#well its night for me at least. which means sleepy time now

[mitathemita]

careful, man, you’re gonna fall!!!!!!!

(bits i liked/closeups & lineart under cut!!!)

psssttt… i’ve also got comms open !!!! go check it out if you’re interested!!!!

[nexus-nebulae]

damn i actually had a pretty good streak there of not having bad insomnia days. that's pretty impressive for me like i haven't really had one since early January

[aluciahaz]

One bed trope with Adam except we wake up in the middle of night feeling him unconsciously grinding his hard-on against us and we take it into our hands (literally) to help him🫣

( he wakes up before we actually do anything so it’s all consensual ofc.. )

🦅🦅LETS FUCKIBG GOO🦅🦅 i love (babying) this dumb bitch!!! this is kinda more ooc adam but i hope you still like it !

truth prevails

—adam x gn!reader

—tags : handjob, bottom adam, dom!reader, absolute overuse of the nickname baby and baby boy 😭

what a fucking wake up call.

you really should’ve just made adam sleep on the couch.

honestly, you aren’t even that surprised that he was grinding against you while asleep, murmuring your name in a soft voice. it was quite nice actually, compared to his usually brash one.

especially his whimpers.

“lemme cum...please-fuck….” his head would nuzzle further into your neck, his breath hot against your skin as his hips kept bucking up. so he was in that type of mood, huh?

well… then maybe it wouldn’t hurt to indulge in his fantasies for a just little bit. after all, it was hard to get him to bottom without him throwing a tantrum. which, of course would just lead him to get wrecked, just the way he liked it.

“adam.”

“mm…mhm?” his eyes slowly open, his arms still around your waist as you turn around to look at him. his confused expression is almost cute in a way, although a bit disheveled with his hair falling in front of his face.

“what were you dreaming about, baby?” you ask, a smirk forming on your lips as you stroke his hair, running your fingers through his coarse strands. your other hand snakes around to his hip, teasing his waistband just slightly.

adam, now shocked, looks at you with an almost abashed expression before clearing his throat, going back to his egotistical persona.

“uh, psh, fucking you, duh,”

well, at least he was honest. somewhat.

“and begging for me to let you cum?” you ask bluntly, raising your eyebrow at him as you chuckle. his mien was what you could on describe as flabbergasted. it was clear he had no idea what he was doing to you just a few minutes ago.

clueless, cute, baby.

you coo at him, the hand on his hair moving down underneath his chin as you cup it gently. still sleepy, instead of pulling away with a scoff like usual, he leans into it, letting his instincts take over.

“how would you know?” he says with a grin, clearly doubtful, yet the anxious twitch of his smile shows that he was less relaxed than he portrayed himself to be.

“you talk in your sleep.”

“…” he stares at you for a few seconds before laughing nervously.

“nooooo…?”

the deadpan expression on your face says it all. so much so it makes him feel way too awkward, forcing him to retract his statement.

“…sorry.”

“i don’t know why you try even and lie when you’re so bad at it.”

he frowns at you, furrowing his eyebrows.

“whatever! are you gonna do something about my hard-on or keep making digs at me?”

“i could always do both.”

the smirk on your face widens as your hand slips past his waistband, your hands tracing his v-line ever so delicately, your touch light as an angel’s feather.

“you just have to say please.”

“fuck you.”

“not today, honey,”

adam just rolls his eyes, grumbling as he ponders on what to do. that’s not good, he isn’t made to think.

quickly, your hand under his chin places a finger on his bottom lip, just barely tipping over to make its way inside of his mouth to distract him.

“come on, baby. don’t you want to be a good boy for me?” you kiss his neck, gentle and sweet like a divine’s touch. “just think about how nice it would be to let everything go, let me take care of you. my perfect, little angel.”

he stifles a moan, but with how close the two of you were, you could hear it clear as day. usually, it would take way longer to get him in such a state, but apparently the tedious process was 2 times faster when he was sleepy.

clearly this means you should do this more often.

"...please-ah!"

he can't even finish his sentence before your hand wraps around his cock, stroking it in nice, slow movements as you whisper in his ear. "good boy!" you praise, your fingers leaving his lips and slipping underneath his light shirt. with the tips of your fingers, you pull and twist at his sensitive buds, reveling in his sweet whimpers and cries as his chest jerks up into your hand.

"tell me what you really dreamt of, baby. were you all pliant underneath my hand? maybe even getting fucked by me? tell me truth."

all he can do is whine as his legs quiver, digging his head further into the crook of your neck as he pants. his wings start to flap a little against the bed, and only from a few touches.

"okay okay! i—yeah," he tried gulped away his embarrassment, but the heat on his face was a clear indicator of his nervousness. "you—you fucked me and told me all these-these stupid little compliments-yes, oh—!"

you laugh as you he bucks his hips into your grip, trying to chase more pleasure before pulling away, deaf to the groan of annoyance coming from the man.

"don't get greedy, baby boy." you chide, shaking your head in disapproval. "take what you get, nothing more, and maybe you'll get a reward!" you say, kissing his cheek sweetly in contrast to your cruel command.

"oh—oh, okay! oka—ayy!" he mewls shakily, clawing at your waist as he tries to stop his hips from moving. surprisingly, he does quite well, letting you take control of the pace with only a few jerks up into your fist. but, you decide to let it go, after all, adam was being sweeter than usual.

"alright, alright, you can move now, baby. you did so good for me."

"yes! finally—ngh! fuck—thank you...!" he cries, moving his hips quickly into your grasp as he finds himself getting lost in his own pleasure.

you didn't even need to remind him to be grateful, how polite! he's learning!

he wails your name like a weeping sinner, hoping that you'd grace him with your love and mercy.

which, of course you would. for once, he's earned it without much push at all! perhaps this would set as an example on what he should do next time instead of being a brat all the time.

"cum for me, my love. you deserve it," you croon, moving your fist faster and faster with his pace. the hand on his chest presses harder onto his nipple, twisting the way you know he loves—as much as he denies he's a masochist, you know by the way he keens that he's just being proud—and let him keep babbling about anything that comes to his muddled little mind. yeah, you'll bless him just this once.

"i love you, love—love you, i love—ah—ah!"

adam sobs shamelessly as he reaches his climax, his hips stuttering as he slowly returns from his high. his whole body goes limp as he shuts his eyes, his hands falling from your waist as he steadies his breathing.

you wipe the tears away from his eyes, peppering his face with kisses.

“see? this is what you get for being good.”

“mm..mmmhm,” adam hums mindlessly before falling into silence. strange, he was usually big on pillow talk—

you hear a soft snore coming from beneath you, slow breaths loud amongst the quietude of your shared bedroom.

…seems like your baby boy fell asleep.

a/n - please someone request like a mommy/daddy kink for any of the goobers i write for i am INSPIRED rn im opening my reqs rn 😭

tags : @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx

[jmdbjk]

Privates First Class Park Jimin and Jeon Jungkook: Our first real look.

Jimin and Jungkook. I know, I'm being insufferable but I can't NOT dwell on them a little more. Festa activities will make us move past this so fast as things always do in BTS Army life.

But you don't realize how much is bottled up or how starving you've been until you finally get to feast on that one thing you've been missing. That didn't sound very appealing and I'm not really that pathetic (its mostly the busy-ness inside my head) but you know what I mean, right? I've missed them soooo much!

Military life seems to have been going well for them. Since January we've had very little news about them. Just military blips here and there... training with U.S. Marines... kitchen police... cooking rice... cleaning from top to bottom... learning to aim big-ass missiles and hitting targets and living on rations for a week. Even receiving recognition for outstanding service.

Almost every day I imagine them doing their daily duties and all... but there was little to go by. And that's fine. Some of those things I don't want to think about. But that's what they are doing every day.

Seeing them in real time in the flesh is very reassuring.

One thing that was noticeable to me is that Jimin and Jungkook did not look like their usual sleepy-head selves they are at that time of the morning. But they both looked strong and composed. Going to bed every night like a normal person and getting a good night's sleep is a healthy habit they will probably break the moment they are discharged.

Jimin... just wow. His hair grew out. No more buzz cut. But also, the duality continues:

Someone posted a comparison pic of Jimin's painted nails and a close up of his hands which now have what look like healed spots on his hands and knuckles and scuffed nails... I don't have the pic but it shows how he's fully immersed in his military duties. Hands do get beat up somewhat when you work with them a lot.

Jungkook looked amazing.

Jungkook's little burn scars... that damn edge of the oven or hot pan will get you when you least expect it! Got him twice too! Ouchie! I hope it didn't bother him for too long. To the infirmary!

He'll get Polyc to cover that up with a new tattoo. Or maybe design one around it to highlight Jungkook's battle scars he received while an enlisted man.

One thing they are most likely gaining now is self-confidence in the ability to do something NOT in their wheelhouse. Leading people or working with people who are not the ones they used to see day in and day out for ten years. Learning new skills, being part of a different team, doing different things can be enriching and will enhance other parts of their lives.

Not being with the people who are paid to be there to make sure they look good and every whim is taken care of....the isolation had to be culture shock for them. Knowing they are together, that center of familiarity when they are faced with something new, is a great source of comfort.

Jimin and Jungkook showed up to Jin's discharge in full uniform. I will assume they arrived together straight from their base, where they must remain in their uniforms at all times.

Hugs all around. Jimin's are the best, most heartfelt hugs.

Jimin and Tae's hug... I felt that shit. The squeeze, the "no, don't let go yet," the fullness of it. They mean a lot to each other. I know they've always been close, they've told us so, they've reminded us they speak to each other often even when they weren't working as a group.

And I'm sorry but the awkward side hug between Tae and JK was not "tHeY jUsT sPeNt TiMe ToGeThEr." Be for real. Are you fucking blind? That was Tae saying "bro, didn't realize you walked up behind me, are you not gonna hug me too?" And JK going "oh, well, ok if you insist, bro (since you won't let go of my wrist)."

No, Jimin and Jungkook did not hug each other... they just got out of the car that they rode in from their base where they live together. Where they showered and got dressed and ate breakfast together before getting in the car. It is perplexing how that is even a question I see people put out there.

There was curiosity as to whether Jimin and Jungkook were on day leave or what and initially seeing them in uniform the first assumption is that they might be only on temporary day leave and would have to return to base that evening. But then we got the group pic at the Hybe building and Jimin and Jungkook had changed clothes. From what I understand, when a soldier is on day leave, they must remain in uniform AT ALL TIMES during that day. No quick change into some other clothes for a while. REMAIN IN UNIFORM AT ALL TIMES NO MATTER WHAT. So them being in civvies tells us they are on vacation/days off. We don't know how much time they took off but perhaps they won't go back to the base until Monday.

During their days off they will probably separate and go do their own thing. Maybe they will take time to go to Busan and visit fam. Most likely, Jungkook will go check on the progress of the Itaewon house construction (the exterior of JK's new house is black and it will have a tiny balcony that faces the street and appears to have some livable rooftop space). Jungkook may visit Bam. They may visit their other friends. Since the entire group was there, they most likely shared how they were doing and most likely talked about next year.

The delulu mode has activated...

[moanz111]

daisy. - kang yeosang

pairing ❀ poet! yeosang x gn! florist! reader

genre ❀ fluff, strangers to lovers, one shot

synopsis ❀ for you, flowers are the doors to people's souls. so when a mysterious man with a strange obsession with daisies comes into your flower shop on your opening day, you can't help but feel drawn to him.

w.c. ❀ 4.3 k

warnings ❀ kissing, drinking, so so much fluff, english is not my native language, so there can be mistakes

credits for all the used graphics belong to their rightful owners!

song recs ❀ daisy. - wave to earth; i'm in love - colde

The sweet aroma of flowers filled your senses as you spun around in your desk chair, taking in the atmosphere. You were sure there wasn’t a day in your life you’d felt happier. Maybe you had exaggerated a bit when you said that to your friend Wooyoung this morning during one of your usual face time sessions, but you knew there was a pinch of truth. 

Last week that would’ve been a distant silly childhood dream, but luck was on your side. You had tried your best, day and night, to make this a reality, and as usual - hard work had paid off. Younger you would’ve freaked out if they could see you now - sitting behind the counter of your own flower shop. 

You had always loved flowers - the way each type had its distinguishable scent, vibrant colours, unique forms, and, above all - their meaning. What had been just a quick exploration of your grandmother’s garden when you were ten turned out to be the reason for your obsession. 

“Yellow tulips are my favourite,” the older woman had said, swiping away the sweat formed under the brim of her broad straw hat as you walked around her most prized possession. You asked her curiously why, crouched down to take in their sweet fragrance. “Their meaning reminds me of you - like them, you’re my little sunshine and happiness.”

The memory filled your heart with nostalgia. You missed those times a lot, but you knew your grandmother was your number one supporter ever since you had told her about your wish to become a florist. She was the first to know about the shop too.

Flowers were fascinating to you, even though most people around you didn’t understand what was so special about them. All that didn’t matter to you. You finally had your space to cherish them as much as you wanted.

Today was the opening of your shop, and you couldn’t wait to welcome your first client. Unable to stay still, you got up and started picking up some flowers from the buckets around you - might as well fill your time doing something productive. Your first bouquet for the day was going to be special - a pink and yellow tulip one. 

As you arranged the freshly cut flowers on the counter, humming along to the song playing on the radio next to you, you couldn’t help but smile for probably the hundredth time since you woke up. Yellow tulips for cheerfulness, pink - for good wishes and friendships. Too busy repeating their meaning in your mind, you didn’t notice the ringing of the small bell, placed at the entrance, signaling that someone had entered the store. 

“Excuse me, are you open?” The raspy voice of the newcomer startled you, and you dropped your scissors on the floor, looking up. You were almost blinded. The man standing at the doorframe was, to say the least, breathtaking. His dark hair fell loosely around his face, and he seemed as if he was stifling a yawn. You took notice of his clothes too - he was wearing a white shirt, tugged in black, elegant pants, and you wondered what kind of job he had. 

“Oh, yes,” you said after clearing your throat with a quiet cough. “Please, welcome.”

“Are you busy? I can come later,” the man responded, pointing to the almost-finished bouquet before you as he approached you. Now up close, you were sure - he was gorgeous. Feeling flustered under his studying sleepy gaze, you bent down to pick up the fallen scissors. 

“Oh, no, I’m just passing the time,” you explained as you got up. You saw him holding a hardcover book, which he placed on the counter, smiling gently. The cover had you staring at it in awe - it depicted a small green field filled with daisies, but from your angle, you couldn’t read the title or the author’s name.

“Congratulations on opening. I’m your neighbour, so to speak,” he joked, stretching out his right hand. “Yeosang, nice to meet you.”

His hand was warm, and his grip was firm when you shook it, introducing yourself. “Let me guess…”

Yeosang raised his eyebrows with a grin, waiting for your next words. “You’re the bookstore’s owner.”

“How did you know?” You laughed at his genuine surprise and shrugged, “Guess I was born with psychic abilities.”

“I should’ve hidden the book,” Yeosang murmured, frowning. “Yes, but I’m also an author.”

He picked up the book from the counter and handed it to you. You noticed a faint blush on his cheeks. This time you saw the cover properly - Illusion.  A collection of poetry by Kang Yeosang. You ran your fingers through the title, admiring the beautifully illustrated daisies. Yeosang’s low chuckle made you look up at his face again, feeling a little embarrassed. “You like the flowers, don’t you?”

“Caught in the act,” you said, grinning when he threw his head back and laughed louder this time. “It’s beautiful. I’ll definitely read it.”

“I hope you like it. Do tell me which one is your favourite,” Yeosang answered, taking a business card from his pocket and handing it to you. There were even more daisies at the back of it. Sensing your amusement, he quickly explained, “Daisies are my favourite. Don’t judge me too much.”

“I never judge based on flower tastes,” you exclaimed, shaking your head.

“I feel like you just lied to me,” Yeosang’s mischievous tone made you smile again. “Take this as an official invitation to my book premiere tomorrow. The book isn’t out yet, so don’t give any spoilers.”

“Yeah,” you teased. “I’ll just post a few screenshots. Nothing more.”

“I might have to take it back, be careful,” he tilted his head to the right, his expression serious. Why was your heart fluttering? “Actually, I came to buy some flowers. So what would you say are the perfect flowers for the start of the week?”

His question caught you off guard, but your brain was already searching for the answer. Looking around the buckets filled with flowers behind him, you murmured more to yourself than speaking directly to him, “Daffodils for new beginnings, chrysanthemums for optimism and joy…”

“You sure know a lot about it, huh,” Yeosang’s deep voice shifted your focus back on him, and you felt heat rush into your cheeks. “Then I’d take seven daffodils, please.”

Trying to contain your excitement from having your first customer, you made a simple composition, adding a few branches of baby’s breath around the white daffodils and tying them with a simple yellow ribbon. While you were working, you felt Yeosang’s intense stare still on you, making your hands tremble a little. “Here you are.”

The man smiled warmly as you handed him the small bouquet. “Have a nice day, Y/N. I’ll be waiting for you.”

As you watched him turn and wave at you one last time from the door before he left, you let out a sigh. 

Yes, this was the best day of your life.

“Yeah, he was definitely flirting with you,” your friend Wooyoung shouted while you were taking your third shot for the night, both of you sitting on the soft carpet in your living room in your pajamas. You had invited him earlier to celebrate the shop’s opening, but you definitely hadn’t expected him to show up with a bag filled with soju bottles. 

After Yeosang had left, the day was relatively quiet and uneventful. A few customers came in and left satisfied, and your parents visited you too. Your sales weren’t that great, but at least you did what you loved the most. And now you regretted sharing your encounter with the handsome poet with your best friend.

