goes wrong but he’s not so close that he’s crowding Molly, and Magnus and Alec stand on either side of her. Molly grips both Magnus and Alec’s hands in hers, drawing strength and comfort from them being there. She is just so glad she isn’t doing this alone.

Her labor is long and painful and as the time goes on, the painkilling spell begins to wear off and Molly begins to feel almost everything, while growing more and more tired, feeling like it will never be over. 

“Oh God I can’t do this anymore.” Molly weakly says, as the contraction eases and she leans back into the pillows, grimacing in pain. 

“Of course you can, I know how difficult this is for you and how painful it is, but you are so close, I can see the baby’s head, you’re almost there now.” Tessa gently reassures her. 

“You’re doing so well Molly, like Tessa said it will be over soon, then your life can go back to normal, you won’t have to deal with all this pain and morning sickness and all that anymore.” Alec gently says, squeezing her hand encouragingly, trying his best to be helpful. He’d never been present for any birth before, he had no idea how to comfort a laboring mother. He knew he should’ve asked Jace for advice, even though he was more of a wreck during Lucie and Stephen’s births than Clary was. Maybe he should’ve gone to Jem, or Simon.

“I just want it to be over.” Molly weakly says in a teary tone, her breath hitching in her throat as another contraction hits.

“I know darling I know, and it will be soon, and it will be all worth it, I promise you it will, I know this isn’t a typical situation but you will get to be in your baby’s life, you’ll get to hold him and love him as much as you want, while carrying on with your own life, knowing that he’s in good hands.” Magnus calmly says, rubbing soothing circles on Molly’s back. He can’t imagine how bittersweet this moment must be for her, not long from now she’ll get to meet and hold her baby, but she’ll also be placing him with someone else, unless she changes her mind at the last second, which is something Magnus has been worried about for the last 4 months. 

At 4:21 p.m. on the 16th of June 2016, Molly gives birth to a beautiful healthy baby boy, who looks just like her, with tanned skin, a mop of black hair and vibrant green eyes. 

“By The Angel, he’s perfect.” Alec says in a breathy tone, gently stroking his son’s bloody cheek, once Tessa has laid the baby on a blanket on Molly’s chest. 

“Molly you did so well, you are absolutely amazing biscuit.” Magnus softly says, gently squeezing her hand and brushing her hair back from her face. Normally Magnus reserves that nickname for Clary, but he has a feeling he and Molly will grow to be as close as he and Clary, and the nickname suits her.

“Thanks.” Molly says in a breathy tone, still trying to catch her breath, feeling as though she’s just run a marathon. 

"Hello little one, your siblings are going to adore you, and your grandma is going to spoil you rotten.” Magnus quietly says, turning to look at his son. 

“Anna is going to be so mad she’s still the only girl.” Alec says in an amused tone, knowing how much Anna wanted a sister, she thought it was only fair that the baby be a girl, since she already had two brothers.

“Do you want to hold him?” Molly asks, once Tessa has helped her wrap the baby up to keep him warm. 

“You hold him first Alexander.” Magnus says. Alec carefully and expertly gathers the baby into his arms, and is instantly brought back to the first time he held Max, then Rafe and then Anna. Holding his son he feels a sense of peace settle over him, and somehow he knows that his family is complete. 

“Hi baby, I love you.” Alec quietly says, taking the baby’s tiny hand in his and pressing a kiss to it. 

“What are you going to call him?” Molly asks, as Magnus joins Alec and slips an arm around him and their son. 

“You tell her.” Alec encourages his husband, stroking the baby’s hand with his thumb. 

Magnus looks from his baby to Molly and proudly says

“Henry, his name is Henry Jonathan Lightwood-Bane.” 

“Oh, after our Henry?” Tessa quietly asks in a tight tone, as Jem slips an arm around her waist in an attempt to comfort her. Magnus smiles sadly and nods, grieving for his old friend. 

“Yes, Henry was one of the greatest friends I ever had, he was a wonderful man and I can only hope my son grows up to be like him too.”  He quietly says, looking down at little Henry in Alec’s arms. 

