#when barely anything sparks joy it is hard everything feels hard

[pucksandpower]

He Wins in Monza

Charles Leclerc x Norris!Reader

Summary: in which Charles wins his second home race, kisses you in front of thousands of people against his better judgement, and pisses off your brother (again) in that order

The roar of the crowd in Monza is a force of nature, a living thing that pulses with every heartbeat of the race. Charles can still feel it vibrating through his chest, even though the race is over and the engine’s been cut.

He won.

He won in Monza.

Despite starting fourth, despite all the odds — he’s done it.

He throws himself at his team, elation pouring out in yells and whoops as they crowd around him, slapping his helmet, hugging him like they never want to let go.

He doesn’t want to let go either.

This is what they’ve all worked so hard for, what they’ve poured countless hours and sleepless nights into, and here it is — the reward. The trophy is almost within his grasp, and for a moment, it’s all he can think about.

Until he sees you.

You’re standing just outside the McLaren huddle, clapping along as Lando reluctantly acknowledges the crowd from his P3 position. Charles sees it, the way your eyes shine as you watch your brother, but there’s something else there too — something that makes his chest tighten in a way that has nothing to do with the win.

You’re proud of Lando, sure, but when your gaze shifts and locks with his, it’s like the world stops spinning.

His breath catches. It’s the same look you gave him last night, when you whispered “good luck” in the dark, your fingers tracing the curve of his jaw like you were trying to memorize him. The same look you gave him when you first admitted that maybe, just maybe, you were falling for him. The same look you gave him every time he stole a glance at you during those secret moments, hidden away from the world.

It’s too much, too fast. He should be thinking about the podium, about the ceremony, about not giving anything away, but the way you’re looking at him — he forgets all of it.

Before he knows what he’s doing, Charles is pushing past his team, the thrill of victory still pumping through his veins. The only thing he can think about is getting to you, of pulling you into his arms and kissing you senseless in front of everyone because what does it matter anymore?

He won. You’re here. Everything else is just noise.

“Charles!” One of the engineers calls after him, but his voice is drowned out by the crowd. Charles is barely aware of the weight of his helmet in his hand, of the sweat still cooling on his skin. He’s aware of you, only you, and the way your eyes widen just a fraction as you realize what he’s about to do.

“Charles, don’t-” you start, your voice barely audible over the chaos, but it’s too late. He’s already there, his free hand finding yours like it was made to fit, and he’s tugging you forward, into him.

The world tilts, and suddenly, you’re chest-to-chest, his breath mingling with yours as he leans in. There’s a moment, just a split second, where everything hangs in the balance, where he could still pull back and save you both from the fallout.

But then your fingers tighten around his, and he’s gone, lost in the warmth of your mouth, in the softness of your lips that taste like everything he’s ever wanted.

The kiss is electric, a jolt of pure, unfiltered joy that sparks from his lips and spreads through his entire body. It’s the kind of kiss that makes time stop, that makes everything else fade into the background. The cheers, the cameras, the thousands of eyes on you — none of it matters. All that matters is the way you’re kissing him back, your hands slipping up to cup his face, holding him close like you’re afraid he might disappear.

When he finally pulls back, it’s only because he has to breathe, his forehead resting against yours as he tries to catch his breath. “I couldn’t wait,” he whispers, his voice rough with emotion. “I had to … I had to …”

You’re looking up at him with a mixture of disbelief and something else — something softer, warmer. “You’re an idiot,” you breathe, but there’s no heat in it, just affection, deep and unshakeable. “We’re supposed to be keeping this a secret, remember?”

“Can’t,” he says, shaking his head slightly, his nose brushing against yours. “Not when you’re looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m the only one in the world.”

You huff a laugh, but it’s shaky, like you’re holding something back. “Charles, you just won in Monza. You are the only one in the world right now.”

“No,” he says, his voice soft but certain. “No, that’s not it. That’s not it at all.”

Your eyes search his, and he knows you’re trying to figure out what he means, trying to understand why he threw caution to the wind. He doesn’t know how to explain it, doesn’t know how to put into words the way you make him feel. How you make everything else fade away, how you’re the only thing that matters in a world that’s constantly spinning out of control.

“Charles,” you start, but the sound of Lando’s voice cuts through the moment, sharp and incredulous.

“What the hell is this?”

Charles stiffens, his hand still wrapped around yours, and he turns to find Lando staring at the two of you like he’s just been slapped. There’s a mix of confusion and anger on his face, his eyes darting between you and Charles as he tries to make sense of what he’s seeing.

“Lando, I-” you begin, but Lando’s not having it.

“How long?” He demands, his voice tight with the effort of keeping it together. “How long has this been going on?”

Charles opens his mouth to answer, but you beat him to it, your voice steady even as your hand trembles slightly in his grip. “A few months,” you admit, and Charles can feel the weight of those words, the way they hang in the air between the three of you.

“A few months?” Lando repeats, incredulous. “And you didn’t think to tell me? Either of you?”

“Lando, I wanted to, I swear, but-”

“But what? You thought it’d be fun to keep me in the dark?” Lando’s voice rises, and Charles can see the hurt behind the anger, the betrayal that’s twisting his features. “You’re my sister. And you-” He turns on Charles, his eyes blazing. “You’re supposed to be my friend.”

“I am,” Charles says quickly, his voice earnest. “I am your friend, Lando. This … this wasn’t meant to hurt you.”

“Then what was it meant to do?” Lando shoots back, his frustration palpable. “Because right now, it feels a hell of a lot like betrayal.”

You flinch at the word, and Charles feels it like a punch to the gut. He takes a step forward, his free hand reaching out toward Lando. “Lando, listen-”

“No,” Lando snaps, stepping back out of reach. “I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear any of it.” He runs a hand through his hair, his chest heaving as he tries to get a grip on his emotions. “I just … I need a minute, okay? I need to think.”

There’s a moment of silence, thick with tension, and then Lando turns on his heel and walks away, leaving you and Charles standing there, the weight of what just happened settling in.

Charles squeezes your hand, his heart pounding. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, his voice raw. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“I know,” you interrupt, your voice soft but firm. “I know.” You turn to face him, your eyes searching his. “But we have to deal with this now. We can’t just … ignore it.”

He nods, the reality of the situation sinking in. The euphoria of the win is fading, replaced by the cold, hard truth. Lando knows. The secret’s out. And now, there’s no going back.

“What do we do?” Charles asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

You take a deep breath, your hand slipping out of his so you can cup his face, your touch grounding him in a way that nothing else can. “We talk to him,” you say, your voice steady despite everything. “We explain. And we hope he understands.”

Charles nods again, leaning into your touch, letting it soothe the anxiety that’s bubbling up inside him. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “Yeah, we’ll talk to him.”

You smile, but it’s tinged with sadness, and it breaks his heart a little. “This wasn’t how I wanted him to find out,” you admit, your thumb brushing against his cheekbone. “But we’ll get through it. We have to.”

Charles closes his eyes, letting the warmth of your touch chase away the cold fear that’s gripping him. “I love you,” he says, the words slipping out before he can stop them.

He feels you freeze for a moment, and his heart skips a beat as he realizes what he’s just said. But then your hand tightens on his face, and when he opens his eyes, you’re looking at him with a softness that makes his chest ache.

“I love you too,” you whisper, and it’s like everything else falls away, leaving just the two of you in this moment, in this space.

He leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead, his heart swelling with emotions he can’t quite name. When he pulls back, his eyes search yours, and he finds the strength he needs there — steady, unwavering.

“We’ll get through this,” you say again, your voice a quiet promise.

He nods, his heart settling back into a steady rhythm. “Together,” he whispers, a small, determined smile tugging at his lips.

You smile back, and in that moment, with the chaos of the world swirling around you, Charles knows one thing for certain: as long as he has you by his side, everything else will fall into place.

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

Chill - Felix

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The evening sky had settled into deep hues of lilac and orange as it snowed, the colors spilling through the large windows of your new boyfriend's apartment, painting the room with a quiet sparkle that felt like tangible magic.

You sat curled up on the couch, your knees tucked close to your chest as you held onto a well-worn book, though the words on the page blurred and melted together. Your mind wasn’t on the story at all - it wandered back to a time when you thought love was something to be feared, something fleeting that left more scars than joy.

The weight of that past, that heartbreak, still lingered in the quiet spaces of your mind. It wasn't always easy to shake, especially when you had given so much of yourself to someone who had carelessly discarded your heart. Something that needed to end. A horrendous love that you thought would be the end of everything. The catalyst to your hope of a future with a happy family and kids.

But that was before Felix - before the golden warmth of his presence gently and patiently coaxed you out of the coldness you had wrapped around yourself for protection.

You shifted slightly as you heard the soft padding of his footsteps behind you.

Felix.

He always moved like that, as if afraid to disrupt the peace he so carefully cultivated around you. It was one of the countless things you cherished about him - his gentleness, the way he made you feel seen and understood without having to explain every inch of the pain you carried.

"Hey," his voice was low, laced with that comforting Australian drawl that never failed to make you feel safe. He came over and sat beside you, close but not too close, giving you the space you needed, but letting you know he was there. Always there.

You set the book down, turning to face him, meeting his gaze. His brown eyes, deep and full of understanding, searched yours. You didn’t need to say anything for him to know what you were feeling. Felix had a way of reading your silences, of catching the unsaid things and holding them with the same tenderness he held you.

It's as if he knew you better than those who had known you their entire life. As if he had already spent an eternity with you.

"Rough day?" he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper, as if afraid to disturb the stillness of the moment.

You nodded, swallowing the lump that had formed in your throat. It had been one of those days where the weight of your past heartbreak pressed down on you harder than usual, making it difficult to breathe, to think. Even though you were here, with Felix, in a relationship that was steady, beautiful, and safe, some part of you still clung to the pain of what had been.

Sometimes quiet moments like this sparked you thinking of what you had once believed to be forever. And it filled you with a gnawing guilt - as if you were betraying the boy who had recently confessed his love.

Deep down you knew you weren't- you loved Felix.

It was just the fear of losing that loved that continuously brought up the scenario that showed you losing a love like this was possible.

"It’s hard sometimes," you finally whispered, your voice cracking just a little. "To forget. To let it go."

Felix’s expression softened, and without a word, he reached out and took your hand, his fingers weaving through yours, warm and steady. It was such a simple gesture, yet it grounded you, reminded you of where you were - of who you were with.

"I know," he murmured, bringing your intertwined hands up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. "But you don’t have to let it go all at once. It’s okay to feel this way. Healing takes time."

His thumb gently brushed over the back of your hand, soothing, reassuring. You could feel the tension that had been coiling inside you slowly begin to unravel like thread. Felix had that effect on you - he never pushed, never demanded more than you were ready to give. He simply loved you as you were, with all your flaws, scars, and fragile moments.

"Felix…" your voice trailed off, unsure of what you wanted to say. How could you explain the overwhelming gratitude you felt for him? For the way he had become your safe haven, your place of healing, after you had convinced yourself that love wasn’t meant for you? How could you put into words the way his love had seeped into the cracks of your broken heart, mending them with quiet patience?

"I’m here," he said softly, as if he understood everything without you having to say it. "I’m not going anywhere."

You smiled, a small but genuine one, and without a second thought, you scooted closer to him. He met your gaze, a soft question in his eyes, and you nodded.

Felix hesitated for only a second before shifting and curling up into your lap, his movements gentle as he rested his head against your thigh. His hair, soft and dyed golden, brushed against your skin as he nuzzled into you, finding the perfect spot where he could feel both comforted and comforting. He sighed quietly, the sound full of contentment, and it filled your chest with warmth.

You instinctively ran your fingers through his hair, combing through the silky strands as you marveled at how natural it felt to have him here like this. The intimacy of the moment, the way Felix tucked himself into you like he belonged there, eased the ache that had been lingering in your heart all day. With each soft stroke of your fingers through his hair, you could feel the weight of your past lifting, even if only a little.

"I love you." Felix murmured against your thigh; his voice muffled but full of sincerity. His fingers gently wrapped around your free hand, tracing small, absentminded patterns on your palm.

Tears stung your eyes at the tenderness of his words, at the quiet love he gave so effortlessly. It had been so long since you had felt this kind of love - a love that was gentle and patient, a love that didn’t demand anything of you but your presence. And with Felix, you had found it again.

In his presence, you found out that even a heart once broken could find its way to healing, and with him, you found the strength to believe in love again.

"I love you too," you whispered, your voice cracking just a little from the emotion swelling inside you. "I’m so lucky to have you."

Felix tilted his head up slightly, his cheek resting against your thigh as he smiled, a soft, boyish grin that made your heart flutter. "I’m the lucky one," he said, his voice quiet but firm, as if he truly believed it. "You’ve been through so much, but you still chose to let me in. Thank you."

You felt a tear slip down your cheek, and Felix noticed immediately, his expression softening. He reached up, brushing it away with the pad of his thumb before leaning up to press a gentle kiss to your hand. His lips lingered there for a moment, warm and comforting, before he settled back down, his head resting on your lap once more.

"You don’t have to be afraid anymore," he said softly, his words melting into the quiet of the room. "I’ll be here, every step of the way. We’ll heal together."

His words wrapped around you like a warm blanket, and you believed them.

Felix’s love was soft, unwavering, and exactly what you needed to start mending the pieces of yourself that had been shattered by your past.

You rested your hand on his cheek, gently stroking the soft skin there as he curled deeper into your lap. In the stillness of the moment, with Felix’s steady presence grounding you, you allowed yourself to breathe, to let go just a little more.

And as the evening light faded into the soft glow of twilight, you realized that in Felix’s arms, you had found something you hadn’t thought possible - the strength to believe in love once more.

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@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha

@iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric

@panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee

@shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin

@whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun

@ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael

@skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads

@jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld

@kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9

@minsungsthirdwheel @everlastingspring143 @joyofbebbanburg

@leezanetheofficial @tr-mha-fan @bubbly-moon

@night-storm7 @missmajdastark @axel-skz

[rustingcat]

"Mmm," Lena moaned, closing her eyes to enjoy the buttery creamy taste filling her taste buds with joy and delight. "This is amazing, Kara!"

"Thank you." Kara smiled proudly. She insisted on making Lena a special home cooked meal after Lena mentioned not eating one in ages. Saying that she deserves to be taken care of for once, and receive a meal specially made for her.

So after a long day at work, Kara surprised her with an invitation to her house and a special pasta dinner. She arrived to see the apartment lights dimmed and the well prepared table with two lit candles that made her heart hammer in her chest.

"You deserve it Lena." She added. "You've been working so hard lately, so really, anytime you want to be spoiled a bit just let me know, and I'll be more than happy to provide." Kara finished with a genuine smile. Lena really couldn't help but melt a little looking at that smile.

"You can't just say stuff like that, Kara. A girl might get used to it." She said with a sly smile. She kept her teasing light and casual, but felt a light blush creeping up her neck.

"Good, then do. You deserve to be happy Lena."