“Stop making things weird. He was just being nice,” you answered, your mind already envisioning Yeosang’s face as if he was standing right in front of you again. You would’ve lied if you said you didn’t like him and hadn’t thought about him around ten times today. Maybe even more. You even read some of his poems while waiting for customers and were left speechless. He had a beautiful way with words for which you envied him a bit - to manage to convey your emotions through a few lines so well was something you found awfully attractive.

“You always think that men “are just being nice” to you,” Wooyoung rolled his eyes, pouring you and him another drink. At this rate, you had no idea how you were getting up for work tomorrow, but it was expected - nights with him were always like this. 

You had known him all your life, with your moms being best friends since university. He was the person in your life who knew you the most and wanted the best for you. You were always grateful to have him close to you, but at the same time, you really wanted to smack him right now. 

“You’re being annoying again,” you groaned and pulled playfully his pierced ear, to which he whined. “Stop playing a matchmaker.”

“Stop being so single,” Wooyoung teased you and emptied his glass, pointing at yours to do the same. You gladly took that shot. If the conversation kept going this way, you had to be intoxicated as much as possible. “And my judgment is never wrong.”

“After my disaster of a date with Yunho, you still have the guts to think that?”

Wooyoung loved setting you up with his friends, and you, honestly, had no idea why. Every single date went the same way - they took you to a nice restaurant, you had dinner, talked for a bit, and then they escorted you to your apartment, hoping to be invited in. You didn’t do it. And they didn’t call again either. 

Wooyoung was always telling you you had too high standards, and you felt silly crushing on a man you saw for the first time today and knew nothing about.

“Hey, slight miscalculations happen. And I always pick out the hottest people for you,” Wooyoung stated in a matter-of-fact tone. “But seriously, step up your game. You can’t spend your whole life sniffing flowers.”

The pillow hit him right in the face, to your satisfaction.

You didn’t mind the flowers being your only company at all.

The following day was, to say the least, extremely nerve-wracking. Yeosang had come by to see you first thing in the morning and to remind you of his premiere. He didn’t stay for long, saying he still had a lot of things to prepare, and left after buying some roses of different colours to decorate his bookstore. 

Little did he know, you’d spent the night tossing and turning, wondering what to wear, what to say, and after Wooyoung’s comments about Yeosang you couldn’t even imagine looking him in the eyes. There was no way you could’ve forgotten about tonight.

So after changing out of your working apron and putting on the outfit you’d picked out as the best in your closet, you headed over to Yeosang’s bookstore - Little Miracles, holding the bouquet of tulips you’d made the day before. 

It suited his style, you concluded when you entered the small and cozy shop, filled with stacks of books everywhere. You took your time, walking around the shelves, occasionally picking up some books. You realised it was more of an antiquarian bookstore with many special editions of your favourite works, such you’d never seen before.  

“You like something?” His deep voice startled you and sent a wave of shivers down your spine. You felt your heart skip a beat when you turned to look at Yeosang, standing on your left for who knows how long before you noticed him. Just like yesterday, he was dressed in formal attire, 

but this time his hair was slicked back, exposing his forehead, with a few strands falling in front of his eyes. You knew you were staring, probably even gawking at him, but he looked so nice. “I mean the books.”

Feeling heat burning your cheeks, you looked away from his amused eyes. “I think I might want to live here.”

Yeosang grinned at you and pointed to the book you were holding - Dracula by Bram Stocker. You had read it when you were younger, and you couldn’t deny that it was the beginning of your vampire obsession phase. “You can take it as a gift. I appreciate that you came.”

“Oh, it looks too expensive.” And truly you were a bit afraid to not damage or stain the black and red hardcover with an ominous castle drawn in the middle. You couldn’t possibly accept this as a gift even though you thought you’d cry if you took it.

“Please,” Yeosang said hopefully, pushing the book to your chest. “Then keep it safe for me?”

The spark in his eyes was enough to convince you. “I guess I have to take it then…”

“Now that wasn’t so difficult, was it,” the man teased you, leaning with one hand on the bookshelf next to him. “You’re always welcome here. Come whenever you want to.”

“Thank you,” you blushed at his words even more, maintaining eye contact with him becoming too difficult. “Oh, these are for you. Congratulations.”

You handed him the bouquet, feeling the need to turn his attention away from you. Otherwise, you had no idea how you were going to survive the night. Yeosang thanked you and shifted his position, so now he stood much closer to you than before. “I’d love us to talk more, but I have to start the meet and greet soon. How about I treat you to dinner later?”

“Oh,” you stuttered, barely processing what was happening. “Yes, of course. I’d love to.”

“Great,” he chuckled, checking his wristwatch with a sigh. You noticed his hands were slightly trembling. 

“Hey, don’t be nervous,” you tried comforting him. “You have talent, and your poems are amazing.”

“So you’ve read them,” Yeosang shot you a wide smile. “I’m not letting you go anywhere before you tell me about this later.”

Feeling too flustered to answer, you nodded and followed behind him as Yeosang led you to the centre of the bookstore where he had placed some chairs, most of them occupied. You took a seat at the back, trying to calm down your racing heart.

If a flower could describe your feelings now, it would be a pink rose. 

Happiness.

Yeosang was a smooth talker.

Even though you’d known him for only two days, you felt as if he had been there your whole life. After his signing session ended and he sent off the last bit of guests, he closed the bookstore and took you to your favourite part of the city, full of quiet and cozy restaurants where you could get to know each other uninterrupted.

You had a lot in common - you both liked matcha lattes and chocolate muffins, enjoyed riding your bikes, watching the sunset, and you both hated spicy food, loud places and queuing for a book at the bookshop on its release day. 

Yeosang told you about his bookstore and how it had all started. Surprisingly, he had graduated as a film major but hadn’t made any progress in that field, so he decided to turn to his hobby - writing. That’s how almost four years ago he opened his shop and started collecting old and tattered books, trying to find them a new home. You loved the spark in his eyes when he told you his story and realised you felt the same way about flowers. All you wanted was for the people who bought them to continue appreciating them as much as you did. 

You also noticed he was much shyer than you thought him to be, which you found endearing, and wondered how many more sides of him you were yet to uncover. His calm demeanor made you feel at home and safe with him, and you really didn’t want the night to end.

“So, tell me more about your daisies,” you began, taking a sip from your glass of wine. Yeosang let out a low chuckle, shaking his head.

“Are you that curious?” He challenged you, and honestly, you weren’t sure if it was because of all the wine you had or him or both, but you had the urge to look away. The teasing glint in his gaze was too much for your poor soul, and you felt as if you were burning up every time you locked eyes. 

“Well, you don’t see every day a grown-up man with a daisy obsession, so yeah,” you answered, fidgeting with your fingers nervously. Yeosang looked confident in your eyes, but you could still see a slight redness creep up his neck.

“Well,” he started explaining, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. “I guess they just remind me of my childhood. When I was younger, I used to live in the countryside with my family for a while. There was this huge field with daisies where my parents, older sister, and I went every weekend. They bring me comfort, and I like their meaning as well.”

You imagined little Yeosang running around a big green field, chasing after butterflies and picking up daisies. Your heart might have as well burst at this point. “That sounds so adorable.”

“You think so? The bees weren’t so adorable,” he arched his eyebrows, smirking, and took a sip from his glass. “So, tell me about your flowers then. A story for a story.”

“My grandma used to be a florist herself in the past, so ever since I was born, there were flowers everywhere around me,” you recall, thinking of all the times she’d let you watch her tend her garden and help her water the small buds, waiting for them to grow. “I love everything about them - even though some people say they are just temporary happiness. There’s beauty in the fleeting too.”

“Let’s drink to that then,” Yeosang grinned, raising his glass. You did the same and nodded to him to continue. “To all the flowers and all the happy memories they leave behind.”

Over the next few months, you fell into a comfortable daily routine. You opened your shop at 8 in the morning, picked out the freshest flowers from the daily delivery you ordered from a local garden, and spent the whole day arranging bouquets until 5 in the afternoon. 

It fascinated you how people with different purposes, goals, and fates came to you to seek the comfort of flowers - some - for grief and loss, others - for first dates and confessions. You were always happy to help and introduce them to a deeper understanding of flowers.

The only variable in your life was Yeosang.

Your relationship remained painfully unlabeled. 

Were you dating? Kind of. You went out a few days per week, and whenever you didn’t, you stayed in his bookstore after you’d finished working, sharing a couple of hours of comfortable silence with him. During these quiet moments, he wrote his poems or read to you while you sat curled up on the sofa in his small office, reading whatever book you found that day or just listening to his soothing voice. 

Your mornings together were also something you loved. Yeosang, unlike you, was an early bird. His usual shift started at 10 a.m., but he came earlier so he could spend some extra time with you under the pretense he had nothing else to do. When you arrived at the shop, he was already sitting on the stairs in front of it, holding his daily gift, as called it, in his hands and shyly handed it to you. Usually, it consisted of a couple of daisies he’d picked up from the park next to his apartment building and a note wishing you a nice day or containing a short scribbled poem that always made you laugh. 

And your days were truly nice. Except you couldn’t stop thinking about Yeosang even for a minute. 

Today was no different, but this morning Yeosang seemed more nervous than usual. The sweat, glistening on his forehead, and his shaking hands as he handed you the daisies and a small piece of paper made you wonder what had him so worked up this early. He didn’t stay long, saying he had “some things to take care of” and left you alone, standing puzzled in the middle of your shop. 

Once you opened the folded note, you found out why Yeosang was acting so strangely.

Please, come and meet me at a field of daisies and dreams. 

Your hands were sweaty, your heart was probably beating in an inhumane rate, and you were smiling too widely as you walked to the location Yeosang had written on his morning note. It was past 7 p.m., and you could see the last vibrant colours of the fading sun light up the sky. The spring afternoon breeze caressed your face and swirled some cherry blossoms around you. You felt like you were a fairy tale character, surrounded by early-bloomed spring flowers and trees at your favourite park. It was close to your shop and one of the main reasons you chose that exact rental place. You loved going there after work, taking a long walk, and clearing up your thoughts whenever you felt the need to. You honestly didn’t expect Yeosang to remember this location since you’d told him about it a long time ago, yet he always found a way to surprise you.

There were a lot of people during this time of the day, so it was difficult spotting Yeosang in the sea of faces around you, but once you did - you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. 

No matter how many times you saw his face, you were always amazed. Now was no different - his bootcut jeans and blue t-shirt suited him perfectly, and his hair was hidden under a white beanie. He was holding a tote bag decorated with daisies in one hand as he waved at you with his free one. 

“Hey,” Yeosang beamed at you, pulling you in for a hug when he came closer. Wrapping your hands around him, you could smell the woody scent of his perfume and felt the softness of his dark locks at the nape of his neck under your fingertips. “You look beautiful.”

This date was going to be the end of you, for sure.

The cool night wind, the shimmering of the street lamps, and the calm breathing of Yeosang lying in your lap made you feel at peace. The sun was long gone under the horizon, and you had no idea how much time had passed since he pulled you to sit down on a soft blanket and took out of his bag probably the sweetest strawberries you’d ever eaten. Yeosang had definitely come prepared for this spontaneous picnic date. 

Now you ran your fingers mindlessly through his silky hair as he told you a story about some customer he had today. The position you were in felt domestic and comfortable as if you’d done this thousands of times before. You found it hard to concentrate on his voice when Yeosang started drawing random shapes on your thighs and then had the audacity to ask you about your day. If your head hadn’t been spinning from the overwhelming feeling of him, you would’ve probably answered him.

“Hey,” he whispered, his fingertips brushing your cheeks, trying to get your attention as he got up from your lap. The loss of his touch made you miss his warmth. “You’re spacing out.”

“You’re very distracting.” Unable to look at him or form any other coherent answer, you shifted your gaze to the small daisies growing on your right amongst the grass. You reached out your hand to touch them and felt the grass around them tickle your palm. 

“Now who’s obsessed with daisies, huh,” said Yeosang, amused, wrapping his fingers around your chin to turn your face to him. For a split second, you stopped hearing the world around you - the children’s laughter, the faded sound of music, coming from somewhere around you, all became muted under the rhythm of your heartbeat, ringing in your ears. It was just you and his soft gaze, studying your face, and Yeosang, rubbing his thumb across your chin. You saw his eyes wander downwards to your lips before he asked in a hushed voice, “Can I kiss you?”

Seconds after your nod, you felt Yeosang’s warm lips on yours. At first, his kiss was light and hesitant, and his movements- were slow and deliberate. You reached up to hold on to his t-shirt as he cupped your face with his big hands. The coldness of his palms made you shiver. Where you touched, you felt as if electricity was running through your body.

Before you knew it, Yeosang deepened the kiss, making you gasp for breath. Your shaky hands grabbed his shoulders for support while his moved to your thighs. It was too much. His lips left yours only to feel them on your neck, leaving shy kisses along your jawline and then continuing downwards. His lips stopped right above the daisy charm hanging from your silver necklace, which he had gifted you. The pink blush on Yeosang’s cheeks and the warmth and love you saw in his dark eyes were more than enough to make your heart swell with adoration. 

Yeosang reached for a small, freshly bloomed daisy beside him and pulled it from the ground. Placing it behind your ear, he caressed your cheek gently. “Do you know what’s the meaning of daisies?”

“Of course I do,” you replied, sounding offended. At this point, he had to know you were a walking flower encyclopedia. “New beginnings, purity, and faith.”

“That’s all?” Yeosang pressed, leaning in closer to your face again. The proximity had your head spinning. “I’ve heard of another one too.”

“And what is it?” You were feeling out of breath, his lips only centimeters away from yours. 

“True love.” 

These were his only words before Yeosang captured your lips in another kiss under the night sky and the stars shimmering above you.

You wanted this moment to last forever.

Daisies, you decided, were your favourite flowers.

note ❀ happy (late) birthday to yeosang! ♡

after a short delay, i finally had time to finish daisy so thank you everyone for waiting! i hope you enjoyed reading it! i'm still not very confident in writing stuff like that so feedback is appreciated! please lmk what you thought of this story! ♡

also, how are you feeling about the comeback? so far i love it so much 😭

daisy., © moanz111

please do not modify, copy, repost, or translate.

[musings-of-a-rose]

Mistake

Pairing: Frankie Morales/Santi Garcia x f!reader

Word Count: 3000+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: Angst galore. Thanks to @vanemando15 for being a beta and @mermaidxatxheart for bouncing ideas around!

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Frankie Morales Masterlist

Santiago Garcia Masterlist

It's bright. Why is it so bright in here? Blinking my eyes open, I'm met with the light streaming in through the curtains, shining across my face. 

And then the headache slams into me. 

Groaning, I grab my head, my fingers kneading into my temples, willing the pain to go away without having to move. I drank way too much last night and I'm certainly paying for it now. Nausea starts to set in, churning my stomach slightly as if it's preparing me for a lengthy bathroom session later. It's when I reach for my stomach that I realize I'm not wearing any clothes. A peek under the covers reveals that I'm completely naked. Well, at least I got comfortable before bed?

I play the events of last night in my head. Having the same best friends as your fiancé has its perks, but when they're all former soldiers, you definitely have to work to keep up with their drinking, especially with us being in Vegas. Our Bachelor  and Bachelorette parties were combined, all of us simply hanging out in each other's rooms and basically drinking, playing the occasional game. I vaguely remember Santi telling me, somewhere between my 6th and 9th drink, that this was why he added a day between the party and our actual wedding. He knew we'd need to recover and he was right. 

If you had told me 5 years ago that I would be engaged to Santiago Garcia, I would have laughed in your face. Not that he's a terrible person, but he's not the kind of guy I usually fall for. He's impulsive, hard headed, and a giant flirt, which is why it took me so long to realize he was serious when he asked me out. I'm honestly surprised I'd said yes, considering the amount of women I'd seen run through his home, some of them throwing things at him as they left. 

I remember the first time I saw that happen. Frankie chuckled and shook his head, saying that's just how Santi is. Frankie is the one of the group I'd bonded to the fastest, quickly becoming best friends and remaining so, despite my desire to be more. But life had other plans, giving Frankie a baby from a girl he barely knew. And though they gave it their best shot, it didn't end well. 

But then Santi swooped in and somehow, we fell for each other. And now we're getting married, which is something I never thought he'd agree to. 

I roll onto my side, headache following me and I see a toned, tanned arm sticking out from the between the sheets. I reach out, my fingers brushing his skin as I smile, a handful of flashes of the night before dancing in my head. Santi is an amazing lover, always responding to my every need and desire with fervor. Something feels different about the memories, though I can't quite put my finger on it. 

Rolling to my other side, I groan, swallowing down the churning feeling in my stomach. Soft skin, and that same arm wraps around me, calloused fingers gently rubbing my stomach, a sleepy attempt to help quell my quesiness. 

"Santi."

I feel Santi scoot up behind me, his body molding to mine as he pushes his nose to the side of my neck, nuzzling into it. 

His hand skates sleepily down my body, gently rubbing circles between my thighs in an effort to make me feel better. My pulse quickens, my breaths coming quicker as he continues to work me open. A nip to my shoulder sends warmth between my legs and my breath hitches. I bring my hand up, reaching behind Santi's head to grip his curls. Except, I'm not met with the tight, short curls of my fiance. These ones are longer, softer, more flipping out before becoming actual curls. My brain is rapidly waking, pushing past the hangover to process what was happening, who was happening. A small moan from him and my brain finally clicks it all into place. 

Frankie.

I grab his hand and toss it from me, yanking my body forward to create as much space as I can considering I'm pinned under the sheets. He protests, his hands still reaching for me. 

"Frankie?" I question, hoping to anything that I was wrong. 

"Mmm?" 

Shit. 

"FRANKIE." I'm more firm, scrambling to disentangle myself from the sheets that now feel like a prison. 

"Come back to bed. You weren't finish-"

"Frankie."