“He’d be honored Magnus, and with parents like you and Alec, you can be sure he’ll grow up to a wonderful young man.” Jem kindly says, which makes his wife tear up even more. 

“And you say you don’t have a way with words, James Carstairs.” Jem laughs lightly and presses a kiss to his wife’s temple and whispers to her 

“Well it seems we’re going to have to come up with a different middle name for our son.” Making sure that Magnus and Alec aren’t looking, Tessa rests her hand on her belly and softly says

“Nathaniel, William Nathaniel.” 

Just a few hours later Magnus and Alec head home with Henry, with promises to send Molly lots of pictures and an open invitation for her to come visit whenever she’s ready. 

That night, back in Magnus and Alec’s loft, little Henry lays sleeping soundly in his bassinet by his parents bed, while they try and settle Anna in her new room. Half an hour after being put to bed, little Henry wakes up and starts to fuss when he realizes he’s alone. Just then two figures materialize either side of his bassinet. On his right is a tall thin man, with kind hazel eyes and wild ginger hair, dressed in a white shirt, a red waistcoat and black trousers. On the left of the bassinet, is a small thin woman with flowing brown hair and kind brown eyes, dressed in a flowing teal evening gown, that looks like it’s from the Victorian Era. 

“Shh little one you’re alright, don’t cry sweet boy, you’re safe.” Charlotte Fairchild soothes the baby, reaching out to stroke his cheek. 

“He’s beautiful.” Henry Fairchild quietly says, marveling at the tiny creature in the bassinet, bringing him back to when his boys were little. 

“Oh he really is, I can’t believe it’s been so long since our boys were this little, or our girls for that matter. Oh Henry can you believe they named him after you?” Charlotte asks in an excited tone. She and Henry had been shocked when they learned this little boy’s name from Will, who would often come and go to see Mina and Kit. Henry was and is honored and delighted that his old friend still thinks about him and has named his son after him.

“No I’m still rather shocked, but delighted. I’m so happy for Magnus Lottie, he was so miserable for so long before he met Alec.” Henry softly says, smiling down at the little baby. 

“Me too, Alexander is so like Gideon, and he looks so much like Will, it must hurt Tessa terribly.” Charlotte says in a concerned tone. She’s always looked out for her Tessa, and has always worried about her, even though Jem has always been there to keep her safe and Tessa is more than capable of protecting herself.  

“Our Tessa is stronger than that, she has learned how to cope with her grief, the sight of anything that reminds her of Will no longer drives her into despair and she’s happy now too, now she has Jem, Christopher and Mina.” Henry says. 

“True enough, now we better get this fussy little boy settled, if he’s anything like his name sake he should be dead to the world in no time, isn’t that right sweet boy?” Charlotte coos, smiling as the baby grabs at her hand and stares up at her in awe. Henry smiles warmly at his wife and says 

“Where did you think Matthew got his ability to sleep through anything, from? But you’re right as usual Lottie, you should sing to him, our four always loved when you sang to them.” Henry suggests. 

“Well it’s been years since I’ve sang a lullaby, but I suppose I could try.” Charlotte shyly says. 

In no time at all, Little Henry starts to drift off to the sound of his Aunty Charlotte’s voice, while his Uncle Henry sits beside him and holds his little hand, assuring him that he’s not alone. 

[irelandhoneybee]

I found this the other day when I was looking for something totally unrelated, but this one so cute my immediate thought was “I must do this for Karedevil”

Original post here

Who accidentally pushes a door instead of pulling/vice versa:  Karen. She’s usually in too much of a hurry to pay attention. Matt tries to warn her when he sees her about to do whichever one she’s not supposed to and then she has to listen to him make jokes about how is she sure she isn’t the blind one in the relationship.  The whole thing is very annoying.  

Who doodles little hearts all over the desk with their initials inside them: They both do this, and have no idea the other does it.  Matt finds himself doing it on the days Karen works out of the office.  Karen does it whenever she has to take a lot of notes.  They both find it ridiculous and embarrassing but they keep doing it anyway

 Who starts the tickle fights: Karen.  Matt is very ticklish.  And he’s so adorable when he’s being tickled she simply cannot resist the temptation.  