Lena tried to suppress the overflowing warm feeling in her chest. A task that had become a hundred times harder with Kara's choice of words and beautiful smile. She decided to just take another bite.

"Mmm." God it was so good. "Seriously Kara this is probably the best pasta I ever ate in my life. Will you marry me?" She joked as she took another bite full of Kara’s fantastic creamy shrimp pasta. She really couldn't remember the last time she enjoyed pasta this much, any dish really. Kara somehow made exactly what she needed.

Lena opened her eyes to find Kara staring at her with pure shock and a light blush. She wasn't sure how long Kara was staring. Lena was about to note it was a joke when–

"Yes." Kara breathed out. She heard no trace of cynicism in her voice.

Lena swallowed hard. Afraid she might reveal her hand if she said anything. It was her fault really, her and her stupid uncontrollable feelings.

"It was–" she started, standing up in the hopes to shake away the sudden anxiety that settled within her. Her half smile she forced faltered the moment she met Kara's gaze, losing any ability to deny her meaning. "Do you–" she stopped, leaning back on the kitchen island to ground herself. "Do you want to…?" She couldn't finish that sentence.

Kara nodded a few times as she slowly rose up from her chair, stepping closer to Lena. "Yes." She finally said, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

Lena's heart skyrocketed, hammering so fast in her chest she feared she might explode.

"Do you want to marry me?" Kara asked carefully, moving just outside of Lena's space.

Lena nodded, incapable of speech. Absolutely mesmerised by the sheer sincerity in Kara’s eyes.

Kara stepped forward, placing a hand on Lena's hips, her eyes asking for permission. Lena prayed to every god in existence that it was real, that despite everything that had happened in her life, Kara Danvers really just agreed to marry her. To actually marry her.

With a spark of bravery, or perhaps the fear that it was her only chance before the moment disappeared forever, Lena cupped Kara's face as she drew their lips together. She felt the burning rock of anxiety and fear within her slowly dwindle the more Kara kissed her back. Waves of cool relief washed away any last remaining of it in her mind, leaving her with only Kara and her gentle kisses.

They pulled away to finally breathe, staring deeply into each other's eyes. Their new fiancee's eyes?

"Is this real? Are we really doing this?" Lena asked in disbelief. She really hoped with all her heart it wasn't a dream or some kind of hyper realistic day dream she conjured in her mind. Even though it was the more plausible explanation at this point.

"If you want to?" Kara bit her lips, a hopeful smile playing on her lips.

"Yes." Lena finally felt brave enough to say.

Kara's smile grew wider than she thought was possible, before she dived in to steal another kiss.

"I can't believe it actually worked." Kara giggled with relief.

"I know, it– Wait what do you mean worked? What worked?" Lena studied her with suspicion. Where they not…?

"The pasta!" Kara said as if it was sufficient explanation.

"What?" If she was talking about the dish's quality, it was fairly well established by that point.

"I…" she averted her gaze to the floor as her cheeks flushed pink. "I saw this video on Facebook about – umm, about Propose To Me Pasta."

"Propose to me pasta? As in–?"

"Pasta that is so good that the person you're making it to would propose to you." Kara explained quickly. Averting her gaze as if she was a student caught cheating on a test. "Not that I thought it would work, or like, tried to manipulate you or anything. I just kind of… hoped? Or I don't know... " She trailed off.

Lena stared at her for a moment. Despite the ridiculousness of it all, she believed her. She believed Kara found this ridiculous video and had this ridiculous idea set in her mind that led to this not less ridiculous conclusion. An utterly ridiculous ludicrous plan that somehow worked.

"Oh my god, I'm marrying an idiot." Lena looked at her with disbelief.

"No take backs." Kara finally met her gaze. Her lips quivering in an attempt to hold back her giant grin.

And Lena couldn't help it anymore, she laughed. She laughed with shock, she laughed with relief, she laughed with joy, she laughed with love and she just laughed. She couldn't stop, and having Kara join her only made her laugh harder.

Holding her side, Lena finally managed to catch her breath. Although it took her a few more minutes to stop giggling every time she met Kara's eyes.

Lena kissed Kara again. Because she wanted to, because she wanted to let her know she still wanted to marry her, and because she simply could.

"I love you." Lena said as they parted, their foreheads touching. Both content and secured in each other’s space.

"I love you too." Kara smiled back.

"Will you marry me?" Lena asked, biting her bottom lip.

"You already asked." Kara said with a teasing grin.

"It was a shitty proposal." Lena rolled her eyes.

"Well, that's the one you got. I already accepted, so no redos." Kara shrugged.

"I hate you."

"No you don't."

"No I don't."

Lena felt her whole body tingled in warmth and excitement. Her body went through so many intense emotions in a very quick succession, that it was no surprise she was exhausted. Yet, simply existing in Kara’s orbit filled her with so much love, she felt her body re-energised with purified life force.

"What now?" Kara asked.

"Now," Lena smiled before pulling back from their little bubble, grasping Kara's hand as she led her back to the table. "We finish eating this amazing Propose To Me Pasta, then we're gonna wash the plates, then we're gonna prepare for bed and then – if you'd like – I can show you just how much I love you." Lena finished with a sly grin.

Kara swallowed hard before she spoke. "You better finish your pasta quickly before it gets too cold." She said plainly, although Lena could hear the anticipation in her voice.

"Don't rush a girl while she's eating her proposal pasta." Lena was delighted to find the pasta just as delicious as before. She might have to ask Kara to marry her a third time tonight. Who knows? The night was still young.

To send Kudos and get the pasta recipe, visit me on AO3 ;)

[bobbinfire]

Wicked/Transformers One Crossover

Okay Okay Okay…

I finally got to watch Wicked (pt 1) recently. And I do see where people on a few random posts have made crossover opportunities between Wicked and Transformers One, obviously placing D-16 as Elphaba and Orion Pax as Glinda. But here me out…what if we have a very different type of casting? To best explain, let me first-

Set the stage…. 

(*waves hands dramatically to cue magical transition*)

We start with D-16. All things considered, his life is perfect. Really. He always does everything right, he is at the top of the charts in anything he competes in, and now to solidify that reality D-16 will be attending Shiz, the top school in all of CybertrOz. He barely steps a foot into the school and is already the most popular mech around. Nothing can ever go wrong. Well, until he is startled by Orion Pax. Pax has a… unwelcome disfigurement (I will figure out that later) that sets him apart from the others. It is because of that, and totally not his shimmering blue crystal optics, D-16 finds he can’t stop looking at him. Luckily for D-16, Orion states he is not attending and is only here for his brother, so he won’t have to worry about ever seeing him again. Later, D-16 tries to approach Alpha Trion, the top professor and head of the sorcery department (conveniently what D-16 is studying). He ignores D-16 inquiries about potentially hosting a class for it this semester, even after bringing back up his paper on t-cogs and their transformative purposes for sorcery. But he is D-16, so he will just have to work hard like always and he will get into that class in no time. Then out of nowhere he notices a well meaning professor over-handling a handicapped bot named B-127 (either he can’t walk or can’t talk haven’t decided). Objects in the room fly because Orion Pax, who as it turns out is the older brother, freaks out. Alpha Trion calms the students down by claiming it was a stunt he performed on his own, but D-16 knows it was that increasingly more mysterious Pax. He tries to approach Alpha Trion about it, only to somehow accidentally volunteer to room with Pax?! For the first time in his life he is not listened to and he doesn't get his way. And it’s all Orion Pax’s fault. Oh and to top it off he is so talented with magic he’s now getting PRIVATE lessons from Alpha Trion. But D-16 will rise above it. He is D-16, so everything will be perfect in the end. Within the first few moments of rooming together though, both of them express their deepest undying feelings for each other: loathing. The two proceed to spend the next few weeks purposely getting on each other's nerves as much as possible. The rest of the student body seems to back D-16 up too. Why wouldn’t they? They are obviously his friends. Orion Pax is unbothered by it, and while he makes it clear how much he hates him, there is the smallest twinkle in his optics each time he pulls a stunt. And D-16 hates to admit it, but he gets the smallest joy from their squabble as well. Only the absolute minimum joy, of course. One day after a class with Professor Ravage (not D-16’s favorite professor, I mean really how hard is it to pronounce his name? It is a D and then 16. Not hard at all) D-16 begins to see Orion Pax in a new light after someone rudely vandalizes Professor Ravage’s board saying “beastformers should be seen and not heard”. Pax stays behind after class is dismissed and helps clean up. While it is not D-16’s job to help, he does feel a stab at his spark from the sadness of the situation. 

Oh well time to focus on other things because a royal is coming to attend classes at shiz! Princess Elita-One, a strong willed and goal oriented dreamer. While she can be a little intense and can list off all the codes of conduct at the drop of a hat, she knows how to really enjoy the moment (especially when it revolves around her). She is perfect, D-16 is perfect, so why not make the perfect situationship out of a perfectly timed impromptu dance party. As D-16 gets ready, his friends find an ugly old mask from his relatives that is meant for regal government parties but more looks like a battle mask that has gone through war. They claim it’s so ugly that there is only one bot who could wear it, and that is how D-16 finds himself giving it to Orion Pax claiming it will go with what he wears. He feels guilty about it but tries to dance away his feelings as the party begins. During the time of his life dancing with Elita-One, Alpha Trion approaches his saying he has been accepted into his class and hands over his training T-cog. A t-cog! An object that allows your body to transform and perform great visual and magical feats. Only the top ranking officials and the Prime himself have them. As D-16 tries it on and watches his future change before him both metaphorically and physically, he asks why now? Alpha Trion says he is doing it against his better judgment, but only because Orion Pax said he would quit otherwise. D-16 is about to ask why he would do that, only to realize not only did Orion see the mask as a kind gesture, but you ended up setting up B-127 with another bot for the dance tonight. Just then Orion Pax walks in, looking very unique with his worn mask covering his mouth. Realizing all too late that it was a prank, he begins this weird dance that has everyone staring. Elita points out how well he is reacting and that it’s almost like he doesn’t care. But D-16 knows that underneath that mask is all the hidden sadness that can be seen growing in Orion’s eyes. D-16 suddenly joins the dance, trying to make amends by damaging his own reputation. Instead the dance catches on and both rise in popularity. 

D-16 and Orion are now the best of friends and decide to have each other's backs no matter what. Orion ends up sharing a secret with D-16 about how he feels responsible for B-127 disability, all because their father didn’t want Bee to be born looking like Orion. D-16 reassures him and decides to help Orion by making him more popular. All you have to do is be as cool looking and awesome as Megatronus Prime. Orion is put off at first, but nonetheless their friendship grows. And it feels nice, the word “friends” rolling off of D-16’s glossa. He is popular so he has a ton of friends but…this one…feels genuine. Perhaps more. An odd thing he notices though is Elita-One and Orion Pax acting odd around each other after a particularly sad day of class. Professor Ravage was removed from class and the new professor decided to bring in a baby Dinobot in a cage. He didn’t remember falling asleep, but when D-16 came to Orion, Elita, and the baby Dinobot were gone. The two came back later and that is when they started acting weird.

It isn’t long before D-16 focuses on other things because Orion is going to visit the Prime in the Golden City! The entire class is there to wave goodbye, including Elita who shares another awkward moment with Pax. Clearly it is in regards to professor Ravage’s dismissal, so D tries to make a connection with them by changing his name, since Ravage couldn’t pronounce D-16 right, to Megatron (named after Megatronus Prime himself). His peers cheer his selfless act, but D-16 doesn’t feel better by it, and Elita and Orion seem still in their own little moment. That moment soon ends and Orion is off on the train to the Golden City. Then suddenly he is calling for D- Megatron to join him. Megatron is unsure whether he leapt or was dragged on by Orion but soon they are off to meet the Prime. 

Once there Megatron and Orion travel and see the sights. They party, tour, and Orion gets a special Megatronus sticker for Megatron. They even get a little convenient lore drop that explains how there once were great Primes that ruled over CybertrOz, then they passed away leaving the secrets of the all powerful Matrix to be left alone. Nobody was worthy to control it, until the day the Prime appeared. The two mull over that as they make their way to the Prime. The Prime himself is quite the show off. Sentinel Prime talks about his plans for the future of CybertrOz and that one day Orion will be a part of it, he just has to prove his worth. The next few moments flash by in a blur. Alpha Trion appears and leads the way to where they store the Matrix. The Matrix responds to Orion’s presence. But…something goes wrong. An unplanned outcome of a spell, a plan to use spies to capture the remaining talking beastformers, Orion running, Megatron running after Orion, guards chasing them. More chaos, more ruin, and then…and then, they are alone. Megatron scolds Orion for not filling the rules. What is happening to beastformers, while it does hurt Megatron’s spark, doesn’t affect them and therefore he can move past it. But Orion can’t and Megatron can see that. Orion brings an old jet pack back to life and gives Megatron the offer to leave with him. Megatron wants to…but he can’t. He can’t throw everything he’s worked for just for Orion. He notices Orion trembling so he searches for something to provide warmth. They’re in this old dusty tower though so there isn’t even a tarp to throw on the poor bot’s back. The only thing of warmth and worth is Megatron’s temporary t-cog. So he gives it to Orion, assuring him of his choice and wishing him well. Just then the guards break in and grab Megatron. Orion shouts to focus their attention on him before leaping out a window and falling towards an opening that leads to the depths of CybertrOz’s core. Right as he passes the barrier his jetpack launches him to the sky and he outflies several of the guards. He declares that nobody will bring him down before flying towards the vastness of the unknown surface singing like an Idina Menzel wannabe, everyone declaring he is wicked.

And that is only Act 1.

Hope you enjoyed my rambles. Originally I was gonna do a simple explanation and then I got too into it. I apologize for the horrid grammar.

(I have yet to see anything in regards to Act 2 and I would like to see Wicked Pt 2 as spoiler free as possible)

[silverameco]

War AU - @wolfstarmicrofic - 605 words

CW : implied sexual content (very very tame)

Back when the days were bright, and the smiles were real, and death was a foreign concept, he used to think that time would still during a war. That it would stop. Like a terrible bubble of hard times that would burst once everything was over.

But now, he knew it wasn't like that. Time didn't stop. It kept going, tirelessly, despite everything else. It felt like water flowing through his fingers. He always tried to hold on to it, but he never succeeded. The days went on and on and on and on. Over and over again. Even when each day felt the same, Remus could still feel the time passing. Because each day, the times when they were happy and in love and careless and everything was simple, all of it felt more and more like a faraway memory.

They were trying to keep living. But sometimes, Remus thought maybe they lost it. The spark. The little thing that made them so sure life was worth living. Everything was now surrounded by fear, death, suspicion. It was hard. Going on missions, risking their lives, watching their friends die, waiting to hear good news, but it was bad news more often than not. Remus sometimes feared they didn't even know why they were fighting anymore. Sometimes he also feared they didn't know how to love each other anymore. Just barely how to fear that the other would be snatched away at any moment.