His body stills as my voice finally seems to permeate his sleepy, hungover state. He sits up quickly, hand flying to his head as he blinks, swearing under his breath as his head pounds. He whispers my name and I can hear the desperation behind it, hope that he's hearing things and didn't sleep with his best friend's fiancé.

"It's me."

His large hands run down his face, rubbing at his eyes before he finally looks at me, regret pouring out from behind his deep brown eyes. 

"I- what..did we…" He stutters, already knowing the answer to the questions he's trying to ask. 

"I..I think so." Tears well up in my eyes, my voice cracking as the weight of what had most likely transpired comes crashing down on me.

On us. 

"Shit….SHIT!" Frankie yells, slamming his fist down on the bed. "What the fuck happened?"

I clutch the sheet, holding it up to my neck as the tears start to fall. "All I remember is drinking way too much and I think you offered to take me back to the room? Santi… I don't know what happened to him. But Frankie, what..what do we do?"

"I don't fucking know, do I? Shit, this is bad. I mean not that I haven't thought about… but that's not the point…wait. Are we sure we even really…"

"You had half your hand inside me just a few minutes ago, Frankie. Safe to assume we did."

Frankie is silent a moment. "Unless you thought I was Santi?"

"Does it even matter?"

An uncomfortable silence falls between us, so much left unsaid whether from fear or self preservation, I don't know. 

"Don't look."

Frankie glances over at me. "Why not?"

"I'm getting out of the sheets. Turn around."

"Haven't I seen it all?"

"Do you remember?"

"Fair point." Frankie turns his head and shifts his body away from me, attempting to give me some semblance of dignity. Whatever is left of that anyway. 

I extricate myself from the sheets, reaching down to grab my clothes off the floor. Which is when I see a certificate on the table. Pulling my dress over my head, I walk to the table, picking up the paper and scanning it, my eyes growing wider with every word. 

"Fuck…fuck!"

"Did I mess up your clothes?" Frankie asks. 

I wish that was our problem. 

Grabbing the paper, I walk around the bed and stand in front of him, shoving the paper towards him. Frankie blinks up at me and takes the paper, slowly turning it around to read it. His eyes grow wide and he stands abruptly, nearly knocking me on my ass. 

"WE GOT MARRIED??"

"I don't remember!"

"Fucking hell, I… I don't remember either!" His eyes scan the paper again, looking for the butt of a joke and finding none. 

"May…maybe we can get it annulled?" I offer up. 

"Could we?"

I shrug. "They did on Friends."

He glances back down at the paper. "That's only half our problem."

"I'm supposed to get married tomorrow, Frankie. What the fuck am I supposed to say to Santi?"

He looks at me, regret oozing from him. "I don't fucking know, do I? I can't remember anything to even tell him, aside from waking up with a major hangover and my hand shoved between his finance's legs."

He stands angrily and I back up a few steps to give him space. But he misinterprets my reaction and his eyes narrow. 

"Do you think I'd hurt you?"

"What? No, I was giving you space."

He steps towards me and I step backwards, my own back bumping into the hotel wall. 

"I'd never hurt you. I've only ever wanted to love you and be with you but not…not like this."

"Like this?"

He gestures around. "Whatever the fuck happened." He takes a step towards me again and my breath catches in my throat. I'd given up on Frankie a while ago, trying to give him the space he would need for his daughter and his doomed relationship with her mother. 

His hand comes up, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers linger there, thumb rubbing into my cheek as his eyes find mine. 

"I don't want you to marry Santi." It's whispered, but he may as well have yelled his confession. 

"I..what are you saying?"

His finger traces my cheek as I hold my breath, my eyes locked onto his as I wait.

"I love-"

Knock, knock!

I jump, swatting his hand aside as I walk to the door, smoothing out my dress before I look in the peephole.

Santi. 

"Querida, you in there?"

I glance back at Frankie who is still standing where I left him, pants pulled on but still shirtless. He crosses his arms, biceps pulling with the effort and he nods once. 

Taking a deep breath, I crack open the door and see Santi standing there, smiling when his eyes meet mine.

"Querida you're alive!" He chuckles and takes a step forward. When I don't open the door wider, he stops, eyebrows coming together.

"Is everything ok?"

Tears fall, tracing wet paths down my cheeks. But before I can speak, Santi steps forward and reaches out, wiping them from my cheeks. 

"Querida, what's wrong? What happened?" He's not joking around - he knows this isn't the time. His eyes take in my face, raking down what's visible of my body to check for any injuries. 

Suddenly, I can't talk. "I…I…" 

Santi's voice lowers, nearly to a whisper. "Blink twice if there's someone in the room that will hurt you."

Determined not to blink, I stare back at him. His shoulders relax after several seconds and he lets out a breath of relief. 

"Querida-"

"I love you, Santi."

"I love you too, but what-"

I pull open the door the rest of the way, inviting him in. His eyes are on me as he steps in and I gently close the door behind him.

"Querida, what-"

Frankie had shuffled his feet and Santi turns around, immediately on alert for trouble. He relaxes when he sees Frankie, not taking in the situation.

"Hey, Cat. You're alive too I see?"

Frankie glances at me. "I survived the night."

Santi laughs. "Surprising. You had so much to drink. I'm nursing a mad hangover so I know you have…to…be…" Santi's speech slows, his brain making the connection between my tears and Frankie being shirtless in my room, the sheets all mussed up. Santi's eyes snap back to Frankie's after looking at the bed. 

"Oh, what the fuck man?" I can hear him holding back his anger, hoping that he's misreading the situation. 

When Frankie doesn't reply, the hope disappears from Santi's eyes, replaced by a hurt that pierces me straight through. 

"You were supposed to get her back safe!" Santi yells, stepping closer to Frankie. 

"I did! She's here isn't she?"

"She's here and fucked by you! I knew I shouldn't have trusted you with her. I fucking knew but I thought you were over that little crush you had-"

Frankie moves away from the wall and steps towards Santi, finger pointing at him angrily. "It was never a little crush and you fucking know that. And you went after her anyway!"

"You went and got some girl pregnant! It's not my fault you weren't there."

"But you made damn sure you were there after!"

"Someone had to take care of her!"

Frankie steps closer, glaring down at his friend. "You fucking took her from me!"

"You fucked my fiancé!"

They were in each other's faces now, just a step away from each other.

"You never cared for her! Only wanted her after I said I loved her!"

Santi's eyes flash red, his entire body shaking. I've never seen either of them this mad before. 

"I fucking love her, Frankie!"

"Love her so much that you sent her back to a hotel room with the guy who she's been in love with for years and who loves her back?"

WHAM!

Santi's fist collides with the side of Frankie's face, sending his head flying to the side, Frankie stumbling from the force of it. Santi takes advantage of Frankie's momentary distraction and lunges at him, fists flying and hitting their targets. Frankie rallies quickly, throwing his own punches, shoving Santi back, his head hitting the carpeted floor as Frankie climbs on top of him, fist raised and ready to slam into Santi. 

"STOP!" I yell, but he doesn't hear me. I lunge for him, shoving Frankie sideways off Santi onto the floor. He shakes his head and looks at me, anger flashing in his eyes. 

I turn back to Santi who was trying to sit up, blood gushing out of his nose and his right eye swelling quickly. I reach out to touch his face and he flinches, swatting my hand away. 

"Don't touch me." It's quiet, but his words echo around my head. 

"Santi, I-"

"Let me guess. You're sorry?"

"I am, but -"

"No buts. You slept with Frankie. My best friend."

"I didn't know-"

"Do you have any idea how much you're killing me?" His eyes are watering and not from punches. "I never thought I'd stay with anyone and then…there you were."

"I-"

"You pulled me from a dark space. One I never thought I'd be pulled out of. I fucking loved you, querida." Tears fall from his eyes now and my vision blurs with my own as I watch him.

"And now you've fucked my best friend. My best friend! You just-"

"She didn't know." Frankie hasn't moved from where I had shoved him to the ground, aside from sitting upright.

Santi looks at Frankie with digust. "Didn't know? Did she just fall naked into the bed then? Just an oops?"

"It's my fault."

"You wanna elaborate on that?"

Frankie takes a deep breath, his eyes heavy and weary as he glances at me before looking at Santi. "We were both drunk. Her more than me. I really only remember getting her up here, making sure she took off her shoes. I told her to change her clothes because she had throw up on them. The next thing I know, she's yelling at me to get up, shoving me away from her."

"That doesn't-"

"She kept calling me Santi."

Frankie looks at me, hurt in his eyes. "She thought I was you right up until she was fully awake."

"I thought you said you don't remember-"

"I'm getting flashes. She called me Santi."

"How is it your fault?" Santi asks. "It's not like you just let her-"

"I didn't stop her. She called me Santi and I didn't stop her. I should have…but I didn't."

He moves too fast for me, olive skin bunched into a fist collides with Frankie's face, sending him flying backwards. 

"Fuck you, Frankie." Santi struggles to his feet, his hand coming up to dab at his bleeding nose. I stand with him, hands moving to his face to inspect his injuries. He flinches at my touch, but his eyes find mine and I break. 

"I'm sorry." It's not enough but all I can choke out. 

His hands grip my wrists, bringing them away from his face. 

"I love you, querida. But I…I can't." He cries, tears falling silently as his heart breaks from the pain I put there. "I can't do this. I can't even look at Frankie, and you? You're the last person I thought would ever hurt me."

"Santi-"

He drops my wrists and heads towards the door, pausing at the table where the marriage certificate between Frankie and I lays. He stares at it for several long moments before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a wedding band, my wedding band, and sets it on the certificate. He doesn't say a word and he doesn't look back as he leaves the room, quietly closing the door behind him. 

The room is oppressive with its silence, despite not being alone in it. I feel like I'm suffocating, dying, like a part of me went with Santi and I knew I'd never see it again. 

"I'm sorry." Frankie quietly breaks the silence. 

"You're sorry?" I turn to face him. I know I am not innocent but what he just revealed makes me sick. "You knew I was calling out for Santi and you didn't stop me?"

"I-"

I wanna throw up, scream, throw things, something, anything to get away, crawl out of my own body. 

"I trusted you."

"I…lied."

"What?"

"I guess I didn't realize how much you actually love him. And how he loves you. And I wanted to give you a shot so I lied."

I take a step closer, anger radiating out from me. "Lied about what exactly?'

Frankie takes a deep breath. "You never called out his name. Not until this morning before we both were….aware."

"Then-"

"You called out my name. And I just…I couldn't resist. I'm so sorry. I'm a weak person I know. I was drunk and in love and…" He gestures randomly. 

"Get out."

"What?"

"Get out of my room."

I don't have to repeat myself. Frankie gets up off the floor, grabbing his shirt on the way out. He doesn't say anything but pauses to look back, regret and pain in his eyes. 

I don't blame Frankie. The more the day wears on the more I start to remember. I definitely started it, thinking it was Santi. When I realized it wasn't, I didn't stop. Just switched to the right name, my long love for Frankie winning out over drunk logic. 

And now I get to go back to an empty home, all because of someone's love for me that was not my fiance. 

>>Mistake Part 2>>

-------

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[little-peril-stories]

The Queen of Lies: The Mark of Thieves

Story Intro | Content Warnings | Mood Board | Vibey Song Lyrics | Ao3

Contents: blood/injury leftover from the previous chapter, angst bc I just can't help myself

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Word count: 3350 || Approx reading time: 14 mins

The Mark of Thieves

Teaser: As the rest of her body awakened, Bree turned over to face the man who had come to her rescue the night before. Who had bandaged her arm with shaking, unconfident, but staunchly determined fingers. Who she had kissed, and who had kissed her back. A man who had fallen asleep with his limbs draped over her, holding on with a tightness both impossibly gentle and impossibly fierce.

Honeycomb sunlight gushed through a warped glass window framed by haphazardly pulled curtains. The lacy panels must have been pristinely white at one time, but now they hung yellow in the morning sun, dust coating the finely woven, delicately patterned mesh. A pillow lay beneath Bree’s head, faintly musty but soft and downy nonetheless.

Throbbing pain pulsed up her arm beneath a clumsily tied bandage that, against all odds, had remained in place and unsoaked with new blood through the night.

For a moment, Bree could not recall why her arm hurt.

But there was another arm curled around her, someone else’s, warm and soft and solid.

 As the rest of her body awakened, Bree turned over to face the man who had come to her rescue the night before. Who had bandaged her arm with shaking, unconfident, but staunchly determined fingers. Who she had kissed, and who had kissed her back. A man who had fallen asleep with his limbs draped over her, holding on with a tightness both impossibly gentle and impossibly fierce.

He roused slightly when she moved, letting loose a quiet “Hmm?” Although he still seemed asleep, or at least just barely awake, the sound made her heart flutter with its near-childlike vulnerability.

Will.

Her fingertips tingled in memory of drawing over the table’s rough surface, of each clumsy, scrawling movement that had revealed the letters of his name. Will. He was Will, and she was Bree, and the story they were writing together seemed infinitely more remarkable than the separate, lonely ones through which they’d staggered before the threads of their lives entwined.

Perhaps she said something; perhaps she whispered his name or pressed closer against him than she intended. He opened his eyes.

In greeting, she said softly, “I feel like Alice, waking up in the looking glass world.”

Those sleep-misted eyes misted just a little more with confusion. “What’s that mean?” After a moment, he mumbled, “Your…friend…Alice?”

“No—no. Not Alice Wright.” Reluctant to giggle at his endearing literary ignorance, she merely said, “It means everything is different today than it was yesterday.”

“Yeah?” A smile, slow and still-sleepy, crossed his face. “How so?”

“Well,” she said, unable to resist smoothing down a shock of his hair that was nearly standing on end, “I had the strangest dream.”

“Mmm hmm?” For a moment, his eyes closed again, as if she could lull him back to sleep with the sound of her voice and the brush of her fingers through his hair. “What was it about?”

She pretended to think back. “I dreamt… I dreamt that a wicked man with lovely eyes and a bad attitude gave me a kiss.”

This description, into which she prided herself on having imbued both great hyperbole and great understatement, seemed to wake him up. “Wicked? Bad attitude?” He huffed. “I don’t know anyone like that.”

“What a pity,” said Bree. “It was rather nice, actually.”

He choked. “‘Rather nice’?”

“A shame it was only a dream.”

He sat up a little, leaned closer. “Want me to give you a kiss?”

“Well,” she said, “I suppose you could try.”

“You might like it.”

“Perhaps.”

Will brushed his lips against hers, hardly close enough to bring with it a hint of warmth.

“Hmm,” she said. “That was nice, but not as nice as…”

Closer he pressed against her, one hand coming to rest on her collarbone, his lips parting hers.

“Better,” she murmured. “But…”

He kissed her again, but did not stop at her lips, rather trailing down her neck, teasing as he went, the stubble along his jaw pricking into her skin and making her shiver.

She knew her face was deeply flushed when he looked up again. “Well?” he asked. “Was that rather nice?”

Unable to keep up the facade of apathy, she told him mock-sternly, “You’re far too good at that,” and he smirked.

“What? You don’t like it?”

“Hush,” she said. “I like it very much.”

For a moment, Bree imagined living the rest of her days like this—warm and safe, cocooned in the arms of someone whose kisses felt like more than chaste obligation.

“This isn’t a dream, though, is it?” Her voice drifted out breathier and quieter than she meant it to. “It’s real?”

His answer made her laugh. “It better be. If it’s not, who the hell have I been kissing?”

“You have no excuse for not knowing,” she chided. “You’ve known my name for weeks.” As she spoke, however, she faltered, wondering if she shouldn’t have made such a joke. Hadn’t she hidden her name from him once, too?

But he just shrugged his shoulders and grinned. “Who are you, again?”

“Will!” She reached out to flick him on his arm, only to wince as the cut stretched and pain flared over her skin. With a grimace, she drew back.

Just like that, the spell was broken. The vivid colours of the realm beyond the looking glass faded around them, dimming to the muted hues of the real world, and to the pains and fears that came with it.

The light in his eyes dulled, too, as his gaze fell upon her arm. “That hurt a lot?”

“No,” she said. “I just moved too quickly, that’s all. I…I forgot.”

But his worry didn’t dissipate. “If I ever see that bastard again, I’ll kill him.”

“No, you won’t.” She reached for his hand. “You’re not that kind of person.”

“He hurt you.”

“And I’m fine.”

He was quiet. Thinking, perhaps, or recalling the night before, his gaze distant now. “You know…” He spoke again quite suddenly. “I wouldn’t blame you. If you…if you wished you hadn’t.”

Bree blinked. “Hadn’t done what?”

“Helped me.” He swallowed. “I wouldn’t blame you. If you…if you regretted it. Wished you didn’t do it.”

“I am in the looking glass world,” she said incredulously. “You’re talking utter nonsense. Why on earth would I regret it?”

He glared pointedly at her bandaged arm. “Uh, everything?”

For a moment, impatience and a touch of hurt flared inside her, for how could he earnestly believe she might regret liberating him from Baden’s clutches? It guttered out, however, as quickly as it had come. Didn’t she, too, know the weight of constant fear, of splintering self-doubt? Hadn’t she spent far longer than a mere four years in the company of men, first her father and then Baden, who’d reminded her again and again that she was not good enough no matter what she did? Could she really blame him for feeling guilty the day after their mission to find his friends had landed her with a sliced-up arm?

“Do you think I’m doing this for a lark?” she asked, trying to keep her voice soft. “For a laugh? Why would I have stayed here if I didn’t want to?”

“You don’t want this kind of life.” He ran his fingers down the bandage, the pressure light enough that it did not sting. “You could have died last night.”

“I know.” She caught his hand again, lacing their fingers. This time, she would not let go. “As I could have the night we ran away. Or I could have been burned. Or hurt. Or arrested. But I did it anyway.” Her fingers wrapped more tightly around his. “I did it anyway. Because I wanted to. And I’m still here because I want to be. And I don’t regret it.”