 Who starts the pillow fights:  Matt.  But it was only the one time.  Karen had been teasing him about finding his clothes next to the hamper instead of in it, saying that his aim must be off.  He had no choice but to grab her pillow and prove to her there was nothing wrong his aim, he had just been extra tired, that was all. And the resulting pillow fight had ended up with both of them naked, making them extremely late for work, so it had been well worth it.  

Who falls asleep last, watching the other with a small affectionate smile: Matt.  Karen is usually already in bed when he gets home, but she’ll wake up when she hears him come in (and will often get up to help him tend to any wounds), but she will fall back to sleep pretty quickly. Matt’s adrenaline is still pretty high when he comes to bed, but listening to Karen’s heartbeat helps calms him down.  He has no control over the little affectionate smile that comes over his face as he’s falling asleep

Who mistakes sugar for salt: Matt.  In his defense they’re incredibly similar, and he was in a hurry, wanting to surprise Karen with breakfast before they left for the office and salt had made it into the batter instead of sugar.  Now whenever they have waffles Karen will ask him if he wants her to pass the salt.    

Who lets the microwave play the loud beeping sound at 1am in the morning:   Karen.  Sometimes when she’s up late working on the couch she’ll make herself a cup of coffee or tea but then forget to drink it right away so she has to stick it in the microwave to warm it up, and then she’ll caught up in work again and forget it in the microwave, prompting it to beep after she’s gone to bed. She doesn’t consider this to be an issue, as Matt is usually just coming in and will take it out before he takes a shower or comes to bed.  If he finds it annoying he’s never said anything to her.  So it’s fine.  

Who comes up with cheesy pick up lines: Matt.  It’s a game between them that stemmed from a guy hitting on Karen with the line “do you believe in love at first sight or should I walk past you again?” while Matt was in the bathroom.  Matt, of course, had heard everything so now he tries to come up with the cheesiest lines he possibly can, for the sole purpose of making Karen laugh.  

Who rearranges the bookshelf in alphabetical order:  Karen. She was restless one night when Matt was later than usual coming home and needed a project to distract her. Her bookshelf at her apartment had never had any kind of order to it, but now that she lived with Matt (who likes things very neat and orderly), she figured why not?  It was a good way to pass the time.  

Who licks the spoon when they’re baking brownies:  Matt.  He can’t help it.  Karen makes excellent brownies (her grandma’s recipe).  One of his jobs is measuring out and adding the chocolate chunks to make them extra chocolatey (and delicious), so he figures  since he helped make them it’s only right he has a taste of the batter before they go in the oven

Who buys candles for dinners even though there’s no special occasion: Karen.  She used to buy scented candles, but with Matt’s extremely sensitive nose she had quickly learned  to buy unscented after she had started burning a cinnamon roll candle and he wouldn’t stop complaining about how “fake” it smelled.  So now she just buys the tall unscented candles and lights them on the weekends, when they actually have time to sit down and have dinner together.    

Who draws little tattoos on the other with a pen: Karen.  Once while they were taking a walk she had remarked on an oddly shaped cloud but apparently was not describing it well enough to Matt so when they got back to the apartment she had grabbed a pen and drawn it on Matt’s hand. She had expected him to wash it off right away, but he kept it on (until it faded on its own after a few days)

Who comes home with a new souvenir magnet every time they go on vacation: Karen. It’s not often they go out of town so Karen can’t help but want to  bring home a little memento when they do.  Currently residing on the fridge is lobster magnet she picked up in Cape Cod where they had gone on a long weekend with Foggy and Marci and one from Niagara Falls.  

Who convinces the other to fill out those couple surveys in the back of magazines: Matt. Once when they had stopped at a café to have lunch a magazine had been left on their table, and Karen had flipped through it, jokingly asking him if he wanted to take the couples quiz.  To her surprise he had eagerly responded yes, and now time they happen to come across a magazine with a quiz Matt insists they take it.  

[icequeenjules26]

The Butterfly Effect - Part I: If a butterfly flaps its wings...

Summary: It is said that if a Butterfly Flaps its wings it can cause a tsunami at the other end of the world... When nature photographer Dan and god of the forests Phil get caught up in the flap of a butterfly's wings, everything could change forever.

