#Although certainly with less ease

[starry-songs-canvas]

Saving the Spare

I was reading a couple time travel batfam fics and had this cool idea. Hope ya’ll enjoy!

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Thrown back in time before Damian joined the Wayne’s, he tried to make the most of it. Now Damian’s backstory was incredibly messed up, but this…

“Talia’s started cloning Damian already?!?!?”

The clone with blue eyes looked back in confusion, shock, and anger,

“I am not Damian’s clone, I am the other half of the Demon Twins, you— you— fruitcake!”

Oh.

Oh.

[actual-changeling]

I wrote a little something inspired by the latest chapter from the wonderful oopsie!omens AU @asleepyy is writing. Definitely check out their comic here and leave some love!

-

They run into each other by chance, which carries a certain irony considering Jophiel has actively been looking for him. It is a small settlement, large enough to have a sprawling market filled with voices and movement, but not the kind of place he'd expect Azazel to be. Still, if the universe wills it so, he is certainly not going to question it.

Regardless of the circumstances, the demon seems to continuously hold back an ocean of anxiety, wave after wave crashing on the rocky shores and spilling over, and today is no different. He is pressed against a stone wall at the edge of the square, the shade providing both some escape from the flickering heat and cover, keeping him hidden and inconspicuous.

Jophiel strolls through the crowd, weaving around the humans with practiced ease and picking up a ripe pomegranate from one of the stands; he pays and leaves a generous tip. Well, and he blesses the woman's sick daughter simply because he can.

By the time he has reached Azazel's spot, he has long seen him coming, wringing his hands and biting his lip bloody, which he silently takes in with a frown.

"Jophiel," he greets, his eyes wide and black as always, although at least his robe seems less tattered and more put-together than the last time they had seen each other.

"Azazel. Fruit?"

Freezing on the spot, his gaze rapidly switches between the stretched-out hand and Jophiel's face, who smiles with all the holy patience he can muster, the Metatron's words cutting thorns in the back of his throat.

"I- I've never actually..." Azazel gulps, nervous, yes, but there's an undercurrent of excitement to it, too.

Jophiel leans back against the wall, crossing his feet at the ankle and breaking the pomegranate open in an infinitesimal display of celestial power. Thin splashes of red juice wet his hands and run down his wrists, and he feels Azazel's attention heavy but not unwelcome on his skin when he lifts his arm to lick it off. A mild breeze ruffles their hair, red and white locks alike, and their fingers brush when Azazel reaches out to take his half.

"Thank you."

Pure gratitude laces his words, and they both know it is for more than the fruit. The Metatron, he decides as he watches Azazel carefully plug seed after seed out of its white shell, might be God's voice in heaven, but not here on earth. Otherwise, he would see his fragile smile and nervous ticks, hear the accidental admissions of faith and kindness, and know that there had been a mistake.

They eat in amicable silence, the noises of life and warmth flowing together into one, and while Azazel watches the crowds, Jophiel watches him.

I promise you I will fix this, he swears, and then, because the sparks of anger and dismay have yet to die and turn to ash, he speaks a prayer—a warning.

Azazel has more faith than your 'voice' does, God, and either you will take him back willingly or I will find a way to make you.

[b-o-e]

Welcome Home love language head canons :)

surprise!

Wally

Giving: words of affirmation

Wally is good with his words when he is sure about something. This comes into effect when it comes to talking about his feelings for you! He is quite poetic when he wants to be. Words flow off his tongue as smoothly as butter, singing sweet songs of praise and lines of love to you. He could woo you with ease. He likes it when you get a little shy, looking to the side. He likes it even more when he gets to see the flustered look on your face when he directs your attention back to him. 

“My, don’t you look stunning tonight,” Wally studied your appearance with nothing less than a look of pure awe. You smiled, cheeks turning pink at the attention.

“I could say the same to you, Mr. Darling,” you joked lightly, looking to the side to hide your embarrassment. Only moments later, his forefinger was under your chin, gently tilting your head to make your gaze meet with his once more.

“Hmm… that colour really brings out your eyes,” he murmured sweetly, his face mere inches from your own. Your cheeks burned as you gaped slightly at the close proximity, frozen in surprise before you ducked your head down to hide in the crook of his neck.

“You’re such a tease and you know it,” you grumbled, well aware he was embarrassing you on purpose.

“Ha ha ha, I can’t resist. You know I mean every word I say to you, my love.”

Receiving: quality time, physical affection

Wally loves spending time with you, no matter what it may be that you are doing. If the two of you are having a picnic, if you keep him company while he is painting, if you go for a walk with him, he loves it. Especially if you talk! He loves to listen, and to make conversation in return, too. Overall, anything and everything. Even though he doesn’t sleep himself, he quite enjoys sleep overs! It brings him comfort and content to know that you’re simply there, spending time with him. He just really finds peace in having your presence around. Something he’s a bit more shy about is physical touch. Although he isn’t super used to it, he loves to be held. He likes your hugs (despite usually having a hard time returning it), your arms around his waist, your head against his chest or stomach, your lips pecking his cheek, your hands gently cradled in his, your thumbs brushing against his face…  he simply loves to feel your touch.

Howdy

Giving: physical affection

Howdy has four arms. You already know that he is the best hugger in the town! He loves to wrap you up in his embrace. An absolute cuddle bug, no doubt about it! No matter what, if you two are near each other, at least one of his hands are probably on you. Resting on your hip, holding your hand, pressing against the small of your back, sat on top of your head… always! He is certainly partial to having you in his arms, though. You’re bound to feel safe and secure within them.

Receiving: physical affection/acts of service

As said before, physical affection! He just loves it! Anything! Hugs! Hand holding! Kisses! CUDDLES! He loves it all, as long as he gets to feel your touch! Along with this, Howdy loves it when you do things for him, completely unprompted. Helping out with stock, sweeping up a mess on the floor, letting someone know where the item they’re looking for is when he’s busy with something else? Even though he feels bad about it when you do (he makes sure to reward you!), it means so much to him that you're so willing to do him a favour. How thoughtful of you!

“Oh, shucks. You didn’t have to do that for me, bug!” Howdy said. His arm hooked around your waist, carefully bringing you closer. “You treat me so well, don’t you?” he hummed with a smile.

“You know that it’s nothing, no big deal at all,” you chuckled, leaning into his chest.

“No matter how big or small the favour, it doesn't mean any less to me. Thank you, bug,”

“You’re very welcome, big guy,” you giggled.

“Now,” one of Howdy’s sets of arms wrapped fully around your waist, his lower hands finding the bends of your knees. He picked you up, holding you against him as he grinned down at you.

“I could go for some cuddle time, snuggle bug! How about that?”

Barnaby

Giving: physical affection

Another snuggler! Barnaby is #2 when it comes to the best hugs in the neighbourhood. His big, fluffy, warm arms are around you every chance he gets! Sometimes, he likes to be a bit of a tease and use your head as an armrest. The moment you’d like him to stop, don’t worry! You don’t need to tell him twice. Barnaby loves scooping you right up into his warm embrace! You are 100% his teddy bear when it’s time for an afternoon nap. Good luck getting out after he falls asleep!

“Ah, would’ja look what we’ve got here?” Barnaby’s voice came from behind you. Big blue arms snaked around your waist, lifting you right off of the ground.

“B!” you tried to push his arms away, to no avail. “I was talking to Sal and Jules,” you whined, said neighbours of yours laughing as you squirmed in the inescapable embrace. Barnaby yawned dramatically, one arm leaving your body to cover his mouth. You were basically being held like a football, now!

“Thanks for findin’ my teddy, you two! Means the world. I’m sure we’ll see ya around, yeah?” he waved at Sally and Julie, who giggled as you accepted your fate. Barnaby chuckled a little as you went limp, headed to his house. “I could use a nice nap out on the hammock, y’know? How’s that sound, bear?”

“You’re a pain in my rear, B.”

“Awe. I love ya too, toots!”

Receiving: words of affirmation

Barnaby is a funny guy who is always trying to make those around him feel happy, but sometimes, he can get pretty self conscious. Was he being too loud? Was he coming off as too lighthearted? Was he being funny enough? Was he being annoying? It brings with great relief when you put these worries of his at ease. When you laugh at his jokes and tell him how funny they were, when you assure him that you know he cares, when you take him seriously while others only see him as a joke? It simply means so very much to the big ol’ dog. When you cheer him up after he’s been feeling down, you can bet you’ll be getting loving snuggles for days!

Eddie

Giving: words of affirmation

This southern man is full of pure southern charm, whether it be intentional or not! He is a sweet talker, naturally so, always so incredibly kind to you and those around. You will hear constant compliments from the mailman, such high praise, and so much reassurance! He gives you a confidence boost for sure.

“Why, to what do I owe the pleasure of stumblin’ among this pretty little peach on such a fine day?” Eddie leaned against the fence in your front yard.

“Good morning to you too, Eddie,” you chuckled, cheeks pinkening. 

“Good morning, sugar,” he smiled in return. “How goes it today, hun? You’re lookin’ gorgeous this mornin’,”

“Eddie, I literally just rolled out of bed,” you snickered, straightening up his crooked hat for him. He must have taken a stumble. Nonetheless, he leaned over and pecked your forehead.

“I said what I said,” he grinned.

Receiving: acts of service, words of adfirmtatiojn 

Eddie is forgetful, that is no secret at all. He always tends to accidentally leave something behind. His hat, a letter or package meant to be delivered, pens, so many things! When you remind him or bring them to him, he is so thankful! Another thing well known about Eddie is that he is quite the klutz! Although most times he manages to catch himself, he does occasionally trip and get hurt. When you gladly help him out with his injuries, he falls in love with you just a little more. Especially if you kiss it better! Sometimes, he gets pretty bashful about it. When you tell him you don't mind one bit and that you’re willing to go above and beyond for anything he needs, his heart flutters with joy!

Frank

Giving: quality time

Frank can be very quiet and reserved, keeping to himself. He enjoys his quiet time, but even more so, he enjoys his quiet time spent with you! He appreciates someone that he can spend time with little to no words shared at all, or a whole lot of them if you’re willing to listen to his rambles, so if you feel the same, he greatly appreciates your company. He often seeks you out for your presence in these cases. When you are doing something together, chances are, he will tell you some of his favourite facts about the butterflies around, the subject of the book you are reading, etcetera! He thinks that you are neat, so will tell you and teach you about this neat stuff to express his feelings toward you.

“At first, this butterfly may appear to be a monarch. Although, if you take a closer look, you can notice this line on the hind wing, which means that it is not actually a monarch, but a viceroy butterfly instead,”

You and Frank sat side by side, a book open between you. You two were in the garden, backs against a tree, watching for any cool insects that came to check out the plants.

“Is there a reason why they look so much alike?”

“Well, monarchs are poisonous to eat because of a toxin in milkweed they consume when young. Their appearance allows predators to know they’re not for eating. Viceroy’s copy this appearance to keep safe from predators as well,”

“Is there anything you don’t know about butterflies?” You chuckled, peeking at him.

“There’s always more to learn,” He smiled. You smiled back, shaking your head in amusement. 

“I like it when you teach me. you describe things better than any book ever could,” you told him. His cheeks reddened, and he shifted his position slightly. 

“I like teaching you. It makes me happy that you’re so willing to listen. I know I’m quite ‘nerdy’, Julie tends to make a point of reminding me, so it’s nice to have someone who shares the same appreciation towards things like this as myself,” Frank admitted, plucking at some grass. “Basically, what I’m trying to say… thank you. I appreciate it, a lot,”

“You’re more than welcome, Frank,”

Receiving: gift giving, quality time

A new book? For him? About his favourite subject at the moment? You bet he is jumping with joy, cheeks flushed and a smile on his face! He’s so happy! A new butterfly net, after his last one broke? (darn it, Julie!) Wow! You just always know how to make his day. Along with this, Frank enjoys spending time alone to unravel sometimes. With you, though, he enjoys it a lot as well. When you come over, a book in hand, sitting down next to him and quietly reading with him? He loves moments like those.

Julie

Giving: physical affection, acts of service

Julie loves, loves, loves, hugs! Any moment they get, their arms are wrapped around you! If you two are walking together, you can bet that her hand is in yours or your arms are interlocked. She likes to run errands both for you or with you, as well! Oh, you want a snack from Howdy’s? She’ll come along with you to keep you company! You’re not feeling well? Don’t worry! They’ll go fetch you some soup from Poppy! You are their favourite person, they’re more than willing to do whatever you need.

Receiving: physical affection

Julie likes receiving hugs and such as much as giving them! Sometimes, they’re a little nervous that they’re being a little too clingy, too touchy. When you return her acts of affection though, she is reassured that you aren’t feeling this way! Either way, if you simply told her, she would understand and tone it down a notch. Anything to make sure you’re comfortable! Another thing that they like is if you play with their hair! Run your hands through it, put it up for them, braid it, whatever you feel like! It’s one of their most favourite feelings in the world.

“Can you play with my hair, please?” Julie leaned towards you, flashing you the classic puppy eyes. “I need some help with brushing it!” She claimed, holding a brush out towards you. With a light hearted sigh of amusement, you took the brush from her, sitting down with a smile.

“C’mere,” you patted the space between your legs. She gladly plopped right down, getting comfy as you started on her hair, beginning at the ends.

“Thank you!” She said, chipper and happy that you complied. You slowly dragged the brush through her hair, fingers following behind, carefully untangling any little knots.

“You’re very welcome,” you smiled, noticing how much her body relaxed into yours. She basically melted under your touch, sinking back against you. “You really do like this, don’t you?” you snickered softly.

“I really do,” she admitted shamelessly, grinning. “I can’t help it! It feels so nice and calming. Plus it gives me an excuse to spend more time with you!" she added. "Reminds me of when I was a kid as well,” she released a soft sigh, seeming to think back to when her siblings used to help with her hair.

“Yeah, I get that,” you smiled, knowing she missed them sometimes. “I don’t mind at all. I enjoy it,”

Poppy

Giving: gift giving/acts of service

Poppy is a gift giver and a favour doing. She loves it! Baking your favourite treats for you, quilting a cute new blanket for your couch, crocheting a comfy sweater for you, everything of that sort! Definitely her favourite thing to do. She loves those activities on their own, even more so with the intent of gifting them to her fellow neighbours, and even more so with the intent of gifting them to you!

“Oh, good mornin’, hun!” Poppy exclaimed, pleased to see you at her barn. “I didn’t expect you to stop by today. I’m glad, though. I was actually just finishing up some baked goods for you,” she ushered you in with a smile.

“Poppy! You didn’t need to,” you returned the smile with ease. Everything she did tended to put one on your face, afterall. 

“You know I love to, though. It keeps me busy, gives me something to do! A break from all the chaos the others always seem to get up to. Goodness, some days I feel they’ll give me a heart attack!” She held her feathered arm over her chest for emphasis.

“I certainly understand that,” you agreed with a chuckle. “Thank you, Poppy.”

Receiving: acts of service

Now, despite enjoying doing things for you all the time and seeing it as no big deal, the moment you do something for her, she's so flustered! You didn’t need to do that for her! It’s strange having the roles switched, but she does find the feeling very pleasant. She knows that the things she does are done out of love, so having things done for her in a similar way just warms her heart.

Sally

Giving: words of affirmation

Sally loves to give you compliments! How nice you look, how good your performance was, how much it means to her for you to help her with her plays, so many things! Sweet words are always spilling from her mouth! She likes to see how flustered she can make you, sometimes. You look so cute!

Receiving: quality time/gifts

Sally loves it when you spend time with her, especially when she is rehearsing for one of her plays! Say the lines with her, she appreciates it an extra bit! She always puts on her best performance when you are around. You bring her confidence and energy. When you come and watch her neighbourhood plays, she’s so happy seeing you in the crowd! If you volunteer to play a role in it? OH MY GOSH!!! Gives an extra good excuse to spend more time with you, too!

“Sally!” You called out after a show, catching the (literal) stars' attention. Her face (literally ;) ) lit up at the sight of you, rushing over to talk. 

“Hi! Did you like the show? How did I look? I made a mistake in that first scene, but I think I covered it up alright!”

“You did amazing,” you smiled, “so amazing, that I brought you these!” You removed your hands from behind your back, presenting a small bouquet of flowers to her. Her eyes widened in surprise, cheeks going red.

“Goodness, aren’t those pretty! You are just the sweetest to me,” she gave you a bright grin, examining the flowers. 

“You deserve it,” you replied.

this took forever, but in honour of the update, i decided to finally finish it to post! hi! it's been awhile, haha! if you saw my absolutely butchered spelling in eddie's, yes, i know it's bad. i don't know what was wrong with my spelling that day but i just noticed it again while getting this ready and had a little laugh! maybe you did too! now! i will probably disappear for another period of time, haha! i hope you enjoyed this different post of mine, and i will see you soon! i am also going to go through some old inbox messages! feel free to leave one at any time, i always love to hear your thoughts and talk to you, and i always check them! here is a link to my silly lil wally fics in their recommended order if you would like :) a howdy fic, as well! these can also be found on my ao3 B) I also have a ko-fi if you'd like to support me!

likes and reblogs are extremely appreciated! farewell, for now!

Posted Monday, July 25, 2023 at 2:45 PM

[heartpiratedrabbles]

His True Self Part 2

Part 1 ~~ Part 3

Sabo X Fem Reader

Koala was over the moon when she found out that Sabo finally confessed to you, and she was laughing hysterically when she found out it was by mistake, claiming that his face must have been amazing. She was disappointed to learn of the fact three months after it happened. Regardless though, she was now helping you pick out an outfit for meeting someone important in Sabo’s life.  

Koala had explained it to be like a parental figure which amused you. Most revolutionaries have found family, but very few had parental figures. Even you had been an orphan for a while and thinking towards how your boyfriend acts, you thought he had been one as well. Never bringing up someone who had taken care of him while growing up before.

Although you guess he has been here since he was a child, it’s no wonder how he rose the ranks ‘quickly’ when he’s been here for so long, and someone must have taken care of him. You mind wanders to who it could be and while all the top positions flashed through your mind you couldn’t see any of them taken on the burden of watching a kid.

“Tell me Koala, it’s not Iva right?” the only ‘reasonable’ suggestion you could even think of as they took long breaks to go back to Kamabakka Kingdom. Still, you couldn’t see the drag queen, who was open to all, opening their arms to a child to watch.