However, somedays, Sirius was there to remind him what hope felt like. That day, he came home from a mission a bit later than he should have. Sirius was anxiously waiting for him. He felt bad for worrying him. But the blinding smile on his lover's face when he openned the door was unmatched. The raw joy and relief made his heart leaped. He couldn't tell who ran to the other, maybe they both did, but it was a matter of seconds before their lips met. Kissing Sirius was always amazing. But at that moment, it was something else entirely. Remus felt like they were sharing their fears, mixing them together to create love and hope.

Those were the good days. There weren't many of them, but they still existed. Because time didn't stop and neither did their undying love for each other. They always came back to this. No matter how unforgiving the war was, in the end they just needed a loving look or a brush of lips to remember how to be together, to crave the intimacy they built over the years.

On that particular good day, they kissed like they forgot how good it could feel. How perfect they were together. How they belonged with each other. Then it was the burning skin of Sirius, the glint in his eyes, the sweet sounds of his moans, the soft feeling of his body against his own, their shaky breaths. It was little things. It was everything. Because through it all, through their love that now felt foolish to doubt, Remus could almost forget the war raging outside their apartment. He could almost forget the nagging fear to lose this. This love, this life with Sirius, but also the love he had for their friends who were more his family than anything else.

But mostly, he could remember why he was fighting ; to not lose this. To get them all through this terrible war and come out safe on the other side. To get the chance to see the bright days and the real smiles again, to learn how to love carelessly again. To feel the spark again.

[thalanomus]

HIRAETH - Eyeless Jack x Reader: In Plain Sight (Chp 1)

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This chapter contains: descriptions of blood, mentions of multiple needles, mentions of a murder and other slightly disturbing content. 

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The soft chirping of birds fills the deafening silence, making you shift around from where you were leaning against the tree and opening your eyes ever so slowly. Weak sunbeams passing through the trees obstruct your vision, making your eyes wince more than what they already were. Everything is hazy. Your eyes and mind barely process anything as you force them wider, trying to move your body a bit to help ease the stiffness you created yourself from the uncomfortable position you fell asleep in. 

Finally gaining awareness of your surroundings, you took a deep breath and stretched your limbs, hearing a few pops and cracks come from them. Sighing out, you took note that you were still in woods. Your mind automatically went back to what happened last night and what you saw. A shiver ran down your spine as you recall the creature. You found it strange how you can't get the thing out of your head. You thought about it more than that corpse, which boggled your mind even more. Normally, in other peoples perspective, seeing a mangled body would be one of the few things the human mind would have a hard time trying to ignore. Strange. Taking another deep breath, you forced yourself up onto your feet, stumbling slightly before standing fully upright. 

You took note of a sharp pain that ran through the back of your skull. Groaning slightly, you hesitantly reached your hand to the back of your head, feeling around the area where it hurt the most. You feel a wet spot, wincing as your hand pressed against it a little too hard. Pulling your hand away and back to your gaze, your eyes widen at the red liquid on your fingers. You were bleeding? From what? You don't remember hitting your head hard enough to cut yourself. You rub your fingers together, smearing the blood a bit before deciding to get a move on. You needed to get home. Soon. Your best chance was now, of course, with the sun shining. Forcing your legs to move despite the stiffness, you set off. Hopefully in the direction of your neighbourhood. 

Each step you took only made your body feel worse. Your head didn't let up at all, the stinging pain along with the pounding headache you were getting made you almost feel nauseous. You weren't really good with pain since the beginning. You recall the memory of your mother taking you to get your ears pierced for the first time after constant begging when you were little. You don't think you've ever freaked out that much in your life, aside from last night. You smile to yourself. Little you thinking a needle going through your ear and having that pinch be the worst thing ever. You giggle. Funny how times change so quickly. That makes you think that it's one of the most easiest things now. You'd rather have needles nearly everywhere injected into your body just so you wouldn't have to experience last night again. 

Taking a small break, you lean yourself against a tree and take a moment to listen to your surroundings. You listen for any clues that you may hopefully be close to some clearing or a roadway. A few seconds pass before you begin to hear a distant sound of a motor and your heart nearly jumps with joy. You were close. If you can go towards that sound, you should be able to reach the road within less than 10 minutes depending on your pace. Pushing yourself off the tree, your legs carry you towards the sound. Seeing someone again would be good. Being near multiple sounds even better. Being alone in the woods for so long can make someone feel trapped, which is already settling in for you. 

Pushing past thick bushes and branches, your ears pick up another car passing by. Closer. Much closer. Your strides become a little wider as you're determined to get out. You begin to see a small clearing with a paved road which sparks enjoyment and excitement throughout your body. You were almost out. The last few steps seem to take forever before finally throwing your body out of the thick woods. You never thought seeing a road would bring you such joy, but it's seems the time has finally come. You look around you, seeing no cars in the distance but that's alright. If you followed along the side of the road, one is bound to come. You decide to go left. Directions didn't concern you anymore as of right now. You were already lost as is. You just had to find someone and get directions or even a slight clue to where you were.

Hearing the gravel crunch under your shoes as you walked wasn't an unpleasant sound to you. Now that you have a road next to you along with daylight, you start to feel the spark of hope that everything will be better as of now. You were lucky that it was the beginning of autumn so the temperature didn't bother you. The weather being nearly perfect as the warm and cool air combined. It also made a pretty scenery. The red, orange and yellow leaves upon the trees that are still holding on make a beautiful picture. The flew falling in the distance makes it movie-like. They surround the road each way going on for as far as you can see. If the weather was any different, such as rain or even the season of winter, you'd be freezing yourself to death. You were lucky that it was the time of year it was. If not, you'd probably wouldn't stand a chance making it this far. 

Watching your feet as you walk, you begin to hear the sound of a motor approaching you. You looked up to see a brownish-black truck that was raised quite a bit off the ground coming towards you. Your eyes lit up as you raise your arm and begin to wave the truck down, hoping that the person would be kind enough to give you a hand. As the truck grew closer, it didn't appear like it was going to stop. It happened to drive right past you until slowing down and pulling over behind you. You let out a breath before heading towards it. The drivers side door opened to reveal a younger man dressed in worn out blue jeans and a beige jacket coming out. His dark brown hair slightly moving with the breeze. He closed the door before turning towards you fully and looking at you. He made a surprised expression when he saw your appearance. 

"Hey, sunshine, do you need help? What's going on? Are you bleeding?" He gestured towards your hands that still had your blood on them from earlier. Ah, right. It's not an everyday occurrence where you run into someone walking down the road with blood on them. Should've wiped that off before trying to get him to stop. 

"Please, I need help! Or guidance. Something. I-I got lost in the woods last night and couldn't find my way out until dawn. I..." You couldn't mention the body. Or what you saw. It would make you sound insane and probably scare the poor guy away. You made to make up a lie and sound as convincing as possible. You looked at your hands, "I tripped a-and fell in the woods trying to get out. I ended up hitting the back of my head quite hard and it left a gash. That's why there's blood, I've been trying to suppress it." You showed your hands again before turning around slowly, letting the man get a view of the back of your head. Hoping he's understand and give you a ride back to where you knew the location of. You close your eyes and await for his response, silently praying that the quick lie you made up helps. How you fell and hit the back of your head? Hopefully he doesn't question that. You don't think you can make up an act that fast and on the spot again. 

"Oh, shit. You did hit yourself quite hard, didn't ya? Where are you heading sweetheart? I can give you a ride to get there." You couldn't help but notice that he had a slight southern accent. He comes a little closer to you to inspect your head a little and indeed there was quite a spot there drawing blood.  "Hmm.. You do have a nasty cut there. Maybe I should take you to emergency instead... Come on. Get in my truck." You quickly turn around and follow the young man towards the truck, heading towards the passengers side that he kindly opened for you and helped you get into the seat of. He heard him close the door and walk around the front of the truck before entering the drivers side again. You put the seatbelt on and hoped that this man didn't have any negative intentions. You did just hop into his truck without knowing the guy. Hell, you didn't even have his name yet. 

"Before we head off, you mind telling me where you came from? You didn't say earlier. I know you mentioned the woods, but like, your hometown?" He was looking at you as he said this. You took a moment to reply trying to think about a good way to explain it. "I live on a street called Upper Brookside. There are train tracks leading to the highschool right beside it. You know.. NV Highschool? Where one of the murders happened not too long ago?" You hoped the man heard about these areas. If he's near radios at all, he should know about the recent murder that happened at the school. It shook you up a bit since it was so close to where you live. Also being the highschool that you went to a few years back. Those memories will never be looked at the same now. Even if you weren't there when it happened, you couldn't help but feel awful for that family who lost their kid. 

The young man looked shocked for a split second before regaining his composure. He looked forward before starting his truck and driving off a little, heading in the opposite direction of where you come from. You must've went the wrong way. "Yes, uh.. Northern Valley Highschool. That was.. definitely a scene there. I wasn't expecting to hear that on the radio that day. It was such a nice school from what I've heard. Never went there myself personally, but, the stories make up for it that were told." You decided to keep quiet and not answer the guy, only looking at the road ahead. Your skull was still pounding from the headache you got. You craved rest and the comfort of your home. His voice snapped you out of your thoughts. "You're probably wondering why we're heading in the opposite direction, no? Upper Brookside is this way. You were headin' the wrong way, darling." Ah. You were right, you were heading in the wrong direction. 

"O-oh. That's alright. A fault on my side. I guess I completely lost track of where I was. Not something someone should do.." Your voice trailed off saying that last part. "No worries. Shit like this happens. Call it a little fun adventure. Even though uhm, yours ended in not a fun way... I must say though, you hiked quite a bit of distance to be this far from where you live. We're about 30 minutes driving time. Just what were you doing out in the woods that far? You must know now that it's not safe." He questions you about your motives. Something you hoped he didn't do earlier. "Just has you said, decided to go for a hike to clear the mind. Ended up in a fucked situation and got lost. Sums up my luck." He only nods his head and makes an 'mmm' sound your reply. Strange. 

About 15 minutes into the drive, you kept taking side glances at the guy. You were right about the beige jacket, blue jeans and brown hair. Which, now looking at him closer, he has side burns as well. You make out a small detail of bags under his eyes. The guy looks like he hasn't slept well in a while. Looking further, but this time more into the truck, you noticed old smoked cigarette butts on the dash and in the drink holders. In the end of your very silent and small investigation, you deemed the guy heavily stressed. Not that you minded, you were too. 

The rest of the drive was a blur to you. Zoning out so much that you didn't realize that you were heading to the hospital, even with him mentioning that earlier. Slight panic struck through you. If you went there, they would obviously question you about your health and what exactly happened. With the blood on you, they might even suspect things that weren't true and you might end up in a more sticky situation.  Especially where you were in the woods. You had to think of something. You recognized where you were now when you looked out the windows properly. 5 minutes to the hospital, 10 from your home. You hate to ask him to turn around a bit and for him to take you home instead, but it's the better option as of right now. 

"H-hey.. I'm sorry for the late notice, but would you mind taking me home instead? I'll be fine to treat my own self. You can just drop me off at my street and I can walk. It's not far." You asked this nervously, wondering if he would even agree upon seeing your condition. "Are you sure, darling? It might be better for you to see someone. You had a rough night." He slowed the truck down anyway and pulled over to give you time to make up your mind, looking at you with a concerned face. "Yeah, I'll be fine. I've treated wounds before. Not a big deal to me. I'm just tired and I'd rather go home and rest for now. If anything happens that I can't treat, I'll take myself." You try and say this with a confident tone. You can't have him doubting you. He lets out a small sigh before continuing, turning the truck around and driving to your street. "Alright. I'm glad you have confidence in yourself to do that. I don't blame you for not wanting to be in the hospital, they make me uneasy too. Just don't hesitate to go if you need it, yeah?" 

The truck passes over the train tracks, making you two shift a little in your seats. Before you know it, you're approaching your destination. Upper Brookside. 'Finally' you think. You're almost home. He stopped the truck a little ways down the street. Unlocking the doors and turning towards you. "Well, here you are. Are you sure you're gonna be okay?" What a nice guy. He seems quite caring for you even though he just picked you up on the side of the road. "I will be, thank you so much. I can't appreciate you enough for doing this. It means a lot. I would've been going in circles and being lost all over again if you weren't here." You tried to lighten the mood a bit making the joke. It was a success, the guy let out a tiny laugh before watching you get out. "Just make sure to stay safe, alright? And don't thank me. Be happy that you were there at the right time for me to see you." He smiles at you while you're standing outside the truck, closing the door. "Oh, mind if I get your name, sunshine? I'm sorry, I never asked for it in the beginning. Little too worried seeing someone hurt on the side of the road." He tilted his head while he asked. Oh right, you two never mentioned those at all, did you? "It's [Name]." You spoke back softly. 

"Nice to meet ya, [Name]." He said with a smile. "You can call me Tim." 

"Timothy 'Tim' Wright." 

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currently unedited, expect mistakes.

[demonsandpieohmy]

“This ends when you want it to.”

Crowley laughed, and it turned into a pained cough, as he spat out a mouthful of blood onto the pristine white floor of heaven.

“Come on, Aziraphale. You’re gonna have to do better than that.”

“I don’t take any pleasure in hurting you,” Aziraphale said from where he stood over the demon sprawled on the floor, hands bound behind his back.

Crowley rolled onto his side away from Aziraphale. He couldn’t bear to look into those vacant violet eyes. They didn’t belong to the angel he knew. Not anymore.

“You know, I’ve been here before. When we fell they took away most of our memories of heaven, but left just enough of the good ones for it to hurt. To remind us of what we lost. And I remember the joy of creating stars. I remember this bright beautiful little thing came zooming past, and he broke my heart - for the first time, as it would happen - when he told me that everything I had made, everything we were all working so hard on, was going to disappear in only a few thousand years. That’s when I started asking questions, hanging out with the wrong angels. It all gets a bit fuzzy from there.

“But something happened when I was on earth, all that time must have shook things loose, I started remembering something else. Probably because the person the memory was about kept showing up over and over in my life. I was right here in heaven, maybe in this exact room, being tortured by one of the other angels. I didn’t even know what pain was before then, how could angels feel pain? I was so confused, so scared, I couldn’t understand what I had done wrong, when all I wanted was to protect the sacred Creation. I answered all their questions, I didn’t understand why they kept hurting me. I didn’t think I was saying anything wrong. They wanted to know about Lucifer, any plans he had, and I answered everything, because I just wanted to make it stop.

“And then they asked how I found out, how I even knew about Armageddon, because that was supposed to be top secret. So I told my first ever lie. I knew that if I told them the truth, you would end up exactly where I was, and I couldn’t stand the thought of that bright smiling face twisted up in agony. I told them I didn’t remember, which of course they knew wasn’t true, because angels remember everything - well, not everything eh? Not anymore. I didn’t tell them about you though, I never did. Even when they kept at it for days, weeks, who even knows how much time passed, time barely even existed back then.

“And here I am again. Back because of you, aren’t I? Nothing ever changes.”

He rolled back over to face the empty husk of his former friend.

“So believe me when I tell you this, Aziraphale, that I would rather die than tell you anything. Because if I did, I would just be selling you out. I didn’t do it last time, and I won’t do it now.”