He was silent. Bree watched his chest rise and fall, perhaps just a touch too fast, as if those cruel voices inside his head were still feeding him some wicked falsehood, insisting that the single cut on her arm, an injury which in the grand scheme of her entire life hurt far less than the ones inflicted by people who were supposed to have loved and protected her, must mean that she regretted ever laying eyes on him.

“Will.”

He looked at her, still worried—but listening.

“All my life,” she said quietly, “everyone else has told me what to wear and say and think and believe and do. And always, always, I did what I thought I was supposed to. I knew what Baden was like before I married him—” Will flinched, more darkness pouring into his stare at this confession. “I knew, and I married him anyway. Because my father had promised I would, and even though he was dead, I felt like I had to, and because…and also because I was so afraid that if I ran away, my life would be even worse.” She wiped away her burgeoning tears and wondered if she didn’t see an unexpected sheen in his eyes, too. “So I married a man I didn’t love, and I knew—no, I know he doesn’t love me, because if he did, he wouldn’t—he wouldn’t be how he is. And I’ll never know what would have happened if I had run away, and maybe—I guess it doesn’t even matter, because I didn’t. I stayed.”

“Bree…” His voice, too, was quiet. “I’m…”

Now that she had begun, however, it seemed she could not stop. “But then there was you.” The ache to be, somehow, even closer to him, to melt her body into his even more, burned—an impossible fancy upon which she could not act yet desperately wished she could. “And for the first time in my life, I did something that I wanted to do and that I thought was right. And even though last night was—it was so frightening, and I was—and well, my arm hurts, yes, but—I still don’t regret anything. Anything.” She leaned closer. The sunlight danced off his eyes, turning the green hue almost gold. “Every choice led me here. To you. And every one was my choice. I did it for myself—and I also did it for you, because I—because I—”

She stopped, and in wordless answer, Will laid his hand on her cheek, brushing away her tears that had fallen.

“So don’t you dare,” she whispered, “tell me what I do or don’t want. I want to be here. With all my heart. I’m where I’m supposed to be.”

He laughed, short and a little breathless, as she fell silent, the outpouring of emotion ceasing as quickly as it had begun. He pressed his lips against her hair.

When he pulled away, he was grinning.

“Well,” he murmured, “I don’t know what to say other than…uh… Yes, ma’am.” He kissed her again. “You’re the boss, princess. If you say it, then it’s true.”

***

How wonderfully absurd it was to be in Will’s home—the headquarters of Iustitia aecum. Oh, what Baden would give to know what she knew.

Bree found she no longer cared.

The house was small, only a touch larger, really, than the apartment where she’d been living when her father died in poverty and disgrace. Yet there was a coziness to each tiny room, a sense of home in each well-worn floorboard, hole-ridden curtain, and scratched-up surface, that had never pervaded any of the places she had lived before, save perhaps the fleeting and far-between moments when she was very young, nestled in her mother’s arms and far from the red-faced wrath of her father.

She thanked Will when he inspected and re-bandaged her arm with her with gentle, calloused fingers. Thanked him for how fastidiously he tried to care for the wound, even when he was not sure what to do. Told him about her parents, and the life she’d known before she was Mrs. Breanna Hatchett, the constable’s wife. About her mother and the awful way she’d died, from a cut on her finger even smaller than this one, and how by the time they’d realized what was making her so sick, it had been too late.

“You’re not going to die like that,” he told her firmly.

“How do you know?”

“Because. I won’t let you.” He ran his fingers over her palm. “I’m sorry about your ma.”

“It was years ago now,” she said, though her heart twinged in memory of the old grief.

“Your dad?” he asked. “Dead, too?”

“A few years later,” she said bitterly. “Not soon enough.” Will gritted his teeth at this; she needed to say no more about the man Silas Cooper had been.

He drifted toward the oven, where the fire had fallen and was close to burning out. “I was fourteen when my ma died. It was… Yeah. It was awful. She got sick.”

“I’m sorry,” said Bree softly. What an awful thing for the two of them to share.

With a shrug, he merely said, “Life’s hard. Always has been.” Through the distant sadness the topic had brought to his features, a lightness broke through. “When you got good people around you, it ends up not so bad.”

At these words, Bree’s gaze fell to the tattoo on his arm. It was beautiful, captivating in a way she would have never believed a gang’s sigil could be. When he was done adding to the fire and had settled by the window, gazing through the glass at the cloudy sky above, she joined him, unable to resist running her fingers over the ink. “What does it mean?”

He glanced down, catching her eye for a moment before she went back to inspecting the tattoo. “Iustitia aecum? I don’t know. Spider suggested it.”

“Spider?” Bree blinked, wondering who would name themselves after a creature with eight legs. “And…you have friends who can speak Latin?”

He burst into a laugh. “Well, one, I guess. She—Spider—learned some. Must’ve. We just trusted her, that she was giving us the right translation or whatever. Something about justice, I think.”

“Yes, justice, I knew,” Bree murmured. “Justice for…um…for men? I think. Something like that.”

Snorting, he said, “Men? I doubt she meant that. I hope I get to bust her balls about getting it wrong.”

Will’s words sank in belatedly, drawing her attention to one in particular. “She? You’ve got a woman in your group?”

“Yeah, and don’t tell her I said this, but we’d all be fucking lost without her.”

Once again, Bree found her idea of what his life had been like before they met being challenged to its core. “Really?”

“Mmm hmm. But I’ll be real mad if you tell her that.”

“I promise I won’t,” she said, laughing, though something shuddered a little inside her at the awe and esteem in his voice, behind the teasing quality to it. “If I ever get the chance to meet her.”

This other girl, this “Spider,” had he… Had they…

“But I really meant the picture,” she said quickly, pushing the question from her mind. “Does it mean anything?”

Will shifted his arm to peer down at the image inked onto his skin. “I mean…I’m sure the others could probably say it better.”

“I want to hear it from you.”

He took her hand, guiding her fingers to the letters I.A., tracing over them as he had when he revealed his name. “Justice for everyone. All folks, rich or poor.” He moved her hand to the tree and its swirling roots. Beneath Bree’s fingertips, the leaves seemed to come alive, unfurling in full health and bright colour through some magic born of their clasped hands. “Life and, uh, people, and the world we’re in. Growth and new beginnings.” Finally, he let her fingers trace the ring around the roots. “Everything, everyone, we’re all connected.”

Bree blinked back sudden tears. “It’s even more beautiful now that I know that.”

Studying her for a few long moments, Will smiled, and he pulled away without a word. Crossing over to the desk that had been tidy when they arrived and was now strewn with detritus, he rummaged around until he’d retrieved a pen.

When he turned to her again, he said simply, “Want one?”

“One…one what?”

He held up his arm, and Bree gaped at the tattoo he was showing off and suggesting she don.

“Not for real,” he said, laughing. “It’s just a pen. I don’t know how to do the real thing. All I know is that it hurts like a bitch.”

It seemed so absurd, so infantile, so downright silly to consider letting him draw in her arm. Like playing pretend. Like a little girl dressing up in her mother’s wedding dress. “Um…”

Something lifted its head inside her, a creature newly roused from dormancy that she had not known was there. It suddenly burned, more than she was, perhaps, comfortable admitting, with the desire to wear the Iustitia aecum tattoo.

“Yes,” she said, beaming, and she followed him across the room.

“Oh, by the way,” he said, snickering as he brandished the pen. “You’ve made a terrible mistake.”

“Why?”

“I’m an awful artist.”

Indeed, his skill at wielding the pen to draw a tree on her arm seemed at least about the same as his skill at handwriting, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to resent the crooked, hesitant lines. “It’s not that bad,” she said, deciding as he made it to the roots of the tree that it wasn’t as hideous as he had foretold. “I like it.”

“You’re too nice,” he said, but he was laughing, apparently unembarrassed. “The others made the picture. I did the coins, though.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh. Carved them.” He stuck his tongue out and fell silent as he concentrated on drawing the circle around the roots. Bree held back a giggle.

“There,” he said, blowing lightly on the drying ink, the coolness of his breath sending gooseflesh up Bree’s arm. “That’s as good as it’s gonna get.”

Bree felt inexplicably warm as she peered down at her tattoo, and no matter what he said, it was the most beautiful mark anyone had made on her skin in her entire life. “I think it’s perfect.” The lopsided circle, the few spots of smeared ink, the roots that ran into one another, the slightly distorted I. and A. She wouldn’t have wanted anything else. “Thank you.”

Looking down at her arms made Bree feel as if they belonged to someone else. On the one, a bandage, hiding a war wound dealt by a rival gang member while she was out at night doing IA business. In the other, the sign of criminals, of Iustitia aecum—as if she really were part of them now.

“It’s perfect,” she said again, touching her fingertips to the ink to see if it had dried. It had.

When she looked up, there he was, watching her with something that seemed almost like awe. “What?”

“Oh, you know,” he said, going red, “just thinking of how I was so fucking wrong about you at the start.”

She shrugged. “Well. You know better now.” Glancing sideways at him, she asked, “Do you remember calling me a whore? That was the first thing you ever said to me.”

Instead of looking guilty, Will burst into a laugh. “I did, didn’t I? I’m sorry.”

“You had better be.”

“Oh, yeah? What you gonna do about it if I’m not?”

Well. Now she was stuck, and he was giving her a look that was full of challenge—not just challenge but open flirtation, and what was she supposed to say back? “I’m going to…”

Higher went that obnoxious eyebrow. “Yeah?”

Laughing, knowing she had to be blushing, she gave him a playful push. “Stop teasing me.”

“Why?”

“Because…”

She couldn’t think of anything to say that, because she didn’t want him to stop teasing her, ever—didn’t want to envision a future where he wasn’t next to her to rib her and run his fingers over her skin and bandage her wounds and give her play-pretend tattoos and press his lips to hers.

So she kissed him instead, and he kissed her back, and although that wasn’t quite an answer to the question he had asked, it was answer enough.

Optionally, this scene continues on ao3 (this links to ao3). if you know what I mean (this links to a video).

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Taglist (please let me know if you’d like to be added/removed!)

@starlit-hopes-and-dreams

@clairelsonao3

@gala1981

@pleasestaywithmedarling

@kixngiggles

✨

[qwib]

Looking For VtM Players

Hey ho! Two of my players have recently put down their roles for the foreseeable future. They're sticking around as friends, but that means I'm looking for new players to add to my roster.

New Orleans by Night has been running for two and a half years and is entering its final arc. Interested? More details are under the read more.

Chronicle name: New Orleans by Night / The Dusk Club

Base system: V5

Any homebrews?: Many. V5 is basically unrecognizable save for the basic roll system.

Language: English

Preferred time/timezone: 6pm GMT+1 (Berlin) / 12pm EST (New York). We have players from both the US and Europe, so this is the time we stick to. Our sessions tend to run an average of 5 hours. Day of the week is subject to change depending on player needs.

Where: Discord, sessions held weekly in text. (Meaning sessions are scheduled weekly the same as they would be for a voice session, except everything takes place in text.)

General description of the chronicle: Current applications are for my Chronicle “New Orleans by Night”; but as that chronicle is nearing its end within the next year, we are exclusively looking for players that will also want to join us for our next upcoming chronicle, “The Dusk Club”. 

The Dusk Club: Led not by me but @cthylla-rlyeh, this Chronicle will start running after New Orleans is finished (roundabout a year from now). Cthylla has been a player of mine for almost 2 years now and is one of my best friends as well as an incredible Storyteller.

New Orleans by Night: Following the Beckoning, New Orleans is left in a power vacuum. Countless parties are vying to be on top. A Tremere Prince works hand in hand with the Second Inquisition to stay in power; an ancient Tzimisce considering herself Lilith reborn is sacrificing Thinbloods in droves in an attempt to awaken an Antediluvian she believes to be sleeping underneath the city. We are Anarchs, trying to create a world in which Kindred of all walks of life can live together in peace - but some nights, it’s hard to even catch our breaths.

This chronicle has been running for two and a half years and we are well into the story, but I have prepared a timeline document summarizing prior events. Feel free to ask for the document at any point in your application. Your character will receive all the XP the other characters have accumulated over past seasons.

Nothing interesting ever happens in Mosspoint. A sleepy little town by the sea, the most earth shattering news you heard in recent years was when it-girl Caroline Kyng cheated on her boyfriend. Meaningless gossip. 

But everything is about to change. What was supposed to be a nice evening out at a concert will turn into a massacre, thrusting you into a life you never would have believed possible, all while coming to terms with your own death… and what it means to be a Thinblood in this world.

All players will be playing Thinbloods in this Chronicle, but your sire’s Clan will affect your abilities, merits, and flaws. The daywalker merit will come free to all Coterie members. A primer document exploring Mosspoint exists.

Required experience level: Should have at least a general overview of the setting. Given how far we are into the chronicle, I would rather not be explaining the system to you.

How to apply: Simply send a message introducing yourself to either me or @cthylla-rlyeh

Anything more?: As a group made up entirely of queer people, we are exclusively looking for other queer people. 

We are extremely invested in these stories and our characters, and would love for you to bring the same level of enthusiasm to our table - we promise to welcome you with open arms. 

Our chronicles are filled with extremely triggering content. If you are sensitive to themes of sexual assault (kept off-screen, but discussed), body horror, gore, addiction, disability, self harm, suicide, and homophobia, our table is not for you. If you have any specific triggers, feel free to ask. 

We will not be jumping right into the chronicle with you. Rather, we will be holding multiple one shots with applicants to vet how we work together. The number of one shots we hold will depend on the number of applicants so we can give everyone a fair shot.

Ultimately, we will be looking for 1-3 new players.

[ask-nico-sdv]

Late nights and Midnight snacks!

AKA mod's attempt at writing fanfiction! No real content warnings, just some self indulgent fluffy shit that my sleep deprived brain cooked up. Words: 1136!

Tick, tock.

Tick, tock.

Tick, tock.

The clock on the nightstand seemed to glare at me with an annoyance only inanimate objects could have, the face reading 9:30 pm. Yoba, he had been gone for hours…

I knew as well as anyone how busy the small shop could get, between deliveries, appointments, paperwork, clientele work… But even then, he was almost always back home by 8, at the latest.

The lantern by the door was familiar in my hands as I tugged it off the hook, the soft noise enough to stir the fluffy mounds of our dogs on the couch. A quiet awouf came from the one dog that woke up enough to complain, Ammit making a rather sleepy attempt to climb over her two brothers. “It’s alright Ammit, I’m just checking on Neeks. I’ll be back, ‘kay?” That seemed to be enough to settle Ammit, and even though she settled back down while halfway on top of Cerbie, she did settle back down.

Luckily, the night hadn’t gotten too cold as I walked across the old farmland, and Nico left the porch light of the shop on. The battered sign swung and swayed with the summer breeze, the layers of paint catching the light from the porch like a scene from an old Noir film. 

‘In Memoriam Mortuary.’ 

The quiet sounds of folders shuffling and pen on paper came from the back office, as well as something quiet playing from the desk radio. It sounded like some sort of movie soundtrack, or maybe a videogame backing track. That dork… I couldn’t help but roll my eyes, even as the smile found its way onto my face.

“Hun… it’s past 9:30, you’ve been working for hours. You need to call it for the night, or you’ll never get any sleep.” 

He hummed to himself as he turned to face me, the slight creak of the spinning chair following the motion. And just as I knew it would, his expression changed instantly as he saw me. His cheeks dimpled in a smile, the corners of his baby-blues crinkled up, and if I could hear his internal monologue, I wouldn’t have been surprised if Cascada had started playing. 

“Sorry darlin’, I guess time just got away from me there. Have you eaten anything yet?” 

The wheels of the chair slid against the ground as he pushed himself towards me, his arms looping around me instinctively. His head tucked itself against my chest as he looked up towards me, clearly expecting an answer.

“Mhm, I had some of the leftovers in the fridge. Though it was around dinner time, so a few hours ago-” 

Well, that seemed to be enough to get him up and moving. 

“Nope, nope. That just means we both need to eat, which means it’s dinner time. Second dinner? Bonus dinner..?”

He was already looping his arm with mine as he stood, bracing against me for balance as his other hand pushed him up from the chair. The piles of paperwork had luckily been forgotten for the moment, or at the very least, pushed to the back burner of his mind. The back burner that never seemed to let go of anything, it seemed like. 

The walk back to the farmhouse seemed a lot shorter now that I wasn’t walking it alone, the quiet click of the key in the lock as satisfying as the day I first heard it. The next noise that came from the house was the sound of three very large dogs all climbing off the couch with the grace of a drunken deer, and the sound of something being knocked off the end-table by a wagging tail. 

“Down guys, four paws on the floor.” 

He tried, but that didn’t really work. Admittedly, it never worked and one of us always ended up having to nudge the dogs by their noses until they gave us enough room to walk without tripping over them. Get big dogs, they said. They’re good for security and helping around the house, they said. 

Though in reality, these guys were definitely good for cuddles, as they were more than willing to prove as soon as I sat back down on the couch. I barely had time to settle in before I was quite literally dog-piled, watching as Nico hung his jacket on the coathook by the door. Somehow I always managed to forget how much that jacket always hid, though admittedly, I wasn’t quite sure why. He regularly lifted and maneuvered hundreds of pounds just to keep the shop running, as well as handling all sorts of deliveries on his own. It must have been the combination of his jacket and chronic baby-face.

“Hun, what are you hungry for? Anything in particular?” Oh, right. Dinner 2.0. 