Koala burst out laughing, tears brimming her eyes, “No, although they did ‘babysit’ Sabo and I when no one wanted us to wander. If you want to call it that.”

~~~

         “Are you ready Y/N?” Sabo leaned down to ask as he looped and arm around yours. He had met you at your room, deciding to lead you to where you were meeting his benefactor.

         “I must be honest, I am a little nervous…” You chuckle out trying to ease your nerves, “How will I look to them? I never thought I’d be meeting anyone’s equivalent to a parent.” The thought had ran through your mind when you were younger, meeting your lovers family and getting along with them. But as time had progressed you had given up on meeting someone, much less being welcomed into such a homey environment.

         The revolutionary army was as close as you’d get to a family was what you thought after you joined, and then Sabo exceeded you expectations and now this. It was a little much for you to accept so quickly, “Please, They already like you. We’ve been dating for months now, it’s only proper that I introduce you two formally.” The excited look he gave you made your heart flutter a bit.

         You approached the room, rather farther from most you had noticed. You had been walking for about five minutes before getting there and the smile of Sabo’s face was enough to calm your nerves as he knocked on the door before letting himself in, pulling you with him.

         You tense up a bit as you enter, expecting to see someone you maybe haven’t met yet, but what you weren’t expecting was the Commander Dragon himself. He was sat at a table, towards the door with his hands crossed in front of him. “Dragon! I’d like you to meet my girlfriend, Y/N. Y/N, please meet Dragon!” Sabo between the two of you as you made eye contact with Dragon.

         Both of you blinked a bit, it seems as though both of you had not been expecting this. Dragon lets a small sigh out first before shooting a glance at Sabo, “I thought you meant someone I didn’t know.” His shoulders relaxed a bit before looking back towards you, “It seems he got you wrapped around his finger as well Y/N.” The slight laugh coming from him surprised you as heard Sabo joining in on the chuckling.

         “Hmm? What? Wait. What?” You mind was still reeling a bit as Sabo led you to a chair with the biggest shit-eating grin on his face. Out of everyone you could have expected to meet it certainly wasn’t him.

         After an awkward beginning and light conversation, you and Dragon had finally started joking about Sabo here and there to ease up to mood. It’s when Sabo gets up to grab something that Dragon looks at you, “Well, how about we talk about sending you out on a mission soon?” You gleefully fill the room with chatter as he talks about a couple of missions to retrieve something from near by islands, none would take longer than a week or so.

         You smiled brightly while talking about what your mission could be when Sabo walks back in, seemingly un aware of what was happening. Placing a bottle of wine of the table as he goes behind you, both his hands on your shoulders, “What are you two talking about?” He leans down to give your cheek a kiss, unbeknownst to you he was also shooting a glare towards Dragon.

         “We were just going over the details of my first mission coming up,” You smile up at him, turning your head to receive a kiss on the lip. You feel his grasp on your shoulders tighten and he pulls away from you with a worried look.

         “What if you get hurt? You haven’t been attending training regularly in a while now, you may be more prone to injuries.” His logic and voice dripping with concern hit you hard. You have been so busy recently that you’d only be able to go out and train about once a week, and you have been leaving the office each night more tired than usual. “I’m just worried that you may not be prepared.” His hands slide down your arms before wrapping around you fully, squeezing. “I’m sure Dragon agrees. He doesn’t want you to push yourself too thin.”

         You glance over at Dragon who seems to be staring at Sabo with an unreadable expression, his gaze softening slightly after making eye contact with you, “Of course, Y/N. You should be at your top performance before heading out on a mission.”

You bring a hand up to Sabo’s arm still wrapped around you, rubbing it slightly in disappointment. “How about you join me on my next mission next month if you wrack up the energy again?” Sabo’s suggestion rings through your ears before looking at Dragon to see his input.

The scornful look on his face is hidden quickly as he looks back to you, saying if you agree to it than there’s nothing he can do. “You won’t worry to much if I’m near you I guess,” You smile up at him accepting the compromise. It had been a sore subject over all through out the relationship, it’d be at least once a week that you’d bring up wanting to be out on the field, each time he’d convince you, that you weren’t ready quite yet, not strong enough, not having enough energy. You were more than happy to listen to his demand if it meant he was trusting you to finally go outside headquarters.

~~~

         You were more than excited about the upcoming mission, but you still had to focus on the word at hand. Apparently a hot shot pirate was caught and is too be executed at Marine Headquarters and everybody was making a huge deal about it. You read about pirates from time to time, but unless they crossed into the revolutionary territory you didn’t pay them much mind.

         This one on the other hand was causing quite a bit more commotion, the second commander of the White Beard Pirates and apparently the son of Gol. D Roger. No doubt it was going to shake the world, but that would be another persons problem. Your problem was that Ivankov had gotten captured and was now in Impel Down.

         The impenetrable prison was not a joke and to try and get him out was a heavy task. Dragon had all but given up, asking you to look into anyway to get him out but not pushing you to overwork. Everything you looked into was a risky notion, you’d have to contact more people, plan accordingly and expect casualties. It wasn’t what you wanted, but Iva was a big part of the Revolutionaries, to lose them would be a hard blow to the organization.

         That is until we got word that Iva had gotten free, with the help of a rookie pirate. Dragon started to watch what was happening more closely as you sat in the same room. Sabo was out with Koala and should be back by tomorrow, so for now you were with Dragon, sitting in silence as you watched a war unfold.

         The marines had been prepared for resistance, hundreds of pirates gathering to stop an execution and now even Iva had flown in with plenty of other escapees. The blood drained from your face as updates came in, why would they decide to join in such a battle that had little likely hood of success. Dragon seemed anxious but you didn’t question it, plenty of people were about to die and it’s not something either of you would be thrilled about.

         You job of planning a breakout for Iva long forgotten as the both of you watched on, mentally preparing for the worst. And that’s when it’s announced that the rookie pirate who had helped Iva escaped, wearing a characteristic Straw Hat, was Dragon’s son. You looked over at Dragon who still didn’t show any emotion but you could tell he was tense. You didn’t ask any questions; it wasn’t for you to know and you’re sure he was feeling more emotions that you could imagine.

         You watch as many people try to save the pair of supposed brothers. And that’s when you see Ace jump in front of Luffy. It was a quick and you had to look away from the transponder snail. You had been rooting for them to escape, no matter how unlikely it was.

         It wasn’t until after new of Luffy escaping that Dragon stood up, “Be prepared for tomorrow. It will be a long day.” He walked out of the room to leave you with the files spread about. You sighed knowing that this would shift the world in one way or another. The repercussions would change a lot and you’d most likely be the one to help brief everyone else accordingly.

~~~

         Sabo had arrived late that night, you only know because you had still been organizing papers when you saw him coming in, he had given you a tired nod before doing a double take as to why you were still awake. “Don’t over work yourself.” His tired voice hitting your ears as he had walked up to see the papers spewed in front of you.

         “A large execution and war happened. There will be a briefing tomorrow night, still organizing everything,” You kept your explanation short as to not make his brain overthink anything. He was probably just as tired as you were at this point.

         He wraps his arms around you, his head going into your neck taking a deep breath in, “Finish the rest tomorrow. I’m sure today’s been exhausting.” You sigh, knowing he’s right. Most of it was done anyway it was just a matter of getting copies and put in an orderly manner before the meeting.

~~~

         The next day you got up early enough to finish everything, dropping it all off for Dragon to look over. It was noon by the time you felt like you could breathe again. You walk outside to see the newspaper being delivered and buy the entire stock, knowing it’d have yesterday’s news of Ace in it and that everyone would want a look.

         Dropping off even more papers, this time to the center table as others were slowly filtering into the room, grabbing the paper to see what it had to say as you sat down near Dragon to take meeting notes when it started in an hour or so.

         People murmuring and looking around as they read the news, some even going up to Dragon if it’s true that he has a son, but what catches your eye is your boyfriend stopping mid step. The look on his face was the same one he’d get when he was trying to remember something from his past and you had a bad gut feeling as he turned to grab a paper himself.

         Standing up as even Koala turned to ask what was wrong is Sabo as he continued to read of the war that had happened. He starts to shake and you can hear his breathing becoming unstable, only those closest to him seem to have noticed his break down as you make your way to him. Before you could see what was wrong, he let out a painful yell, falling to the floor before passing out. Dragon stood up as everyone rushed to see what happened.

         You and Koala had decided to take turns staying by Sabo side. He had such a high fever and no one knew what was happening to him. He had been perfectly healthy before coming back and no one was prepared to see him stuck in a bed without a reason why. You heart sank every time you entered his room, wiping his forehead down every time sweat accumulated on him.

         Much of the time he was stagnant and barely moved, but every now and then he’d toss and turn, trying to grip for something with both his hands as you’d call the medics to help him relax again. You’d learn quickly that it was better for him to be fully out over letting his body control him. Koala had been with him the first time, not only was he attacking at random, but he was also hurting himself. What had been a small coma quickly turned into a couple of fractured bones and stitches as he haphazardly attacked objects.

         Three days had passed and you could handle it, Koala and Hack telling you to get some sleep as they took over watch of the passed-out chief of staff. You couldn’t sleep much but laying down was enough rest you’d need while overthinking of what could have happened.

         It hadn’t even been 2 hours when someone burst into your room, informing you of Sabo waking up. You were delighted, a little disappointed in yourself for not being next to him as you quickly make your way to him.

         You burst into the room, tears running down your face just as he was explaining he had gotten his memories back. You didn’t care, you tackle his bed, jumping between Hack and Koala who were there. You pounded on his chest as you heard Koala’s sniffles too and his arms wrap around you rubbing your back, “Don’t scare me like that idiot.” The harsh scold met with a small laughter at you stare up at Sabo’s refreshed face. Dragon also entering the room as Koala laughs at your normally stern and strong demeanor is broken, her own sobs quieting down.

         After a couple minutes of everyone calming down Sabo lets everyone know that Ace and Luffy are his brothers. You glance at Dragon, wondering if he knew considering he had picked Sabo up from the island they grew up on, his cold face showing a little bit of shock before going back to being unreadable.

         “The important thing now is that I can protect those I love now.” Sabo’s voice strong as ever as he grips your hand tighter, “I’ll make sure I never lose anyone needlessly again.” His face downturned slightly, you assumed it was for mourning of Ace.

         You can’t imagine how it must feel to remember your family only to realize you lost one of them, another one of them god knows where after being in critical condition. Although you do let Sabo know that Luffy seemed to have made it out alive, quickly retrieving the paper that showed his solemn look of him breaking back into Marineford for a photo op.

         Sabo clenches the paper, his jaw becoming tight as he stares at the photo, “That idiot never changes.” He breathes a sigh and you can see a slight smile play onto Dragon’s face at the comment.

         Over the course of a couple days, you could see Sabo battling himself. Making small comments here and there, and being clingier than before. You couldn’t blame him though, if anything you’re shocked, he wasn’t mourning more. Still, you stayed by his side, listening to his words and his happy stories of his childhood. Holding him close when he’d get silent and tears started brimming his eyes.

         Some nights he wouldn’t let you go until morning, and you didn’t dare leave him. Seeing him in such a vulnerable state broke your heart, and if he needed you there, you weren’t going to deny him that small comfort.

[tokidokitokyo]

How to Improve Your Handwriting in Japanese

Learning to write in Japanese, teaching others to learn to write in Japanese, and watching Japanese people write in Japanese has taught me that it’s hard to write in Japanese. Remembering how to write the kanji in the first place is hard (especially with the ease of writing in Japanese on the computer or phone), remembering the stroke order and then figuring out how to fit the character into the space that you have - these are all difficult. And then on top of that, you don’t want these beautiful characters to look like you were bouncing up and down on a dirt road while you wrote them.

Handwriting in any language varies by person. There are people whose handwriting is sloppy in Japanese, just as in any other language. My handwriting in English isn’t perfect either, but I want my kanji to look less like shaky squiggles and more like, well, a native Japanese speaker’s characters. So I decided to break down how I go about improving my Japanese handwriting.

Practice

When you learn to write in English, you practice your letters over and over again. When you first learn kana and then kanji, it is also a good idea to write them over and over again. This helps many people to remember the characters (stroke order, spatial placement of each part of the character), and by writing the characters over and over again you will be able to write more quickly. You also won’t have to look up simple characters over and over again when you want to write a composition or a letter.

When I first started writing compositions by hand in kanji I remember looking up a character in the dictionary to check stroke order or to check how the kanji was written more often than not. This is a difficult way to write anything and takes a lot of time. Practice will help you to remember the characters and not have to stop to check your dictionary as often.

A high school friend told me that her mother would sit her down at the table every night and force her to work on her penmanship until it was what her mother deemed suitable. When we wrote our AP English essays in class, her penmanship was impeccable, although it took her much longer to write the essays than most of the other students. The result of what she considered torturous practice was amazing handwriting that made me jealous. If I had spent every night laboriously perfecting my penmanship I might also have attained that kind of handwriting - but I did not.

This is an extreme example, and I’m not saying you have to have perfect handwriting, but if improving your handwriting is something you would like to accomplish, taking the time to practice will certainly help your penmanship.

Books

There are Japanese books dedicated to this, because beautiful handwriting is desirable in all languages, but they are written in Japanese and I personally didn’t want to buy a book for this purpose.

Websites

Websites are a bit more difficult to come by because most people want to make some money off telling you their penmanship secrets. However, there are a few websites with some examples of good penmanship.

Links

Here are some online links for handwriting practice:

Chibi Musu Drill is where I look for kana practice for my toddler. They have a variety of drill print-outs that you can use to practice writing the characters correctly. This is especially helpful if you are self-studying as it helps with the shape of characters and the stroke order, and how the stroke should be finished (i.e. abrupt stop or drag and fade out to a tail). There are also tests you can print out for kanji. The site is all in Japanese.

Hiragana | Katakana | Kanji 

Seiho’s YouTube Calligraphy School - VIDEO - Only in Japanese but the videos are easy to follow since she uses a red pen to highlight where to pay attention. This is more in-depth but has helpful hints on improving your kanji balance, but you can search 字がきれいに書く方法 to get more results.

Yumefude Penji on Instagram has videos showing how to write kanji properly.

How I Practice Handwriting in Japanese

For Kana

To practice handwriting kana, I find an example of good penmanship from a website. It’s best if the example is larger, or if I can blow it up. Then I print it out with darkened font. Drill print-outs also work well as they have characters for you to trace, then space for you to practice on your own.

I put a sheet of clean paper on top of the print-out and make sure I can read the characters through the clean paper. You can also get tracing paper. Then, I trace the characters multiple times. I try to feel the flow of the character as I trace it and to note if the stroke ends abruptly (とめ), has a kink in it (はね), or if it fades out to a tail (はらい).

Lastly, I practice on my own. I use the feel of the character I traced and try to replicate it. I compare my own work to the original sample, and try to determine how to get the characters to look closer to the original sample. My character might be too skinny, too round, or have a stroke out of place. I usually only do one character at a time until I am satisfied, and then move on to the next.

For Kanji

When practicing kanji, first, I use blank paper, download genkouyoushi (Japanese composition paper), or a notebook with wider line spacing for writing practice than I would for simply writing down vocabulary or notes. You can also buy special kanji practice notebooks. I do this so that I have the space to cleanly write out kanji with more strokes, rather than having to bunch together the strokes so that I can hardly read it. This way, I can practice the strokes with more room and pay attention to how the kanji fits together.

Then, I write the character several times. I try to get a muscle memory going for the character, remembering the individual parts, the radicals, the stroke order and what the kanji means. This helps me to remember the kanji, and then to understand how the individual parts fit together.

I am careful to not copy the typewritten Japanese characters, for these are often different than the handwritten characters. Using a kanji textbook or a website where they teach handwritten kanji is the best way to learn to handwrite kanji. Some dictionary apps also show stroke order and will show the handwritten version so you can see the difference.

9 Tips for Better Handwriting

Source

1. Hold your pen properly / ぺんを正しく��つ

2. Sit with proper posture / 正しい姿勢で座る

3. Create a calm setting where you can concentrate / 落ち着いて集中できる空間を作る

4. Write using the correct stroke order / 正しい書き順で書く

     a. From the top to the bottom / 上から下へ

     b. From the left to the right / 左から右へ

5. Take care with the Stop - Wing - Sweeping Stroke / とめ・はね・はらいを丁寧に

Showing stop - wing - sweeping stroke in kanji

6. Modulate the size of the character and write slowly and carefully / 大きさにメリハリをつけながら、ゆっくり書く

7. Make sure the characters rise to the right / 右上がりになるようにする

8. Make sure the spacing between lines is equal / 線と線の間隔が等しくなるようにする

9. Write with the intention of being read by others / 人に読まれるつもりで書く

My handwriting in Japanese is far from perfect, but when I have a chance I like to hand write characters to get a better feel for them and for their meanings. I hope this guide helps you to improve your penmanship!

[moonshine-nightlight]

Nothing's Wrong with Dale - Part Twenty-Nine

It’s been a week, but you’re fairly certain your fiancé accidentally got himself replaced by an eldritch being from the Depths. Deciding  that he’s certainly not worse than your original fiancé, you endeavor to keep the engagement and his new non-human state to yourself.

However, this might prove harder than you originally thought.

Fantasy, arranged marriage, malemonsterxfemalereader, M/F

AO3: Nothing’s Wrong with Dale Chapter 29

[Part One][Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Part Five] [Part Six] [Part Seven] [Part Seven.5][Part Eight] [Part Nine] [Part Ten]  [Part Eleven] [Part Twelve]  [Part Thirteen] [Part Fourteen] [Part Fifteen] [Part Sixteen] [Part Seventeen] [Part Eighteen] [Part Nineteen] [Part Twenty] [Part Twenty-One] [Part Twenty-Two][Part Twenty-Three] [Part Twenty-Four][Part Twenty-Five] [Part Twenty-Six] [Part Twenty-Seven] [Part Twenty-Eight] Part Twenty-Nine [Part Thirty] [Part Thirty-One] [Part Thirty-Two] [Part Thirty-Three] [Part Thirty-Four]

It’s finally arrived: the morning of your wedding.

Only three hours from now. You’ve rehearsed and made all the decisions and socialized with what feels like everyone in the country and several outside of it. You’ll finish getting dressed over the next hour or so, finalize any last minute arrangements and handle any day-of problems with Grandmother or the Steward, and then the wedding ceremony will occur. After that, there will be the final signing of papers for the legal offices. The wedding luncheon will take up several hours, but you’ll be the first expected to leave for once. While your guests continue to socialize, you, Dale, and a small number of servants ride off. 

You’re headed for an old hunting lodge a couple hours away. It’s a traditional destination for all Northridge newly married couples, with a separate house for the servants therefore privacy for the new couple. Some only spent a single night there, heading on to more distant destinations, but you and Dale shall spend at least a week there. After you’ll continue on to Riverton, the closest city in Northridge to the hunting lodge, to start your tour of the fief. 

A strangely nervous excitement fills you with both anticipation and trepidation. There has been so much build-up to today that it feels surreal to have finally arrived. There will be the days after today where you and Dale will finally have unbridled privacy to talk openly. You are worried about what he might reveal, but if these last few weeks have taught you anything, it’s that not knowing is far, far worse. You cannot help but look forward to the absence of other people you must socialize and make conversation with. There will be no more focus and attention on you which is something you need desperately. 