Crowley could have sworn he saw a spark of recognition in the angel’s eyes, but it was quickly snuffed out.

“Then let’s continue.”

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A memory wiped Aziraphale tortures Crowley. Inspired by this and this.

[themsource]

Red comforting reader after having a baby please?

Um, since postpartum is an often overlooked thing compared to baby blues I figured I'd write the scene with that kind of scenario in mind. Hope that's okay ^^;

The baby is crying again.

It feels as if they never stop crying.

The sunlight drenches you as you sit on the porch numbly in your chair. You're staring ahead seeing nothing, but hearing everything.

You're tired.

So tired…

The crying stops.

Squeaking metal and the slap of wood signal the arrival of your husband. His voice is ever lax and easygoing as the day you first met.

"hey sweetheart, enjoyin' the view?"

You don't say anything and that's fine, that's fine with him.

You haven't really eaten and haven't showered in days. You can smell yourself, and still that is perfectly fine.

Hard phalanges comb through the tangled mop on your head that you can barely call hair anymore, softly pulling out knots while kneading your scalp in a gentle massage.

Deep Brooklyn echos in your ears, "called my bro, he's willin' ta watch the brat for a few days. give us a bit of a break."

He sounds so affectionate when he says 'brat'. So proud and confident like he's just finished climbing Mt. Everest and stands at it's peek puffing out his chest. It's a pretty picture that normally you'd smile at and maybe tease him a little over.

Only it's nothing, there's no joy sparking inside you or warmth.

You're exhausted.

"How do you do it?" Your voice is a croak from disuse. "How do you handle this?"

He's quiet for a long moment as his hand stills in its petting. You know him well enough that it's obvious he's thinking over his answer, thinking hard as to not say the first and most brash thing that's leapt to his tongue.

Red has had time with you through the years to learn that sometimes the most obvious and clear answer isn't always the right one. Not because you can't handle it, but because sometimes when you pose him a question it's an attempt to examine yourself and your thoughts through interaction. If you looked at him now you know you'd see him with his sockets narrowed in thought, his sharpened teeth gritting and rubbing into each other.

He chuckles. "ya forget i did this already. i raised a tyke once sweetheart."

"...experience? It that it?" You ask.

His hand leaves and heavy footfalls dance across wood as he moves to sit beside you. Even sitting directly on the porch he's at least chest and shoulders above the arm of your chair making it easy to see the soft grin on his face from the corner of your eye.

"'is that it'. heh, plain and simple? yeah it is." Your shoulders sag but he's not done. "not so simple tho? hell naw! it's a nightmare babe. gonna be lotsa sleepless nights and urges to throttle somthin' or jump off a cliff."

Red's grin widens as he covers your limp hand with his. "but it's worth it. that's how i handle it. i think of how that runt will be running around raising hell with other kids as they grow, callin' us to bail their ass outta trouble while pretendin' they ain't full of snot bubbles and tears, and laugh my ass off imagin' how bad i can embarrass them on their wedding day."

It's not strength returning to you persay, that lets you slightly turn your head from the perpetual lock it was in to look at him, but it's something.

"You can picture all that?"

"yeah," his thumb runs over your knuckles. "because i have faith in us, and because i experienced it once already."

Slowly, very slowly a smile inches its way onto your face. "If they turn out anything like Edge I'll blame you."

He smirks.

Your grin falls.

"I'm jealous, Red. I can't see any of that. All I hear is the wailing and feel the frustration when I can't stop it. Suffer the aches from my body and resent how hard getting up in the morning feels."

He's no longer smiling but he's listening. His vermilion colored eyelights are honed on you and attentive as he gives a gentle squeeze of encouragement.

"I…don't know if I can last eighteen years of this." Your voice cracks, and Red is on his feet pulling you from your chair and cradling you in his arms. Tears run and he presses chaste kisses to your forehead for an inordinate amount of time before they finally stop. At the end you're a husk, hollowed out and empty again but clinging to him as he holds you.

"it won't be eighteen years, y'know. six at best, maybe ten. then it's worse…they start talkin'. then you'll wish they went back to cryin' and cooin'. cuz damn— the shit they'll say." He murmurs.

Somehow, that gets a laugh out of you, though you can't feel it there is a genuineness to it you'll recognize later.

"You should be a therapist. You lie real pretty." You mumble.

Red snorts. "not lyin'. just bein' one hell of a copin' mechanism."

You tilt your head up and meet his gaze. It's tender, adoring, even as you sit here being nothing more than a whiny mess. At first you'd thought him an insensitive pervert, but you couldn't have been more wrong. It took time to get Red to feel secure enough to open up but you'd both managed and now here you were.

Married.

Parents.

You suddenly felt as if you could manage.

"If I can deal with your mood swings for the last several years, I guess I can get through this." You whisper dryly, lovingly.

When Red grins it's cocky and hitched, just the way you like it.

He leans in and captures you in a kiss, the words he utters a fervent praise against your lips.

"that's the spirit sweetheart."

[determinedwriter]

No. 16: “Would you lie with me and just forget the world?”

Ro

Peter takes me on a fun date night, swinging from building to building with webs as I fly after him. “Where are we going?”

He grins, stopping at a tall building. “Here. Look.”

I look at the view, seeing a gorgeous city skyline. “Wow, you can really see a lot from here. It’s so pretty. God, look at the stars.”

Peter grabs my hand. “I knew you’d like it. I know your curfew is soon, but we can stargaze for a good bit before I have to take you home.”

I smile. “That sounds perfect.”

We lay side by side and hold hands, looking at the sky in peace. “I could do this forever.”

He kisses me. “Me too.”

I take a long, content breath. “Sometimes I just want to forget everything else. The Avengers, stupid high school stuff, the pressure of being a Stark…I just want to stay here with you forever.”

He squeezes my hand. “Yeah, me too. But we always have each other.”

I nod. “Yeah. God, I never want to lose you.”

Peter scoots closer to me. “Good. You won’t.”

“I love-” I start to say, interrupted by a voice.

“Stark.” He says, joining me and Peter on the rooftop. 

I stand up quickly, not sure what to make of this guy. I don’t know who he is. And the general public doesn’t know I’m a Stark. They definitely aren’t supposed to know I’m Tony Stark’s daughter.

Peter stands beside me, subtly brushing his hand against mine. “Umm, can we help you? We’re just doing a little star gazing.”

“Aurora Stark, yes?” He repeats.

The man doesn’t particularly stand out to me as handsome or ugly. He doesn’t have any specific characteristics that tell me anything about him. He’s just…a guy. And it’s hard to get a read on someone when they don’t give anything away.

I gulp. “Potts.” 

Using my fake surname only makes him shake his head in amusement. “No, no, you’re Tony’s kid. You’ve got that look about you. And I’ve been watching you long enough to know you’re his daughter. And that your little boyfriend is Spider-Man.”

Peter flinches. “Who are you?”

“Nobody important. I’m just here for a job. Thankfully, the client didn’t want me to take out Tony himself. Just his pride and joy.” He taunts.

Peter immediately shoots a web at him and he dodges. “Now hold on.”

“I’m not listening to a word you say when you just threatened my girlfriend!” Peter yells.

I let my hands heat up and become consumed in flames, pointing them in the man’s direction. “Leave now or burn. Your choice.”

He laughs. This bastard actually laughs. “I don’t think that will get you very far, dear.”

Suddenly lunging forward at Peter, the man attacks. I instantly throw my fireballs at him, seeming to just bounce right off.

He sees my confusion. “I came prepared, fire girl. And now I’ll reduce you to ash.”  

Peter and I fight him until deciding to flee to the Avengers compound where we’ll have backup. Peter swings from web to web, expecting me to be right behind him with my power of fire flight.

But our enemy has come prepared. As soon as I take flight, he’s shooting water at me from a simple plastic toy. Who knew it could be my downfall?

Extinguishing my flames, the water causes me to plummet to the ground. I scream. “PETER!”

I’m unsure if he’s too far ahead to hear me, but I know he must be close. I can’t reignite myself, being too wet to get even a spark.

“RO!” I hear Peter yell in a panic. He sounds too far away. And the ground is getting closer. I hit the side of a tall building’s fire escape on the way down, the metal railings hitting me hard in the back.

Flailing in the air, I know I hit a few more things before Peter just barely catches me with his webs and I go limp like a ragdoll, seeming to feel nothing at all.

And before I know it, I’m gone.

Peter

“Ro! RO!” I scream, racing to my girlfriend. I swear, I thought she was right behind me. But now she’s falling to the ground from several feet in the air, unable to save herself.

I dive forward in desperation, shooting webs to catch her. She hit metal railings and a lamppost on the way down before I stop her from hitting the ground.

But now she isn’t moving. She’s lying in the web with her eyes closed and arms outstretched, body looking dead.

Dead.

I don’t let myself think that yet, getting her out of the web before holding her gently in my arms. “Ro. Ro. Ro, can you hear me?”

She doesn’t respond, eyes staying closed.

Then her phone rings, showing the caller ID of the one person who will definitely blame me for letting this happen.

Iron Dad <3

I blame myself too. But maybe he can help. Maybe.

I pick up the phone and yell into it before Mr. Stark can get a word in. “Mr. Stark, come here NOW! There’s this guy and he shot Ro with water and she fell from the sky and I was barely able to catch her and she’s not moving!”

There’s a tense pause. “I need you to slow down and say that again.”

“Ro isn’t moving and you have to help! I don’t know where the guy who did it is but I-I couldn’t stop him! Please!” I plead.

He asks for the address and I give it, Mr. Stark flying here in his Iron Man armor in no time at all. “Kid!”

I look up and see him in the sky. “Down here!”

Mr. Stark’s faceplate lifts and I see his worried expression. “Ro…”

He takes her from my arms and feels for a pulse in her neck. “Pete, call an ambulance.”

“Is she breathing?” I question.

“Just call a goddamn ambulance!” He snaps, cradling Ro like she’s a baby. “Come on, Ro. Come on. It’s okay.”

I call for the ambulance while Mr. Stark does CPR right in front of me, desperately pumping Ro’s chest and begging for a heartbeat.

“Come on. Come on. Come on.” He repeats. “You’re alright. You’re alright, baby.”

The man who caused this decides to descend upon us at that moment, Mr. Stark looking up and glaring at him as he continues chest compressions.

“He did this,” I say in a low, devastated, and angry voice.

Mr. Stark raises a hand and fires a repulsor blast at him before continuing to work on Ro. She’s still not breathing.

The ambulance seems to take forever, but it’s likely only a few minutes. I soon find out in the hospital that she’s in surgery.

She had flatlined for a few minutes before the doctors could get her back, but she’s alive. She’s alive and that’s what matters.

I do wonder what kind of damage will be done to her though. Will she be alright?

The man who did this was only knocked out by the blast, getting arrested at the scene of his unforgivable crime. 

He may have been the one to spray the water that took her down, but I was the one that failed to catch her. And that will always be true.

Mr. Stark paces the waiting room. “Tell me how it happened.” 

Tears stream down my face. “I’m so sorry. I-I tried…I…”

He continues to pace. “Just tell me.”

“We were stargazing on a roof and…a-and then that guy came and said…said her name. He told us that he was…hired to take her out. To kill her. That thankfully he wasn’t hired to kill you, but…hired to kill your pride and joy. He said he’s been watching her. Then he lunged for me and there was a fight before Ro and I ran off. She was right behind me. She was using her fire flight abilities and then he used a water gun. All it took was a water gun to take her down and she was falling and she called for me and-and…I couldn’t catch her until she’d already hit stuff on the way down…then she just went limp when I caught her with some webs. She was screaming and then she just…she just stopped. She went quiet. Mr. Stark, I’m so sorry. I would’ve done anything to save her. I came over as fast as I could. God, I’m so sorry!” I explain. 

Mr. Stark is quiet for a moment. “It’s not your fault.”

He sounds heartbroken. I don’t know what to say. “I tried, sir…I really tried.”

He nods. “I know you did.”

We sit in silence for a while until a doctor enters the waiting room and looks at us. “Stark?”

Mr. Stark stands up. “How is she doing? Is she okay?”

The doctor glances at me and Mr. Stark nods. “He can hear whatever you have to say.”

“We were thankfully able to stabilize Aurora’s spine, but it will take some time to recover. She’s going to need physical therapy to walk without some form of assistance. She’s incredibly lucky to not be paralyzed.” They say.

He blinks away tears. “Assistance like what?”

“It depends on the extent of the damage and how well she does in therapy. A wheelchair, a walker, crutches, anything like that. It varies from person to person.” They explain.

Mr. Stark goes to see her, soon allowing me to come in. Ro’s awake when I enter the hospital room, looking like she’s been crying. “Hey…”

She takes my hand. “Hey, Peter.”

I grin sadly. “How’re you feeling?”

She exhales slowly. “Not great, but you know…also not dead.”

Kissing Ro’s forehead, I breathe in deeply. “I’m so glad you’re alive.”

Ro lays back, eyes glassy. “I love you.”

I give her hand a squeeze. “To the moon and back.”

[oceanicxeyes]

A challenge. This was all that it was. A clash between egos, between two guys that did not like to back down no matter the circumstances. To Patrick – this was also new. Humans tended to fall prey to his words in a matter of seconds and they would do whatever he wanted to do for a fraction of his attention. But not Toby. He challenged him back, he provoked him, taunted and sought to bruise his ego in return. If Patrick didn’t know any better, he would say he was in the presence of a demon. But Tobias was no demon. He was many things all at once, many powers and words – but definitely no demon. And he was becoming tired of this game…which was a shame since for a demon, they did enjoy to peel layer after layer of their victim before they were laid bare and raw underneath him. Not how he did his normal job. He wouldn’t lose time playing this game with a client. It was just fucking and getting paid and leaving. But Tobias was a challenge that he was eager to meet head on. Even when he felt sharp claws closing around his throbbing length or resting on the skin of his hip – he did not waver or falter. “You’re resorting to intimidation tactics to get me to do what you want?” It was such a dangerous game that they were both playing and Patrick really did not mind. If anything, he felt more alive than ever. He felt even more aroused to fuck Toby as brutally as he could if only to prove a mere point. But for the time being – let the other man have this win. He may have won this little back-and-forth battle but the war between the two of them was far from over. Let him intimidate him with those sharp, definitely deadly claws on his skin, sparking a mixture of pain and joy that spiraled down his nervous system and went straight for his cock. It did turn him on. Even that attempt to scare and intimidate him. “Fine…” They were done playing around. Patrick smirked like a Cheshire cat as he brushed his lips over Toby’s yet again, turning on his demonic allure for the first time that night. Everything related to pleasure and sex would be intensified. His touch would be more seductive, his kisses even more mind-blowing than ever. He did need to resort to such tricks to seduce a prey but Toby had made this personal the moment those claws met his skin. He wanted a demon? Then let’s get him a demon. Hands spread the other man’s legs wide after abandoning the tight, inviting hole and Patrick hovered above Toby like a shadow. His hips were dangerously close to his entrance – the engorged tip of his cock pocking the inviting ring of muscle that desperately craved what he could offer and provide. And then… something moved in the water. Something that wiggled like a serpent, that moved around Toby before quickly wrapping itself around the man’s throat like a snake. “Don’t mind my tail.” He didn’t squeeze hard. He had no intentions of crushing someone’s throat or ripping someone’s head off. Just enough pressure to make Toby gasp – to struggle to contain each breath that would come out of his lips – to pay attention to how much he had on his lungs as everything became far more sensitive than they had ever been. “You want me to fuck you, do you?” Lips met again in a teasing motion. Patrick was smiling but he was definitely over playing with his food. “I might go slow just to tease you… or hard to make you scream.” Regardless, his tail remained wrapped around Toby’s neck while one of his hands pinched the left nipple between his index and thumb. Mere distractions. Mere teasing motions to drive Toby even crazier than before as Patrick aligned himself with the other man and… pushed in. Just the tip – just enough to feel the tight walls resist his intrusion before granting him access – inch after torturous inch being pushed inside the other man until he was half-way in. “Breathe now. Slowly… Eyes on me, pretty boy. Nothing else matters…. But US now.”