Word Count: 2,6k

Tags: Strangers to lovers, God!Phil, Photographer!Dan

A/n: The first chapter of my third fic for this @phandomreversebang. The second part will be up as soon as I can, I promise. Art will be included in the second part and is done by the AMAZINGLY talented @anotherweirdblog (really guys. holy crap.) and beta'd by my Angel @succubusphan.

Read on AO3

Dan never really called himself a horse-boy. He was someone that loved beauty, elegance and aesthetics before anything else, so he told whoever was willing to listen that loving horses just came along with it. If you loved those things, you’d come across horses sooner rather than later. They were majestic in the purest kind of way, and they could take everyone’s breath away with their stunning beauty if the person would just let them. A horse in action would put everything else to shame.

 As a photographer his first ambition was to capture the beautiful essence of real moments and make people see the world like he did. The downside of working with horses was you never truly knew what they would do, but the upside was no pictures with them ever were truly staged. You couldn’t ask them to smile for the camera, and even if you could, there was no guarantee they would truly do it. 

 Theoretically, Dan was also a nature photographer, taking pictures for magazines and blogs, but he tended to combine the job with the hobby and made the journey to his photography destination on horseback. Mostly so he could take pictures of his horse as well to post on his personal horse blog and social media pages. 

 This particular day he had been commissioned to take forest aesthetic pictures with wildflowers - Dan’s specialty. There was a beautiful landscape made for that commission just a few hours over on horseback, so he decided to take his horse and get some beautiful pictures of her as an added bonus.  He also brought his lady dog around to keep his mare in check if anything unforeseeable would happen while taking pictures of her running and playing freely.

 They had been on the way for almost an hour. Diana was running around at their feet, barking at flowers and trees. Athena, the love of his life and best friend through everything, was used to her antics at this point and just huffed from time to time to keep Diana’s excitement in check. 

 They were a good trio like that. Dan adored them both with all his heart, his black ladies, and they just worked. 

 So they made their way towards their destination, unaware of the fact that they’d never get there.

 ___

 Phil was a god.

 And no, that wasn’t said with arrogance, or hubris. It was an actual fact. 

 He wasn’t what christians would call god, the one, all-knowing entity - not that it existed - but he was still a god. The god of forests. 

 Which had a sense of irony, undoubtedly, since he wasn’t allowed to leave his forest. He was forever cursed to stay in his little part, to take care of its animals and plants. And it was nice, he supposed, to have a connection to his particular stretch of forest, to know all the animals by name, being able to communicate with them; nice and exciting - it was just that it had been like this for millennials. Literal millennials. Phil was about as old as the earth itself, and he had been here all his life.  

 He was getting tired of it. 

 Saying that might have made him sound ungrateful or selfish, but that didn’t make it less true. It wasn’t only the fact that he felt like a bird locked in a cage with no way to get out; but also that things in his forest had been the same - or around the same - forever, basically. Nothing new or exciting happened - or at least very rarely. The forest was fairly secluded, hardly anyone ever passed through, and Phil meeting those people happened even less. Even his animals stayed the same - a strong enchantment kept them from growing old, and if they got hurt Phil had the magical ability to nurse them back to health. 

 The only exciting thing was animal babies getting born from time to time, but even those were rare. 

 What brought him the most joy in life were his best friends. Sure, they weren’t typical friends, not human or at least human-like as he was - save for his pointy fairy ears - but they were real friends nonetheless. 

 He loved all of his animals, whoever was living in his forrest, even if he was envious that they could leave whenever they wanted to, but the ones he loved the most were his best friends. Shikamaru, nicknamed Shika, and Temari, sometimes called Tema (but only by Shika if he wanted to piss her off), were deer that had lived with him for millennials. They had been with him through a lot, and somehow, they’d always managed to make him laugh. 

 They shared stories of the outside world with him - they were bound to his forest as well but where allowed to leave from time to time, even if they weren’t able to stay away for long - and just overall kept him upright. Shika was too smart for his own good and the laziest creature you could find, often getting chastised for it by Temari, who was fierce and strong and brave. Even though they fought a lot, they both had the biggest crush on the other and watching them dance around without making a move tended to make Phil’s grey days a lot brighter. 