Your family will no longer be constantly around. They’ve been well enough behaved, to be sure, and Callalily has not brought up any further concerns. Your other siblings give no hint that she might have spoken with them on such matters, which you are grateful for. You’re also grateful that Dale has stuck closer to you these past few nights than he had previously. Some of his friends even were carefully integrated into the Northridge and Portsmith conversations with ease, although you did notice a certain few who remained on the other side of the room. Wilhelm was among them. He did apologize to you directly the next day, once he’d gotten over his hangover. He’d been profoundly embarrassed, admitting he’d no true memory of the night. 

Dale was still a bit odd, often lost in thought. He maintained a cheerful enough disposition that you don’t think anyone else noticed. His control seemed to have been reasserted as you’ve noticed no suggestions to his true nature in the slightest, which allowed you to relax as well. You know you will both be far less stressed once this fuss is all behind you. 

Brisk hands with a plush towel drying your hair pull you out of your thoughts. Freshly clean from a bath, your maid is getting ready to style your hair. Behind you in your dressing room other maids are pressing your clothing and packing your bags for the trip ahead. You’re enjoying the quiet atmosphere as they chat. It helps that everything’s already been decided so no one has to speak with you. You’ve been purposely avoiding thinking about the wedding ceremony itself—even more than all the galas, everyone’s attention will be on you and Dale. It's rather terrifying. You need every second you have to yourself to try to reach some sort of calm. 

So far, you're dressed in your lovely wedding chemise, a gift from Marigold, and you distract yourself to admire it in the mirror. The lacework is finer and more intricate than any you’d seen on such a garment with a lovely ribbon of maroon woven through the hem. Marigold insisted that these decorations were a trend among certain nobility, shirts and shifts alike, for special occasions and the like. You had been touched when it arrived near a month ago. You feel retroactively guilty for the mild suspicion you’d pessimistically attributed to her intentions. You’d been both flattered and anxious about being condensed to, as if you were too young or naive to have known of the fad yourself, which of course you had not.

Now you believe she had merely wanted to give you a present and share her more intimate knowledge of fashion trends, with no slight intended. It is her gift to you for the wedding and you greatly appreciate it. Douglas has given you a fine horse and Asher a handwritten booklet, with tips and advice from what he remembers learning as he began to run your home fief. Not to play favorites, but you’ve already begun reading Asher’s, even if the mare is lovely.

No sooner had your mind turned to Callalily’s gift, than there was a knock on the door. Miss Adir opens it to admit Callalily and her maid, who she’s lending to you for styling your hair for the wedding. She has also given you a wonderful book on herbs and medicine, which you didn’t have the heart to tell her was one you’d read before. You remind yourself that it is a more recent edition than the one you’d used in school and that it is nice to have your own copy.

Callalily elects to stay in the room, her outfit and hair already fully taken care of for the day, and lounges on one of your dressing room chairs. “Where is your dress?”

“With the laundress, my lady,” Miss Adir tells her at your questioning look. “They are steaming it. Your underskirts as well. Your stays are ready, if you’d like me to lace them up before we start on the rest of your hair.”

You roll your shoulders as you eye the stays on the rack nearby. They’re freshly cleaned because, unlike your underskirts, you’ve not worn them recently. Your eyes dart to your bed where the stays you’ve been wearing lay. They’ve been cleaned this week, but not yesterday and they’re different enough due to the busk knife sheath that the dress might sit oddly over them given the way they’ve been made.

Reading your look, Miss Adir offers, “We can still switch to the other stays my lady.”

“No, no,” you shake your head. You’ve practically worn no other stays without the sheath knife since the attack, but you know it's foolish. It’s not as though you’ve been alone since then where you would need to rely on it. Still, it’s made you feel safer to have it there. But it’s not as though someone would try to strike you during the ceremony or wedding luncheon and you’ll be with Dale after. “The dress was made with that one in mind,” you state as confidently as you can, “No matter my reluctance.”

“Why are you tempted by this other pair of stays?” Callalily asks, glancing over the assorted freshly laundered undergarments. “Surely they cannot be so different.”

“Oh, they are the ones you gifted to me,” you say, not sure how exactly to broach the subject without worrying her. She’s the one who gave them to you for a purpose. As a diplomat, she’s the sibling most involved in politics—of multiple countries no less. She’s had to deal with her own fair share of such attacks, but you don’t think she ever truly expected you to need to rely on her gift for its intended purpose. “I’d meant to thank you again for them.”

“You did?” Callalily raises an eyebrow at that.

“Yes,” you admit, eyes darting to the maid with her back to you as she packs clothes into your trunks and avoiding Miss Adir’s gaze. You select your words carefully, “I had cause to make use of their unique construction and am very grateful for the gift.”

You watch in the mirror as Callalily’s maid braids your damp hair. Her eyes widen as she pares your allusion. “You… did,” she says slowly, sitting straighter in her chair as she fully absorbs what you're saying. “When? Are you alright?”

“I am fine,” you reply just as carefully. Callalily’s eyes are insistent as she stares at you and you reluctantly elaborate, “There was an incident two weeks or so ago.” That at least is easy enough to tell her. Your mother’s penchant for specific coded language comes in handy. “Incident” means an attack on the family without serious injury or death, for you. It also indicates a private attack otherwise it would have been a ‘commotion’. Neither you, Dale, nor Grandmother were injured enough for a “disturbance” and since Dale took care of the assassins it's not “ongoing”. “The matter has been settled personally by Lord Dale, for now.”

“Two weeks—” Callalily starts to press before she cuts herself off. Her eyes are critical on your form in the mirror. You can see her take note that you have no visible injuries. You’ve no injuries hidden either—all bruising has since resolved. “I see.” You’ve never seen her at such a loss until the other day and to have it happen twice is nothing short of a miracle. She resettles herself in the chair and says, “Well, I’m very glad you had the stays then.” The sincerity in her voice makes you smile. “I can provide you the name of the maker, in case you should like to order more.”

Your smile widens at her offer. You’d asked one of the seamstresses to look into just such a thing, but it would be far easier with her help. “Thank you.”

She can’t seem to stop herself from questioning further, saying, “Did you have occasion to do more than…?” Something in your expression must answer her incomplete question for her. She stands up from the chair and walks over to the stays, pulling out the entire busk sheath.“I see. Then I am grateful indeed that you had this. I can provide a cord and show you how else to wear it, if you’d prefer.”

“Yes, please,” you reply, already feeling more settled at her suggestion. Callalily murmurs to a maid instructions for what to get from her rooms. 

Only a few minutes later, the maid returns with the necessary supplies and Marigold in tow. “Apologies for my delay,” Marigold says as she quickly takes Callalily’s place on her chair. “It was more difficult than I expected make my way here without notice or accompaniment.”

Before you can question what she means by that, you’re distracted by Callalily’s maid needing to pin up your braids and set your curls. You do catch a look Callalily and Marigold share and wonder what it could mean as Miss Adir laces up your stays. When two of the maids, including Miss Adir, leave for the laundry room, you are unsurprised when Callalily sends her maid on an errand for some jewelry she’s decided to lend to you.

The final maid has finished with the fireplace and correctly reads the room, taking her leave. You eye your sisters in the mirror and ask, “What is it you wish to discuss?” Marigold tries to adopt an innocent expression, but Callalily doesn’t. She smirks as she inspects the dresses that haven’t been packed yet.

“Mother and Father wanted to be the one to speak with you,” Marigold says, as if she is reassuring you of something. Your eyebrows raise at that and she continues, “but we decided to do so instead.” 

You lean back against your vanity in your chemise and stays. You don’t think there is bad news they are wishing to impart or truly news at all. However, you’re not sure what else they would need to tell you in private and in this manner. “What did they wish to speak about?”

Marigold looks extremely amused as Callalily answers, “The wedding night.”

“Oh.” You frown, wondering why they’d want to discuss tonight’s accommodations. As family of the bride, you expect them to stay on the Northridge estate for another week even as other guests might begin to leave as early as tomorrow, depending on how long the gala lasts today. Then something in Marigold’s smirk sparks a connection in your mind. “Oh!” You feel the heat rise in your cheeks as you try very hard not to seem too awkward or naive. 

They mean your wedding night. Tonight. With Dale. Then you remember the rest of what they said and feel an embarrassed panic fill your veins at the thought of having to discuss anything along those lines with your parents. “By the light, please no.” You’ve no true desire to discuss this with your sisters, although part of you is curious about their general experience as both are married, but your parents? No.

“I did not escape their talk and neither did Asher,” Callalily explains, a teasing twinkle in her eye, “but we were able to save Marigold.”

“And so we shall save you,” Marigold proclaims magnanimously. 

Your mind races, not having expected any of them to want to discuss physical affection with you, even in preparation of tonight. You know that is the purpose of a wedding trip, everyone does, but it feels far too personal somehow to discuss anything detailed with them. You hadn’t felt nearly this uncomfortable when you’d have these facts explained to you in the first place. “We already had lessons! In school!” you protest when it becomes clear that by “save” they mean to still speak with you themselves. “Did you not?”

“We did,” Callalily confirms. Her teasing demeanor softens in the face of your discomfort and she explains further, “But Mother in particular still wanted to provide, ehm, additional context and opportunity to ask questions.”

“It’s genuinely rather sweet—in theory,” Marigold says. She’s not wrong exactly, on some level you appreciate the offer, but a larger part of you has never divulged personal information of this nature to anyone in your family or the reverse and you are perfectly content for it to stay that way.

“Yes well,” Callaliy’s voice is exceedingly dry. “I did not need to know anything about their wedding night or continued marital bliss.”

“Please stop,” you say weakly.

“We meant to speak with you far sooner,” Marigold clarifies, “but since we arrived late and with how busy everything was, we were not able to until now.”

“We apologize,” Callalily says, but she continues talking, “but truly, do you have any questions?”

“Or concerns?” Marigold leans in, eyes intent. “Have you—”

“No, of course not,” you reply before you can help yourself. Having a child outside of marriage for a noble was considered a societal taboo of the highest level. It’s seen as diluting your bloodline, evidence of careless stupidity, and disrespectful to nearly everyone involved. Those who did so and were found out were often ostracized from noble society, along with their family. The risk of such an outcome was impressed upon you and the other students–not to mention by your parents. As you knew you’d have a challenging time earning a betrothal as it was, you’d never considered doing so. Not to mention you’ve had enough health concerns and medicine in your body that you’d not wanted to take any chances with certain contraception methods. 

But your sisters wouldn’t have had all those concerns. You also knew that it was somewhat common to preempt your wedding vows with your fiance in the weeks before the wedding. Everyone knew that first-borns tended to be born early, which means everyone knew that some did wait for the wedding night, if they felt their marriage was guaranteed strongly enough for that risk. With eyes wide you ask, “Had you?”

“I did not and neither did Asher,” Callalily sniffs in such a pointed manner that you turn to Marigold somewhat incredulously.

“I did,” Marigold confesses boldly. You knew she was always more willing to go against convention, but you’re still surprised. “It is not such a travesty or such a danger and I’m glad for the experience. It seemed ill-advised to me to wait until the wedding night.” You want to ask if she slept with her future husband or someone else. You want to ask how she kept the risk of a child out of wedlock low. Perhaps you will ask later as she does not have any children to this day, but you can’t make yourself ask right now. 

You’d purposely not been thinking in too much detail about tonight, let alone engaging in such activity earlier. First, that had been due to who Dale was and then you’d been preoccupied with everything else this Dale is. Now they’re making it hard not to worry. What experience does this Dale have? What does he expect from you? Is what Marigold did far more common than you thought?

Marigold’s eyes narrow as she asks, “Have you had any experience with lust at all?”

You resist the urge to cross your arms defensively in front of yourself before saying, “Yes, some. Nothing—” you swallow as you try not to sound too defensive or accusatory after what Marigold confessed, “nothing as you seem to have experienced, but more than a kiss, if that is what you are asking.”

“Truly?” Marigold seems genuinely taken aback. You don’t know whether to feel offended she thought you too naive or unwanted to have done so or pleased you’ve managed to surprise her. “When? With who?”

“Does it matter?” you ask, the heat rushing to your face at the memories. You know peasants and other classmates and clearly Marigold herself had more experience than you managed to have. Both of Callalily and Marigold were married so they had far more by now too. You’re sure they’ll view your paltry experience as quite innocent.

“No one took advantage of you, did they?” Callalily’s expression is intent, her hand subconsciously drifting towards her sword as she reads the discomfort in your body language.

“No, of course not,” you reply quickly, not wanting her to get the wrong idea. “Just some games at school, in the dormitory.” Dormitories at your school were for four girls in a room, but some nights, more would sneak out after stealing something from the kitchens and all gather together. You’d never been invited to one in another room, but you’d joined in the one or two times everyone had gathered in your own rooms. Nadine’s brother would sometimes send her packages with liquor harder than the watered down wine you’d have with dinner that she would share with the others. Many of the games were silly but some turned to romance and kissing in addition to other daring challenges.

“Oh,” Callalily blinked in surprise before smiling, “Yes, we used to participate in such games. Many of my classmates enjoyed professing it as ‘practice’ without too much unnecessary risk.”

“That is not all, is it?” Marigold says shrewdly, her eyes intent on you.

You jut out your chin stubbornly because she’s correct. “No, I… There was one Spring Equinox festival, soon after graduation.” At their looks of mild confusion, no doubt remembering the family dinners and boring sacred ceremonies, you reluctantly expand further. “One I went to with my maid.” They frown in confusion. “As her cousin.” Their eyebrows raise at that reveal, remembering how different those festivals were from the more staid affairs your parents would host. “In the Garden district.” 

Your home city, not the country estate, is where you’d attended this particular festival. That is why you had been able to pretend to be Martina’s cousin—everyone would have recognized you back on the estate, or at least know you weren’t Martina’s cousin, but not in the city. She’d help you dress and coached you on how to talk and act. She had said she wanted you to experience more life than you had received. Your quiet nature had easily fed into the idea of you being her country cousin with no experience in the large city. It had been one of, if not the best nights of your life. You’ve never talked to anyone about it besides Martina.

“You did what?!” Callalily exclaims.

Marigold grins. “I did not think you had it within you to do such a thing. Wonderful! That sounds like a marvelous time.”

“With how much everyone drinks?” Callalily says, still looking shocked. “Especially in the Garden district. Their liquors are dangerous!”

She isn’t wrong. They made delicious drinks without burn or foul taste which could easily lead to someone overindulging. Your contribution of coin had been carefully managed to acquire enough equally delicious street food. Besides, Martina is a good friend and you’ll not let them think she was careless with your well being. “M-She looked out for me. There was no lasting harm from that night. Nothing dangerous happened.” You can’t help but say, “I just wanted to enjoy myself as a real person for once.”

“Oh, honey,” Marigold says.

“I know that you—” Callalily tries to say, obviously not recalling enough from your previous conversation.

“Do you? You do not know,” you say sharply, the words coming easier this time. “And you all insist I must have slept through the first decade and a half of my life, but I did not. I was merely trapped in those rooms, listening to faint music from below, forbidden by Mother and my own body from—” You cut yourself off in a frustrated huff. But once again, at least they’re listening. You try to keep your voice steady so as not to feel like a child complaining about not receiving enough sweets. “It was like I was a doll, put up on a shelf, who could do nothing without another’s permission and manipulation. It was painful, the life all around me that I could not participate in.” You swallow, looking away from them and the pity you knew must be in your eyes. “So if, when I was an adult who could truly live,” you told the floor, “I wanted to drink and pretend to be someone else for the night and, and kiss someone in a barn,” you look back up at them, “then so be it!”

Silence fills the room as you breathe heavily, not having meant to say so much in such a short period of time. Then Marigold throws her arms around you in a fierce hug and Callalily soon joins hers. “My apologies,” Callalily murmurs, “I do not mean to presume so much. I had thought myself better than that.”

“I’d have gone mad, stuck in such a manner,” Marigold confesses. You don’t think saying that it felt like you had for a time would be appreciated but you’re grateful for the acknowledgment. “It was easier to believe you’d slept through it all than think of you in pain the whole time. I’m so happy that you’re here now and that you’ve done all you can to enjoy yourself.”

“Yes, precisely,” Callalily agrees before backing off to give you some space.

Marigold gives you an extra squeeze before she pulls back enough to tease, “How was the barn lad?”

You laugh even as you discretely dab at your eyes and take a sip from the water Callalily’s brought for you. “Sweet, he was a carpenter’s apprentice.” He’d been strong and confident—settled in a way that had greatly attracted you. You’d needed some air after how hot and tightly packed the tavern had gotten and he’d asked to come with you. The memory is still tinted with a pleasant haze. “We were interrupted by the maid who brought me before anything aside from his shirt—” You cut yourself off, rather embarrassed and wanting to keep some of that night to yourself.

Marigold giggles.

Callalily nods and finally stops looking as though she plans to call the guards to find Martina and take her to task. “It’s probably for the best,” she ends up saying. “Barns are not near as romantic as one might hope when it comes to anything that requires the actual removal of clothing.”

“Callalily!”

“My husband misses me when we travel apart,” she says airly. “We cannot wait at times.”

Marigold scrunches up her face. “I’m not sure I required that information.” 

“I could instead tell you of Mother’s—” Callalily begins.

“No!” you and Marigold interrupt her at the same time.

Callalily rolls her eyes but seems intent upon bringing the conversation back to where it originally started. “If you do not wish to have further discussion, or you do not have any questions, that is fine. I would like to impress upon you that communication is the heart of a marriage, in all aspects including matters of physical affection.”

“Encourage what you enjoy, put a halt to anything you dislike,” Marigold adds, more serious than she’s been on the subject so far. “As well as listen to him for the same.”

“It should be an enjoyable night,” Callalily says definitively, “and if either of you are not enjoying yourselves, talk to each other. There is always the next night.”

“Do you believe he would pressure you?” Marigold asks with a frown. “Some are very insistent regarding the manner in which a wedding night should progress.”

You shake your head before she’s even finished asking. “No, I don’t. Dale listens to me.” Original Dale would have had expectations and perhaps this Dale does too, but you’ve never received that impression from him. If anything, you’re beginning to wonder if he’ll be interested in the usual trappings of a human wedding night. His recent attitude, his confusing demeanor. It must all just be pressure from the investigation and the wedding and having to perform for so many people. Once the two of you are finally alone, everything will all be so much easier. It has to be.

In truth, it's how his inhuman nature will impact tonight and your future together that you have the most questions and concerns around. What if demons marry differently? What if they express physical affection in a manner you cannot reciprocate? Would that be better than if he’s no interest in you physically at all? The original Dale had proclaimed you passable, did this one agree? It’s not as though you can express all of those twisting thoughts to your sisters.

“As he should.” Callalily nods decisively and questions you no further on your assessment of Dale, which you’re grateful for. 