Toby’s grip tightened on Patrick’s cock, his fingers digging into the flesh with a firmness that bordered on cruelty. The incubus might’ve been smug with his teasing words, but Toby was done playing the part of the willing participant, done letting the demon toy with him like a cat with a mouse. A low growl rumbled in his chest, a sound more primal than human, more animal than demigod. It slipped past his lips—a rough, guttural sound that was almost a purr.

Patrick was still spouting his arrogant nonsense, his lips curved in that infuriating smile that made Toby want to wipe it off his face, preferably with a fist. Or maybe with something else. Toby wasn’t one for games, not when he had real work to do—real demons to slay, real trials to face. Patrick was wasting his time, drawing this out like it was a sport, like Toby was some mortal plaything to be toyed with.

But that was the nature of demons, wasn’t it? To play, to torment, to break down their prey until there was nothing left but a quivering, begging mess. It shouldn’t have been a surprise that Patrick liked to take his time, to make Toby squirm, to enjoy every second of his suffering. That was the role of a sadist, after all—to derive pleasure from another’s pain, to feast on their desperation like a fine meal.

But Toby was no mortal, and he certainly wasn’t here to be anyone’s victim. Not today. Not ever.

With a deep breath, Toby reached further inside himself, searching for the dregs of what remained of the powers he once possessed. In his mind, he heard the roar of a tiger, distant and faint as it was. The sound stirred something primal within him, of what he truly was beneath this mortal shell.

If the demon wanted to play, he’d have to do it on Toby’s terms.

"Demons are such good talkers," Toby drawled, his accent thickening with each word, "but how rarely they produce more than words."

With deliberate slowness, Toby let his nails lengthen, the tips curving into sharp, deadly points. They skimmed across the sensitive skin of Patrick’s cock, just hard enough to be felt, just enough to send a jolt of pain mingling with the pleasure.

His other hand drifted to Patrick’s hip, his fingers digging into the flesh with enough force to bruise. He could feel the heat radiating from the demon’s body, the steady throb of blood just beneath the surface. It was intoxicating, the power, the control—this was what Toby had been craving, what he needed.

"You charge for the full service, do you?" Toby's voice was low, dangerous. "Well, consider this pro bono work. Think of it as... community service." His claws dug in slightly, not enough to break the skin, but enough to clarify his point. "I'm not some simpering mortal you can bend to your will with a few pretty words and a skilled tongue."

"You want to walk away? Go ahead. But we both know you won't. You're just as caught up in this as I am."

He met Patrick's gaze, unflinching. "You think I'm demanding and arrogant? Pot, kettle, black, love. At least I'm honest about what I want." Toby's lips curled into a smirk. "And right now, what I want is for you to stop talking and start fucking."

The kiss that followed was brutal, all teeth and tongue and barely contained fury. Toby poured all his frustration and desire into it, determined to show Patrick that he wasn't some passive plaything to be toyed with.

When they finally broke apart, Toby's eyes were wild, pupils blown wide with lust. "That's more than just a taste, darling," he mocked, throwing Patrick's words back at him. "Now, are you going to make good on all that talk, or do I need to take matters into my own hands?"

His claws retracted, leaving behind only the ghost of their presence.

This is madness, a small voice in the back of Toby's mind whispered. You're playing with fire, and you're going to get burned. But he pushed the thought aside. He was already in too deep, already committed to this dangerous game. And if he was honest with himself, a part of him was revelling in it.

"Well?" Toby arched an eyebrow, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "I'm waiting, oh great and powerful demon. Show me what you've got. Or are you all out of tricks?"

[mordysworld]

Perfectly Perfect: A script for a short film

The following is the drafted script adaptation of my short story 'Perfectly Perfect'. A Warning: This script contains themes of death, suicidal ideation and intrusive thoughts.

INT. HOUSE - EVENING

CUT TO A BIRDS EYE SHOT OF A PLATE OF FOOD, IT LOOKS DRY AND BLAND- THE PLATE CONSISTS OF COLD LOOKING PEAS, DRY CHICKEN AND CARROTS. THE SHOT IS STILL, CLEAR AND BRIGHT.

UNKNOWN LADY'S: 

How was work dear?

THE AUDIO IS MUDDIED AND SOUNDS LIKE THE LISTENER IS UNDERWATER. 

A clock can be heard ticking in the background but somehow louder than the other sounds in the room.

UNKNOWN LADY'S VOICE: 

Honey..?

THE MAN (V.O.):

Oh right, she's speaking to me

THE MAN(CONT'D) 

It was fine dear... same as always John got permission to move forward with his pitch in his meeting today

THE MAN (O.S.) 

It was my idea, I got zero credit, it's fine.

UNKNOWN LADY 

Oh that's good. 

(An uncomfortable silence stretches between them)

The bland boiled carrots on his plate stare mockingly at him so he picks up a fork full eating and killing them, if he focused hard enough he could taste their blood. (a dribble of crimson blood leaks out of the corner of his mouth he wipes it up licking his fingers) ( The clock continues steadily clicking )

THE MAN (V.O.): 

I wonder, if water perhaps enjoys being drunk? If it finds a spark of joy from travelling down the gullet of those who are lucky enough to come by it?

He takes a sip of his glass of water, a scowl on his face as he replaces the glass on its coaster.

THE MAN(V.O.) (CONT'D):

Impossible. It was foolish of me to even ask such a question... How could anyone truly feel happiness in this awful world? A world where intrusive thoughts are a regular occurrence, where even if you wanted to you couldn't feel anything, a world in which everyday is a struggle- where waking up feels like a burden- where a coherent thought is hard to come by- WHERE THAT DAMN CLOCK WON’T STOP TICKING

( The Clock continues to click)

The man's eyes refocus and he stares down at his plate, heart racing. He sees a small collection of eyeballs on his plate- he eats them without a second thought.

THE MAN(V.O.):

I want to leave.

THE VOICE:

Then leave.

SHOT OF THE TABLE SHOWS THAT THE LADY AND A CHILD ARE HAPPILY CHATTING AWAY. THE MAN IS CONFUSED AS HE SHRUGS AND WALKS AWAY, THE CAMERA FOLLOWS.

INT. BEDROOM.

ALL SHOTS UP TO THIS POINT HAVE BEEN STILL, STABLE SHOTS.

The man sighs as he enters his room, not one of relief but one of tiredness. He slowly but surely strips off his clothes. A ringing sound can be heard as he stares at the clothes in his hand, a muffled distant screaming can be heard. 

Shot from the perspective of the Laundry basket as we see him look at the clothing before throwing it in the basket before turning away.

INT. BATHROOM - NIGHT

The man walks into the bathroom now naked; we see him glance at the shower.

THE MAN:

What a pain.

Mistakenly he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, flinching at his own reflection.

THE VOICE:

You’ve let yourself go… you've been eating too much again haven't you?

The Man refuses to respond.

THE VOICE:

Pity. You looked so handsome when you were younger…why does everything on wither as time moves forward? Everyone and everything is destined for this disgusting decay. What's the little one's name? It honestly doesn't matter- she will grow up to  be just like you, I can see it in her eyes. What sort of man are you that you can't even spare your own child from this suffering? I thought a man's job was to protect his family?

The voice takes a moment of pause from its degradation

THE VOICE(cont’d):

Pathetic.

He stepped under the cold shower water, barely twitching at the temperature

SHOT OF THE MAN TURNING THE NOZZLE ON THE SHOWER TO COLD AND WE SEE HIM JUST STAND BLANKLY STARING AT THE WALL.

Camera shows blatant and dark eye bags and a deep set frown but his eyes look soulless as if all the life had been sucked out of him. He collapses in a heap on the floor of the shower, falling to his knees.

He appears lost in thought, scratching at his arm- he comes to and realises that he’s bleeding.

THE VOICE:

You should kill yourself

THE MAN:

I know

THE VOICE: 

Then do it, coward

THE MAN:

Not now

THE VOICE:

You're a miserable excuse for a human being, you know that?

THE MAN:

I think I want  meatballs for dinner tomorrow. I’ll have to ask if she can pick up the ingredients.

THE VOICE:

I hope you choke and die on your food you pig.

The man starts to sob silently, curling in on himself and laying in the foetal position. His tears and blood mixed together with the shower water.

When he finally gets up it is visibly much later than when he entered the shower.

A long uncomfortable shot ensues, the camera remains still across the room watching the man attempt to move.

He crawls over to the counter to heave himself up using all his strength, it shows on his contorted face. Forgoing the towel he attempts to walk back into his room but he collapses to the ground before he reaches his bed. His cuts were deep and still seeping blood. He

INT. HOUSE - EVENING

CUT TO A BIRDS EYE SHOT OF A PLATE OF FOOD, IT LOOKS DRY AND BLAND- THE PLATE CONSISTS OF COLD LOOKING PEAS, DRY CHICKEN AND CARROTS.

UNKNOWN LADY'S VOICE 

How was work dear?

THE AUDIO IS MUDDIED AND SOUNDS LIKE THE LISTENER IS UNDERWATER. 

(A clock can be heard ticking in the background but somehow louder than the other sounds in the room)

THE MAN (V.O.):

Was that clock always so loud?

UNKNOWN LADY'S: 

(hesitantly)Honey..?

THE MAN (V.O.):

Oh right, she's speaking to me

THE MAN(CONT'D) 

It was fine dear... same as always John got permission to move forward with his pitch in his meeting today

THE MAN (O.S.) 

It was my idea, I got zero credit, it's fine.

UNKNOWN LADY: 

Oh that's good. 

(An uncomfortable silence stretches between them)

The bland boiled carrots on his plate stare mockingly at him so he picks up a fork full eating and killing them, if he focused hard enough he could taste their blood. A dribble of crimson blood leaks out of the corner of his mouth he wipes it up licking his fingers ( The clock continues steadily clicking )

THE MAN (V.O.): 

I wonder, if water perhaps enjoys being drunk? If it finds a spark of joy from travelling down the gullet of those who are lucky enough to come by it?

He takes a sip of his glass of water, a scowl on his face as he replaces the glass on its coaster.

THE MAN(V.O.) (CONT'D):

Impossible. It was foolish of me to even ask such a question... How could anyone truly feel happiness in this awful world? A world where intrusive thoughts are a regular occurrence, where even if you wanted to you couldn't feel anything, a world in which everyday is a struggle- where waking up feels like a burden- where a coherent thought is hard to come by- WHERE THAT DAMN CLOCK WON’T STOP TICKING

( The Clock continues to click)

The man's eyes refocus and he stares down at his plate, heart racing. He sees a small collection of eyeballs on his plate- he eats them without a second thought.

THE MAN(V.O.):

I want to leave.

THE VOICE:

Then leave.

SHOT OF THE TABLE SHOWS THAT THE LADY AND A CHILD ARE HAPPILY CHATTING AWAY. THE MAN IS CONFUSED AS HE SHRUGS AND WALKS AWAY, THE CAMERA FOLLOWS.

INT. BEDROOM/BATHROOM - EVENING

ALL SHOTS UP TO THIS POINT HAVE BEEN STILL, STABLE SHOTS.

The man sighs as he enters his room, not one of relief but one of tiredness. He slowly but surely strips off his clothes. A ringing sound can be heard as he stares at the clothes in his hand, a muffled distant screaming can be heard. 

Shot from the perspective of the Laundry basket as we see him look at the clothing before throwing it in the basket before turning away.

The man walks into the bathroom now naked; we see him glance at the shower.

THE MAN:

What a pain.

Mistakenly he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, flinching at his own reflection.

THE VOICE:

You’ve let yourself go… you've been eating too much again haven't you?

The Man refuses to respond.

THE VOICE:

Pity. You looked so handsome when you were younger…why does everything on wither as time moves forward? Everyone and everything is destined for this disgusting decay. What's the little one's name? It honestly doesn't matter- she will grow up to  be just like you, I can see it in her eyes. What sort of man are you that you can't even spare your own child from this suffering? I thought a man's job was to protect his family?

The voice takes a moment of pause from its degradation

THE VOICE(cont’d):

Pathetic.

He steps under the cold shower water, barely twitching at the temperature

SHOT OF THE MAN TURNING THE NOZZLE ON THE SHOWER TO COLD AND WE SEE HIM JUST STAND BLANKLY STARING AT THE WALL.

Camera shows blatant and dark eye bags and a deep set frown but his eyes look soulless as if all the life had been sucked out of him. He collapses in a heap on the floor of the shower, falling to his knees.

He appears lost in thought, scratching at his arm- he comes to and realises that he’s bleeding.

THE VOICE:

You should kill yourself

THE MAN:

I know

THE VOICE: 

Then do it, coward

THE MAN:

Not now

THE VOICE:

You're a miserable excuse for a human being, you know that?

THE MAN:

I think I want  meatballs for dinner tomorrow. I’ll have to ask if she can pick up the ingredients.

THE VOICE:

I hope you choke and die on your food you pig.

The man starts to sob silently, curling in on himself and laying in the foetal position. His tears and blood mixed together with the shower water.

When he finally gets up it is visibly much later than when he entered the shower.

A long uncomfortable shot ensues, the camera remains still across the room watching the man attempt to move.

He crawls over to the counter to heave himself up using all his strength, it shows on his contorted face. Forgoing the towel he attempts to walk back into his room but he collapses to the ground before he reaches his bed. His cuts were deep and still seeping blood. He passes out and the screen fades to black. The credits play over top of a translucent background where you can just make out the scene of an ambulance lights flashing brightly, sombre jazz plays over it.