“Just whatever you feel like cooking, you know what I like.” He smiled at that, that same goofy smile that lit up his whole face. Even the dogs seemed to perk up at the sound of dinner plans, though that may have been because Nico always slipped them bits and pieces while he was cooking. All with the same excuse of ‘they’re good boys and girls!’, which he did have a point with. They really were good dogs. Even if they did squish me into the couch while he made his way to the kitchen, though I knew I wouldn’t be allowed to help with cooking anyway. Last time I tried to stir something for him, I ended up getting bopped in the hand with a spatula, which was enough warning for me. The kitchen was his space, and I got to enjoy the aftermath regardless.

Luckily, the aftermath of the cooking came pretty quickly. It was only a few minutes before I was pushing one of the dogs aside to make room for him, taking a bowl of what looked to be paella before I was pulled against his side. Oh, how the cuddlebug continued to strike. Not like I could ever complain, it was too comfy to even think about getting up or moving. The fireplace was lit and crackling, the paella was hot and filling, there were not one, not two, but three dogs lounging across the couch with us, the fireflies were just starting to rise up out of the bushes around the house… 

By the time I realized I was starting to fall asleep, I could already feel blankets being pulled up and over me on the couch, a pillow being tucked somewhat haphazardly behind my head. 

The bowl of paella had been set on the coffee table at some point, and even partly asleep I knew what the gentle press on my forehead was, the slight stickiness of chapstick enough to give it away.

“Good night darlin’, I love you.”

[zerokurokawa]

An excerpt from my fanfic that I'm currently writing on Wattpad: REVERSE | Tokyo Revengers

Amber, my mother, was a very laid back woman. She would often do spastic shit like cut all her hair off because it was bothering her while working in the ICU. Currently, she has a pixie cut. Standing at about five foot five, she was tougher than any woman I know. She would work herself to the bone one night and then get up the next day to go get a new tattoo added to her sleave. Amber was the definition grunge. To me, she looked like a Winona Ryder but with tattoos and a nose piercing. Don't get me wrong, she's a genius when it comes to the medical field, but it's like she loses her mind when she comes home and lacks common sense - like the bike incident.

She also gives me stupid ass nicknames.

"Sweetie pie," She hollered while walking in the front door, "Mom's home, come give me a hug, I've got some shit to tell you! You would not believe the night I had."

"Mom, its fucking 8am on a Saturday morning, why? Why must you do this to me?" I stumbled up from the couch and walked over to her. All of a sudden, panic came over me. I had forgotten that Baji, of all fucking people, was also asleep on the couch. We had a movie marathon late last night and fell asleep. Baji was at the other end with his face buried in the pillow. Thank God he had long hair. Now, if only he could stay unconscious long enough until my mother goes to bed.

"The ER was rough last night, a bunch of punk ass kids came in all busted up," My mom froze, staring at the edge of the couch. "Who is that?"

"Oh uh…." I stammered. "My friend stayed over last night."

"That does not look like Zoe and I know she's your only friend." She said, peeking around me.

"Throwing shots at me now, are we? At 8 in the fucking morning mom?" I yawned.

All of a sudden, I hear a sleepy, manly groan. Peeking out from the curtain of his black hair, Baji sat up and stared at my mom dead in the face, eyes still blurry with sleep. He has no idea what's going on and neither does my mother.

"Let me explain…" I tried to console my mother before she got pissed that I had a boy in the house.

"You're fifteen, Val. Why do you have a boy staying over?!" She gestured wildly, but quietly, at Baji.

Baji still has not moved. He just keeps staring. I'm either royally fucked, or my mom is going to be cool with it. You never know with Amber.

"Keisuke… this is my mom, Amber. Mom, this is Keisuke Baji." I stared back and forth between the two. "I tutor him at school and we became friends, FRIENDS, and we had a movie night. By the time the movie was over, we had both fallen asleep, ACCIDENTALLY."

I stared hard at my mother in her face, willing her to understand my meaning and to please not embarrass me; but oh she started.

"Keisukeeeeee! It's nice to meet you! I'm glad you've been taking special care of my special daughter. She likes to do dumb shit, she got it from her brother, Kaine. God rest his poor soul."

"Mom, Kaine is still alive…" I put my head in my hands as Baji stood up. He wasn't wearing a shirt, which made shit even worse.

"Well, for the time being at least." She said stoutly as she stared at a shirtless Baji.

Noticing my gestures to put his shirt back on, he grabbed it, said a quick "hello", and then ran off to the hallway bathroom as my mother's laughs followed behind him.

"No but seriously, what the hell, Valerie? You gotta boyfriend now?" She turned to me with a straight face.

"NO MOM, Jesus, he's just a friend of mine. I can't have guy friends?" I emphasized the friends part. I decided to go and start making breakfast for all of us considering this was going to be a very awkward and long morning. I was getting the dishes out when my mother speaks up.

"So this is the part were I need to give you the talk, huh?" I turned around and just looked at her.

"Mom, God, please… no." I begged.

"You're having boys stay over and I want to make sure you're being safe! I started at a young age and I wanted to make sure-" I cut her off.

"Mom, I'm a virgin and will stay a virgin for a long time." I looked at her with a fake smile, trying to get her to shut up before Baji came back from the bathroom.

I heard a cough coming from the hallway as Baji stepped out and leaned against the fridge.

"I apologize for my rude behavior, Mrs. Delrey. My name is Keisuke Baji and we accidentally fell asleep while watching movies last night. I'm used to sleeping in a cold apartment and got hot. I'm sorry." He calmly explained and stuck out his hand for my mother to shake. She smiled at him and nodded in response, shaking his hand and greeting him properly.

"It's nice to meet you, Keisuke. I'm Amber, Valerie's cool ass mother." She smirked while making that statement. "I'm not like a regular mom, I'm a cool mom." She also likes to make Mean Girls references.

It was true though, my mother was very cool. She was chill about a lot of things. I didn't have a curfew and she would let me drive around in her expensive BMW when she was home. She also wouldn't care that Zoe would come over and stay weeks at a time with me.

I finished cooking breakfast as my mom practically interrogated Baji. I sat the plates down passive aggressively as she asked him the infamous question:

"Are you in a gang?"

The silence was deafening.

[bluebearial]

Comfort Zone, Chapter 1

A loose little sequel to Contact Heal! You have a comfy morning with your giant plush friend.

Chapter 2 here!!

View the full thing on Docs here!!

Morning came quickly. Too quickly, you’d think, as you reluctantly pry yourself from your dreams. You weren’t sure exactly what you were dreaming of, but you had a feeling it was good. Oh well, brains are just ‘funny’ like that, you suppose. You really don’t want to get up though. Your bed just feels so good right now. You’d found the perfect spot, and you felt like you were well on your way to becoming part of the mattress itself.  Your blankets are so warm, and so heavy. Their weight seemed to reassure you, to beckon you back to sleep. Your eyes have trouble adjusting to the light, and you could barely keep your heavy, tired eyelids open. In fact, you’re pretty sure you doze off a few times. Eventually, you opt to at least try to get up, to make the first move in leaving your bed, but something stops you.

“Mmnmghnnh,” something mutters.

Something heavy weighs down on you. It takes a moment for you to realize that it isn’t just a blanket that you’re under. A big, soft arm is draped over your back and around your side. It gives you a slight tug, tightening its grip on you, as a paw brushes against your cheek. You also realize that you’re snuggled up against something big. Dense fur cushions part of your face as you’re pulled just that bit closer.

“Lupa…?” You venture as your brain groggily feels its way through the previous night’s events.

Lupa, your housemate for the better part of a year. She’s bigger than you, she’s a wolf, and she’s made entirely out of plastic, stuffing, and fabric. A spiked collar adorns her neck, sitting above a golden zipper handle. You didn’t exactly ask for this arrangement. Almost a year ago, you were just buying a cute toy for your desk. But… most of the time, you’re not complaining.

“Mm~mmm… Hhmm?” As you hear the rustle of the sheets and the groan of the mattress, you had hoped that she would be trying to get up, but you instead feel that lupine nose start to nuzzle and sniff through your hair, her chest pressing more and more against your back as she starts to roll onto you. You blush, especially when she lets out the most content little “Hhwrrff…~” that you’d ever heard.

“Lupa... Luuupaaaaa,” you groan as you start to sink into the mattress, pinned even more by your friend’s sheer mass. “We need to get up. It’s…” You… trail off. Gosh, what time is it actually? You really weren’t sure, but - you could already tell it was later than you’d prefer, judging from how bright your room was. From beneath your plushy friend, you catch a glimpse of the clock on your nightstand.

11:04 A.M.

Hm…

Hm.

HUH?

You jostle your friend as your head darts up in surprise. How did you miss all your alarms? How did you even manage to sleep for that long? You’re pretty sure it was midnight by the time you two had gone to sleep. Which means you’ve been sleeping for… 11 hours?? …Which also means that the day is already almost half over!

“Lupa.” You begin, with more urgency this time, “Lupa. You have to get off of me. Like. Now.” You grunt as you try to pull yourself out from beneath her.

But she doesn’t budge. It was something you’ve only really come to experience during situations like this, but Lupa is surprisingly heavy. You suppose that a nine-foot-tall wolf plush would be pretty heavy; and that’s not to mention the fact that she’s a bit on the chubby side. But she wasn’t exactly crushing you. You were just kind of… pinned down.

“Please?” You venture, a desperate edge creeping into your straining voice. To your absolute dismay, a sleepy growl is your only reply. “Lupa, I have to go to work. I’m already late. More than late – I’d be lucky if I don’t get written up for this.” Another growl. Your thoughts, sluggish and addled with sleep mere minutes ago, start to race as you think of what to do.

“Listen. I can go to the store on the way home. Y’know, the one on the corner? Bed, Bath & Before? I’ll get you those extra soft pillows. The ones you really like to chew on? With the memory foam?” Your elbow sinks into her chest as you try to wriggle out, earning a low whine from your friend, “C’mon,” you grunt as you wriggle some more, “It’ll be great. Right? You just really really need to get up like right now please--”

“Mmnmnisssndyy,” She murmurs simply. You stop.

“Wh--… What?”

“It’s. Suuundaaaaaay,” Lupa draws out her reply with a tired, almost frustrated groan. She speaks in a slow, deliberate way. “You don’t have work today.” Your cheeks start to burn as your struggle tapers off. How could you forget something like that?

“Oh,” is all you can find to say as your mind switches gears, “Um… Right. Well, I’d still like to--”

“Dummy.”

“—to get up. I don’t really like getting up this late— …What?” It took you a moment to catch it, but she totally just said something, right?

“Duuuu~mmyy.” She adds some emphasis as she repeats herself. Her head was still nicely and firmly placed on top of yours, so you could really feel her voice vibrate against your body. Being as big as she was meant that her voice always had a certain bass to it, especially when you were this close.

“I’m—I’m not a- dummy,” you retort, too dumbfounded to put up any more of an argument.

“Iiii dunno. You look pretty dumb to me,” you could just hear the sleepy grin in her voice. You pout.

“Yeah? I bet I’m smarter than you,” you say with a surprising petulance.

“So? I’m heavier than you.”                    

“I—Oh my god. Okay.” You pinch the bridge of your nose. She’s got you there. “Okay. You win. Now, can we please get up? I wanna, y’know, do something today. We can’t just lay in bed all day.”

…Even if doing just that sounded really, really nice right about now, especially now that you knew you didn’t have any real responsibilities. Lupa’s mighty paw grips your shoulder, and she gently rubs her thumb along your neck as she considers your words. Her fuzzy, warm fur was always so soothing - and those squishy, satin pads have a way of making it hard to do anything productive.

“Mmwwrrff… Fiii~ne,” she relents, “I need you to admit something, though.”

“Admit… what?” You caution.

“That you’re a dummy.”

“Lupa…” You groan, but she only presses more of her weight onto you. “O,okay!” You wheeze, “I’m a big dummy.”

“Hey. I’m the big one here.” Clearly. “But you’re onto somethin’. You’re not just any dummy.” You take in a deep, much-needed breath as she lifts herself from you. Rolling over, you look up towards her. That wolf puts on the cheesiest grin you’d ever seen, tail swaying mischievously as she narrows her gaze down at you.

“You’re my dummy.”

For the fourth time this morning, you groan.

As you slip out of bed, Lupa takes a moment to stretch. She takes up a feral position, arching her back and reaching forward with those long, thick forearms. She splays her stubby, mascot-like fingers as she pushes her paws as far as she can, letting out a lupine yawn, before flopping back onto the mattress with a ponderous fwump. She was never a morning wolf, but. Even for her, this was a pretty slow start.

“Why do we even have to get uuuup,” she mumbles, voice muffled as her head nestles into the sheets, “Can’t we just, like, I dunno, snuggle or somethin’…?”

“Well…” You genuinely consider it for a moment, “We… could, but, what’s wrong, girl? Did you sleep okay?”

“Mm. Yeah, I did,” she sits up, covering her mouth as she stifles another yawn, “Maybe a little too good.” At your confused look, she continues, “Guess I had a really comfy pillow.” Shooting you a look that stuns you for a moment.

“’S not my fault I’m so comfy,” You feign offense, “But come on. I think you’ll feel better after you freshen up a bit.”

“I feel fiiiine,” she reassures you, shaking herself off a bit. Her messy, blue mane whips behind her, looking much more disheveled than usual. Split ends and frayed strands shimmer in the morning sun. Her shoulders are sagging, her ears drooping down. Her one eye looks down at you, covered mostly by a dark grey lid. You sigh and stand up, moving to her side of the bed. You brush a set of dark blue locks to get a better look at her face. You never imagined that a plush could get bags beneath their eyes… You take her paw in your hands, using them both due to its size, and hold it up.

“Come on, Lu. I think we both kinda need this,” you say, running your thumbs through the fuzz along the back of her paw. You knew that if you gave it a squeeze, it had enough give for your fingers to sink in. “To be honest, I’ve been fighting a bit of a headache myself. Could you at least do it for me?”

“Mmmm… Fine,” Grabbing your hand, she stands, “But don’t call me ‘Lu’,” she spits.

“But why not? I think it’s cute,” you say innocently. She balks.

“I’m not supposed to be cute.”

“You were the other night,” It’s your turn to grin at her, and that grey faux fur bristles in response. She looks taken aback – her eye widening, teeth gritting, making a point of looking away. She looks a little more awake already!

“So. We were, uh, freshin’ up, right?”

“Oh! Of course. I’ll lead the way, Lu.”

“It’s Lupa.”

“Lulu.~”

She groans, but doesn’t offer any other reply. You weren’t sure if she was too tired to put up a fight, or if she might’ve been partial to that name. Maybe you’ll keep using it then.

It’s a short walk down the hall to the bathroom. This morning, however, it’s more of a trek. You don’t find it too difficult to put one foot in front of the other, though it’s taking you longer than usual to get where you need to be. Lupa, however, is having trouble. Her tail is dragging along the floor. The heavy, muffled thump, thump, thumps of her feet echo up and down the hall.

“We could still go back, y’know…” She mutters between yawns, “Your bed is soooo soft. It’s like me, but. But more of me. Y’know? I wonder how big I’d get if I ate your mattress…” She muses, her voice turning unnervingly thoughtful.

“No--… No. I’m not letting you eat my mattress, Lulu. …Can you even do that? It’s a little big, even for you.”

“Mmm… good point. What about your blanket? I could fit that, no problem.”

“I think you’re big enough as it is,” you say as you push open the bathroom door.

“Says you,” she huffs, ducking her head to fit under the doorframe, “I don’t think I’m big enough.”

You offer a noncommittal hum. A part of you didn’t exactly… disagree, but you figure she’s at about the limit of practicality. Any bigger, and she’d probably have trouble getting around through your house. More trouble than she already has, anyway. As you close the door behind her, you notice the way she has to bend her knees just to fit in this little room. The way her tail is pinned up against the wall behind her. The number of times that that tail has bowled you over is…

It’s more than zero at least.

“Can you sit for me?” You ask, retrieving a brush from the medicine cabinet. In reply, you hear a THUMP behind you. A look in the mirror shows that she’s doing her best impression of a dog. Hunched over, legs bent, rump on the ground, and paws positioned between her feet. In the space you have, you kneel next to her, putting the brush’s handle between your teeth as you take a careful look at her hair. You run your fingers through that blue thicket. It feels fine enough, though a bit dry perhaps. Taking the brush in your hand, you slowly run its bristles through. It catches on something immediately. Ugh, you knew it. Tangled.

“We’ll have to wetten your hair up a bit, Lupa,” you say, slightly disappointed in how long this might take. For your own hair, you usually take water from the sink to dampen it, but… Looking over at that small, narrow thing, you had a feeling your good friend’s head – and the mile of hair draped behind it – wouldn’t fit. Speaking of your friend, she winces a little.

“I… don’t really like gettin’ wet,” she says. “It makes me feel soggy,” she shudders.

“I know…” you muse with a sulk in your voice, “I can dry you off after, though.”

“You’re not gonna put me in the dryer again, are you?”

“I thought you liked the dryer! It makes you so warm, and your fur gets so soft…”

“Mmm… Yeah… Yeah, it does, doesn’t it?…” Her tail starts to wag. The way her voice softens like that just warms your heart. You decide to lean against her, resting your head against her arm for a moment.

“But don’t worry, I understand,” you continue, “You get pretty dizzy by the time you’re out, right? We’re just doing your hair today, so I thought we could use something else.” She lifts an ear, angling it towards you as she looks down in your direction. Gosh, her little mannerisms were just…

Ahem.

“I’m gonna need to take your collar off too, okay? We don’t want it getting wet.”

“I can do it myself, y’know,” she mutters. “Watch.” You give her a knowing look, but you stand up, opting to watch. Lupa reaches up to her collar, and you watch as she tries to manipulate it with her fat, stubby, soft, clawed, plush hands. She fumbles with the latch a few times, grumbling and growling as her fingers keep slipping. After about a minute, she gives up.