“You,” Marigold stares at you, head tilted to the side, as if a new thought had just occurred to her. “You are happy to be marrying, aren’t you?”

Despite all your worries, you smile shyly back at her. “Yes, I am.”

She grins back. “Then that is what truly matters.” Marigold glances at the clock and frowns. “As it is, we had best be on our way to rescue him from Mother.” At your frown, she explains, “He’d agreed to stay with her in the garden and entertain.” You take that to mean ‘allow Mother to play matchmaker for him’. You’re surprisingly touched by the sacrifice. “However, we are already approaching the hour and he shall wish for his deliverance from her shortly.”

“Luckily Asher is occupying Father,” Callalily says. “And is unlikely to want for rescue. If anything we shall have to pry them away from a riveting board game of some kind to attend the wedding in the first place.”

“We can let Mother deal with them,” Marigold waves off Callalily’s concern.

“Thank you,” you cut in to say. “I truly do appreciate it.”

“You are most welcome,” Marigold replies.

“If you require anything at all, do not hesitate to contact us, any of us, yes?” Callalily adds.

“Yes,” you answer and you think you actually will, if you need to.

After they leave, you sit down, suddenly unaware of what to do with yourself. Your eyes catch on the various wedding accessories spread out on your vanity. You run your fingers over the garter’s lace detail as your mind drifts to tonight and how Dale might–

The door opens behind you and you hope your expression doesn’t give the direction your thoughts had been drifting away. “Did you forget something, sister?” Your eyes land on a maid instead of your sisters. “Oh, my apologies.”

“My lady.” She looks surprised to see you, which is odd considering these are your rooms. Her eyes dart around as if looking for someone else, but there’s only you. If anything, you’d say she has the look of a woman who just learned some piece of tantalizing gossip and instead of finding a room full of her fellow servants, has found a superior instead. When you were still young and bedridden, it was one of the few times you were grateful you never counted fully as one such superior. It was always so interesting to listen to the stories they shared. Now, in a bittersweet way, it seems you’ve finally moved to the latter group. “I…”

Still, as she begins to look more worried than disappointed, when she hasn’t made an excuse about being confused about which room she’s in and left, you frown. “What is it?” you ask.

“Lord Dale has…” she trails off when the other maids return from the laundry with your clean clothes for packing, your corded underskirts pressed and bleached to pure whiteness. 

The maid who’d burst in seems to be attempting to act casual, but even the other maids notice something is amiss as their eyes keep darting to her with interest even as they return to their places. Then it appears she is going to slip out of the room. You can’t have that. “Miss? You were sharing news?” you remind her, hoping how tightly strung her words have left isn’t obvious.

“There might be a mild issue,” she says hastily, taking another step towards the door. “I’m sure it shall be dealt with quickly. If it were more serious, you would have been informed by a person far more appropriate than me. There is no point in worrying you.”

You swallow, each word increasing the panic shooting through you. “Be that as it may, you are here now. Tell me, what is your understanding of the situation?”

“I truly should not trouble you, my lady,” she tries to insist. “Lord Archibald is handling it.”

“What is wrong with Lord Dale?” you repeat, as clearly as you can because whether they know it or not, you are the best person to handle whatever might be wrong. Did someone try to give him willowbark again? Did someone involved in the assassination attempt attack? Is there some new danger you cannot even fathom?

“I overheard,” she says haltingly, “there was a lot of shouting, you see. They’re still arguing about it I believe, but… well…from what I heard, which was not terribly clear you must understand, it sounded as if…” You try your best to prompt her with your expression, the whole room gone silent waiting for her final words. “Lord Dale, he’s called off the wedding.”

[Part Thirty]

[faeriekit]

Health and Hybrids (VII)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters  for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and whatever prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

PART ONE is here PART TWOis here PART THREEis here PART FOUR is here and PART FIVE is here PART SIX is here and this is lucky number seven baby 💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts

Where we last left off... Martian Manhunter did a Whoopsie. Things are better than they were though, so...success? YJ got in trouble with Batman but Danny wasn't exactly cognizant enough to notice so that got relegated to the tags.

Trigger warnings for this story:  body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) |  my awful attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

The debriefing team meets J’onn in a meeting room not too far from the cafeteria. By the time he makes it to the correct floor, the team has clearly been waiting on him; on the table are a pack of Chocco cookies, a large order of fries, and a ten pack of chicken nuggets. 

J’onn inclines his head. It’s nice to see that his favorite meal is remembered. “Thank you, Batman.” 

Batman’s nod is equally as formal. The human is already most of the way through his italian sub. “No thanks needed. Were you successful in your contact with the entity?” 

Ah. Right to the details, then. J’onn obliges the question with a seat at the table. Black Canary, a chair to his right, gently scoots over to provide him more space. 

In the end, J’onn is relieved to have a prop in his hands. It creates a small, if flimsy barrier between himself and the images the boy had shown him. 

What he knows now…

J’onn sighs. 

The room is peaceful— likely intentionally so, in order to ease the oncoming conversation. Wonder Woman and Black Canary sit beside each other, their individual meals open and half-eaten between them. As the facilitator of the conversation, Batman sits at the end of the table; as the secretary of the meeting, Superman sits beside him, his sloppy joe in one hand and a keyboard beneath the other. 

J’onn quietly tears open the packaging of his pack of cookies. Plucks one from its plastic insert inside. Chews. Swallows.

“The first thing to note is that although the entity's primary language is not known to me, he is extremely familiar with humans— and, likely, with Earth.” 

Superman swallows the rest of his sandwich in one gulp, nods, and begins to type. Batman turns to face J’onn directly. “How so?” 

“He has many memories of flying freely in Earth’s atmosphere, specifically; the stars line up with the star patterns as viewed from this planet. He is intimately familiar with several aspects of Earth’s culture, including the idea of ‘a bedroom’, which he identified as his own, and a childhood toy, which was a scale model of an Earth spacecraft. If I was shown a variety of options, I could likely pick out which craft specifically. He has a mind for detail.”

Superman’s fingers flick rapid-fire over the keyboard. J’onn happens to be aware of the Krytponian’s career, as the local telepath, but rarely is the man's passion so clearly shown; the focus and quick hands certainly project an air of professionalism around an otherwise at-ease debriefing room.

“You’re using he/him,” the Kryptonian observes, making additional notes in the margins of the in-progress report. “How did that come about?”

“He does have an understanding of the most common gender identities of Earth, and has a favored one. How he came about it…” J’onn inhales. It is a very human gesture. “…I do not know his origins for certain, but I have several theories.”

Batman cuts off an oncoming question from Superman with a silent wave of his hand. “Base information first. Questions and theoreticals at the end.”

Superman’s face at the hindering of his professional instincts is perhaps less than completely mature. “Yes, yes.”

J’onn takes a second cookie.

It’s easy to report on certain things; the entity's initial inability to communicate without acute pain, the subsequent reaction of the teenage team, the eventual discovery of clear communication and transference of emotion.

“Not all of his thoughts were particularly clear.” J’onn nibbles on the edge of his cookie. Black Canary pushes aside her empty tray of California rolls to give her pen and notepad space. This portion of the debrief necessitates more of her skills. “Most of the memories that he aimed to show me were value-neutral, or otherwise unrelated memories, likely due to the stress of his current and deeply traumatic situation. He preferred memories that did not have pain or distress associated with them. When prompted—I displayed my own perspective of the crash we had found him in— the associated memories that were brought up implied that not only was he the pilot of the craft, but that he had a hand in building it.”

Superman’s rhythmic tapping undercuts the soft conversation. “So he is sapient, then, despite the difficulties in communication,” Wonder Woman confirms softly.

“More than. There are echoes of formalized schooling and other instruction in his mind, although I couldn’t discern the topics of the lessons.”

“Were there other beings like him? Anyone we could reach out to? Family members, friends…?”

J’onn hesitates. There’s no way to confirm what he saw. However…

“…There are memories that he has of his own person, in which he looks very human. His self-conceptualization is of an adolescent human boy.”

The grief in the room is palpable. J’onn doesn’t have to look up to feel it press in on him from all sides.

“I suspect that…in the same way that Superman has largely spent his life on Earth, this boy has at least spent several years on Earth as well. There are glosses of memories of an adapted human house, though I was unable to safely explore how far back they went. There are humans who prominently play a role in his self-image and expected worldview, although the mental representations of them have scarred over with some form of psychological trauma. Overall, despite his current form, there was likely a time this child felt safe around both humans and human scientists.” 

Silence rules over the room. 

“...Do we know what changed that?” Black Canary asks, without looking up from her notes. Her pencil eraser taps quietly against the table. 

J’onn sets the package of cookies to the side. “Not…so exactly. There were hints of memories threaded throughout the recalled moments that he did not wish to pin down. Claustrophobia. Fear of incarceration. The fear of physical harm done to him— and the psychological harm of knowing with exact certainty that there were those willing to hurt him. …Intimate betrayal.” 

Superman and Black Canary’s eyes quietly close. Batman looks hardly moved under his cowl; if J’onn could not feel the man’s stress spike in the air, he might not have ever known how worried the human was. 

J’onn isn’t actually meant to know Superman’s circumstances as to his arrival on planet Earth, but there are equally few ways that any of the league can hide the entirety of their thoughts from him— especially at the time of his initial arrival into the League, when mental defenses had yet to be erected in a comprehensive manner. This situation smacks strongly of the story of Clark Kent, son of his human parents. 

“There is no way to confirm my guess without further conversation on the topic. However, it is incredibly likely that he lived under the radar, on Earth, for a lengthy enough span of time to acclimate to human society. The discovery of his non-human biology would have spurred further action, and the result would have given reason for his fear of medical professionals, scientists, and adult humans. Likely, the other humans in his memories meant to support him, and were prevented from doing so or injured in the process. The vehicle that had crashed back to Earth would have served as—”

“—An escape route,” several voices overlap together. 

J’onn nods. His fingers steeple together. “There is no way to know how far into space he had gotten, or if his escape was aided by others of his species, or even if the point of origin was in low atmosphere or Earth's orbit. Either way, our patient is alone now, is in extreme background pain, has lost perception in several of his senses that exclude taste, and has reluctantly bonded with the junior team due to a lack of more familiar presences.”

Batman’s emotional presence circles into a silent exhale of frustration. “That would be Impulse’s under-the table operation,” the human correctly identifies, dry as the desert. 

(J’onn is certain that the vigilante will never reveal it, even to himself, but the exhale has its own quiet, microscopic tinge of reluctant amusement.)

“I don’t think it qualifies as under-the-table if you have a running file on his activities, dated and timed by every individual interaction,” Superman points out, not even bothering to glance at the now-slightly-peeved Batman. 

“Hn.”

“Oh, very mature.” 

“It was not league sanctioned.”

“Neither are the majority of your movements,” Wonder Woman points out. The fork from her salad punctuates her sentence with a tease and a wave. “If you informed us your security plans for the Watchtower any earlier than a week after you had already installed the new measures, I would assume you were an imposter and prepare for battle.”

Batman hardly looks put out. He achieves deception with his whole body. J’onn genuinely admires how discordant his behavior and churning thoughts can be. 

“Hn.”

 “Oh, very well-spoken,” Black Canary flatters insincerely, toying with her pencil against her paper. 

It would be very immature of Batman to sulk. Therefore, he does not. 

“Returning to the point of this meeting… Are there any other pertinent details we ought to know?” 

J’onn considers shrugging. He packs three chocco cookies into his mouth instead, chews, and swallows. There are only two cookies left in the pack, now. 

“The biological mechanism utilized for his empathic sense is vibrationally-based. That would be why my initial attempt at communication failed so tremendously; if he does have a neurological center, it is too deeply damaged to interpret telepathic input. He has a fondness for astronomy, can recognize the color red with greatest ease, and likely needs high contrast if we would like him to recognize any materials we provide. He imprinted on Impulse likely because the boy’s presence in the Speedforce mimics the energy readings he expects to see in those of his species.” 

Superman hums. His fingers fly. “So he must have met others of his species before.” 

J’onn makes a so-so motion. “There is no way to be certain. His abilities may be instinctually pre-programmed, or he may have had access to outside materials to teach him.” 

Batman’s arms cross. His sandwich, which had been sitting on the table, is now entirely vanished— wrapper and all. “Was there any evidence as to either particular theory you were able to pick up on?”

“...No.” Hadn’t he indicated such?

“Was there any personal information you were able to pick up on?” 

J’onn has to think about that one. The topic hadn’t come up during their mental exchange, when so much more of the focus had been on creating basic understanding of the Watchtower, his presence within their base as a patient and not as a prisoner, and his current location on the moon. Anything else that J’onn might have gleaned would have to be determined on supposition and analysis. 

“...He enjoys astronomy.” J’onn tries to recall the exact memories he had seen, and only ends up reiterating what he has already said. Perhaps highlighting certain moments will make the narrative clearer. “His childhood dwelling had little stickers on his ceiling. They would stay lit even when the room went dark—”

“...Glow in the dark stars,” Superman whispers under his breath. J’onn exhales. This isn’t a familiar point of human culture for him. He’s glad his description is recognizable. 

“Yes. He organized them to mimic Earth's constellations. He had smaller, handheld versions of rocket ships. Even if he had not known of extraterrestrial origins, he was drawn to the cosmos.” 

Batman coughs. The gesture is a reflex to suppress some welling emotion. J’onn pretends that it works. “Both items are…markers of a young child,” Batman admits. “Indications of a quite young, very human childhood.” 

Ah. J’onn can more deeply recognize the sense of tragedy welling in the air. The items are astronomy-based yes, but they equally highlight his age. 

“When he donned a human appearance, he matched the coloration of the human family who took him in. As fleeting as their acquaintance might have been, he modeled his human form after them— solidly enough and surely enough that, if he feels strong enough to form a mental self-representation, I can see the outline of it in his memories.” No details, beyond vague hints in the entity's mind of his hair and her eyes and their skin.

“Very loved,” Wonder Woman murmurs. 

“Very young, and very loved,” Black Canary reiterates with a sigh. Her notes are a black mess of graphite. “And now he fears adult humans.” 

“Yes,” J’onn admits. The cookies are gone. He sets the wrapper to the side. He reaches for the chicken nuggets. “That said, he has an instinctual familiarity with black and with red hair, will likely experience less fear with a female profile as opposed to a male, and responded favorably when offered the chance to interact with an adult who did not mean him harm. The fact that we have largely indestructible adults at our disposal works to our advantage.”

It is very, very clear who exactly fills that description. Wonder Woman sits up straight, laces her fingers together, and very kindly curtails her smugness. If Superman and Batman would like to be jealous of her current position, they may do so at their own discretion.

[hooked-on-elvis]

THANK YOU FOR BEING STRONG, LISA MARIE PRESLEY ♥ (1968 — 2023)

I'd like to address a few words on Lisa Marie Presley today, on [sadly] the 1st anniversary of her passing.

BRAVERY. That's the biggest virtue I see in Lisa.

At 5 years old she saw her life drastically changing for the first time, and it was the first moment she had no other choice but to be brave, even not knowing about it, consciously. Her parents, Elvis and Priscilla, divorced in 1973. Imagine how this feels to a child. Imagine now how this feels to a famous child, since gossip is all around and there's nothing anyone could do to prevent her from being exposed to it (even if Priscilla and Elvis tried the hardest to protect young Lisa, the best they could).

Although she couldn't possibly understand what was going on, a child is still very perceptive and sensitive to the world around. At 5 years old is the age we all begin to keep the first memories of being alive, so Lisa must have kept to her adult years, vivid, possibly painful, memories way back from 1973, even if just a few blurred images and soft whispers echoing through her mind.

Then, at 9 years old she was forced to be brave for the second time, but it was harder. Unfortunately, Lisa lost her loving father in 1977 and grief stroke her for the first time, ravaging her fairy tale castle at once, without any warning, and, on top of that, she spent her whole life from then on, having those painful memories being brought up to mind when people, naturally, asked about her phenomenal father, all the time they addressed to her. She could never, and she did never, managed to escape this, to keep herself from thinking about her father's death and avoid suffering.

But the worst about having to heal and "get over" her father's loss, certainly was witnessing people, many, many people, badmouthing him. The man this young girl knew, the one she looked up to, the loving parent that took good care of her, that spoiled her to a fault, the first man that protected her and the first man she ever loved, the one man that treated her as a little princess and made her feel the most special little angel on earth, was gone forever... and the people, instead of being compassionate and protective about her, were all around spewing venom over her father's grave, shouting how bad of a man Elvis Presley supposedly was. And it all started since the day Elvis passed away, from the gossip in the book "Elvis: What Happened".

To little "Yisa" Marie, Elvis was a hero, just a hero... nothing more, nothing less.

But she didn't have him around anymore, to hug her and tell everything would be alright, or to put her at ease and say those things they said about him, those things that were hurting her so much, were all lies — even tho much wasn't, she didn't understand and it would've been good having her father there to make her feel safe.

All she had available now, to help her feeling closer to her daddy, to get to know him a little better for herself and maybe getting a good and sound advice from him, were books. Books with the family and friends own personal accounts on who Elvis was and what he did throughout his life. But those books... the same books that contained the good side of Elvis, contained many things a daughter doesn't want and doesn't need to know about her parent.

To who Lisa could run to, when needing a little support, a little help soothing her sorrow, her grief? Her mother. Now, the worst must have been having her own mother writing a memoir book where she accused Elvis of many shameful, monstrous even, actions and behavior (one of the vital books that tainted Elvis' image forever). Now, Lisa didn't have her father anymore, and her mother kinda looked like an enemy at times. She felt lost, alone, and didn't know why those people kept on talking so badly about someone she utterly loved so much and that gave her nothing but the deepest love she ever felt.

Reading gossip all the time, being asked about things written in book she couldn't possibly tell rather they were truthful or not; things written in books she probably didn't ever read to keep herself from getting even more hurt. Still, Lisa had to sit and hear all those hurtful things about her own father and she couldn't do much to defend him. She just sat there and probably feeling the words cutting her guts like knives being twisted nonstop. This little girl was deeply hurt many times in her life, and nothing could mend this part of her broken heart.

It made her angry the way she was forced to hear some people mocking her father. It maddened her how the press kept questioning her about rather Elvis was or wasn't a bad man. But she had to live with this and keep a straight face. She had to grow up faster than most children/teenagers do while the press - and a good part of the society - kept on trying to make Lisa hate a part of herself, her origin, her own family name. She saw her castle being crushed many times during her life, with only a few quick breaks, here and there, so she could take a deep breath and get herself together again, only so she could prepare herself to the next dark moment she sorely felt would come to find her, sooner or later.

On top of Elvis, Lisa had to deal with many more damaging situations throughout her life, AND I AM ONLY TALKING ABOUT HER FORMATIVE YEARS UNTIL NOW.