[one-way-dream]

oughg sorry

[pillowfriendly]

Neave liked bees. They were small and fuzzy, which he adored. They flocked around flowers, especially the yellow poppies his father liked to put on their wagon. The only problem, really, was scale. A handful of bees flitting around while you picked flowers made the day feel warmer. Dozens of them chasing after you, an overambitious honey thief, inspired different emotions entirely.

this weekend we finished our 2+ year long pathfinder campaign! it ended wonderfully but i'm still so sad to say goodbye to neave... i love u sunshine boy my so sweets honeybee 🐝

i wrote a few things for him over the course of the campaign, so i'll put my favorite one under the cut. cw for gore cause its when his gf got impaled by an undead mammoth. mondays amirite. dont worry he's the best healer that's ever been and they lived happily ever... later. (their ending was actually SO cornball and perfect. weeps with joy <3)

Nannet’s feet kicked empty air, and the motion slid her forward. Breath went out of her lungs and wouldn’t come back. The mammoth corpse lifted its trunk and trumpeted, a wailing dead sound that sprayed frozen maggots onto the ground below her. Tink tink tink. Too far below.

The mammoth’s head swung and she slid again. A red bolt flashed through her head; red splattered from her lips when she screamed. Her palms slapped against the tusk that curved away from her and pushed against it to stop the movement, to stop the splintery way that it widened–

She tensed her neck to halt the sudden droop of her head. Black ate the edges of her vision into a graying circle, and she focused that circle on the tusk protruding from her belly, followed it down to the ragged mouth of the mammoth. Its lips peeled away in the shredded suggestion of a grin and she bared a smile too, feeling the blood pool behind her teeth. 

“You next,” she said, though the words choked and burbled under the stream that poured from her mouth. It didn’t matter. Flame sparked at her fingertips and for a brief, manic moment her veins ran with rage so hot and sharp that it almost felt like glee. 

She burned a trench into the mammoth’s face. Coarse hair became smoke, pocked flesh became slag, one sunken eyeball burst and leaked down its face. The mammoth snapped its head from side to side and she held on, letting the molten wash of fury cramp her fingers around the tusk. Head down, her vision swung wildly and landed on Neave reaching upward, a glow suffusing his hand. She wanted more than anything to take it. Her palm slipped against the tusk; a thin sheet of blood fell and splashed red across his breastplate. Two long drops like slices landed on his face.

The mammoth teetered and she dragged her head up to watch its remaining eye glaze over. When it fell, the world arced hard to the left and she went with it. The impact rattled the ground, the walls, and her bones, with jittering pain she thought might untie whatever knots held her skeleton together. 

Everything felt loose, and she was gone for a moment. 

She came back tasting ash and iron. “On three,” Sev’s voice said, gently. He had a way of talking to animals like he was pulling a warm blanket around them. He used that tone now.

“Three,” Neave agreed, and his voice didn’t crack. She didn’t want it to crack. Did she? Hands wrapped around the top of each of her arms. No, that was what she didn’t want, and when she opened her mouth to protest–

She came back again. Breath whistled through her nose and rattled in her chest. Something warm crept along her back and she pressed down into it, letting her head fall to the side and opening bleary eyes. She lay next to something long and thick and yellowed, curiously warped near the end. She marshaled what few resources she had and blinked her vision clear. 

Fuzzy edges shuddered and snapped into place, and she saw the tusk that stretched alongside her. The tip was smeared with rivulets of blood, freezing in place. The place where the blood stopped, a couple feet from the jagged tip, had shrunk down like soft wax.

Nannet ran her eyes along the bubbles and cracks in the bone. It felt like it should mean something, but it didn't. She looked for Neave instead–above her now, as she vaguely knew he would be. His hair, coming loose from its tie, ruffled in the draft blowing up the icy steps.

All her life, she'd heard people complain about cold winds going right through them. This was the first time she’d ever felt it, felt the icy air touch her all the way through, just like they said. She tried to look down. Neave’s hand caught her chin and held it there, while the other stayed occupied with something she couldn't see, hovering somewhere above her stomach. The underside of his face was lit by the soft glow of healing magic and his eyes were fixed on her torso, yellow light flickering in the deep brown. He didn’t look back at her, but his fingers tightened on her face. Another first time: they felt warm. 

-

Later, she found Neave staring down the tunnel at the steps winding up from the town below. Too far below. An unstable and treacherous path, but no less the only way back. His eyes flicked over to Nannet as she approached, his face uncharacteristically still—he was holding it so, then. 

Which was never something he’d been able to do. His expression cracked like an egg, panic breaking through the thin shell of calm and spreading over his features as he grabbed for her hands and squeezed. Nannet let him–he was cool again to the touch, her warmth restored–and looked down the frosted tunnel. Retreat. 

Still death, only slower. 

“We can’t,” she whispered, trying to capture Sev’s gentle tone. She pulled him away, and for all Neave’s armor, he looked as if he would crumple. 

Now his voice cracked. “Nannet, you–”

“I didn’t.” She decided not to whisper; that wasn’t what he needed. She made her voice clear, confident, something to pick up his courage and place it back in his hands. Something that had never choked and never would. “But I will if we turn back. We all will. The only way out of here is over that bridge and through the Ashen Swale.” 

He looked at her, at the tunnel, at her stomach, at the ground. She caught his chin and tilted it up, pushing back until his shoulders squared. “I have your back and you have mine,” she said. “And I’m going over that bridge. You’ll follow me... right?” 

She watched him put the shards of his calm back together until it resembled something like composure. He nodded. Her hand moved enough to allow for that. 

@pillowfriendly’s oc Neave

[smolla-than-a-bug]

wait for me

sano shinichiro x reader

for @xybi’s collab event !

the only thing preventing you from taking the next step in your relationship is the fact that no matter what you do, you just can’t seem to get his daughter to like you

navi | tokrev m.list | event m.list

content — fem!reader, single dad! shinichiro, his daughter kinda mean, reader has parent issues, insecurity & self-doubt, bullying, a bit angsty, marriage, happy ending :D

notes — 8.5k+ wc. didnt intend for this to turn out so long tbh but here we are ig. this yn is inspired by bobbie from four sisters and a wedding cos shes my fave so if u know her story well,,, iykyk :"> song rec for this lil ole oneshot is pwede ba by lola amour

'No' can a daunting word in any given situation. As the sayer rather than the receiver of the word, it takes a solid backbone to be able to pronounce that single syllable in such a way that is resolute; otherwise, it would be so easy to simply give in and go with the flow.

Growing up, you'd been mostly ambitious and hard-working, but you lacked the ballsiness to be able to stand up for yourself, protest your circumstances and say what was really on your mind. You always accepted whatever was thrown at you with not so much a complaint, no matter how difficult or inconvenient—sometimes even painful and emotionally taxing. Whether or not your parents were aware of it, you had never fulfilled the role of being their pride and joy. There was always someone else who was better and achieved more. With every conversation on the dinner table came name-dropping and praise for other people, but never for you.

You never wanted anything more than for someone—anyone—to see you, to appreciate you. It stung that that person was neither of your own parents, and thus you learned to live carrying the agony of feeling invisible and unappreciated. Because of this, you never felt like you were able to make actual connections with other people your age and never experienced many good, long-lasting friendships. No one other than yourself is aware of the hardships you'd been through to get to where you are now.

Over time, you learned how to acknowledge your own efforts. You became used to the feeling of being invisible to others, so you strived to find a way to stand out. If your will sparked out of spite, you couldn't remember because all that matters is that for the first time in your life, you did something to satisfy yourself rather than to please someone else.

You made good use of your skill, your intelligence, your ambition, and somewhere along the road, you graduated with great pride for yourself and everything you've achieved. You put a wall between your current self and your past self, creating a distance that ran from your hometown all the way to Tokyo, where you had found yourself a great job opportunity.

It wasn't easy adjusting to the new environment, but during that period, you had been able to re-examine yourself and set a few rules. Gone was the Y/N that accepted her "fate" without a thought. The new Y/N would take every chance to assert herself and show the world what she's capable of.

And you did exactly that.

You gained admirers in your work, and you were able to climb up the ranks. In no time, you were able to attain a substantial amount of income for yourself at the ripe age of 23, and you were able to send a fair amount of money back home even if you barely contacted them anymore. Despite your complicated relationship with your family, you weren't heartless.

You were content with your life as it was in Tokyo, albeit immersed in work.

The only thing is that, the whole "showing the world what you're capable of" thing had been balanced out by the universe with an "I can do it myself and I refuse to seek help from anyone" attitude in you, and it applied to everything. Even when heavy rains plagued Japan, cellular reception was weak, and your car broke down along an unfamiliar street.

As the voice on your phone speaker reiterates for the nth time that your call has once again failed, you rest your head against the wheel. Over half an hour has passed and you're still stuck in the same spot with a car that won't turn on. Your throat begins to feel clogged up and you think you might cry, yet your tear ducts remain sealed shut and your eyes feel like they're dried out. You can do nothing about the frustration bubbling up. Hopelessness threatens to make its presence known, but you swallow it down every time you think it's about to overcome you.

A rapid knocking on your window jolts you upright just as you're about to attempt another call. Rainwater pours down your window in bucketloads so the figure outside is completely blurred from your view. You can't even make out their facial features. You hesitate to entertain whoever was on the outside because what if you were about to get robbed? In the rain? Defenseless with no way to escape? You check that your doors are locked.

The knocking comes again, more hurried this time, followed by a muffled voice shouting over the rain from the other side. "Hey! You okay in there?"

You don't respond, silently praying that the man goes away. He's probably drenched from head to toe by now.

"You still alive? Need any help?"

You roll down the window a few inches without thinking. "I don't need your help!"

"You sure? You've been out here an hour!" His voice is much clearer this time. "Why don't you come inside my shop for a bit? It can't be warm at all in there!"

You don't respond, closing the window up again.

The man must have expected you to come out after that, but you don't. You ignore him until finally, the blob on the outside of your window shakes its head, turns around, runs back where it came from, but not before throwing out a "Think about it!" presumably directed at you.

Another thirty minutes later, the rain still shows no sign of stopping. Your body is stiff from sitting in the same position all this time, and you've started to shiver from the cold. You'd been thinking about the man's offer. The more you think about it, the more you're considering taking it up, and when you hear rumbling in the sky, you do.

You grab your phone, wallet, and keys, and you scramble out of your car, through the rain, and into a building labeled S.S Motors.

A man that resembled the distorted blob through your window rushes towards you as soon as you enter with a towel in hand, pulling a chair along for your use. You nod to him in thanks, and he disappears in the back again after.

In his absence, you use the soft towel to dry your hair and pat down your wet clothes as much as you can, though not much became of that as you looked as if you went for a swim fully-dressed.

When the man comes back, he's carrying a stack of dry clothes in his hands, almost sheepishly offering them to you. "Here. You look like you might need these." You're weary of accepting clothes from a stranger. It must have shown on your face, for he rolled his eyes and gestured to you shaking from the cold. "Don't worry, these came straight out of the dryer, and I think you'll feel much better in them. Don't wanna catch a cold now do you?"

You huff before accepting the clothes.

"Bathroom's behind the counter."

He was right when he said you'd feel better wearing a fresh pair of clothes, even if they were a stranger's hoodie and sweats. Plus, the lingering heat from the dryer made them extra comfy. You attempted to tame your appearance as best as you could, especially your hair. You pulled the hoodie's sleeves over your palms before walking back out.

A scoff is the first thing you're greeted with. "You're still wearing those?" He looked pointedly at the heels still on your feet.

"Well, what else am I supposed to wear?"

Heels were already uncomfortable to wear for an extended period of time. Wet, scrunchy heels were even worse. You didn't have an extra pair of shoes with you, so you'd endure it if you had to. There were more pressing concerns you had to think of, like figuring out a way to get home.

"I just cleaned the floor. You can walk around barefoot, it's cool." He came around the counter. "I'll go put your clothes in the dryer. You can keep your shoes over by that chair."

His shop was brightly lit with different models of motorcycles lined up around the place, but you didn't dwell on it. You knew nothing of motorcycles. What you did catch your attention, however, was the little girl who cautiously walked out from the same room the man went into when he got you the clothes you were currently wearing.

You offered her a smile and a little wave, but you instantly faltered when she ran back inside.

"Sorry... She doesn't do well with new people."

"Oh." You fiddled with the sleeves of your sweater. "Was that your sister?"

He chuckled, jumping to sit on the counter. "Nah. Nina's my daughter." That certainly took you by surprise. She couldn't have been older than four, and he looked to be about your age if you had to assume. "Had her when I was eighteen.” He cocked his head, “I was pretty reckless back then."

“Well, she’s a beautiful kid. Pretty smart not talking to strangers, too.”

He had a sort of faraway look. “That she is.”

There’s no mistaking the affection he holds for his daughter. The gentle look in his eyes of pure love, no doubt reminiscing the impact of her birth on his life stirred a pleasant feeling from within you. Your younger self would have been jealous, but now you can only smile softly, knowing that Nina was lucky to have a father that held her in such regard. "You and your wife must be proud."

He held up his left hand, showing you his naked ring finger. "Her mom's out of the picture. Was barely in it, if I'm being honest."

"Oh I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that—"

"No, it's alright. You didn't know."

An awkward silence took over. Suddenly, the room felt way too big.

He coughed into his fist. "So uh, I'm Shinichiro by the way. Sano Shinichiro." You introduced yourself in return. "Nice to meet you, I guess. So much for first impressions," he cringed, physically patting his own back and moving around to check on Nina.

The irony of it was that you thought he was going to murder you back out in the car.

Only now did you note that the sky had cleared up. It was incredibly late into the night and you internally groaned at the thought of having to deduct hours from your sleep to be able to get to work on time tomorrow, but at least it had stopped raining.

"Hey, Y/N?" You didn't notice when Shinichiro came back. "I could take a look at your car for you if you want?"

"Ah, no thank you." You were quick to refuse. "I couldn't ask that of you. You've done so much already. Don't worry I'll figure it out on my own."

He raised a brow at you, more amused than disbelieved that you'd turn him down for the second time that night. "You were stuck out there for like two whole hours. You really think it's wise to refuse my help right now?"

"One and a half," you corrected. Still, you stood your ground. "And I said I'd figure something out."

"Well, any ideas then?" You opened your mouth to say you'd try the phone once more. "Signal's still bad, so you can cross that out." You pursed your lips, your earlier frustration crawling back in with every word the guy spoke, but he only grinned at you. "I literally own a motorcycle shop. I know engines."

"Motorcycle engines. Engines for motorcycles."

"Very impressive verbal forensic work, Y/N. Really, I applaud you."

You cross your arms. "I don't like your tone."

You're already tired from all the events that have transpired thus far, and the longest bout of social interaction you've had outside of work had to be with him? You aren't fond of the sarcasm lacing his naturally raspy voice. You weren't friends. There's a time and place to appropriately use sarcasm, and this wasn't it.

Shinichiro sighed, hopping off the countertop. "Just let me take a look. You never know, I could pull a thing or two, and you'll be able to get out of here in no time."

Lucky for you, the guy did know engines—car engines. It took a few minutes of him tinkering at the hood of your car and you enduring his smugness, which he didn’t bother hiding much to your dismay, before you were finally able to start your car. The rumbling of your vehicle did wonders to comfort you.