“…Alright. Fine. Just do it for me.” She crosses her arms with a pout. You roll your eyes, leaving the brush on the counter before you step back up to her. You reach up, and with a click!, you undo her collar. Her annoyed growl rumbles through your hands as you reach up to fluff up her neck. You then enter the shower. Angling yourself so that you’d only get a little wet once you turn it on, you beckon her inside. This absolute golem of yours carefully steps in, nearly bumping the curtain rod off its mount, and awkwardly sits next to you.

“…We need a bigger bathroom.”

“You need to stop eating so much.”

“Wolves get hungry! Maybe I should eat you instead.” She licks her lips, before baring her teeth at you. You just look at her. Then, you turn the shower on. In an instant, her hair is drenched, absolutely deflating any claim to smugness she could’ve possibly hoped to get. Her locks droop over her face, covering her eye completely and extinguishing her grin.

“…Hrrrff.” She mutters, blowing a few stray clumps away from her mouth. You shut the shower off, leading her out and back to the middle of the bathroom floor. Taking the brush once more, you start to run it through her hair again. You start slowly, expecting resistance, but you quicken your pace once you see how much easier it is. You slow down once you meet a tangle, but a gentle tug is enough to make short work of it. After a minute, you fall into a rhythm. At first, you brush near the ends – getting the easier part out of the way. Once the lower part of her hair was sufficiently cleared of any tangles, you move further and further up. You were soon at the top. Even though she was sitting down, her head was sitting higher than you’d’ve liked… But! No matter. You keep brushing away, taking your time, making sure that it was as soft and full as it could be. Looking at the brush briefly, you’re thankful that no strands came out. You aren’t sure if she could even grow hair to replace whatever she might lose…

“…Hey, Lupa?” You’d may as well ask. “Do you actually… uh, grow your hair?”

“I—Uh-- …Yeah?” she replies, confusion coloring her voice, “Of course??”

“But- how?” you continue, moving round to her front. “Aren’t you, like, a toy? Well, kinda?” She tilts her head. Even behind all that hair, you see her expression flatten. She pulls the corners of her mouth backward into a line.

“I’m like, magic, dude.”

“Well,” you shrug. It’s as good an answer as any. “Have you ever thought about getting a haircut?”

“Nah.”

“Not even a little?” You start to brush the locks in front of her face. You kinda like the way they obscure her eyes. It makes her look… gruff. Mysterious.

“Nope.”

“Aw,” you tilt your head, running her hair through your hands as you try your best to tidy it up, “Would you do it for me?”

“Uh—Well…” She idly scratches her cheek, angling her head away. Her tail begins to sway… “M-Maybe.”

You giggle. Once you brush the hair away from her eye, making sure to leave the other half of her face covered, you set the brush down again. You could feel Lupa’s gaze lock onto you as you move to the medicine cabinet again, reach in, and pull out a hairdryer. You plug it in and flick it on. Lupa gives you a wary look, ears at attention when she hears it whirr to life, but you motion with your hand to reassure her. Once that warm breeze hits her, she absolutely relaxes. You’ve never seen her so happy. A wide, genuine smile spreads across her face as you aim it at her, and she leans in towards it. Her fur flattens and billows beneath the breeze, and it begins to take on a subtle sheen as it dries out. You aim it at her face for a moment, before running it down her hair. You collect some of it in your hand, spreading it so you can really get under all that fluff. Her tail bats you a few times as it gleefully sways from side to side, betraying her joy even more. It really makes you smile to see her like this. You return to her face for a moment, then her shoulders to remove any leftover dampness. With another click, the hairdryer whirrs to a stop, and you run your hands along her neck.

“D’awww, you like that, huh?” You ask, digging your nails in to give her the scritches she so deserves. Her ears flop down again, her jaw slackening. Even her foot starts to thump against the floor.

“Wwrrfff…~ Y,Yeaaa~h.~ Thanks, babe…~”

You stop scratching. Her ears shoot back up to attention. You both stare at each other.

“’B-Babe’?” you repeat her. Her fur bristles.

“Lupa, did you just call me--”

“O-Oh!” She shouts, “Um! Wow! I just remembered something! It’s pretty late in the day, huh?” She stands up, bumping her head against the ceiling. “—Ow. You gotta eat breakfast, don’t’cha? We should like, totally get on that.” With another quiet “Ow,” she bumps her head on the doorframe as she hurries her way out. You’re left there, stunned as you hear her thump her way down the hall towards the kitchen.

“’Babe’…” you muse. Usually, Lupa would call you a dork, or a dweeb, or… something, even when she was feeling lovey. But, babe? You hug yourself, cheeks burning. Picking up the collar that she’d left on the floor, you chase her down the hall.

…Before stopping yourself. You’re damp, you still have a headache, and- oh wow, you smell funny. Maybe you should shower first.

[the-al-chemist]

Artemis Hexley: The Wilderness Years

Chapter 12: The Point of No Return

A/N: the final challenge of the Triwizard Cup is here. We all know that it’s not going to go well… Warnings: canon death, mentions of war and murder, angst, description of injury, language.

The curtains did little to block out the morning sunlight, though Artemis had been awake long before the sunrise. She turned one way and then the other before getting up with a sigh and walking across to the window that looked out on the still sleepy Hogsmeade street below her.

She had come to the Three Broomsticks the night before, having left Chester’s flat with a hurriedly packed rucksack full of her things and Fergus the cat within an hour of returning from their disastrous dinner. Rosmerta had seemed only a little surprised to see her, and had shown her up to her old room without asking her too many questions that she didn’t yet have answers to. Was it over for good? Was she upset? What was she going to do now?

At least one question she could almost answer. That evening the last challenge of the Triwizard Tournament would be taking place, and there were bound to be plenty of final preparations to make up at the castle. And the Weasleys were going to be there. If Artemis went soon, she might be able to catch them beforehand, she could fill Bill and Charlie in on what had happened and to hear their thoughts on the matter. 

She dressed herself and left Fergus asleep on her pillow to walk up to the school, which was filled with students rushing between their dormitories, the library, and the Great Hall. The hall was bustling with its usual breakfast crowd, and Artemis walked straight through it without stopping to talk to anyone, until she reached an antechamber leading off from the far corner, where a small group of witches and wizards were gathered. Among them were Mrs Weasley, who was talking to a wizard Artemis recognised as Amos Diggory - a colleague from the Ministry and father of Cedric - and Bill, who was leaning against a window and looking out at the grounds. Artemis made a beeline for him, and as he saw her, his face split into a wide and knowing smile.

“Wasn’t expecting to see you here so early,” said Bill. Artemis glowered at him, and his grin rapidly faded. “Is everything okay? What’s wrong?”

“What do you think is wrong, Bill?”

Bill’s eyes flicked towards Artemis’ left hand. Artemis sighed heavily and crossly, and he grimaced. 

“Did he ask…”

“Yes, he asked.”

“And did you say…”

“No,” said Artemis. “I said no.”

“Ah.” Bill nodded. “Well, shit.”

“Is that all you have to offer?” Artemis asked him impatiently. She looked around. “Where’s Charlie?”

“He’s had to work.”

“What?”

“Dragon-based emergency,” said Bill. “He had to get a last minute Portkey back to Romania.”

Artemis made a noise like a growl and raised her eyes skywards. “What is the point of him?”

“I’ve been asking myself that question since 1972, Artemis.” Bill’s lips twitched, but Artemis remained stony-faced and narrow-eyed. “So is it over between you two?”

“I think so. I can’t really see things going back to how they were before, so probably.”

“And how do you feel?”

“I dunno,” Artemis shrugged. “Mainly just annoyed.”

“About what?”

“That it was all a big waste of time. That I let him in and he still didn’t get it, or get me. That he didn’t even talk to me about it before springing it on me out of nowhere. That he asked other people for their permission first. That those people gave their permission, when it was none of their bloody business.”

She looked at Bill accusatively, and he sighed.

“Sorry, little one,” he said. “In my defence, he sprung that question on me out of nowhere too.”

“You could’ve said no. I mean, I did.”

“As was your prerogative.”

“What?”

“Well, he asked if he could ask you. It didn’t really matter whether I gave permission, because the final say was always going to be down to you, wasn’t it?”

Artemis sighed. Bill had a point. 

“Mum will be disappointed, though,” he continued. “She’s already picked out her hat.”

He chuckled, and as if on cue, Bill’s mother strode across the room with a smile so wide her cheeks must have hurt and her hands extended towards Artemis’ own.

“There she is!” Molly exclaimed. “Come here, I want to see…” 

Her voice tailed off as she looked at Artemis’ bare fingers, and her eyes widened. She cast a questioning glance up at her son.

“Mum, maybe just-”

“Oh, Artemis. Are you okay, dear?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Artemis told Molly, taking her left hand back and stuffing it in her pocket. “Really, it’s… I’ve got to get to work. Nice seeing you, anyway.”

“Artemis…”

“I said I’m fine, Bill.”

Both Bill and Molly looked at her with mingled concern and pity, and she made a conscious effort not to sigh or scream at them. Was this going to be how everyone looked at her now? 

Her dark mood quickly returning, Artemis made her way back out through the Great Hall, where the breakfast crowd was beginning to dwindle, and across the grounds in the direction of the Quidditch pitch, where Badeea’s labyrinth had been constructed from twenty-foot high hedges. A few of Artemis’ colleagues were milling around already, including Badeea herself, who frowned at her as she approached.

“Are you okay?” she asked, and Artemis shook her head.

“Can you ask me an easier question?” she replied. “Or just give me a job, something I can help you with.”

“Really, Artemis, if you’re stressed you don’t need to-”

“I want to be helpful. What can I do?”

Badeea sighed before gesturing to a large crate of immensely ugly creatures that somewhat resembled maggots or scorpions, only they were almost ten feet in length, were covered in a thick, armour-like hide, and had dark spiky parts at either end of their bodies.

“What the hell are those?”

“One of the obstacles,” said Badeea. “Hagrid bred them, he called them Blasting-End Shoots or something.”

“Why did he call them that?”

In answer to Artemis’ question, one of the creatures turned one of its ends - she couldn’t tell if it was the head or tail - towards them and with a loud bang, emitted a flurry of flames at the pair of them. Badeea extinguished the flames with a wave of her wand.

“That’s why,” she muttered darkly. “I’m meant to get them into the maze, but I’m not sure how. Once they’re in it’s just sorting out the Cup itself and briefing the professors on how to get to a champion if anyone needs help.”

Artemis rolled up her sleeves and pulled out her wand, and she and Badeea set to work. By the time they had managed to figure out a way to get Hagrid’s bizarre and ugly creatures to a space in the labyrinth, it was early afternoon, and they had both ascertained several burns on their arms and hands.

“You might need to get that looked at,” Artemis told Badeea, looking at a particularly nasty looking red mark on her forearm. “It looks painful. I can get the Cup into the maze for you while you’re at the Hospital Wing.”

“Are you sure?” Badeea asked, and Artemis nodded her head. “Thanks. I’ll meet you later to watch the challenge. Is Chester going to be sitting with us, or…”

“No.” Artemis hadn’t meant to answer Badeea’s question so forcefully. She sighed and shrugged. “He’s not coming. He had… a work thing. A law-based emergency.”

Having been given instructions from Badeea, Artemis set off to collect the Triwizard Cup, which she was to place in the very centre of the labyrinth, a task that was undeniably more important than dealing with Hagrid’s ugly creatures. However, it was also less dangerous, and far less distracting. For several hours Artemis had not thought of the previous night’s events, nor of Chester, or the fact that she still needed to go back to his flat and either attempt to smooth things over or collect the rest of her belongings and leave without returning. Without the loud bangs and flame bursts to keep her mind occupied, her thoughts had once more begun to circle and chase one another round the inside of her head. 

She was so caught up in her own private concerns that she did not notice that she was not alone until she heard someone clearing their throat behind her, and she turned to see the heavily scarred face of Tonks’ former mentor and now Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, Mad-Eye Moody.

“Sorry,” Artemis said. “I didn’t mean to be rude. I just didn’t know you were here, that’s all.”

“Thought not,” said Moody gruffly, and both his magical and non-magical eyes settled on her. “You seem distracted, girl.” 

“I am, I guess.”

“Personal issues?”

“Something like that,” Artemis shrugged, and Moody let out a harsh laugh.

“Can’t help you there. Look at me, do you think this is the face of someone who can help you with your personal life?” Said face twisted into a grin. “I can kill him for you, if you want.”

Now it was Artemis’ turn to laugh. “No, you’re okay.”

“Suit yourself. You look like you could use a strong drink, though. I’ve got some brandy in my office. You won’t have to drink from my flask.”

“I don’t…”

“Or you could try Madam Rosmerta’s? If you go now, you’ll be back in plenty of time for the challenge.” Moody raised his eyebrows as if he knew that Artemis would be sorely tempted by this suggestion. She glanced at the trophy she had been tasked with, and he rolled his non-magical eye, keeping the magical one fixed on her. “I can take that Cup for you, get it to where it needs to go.”

“I said I’d do it,” Artemis said. “It has to go in the middle of the maze, and there’s all the obstacles in the way, and you don’t know where they are.”

“What do you think the point of this is?” asked Moody, pointing to his magical eye. “And don’t you think me capable of facing a few obstacles? If anyone can get your trophy to the right place safely, it’s me.”

He was right, his magical eye did make him the the best person for the job. And Artemis really had ought to see Rosmerta. She had left the Three Broomsticks so early and without even telling her what she was doing. Ros was bound to be worried. So, Artemis handed Moody the Triwizard Cup and walked away, feeling his magical eye still on her back long after she should have been out of his sight.

Shortly before sunset, Artemis returned to the Quidditch pitch, where a thousand-strong crowd had filled the stands overlooking the maze. A brass band was playing a triumphant-sounding tune, and banners were being waved around the arena. She took a seat on one of the benches of the commentary box, next to Badeea.

“Ladies and gentleman,” announced the voice of Ludo Bagman from near the entrance of the maze, “the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament is about to begin!”

The four champions lined up ready to enter the labyrinth. Even from the distance, Artemis could make out the round glasses of Harry Potter and the bronze-coloured hair of Cedric Diggory, the hooked nose of Viktor Krum, and the pretty features of Fleur Delacour. If she had been closer, perhaps she might have been able to see how they were feeling. Nervous, she expected, or maybe excited, like the crowd around her, who were clapping so hard that birds were taking off into the sky from the branches of the Forbidden Forest’s nearest trees.

One by one, the champions entered the labyrinth and disappeared. Not a lot could be seen other than the tops of the hedges, spiraling and winding towards the centre of the maze like a spider’s web. Moody’s magical eye was on the labyrinth, and at intervals he muttered to Bagman, who announced what obstacle each champion was facing.

“Diggory has just taken on a Blast-Ended Skrewt and come off better in the fight. Sounds like the dragons were good practice after all!” he called out, and a cheer went up from an area of the stands where the crowd was decked in yellow and black. A few minutes later, he called out again: “And Potter takes on a Boggart, nicely done by-”

A high-pitched scream echoed through the air from deep within the maze, cutting Bagman off mid-sentence. The scream came again a second time, and he whispered something to Moody.

“Ah, it sounds like Miss Delacour of Beauxbatons has run into some trouble,” said Bagman, as two people on broomsticks flew over the top of the hedges towards the area of the maze where the girl’s screams had come from. “Assistance is on the way, but that does mean that there are only three champions remaining.”

Not long after the Beauxbatons champion had been retrieved from the maze, pale and shaken but clearly not too badly injured, a flurry of red sparks emerged over the tops of the hedges. Another champion was out of the running.

“It’s officially a two-hippogriff race now,” Bagman told the crowd, as an unconscious Viktor Krum was pulled out from the labyrinth, closer to the centre than Fleur Delacour. “All is left to play for between Potter and Diggory, but one thing is for certain: the winner of the Tournament will be from Hogwarts School!”

The two Hogwarts champions must have been close to the centre of the maze now. Artemis craned her neck, but it was pointless. She could not see anything at all. There was nothing to do but wait for one of them to reach the Cup and return victorious.

A minute passed, then ten, then twenty, and there was still no sign of either Potter or Diggory. The crowd was growing restless.

“Do you think something’s happened to them?” Badeea asked, frowning deeply. Artemis shook her head.

“No, Moody’s magical eye would see it if it had. He doesn’t look worried, everything must be fine.”

After another fifteen minutes passed, Artemis began to doubt her words. But Moody still did not look concerned; if anything, he looked almost triumphant. Surely that meant that one of the two Hogwarts champions had to be close to the centre?

Her deduction turned out to be correct, because not long after, something silver swirled into existence at the side of the maze: the Triwizard Cup, held by a scruffy-looking boy with round glasses. A roar went up from the crowd, but Artemis’ eyes were fixed on what else - or rather, who else - the boy held in his arms as he lay on the ground.

Beside Harry Potter, Cedric Diggory lay motionless, as if he were badly Stunned, or…

People were running towards the two champions, and as each one drew near, their faces fell, and looked horrified. A blood-curdling scream went up from the group of onlookers nearest the scene, and another, and another. 

Artemis felt herself grow cold. She wanted to look away, to close her eyes, to leave, but she could not. All she could do was look unwaveringly at the scene unfolding before her in disbelief and dread, her blood stinging her like ice as it moved through her veins.

The brass band had stopped playing, and the crowd had stopped cheering. Now the air was filled only with undulating wails of fear and misery and mourning, for the boy who had been pulled lifeless from the maze, for the life he should have still had left to lead, and for the joy that should have come from his return.

Chaos reigned in the hour that followed. No one knew what had happened in the maze, nor what should happen next. The school faculty and the ministry officials were panicked, and the rest of the crowd even more so. A group of teachers were attempting to wrangle the students and escort them back to their dormitories, while a team of witches and wizards from the Ministry were ordering everyone to stay put until more information had come to light. Meanwhile, several people rushed back to the castle, among them the Minister for Magic, Professor Dumbledore the headmaster, and Bill and Molly Weasley. 