Because of her status in society, her name, her fame, her wealthy, she never knew if the ones around her were genuinely loving and caring for her or not (something her father also experienced as an adult, something that Elvis confessed to friends it made him hopeless since he would never know for sure if he had true love in his life or if the people around him were there to get something only he could offer, and something that wasn't his pure love at all. Imagine living a life where you never know if you are loved because of who you are or for what you have to offer. It must make one feels like they worth nothing, like they didn't deserve being loved.

Yes, Lisa was poured with Elvis' fans adoration and love, but its a different love, it's distant. It's a love not even Elvis himself could feel in his soul, even tho he loved his fans so much. He said to friends our, his fans love, was an impersonal kind of love because we didn't know him as a person, just as an image. He was right, back in his time people only knew Elvis' image. As much we adore them, Elvis and little Lisa couldn't possibly feel loved only from the fans adoration.

Not knowing if her friends really cared for her must have been lonely. Like she had nobody she could trust. We know Elvis felt like this.

Living this kind of life isn't easy, it would quickly take its toll on any of us. Lisa must have felt browsing in the ocean, all alone. She needed to escape from those uneasy feelings. So, she had some drug issues during her growing up period in life. I don't blame her, neither should you. Like Elvis sang, "Walk a mile in my shoes". You and I have no idea how it must be unbearable listening to people mocking at your family publicly; saying the meanest things about your father, some mean gossip about her mother too, here and there, and even mean rumors about herself, when people begun judging her body, her relationships, and so on.

Yet, Lisa continued being brave. She lived her life, her own way. Never caring what outsides may think of her. She got married some times, she had children and for a moment things seemed to be doing okay. But the worst thing could ever had happened to sweet Lisa, happened. Suddenly she was losing her only son, her loving beautiful boy, her Ben. All of those things that happened in that little girl's life until now, and then this, the most horrendous nightmare strikes her, breaking not only her heart but her soul, in a way she would never recover from.

Still, Lisa Marie continued being the bravest she could, for herself but mostly for the 3 beautiful daughters she had to be there for, but from now on things were never the same.

I still don't know about Lisa Marie's life in a deep. There's many more things, I'm sure, she had endure, she had to face in her lifetime [the broken relationships, not to mention the inner monsters she had to fight against every single day], but those things everybody knows are enough to make me feel empathetic towards her.

Of course, there's poverty in the world, there's people literally dying from starvation or from guns/knives and bombs - and we all feel deeply for them too, but that doesn't mean the famous and rich people don't suffer as well. Everybody has their own mountains to climb. And yes, I feel very empathetic for the emotional issues Lisa Marie Presley had to face after losing her father as a child, all the press abuse she experienced since a young age and then the tragic lost of her only son.

I'm not trying to make Lisa a saint, much less someone you should pity. Not in a million years. I know, we know, Lisa Marie was happy too. Not everything was darkness in her life. ✨ She managed to find happiness and bliss in the little things. She wrote beautiful, meaningful and deep songs; she performed live onstage graciously, even if it must have felt terrifying singing in front of an audience when people had unreal expectations on her because of her father. Lisa lived life her way. She gave her father's fans her love and affection the best way she could, all her life. She grew a loving family. She had 4 beautiful children. CONTINUOUSLY, SHE LIVED BOLDLY, DOING HER OWN THING, TAKING CARE OF BUSINESS, SEARCHING FOR HAPPINESS WHILE BEING THE STRONG, BRAVE WOMAN SHE WAS BORN BEING.

Lisa Marie Presley is an inspiring woman. She was humble, she was fearless, she was a rock star. ⚡

Unfortunately, Lisa was taken away from her family, from us, fans, too soon, exactly one year ago. But we will never forget her, not because of her father but because of her own soul, the life she created by herself.

Now, something to celebrate is that we, gladly, will read Lisa's own words about her life. About her father, certainly, but most importantly about herself and this is something to celebrate indeed. Elvis didn't had the same good fortune of having the time to collect his memories and writing a book that could speak up for him when he was no longer here. Thanks to Riley Keough, Lisa's beautiful daughter, Elvis' grandchild, Lisa will have this triumph, this final time to set the record straight.

I'm SO, SO, SO happy Lisa's memoir book will be released! She deserves having her story told by herself. Once again, Riley is being the real Presley she is. God bless her.

I love that GIF so much! It's clear to see how Lisa is emotional seeing her father's history being told in such a fair, not full of bullshit way. If we think about other Elvis biopics released previously, where in some Elvis is shown ridiculously talking to his shadow, even tho Baz Luhrmann's 2022 "Elvis" movie isn't 100% accurate, it was the closest we ever got to his real, full lifestory being portrayed. I feel happy the last her father's history portrayed onscreen she got to see was one that made her feel happy, proud and honored. That's all Lisa wanted all her life in what concerns to her daddy memory and legacy. I'm in peace knowing that, even tho she died so young, she was honored and witnessed at last her beloved father being honored and praised for the good, unique Rock and Roll hero, the pioneer, the legend he was.

I'm happy it made her happy. ♥

We miss you so much, EP and dear Lisa. Hope you're both happy reunited. Look down for us, sweet angels. We'll keep your memories alive. May God keep Lisa's angel soul in Heaven, peaceful and together with her beloved father and son.

We love you, Yisa. Thank you for living your life in such inspirational way.

Rest in peace, sweet princess. ♥

[muffinsin]

those two hurt/comfort and hurt no comfort were so well written like the rest of your other stories, so my request is, the sisters partner dies but the sisters are able to revive her with the cadou, how clingy would the sisters be?

Very glad to hear you like the other posts! :) this is an interesting concept!👀 needless to say, all three are CLINGY!

Let’s get into the details! ;)

Masterlist 1

Masterlist 2

Bela

Golden eyes stare widely at you when you enter the room

Bela doesn’t move, no, doesn’t even breathe. She just eyes you

Her brows furrow and her eyes thin to mere slits

You gulp

Bela ignores Cassandra’s proud words of the cadou implant having worked perfectly

She continues to eye you dangerously, taking in your slightly changed appearance

You’re taller due to the cadou, and your skin looks a little sickish

She immediately finds the scars on your flesh caused at your death

You gasp when she pushes past you, bumping into your shoulder roughly

Now, she is happy you’re back, but isn’t quite sure you’re hers again. She is cautious around you, on edge

It takes a little while for her to warm up to you again, to get used to your enhanced scent and new abilities

She grieved for you…Bela didn’t expect the cadou implant to bring you back to life. Seeing you walk about is a shock to her

When she at last mentally registers that this creature is you, she is as if glued to your side

She will demand all of your attention and not leave your side

She develops a heavy separation anxiety, the trauma of losing you fresh in her mind. The trauma of not being able to save you. Even if you have been saved in the end

Should she not see you, she panics. She can barely stand the short amount of time without you when you use the bathroom

She demands baths and showers to be taken with her, and if not Bela herself, you will always have some of her flies trailing behind you

She insists on sleeping on top of you. She doesn’t want anything to happen to you again

Soon, this separation anxiety of hers becomes a problem

She can’t eat or sleep without you, much less work or feel at ease when you aren’t around

The poor thing is completely scarred from losing you

When after 2 weeks there is no improvement in sight, you at last find ways to ease her stress and anxiety

Upon picking up fighting lessons from Cassandra, and being trained as you explore your new cadou-granted abilities, Bela feels a little more at ease even without you around

Knowing you can now defend yourself without her helps

After two more weeks, you are able to distance yourself a little, take baths and strolls through the garden without her

Bela can even work normally, although she will often send flies to check on you. Her favourite thing is to have you in the room with her, still. Just to ensure your safety

At last, in time, her anxiety reduces and is replaced by her typical clinginess consisting of secret, shy cuddles in her bed and sneaky kisses, hands held under the table and when the two of you share private moments

Cassandra

She spends day and night attempting to bring you back. Not resting, not eating, certainly not taking a break

When your eyelids open at last, she is startled

Before you know it, you feel strong arms around you and sharp nails digging into your sore shoulders

You’d complain, but allow the small pain when you hear sobs against your neck

This, and at your death, is perhaps the only time Cassandra ever cries

She can’t believe you’re back

She doesn’t care you are still on the surgery table, instead straddles you and completely wraps herself around you, inhaling your new scent

She smells the old, familiar one still underneath and it comforts her

Despite her typical facade of strength and toughness, Cassandra allows herself to be vulnerable with you now, alone in the basement with screams echoing in the distance

She isn’t one for words, but her trembling limbs and shaking shoulders, wet tears and broken cries and whimpers tell you all you need to know

With an arm around her back, and another hand in her hair, Cassandra eventually calms down

When she does, her gaze hardens and she punches your shoulder. “Don’t ever scare me like that again!”, she scolds angrily

She’s so relieved to have you back, even as you stare daggers at her for injuring your sore shoulder slightly.

She finds it adorable

Cassandra dislikes the thought of leaving your side in the first week of your return

She will stick close to you and snarl at any maiden and creature stepping too close to her beloved

Additionally, she insists you learn how to fight properly. Whether you want this or not, you are given lessons on how to defend yourself against all kinds of enemies

Lycans, most of all,

But also humans, wolfs, bears

She allows you to pick a weapon of your choice. She secretly loves training with you

She is very clingy for some time, although grants you your own space

When with her, in private, she will silently demand many cuddles and not once let go of your hand

She too sleeps on top of you, protecting your body from potential intruders, as well as to hear your heartbeat

Sometimes she still needs to remind herself this is real

Now this is quite random, but accurate: there is a lot of sex happening

She craves closeness and doesn’t want to show it, and what better way is there to be close to you than sex?

Aside from this eagerness- craving- to be close to you, Cassandra finds herself also ridiculously turned on from the effects of your transformation

One of them being the enhanced strength all with the cadou inside of them share

She will absolutely ask you to take advantage of this strength ;)

Daniela

She is OVER THE MOON!

The moment her golden eyes set on you, they widen

You barely have a moment to brace yourself before she swarms over and you feel her body clashing against yours as she jumps into your arms!

Her arms and legs wrap around you instantly, her lips on yours

She’s missed you so much! It was agony!

For the first few hours, Daniela and you are inseparable. She won’t want to let go of your hand, even goes as far as to whine when you gently tear her hand away to use the bathroom

From the outside you hear her claws against the door and her pitiful whines for you

She will spend all day catching you up and reading with you, and most importantly: cuddling

Then, when night comes, the storm brews

Just at night, when you two are in bed, her head jerks up, golden eyes staring widely and in fear

She refuses to touch you, and won’t tell you what’s wrong when her eyes water and thick tears roll down her cheeks out of the sudden

After much sobbing and scooting away from you, so far she ends up curled in the corner of her room, words pass her lips and she begins to explain

Daniela fears you aren’t real, merely a tool conjured by her, at times, delusional mind

You prove her wrong by effortlessly picking her up and holding her close to you. She is impressed at your strength

With your scent surrounding her and your arms tight around her, she calms again after an hour or so

She will still poke you occasionally

Daniela is the first sister to ask you to try the taste of your cadou-infected blood

She too insists you learn how to fight. This is not up to debate- she will not lose you again

Together with Cassandra, you are taught to be fast and strong

It is ensured you can never be taken down by a lycan again, and still Daniela promises to keep you safe with her life

As days pass, there is barely a reminder of your death. Barely;

If it wasn’t for Daniela’s ruthless nightmares that plague her sweet mind nearly all night every day

At times you find her clenching your shirt between her fingers as she sobs in her sleep

At other times the poor thing is shaking in your arms, barely awake with her cheeks wet

And at other times, you hear her rasp out your name between her cries

Thankfully, you know how to fix these awful moments for her

With her claws dug into your shirt to keep herself close, Daniela calms down quickly once you pull her tight against you and spoon her, arms wrapped around her tightly

She is the only sister to still blame herself for your death even as you return to her, for days, until you hear of this and reassure her plenty

[asimplearchivist]

"𝓘𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓶𝔂 𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓻𝓽?"

𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐘 𝐈 𝐨𝐟 𝐗𝐗𝐕

[𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓶𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓼𝓽'𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽] [ 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐊𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 ] AO3 | SPOTIFY | PINTEREST summary ☾ ⤏ you and the boys have a set of rules. jake doesn’t like it when you break them. pairing(s) ☽ jake lockley/reader-centric | constellations!verse word count ☾ 2.3k a/n ☽ ⤏ my first entry for the moon knight bingo hosted by @juneknight and @spacecowboyhotch over at @moonknight-events ! I will eventually crosspost this to the main fic for constellations on ao3 when it will best fit the chronological progression of the chapters! ☽ MASTERPOST ☾ ☾ ☥ ⤏ NEXT ENTRY ☽

You froze midstep, a loaded fork raised halfway to your gaping mouth as your rounded eyes darted over to Jake’s silhouette darkening the doorway, the fluorescent hallway lights accentuating the diaphanous material of his prized silk pajama top hanging from the topography of your form.

His question went unheard, and thus unanswered. The headphones covering your ears—set on the noise canceling feature, he knew all too well—had disguised the noisy, fumbling jangle of their keyring, the rasp of the tarnished key inserted into the jammy slot, and the rattle of the unyielding knob as he’d worked his way inside.

You had broken not one—not two—but three rules that they had long since established when you’d moved in with them for—primarily—the ease of travel and the ever-steepening cost of rent. Secondarily, of course, came the benefits of having an additional person to help maintain the neglected residence—chores and errands were remarkably less daunting now with one more pair of hands to fulfill the monotonous tasks involved. Tertiarily…well, waking up to the sight of you in their bed most mornings certainly had its perks, and it made them feel better knowing you were that much safer than living halfway across the city all alone.

Which was exactly why the rules had been established in the first place.

Marc had started them, of course—it should come as little surprise, that. He’d been transparent with you about the nature of his past, although he did omit the more gruesome details, and had made you aware of the fact that he was a wanted man. Thus the very first rule had been set in place—should anything dangerous ever happen involving his past mercenary work, you were to get to safety and wait until he came to you. Stay in public, stay in sight of cameras and civilians, stay away from the action. Of course you’d broken that the first time such a situation had cropped up and had gone directly south, but…that was neither here nor there, at this point. Fortunately, the incident had yet to have been repeated, and you were far better prepared now that he had taken the time to train you on protocol. He’d since made many more.

Steven added domestic ones over time—cutesy and saccharine in contrast to the first—and he invited you to, as well. They mostly revolved around your shared daily lives to set up a stable routine in the midst of your sometimes busy, stressful, and fast-paced lives, although there were a few errant ones sprinkled in that were odd by comparison. He’d eventually sat down and typed them up to print them out and pin them to the fridge, mostly as a joke, but that had devolved into a chart and to-do list thanks to yours and his tendencies to organize things.

Jake’s—while few and far between—were simple, blunt, and short, and rules never with which to be trifled due to his immovable stance on them: like working on the sabbath, allowing him to be a gentleman, or binging ahead on TV series that you both were watching together.

Some were harmless, some were important for the health of the relationship, some were rooted in inside jokes or straight up ridiculous…and some were intended to make sure that harm never befell you because of them, which was why Jake was not pleased in the slightest when—under any other normal circumstance—he would be ‘chuffed’ to see you, for lack of a better word.

Firstly, you hadn’t set up all the locks like you were supposed to do while they were out and you were at home by yourself.

Secondly, you had blocked out all sounds with those headphones—he couldn’t fault you for that, he knew you got overstimulated by noise sometimes (and he even resorted to using them himself at times when the world grew just this side of too loud), but they’d requested that you not use them while they were gone just on the off-chance that someone tried to break in.

Thirdly…perhaps not as egregious a mistake as the prior two, but…you’d cooked and cleaned the kitchen, when it had been agreed upon to split the job between each of you—one person would cook, then (on rotation, in their case), the other would clean, so that preparing the complex meals their individual diets required wouldn’t be so tedious an affair.

The chagrin creasing your expression told him that you knew exactly where you’d erred.

“Hola, chaparrita,” he crooned, pursing his lips to hide the twitch of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as you hurried over to the kitchen island to set down the bowl and to tug the headphones from your ears to hang around your neck. He could hear the music from where he stood, shutting the door behind him and rectifying your initial oversight. You fumbled your phone out of your pocket and paused the track before tucking it away once more. “Qué haces?”

“Hola, amor,” you greeted without meeting his gaze, moving over to the stove to dish up a bowl of pasta. You didn’t look up even as he approached, easing in behind you and sliding his hands around your waist to coil his arms around you. He heard you swallow as he hooked his chin over your shoulder. “How was the traffic?”

“Horrible,” he rumbled, eyes falling to the bowl in your hand, as well as the steam curling up towards his face. As delectable as it smelled, he wouldn’t be so easily distracted by food. “Didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”

“You’re honestly home sooner than I expected,” you confessed, voice quiet as you attempted to twist around—but he didn’t budge. “Here, it’s still warm. Steven forgot his lunch so I know you’re probably starving. Want to sit on the couch?”

“Que linda,” he chuckled, tilting his head to skim his lips along the sweep of your neck. You squirmed and shrank away with a noise of protest—the rasp of his five o'clock shadow against your sensitive skin always tickled. “Are you going to fess up or am I going to have to drag it out of you, hermosa? Hmm? Qué dices?”

You hesitated, setting the bowl to the side. It wasn’t long. You weren’t trying to make excuses. It was clear that you were perfectly privy to the implication of his low, even tone, and that you were merely ruminating on how best to soften his evident malcontent. Jake didn’t set his foot down in many matters, but when it came to his protectiveness over you…there was no winning on your end. Some might call him overbearing, but you (fortunately) found it endearing.

“Honestly?” you finally ventured, the tension in your frame dissipating as you sank back into his grasp with a blustery sigh. “I forgot.”

“You forgot the habits you’ve had for months?” he pressed, kissing the tender place below and behind your ear to feel you shiver.

“It…it’s a long story.” You craned your head back to return the gesture, bestowing one upon the arch of his wind-blistered cheek.

“Dime,” he murmured, squeezing you and pulling you more tightly against his frame. It was a miserably cold and rainy evening, and walking all the way from the parking garage on the other side of the block had made him consider moving out of England as soon as possible.

“Well, to begin,” you said tersely, though he could tell that it wasn’t directed at him—your repressed exasperation bubbled to the surface as you flicked off the burner and covered the pot with more force than you would normally, disliking making harsh sounds if you could help it, “I started in the middle of the day.”

“Marc warned you it was coming up,” he reminded you.

“I know, but my cycle is also a capricious bitch who’s more indecisive than me, so forgive me if it slipped my mind,” you returned flatly. “So I had to deal with all that during rush hour. Then a whole table came in right before closing and took up an extra thirty minutes because one of them couldn’t make up her mind if she wanted an English Breakfast or an espresso.”

“At ten o’clock,” he surmised.

“Obviously she didn’t need the sleep because she opted for a cold brew instead,” you continued, “like an absolute mad lad.”