 As every morning, they had started this one with breakfast. Phil was a god, so thankfully, he was able to get whatever food he wanted, even though he could just as easily live from grass, tree barks and bugs. 

 That morning, he had decided on a ridiculously sweet stack of pancakes basically drowning in syrup, and his fingers were sticky just from touching the plate. He brought it outside to eat while Shika and Temari started grazing in what he’d consider his front yard. They said good morning without many words, just casually nodding at each other, and started eating in comfortable silence, just a few birds chirping in the distance. 

 When they were done, Phil brought his dishes inside to take care of them later, and when he came back out, Temari and Shika had started the first fight of the day. It was never anything too serious, mainly just Shika using the word bothersome too often. Phil laughed as he stepped outside. 

 Temari groaned in frustration. “Please, don’t encourage him!”

 Phil chuckled again. “Sorry, deer.”

 This time, both Temari and Shika groaned about the bad pun and just started walking, not even checking if Phil came after them or not. 

 Something in the air was different this morning, Phil mused as they strolled through the forest. He couldn’t lay his finger on it, but it was there, hiding steep below the surface. The two deer sensed it as well, stepping closer towards Phil, who laid his hands on their necks and started tickling them to calm them down a bit. He could’ve easily just send them a sense of calm mentally, but he didn’t like dictating what they had to feel. They were their own beings with their own personalities and if they felt anxious or nervous they had the right to do so.

 That’s how they walked on, deeper into the darker parts of the forest, neither of them having any clue that their lives were about to change forever.

 ____

 No matter what you call it, be it coincidence, faith, destiny - it is a funny thing, isn’t it? This fickle, irrational thing that sometimes jumps in and changes the direction of everything. That thing that out of nowhere takes ahold of a situation, flips it around, reverses it just to put it back in order, just to mess it right back up again. We call it Butterfly Effect - this bizarre set of motions that just all cause the next thing to happen - this abstract phenomenon where a butterfly flaps its wings and sets off a multitude of occurrences that end in the apocalypse. It’s like a line of dominos, positioned in increasingly complicated twists and turns, getting just a tiny bit taller with every stone that falls, until a domino the size of a fingernail causes one to fall that’s easily the size of a door. 

 Sometimes, usually, moments, occasions, go by unrecognized, unnoticed, like a tiny pebble lying harmlessly on a concrete floor, multitude of people passing by without ever touching it, until one comes by, driving over it with their bike and ending up literally crashing into the love of their life. 

 In this case, it’s fairly similar - just a lot more complicated. 

 How does this relate to our two heroes? You may ask. Well - in retrospect, it is what caused the entirety of what comes next. 

 Looking at Dan, for example, him and his mare were fairly experienced. They’d made it through several hairy situations, sometimes barely pulling through, and yes, she lost her head sometimes, stormed off and left Dan sitting in the dust, but usually, his lady dog managed to have her calm down within just a few canter strides; and the mare never, ever, ever ran too far from her point of takeoff. 

 Or Phil, centuries, no, millennials old - about as old as the earth as we know it - and omniscient, at least concerning his forrest. He hadn’t been surprised by much in ages, especially not hugely surprised, surprised enough to cause his animals to loose their heads and go riot - in fact, that might not have happened in more than a thousand years. 

 Yet, both happenings were set off by two completely different and unrelated occurrences causing everything the boys had planned for their futures, good and bad, to shatter, crumble into dust. Two incidents at roughly the same time, how is that even possible? Might some of you ask now, and, by all means, you have the right to question, it’s just that - this… This thing, this coincidence, faith, destiny, whatever - it works in mysterious ways, so that at this certain point in time, there is no correct way to answer this particular question. It just happened, and it will have consequences reaching deeply, deeply into the future. 

 Because it caused them to meet each other.

 On Dan’s end, it was merely a gust of wind and old, slightly broken electrical wires that, over several different stations, caused Athena to flip and forget all the education she had experienced in her life, all the trust she had in Dan, her best friend. 