Artemis decided to follow them. She left Badeea in the stands and fought her way through the throngs of spectators to get to the edge of the pitch and across to the path that led back across the grounds. By the time she managed to get to the castle, no one was to be found there. She frowned, wondering where everyone could have gone.

The answer came to her relatively quickly: of course, they would have taken the champions to the Hospital Wing, especially if one of them was badly injured or even...

She swallowed down a substance that tasted like bile. A part of her hoped that Cedric wasn’t really dead, but she knew in her heart that he had to be. She had seen his limp body and the reactions of the people around him. She had seen reactions like that before. That little boy she had known at school was now dead, and a selfish part of her sincerely hoped that it had not been at the mercy of one of the maze’s obstacles that she had helped to procure.

She arrived at the Hospital Wing just in time to see the door open, and a wizard with a long white beard and half-moon spectacles slipped through it. His elderly face seemed extraordinarily lined, more so than ever before.

“Professor Dumbledore,” said Artemis, and he regarded her with blue eyes that did not twinkle. Instead they looked tired and determined, both at once. “I was looking for Bill, is he in-”

“Young William and his family are busy, Miss Hexley,” Dumbledore told her, his voice firm yet gentle. “As we all shall soon be, I suspect.” 

“Right, yeah. Of course,” Artemis nodded. “Professor, what’s going on? Cedric, is he… Is he dead?”

“Yes.”

“How? Was it something in the maze?”

“Not precisely,” said Dumbledore. “Unfortunately, a great evil has occurred tonight. For a time, the two Hogwarts champions were transported out of the maze and away from Hogwarts entirely, and it was then that Cedric met his fate at the hands of a Death Eater.”

Artemis tried not to breathe a sigh of relief. It had not been her fault. The thought struck her, and immediately she began to feel almost as guilty as she would had she been responsible. 

“There has been a Death Eater disguised here for some time, and tonight he enacted a terrible plan. It was he who placed the Triwizard Cup in the maze after turning it into a Portkey-”

“What?” Artemis’ breath caught in her throat, her mind spinning with confusion and her guilt twisting like a knife in her back.

“- and orchestrated the challenge so that Harry Potter would be the first to reach it. Cedric was merely an innocent bystander, and the first victim of his actions, but there will be more,” Dumbledore continued. He fixed Artemis with a pointed look. “Miss Hexley, do you remember what we discussed shortly before you left school? What I told you would one day come to pass?”

At Dumbledore’s words, Artemis’ eyes widened, and she shook her head.

“You-Know-Who… Voldemort… He’s back?”

Dumbledore inclined his head. “He has returned, yes.” 

“So… Now what?”

“I am afraid that we are on the cusp of an incredibly trying and terrible time. From now on, we must all endeavour to remember what truly matters,” said Dumbledore. “As for more practical solutions, this is why I must now leave you. I must find the Minister for Magic so that we can discuss where to go from here.”

The headmaster nodded his farewell to Artemis, who watched him walk away, the sound of his feet treading and the hem of his cloak brushing over the flagstone floor echoing in her ears with his final words.

Where to go from here… Where was there to go from here? She had come in search of Bill, but he was busy, and so was Molly, and everyone else in the castle, because something bad had happened, and it had been her fault, and now… 

Before she was aware of what she was doing, her feet had started to carry her back towards the grounds, in the direction of the Quidditch pitch and the labyrinth, where the crowd was now dispersing, with Aurors having appeared at the scene to manage and interview the confused and concerned witnesses mingling around the edges of the pitch. She caught a glimpse of Badeea’s headscarf among them, and began to walk towards her friend, but stopped in her tracks when she saw that Badeea was talking to Chester, and pointing in the direction that Artemis had left by. He was looking for her, but she did not want to be found. Not by him, nor by anyone.

Artemis ducked behind the changing tents so that she was out of sight from the crowd. She could hear them behind her, the noise they made like the hum of bees, loud but strangely distant, the peculiar sort of low hum of activity that could have been peaceful, but she knew that was not the case. Nothing was peaceful, nor would it be so again. Everything had changed, the world had shifted, and now here she was, standing at the edge of it, alone and with no way of going back. 

She felt dizzy with a mixture of feelings, none of which she wanted to feel. It was too much. It was all too much, and every fibre of her being was telling her to run, to get away from it all; from the maze, the crowd, the castle, her own thoughts, everything.

Her eyes focused on a single broomstick resting against the canvas material of the changing tents, and everything in her periphery faded away. She reached out and took hold of the broom, feeling the polished wooden handle beneath her fingers, before swinging one leg over it and pushing off from the ground.

And then she flew away.

[lune-de-miel-au-paradis]

The old villa, rain of shooting stars and the old legend

Summary: A little backstory about Nina's secret special place in Naboo. A sweet little memory from her childhood.

Pairing: Darth Maul x OC Nina Cerasus

Warnings: Mention of abandonment, illness, anxiety

AN: This fic means a lot to me and I worked on it a lot. If you have any advice or comments, please share them with me kindly. I'm posting for the first time in years and I don't want nasty comments to discourage me from posting again. If you don't like it, please go to another blog. I did my best to translate it, so pls forgive me, English is not my first language. Please enjoy reading!

previous chapter

Everyone has places in their lives, usually not too far from home, where they find the much requisite peace and comfort when it becomes necessary to recharge a little, or when the waves are crashing over our heads, right? Well, there were a few such places in Nina's life as well, regarding appropriate situations that fit both the occasion and the mood. Such was, for example, the glass-domed upper floor of the observatory wing of the university library, if she wanted to immerse herself in the endless world of stars and the galaxy, or the library itself, where she could easily slip away from reality with the help of endless stories, and legends. 

Then there was the roof that belonged to her apartment in the almost completely empty building. All she had to do was climb out of the window and there was the park and the university, decorated with arcades and columns shrouded in darkness at night, the best sight for rethinking existential thoughts.

She could take advantage of the little light pollution and stare at the sky and the planet's moons, which looked much bigger and brighter from here than anywhere else in the city. Perhaps that is why the observatory was built nearby.

Usually, when she didn't have much time, she found the peace she needed here. 

But there was a place, special and secret. At least that's what she liked to believe. A small empire of her own that her mother gave her many, many moons ago on a sleepless summer night, during an exciting adventure together. She might have been seven years old at the time. There were only three people living in that small house, but at least they tried to push out the bitter, medicine-scented air of sadness with an act of love and the warmness of a truncated family. 

Grandma Eve-Lynn was already fast asleep, but Nina could not dream, she tossed and turned until the bed finally threw her out. Her mother was sitting in the kitchen. Nina remembers her sitting there, one leg pulled up on the chair, a mug resting on her knee, in it  the remnants of mint tea, which had cooled down a long time ago, painted the rim of the ceramic mug in a dark green shade. The holopad was on the table, Nina's mother was directing the touch screen with one hand, the other was supporting her sleepy head. Her hair was short, and the colorful scarf she had put on in the morning was now slightly to one side with a loose bow. She hummed a melody of some old song with amusement and the air smelled of cherry and jasmine. An expensive perfume from a far away place. Gift from a traitor person, to cover up a lie, or maybe it was a kind gesture? Who knows? That person no longer lived in Nina's memories. Perhaps, if such a thing exists, it would have remained in another timeline. The same man who taught her to play the piano, who opened her interest to the sky full of stars and wonders, or who built the best bunker during storms by making a huge mess of quilts and pillows.

In Nina's memory, the man already lived differently. Every single memory was rewritten retroactively, tainted with some kind of strange poison that gave them a darker filter and a bittersweet taste. Just like the memories, the poison of betrayal took its toll on Nina herself. Like her father Felix, the old Nina no longer existed, at least not in this timeline. Since then, it's as if every passing day has brought more and more darkness into her life, as if the universe decided that it would be a fun game to kick the little girl, in as many ways as possible. A kind of transformation began in her personality. She already saw the world differently. She saw adults as liars, doctors as frauds and hope as a children's fairy tale.

And about Felix: his name no longer meant 'father' or certainly not for her, it was shortened to many other adjectives that the girl had heard so far only from holofilms, such as 'liar', 'cheat', 'coward'. The first man in her life she loved was the person who represented to her the true meaning of these adjectives.

Nina didn't like to think about him, but she liked to see her mother like this, peaceful, absorbed in something and not tied to a sick bed.

"Why aren't you sleeping, little star?" the woman asked softly when she noticed the little girl peeking from behind the door frame.

"I can’t sleep. I'm not tired. And the super-duper sleeping count spell is wrong. It’s broken. It doesn't work, even though I tried to count all the loth wolves who howl to the stars like Grandma suggested."

"Looks like none of us are sleepy. It's time for a little adventure then!"

Nina loved it when her mom felt better, everything was happier and more colorful, almost magical. The evening stories were longer, making dinner together was also good fun, accompanied by music to which they sang together. At such times, her mother's eyes were filled with life and sparkled like the constellation Canis Minor on clear nights. Just like tonight.

They didn't change clothes, they just put on their shoes, the jacket over the pajamas and the portable telescope.

Nina looked up at her mother a little confused as they walked towards the lake. It wasn't far, it was a well-known path for a while, then it became unknown and exciting. Nina hasn't been out at the lake at night yet. It was completely different to see the landscape and the creatures at night. Millions of luminous insects fluttered their wings in flight, and even blue-glow fish glistened under the lake's water dark coloured mirror surface as they bathed in the moon. The white flowers bloomed at night, filling the air with an intoxicatingly sweet scent. It occurred to Nina that they are no longer on Naboo, but in an exotic, distant landscape, one of those places that are used to be told as evening fairy tales, or the stories told by the vendors in the market.

"Where are we going?" he asked as she held her mother's arm tighter.

She didn't like the fact that the leaves of the lush forest vegetation were caressing her arms, hair and face from everywhere. Seeing this, Nina's mother Holly put her on her back so that Nina was like a little human backpack. They went on laughing.

"You'll see, little star. Tonight we'll watch the shooting stars from a very special place."

They followed the unknown path, but soon, behind two huge rocks, a secret lake appeared in front of them. It was surrounded by forest and opposite the domed roof of the distant Theed’s Royal Palace and the three moons shone high on the mountaintops. And a small waterfall also filled the silence of nature with a gurgling sound, mixed with the soft sounds of nocturnal animals.

And there stood the house. It was big and -we should rather call it a villa-. It is two-storey, built of stone and carved brick. With tall split windows, some of them patterned with colored glass. The years had worn it down a lot, the glass was missing in several places, or it was just cracked and broken. The walls were covered with various creepers, with bright pink papery petals and white fluffy stamens with a sweet scent. The tower roof had holes in several places, and the tiles were mostly dislodged, so thin mold disfigured the corners of the rooms. The bottom of the upper terrace, decorated with arcades, rose above the columned circular terrace outside.

Statues and worn carvings decorated the house, most of them depicting a species of monster with a terrifying face. Nina was a little surprised, but her mother walked in through the old black wooden door, which was cracked and the paint had almost completely worn off.

But the best part was the glass domed roof, of course it was also holed, broken and dirty, but a wonderful light filtered through it and illuminated the space. Nina has always dreamed of a bedroom with such a roof view.

Inside, on the walls were paintings and pieces of mosaics, carved fireplaces, and old ornate furniture. Among the scraps of red and black patterned carpet and sofa fabric, golden threads glistened in the sunlight. Even the lamps were made of ornate wrought iron, with the remains of tiny candle stubs. The living room, which was oval, surrounded by windows, in the center of which stood an old piano covered, and on the wall a huge mirror, the rim of which was gray with dirt, but still nobly grandiose in its bronze frame.

"What is this place, mother?" Nina asked in amazement, running her tiny fingers over the stars painted on the wall. There was a layer of gray dust on her fingers from the movement, which she wiped on her pajamas, with a little frown.

"This is our perfect stargazing spot. And our secret little palace, my little star."

"I feel like a princess here." the little girl whispered to herself, and dreamily turned around a few times. Her mother took her by the hand and led her and started telling stories. "Officially, the place is not ours, at least according to local legends it belonged to a rich married couple. The husband was a warrior who came from a far away planet and had a huge business. He met the woman, and he fell in love with her at the light festival. From here, the maiden watched the lanterns flying into the sky, gracefully reaching for them and saving several from falling into the lake.

 The best view of the stars was from here and on the lanterns flying towards them.  They looked into each other's eyes and fell in love.

The men decided to build the villa as a wedding present for his beloved fiancee. The carvings tell the story of the culture of a distant planet. They are said to contain protective charms so that the house will always be blessed and hidden from those with bad intentions.

To protect the family while the husband is away." “Woow, he must have really loved his wife. But what happened to them, mother?

" Well, it's not known exactly, they didn't have a child. They were sad because of that, and tried everything. There are several stories floating around about what happened to them. Some people think that someone took revenge on them."

"But who? And why?"

Nina asked in  a high pitched voice, she felt some curiosity mixed with fear and a hint of excitement. She loved to listen to legends.

"There are those who believe that Magic itself came, because sorcery has a price. There are those who believe that the husband's old master attacked them because he wanted his warrior back. The legend says he loved his wife so much that he used all his power to save her. "

“ But how? And did he save her? What happened to him?”

Holly set up the telescope in the garden of the old house while telling the story. The leaves of the trees formed a frame around the sky, on the dark surface of which the stars just shone. She adjusted the right angle and called her little girl over. Standing on her toes, Nina looked into the telescope with one eye. "See that cluster of stars? Are there two bigger and brighter ones close together?"

"Yes. There they are!" Nina pointed her little finger to the sky.

"The myth says that the warrior placed his love in the sky and that's how one part of the constellation was made. All his magic went into this spell. But he knew that his beloved would be safe and he would see her every night. But this made his evil master so angry that he ended the life of the warrior. Then the old gods, the Maker, or the Force itself took pity on the lovers and placed the energy of the dying warrior next to his beloved up in the sky. This is how the constellation of lovers was formed, how we can see it now. This is the only place you can see it this brightly from the planet.

The two were together in the sky and adopted dozens of smaller stars, which pass by them every year and visit them in the form of a meteor shower. You can see this ... right, now!"

Nina's eyes widened, dozens of tiny plumes of light floated across the sky in front of the constellation. The swarm consisted of many tiny dust particles. Her father had taught her many moons ago that these meteors heat up and burn due to their high speed in the planet's atmosphere, they do not reach the surface. He said that the best time to observe them is from midnight to dawn, when they can be seen in the greatest numbers. Her father promised that they would watch together this year, but according to him, this was just another lie. But Nina didn't want to think about that, instead she embraced her mother with joy, who, unaware of the promise, still surprised her with this experience and the legend along with it. They came at the perfect moment. The comets left behind colorful plumes, green, pale blue, purple, even pink.

After that, she went out a lot with her mom for picnics and night stargazing at the lake and the old villa, until Holly became so weak that she was bedridden again.

When her mom's illness got worse and passed away months later, Nina hid here to sob and mourn. This was their common place, every time she came here it was like a warm hug, she relived the lovely moments and warm memories over and over again. This became the place of her secret study place, and she went there whenever something that pressed hard on her soul, or simply to feel something. She talked secretly to the stars, as if her mother could hear her, waiting for an answer, but she never got one. After a terrible day, she was filled with peace and strength here, which helped her to continue her life and pretend to be strong in front of her grandmother, and all the doctors. 

This was one of those days, so she decided it was time to look for the secret villa by the lake deep in the forest and seek out some peace. 

If not for peace, but for something else - more precisely, someone else - she certainly found it.

Mood board made by me, pictures are from Pinterest.

next chapter

Taglist: @stardustbee @hellhound5925 @cloneloverrrrr @the-chains-are-the-easy-part

Let me know if you want to be added 💖

[signedeclipse]

Omg I love your writing sm!!

Since I saw your requests open, could I request a matchup?

Preferably a male demon and/or demon slayer :)

I'm a 5'2" trans masc gremlin with short, side-shaven brown hair and eyes. I mostly dress in black, goth clothing and accessories (i.e., pentagram earrings, bird skull rings, chokers, etc.) but I have a hoodie collecting problem (I can think of at least a dozen I have lying around rn).

Since I have adhd, I'm very forgetful and have a bad habit of fidgeting when I'm under-stimulated and over-stimulated (they range from shaking my hands violently to scratching and biting myself, not too bad tho at most all it does is leave a few marks). I'm also introverted, preferring to keep to myself, only really talking when someone talks to me, but when I'm with people I'm comfortable with I'm pretty much the opposite, always talking and joking around and being an overall menace >:)

That said I'm always tired and can fall asleep anywhere (I'm also a huge night owl which might be part of the issue)

My love languages are words of affirmation, physical touch, and quality time since I'm really vocal about how much I adore my s/o, I'm kinda clingy and quite touch starved (i mean i collect plushies ffs), and whenever I'm out of energy, I enjoy just being in their presence, doing my own thing while I recharge.

Sorry if that was too much/not enough I never know how much to put in these things lol

Feel free to ignore this if you don't want to do it/can't think of anyone who'd fit my desc :)

Anyway, take care of yourself (drink some water, eat a snack, and take a nap/go to bed depending on what time you see this) and have a lovely day/night! ♡

You got…Sanemi!

Being polar opposites, Sanemi loves you because you bring the gentle personality he hides behind all the macho attitude. He gets frustrated as fuck about stupid things all the time, and you'll just chat to him while he beats up a punching bag till it breaks, not judging him once.

He's had people try to calm him down, try to interfere and change him, but he just wants someone who likes him now and not for what they want him to be, which you are great at.

In turn, he understands your habits of scratching at yourself aren't doing  a terrible amount of harm for how well it soothes you, so he won't try to stop you aside from trying to find something for you to do so you aren't so bored.