“And then?” he prompted.

“Finally got them out of the door, locked up, headed home—then it started raining and just guess who forgot her umbrella this morning?”

“That wasn’t my fault this time,” Jake pointed out indignantly, “since mi hermanito can’t keep his hands to himself when you prance around here looking like that.”

“With baggy sweatpants and crusty eyes? Yeah, the real pinnacle of beauty, right there,” you huffed, although your fondness leaked into your tone. “So I got soaked running from the bus stop to here, dripped all over the floor, pissed off Miss Hutcherson in the process—”

“I’m sure I can smooth her feathers down for you,” he assured, reaching up to skim his fingers along the side of your head, curving around to grasp your chin gently so he could direct your eyes to meet his. “Nothing a little sweet talking can’t fix.”

“She loves you for your churros,” you groused while pouting, “and you should really stop getting involved in all the gossip in the building, it’s going to get you in trouble one day.”

“I’ve got to keep my ear to the ground, cariño; besides, it’s more entertaining than television,” he laughed quietly, muffling the sound by pressing his lips to your forehead in apology. “Did she give you a lecture?”

“On posing a falling hazard without her offering a towel so I could dry off or anything? Yeah.” You reached up and clasped your hands around the nape of his neck, delving your fingertips into his curls and succeeding in not jostling his cap. That rule, it seemed, would be one you did manage to keep tonight. “I finally got up here and had a disagreement with the doorknob—you or Marc need to oil it again, by the way—and dropped my bag trying to get everything locked up, dumped everything everywhere, got pissed off and showered after.”

Jake was doing his damndest to restrain the brunt of his amusement, but you apparently perceived the glitter of mirth in his eyes because you turned your head while rolling your eyes. “I’m glad you find my shitty day so funny.”

“It’s not funny, chaparrita,” he soothed. (It was hilarious.) “Do I need to jot all this down so we can publish the next best-selling kid’s book?”

“Oh, I’m not done yet,” you warned. “I started getting hot flashes and couldn’t get the water adjusted so I just about froze my ass off cleaning up. I nearly burned the butter and almost ran out of parmesan and the pepper grinder got stuck and…stop laughing, this is serious!”

Jake clamped his mouth shut as his eyes dropped to observe the colorful silk draped over the line of your shoulders. “Is that why you’re wearing my shirt?”

“It’s the coolest thing in the house and I sure as hell am not walking around naked since all three of you refuse to buy any decent curtains,” you griped.

“It looks better on you than it does on me, anyway,” Jake said, caressing your arm, side, and settling to grasp your hip. “You know where it would look the best, though?”

“Ha ha,” you scoffed. “Good luck on that front, jefe. We’re not adding having to wash murder-scene sheets to everything else I’ve dealt with today.”

“That all explains why you forgot to lock the door,” he digressed, “but what about these?” He tapped the headphones resting against your clavicle. “Don’t like you not being able to listen for the door.”

“The neighbors made up,” you deadpanned. “I’m lucky there was any hot water left.”

“Ah.” He nodded, acquiescing on that front, at least. “Already? They only lasted two days this time. She really ought to have higher standards.”

“Jake,” you groaned, “I don’t want to hear about her sordid trysts again. Especially after she hit on you on a rebound to get back at her ex…or whatever the hell he’s classified as now.”

“Fine,” he grinned. “...I take it that you did the dishes to distract yourself?”

“The only thing louder than them was the screaming inside my head, so…yeah.”

“Lamento que hayas tenido un día tan malo, mi vida,” he said softly, tugging you into the crook of his arm so your head rested against his shoulder. He cupped your cheek and kissed you properly this time, humming in satisfaction as he felt you relax fully. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you returned. “I’m sorry I forgot the other stuff. I didn’t mean to.”

“I know. Just try to remember next time.” He bopped the end of your nose with his finger, smirking as you went cross-eyed for just a moment before you frowned. “I’d rather not have anything other than a series of mildly inconvenient events happen to you.”

“If this happens again anytime soon, I’m holing myself up in bed and hibernating,” you grumbled. “Everything else be damned.”

“And I’ll wait on you hand and foot until the world is deemed fit enough for you to light upon its unworthy surface once more,” he purred. “But for now I’ll kiss it better, yes?”

That did the trick—as his flirtations usually did.

You glanced away, flustered, but allowed him to herd you over to the couch, bowls in hand, and settled you under a blanket to keep your bare feet warm, despite your claims not to need it.

“Just indulge me. At this rate you’ll get hypothermia or frostbite,” he quipped, “and I don’t really feel like digging frozen toes out from between the cushions after the idiocy I witnessed on the road tonight.”

[imightgetbetter]

sweaty nights

maybe just maybe i am back! i've been in a bit of a writing slump and i am trying to ease back into it so i will be writing smaller pieces this week to try and build up to a bigger one! i really, really like this one so please be kind. as always, send your thoughts and make sure you like and reblog! it helps me out immensely. i might do a week of dad!matty stuff to ease into writing things and just have a good time. let me know what you think.

Matty’s grunts could be heard over the baby monitor that was set on the shelf above where the crib should be, where the crib will be when he finishes building it. His chest is covered in a thin sheen of sweat, which can be seen in just the right light as the sun sets through the open window. Her nursery is nearly fully complete, the geometric, multi-colored shapes cover the walls and the trinkets that you’ve been collecting for the last nine months decorate the shelves. Her initials, ‘AJH’ are set above the open space for the wooden crib, something that Matty has been putting this off for months, quite literally, and now that you’re only a few weeks away, you’ve told him that either he builds the crib or you will, to which he nearly jumped out of his seat at the dinner table and knocked over his glass of wine, earning a laugh from you and a sigh as you started clearing the table.

His disgruntled swears echo down the hallway as you walk towards the nursery, loosely dressed in your favorite night shirt (a massively oversized men’s t-shirt that would probably even swim on your husband’s frame) and cozy socks that you know you won’t be able to put on yourself much longer. His back is to you, tense and tight as he hunches over the different screws and wooden planks and the directions that he seemingly hasn’t opened more than a handful of times. Matty wanted to do this himself, like he wanted to do the rocking chair and the changing table, and you had full confidence in his ability to do so, although the glass of wine certainly wouldn’t be helping him in this scenario. He is oblivious to you leaning on the door frame, your hands rubbing over your swollen belly as you watch his movements carefully. He’s nervous, you can tell, the anxiety looming over both of you as you realize that this is really happening, and it’s happening soon, less than a month away.

“I don’t think that arguing with the inanimate objects is going to help you build the crib any faster. Do you?”

Matty lets out a breathy laugh and spins around to face you, his hand wiping away at the sweat on his forehead. He leans back on his hands, looking at you admirably. “I mean, I suppose not, but it was worth a shot to be able to tell you that I did it all by myself, wasn’t it?”

“I would be more impressed with you not arguing with wood and getting this done before half past midnight,” you smirk, looking down at your stomach and adding in, “Daddy doesn’t like to listen very well, Attie James.” Attie twirls at the sound of your voice and Matty jumps to his feet when you laugh. “Have a very active girl in here. Tell Daddy you’re fine, Attie.”

Matty lays his hands over your stomach, his thumbs brushing over where the tiny indents of her hands and feet mark against your stretched skin. He knows this hasn’t been easy for you, the months of sickness and the nausea, the aches and pains, the stress and inability to move around in the way you like, but seeing you excited and moving around in these last few weeks has relieved so much worry aching his chest. “Hey there, baba. Can you be a good girl and go to bed so I can romance your mummy later when I’m done building your crib?”

“Matthew!”

Matty laughs, leaning against the carpet and kissing over your stomach, whispering something you can’t quite make out before standing on his feet and reaching to kiss you, his lips wet and warm against your own. “I’m trying to seduce you as much as I can before you never want to touch me again.”

“You are so dramatic.”

“You think you’re going to want me to touch you after you have a baby? I’ll happily be proven wrong by this, baby, but I don’t think I am,” Matty smirks against your lips, kissing you once more before pointing towards the rocking chair and returning to his place on the ground beside the wooden planks and opened screws.

“Many women have told me that it’s the opposite,” you say, rubbing over your stomach and closing your eyes, the cool breeze from the open window washing over you as the night begins to set in. “I can’t wait to see you with a baby in your arms. I think it’s going to make me crazy actually. Our baby girl in your arms. Going to make me want you so badly and I won’t be able to do anything for at least two months.”

“Fuck,” he grunts, releasing the screwdriver and the wooden planks and turning around slightly to glance over at you, his stomach swirling with butterflies and his heart swelling with the sight of you and your hand over your stomach, “you know you can’t say things like that to me, darling. You’re going to get me all worked up and I’ll never get this bloody crib done, and then you’ll be proper mad at me.”

“Get working, then. I want to take you to bed.” Matty huffs and mumbles something under his breath, opening the direction pamphlet and beginning to set the correct pieces together and screw everything in the right place, stopping every so often to drop a kiss to your lips and laugh when you snap a picture of his backside, telling him that it’s for memories. “You’re going to make such a hot dad, you know? Like a proper DILF.”

“Too bad that’s not how you told me you were pregnant,” Matty laughs, shaking his head at the thought. “Imagine just showing up the studio or something and saying, ‘You’d make a good DILF!’ and that’s how you announced you’re pregnant. I think I’d lose my fucking mind.”

“I’ll have to keep that one in the back pocket, then. Keep it in mind for the next one.”

“The next one?” Matty says, twisting the screwdriver tightly in place and ensuring that every wooden piece and screw is where it should be, the pieces slowly dwindling on the ground and the crib beginning to inch up, piece by piece.

“You think I’m going to want to stop after this one? No way. I need at least one more. I need to see your arms full of our babies. Fully decked out in tea party outfits and glitter and a baby carrier. Need to see all of it.”

“Don’t worry, darling. I’ll get you pregnant, again. I had too much fun doing it the first time.”

[keanuquotes]

The Enduring Appeal of Keanu Reeves He battles evildoers in 'John Wick 4,' manufactures two-wheel pieces of art, and is worshiped by the internet, but Keanu Reeves swears he's just a normal guy. And he’s got the scars to prove it. Ky HendersonMar 15, 2023 9:00 AM EDT It’s easy to look cool when you’re riding a motorcycle, but it’s hard to look cooler than Keanu Reeves on a brisk, sunny afternoon in Los Angeles. He rests his left hand on his thigh and steers with his right, which gooses the throttle as he weaves around slow drivers. He wears a form-fitting black canvas motorcycle jacket that accentuates how trim he is—even more fit than he appears on-screen—and a beat-up Shoei helmet. He leaves the visor up, choosing instead to shield his eyes with sunglasses the Terminator might wear to a Hamptons garden party. Reeves looks at home and at ease on a motorcycle. He looks cool.

At a gas station stop, he suggests switching bikes. We’re each riding cruisers made by Arch, the motorcycle company Reeves co-founded with designer Gard Hollinger in 2011. The company produces high-end, highly personalized production bikes; I’m on a 1s, the company’s new $100,000+ sport cruiser. Reeves is on an older model, KRGT-1, but it’s his personal Arch, a true one-of-a-kind. It's the only Arch ever painted YK Blue, a color Reeves and Hollinger commissioned based on the ultramarine pigment famously mixed by mid-century French artist Yves Klein. Reeves says all that’s left of the paint is in a tiny can stored somewhere at Arch in case the bike’s paint ever needs touch-ups.

Which it most certainly would if, let’s say, some idiot were to put the bike down in front of a horrified Reeves while riding down the Pacific Coast Highway. Thankfully, there’ll be no lowsides today. Although the bike is beefy, with a 2,032cc V-twin powerplant, it’s easy to maneuver and comfy as a BarcaLounger.

Keanu Reeves stands in motorcycle factory holding blue mug Brian Bowen Smith

Reeves eventually leads us back to Arch’s factory building, which is nondescript from the outside but artfully decorated inside using shipping containers to separate working areas. Metal fabrication is done behind one; customer bikes are lined up in another with technicians hard at work. After Reeves dips outside for a cigarette—the 58-year-old both looks like a much younger man and smokes with the frequent abandon of one—he leads us to a small conference room.

“I like meeting people, but I’m a little reserved,” he warns as he settles into an office chair, looking far less comfortable than he did on a motorcycle. “How much of my private life do I want to talk about? I don’t know. Otherwise, let’s hang out.”

When Reeves was growing up in the Yorkville neighborhood of Toronto, he was consumed with existential thoughts. He discussed death a lot more than the average 11-year-old, for instance—but not because he wanted to die. He just wanted answers to big questions. Perhaps not entirely unrelated to his interest in mortality, he was also obsessed with the biker gangs that periodically motored into the neighborhood. It wasn't pods of dentists letting loose on weekends. It was leathers, patches, menace—the whole deal. And Reeves loved it.

“They looked exotic,” Reeves says. "They looked to me like they were free. Plus the bikes were cool and sounded great.”

Despite his childhood fascination, Reeves was in his early 20s before he first rode a motorcycle. It happened at a movie studio in Berlin—where else?—when he saw a woman on an off-road enduro bike in a parking lot. He approached her and asked if she’d teach him to ride, which she agreed to on the spot. (If you’re wondering why a woman would do that for a total stranger, search “Keanu Reeves in the 80s” in Google Images.)

Not long after he got back to Los Angeles, he bought a 1973 Mk2a Norton Commando, having long admired the classic brand. That bike currently sits in the Arch shop, which is notable for two reasons: One, few longtime riders are lucky enough to be able to hold onto their first bike. Two, over the years Reeves has…suffered some mishaps.

“Yeah, I’ve fallen off a few times,” he admits of the accidents he’s had on a variety of bikes. He takes a swig of water, then corrects himself. “Not ‘fallen off.’ Crashed. I’ve got a couple of hit-by-cars. A couple of going-too-fast. I’ve laid a couple of bikes down but I was riding in the winter, so that’s not really ‘crashing.’ That’s about it. The usual stuff.”

He’s broken ribs, knocked out teeth, sliced his leg open so deep that bone was visible. His most spectacular accident occurred in 1988, only a couple years after that day in Berlin. Reeves was riding alone at night in Malibu’s Topanga Canyon when he took one of the twisties too fast. By the time he came to a stop, he was lying on the pavement wondering if he was about to die. As you know, he didn’t—but he did fuck himself up pretty bad.

“I ruptured my spleen,” he says matter-of-factly. The widely reported version of the story goes that he needed the organ removed, but Reeves says it’s still intact. “They sutured it up and put a Band-Aid on.” He has a gnarly scar running vertically from his sternum down to his belly button, but in the right light it just ends up accentuating his abs because, well, he’s Keanu.

Reeves first met Hollinger through a mutual acquaintance about two decades after that crash, when Reeves wanted a custom sissy bar—basically, a backrest for a passenger—added to his 2005 Harley Davidson Dyna. Hollinger, who at that point was a relatively well-known, well-respected customizer with his own small LA shop, wasn’t interested.

“I knew I could build him the world’s most expensive sissy bar,” Hollinger says, “but I also knew it wouldn’t be satisfying for either of us.”

Instead, Hollinger spent the next five years completely reimagining the bike. He’d work in spurts, changing or adding something, then handing the bike back over to Reeves for months. By the time the bike was finished, Hollinger says, about the only parts of the original Dyna still remaining were the engine and the serial number on the chassis. Today that bike—a chromed-out ride fit for Mad Max—is displayed in the shop, the inspiration for what eventually became Arch.

Keanu Reeves on motorcycle wearing black canvas jacket and sunglasses Brian Bowen Smith

Eventually being the key word. When, during the long process of modding the bike, Reeves first suggested to Hollinger that the two team up to start a motorcycle company, Hollinger didn’t have to think about his answer.

“I knew what a tough business it is, what a challenge it would be—and that it would not be a great investment,” Hollinger, now 63, says with a laugh. “It was a wonderful motorcycle I built and it was wonderful getting to know Keanu, but starting a motorcycle company sounded like a horrible idea.”

Reeves didn’t relent. As the pair became better friends—and as the motorcycle continued to take shape—they’d have long conversations about the realities of starting the company. Hollinger would show up to their discussions with pages of questions written on a legal pad, but what gradually eroded his hesitation was the thoughtfulness with which Reeves described the experience of riding a motorcycle.

Finally, nearly convinced, Hollinger asked Reeves to boil everything down to one reason why they should do something as seemingly crazy as starting a motorcycle company. The actor came up with it on the spot—a reason Hollinger immediately understood, which allowed him to envision the company and its worth as an opportunity to do something meaningful and long-lasting.

“Because,” Reeves told him, channeling the mortality-obsessed 11-year-old kid gawking at dudes on motorcycles, “we’re going to die.”

Related: 2023 Arch 1s Sport Cruiser Is the American (V-twin) Dream

There have been many jokes made over the years about Reeves being a dummy, but after spending about 8 seconds with the guy it’s obvious he’s keenly intelligent. I mention that I read lots of sci-fi and fantasy books as a kid, which prompts him to ask whether I have opinions on several titles, followed by recommendations to read several others.

Thing is, his idiosyncratic public persona—which is sort of like Ted (not Bill) if Ted were a little more shy and a much better dresser—isn’t an act. Reeves isn’t trying to fool his critics or fans. And he isn’t really putting on an act in an attempt to prevent people from knowing who he is. He’s just this very singular, introspective, likable person who happened to become a pop culture icon.

All of that said? He can be pretty goofy. His physical mannerisms are sometimes at odds with what he’s saying, like he’s being controlled by feuding puppeteers. He speaks haltingly, stopping and starting and stopping again, often all in the same sentence, as he considers what exactly he wants to say or, just as likely, what he doesn’t want to say. More than once over the course of an afternoon he giggles—yes, giggles—at something he says or thinks, placing his cupped hand over his mouth like a theatrical school child hiding laughter; the gesture is as strange as it is endearing. He's somehow both laconic and verbose, calm and keyed up.

Although Reeves has long been known as “The internet’s boyfriend,” he’s currently dating—sorry, internet—acclaimed visual artist Alexandra Grant. The pair first collaborated on the 2011 book Ode to Happiness after having known each other previously; in the following years they collaborated on other projects and co-founded the small book imprint X Artists’ Books. Their romantic relationship began about five years ago but only became public knowledge two years in, when they arrived at a red carpet event together.

When asked about Grant, Reeves leans back in his chair as though trying to put both metaphorical and literal distance between himself and the idea of discussing his personal life.

So, uh, maybe it’s best to make it about bikes: What’s Grant’s opinion of Reeves’ (occasionally injurious) motorcycle fixation?

“She used to have a motorcycle, so she’s fine with it,” Reeves says. Then he pauses, as he so often does, seemingly considering whether to say anything more. “She hasn’t ridden in a while.”