 It was a gust of wind that has a tiny, innocent little spider falling into the open window of the powerhouse closest to Dan’s estimated destination. It managed to take a hold of one of the fuses, where it just sat for a while, stunned. When the electricians came in for the daily check-up - just to see if everything was still in order - it moved, startling the electrician, causing him to stumble backwards, just one, two steps… Where his foot landed exactly on a weak point in the wiring on the ground. That weak point had been there for years, proverbial ages, yet nothing had ever happened - just now, when the electricians weight causes the wiring to bent just a little bit further… The wiring broke. The breakpoint stopped the electricity to flow, causing a significant area to be without power.

 Usually, that was not much of a problem. There were just a few houses that far away from everything, barns and cottages that were mostly void of humans at this time of the year, and especially midday hardly anyone even noticed the power was out. Just one cow, a brown steer named Lory, was trying to get to the other side of her electrical fencing - as we all know, the grass on the other side is always greener - and touched the fencing in the progress… Realizing there is no electric shock keeping her back. So she strained the two laces, stepping through between them, easily getting on the other side. The fencing snapped back into place afterwards and none of her friends followed her. 

 For a momentwhile, nothing happened. Lory kept grazing, the herd kept doing the same on the other side of the fence, all was well. Until she wanted to get back, back to her herd, her friends, touched the fencing and got a small electric shock, just a slight pinch, that had her stepping back and realize - her one way back was blocked. She was isolated from her herd. 

 Like every cow in her situation, she flipped, trotted back and forth on her side of the fencing, calling loudly, almost violently for her friends. Her herd came by and panics as well - 

 And that was the point where Athena, Diana and Dan came across the herd. The mare was usually okay with cows, even though she’s always found them creepy, but this - this was simply too much for her. 

 She freaked, storming off, Dan barely hanging on to her, so fast Diana was barely able to follow, let alone trying to calm her down. 

 She ran, almost headless, just trying to get away - unintentionally crossing the border into Phil’s territory. 

 On Phil’s end, it’s not that complicated. It’s just that usually, storms didn’t reach his forrest. The magical barriers he had put up to defend it kept them away. But his wards were wearing off, and this midday, as he strolled along the familiar paths, he discovered a tree almost burned down by a bolt of lightning. Admittedly, not a big deal, but for Phil, who’s life hadn’t held new and unknown happenings for millennials, it was a shock. 

 He didn’t have himself in check, and both Shika and Tema reacted to his sudden mood swing, jumping around violently. 

 And this is where their parts crossed. Where Dan and Phil, literal worlds apart and under normal circumstances further away from meeting than the sun and the moon, suddenly clashed, with a tremor so severe nothing would ever be the same again. 

 ___

 If Athena wouldn’t have flipped, if Levy wouldn’t have left her herd, if the electricity hadn’t been cut off - all the way back to if the gust of wind hadn’t knocked that spider in through the window - they never even would’ve gotten to Phil’s forest. And if the tree wouldn’t have been hit by that lightning bolt, if Phil’s wards wouldn’t have started to wear off exactly the night before and if Phil wouldn’t have freaked, Shika never would’ve jumped around so mindlessly. But both, no, all of those things did happen exactly that way, and that was the only reason everything was about to change.

 Instead of running straight through the forest, not even realizing what they’d set foot in, they passed Phil and his deer, who were going wild. Shka, not paying attention to where he was jumping at all, managed to somehow step exactly on Athena’s path, and that’s how it happened - the still panicked mare only became aware of the equally freaked deer at the last second, had nowhere to go… And by some miracle, instead of crushing straight into him, she managed to somehow step around him, completely losing her footing in the process, crashing onto the ground mercilessly. Being the smart mare that she was, she managed to keep both Diana and Dan relatively unharmed as she went down. 

 Just for one blink of an eye, it seemed as though time was standing still, nothing moving. Blue eyes met brown ones and with a feeling of severity for both boys, the world started moving again like a long dormant suddenly springing back to life, spitting out lava and burning everything around it in the process.

[raleigh-ocean]

just (for) one day

summary: Audrey thought that maybe, inside that dream life she was living thanks to a twist, she could forget what was and dive in what could have been. Just for one day, for an hour, for a few minutes, or as long as she was dancing with her.