You wanted to pay Shinichiro for his service, but he only brushed you off. “Free of charge, only for you,” he had said with that idiotic smirk of his. And when you insisted, he said, “Why would I charge the beautiful damsel currently wearing my clothes?” The smug bastard.

At that, you straightened up and drove off. Glancing at the rearview mirror, he waved at you, only going back inside his shop once a significant distance separated you both. The next day, you made sure to have someone drop by on your behalf to leave a sealed envelope containing your token of thanks.

You didn't know if he was doing it on purpose or if he was just annoying by nature, but you started seeing him everywhere. You occasionally saw him at your favorite coffee shop, along the sidewalk on your way home, and sometimes you'd even run into him in the most random places you'd never expect to see him at.

It was only when you spotted him walking out of a school with his daughter in hand that you realized that the reason you kept running into each other was because Nina studied at the institution near your workplace.

At first, you paid him no mind, but you were never fully able to avoid him. Every single time, without fail, he'd smile at you so big that his skin would crinkle by his eyes. At times, he'd even throw in some witty remark about how you're following him around. (If anything, you're sure it was the other way around.) He'd even bring up the car incident from not too long ago just to poke fun.

It was almost impossible to ignore Shinichiro, but over time, your days grew to become incomplete without seeing him and hearing what stupid things he has to say to you at least once.

Passing remarks slowly turned into him inviting you to join him and Nina to walks in the park because 'you could use some fresh air' or trips to the nearby ice cream parlor because 'you seem like you need replenishing,' but you always dismissed him because 'I'm busy. Maybe another time.'

Your workload had only gotten heavier the more you proved yourself to be the competent employee that you were, and you took it as a recognition of your talents. You worked even harder. You set more time aside to dedicate to late nights on your desk with an open laptop. Your restlessness was beginning to get to you the more you neglected to cater to your body's nutritional needs, often relying on takeout to fill your empty stomach and sleeping less than the average prescribed hours.

You thought you hid it well in the way you carried yourself in public and tamed all your visible signs of tirelessness, yet the first day Shinichiro handed you a packed lunch with a sticky note with his number and a 'you need to take care of yourself better' on it, you had panicked thinking that your exhaustion was so obvious that all your employees could see through you as well. You texted him then, laying out your concerns on your outward appearance, but he reassured you that you looked 'the same amount of gorgeous every day, maybe even getting more beautiful as the days went'—his words, not yours.

You scolded him then (as best as you could through text) and demanded to be taken seriously.

In his defense, he was quick to comply, telling you he was only able to notice because he knew the signs of overworking himself, but not without including a flirty remark about how he likes to pay attention to you, which you ignored.

After that, it became the norm for Shinichiro to drop by and hand you a homemade meal or something he picked up from the store every once in a while, texting you reminders not unlike the first one he gave you and not without an ounce of flirty undertones. To his delight, you somehow started to entertain and reciprocate them somewhere along the way, and four whole years later, you couldn't be happier to have met him and accepted him the day he confessed to you.

That same day was one he recounted in a long speech, knelt down in front of you with an engagement ring.

Throughout the entire span of your relationship, from start to present, he had been nothing short of perfect. He saw you as you were and still adored you anyway. He appreciated you, made you feel the sense of belongingness that you never fully realized was ever missing in your heart.

He knew you hated the public eye, so instead, he had a private romantic dinner set up in his home. He had the lights dimmed, a couple of candles lit, your favourite dishes, and a large bouquet of roses. He had been the perfect gentleman, pulling your chair back for you to sit and serving you like royalty. He made sure you knew he put a lot of thought, a lot of effort into the occasion he brought upon you, and he made sure to directly tell you that you deserved every ounce of love he poured into your heart whenever you began feeling overwhelmed.

No one had ever managed to make you feel so loved before. There were big, fat tears in your eyes threatening to fall when he ultimately ended his lengthy, emotional whirlwind of a speech with the question: Will you make me the happiest man in the whole universe and marry me?

But you said no.

Shinichiro respected your decision because of course he would, but he wasn't willing to let go of you so easily and to be honest, neither were you. He was willing to wait for you, however long you needed until you were ready to wear the ring that symbolized the depth of his love for you.

You'd forever be grateful for his understanding nature.

You almost regretted it as soon as you declined his proposal. Seeing the downcast, anguished defeat flash in his eyes that he tried to conceal with a poor attempt of a smile was a sight you hated and wished to never see again. You never wanted to be the cause of his pain.

You did your best to provide him comfort that night. It hurt that he just let you hold him thinking it was the last time he'd ever see you again, but in a way, you're glad he even allowed you to touch him at all—even more so when he listened to you and agreed that you both weren't ready to take the next big step.

You just couldn't be wed to a man whose daughter wanted nothing to do with her.

You told him it wouldn't be a "no" forever. It was more of a "not yet" until you improve your relationship with his daughter. But still, the impact of a marriage proposal rejection remained heavy.

But you had to give him props for his unrelenting persistence. In his mind, just because you weren't ready now didn't mean that there wasn't a chance that you would be in the future. Every once in a while, he'd pop the question again—more casually this time. And he took each rejection, every 'not now' with a soft shake of your head, as an opportunity to try again. He wouldn't stop trying until you either said "Yes" or rejected him with a definitive "No." Should you choose to respond with the latter, he'd be entirely crushed, but he'd respect your decision regardless. After all, you were doing it out of concern for his daughter.

Your relationship with Shinichiro was never just between the two of you from the get-go because Nina is, was, and always will be a part of his life. If you ever did marry him, she would be a permanent part of yours.

Personally, you tried to be for her what your mother never was for you. You tried to provide for her as a mother figure, but it seemed that she never accepted anything you did. If anything, she antagonized you, and it hurt you more than anything in the world.

No amount of stress from work could compare to the distress you experienced whenever Nina rejected another one of your attempts to prove yourself to her. For the second time in your life, you were begging to be recognized by someone who it seemed you could never do enough to please.

In the beginning, she would ignore you whenever you visited, whenever you spoke. “Hi, Nina.” She’d look the other way. “How was school today, Nina?” She’d enter a different room. “Are you hungry?” She’d pretend not to hear you. “You need to eat your dinner, Nina.” She’d walk away and act like her stomach wasn’t rumbling.

She grew used to your presence after your one year anniversary with Shinichiro, but things only worsened from there.

You’d receive a nasty glare upon entering a room she’s already in, only for her to slam herself shut in her bedroom. You’d feel small when she starts answering back at you for trying to get her to open up. You’d be faced with tantrums when you try serving her during mealtimes and she’s forced to breathe the same air as you. Sometimes when she’s feeling particularly sour, you’d have to deal with the aftermath of her attempts to sabotage you. You’d find your laptop keyboard soaked in the sticky remnants of juice, the contents of your purse stuck in the crevices of the living room sofa, gum in your hair…

Yet you accepted it all without protest. How could you complain? You weren’t her mother, she wasn’t obligated to like you.

If Shinichiro reprimanded her for her actions, that’s a matter between father and daughter. You had no right to step in like it was your business. You’re reduced to hope that one day, maybe she’ll finally warm up to you.

But that hope was slowly diminishing.

And it terrified you when, one day, Shinichiro came up to you to ask if he could leave Nina in your care while away for business purposes. Something about Mikey and Draken requesting for his assistance in their own bike shop in Manila.

"You're leaving me with that witch?" she had complained to her dad at the airport just before he left. She was so unwilling to let him go even just for a week, which made the idea of marriage into the Sano family all the more discouraging, yet you tried to be understanding nonetheless as it would be the first time in her eight years of life bring away from her dad for more than a day. Not to mention, it would be the longest time she’d be spending in your care. Shinichiro glanced at you apologetically, worry drawing his eyebrows close, but you merely gave him a tight smile. It would be alright. (You hoped.) "But she hates me! Don't leave me with her!"

"Hey, hey, what are you talking about, angel? She doesn't hate you." He bent down to hold her properly, consoling her in hushed whispers.

It felt as though you were nothing but an intruder once again, so instead, you distracted yourself by getting the last of Shinichiro's luggage from the trunk of your car. You made sure to take your time so they could have a proper farewell.

You couldn't help but think what it was that you did that made her hate you and most importantly, what made her think you hated her, because as far as you knew, you were giving nothing less than your absolute one hundred percent in trying to form an emotional connection with her. To understand her, to provide for her, to be there for her. But all she's done is push you away, and you're constantly at a loss as to why.

Were you not caring enough? Were you not sensitive enough to her needs? Were you too suffocating as an outsider? Did you come off too strong or did you not try hard enough?

The cloud of doubt over your head took you back to your youth. For a moment, you weren't the adult version of yourself that moved to Tokyo, became successful in business, and almost got engaged. In that moment, you were once again that little girl who could never be enough. You were that insecure child who never stood up to herself and grew accustomed to being walked over, forgotten in the dark by her own flesh blood because she could never be what they saw in others. You were the little girl who only saw her flaws and everything she didn't have.

The slam of a car door brought you back to reality. Nina had retreated to the backseat of your car. You sighed, closing the trunk.

"You're not gonna cry too are you?" Shinichiro teased, taking his luggage from you. "It's flattering you'd miss me that much, really, but I don't think I could handle both of you crying, no?"

"Ha-ha..." you rolled your eyes as he pulled you in with one arm for a hug, burying his nose in your hair. "If anything, I expected you to cry." You relax against his body, melting at his touch. “But I will miss you. Even if you are pretty damn annoying.”

“Pretty what?”

You could practically make out the grin on his face through the tone of his voice alone. “I said you’re pretty annoying.”

“Mm… all I hear is you calling me pretty, my love.”

“I said no such thing.”

“Okay.” He kissed the top of your head. “But do you think I’m pretty?” You nod. “Ah, but you’re prettier.”

“Like I said. Annoying.”

He laughed, bringing his other arm around to engulf you completely.

Shinichiro's hugs gave you a sense of safety. There's no place more comforting than with his body wrapped around yours. You'd give anything for the moment to last longer, but one glance at your watch and you were forced to push him away so he could catch his flight on time.

"You'll be fine," he declared, setting both palms on your shoulders. When you looked away, he brought up a hand to nudge your chin up. "I'm serious. Think of this as an opportunity to bond with Nina. You never know, maybe she'll finally warm up to you."

You looked at her through the window and there she was, sporting a grumpy pout, sitting with her arms crossed, and stubbornly swiping at stray tears. "Yeah, I doubt that," you huff. The defeat weighing itself onto you already, but you straighten up just as fast as it comes. You straighten his shirt—a habit you picked up through the years—and finish with a pat on his chest. "Anyway, you gotta go like now or you'll miss your flight."

"Alright, alright..." he took a few steps back. But it was a feigned surrender as he quickly sneaked up on you again, stealing an exaggerated smooch complete with a smack of his lips and a mutter of "Last kiss."

He smiled when you laughed at his antics, cupping your face again to kiss you properly this time. "You got this, Y/N. I believe in you." He pecked your forehead before he rummaged through his pockets. "And maybe... when I get back..." He lifted your palm, pressing a kiss to it before the ring he had used to propose to you multiple times with was delicately placed in the middle of it. "Maybe you'll finally be ready to wear this. If I have hope, you should too."

You'd been so lost in your thoughts that you almost forgot who your efforts were all dedicated for. The one who had more faith in you than you did. You really were gonna miss him, even if you would only be apart for a week. You wondered what your life was like without him, already having long forgotten what it was like to be entirely by yourself.

He kissed you one last time, and you watched him retreat past the automatic doors of the airport, waving goodbye a final time before getting into your car. And so began the long week ahead of you.

Getting her settled into your apartment that night was by far the easiest thing you had to handle. She headed straight to your guest bedroom, and you left a plate of food outside the door. Thankfully, you came back a few hours later to find the dish empty. She must have been really tired.

The next day, you made sure to get up earlier than usual to go through your morning routine and start breakfast before waking Nina up for school. You were feeling pretty good about the first night not involving anything brash, and your good mood carried on as you pranced around the kitchen frying eggs and bacon in a pan. You know Shinichiro likes listening to music in the morning, so you made sure to put on his favorite radio station.

You were about to knock on the guest bedroom door when it was harshly swung open. “Good morning, Nina!” You tried, but like always, your attempt was soiled as she stomped past you, still in her pajamas, and into the kitchen. “I know your dad makes you bacon and eggs every morning so I—“ she jerked your pantry open, pulling out a box of cereal and opening a new carton of milk.

Nina scoffs. “You didn’t even put the milk in the fridge?” A rhetorical question, judging from her tone. To be fair you really should have just put it in the fridge when you bought it, but you’ve been so busy with work that you hardly had the time to even restock around the kitchen. Still, the eight-year-old had a point. It took a minute, even less, to just open your fridge and pop it in. You had nothing to say.

She took her bowl of cereal to the sofa in your living room, turning up the volume of your TV that the radio you’d left on could no longer be heard and leaving you alone on your kitchen counter. You figured it was in your best interests to just let her do her thing and sulk over the extra breakfast food you’d prepared for her while you had your own meal. If she didn’t want to eat it, maybe your coworkers would appreciate the treat then.

As soon as she finished, she tossed her used bowl and spoon into the sink with a loud clang, making her way back to her room to dress.

You sighed, putting the dishes away properly and tidying up the state of your living room sofa. There was a stain on one of the cushions from spilled milk, you noted. You’d have to scrub it off later.

You gathered your things and grabbed your keys by the front door. “Time to go, Nina!” Upon hearing no response, you waited a while but then noticed that if you didn’t get going soon, both of you would be late. You called out for her again, but still, nothing.

You approached the door to her room and knocked softly. “Hey, you okay in there? Nina—“

“Fine, I’m here!” She seemed troubled, frustrated even as she opened the door. Her hair was messed up more than it was earlier, and you realized that Shinichiro usually fixes her hair before she went off to school. She must have been struggling, trying to get it done herself. You tried offering your assistance, but you were once again cut off with a sharp “No.”

The glare she gave was menacing. It managed to tell you so many things without having her say it herself. You’re not dad. I don’t like you. I don’t know what my dad even sees in you. Don’t come near me. Don’t touch me. It stung more than it should, it really did. The weight of each message processing through her stare pressed down on your chest, but you prayed your weakness didn’t peek through your demeanor. You took all your pain, your distress, and washed it down in one big exhale—a technique you find that you’ve gotten more and more accustomed to. You clutched the keys in your hand. “Alright. Let’s go.”

She was quiet for most of the ride, only staring either at the road ahead or out the window. In a way, you’re grateful that she isn’t finding any more things to berate you for. You were even nervous to try turning on the radio, afraid it wouldn’t be to her liking, but the silence was so tense, so ominous that your mind was getting more discombobulated by the minute.

“I didn’t have time to prepare a bento for you, I’m sorry.” You glanced sideways at her. You know she can hear you, but you doubt she’s actually listening to a word you say. Pulling out a few bills from your purse, you hand it to her. “Here you go—for your lunch. There’s a little extra in there too, in case you get hungry for snacks.”

She was barreling out the door the minute you pulled up in front of her elementary school. “I’ll pick you up at three!” you hope she heard you.