Despite his lifelong love of bikes, Reeves hasn’t ridden them much in his movies. There’s a brief scene in the landmark 1991 indie film My Own Private Idaho. There’s some riding in 1996’s Chain Reaction, including one scene in which he manages to outrun an exploding hydrogen reactor. He’s technically on a bike in John Wick 3 while battling bad guys, but that was all done while stationary in front of a green screen. He has no interest in shoehorning Arches into his movies, though a couple of Arches are featured in the futuristic 2020 video game Cyberpunk 2077, in which he also played a major role.

Reeves says there’s a brief motorcycle scene in the upcoming John Wick 4, a movie whose eventual existence might have been laughed at when the original film debuted. Despite the series’ current status as an unstoppable franchise juggernaut, it originally wasn’t even planned as a franchise—and it certainly didn’t appear destined to be one after John Wick received a somewhat tepid theatrical reception in 2014.

“It had some success in the theater, but it really became more popular in second viewings,” Reeves says. “So the studio asked if we wanted to do another one.”

Reeves does more than just kick unbelievable amounts of ass in the movies; he’s also had a hand in plotting out the sequels. The genesis of the third and fourth installments, he says, took place while he and director Chad Stahelski were on the road promoting the second and third movies, respectively.

“Generally, Chad and I cook ’em up while we’re doing press tours,” Reeves says. “We talk about what we’d do next if the current film does well. I’m like, ‘I want to ride a horse and do a horse chase!’ And Chad says, ‘Yeah, we can do it in Central Park!’”

Reeves says he doesn’t know what comes next for him, but John Wick 5 will almost certainly be an option—if he wants to do it. He’s currently developing a TV series, and maybe he’ll make the motorcycle road movie he’s long thought about making. He’ll also no doubt continue riding bikes and growing Arch because he loves doing both.

He says he may continue BRZRKR, the comic series he co-writes. He won’t stop helping others via his philanthropy (he declines to discuss other than to say it’s “in health and the arts”). And he’ll burnish his already-glowing reputation as, in his words, “a pretty respectful and considerate person,” because that’s how he likes to treat people.

“I’m just,” Reeves says as his mouth curls into a smirk and his arms shoot out in front of him as though he’s pleading to be believed, “a normal guy.”

via keanuworld

[jihyocentric]

Jihyo loves being used and the members know that so they will just use her whenever. One day jihyo is nust watching tv and gp!nayeon comes in and drags her to her knees and fucks her throat, cums on her face and walks away like its just a normal occurence. Later that day when shes in the kitchen jeongyeon comes in bends her over the table and fucks her hard but makes sure she also cums

jihyo gasps as nayeon pulls her face away in a sudden act of care, a grin laying out on her lips as she slaps jihyo’s face with her wet cock, cooing at the sound of a whine that comes sharply between jihyo’s gasps. the younger was clearly struggling to breathe.

nayeon always had her fun with her, relishing at the way jihyo’s jaw stretched to take her in, at how she cried when her cock was buried deep in her throat, moaning and grasping nayeon’s thighs desperately, but never telling her to stop.

“almost there, baby,” nayeon pulls her head further back by the hair, making jihyo’s knees give away. jihyo falls back against the carpet, sitting was the best she could do, being held tight by the grip of nayeon’s hand on hair, mouth open for whenever nayeon wishes to use it.

nayeon mutters a small ‘breathe’ and takes her cock back into the warmth of jihyo’s mouth, hard and thick, making jihyo gag as she prods at her throat. she grunts once she lodges herself in the deepest she could, thrusting hurriedly into jihyo’s mouth, as if she had other things to do.

jihyo looks up, her face a mess, stained with fresh tears and cum, the skin heated under nayeon’s touch, a deep, red color adorning her cheeks — and her neck, where nayeon had her hands around before she decided to let jihyo breathe.

“there you go,” nayeon sighs, eyes closing as she relaxes, head falling back as she comes, spilling her seed down jihyo’s throat, her hand keeping jihyo’s head in place as she unloads.

nayeon looks down when jihyo gags, slipping out of her mouth with an even bigger grin, the last jets of cum falling thick against jihyo’s cheeks.

she casually leaves then, putting her softening cock back inside her boxers, unfazed with the way jihyo coughed, still catching a breath.

jeongyeon was one of the few of them that actually asked before touching her. not that jihyo minded if they did or not, as she gave them her consent to touch her whenever they wanted or had to, as long as there was nobody around but them.

jihyo sighs at the feeling of warm lips kissing her neck, knowing by how gently the person touches her that it’s jeongyeon. she was about to set the table, but the moment jeongyeon’s arms wrap her waist, she drops the folded tablecloth, leaning against jeongyeon's touch.

“may i have dessert first?” jeongyeon asks, cock straining against pants, thick bulge pressed against jihyo’s ass.

“please.” jihyo whispers back, raising her arms for jeongyeon to take off her shirt.

and that’s all jeongyeon needs to do to have her bare, as jihyo avoided wearing too many clothes on their days off, knowing fully well that she wouldn’t need them.

and so jeongyeon bends her against the cold surface of the table, less gentle now that jihyo had given her consent.

jeongyeon might show concern more often than the others, but she was certainly one of the roughest. she barely takes her pants off before sinking herself inside jihyo, cock poking into her with ease due to the wetness already waiting for her between jihyo’s thighs.

she pulls one of jihyo’s legs up on the table, giving herself an easier access to her soaked pussy, allowing herself to move faster when she hears jihyo’s soft moans, getting encouraged by them. jeongyeon grabs jihyo’s hip with a hand, slapping her ass as she fucked her, leaving a reddening stain on her skin the shape of her hand.

although jihyo tries to be quiet, sometimes she fails, whimpering and crying out with every sharp thrust, only stopping when jeongyeon presses her head against the cold table and selfishly tells her to be quiet, as she wanted jihyo all to herself before the others could hear them.

unlike nayeon, who’d sometimes leave jihyo untouched, jeongyeon makes sure jihyo comes with her, sticking her fingers inside jihyo’s mouth to get them wet enough, then bringing them where jihyo needed the most.

“feels good to be used like this, huh?” jeongyeon teases, fingers caressing jihyo’s clit lazily, unlike her powerful thrusts. she coos when she earns jihyo’s eager nod, putting more pressure on her fingers, rubbing the nub faster, on the right pace.

“l-love it, unnie!” jihyo grabs tight on the edge of the table, clamping around jeongyeon’s thick, lengthy cock, letting out a pitiful moan as she comes undone.

jeongyeon grunts at the tightness, hands close to jihyo’s, holding onto the table as she fucked jihyo harder through her orgasm.

she releases a louder moan when her cock twitches, starting to unload inside the warmth that surrounded her, hips flush against jihyo’s ass until she there wasn’t a single drop left for her to come.

she pulls out then, marveling at how flushed jihyo’s pussy looked now, freshly fucked, with her cum dripping down her thighs.

“my turn now!” sana suddenly walks in, with a bulge visible to their eyes, ruining jeongyeon’s plans of taking jihyo a second time.

[mara-xx217]

Ending H (Fear & Hunger) Ch. 9- Just a Little Comfort

You've only known them for a few hours, maybe less, but they are probably the most genuine person that you've ever met... You wouldn't mind sharing a moment of comfort with them... You certainly need it...

Warnings:  Strangers to Lovers, Porn w/o Plot, Nosramus is Polite, Potions as Lube, Fingering, Oral, Needy Sex

You shifted in place, slightly embarrassed from the proposition that was offered to you but not at all offended or turned off by it. The person that sat opposite of you, Nosramus, gave you a soft smile that warmed you to the core. You fiddled with your gloves as you cleared your throat, nervously breaking the intense eye contact that they have held with you since the moment the two of you first met only hours earlier in the abandoned mines. 

“I… hehehe…” You almost couldn’t believe it to be true. The silvered haired stranger giggled a little too, placing the back of their pale wrist to their lips. Nosramus’s long, thin fingers curled as they smiled again. 

“Perhaps I was a bit too direct with such a request? Forgive me, I have been alone for quite some time… It appears that my manners are little to be desired-” You shook your head with more vigor than you intended but it was already far too late to hide your eagerness. 

“N-No… No, that’s not true… I am… flattered.” You scooted a little closer to them. 

A part of you was greatly nervous. Genuinely, you didn’t believe this Nosramus to be ill intended. You couldn’t help but to stay a little guarded, both for survival's sake and so you wouldn’t utterly embarrass yourself in front of them. They shifted so that their sides were flushed against yours. Their body was somehow soft and boney, thin but not emaciated… though it was difficult to tell from underneath those thick robes.

“Hmm… I never thought myself adept with flattery…” Nosramus tilted their head down as they looked at you. Their long, white hair was soft and smelled clean, with a slight undertone herbal spice that tickled your nose. You bit the inside of your cheek as their clear, grey eyes wandered across the features of your face. 

“I believe I excel more with truth speaking. And you are lovely and someone I would rather enjoy sharing myself with.”

Oh. 

You were already charmed before, but now you were utterly smitten. Perhaps under more normal circumstances, things wouldn’t have progressed as they had. You wouldn’t have been so at ease, so willing and excited… But down here in this terrible place, you were in desperate need of relief and comfort… and if another person that showed you kindness in this place wanted that same kind of comfort and relief… Well, you wouldn’t mind sharing a moment of weakness with them. 

The kiss was a chaste one but one that was full of passionate need. Their lips were softer than you anticipated, far softer than your own chapped and scabbed ones, but it didn’t dissuade Nosramus in the slightest. A large but thin hand was placed onto your thigh as another gently slid its way over your temple and to the back of your head. The skin of their hands was rough from several lifetimes of work and calloused, but still dexterous and gentle. Nosramus pulls away from the kiss but kneads both the back of your head and your thigh as you contemplate on chasing their lips for another kiss.

Nosramus carefully untangles their fingers from the back of your head. You instantly missed the contact, but were satisfied when they placed a gentle peck to your partially parted lips. 

“I would like-” You cut them off with a kiss. Rather than be taken aback, Nosramus giggles softly and kisses you back, although briefly, before pulling away once more.

“-to grab something that would make things more pleasant for you.” Butterflies flutter in your stomach as you nod, somewhat surprised that they cared for such a thing but overall pleased that it seemed that you were justified in placing trust in this person that you hardly knew to fuck you with at least some dignity and grace. “How thoughtful…” You removed your gloves and tossed them aside as Nosramus reached for a vial that contained a sort of bluish-grey liquid. Oh, that- Your heart slammed against your ribcage. They would use something so expensive on you? Foreplay has hardly started and you already feel like you are about to explode. They smiled and laughed softly to themself. You felt your face and your loins heat up and you had to look away from them. 

It was like looking at some divine being, not laughing at you, not with you, but in genuine self joy and contentment…  

“Would you remove your clothing for me?” Nosramus’s hand was on your raised knee. Your legs were still slightly apart from when they were leaning on top of you. Can you really get naked in a place like this, in front of someone you hardly know? 

You were already removing the light armour that you wore and kicking off your shoes. Perhaps your eagerness was foolish and spoke ill of your character, but the alchemist said nothing and seemed pleased with your willingness to participate in this intimate activity. It was somewhat of a relief to be rid of your grime and gore soaked clothing. It was somewhat unnerving to be so vulnerable in front of another in this place, yet it was also arousing, too. Like willingly playing a dangerous game and enjoying the high of adrenaline and uncertainty that coursed through your veins… You never really thought much of yourself, but Nosramus enjoyed what they saw and it was evident on their face and in how their hands immediately began to wander your body. 

“You are lovely, indeed…” Their voice was soft but loud enough so you could hear them clearly as they leaned down to kiss you once more. Again, the kiss was fleeting, but you hardly minded as their lips left a trail from the corner of your mouth down to your neck. 

It was impossible not to cringe away from the contact. Nosramus instantly stopped, pulling away as they searched your face with furrowed brows. You quickly pulled them back down, muttering how you’ll tell them to stop if you didn’t like it. Satisfied with this answer, they leaned back down and placed their grey lips to your heated skin. 

You arched your back and sighed as the overwhelming sensation of fear and uncertainty swiftly morphed into tingling pleasure. Your whole body was sensitive, twitching and jerking as Nosramus’s fingers gently mapped your collarbone, your ribs, your sides, your hips… Their kisses shift further down to your heaving chest. You screw your eyes shut and bite back a moan as they take one of your nipples into their mouth. The warmth of their mouth and the softness of their tongue on your clammy skin was a pleasant contrast that made a throbbing heat pool between your thighs. 

“H-Hmm…~” 

The taste of blood hits your tongue as you rip open a scab on your lower lip. You allow Nosramus to part your legs further, blushing and ultimately covering your face with your forearms as they kiss their way down your abdomen. 

“I hope you can forgive me… I am rather… out of practice in this regard…” As if they need to apologize to you. You would have said as much if the sudden sensation of their wet lips and warm tongue against your sex hadn’t taken you completely off guard. 

“O-Ohh…!” 

For a brief moment, you felt guilty for bucking your hips into the alchemist’s face, but when they hummed softly and grabbed your hips, shouldering your legs over either of their shoulders as they enveloped you fully… S-Shit-! 

Shamefully, you reached climax rather quickly. It built up so suddenly…! You grabbed two handfuls of silver locks and pulled harder than you intended as you were cumming, but Nostramus only groaned softly into you as their tongue worked its wonders… They didn’t pull away when you finished, rather, they took the vial they grabbed earlier and popped it open, coating the fingers on one of their hands before swiftly lining it up with your entrance. 

“A-Ah-? O-Oh… s-shit…” 

It didn’t hurt at all. You were very aroused but your body was still incredibly wound up and unable to relax. You could feel how tight you were but there was absolutely no discomfort as Nosramus slowly thrusted their fingers into you. All the while, they still worked on you with their mouth, licking and sucking on you in just the right way, in all the right places, that another orgasm quickly rose inside of you and was pulled forth from the alchemist’s thin fingers.

Even as you were winded and still shaking from your climax, you knew that it wasn’t fair. You want to make Nosramus feel good too… It was hard to think clearly as they continued to rub that blue liquid all over your nethers, but you managed to grab both their wrist and the front of their robes. 

“I- I… I- I want-” You tug at their clothing once more. Nosramus, mostly obscured by their thick hair, smiled and nodded. 

“Oh, how selfish of me…” They chuckled to themself. 

The silvered haired alchemist pulls away from between your legs, a soft whimper escaping you as you were left empty and still wanting. You waited in anticipation as Nosramus pulled their robe over their head. They were particular in carefully folding the garment and placing it aside before turning back to you.

The candlelight was rather dim but it was as though they held a soft glow in this light. Or perhaps you’ve gone a bit mad… Even completely bare, you struggled to discern their gender. Their shoulders weren’t quite broad but they weren’t a soft slope either. Their chest was soft but not full. Their hips aren't wide yet not narrow… You struggled to take your eyes off of them as you raise to your elbows, toes curling and legs tensing in anticipation. They are so… beautiful… And handsome! You could take them now… But- No, no, you want to give what you have received. 

“H-Hey…” You started as Nosramus moved closer to you. They paused, looking at you as they tilted their head to the side. So much hair… You mindlessly grab a few locks of their hair and rub it between your fingers. 

“Would it be okay if I…” You lick your chapped lips as your eyes trailed down their body, settling on their lap and their partially hidden erection. The corners of Nosramus’s eyes crinkle in aroused amusement as they giggle. 

“Oh! I would love nothing more…” Their voice lowered to a purr as their eyes became hooded. They fluttered their long, white lashes as they traded places with you. 

Nosramus had no reservations about sharing their naked body with you. In a way, you envied how comfortable they were with stretching out before you, spreading their legs apart so that nothing was left to your imagination. And… Oh…? 

Something had caught your eye, but instead of jumping straight to it, you scooted your way between their legs and leaned down to give them a kiss. Your stomach fluttered pleasantly as Nosramus wrapped their delicate arms around your neck. You flicked your tongue out and hummed to yourself as the alchemist parted their lips, deepening the kiss while pressing their thighs against your hips. 

You slip one of your hands down their side, gently grabbing their skin and squeezing it as you make your way to their hips. Nosramus shudders softly as your thumb caresses the skin just above their pubic area. You break the kiss and nearly pause to make sure that they are okay, but swifty resume your movements as they sigh and spread their legs further apart so you have more access to their nethers. 

“Hmm… Your skin is so soft…” The alchemist chuckles breathlessly as you mouth at their neck. You slide your palm towards their erection, curiosity still burning hot in the back of your mind as you feel a soft mound slightly give way before the edge of your pinky finds their length. 

“Mmhmm…~”  Nosramus watches you shift down towards their lap, watching you keenly as your eyes widen slightly in realization. 

“Oh?” So you weren’t wrong then! This is… interesting. 

It gave you pause only because it was so… different to you. The alchemist’s cock was like any other you had seen: a bit on the lengthy side but average in girth, matching the paleness of the rest of their body only instead of being attached to a set of testicles underneath, the underneath base their shaft splits open, into what is very clearly a fairly ordinary looking vagina. Their lips were puffy and mostly closed, but you could see wetness shining in the dim light and in the midst of your fascination, you had grown silent. 

“Strange, isn’t it?” You blink, a knot forming in your stomach as you realize you’ve likely offended them. Nosramus’s tone is gentle and even and their face is as relaxed as it has been since the beginning of your little sexual adventure. Their fingers brush against yours and travel against a part of their length, all the way down to their puffy, pink lips. You almost shook your head, but you paused as they pulled one side of themself open, revealing more of themself to you. 

“A little…” You confess. It felt wrong to lie to the alchemist, especially now, given that you’re seeing a part of them that they likely haven’t shared with many others.

“It’s not unpleasant in any way though. It’s…” You reached out and brushed your fingers against Nosramus’s hand. It was pretty, in a way. It was…-

“Oh, you will make me blush…” Your heart jumps up to your throat as your bed companion’s hand gently pulls you closer to their sexes. Did… you say that outloud? You worried your sore lower lip as your finger traces the swell of their arousal. 

“Would you- Is it okay if I-” Your nethers begin to tingle as Nosramus breathlessly says ‘yes’. 

You had a mind to use the rest of the blue vial they had used on you. You didn’t need to make sure they were okay with it. Their hips shifted in anticipation as you coated your fingers. Excitement was getting the better of them but you liked the change in their demeanor. It was subtle, but their body couldn’t hide how much they craved your touch. As you traced their soft lips, their cock twitched and jumped. Nosramus gasped softly, then sighed, as you brushed your lips against their leaking tip. As you enveloped their head with your lips, you gently pressed your fingers into their warm entrance. 

“A-Ahh…~” 

Your fingers were sucked up to the hilt inside of them. The alchemist’s walls were soft and smooth, tight but willing to flow with the movement of your fingers. It proved to be a little difficult to sync both your mouth and your hand at once but Nosramus didn’t mind. They ran their hands over your arms and shoulders, cradling the back of your head as they tilted their own back with a moan rising to the back of their throat. 