N/A: this is really self-indulgent and at the same time I wanted to do something both heartwarming and maybe bittersweet? @shineestark and I talked a lot about Audrey and The Feelings (tm) and I had to do it (for us). I hope you really enjoy it! Also I know you like some kpop so title works (eyes emoji).

Here I leave the originals archive > here < so you can read more about Dahlia, to those who are confused! And the gif above is from here by @ahsgifs

The day arrived making her feel like it took forever to even get there.

She was strained by everything going on, from the wedding preparations to shooting plans; from her insecurities to how she dealt with them. Audrey always knew how to redirect the ‘bad energy’ into something fruitful, but she had too much of that as of lately. Looking at her reflection in the mirror, she still could spot all the little imperfections under the make-up and her on-spot appearance.

But she had to put that all aside today, shielding herself from all the thoughts that were hunting her down everyday.

That was what she wanted, right?

It took her a few minutes to realize she was moving towards somewhere. Her nerves were playing tricks on her again, but not like this time. Everything around her was green, dazzling, flowery and white like her dress; it made her feel confused for a couple seconds until she got to stop at the point she was walking towards to. Audrey looked around trying to calm her nerves, trying to find a familiar face or even a comforting one.

Audrey found it eventually, in the third and last row of chairs. It was only a gesture, a reassuring nod and a timid smile, but it meant the world to her.

The true weight of the situation crashed on her and Rory was already mid-way to meet her in the improvised altar. Only then she felt happiness breaking through her uneasiness and worries and then her head made a mad fast-forward that made her feel out of breath, her now husband holding her close to his chest and kissing her.

She was married now. Married. Not long ago she was single, not long ago she was swimming in this opportunity called ‘dating someone’, not long ago she got drunk enough to just step over it and then, there she was.

A bit unrealistic at times, but she was there and she kind of liked it. Audrey loved that Rory loved her that much, Audrey loved that she loved him back enough to say ‘yes’ when he asked her the big question.

Was she going to be happy? God knows, but she went for it, at full throttle indeed. Was she going to make Rory happy? Bloody hell, she didn’t even know as much as she wanted to be what he needed. What about their jobs? What about sharing their time? What about-

Her head spinning about every possibility only stopped when someone put a hand on her shoulder right after they had their groom and bride first dance. A cold comforting hand that put her down on Earth.

“Hey good-looking,” shy warm voice, easing her thoughts; little smile, telling her everything was okay somehow. “What do a girl have to do to get a dance with her best friend?”

“Just swoop her from the groom’s arms,” and then Audrey had her arms around Dahlia and everything seemed forty times better.

Dahlia with the soothing presence. Dahlia with the soft eyes and holding her like they are the only ones there. That tiny bit of her friend made her special day actually special, like a wake up call.

“A terribly bold move for someone like me,” Audrey felt a strange pull in her guts, a good one for a change, when they started to swing to the rhythm of the current song. “But you did smiled, so worth it feeling like a badass.”

Audrey laughed openly at that, words not matching the tenderness in the other woman. She always was like that, trying to make her feel better even when she was going through hell. Oh for fuck’s sake, she even put on a dress for her wedding and Audrey knew how insecure that made the other woman feel.

“My cheeks hurt from smiling, what are you talking about?” she hit Dahlia's arm slightly, playful smirk already spreading in her lips. “Are you having fun? Did you eat well?”

Common wedding questions that covered whatever Dahlia was going to say. Audrey felt bad doing that, but she didn't want her to elaborate in how she couldn't feel the smile in her eyes. They engaged in some more of those questions before going over totally unrelated stuff and even talk about the other guests.

Audrey was being so selfish since the moment she invited Dahlia, but she wanted to have the only one person aside of Rory that made her feel loved by her side.

Sometimes her mind wandered around the ‘what if’s in moments like this. Swinging in Dahlia's arms, hugging her, eyes closed and head hiding in the crook of her neck. Audrey felt transported to a couple months ago, guilt tickling her stomach as a faint feeling.

What if she had chosen to not keep their affair a two-woman secret, coming clean with everything? Would the woman in front of her be the one being congratulated instead of the man in the blue suit? Or maybe would they wait to be more time together before deciding to tie the knot?