Unfortunately for Nina, you couldn't take her straight home after school. You’d have to take her back to the office until work hours were officially over. You’d go home on time for the rest of the week though, as you promised yourself you wouldn’t work overtime for Nina’s sake.

You were taken aback when, after a few minutes standing out your car to wait for her, Nina trudged out of the building alone, grabbed your wrist, and dragged you behind her towards your car, keeping her head down all the while. “Whoa, what’s going on?”

“Shut up Y/N, let’s just go. Please.”

She sounded so desperate to leave, it gave you the impression that something might have happened in school today. You set a reminder in your head to try bringing it up later on. You could see that, right now, she just needed to get off of school grounds.

“Nina, hold on!” Nina froze for a millisecond, tugging harder on your wrist only to ultimately be stopped by who you assumed was her teacher. “Hey,” she chuckled. “What’s the rush?” She then noticed you, greeting you with a warm smile and a curt bow. “I’m Ms. Nishimura, Nina’s homeroom teacher. You must be Mrs. Sano?”

“I—“

Nina yanked herself away from you. She curled in on herself, mumbling, “She’s… not my mom.”

Ms. Nishimura immediately backtracked, apologizing for her mistake, but you reassured her that it was okay. You gave Nina your car keys, motioning for her to go wait in the car. She briskly complied without argument.

She looked too uncomfortable standing out there with you and her teacher, but she obviously had something she needed to talk about so you had to stay to entertain it in Shinichiro’s place. You quickly explained to her teacher about your situation—your place in Sanos’ life, who you were to Nina, that she was in your care for the week (though you obviously left out the details about your strained relationship with her indoors).

“So, is Nina doing okay in school? Is there anything I should be concerned about?”

“About that,” Ms. Nishimura pushed up her glasses. “Nina’s a good student—nothing to worry about there. But, there’s a parent-teacher conference coming up this Thursday. Just a sort of annual event with the parents to talk to them about the curriculum, let them know how their child’s doing, etcetera… and I was just a little concerned since Mr. Sano hasn’t gotten back to us with regards to confirming his attendance. I’ve been trying to get Nina to follow him up on the school’s invitation, but you said earlier that he’s out of town so...”

“I see.” You glanced at Nina for a second, catching her fiddling with her fingers and staring at her lap. This must have put her in an awkward spot with her teacher who didn’t know about situation until you explained it. You tried to recall your schedule for this Thursday, scanning through the things you had allotted that day for before saying, “I’ll go. I can attend the parent-teacher thing in Shinichiro’s place.”

This evidently relieved Ms. Nishimura of the pressure on her shoulders. “Oh, thank god! That was the last response we needed from Nina’s grade, so thank you. I look forward to seeing you on Thursday then Ms. Y/L/N!”

Every day after school, Nina would stay in your office, completing homework and sometimes wandering around to relieve herself from boredom. Your coworkers loved her presence, judging from the way everyone would be all-smiles when greeting her in the hallways. Nina would also be included whenever someone decided to bring everyone a treat—which became a more common occurrence throughout the week that she was there. Because of this, you didn’t need to worry about her so much as you bustled around the building fulfilling your duties, knowing that Nina’s a smart kid and that your coworkers would keep an eye on her for you when you couldn’t.

She wasn’t too hard on you either during office hours. You’re sure it had something to do with being in a foreign environment where adults ran to and fro, but as the days passed and the more she adjusted to the new setting, her complaints grew. She’d complain when she was hungry, when she was bored, when she was longing to go home—all understandable on her part. One thing you were thankful for was that she never threw tantrums in front of your coworkers, choosing to let out her distress within the privacy of your office. Sure, you had to find a way to quiet her whines and sometimes deal with her grumbles, but you had faith in yourself that you’d find a way whenever the occasion arrived.

“Y/N. I wanna go home!” She stood before your desk where you were typing away on a keyboard. She was already carrying all her things, prepared to take off at any minute and fully expecting you to do the same.

You glanced at the time at the corner of your screen. “Just a few more minutes, baby.”

“Don’t call me that! And I wanna go home now!”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. Then your phone began to ring.

One look at the name flashing onscreen and you slid the device over to Nina. "It's your dad."

She lit up so fast at that, grabbing your phone and happily chatting away with him.

Thursday came faster than you could blink.

You managed to clear your schedule for the rest of the day after 3 PM, and after agreeing with yourself that you wouldn't pick up any work-related calls past that hour, you found yourself being toured around Nina's elementary school campus and chatting with her teachers about her academic performance.

It filled you with pride knowing that she was excelling in her subjects. You took mental notes of each remark her teachers said about her, determined to fill Shinichiro in about it tonight over video call. If you were already swelling with pride, just imagine the look on his face once he hears about his little girl's teachers' impressions and comments of praise.

The conference went by pretty smoothly until you were pulled aside towards the end of it by the same homeroom teacher you'd met the other day.

Ms. Nishimura lead you to a bench outside so that you could have a more private chat. She prefaced whatever she needed to say with a greeting, happy to see you again, and then she went into the only detail of concern she'd picked up from seeing Nina every day. "I noticed that she doesn't really get along with the other kids. I know that she has a few friends, but she doesn't really have a group that she normally goes along with, if you get what I mean?" You nodded. "I'm just worried since it's her second year of elementary school, you know? I don't think it's best for her to be spending her school life without friends..."

It's also something you'd noticed within the short span of time it took to drop her off and pick her up. She would always be walking alone, head turned down to watch her feet move as she walked. It did concern you a bit, but hearing it from her teacher this time made you frown all the more.

"Maybe if—"

"Go away!"

"No one wants to be your friend because your mom left you!"

"You must have done something really bad for that to happen!"

You and Ms. Nishimura were alarmed to hear something like that come from what sounded like a child's mouth. Immediately, you both followed the source of the ruckus just behind the school's main building. You made it just in time to see some kid pushing Nina onto the rough ground.

"Hey!" You shouted at the bullies. Ms. Nishimura took on the responsibility of scolding the students and calling their parents who were still inside the school.

Rushing over to Nina's side, you tried to check her for injuries, catching sight of a red mark on her cheekbone before she jerked her head away from you, hanging her head in shame yet unwilling to let her guard down. "Get away from me!" She stood up on wobbly legs, pushing you away when you tried to assist her.

You gave her your car keys. "Here. You can wait for me in the car. At least let me handle this, okay?"

She wordlessly took it from your hand, and you took note of the little scrapes on her palms. You put on the face you used during business deals, fully determined to have a solid talk with those other kids' parents.

Once you got back to your apartment, you went straight to finding an ice pack and your first aid kit. Opening the door to Nina's room, you found her sitting at the edge of her bed staring into space. You knelt down beside her, bringing up the ice pack to her cheekbone, but she flinched from your touch. "Leave me alone."

"I'm just trying to help you, Nina."

"I said leave me alone! I don't want your help!" She hid under the covers, curling up into a ball.

You sighed. "About what that kid was saying earlier, it's not your fault you know?"

You could barely hear her muffled words but there was one phrase you caught clearly: Stop pretending like you care... and she sounded like she was holding back tears.

"Stop pretending... like I care? Nina, I— What are you talking about?"

"Don't act like you don't know!"

"But I really don't! If you would just help me understand—"

"Just stop!"

"I—"

"No! You're not my mom, so stop acting like you care about me and dad. You're just going to leave us the same way she did! I know dad keeps asking you to marry him, so just go already if you're going to keep saying no to him!"

She was full-on sobbing at this point, tears running down her cheeks in waterfalls and snot dribbling down her nose. You knew from the get-go that she had a lot on her plate even as a mere eight-year-old, but what you didn’t know was that she carried the weight of her troubles on her shoulders. You realize now that you failed to see how she was just like you. Afraid.

Afraid that everyone would be the same.

It all made sense now, looking back:

You’d receive a nasty glare upon entering a room she’s already in, only for her to slam herself shut in her bedroom. You’d feel small when she starts answering back at you for trying to get her to open up. You’d be faced with tantrums when you try serving her during mealtimes and she’s forced to breathe the same air as you. Sometimes when she’s feeling particularly sour, you’d have to deal with the aftermath of her attempts to sabotage you. You’d find your laptop keyboard soaked in the sticky remnants of juice, the contents of your purse stuck in the crevices of the living room sofa, gum in your hair…

All because she wanted to push you away. She was scared of letting you into their lives only for you to leave and never come back, so instead she tried to speed up the process to save both herself and her dad from the pain of having you walk out—that was what she wanted to do, you understood that now. "You think I'm gonna leave... Is that why you hate me so much?" You set down the ice pack on the bedside table.

"Huh?” She hiccuped, rubbing at her wet eyes. “I don't hate you..."

How ironic. “Well, I thought you did,” you chuckled, kneeling down by the bed where she sat. You spoke in soft tones. "I haven't said yes to your dad because I didn't want to force myself into your life like that.” And it was true. It would have been greatly unfair to have her be the one to adjust when you would be the new person in their family. You reached out a hand, testing the waters to see if she would move away from you again. You fully expected that she would but…

She didn’t.

Not having her avoid you like you had the plague for the first time in the four years you've known her was a feeling you don’t think you’d ever forget from here on out. Your first success. The first time your relationship with Nina didn’t seem like a hopeless case. The overwhelming feeling of finally having taken a step—a big step, it felt like—in the right direction with her was enough to bring tears up to your eyes. You gently cupped her face, and upon feeling the weight of her head in your palm, you smiled. “I couldn't do that to you."

She tried to speak through her hiccups and sniffles, but you hushed her.

"If you'll let me, I don't plan to leave you or your dad—both of you.” She gripped the sheets so hard, her knuckles were turning white. You were slightly nervous that she’d lash out, but you held onto the moment you two were currently sharing, making the most of it as much as you can so that while you were able to see where she was coming from, she would hopefully also see you. “In a way, you're kind of right, you know? I'm not like your biological mom because unlike her, I'm not going anywhere."

And at that, Nina launched herself against your body, wrapping her smaller arms tightly around your body. You embraced her just as tightly—maybe even more. You tried soothing her as she cried harder, rubbing your hand up and down her back and combing your fingers through her hair. At one point, you kissed her head, and she gripped onto you even tighter.

That night, she refused to let go of you and you slept with her in the guest bedroom, only being able to convince her that you both had to get cleaned up before she attached herself onto you again. She clung onto you the entire night, never once daring to let go. "Can I not go to school tomorrow?" she had meekly asked you before she fell asleep.

You kissed her hair. "I'll take the day off, too. We can spend the entire day at home if you want." She nodded. She deserved to rest after all that happened today, and who knows for how long she's been experiencing that from her classmates without anyone knowing.

The next day, she woke up before you did, shyly asking if she could help you cook bacon and eggs the way she and her dad did every morning. When you agreed, she built up her confidence little by little. She demonstrated how her dad would let her be the one to crack the eggs into the pan, imitating his exaggerated exclaims of oh no! every time a shell fell into the mixture. She had you turn on the radio and told you which songs were their favorite ones to sing along to, even dancing around a little bit. She showed you her favorite TV shows, she introduced you to the stuffed toy she brought with her to your apartment, she told you embarrassing stories about Shinichiro...

And to meet her halfway, you showed her some things you liked to do as well. You both lounged in your pajamas and robes (you let her borrow one of your old, nice ones), told her the stories behind the photos of you and her father on your phone, ordered food from restaurants you knew that she would enjoy.

It was the first day in so long that you felt that you could completely relax, and from what you could tell, it was the same for her. You've never seen her smile so big or laugh so hard before.

That night, while you were doing your skincare routine, you had her try out some of your favourite products. You both giggled at each other's bubbly faces while you applied your cleanser, and she was fascinated by the array of face masks you presented her with.

You had her lay in your lap as you massaged the serum of one of the sheet masks into her face. "Are you gonna marry my dad now?" She had her eyes closed, out of relaxation or fear for your answer—you didn't know.

But you smiled, remembering the ring that Shinichiro left you with because your final answer would be nothing less than, "Yes."

You gently guided her off your lap before you stood up to go fetch the engagement ring.

"Y/N?"

You recalled what Shinichiro told you that day at the airport.

"Maybe... when I get back..." He lifted your palm, pressing a kiss to it before the ring he had used to propose to you multiple times with was delicately placed in the middle of it. "Maybe you'll finally be ready to wear this."

You were sure now. You're ready. When you came back into the room with Nina, she watched you slip the ring onto your finger with such wonder. You had to talk her into keeping it a surprise for her dad, though.

And though he didn't cry before he left, there were tears that escaped him when he came back, seeing both you and his daughter in such a new light and—what's more—spotting the twinkling of the engagement ring he left you with sitting comfortably on your ring finger and finally ready to take the next step.

all rights reserved © smolla-than-a-bug, 2021. please do not copy or repost my works. reblogs/feedback/comments are appreciated!

notes — extra: wfm!shin as a dad hcs !

tokyo revengers taglist — @victoirerambles

[faffreux]

how did you fall in love with fawful? when did you realize you loved him? /gen

So I've been trying to type an answer to this for 20 minutes now, no joke. But at some point I realized I was going on a tangent and had literally typed out an entire draft for the first chapter of the essay about this that I want to write so I think those words are better saved for when they may eventually come about, LOL.

It's a complicated story. I don't say that lightly - I'm serious. There's just a lot to it and it's hard to sum up as a result.

But I'll just tell you that there was 7 years of my life where I felt as if I'd never really draw again and like I'd completely lost the confidence for what was once my favorite thing in the world. I went through those seven years BARELY picking up a pencil. I didn't create hardly at all compared to when I was much younger.

On January 1st, 2020 I sat in my room with a pencil and piece of notebook paper in my hands and through tears I said aloud: "I just want to draw again. I don't care what it is... I don't care what comes out. Just... anything. Anyone. Please. I want it to feel like it did before." And in frustration I put my pencil to paper and the first thing that appeared was a familiar face I hadn't seen nor thought of in almost the same amount of time as it had been since I felt my art go missing.

In that moment my pencil seemed to become one of these:

Something sparked in my head again - some part of me I truly felt like I'd lost forever. The first thing I did immediately after that was go online and order both Superstar Saga and Bowser's Inside Story so I could play them again since I hadn’t since 2010.

I played through SSS first and had a bLAST. WOW, I missed this game!! Fawful made me giggle - he was just as entertaining as I remembered him.

Then I played BIS... and uh.................... we'll just say you're talking to somebody who had never experienced a legitimate crush in his entire life prior and suddenly felt his cheeks turn hot at the sight of this bean dancing on the lit stage of the Fawful Theatre. My roommate looked over and asked me from across the room: "Why are you so red? Are you okay?"

And the rest is history.

Everything truly blossomed later on when he began showing up in my dreams and I continued to deepen the love I felt through the art I was finally able to create again. 

While I originally created Jolligig completely separate from Fawful, he eventually became the channel I used to express and project the joy and adoration I felt for him. But I LOVE the life he’s taken on since then!! And how excited I STILL AM ABOUT ALL OF THIS.