“Oh… Y-Yes…”  

Like you, it didn’t take them long to reach their peak, but it satisfied you deeply to feel their walls clench around your digits and their length to throb and swell in your mouth. The taste of their semen wasn’t as bitter as you expected, nor was it as thick or sticky as anticipated. You swallowed it easily and dragged your lips down their length, sticking your tongue out and lapping at the thin skin that connected their still stiff cock to their wet cunt. 

Nosramus released a noise that went straight to your core. Something akin to a mewl that turned into a wail as they cummed again. They didn’t finish before you were pulled up by your hair and into a toothy kiss. 

You followed Nosramus as they pulled you into their lap. You didn’t hesitate to raise your hips, fumbling as you clumsily lined their cock up to your entrance. Fuck, you needed this…! The blue potion had relaxed your insides completely, allowing you to take the alchemist to the hilt in one smooth and complete motion. 

Ohhh shit-! You’ve never taken a cock like this before…! The skin of their cock was smooth and soft, gliding inside of you with ease. You would have thought yourself a slut in any other circumstance, but this time you were fucking relieved to feel only pleasure and the closeness of another warm body that held you securely in their lap as they rocked you rhythmically. 

You could actually forget about all the terrible things that you saw, even if it was just for a fleeting moment. Maybe you would end up dying in this shitty place, but for now you only had to focus on holding on tight to the alchemist that took pity on you and decided to share one last moment of comfort with you before you faced the dark of the dungeon of Fear & Hunger for the last time. 

Ending H- Just a Little Comfort

@prettycutebunny, @infinitewhore, @kennbb, @slutwithadegree, @dead-bxxxtch-walking, @space-arsonist, @pink-soft-shadow, @sinlessdesire, @hoemine

[meatyarms]

˗ˏˋᴊᴏᴛᴛɪɴɢ´ˎ˗

ּ Sevika's obsession with your cheeks ּ 1,247

ּ Her babygirl with two flappy cheeks that would bounce with her every step? Oohh, the things she’d do for them. 

ּ She’d stop killing for them. She’d drop her rightful gold on the playing table and leave. She’d give the knuckleheads their teeth back. 

ּ Talk about having a bad craving. If you didn’t stop her every time, you wouldn’t have half of your face on you. 

ּ She would’ve taken a full bite right through your cheeks from the moment you saw each other— your clumsy ass bumped into her, smearing all the gravy on your face over her shawl with a mouth full of fish. You’re still trying to forget. 

ּ Although, you strongly believe that if you didn’t have the fat on them then you’d have died right there and then, smitten with her robotic arm or something. But she stood frozen, goggling at the perfectly round stuffing of your cheeks. Girl fell in love~

ּ They’d be her good luck charms. She’ll have you closely seated in her lap all cute and comfortable, exchanging little chuckles and mean comments on the other players to each others ears in secrecy. 

ּ As the game nears the end, Sevs smile only grows, then a kiss on your sweet face tenders to seal the winning move. Could be that she’s just a grandmaster at poker or insanely nice luck, but it works always.

ּ “All cuz o’ you, baby”, “I’ll getcha somethin’ warm and delicious with the cash, hm? Watchu say, princess?”,,

ּ Who’d feed you a ton, the most food you’ve ever seen in your life has been out of her pocket. Watching you eat so well makes her full on itself, she’d slide her untouched plate to you, knowing the kind of reaction she’ll get.

ּ “Not tonight, Sevy. You must eat too”,,

ּ It never works, you’ll end up taking it anyway but still. 

ּ “Already had a bite before, eat up”, “If you won’t eat it then it’ll jus’ be wasted. That what you want, baby?”,,

ּ Such a tease, and all to see your cheeks work around the spoonfuls. Full doughy round skin spinning oh so adorably, she’d rub her fist on her chest to calm her turnt heart down, lips pursed and ears blushing to a terrible extent.

ּ You so much as look at anything edible, she’d start walking towards it with a bag-full of coins, would later on bring it back in the dozens. She knows you don’t like to waste food or the money she splurges on it, driven with guilt you end up cramming it all down. Just like she wanted.

ּ Widened eyes and gaping mouths would follow after Sev during the first few months into your relationship, it was a shock to everyone once you spoke. Even for her.

ּ She���d tilt her head, eases her face muscles, turning her voice into a tone so soft her throat is unfamiliar with it and the sweetest twinkles in her eyes. But of course, non of it she feels, all is her subconscious’s doing the moment you opened your mouth.

ּ But by then it was too late, everyone’s seen it, her melting all over you. 

ּ *coughs awkwardly*  “So uh… who was uh- so what happened next, sweetheart?”,,

ּ It used to knock her with fluster and embarrassment, and although she really tried, she just can’t help herself. How on earth is she supposed to be the ‘tough no bullshit Sevika’ with your squishy squashy cheeks nearby? 

ּ And just the overwhelming contrast between the two of you when you walk in a room together, Sevs large intimidating physique with a darling little chunky girlfriend holding onto her arm. 

ּ It certainly made less threatening her aura, even inspired more of her colleagues to be comfortable enough to approach her and try to get along.

ּ Eventually, nothing was able to hold her back from showing love to your cheeks anymore. She’d have you locked in her arms, slowly but surely sliding you into her lap whenever you sat. Your face being fiercely tugged by her mouth, just sucked until painted red, leaving you to utter slurred phrases when making an order.

ּ “Uh- tooh beer pleah”, “fank you”,,

ּ Sucking your words away, doesn’t even acknowledge the waitress, all her attention succumbed to the sweetness in her mouth. 

ּ Sitting next to Sevika would quickly be an option no more, even to the point of becoming strange. She’d recline on the seat ahead of you, sprawling her legs keeping a hand on your waist then guides you onto her thigh. Wraps her arms around you completely, lips stuck on your side kissing and eating the fat out. 

ּ Pampering you explicitly. 

ּ She’d know a problem on you when you work around her arm and choose the seat instead. Dang it. It breaks her heart to shreds to see her cute-cheeked girl moping around ignoring her.

ּ Your glumness is seriously contagious and would wash over her the whole way back home, she’d fall into a sulk having no idea what’s wrong with you. It just hurts her too much, to think that she might’ve done something wrong to your cute self.

ּ Would later follow up every sentence with an ‘I’m sorry, baby’ when y’all talk it out— doesn’t matter if it was on her or not, she’ll be sorry as shit. 

ּ Then would tuck her hands in her body heat, warming them up before touching your face, cups your cheeks and starts playing with them. Letting all of the pent up cuteness aggression go off. You’d quickly end up a finished abused mess.

ּ Half of the fucking would be blatant body worshipping, starting with your ill-fated face.

ּ “C’mere, lemme take a bite”,,

ּ You’d be full on naked, your whole body for her to love on and yet you’d find her canoodling your cheeks instead. Acting like they too finally got undressed with you.

ּ Hammers your guts out while groaning in your cheeks. Biting, sucking, spoiling them with painful attention until you can’t feel them anymore. 

ּ Her pace still fixed, she lifts herself up and looks. They’d be flared, bobbing and wobbling every time she pounds into you. Fuck. It’s too good of a sight for her.

ּ “Shit. You so fuckin’ cute, baby”, “Imma fuck you all night, princess”,,

ּ Who’d nuzzle her nose in them when she wakes up in the morning, digging deep enough for a dimple to start shaping. You’d be shaken awake to your face squeezed in hers, whispering sweet little promises before leaving for work. 

ּ “Will mish you lotsh”, “gunna love you when I get back, mm?”,,

ּ Sometimes it’s hard to tell if she’s talking to you or to your cheeks. 

ּ She pats your head just how you like it until she’s sure you’ve fallen back asleep, then leaves quietly.

ּ Who would continuously ask you to repeat your little tales over and over, just to keep your cheeks busy. Her eyes would squinch looking at you with absolute proudness as you rattle on, butterflies in her stomach at your full cheeks stretching and bending in all kinds of rounded shapes.

ּ “You just keep talkin’, baby”, “wanna hear that story again, would ya repeat it one more time for me, doll?”,,

ּ She’s mad? Just give her your side profile. Tired? Put something in your mouth and munch on it, she’ll attack. 

ּ Maybe it was her instinctive need to provide and protect or servitude being the language with which she shows love, but something pure has possessed her after you and she never stopped giving you the world since. 

,,,

ּ Made it yummy n cute cuz I fucking love chubby girls and I'd imagine Sev would too ♡

ּ Slowing down the writing uploads, need to recalibrate on some stuff. Might reinvent my blog or smth, icon won't be touched tho. Thanks for reading ♡,,

[heliads]

Heyyy I would like to make a request. So let's say there is a small pond in the glade and Minho and the reader are friends with hidden feelings and one day the reader finds out about that pond on the Deadheads so she takes Minho there and they swim in there, all playing and stuff and then somehow they confess?

aren't we all called to the small pond in the glade

masterlist

It is not easy to make do in the Glade. No one said it would be. No one said much of anything, not when you first came up in the Box. At that point, they were still grappling with the issues of what to do when left to their own devices in the middle of a massive Maze. Talking to newcomers and easing their fears was never the top priority.

You’ve been here about six months now, the fifth arrival. There are some who’ve been here before you:  Nick, Alby, Minho, Newt, and then those who came after you. No one knows how long kids will keep showing up, if you’ll ever get to a point in which things stop and everything is over. At least now, with the Glade still growing, you can entertain the hope that the outside world hasn’t given up on you. At least now, you can still harbor the illusion that someone out there is in control, even if it isn’t you.

Such hope for prolonged life or even rescue will continue being pushed off for the time being, though. If there are people out there, they refuse to do anything but send up newcomers and supplies in the Box about once a month. You were one of the first Gladers to arrive, and, if the consistent time schedules are to be believed, certainly far from the last. You assumed that meant more girls were coming. You’re starting to be proven wrong.

That’ll get to you at some point, you think, when survival stops being all you think about and you can finally let your guard down a little more. Some of the earlier arrivals have already started. They recognize the patterns in how life in the Glade works and stick to them. That way, there aren't any unfortunate surprises. That way, you can give up your fear and pretend it never haunted you in the first place.

When that day comes and you learn to relax at last, you’ll hate the Creators for making you what seems to be the only girl in this whole place. Maybe more will come, but it doesn’t seem likely, and the chances shrink with each Box that rattles up carrying yet another scared boy. If you ever get out, you think you’ll treat your makers to a thorough screaming match.

The thought makes you smile, even if it’s not the pinnacle of optimism. That involves you getting out of here, a future which also seems less likely by the month. The Runners are tearing themselves to pieces trying to find a solution to the Maze, bless their exhausted hearts, but you can tell by the strain of their faces and the weariness in their eyes that their prolonged dry spells of answers aren’t doing them any favors.

Still, life in the Glade will continue on the way it’s always been. The sun will rise in the morning, then set at night. Food will be rustled up out of ill-conceived places. Idle chatter will replace stressful murmurings, and one day you’ll look up and realize that this is your home, whether you like it or not. That truth is easier to bear on certain days rather than others.

You have plenty of time for such philosophical musings; it’s your off day, a rarity that only started coming around once first-in-command Nick decided there were enough Gladers that everyone could stop working at the typical helter skelter pace. He says it’s better for community morale. You’re not about to argue with him, so you accept your rest days with reckless abandon and do your best to abuse those blessed hours as much as possible.

Today seems to be shaping up to be as good as any. There’s one boy out there who’s off day coincides with yours; he planned it that way, always has. He’s the one you’d consider your best friend, although it’s not as if there are a ton of competitors for that title. Even still, you think you’d rather have Minho by your side as opposed to anyone else.

There’s just something about him that makes you feel better, regardless of a terrible day or unreasonably awful work shift. You could go to bed wishing you were dead, but so long as his was the first face you saw in the morning, you’d open your eyes and know you were alright within moments. Minho makes you laugh when you’re storming through your worst hours. Minho is the one you look for in a crowd, or when you’re all alone, or wherever you go, and that means far more than you’d ever care to admit.

You would never say it to his face, at least, but you can whisper it to yourself. Of course there is a reason you prefer his company over the others by a long shot, even though you met all of them at the same time on your first day. With every old friend and new arrival to the Glade, no one manages to have half the sway on your heart as him. You love Minho, how could you not? 

As if there was any world in which you did not care for him. As if there was any world in which such a thing would be possible. You are trapped in the purgatory of survival and certain death, where each day could be your last and each night could bring you closer to escape. This is not a place for sweethearts, nor chosen lovers, nor giddy fools. If you’re lucky, both of you will manage to stay alive at least a few months more, and you’ll be able to admire Minho from afar just like you always do.

So, you keep your mouth shut, and let the simple action of spending time with him be enough to settle your restless heart. It is never enough for you, how could it be; but you have to accept it. You will never bring up the matter of your heart to Minho, he will never bring it up to you, and the two of you will continue dancing around the issue until the end of time. A painful scenario, to be sure, but the only feasible one.

He’s here now, testing your patience once again. You might break at some point and let the confession flow from your throat like a blessing or a curse, but hopefully, that won’t be today. Minho shades his eyes from the scorching sun, raising a hand in greeting. Before you know it, he’s by your side, absentmindedly slinging an arm around your shoulders just like he always does.

“Y/N, I have a feeling that today is going to be an excellent day,” Minho pronounces.

You arch a brow, fighting a wild grin. “Why’s that? Are you hallucinating from heatstroke?”

Minho snorts. “No, but it’s hot enough that I’m still holding out hope for that to happen at last. I’m just happy because you’re the one coming up with the plan for our joint day off and not me for once.”

You chuckle. “I was wondering if you forgot about that.”

Minho throws his free hand in the air. “How could I possibly? Rest days are a sacred tradition, Y/N. I won’t have you breaking routine for nothing.”

You roll your eyes, unable to keep your laughter at bay. Minho isn’t wrong, the two of you have been keeping careful schedules for every one of your shared days off. They don’t come all that frequently, so each one has to be properly appreciated. Usually, that means you’ll alternate coming up with ideas of what to do with your copious free time. The last time this happened, Minho had the brilliant plan to steal fruit from the garden and eat it before falling asleep somewhere Nick couldn’t find you. It was fun, but the two hours’ penance in the Slammer was less good. At least he let the two of you relax in the same cell.

It’s your turn now, but luckily for Minho, your plots won’t involve any time spent behind bars. Always one to let your friends suffer whenever possible, you decide to torment Minho by withholding details of the day’s expeditions for a little longer.

“Oh, right, can’t believe I forgot about that. Yes, rest day. I’m aware.”

Minho’s face drops. “That can’t be right. Y/N, I know you didn’t forget. I know you wouldn’t do that to me.”

You hold your stoic expression for a few more moments, then crack at last. “Alright, I’m just messing with you. Yes, I have a plan. Now follow me.”

Minho mumbles something about how you’d better not try to trick him again before jogging after you into the shade of the Deadheads. Few people like to linger around the woods, which makes it perfect for avoiding extra work and curious eyes as much as possible.

Minho takes an uneasy glance around the further you walk into the scraggly forest. “Don’t tell me visiting the graveyard is your idea of a good time.”

“Don’t worry,” you assure him, “I’m not here for the headstones. Far from it.”

Minho looks like he wants some answers, but you’ve always favored a bit of mystery, so you keep walking until you stop once more by the edge of a clearing. Minho, the hero, the intrepid voyager, keeps going. He is used to mapping out the unknown, making sense of the blank unknown, so you let him go first. It also makes for a better view when you see his face twist with joy when he realizes what you’ve found.

“No way,” he breathes out slowly, “there’s a pond?”

You grin. “Stumbled upon it just the other day, no one else knows. Figured we could lay claim first. You know, since we’re the ones with the break day.”

Minho turns back to you, grin unable to leave his cheeks. “You’re amazing. Fantastic. Forget I ever doubted you for a second.”

“You doubted me?” You ask, feigning hurt.

Minho swats you on the shoulder before reaching down and grabbing your hand to pull you forward towards the glimmering water. “Never.”

You laugh as you plunge through the tall grass surrounding the banks. The pond itself isn’t too large, just big enough for five or so people to sit comfortably in its sparkling depths. For you and Minho, though, it’s nothing short of paradise. You never thought you’d be this happy in the Glade unless someone found a way out, but here, this pocket of joy is enough to completely change your day around.

Minho lingers on the banks, staring into the depths of the small lake. “You know this means we have to go swimming. There’s no way we couldn’t.”

You nod solemnly. “That’s why you’re going in first.”

Minho starts to frown, but before he can form his question, you’re shoving him in the side. Minho seems to hang in the air for a moment before he hits the water with a loud splash. He comes up almost immediately, shaking droplets from his dark hair. 

“You pushed me in?” He asks, absolutely shocked by your act of betrayal.

“Of course I did,” you say gleefully, “someone had to see if the water was cold, didn’t they?”

Minho’s jaw drops in outrage, and seconds later he’s grabbed your ankles, pulling you in as well. Although you know you probably rose back to the surface within moments, it feels like you spend an eternity there, looking at him through the tinted water, the weight of the liquid pulling you down and towards him all at once.

Then your head is breaking through the surface and you’re gasping for air through incredulous laughter. “You pulled me in?”

“Hey, you pushed me,” Minho defends himself, “I felt it was only fair.”

Unable to think of a fitting retort to this admittedly true accusation, you settle for the classic answer of splashing him. Minho blinks the water out of his eyes for a moment, stock still, then fixes you with his most devastating stare yet.

“I can’t believe you just did that,” he begins.

“I can,” you answer him proudly.

“Oh yeah?” Minho says, pushing through the water to stand even closer to you, “that means it’s so on.”

You raise an incredulous brow. “And what are you going to do, splash me back? There’s nothing you could do to actually make this even.”

Minho leans towards you, his breath hot on your cheek. “Actually,” he says slowly, “you have no idea what I would do.”

It is silent for a moment then, still and silent. The wind presses against your skin, cooling you until you think you could be frozen in place. Slowly, carefully, Minho brings you back to life. You don’t know exactly how long you’ve been waiting for him to kiss you, only that it has been far, far too long.

The kiss ends far too early in your opinion; Minho stays there still, forehead pressed against yours. You breathe in time with him, then listen to him as he says, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You smile in spite of yourself. “I didn’t think you would want to hear it.”

“Of course I’d want to hear it,” Minho says simply, “it’s you, I’d want to hear anything.”

“What if I said I hated you?” You ask, ever the pessimist.

Minho laughs quietly. “Impossible.”

He’s right, and both of you know it. For once, that difficult task of someone knowing your deepest secrets is not the worst burden in the world to bear. It never will be.

requested by @toomuchofafungirl, i hope you enjoy!

maze runner tag list: @rogueanschel, @ellobruv, @retvenkos, @thatfangirl42, @neewtmas, @hiya-its-amber, @gods-fools-heroes, @hope92100, @23victoria, @w1shes43, @ilovexavierthrope, @fadedver