Sometimes he just offers his arm to you, and lets you trace all the scars he has left in his skin, or fidget with his hand.

Sanemi isn't very demanding, so he'll do whatever you feel like doing. He prefers to have you there with him while he trains, though, so he's gotten used to training somewhere next to a porch where you can hide in the shade/away from bad weather.

Makes fun of you for dressing so dark, because he thinks of you as very flowery and sweet. Might say its some kind of scare tactic since you couldn't hurt a fly, but otherwise he doesn't care much for how you chose to dress yourself; so long as you are comfortable and happy.

Your hair reminds him a lot of his younger brother, and your sleepy nature only makes you two more comparable, so he feels this need to protect you in ways he couldn't his brother.

Authors Note - My last matchup and you are very similar it's almost scary! But yes, please enjoy <3

[electrivolt]

@rockheadcd​ asked : The alarm on his phone is going off, as it usually would for the day. It starts early, and always has for the one person that really has carried a whole city on his shoulders, hadn't it? It would've been fine if it was being turned off, but alas.. Roark hasn't stirred one bit, pressed into linens as he's apt to be at this hour.

And beeping eventually gives up on its own, untouched. It'll go off again for another attempt, as one does. He's got to get up after all, and yet he won't. Upon closer inspection, he's certainly out cold, but he looks... off.

Someone ought to figure out what's wrong with him before he does get up for real.

There it is, one of those very few, unfortunate downsides of days spent in Oreburgh, the early hours at which his love has to get up and leave, and Volkner is the one left without much needed sleepy affection and waiting for Roark to finally come back and make up for the time lost. ( if roark didn’t just decide to leave one underground tunnel for another and forgot about the hour entirely until it was well into the night. )

Usually he’s at least good enough at ignoring the blaring alarm until Roark shuts it off, sometimes even managing to sleep through it, other times just managing to drift back to sleep quickly enough. Not today, though, not when it keeps going and going, until it finally goes quiet on its own, only to start up again in a few moments. There is no going back to sleep after this, a quiet groan as Volkner finally gets himself to sit up and rub his eyes to focus and look at his love, somehow still seemingly asleep despite the alarm being ready to go off for the third time, by now.

That... that isn’t right. He would never sleep through all of this, not with how hardwired he is to waking up so early and ready to get started.

“Roark...?” He’s just a little hesitant as he goes to gently shake his shoulder, a frown on his face when that doesn’t get any reaction. Something’s wrong, now he’s sure of it, fully awake and getting out of bed himself to first turn off the alarm for good, and then take a better look at his love. A hand pressed against his forehead, and Volkner’s concern turns into full worry— he’s not supposed to feel this hot to the touch.

( of course he would end up getting sick eventually, with how much he kept pushing himself... )

Well. No use trying to wake him up now, if anything he needs the rest even more desperately. Guess it’s time for Volkern to get to work, there’s no way he could simply roll over and go back to sleep knowing his love needs help this badly. ( and someone will have to make sure he doesn’t decide to be even more of an idiot when he wakes up and tries to push himself out of bed. ) And so, first things first, covers come off to let him breathe a little more, for now only leaving the lightest blanket they have on him until he can actually talk to him and figure out what else he needs. Then, reaching for the phone and informing some of his coworkers that the love of his life is an absolute idiot and will not be present for at least a couple of days. He needs to check what medicine they have available at the moment, get to cooking something that will settle right with him, figure out the care for all their ‘mons on his own... he can’t really keep a sigh to himself. Regardless, he’ll gladly do that and more if it means giving his love a break, as forced as it may be, alongside a chance at recovering well.

“You’re going to be the death of me, love...” and he leans in to leave a soft kiss on his cheek regardless, a hand gently brushing hair out of his face, before quietly calling over the now awake Luxray, his trainer’s commotion waking him too, apparently. ( he’ll have to apologize for that one later. )

“Hey, Lux— keep an eye on him, please? I need to get started on a few things and he needs to stay in bed.” And here they go—

[itsthegamemaster]

2. NOTHING'S GONNA STOP US NOW.

You know that popular saying about how a child is like the little version of their parents?! That's exactly the saying that followed me my whole life. In other circumstances I would feel as haunted as the Scooby Doo gang in an abandoned house, but this was different. My father's reputation in the Navy followed me since the first day of recruitment. It could be a blessing or a curse, depending on the way you would face it. I always look at the cup as half full; I treated the way I act as ambitious, brave and eloquent; I was fearless enough to do the most dangerous moves even during training and simulations, that's exactly what made the higher positions keep an eye on me from the beginning. This and the little incident that made my superior see my cup as totally empty, he was done for good.

*2 Days Before...*

The day started more ordinary than ever. The outside lights went in even tho the window shutter was, well, shut; the building engineer noises were at its maximum as usual, which always made half of the people there mad - the other half always so tired that just the loud alarm could wake them up. Even before 5AM you could hear some of the team guys running outside, this due to the fact they lost some bet at the pub the day before. This, if you ask me, is way worse than being punished by a superior - at least to me.

Getting ready wasn't that fight anymore, not as much as it was in my first year as a navy soldier. At that time I would always receive warnings about my bad posture and how messy I was. Sorry for this, but it sucked so much! But after almost 3 years, everything became easier, as far as possible. It hadn't taken longer than half an hour to finally be going downstairs to meet the others of the team. Breakfast was as fast as a lighting in the sky, but at least we had the privilege of it.

The way to where everyone - or at least most of them - was going was really peaceful, almost everyone was really quiet in the mornings; the nights of sleep weren't enough to recover the whole energy we spent throughout the day. Yet we were always awake in time - I mean, we had to. We didn't even dare to really talk in the corridors, the only thing anyone had the courage to say was "good morning" or any variant of this. We could say I was kinda late since I haven't met any of my group mates on the way, so when I arrived I still had to look for them or simply sit alone and wait until they found me.

The cafeteria was full of the most variety of faces, the youngers were the most sleepy - as expected -, while the olders looking always tired of everything. Me and my usual team were in the middle of this: not so young, so already used to the early hours of the day; and not so old, so we enjoyed being there, always excited for the next mission. We are normally a team of 6 during the practices, the last two months had been the same - it all changed from time to time, since the "enemies" would learn our vicious moves and strategies. But it was always the same 2 partners in every "mission". The training team set us all up in the first semester of the first year, hardly ever they changed their choices. That's how I met my best friend: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw. But how we met wasn't the interesting part, what we discovered after was: his dad and mine were best friends and, actually, partners in missions. And with this I also discovered that Brad hates my dad. Guess life isn't a strawberry, if you know what it means.

I had just sat down with one banana, half of a piece of bread and a cup of milk when someone finally arrived. - Your disposition surprises me, you're such an inspiration - I said to Bradley in a provocative way as he arrived from the worst-morning-run, all sweaty and heavy breathing. - Shut up... - he tried his best to answer after taking some air.

As you may have guessed, Brad was part of the guys who lost the bet. It was some billiard game the night before, and he almost won, but the other one was luckier.

- Ouch, that hurts! - I faked an offended reaction, smiling right after - Sit down, I'll pick your tray. - What a gentle girl - he teased as I made a little reverence while distancing myself from the table; I stopped for a moment just to warn him: - Don't you dare to eat any of my stuff. - He raised his hands in surrender, so I continued my way.

- Have you heard about the training today? - "Rabbit" asked me when we met at the food row, he was one of my teammates this month. I said that I had no idea. - They want us to reach Mach 1.5 in a 2x2 chase - "Hamlet", the other one of them, answered, stealing Rabbit's half apple. - These guys are freaks - I answered laughing. - Yeah - "Joystick" and "Alabama" joined the conversation -, and they want us to do that on an F-14. Mach 1.3 was already a dangerous speed if you consider the fact most of us were never trained as fast as 1.1. I risk to say just me and Bradley, between all of them, were the only ones to ever reach this velocity. Let's say we were the best, if you let me put my modesty aside.

As I explained this exact thing to Bradshaw he seemed as unbothered as me, the difference is that he doesn't think it's funny, unlike me. - Wait, doesn't this plane reach 2.something in speed? - he asked with his mouth full of bread. - 2.34, yes! - I came closer to him as I whispered - we can totally go faster than the 1.5 that is required. - Don't start with that, Mitchell. - Joystick, which is not as much of a fan of mine, slightly pushed me to the side, sitting between me and my friend. Madelaine "Joystick" Singer was a girl with a bad temper most of the time. I like to say the superiors put her in my team these months to test me. Or to punish me. Anyways, she hated me somehow, and I give it to the fact that she fell in love with Rooster at some point. What does it have to do with me? Exactly and absolutely nothing; not my fault we're best friends - or is it?! Well, fact is I was used to having girls falling for the mustache boy; as I heard from my dad, Bradley's father, Goose, was totally charming and could steal a girls heart just by playing the piano. Bradley was the same, I guess the genetics of the previous generation were really strong.

- You're the enemy today, aren't you? - I asked her, who nodded. - Good luck then, try not to blow away too much behind us. - With that I left the place, winking at Rooster saying I would see him later.

I went back to my room to pick my equipment, and to make sure everything was in order; in less than 15 minutes we would be listening to the instructions about this mission. My keys were in the door lock, letting my plane keychain fall in the air; my father had one exactly like this one, he gave me this the last time we saw each other more than a year before, on Christmas. We haven't had so much time together since both of us had our own responsibilities. We would make what was possible to, at least, meet on holidays, but it wasn't achievable every time. I dare to say that, since my recruitment year, I spent more holidays with Rooster than with my own blood family. I think it was harder for him actually. Not having his parents with him, or anyone at all, he was always trying to fulfill his agenda with anything that could take him away from home and the memories that, sometimes, came back to haunt him. It was a relief to know that my father understood my reasons.

Across the door you could see a board above the wood table, full of week's reminders and tons of photos. There were photos of me and Rooster in the most diverse places; a couple of pictures of me and my father, some when I was younger and others more recent; there was also a photo of my grandma and my mom, which I don't remember very well, but still. The calendar marking every single test and practice we would have, just to make sure I was always ready. And here and there were also some theater tickets that I've got to watch with Rooster, like Hamilton on our only "expensive" vacation to New York. On a little photo frame was a photo of my father and Rooster's father, he didn't know I had that, but I liked to look at it sometimes when I felt lost or thought I was alone for too long. It was perfectly placed above some math and tactics books, everytime I had the chance I would stop to study for a couple of minutes. Even if it wasn't necessary, it's always good to know things. My bed was perfectly cleaned just as I learnt at the Naval Academy, as they said: "even our sheets could reflect on who we are". I took one more look at the bedroom before turning off the lights and closing the door. It was a weird feeling that I couldn't explain, all I knew is that something would change after this practice mission.

At this point the corridors were more vivid, just a breakfast and people could change their mood and disposition; not everyone had air practice today, but we all should be doing something, at least exercising or doing our "side tasks". I met Rooster and Hamlet at the main gate, so we could go to the practice field together. Hamlet wasn't going to fight against us, as well as Rabbit, but the two of them had to be there to observe everything and, later on, to go against Joystick and Alabama. After a not so short walk we finally got there. The instructor had everything prepared for us, the instructions of the mission had been passed the night before - putting aside the speed and the plane we were going to use -, so all we needed to know was already placed in our heads. We listened closely to every new instruction - and the boys were also right, we were going to have a 2vs2 race, in a F-14 in speed 1.5 - and just then we receive the permission to go, each one of us hopping in our planes.

- Do you think you can keep track of me? - I provoked Rooster through the radio as we were preparing to leave the base and start the practice. He was in the back seat since the F-14 was kinda old school and required two people on it. - It depends. You want to break the rules? - I knew he was smiling underneath the oxygen mask. - Do I ever follow them? - Alright you two, stick to the 1.5 and don't overdo it. Not this time. - Alabama caught our attention as he waved from his own plane. Joystick didn't say anything at all. - I'll try, promise - and with that we were ready to go in the air.

The mission was simple: All me and Bradshaw had to do was "fire" the target, which was Joystick and Alabama's planes. The only thing was that we had to wait a little so they would create a distance and the whole 1.5 speed would happen. - I bet Joystick wants you to go after her, and I'm not even talking about the lesson. - I provoked Rooster, knowing damn well that the other girl could also hear. - Shut up, Mitchell! - She replied, already sounding angry. - Oh no, no. You know that up here my name is Banshee, thank you very much. - Whatever... - Joystick, concentrate on the target. - Alabama averted as he signalized to us the race was ready to begin. - You'll be done in less than 5 minutes. - Rooster said, making me laugh.

*TIME SKIP*

- What were you two thinking?! - Captain Corner, a white headed man, questioned without stopping going round and round his room. Bradley and I were just there, standing, as we had to hear everything without saying something that could sound disrespectful. - I just wanted to show I could go faster, sir. - Like always, I was trying to explain my decisions without putting my best friend in the middle of the mess. - And not thinking the speed was enough you decided to buzz around the cockpit?! - at this point the Captain wasn't even trying to stay calm anymore. The idea of what I did made him get on his nerves; that was absurd to him, absurd and irresponsible. - I guess so, sir. - I replied in the most polite way I could. - It was rhetorical, Lt. Mitchell... God! I wanted to say I've never met a person as reckless as you. But I met your father, it scares me to see how similar you are to him. - he was now facing the big window with the plane's view. - Even nowadays... - he whispered the last part, letting out a loud sigh. After a long pause he turned to face us, in a fast yet calm way. - No, no. You two are trouble here... - he closed his eyes, massaging his temple as if preparing for what he was about to say - yet both of you are also the best of the best. Hearing this I let a small grin appear on my face, giving a side look to Bradley who was as static as a door. I was about to thank the old man in a way that wouldn't sound arrogant or something, but I realized it wasn't the time, that's when he continued: - That's why I'm sending you away from here. I'm sending you to the FWS, the Fighter Weapon School. Brad narrowed his eyebrows, trying to assimilate the information. - You mean... - You mean you are sending us to Top Gun? - I cut him off. It was hard to believe that in place of getting punished we were going to be in a class with some of the best pilots of the moment. - They gave a special mission that required the most skilled aviators. You leave in three hours. - Without saying more he left the room.

-What... - Bradley said but stopped himself, he didn't even know what to think. As we left the room I let out a relieved smile, I held his arm so he would stop to face me. - Hey, why are you so worried? Nothing's gonna stop us now, we're Top Gun! - I was excited to be honest, this was something that never crossed my mind, at least not this early and in these circumstances. Rooster finally relaxed and let out a little smile, nodding.

If I didn't know Captain Corner I would say he hated the fact that we were going. In parts, yes, it was true; but only the part that says we are heading to the one and only Top Gun. It was a mystery how the problems we caused - mostly me, to be exact - could lead us to the most prestigious and dreamed preparation course in the navy, but here we are. Captain and the others - especially the superiors - were actually relieved that there would be, finally, some peace at the academy. But the unpopular opinion was within our team, especially Rabbit and Hamlet; if these two could show their true feelings, I bet they would start crying in front of everyone as we headed to the airplane with our bags in hand. But, knowing them and the image they wanted to maintain, they gave nothing more than a handshake and a curtsy to both of us, which we gladly gave back, trying to keep the best smile we could fake. - How... why? - Hamlet asked as we parted from a hug. - We all knew my moves would take me away from here sooner or later. - I'm glad it was in a good way - said Alabama, resting his hand on one of my shoulders. - I knew your abilities would pay, I... hope to go on a mission with you someday. - Joystick extended her right hand for a handshake. I could see how hard it was for her to go against her big pride, but also could see how sincere she was being. Before taking her hand in mine I took out my bunch of keys from my pocket, looking for a brief moment at my airplane keychain. I gave her a thankful smile and passed my room keys through the handshake. - I know we're still not friends, but take care of that little baby, you can give me back someday. And there's also something for you there too. She smiled, with a little guilty aspect. - Look, I'm sorry for... - Don't say this - I cut her off -, we're even. Both sides bickered for years, I think it's a cool way to say goodbye. There are no resentments from my side, and I can see there's none from yours too. Her teary eyes said everything. I gave her a quick hug. - We're good. - I reassured her. - We have to go - Rooster interrupted us as he made his way to the airplane. I didn't want to leave everything behind, but it was time to let those years go.

Don't get me wrong, going to Top Gun, being considered the besties of the besties, was an honor; but saying goodbye to those who we spent every day with ain't that easy at all. We were still humans after all. As soon as we entered the airplane and took off, Bradley was already sleepy. But not me, and I made sure he would still be awake to see the sunset we could contemplate on the horizon. Like always, it was a special and pretty moment, just looking at the colors in the sky that blended so perfectly and naturally, like they were always meant to be. Sadly we had just a couple of minutes to admire it, but maybe that's the magical point of it: it didn't last forever, you had to stop everything to notice its grandiosity. After that, Rooster was finally gone, and I, well, tried my best to do the same.

*6 HOURS LATER*

It was already late when we finally arrived in California, still Bradley was in the mood to go to Penny's bar - which we actually knew very well, somehow -since he slept the whole flight, his energy was at top level. I took a nap or two, but it was never too long for my anxiety to leave me alone as we were in the air at such a low speed, this prevented me from relaxing. I think it's obvious that, for me, the velocity we can reach in the sky it's the best part about being a Navy pilot. Out there we could go anywhere we wanted, we were just as free as a bird - in this case a bird attached to a missile.

Where this man got this car I'll never understand, maybe it was from his family since, as I remember very well, they lived in the town for a period of time. He drove peacefully, enjoying the not so cold night wind blowing through his hand outside the window, as we sang every single song the radio station played. A couple of minutes later and we were already parking in front of the bar where, actually, there were a lot of people arriving as well.

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A/N: Sorry for the late updates, dear reader. I'll try to conceal my time in a way that I can post more often. Hope you enjoy anyways. See you next time ♡