Rory made her want to keep going with her career as an actress, as much as the sudden fame had strained her dream; but when she looked at the sheer happiness in Dahlia's brown eyes, all of it just by being around Audrey, she felt herself missing her days at the theater, imagining those same eyes watching her act from the front row with that same raw emotion.

Coming home and finding someone watching some sappy show on TV instead of an empty house and a message; not feeling jealous half the time, maybe? insecurities eased by gentle hands massaging her shoulders instead of too many kisses.

“Is it impolite to keep the bride for another song?” Audrey didn't open her eyes, still in her little daydreaming state, and just shook her head while chuckling. Why was she always so respectful? Bloody hell, it was her wedding and if her friend wanted another dance then she will have it. “Thank you for inviting me, miss Monahan.”

“Oh no, no, I'm keeping the Tindall, don't call me that,” another good laugh from both and Audrey felt better when Dahlia tighten their hug a bit. “Don't thank me, how could I leave you out?”

Now she knew she was being selfish by holding onto her friend better and leaving a little kiss in her neck before going back to hiding in the crook of Dahlia's neck. All the daydreaming was her doing this, her doing that, her, her, her.

Audrey knew Dahlia deserved better than someone like her or like Shelby.

As much as she didn't like it, both were the same in too many aspects…the only thing they differed was that at least Audrey knew what was wrong with herself. Thinking about the offer both Rory and her had, maybe she could use that opportunity to knock some sense in that airhead...and that also would be the most selfish thing, because if she took the chance like Shelby did she wasn't being any different from her.

Being completely honest, even daydreaming about how could it be was unfair for the other woman.

“I don't know Audrey,” Dahlia shrugged a bit and kissed her head absent-minded. “It happens all the time.”

Audrey thought that maybe, inside that dream life she was living thanks to a twist, she could forget what was and dive in what could have been. Just for one day, for an hour, for a few minutes, or as long as she was dancing with her.

But the truth was that the choice they made was the right one all along. The right one for her and the best one for her too.

Stopping from being that self-centered was a hard task, indeed, but at least she was trying to get there, okay?

Rory was smiling at her from across the dancefloor when she opened her eyes, and he looked so obliviously happy without knowing the vast deepness of her thoughts. Just like any other groom would look at his bride, being happy the day of their wedding thanks to their friends and each other presence.

Then he walked towards them, until Audrey felt the nervous tremble in her friend's hands when the younger man asked ever so gently for permission to get the bride back. Rory held her differently, but she still liked it, welcoming another big kiss with that feeling of being wanted growing bigger than anything else.

“The cake's been calling me for a while now,” Dahlia laughed and Audrey smiled at her never-ending hunger for sweets. “Enjoy your time, lovebirds. I'm really happy for you.”

Audrey caressed Rory's nape with the tips of her fingers, both mesmerized in how the other woman seemed to get lost in the new melody, walking away and probably thinking about how many slices of cake she was going to eat.

When she stopped and turned around unexpectedly, Audrey felt the urge of returning to her arms but feeling Rory's laugh made her stay where she was.

The right thing to do was staying by Rory's side, learning to both love him and love herself.

The best thing to do was helping Dahlia to get over Shelby by acting like her best friend.

“You better treat her well, Monahan,” the woman smiled a bit more confident, almost looking mischievous. “I’m not given to violence, but I know how to hold my ground when someone I love is hurt.”

They both exchanged a little salute of some sort and then she was gone, leaving Audrey with her handsome husband.

“She looks better now,” Rory was smiling sadly for a second and then proudly the next. “I think coming did her some good, I’m glad she accepted the invitation in the end.”

Why he was such a sweetheart? Audrey kissed him again and then took his hand, intertwining their fingers.

“So am I, my darling,” sometimes her voice dropped to that soft tone, marking she still was a bit deep in thought, before changing to one happier when a new song started to play. “Oh, I love this one, come on!”

She was still wasn’t sure how she would handle being in Shelby’s presence, but for that one day Audrey decided to not think about her and spend the rest of her special day with those she cared the most.