#I can guarantee you won’t regret this

[diamondzart]

DID “DESPICABLE ME 4” TRAILER LEAVE YOU DISAPPOINTED? There’s a solution! :D

My very good friend @annchanorsomethin writes THIS AMAZING FIC on AO3 for over a year already! I am following it since November 2022 and let me tell ya, I wish this was the way Illumination treated their canon. I don’t think this amount of planning went into the real DM4, judging from the trailer…

And for those of you who were upset about the absence of Dr Nefario and Dru, this fic has you covered, believe me 😏

SUMMARY:

After Balthazar Bratt's defeat, everything seems to go better than ever: Gru and Lucy are back working for the AVL and Gru's overly enthusiastic brother, Dru is the new bad guy in town... or is he? The illusion of everything going so well fades, as the past comes back to haunt the family, threatening to destroy them once and for all... If it wasn't for the most passionate of the family doing everything in their power to protect what they love most - even if it means to step over the bounds of time and space itself.

Rated M for possible graphic depictions of violence in the future (though for now it stays in PG, I think). Features Professor Rott as the main antagonist – the original character inspired by early concept arts for Gru from late 2000s, the idea and design of Rott belong to @elitadream

This post also features original concept art made by me, styled to mimic Eric Guillon’s (official concept artist from Illumination) style, so it looks more like a real DM4 concept. I really, really hope this story will find more followers, because it totally deserves them! For now there are 11 chapters, and there will be more!

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 36: To The Sea

Summary: It's time to move on. You're not sure where you're going exactly, but anywhere is better than Texas

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 7,816 words

Warnings: ANGST, injuries, medical stuff, descriptions of pain and injuries, brief discussion about strangulation, mentions of PTSD and nightmares, so much crying, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, angst, a very little sprinkle of comfort, language, mentions of medications, still very heavy emotionally

A/N: Not actually a lot of warnings for this one. It's a lot of dialogue and inner monologues. Not a lot happens, just mostly setting the scene for the next chunk of the story. Bring tissues though, the last part of the chapter emotionally wrecked me but also might be the best thing I've ever written.

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It’s warm outside. 

Not even the shade from the building can completely shield you from the dome of heat that seems to surround the base. It seeps into the concrete and asphalt that lock it into place, trapping everyone in a bubble that may as well be an oven. It’s always hot in Texas, though. You hate it. You’ve been spoiled by the cold, rainy seasons in England. You’d gladly take that over Texas. 

You’d take anything over Texas. 

The heat prickles at your skin, your arm starting to get sweaty in the sling. It had been Dr. Keller’s idea to keep your shoulder as still as possible so you don’t continue to cause yourself pain when you move. It still hurts, but at least you won’t instinctively try to use your left arm now.

Despite the warmth, there’s still a chill deep in your bones. The warmth of the pain medicine has worn off and you’ve been left with the perpetual ice that has seemed to coat your insides. Dr. Keller says it's the stress giving you a fever. Every nightmare, every flashback sends your body temperature spiking, your heart beating right out of your chest. You’re not out of the woods yet. It can take a long time to recover from that level of distress and the omega taking over. You almost regret it, but there was no guarantee you would have lived either way at that time. You did what you had to do, and it did work out in the end. 

But at what cost? 

Dr. Keller’s phone buzzes in her pocket and she pulls it out, staring down at the screen for a moment. “Kyle wants to come by.” 

You don’t want to see him. You don’t want to see any of them. 

“I think you should see him. Even if it’s just for a moment.” She squeezes your hand. “I’ll be right here.” 

It’s a predicament. Dr. Keller supports your decision to keep them away, putting some distance between all of you for the time being. Yet, she also says being close to your pack will help your healing. Having your pack around will help your omega settle once again. She needs that safety, that security before she finally lets go completely. 

You don’t want to be close to them, but you may not have any other choice. 

You sit there in silence, picking at the fabric of your sweatpants as you wait for Kyle’s arrival. Sweat has started to bead on your back, the day only getting warmer and warmer as the sun moves higher in the sky. You want to go back inside, back into the cool air conditioned building. You want to crawl back onto the hospital bed and lay there for the next few hours. 

You can’t. 

Footsteps approach, but you don’t look up. You know who it is. You don’t want to see him. 

“Kyle.” Dr. Keller greets. 

“Christine.” He says back. It still throws you off, hearing Dr. Keller's first name. She'll always be Dr. Keller to you. Kyle turns his attention to you, still standing a few steps from the bench you're perched on. “Hi, love.” He says. The affectionate nickname almost makes you wince. You don't look up at him. You don’t want to see his face. “I wanted to stop by and see how you’re doing.” 

You don't move, don't give an answer. You don't have an answer to give anyway. You shouldn't have to give an answer. 

He lowers himself onto the bench, sitting as far away from you as he can. “It’s hot today.” He says, adjusting his hat. Always wearing a hat. Maybe that's why he and Price work so well together. 

He stares at you for a long moment but you don't bother moving, your gaze still on your sweatpants. They're starting to get a bit warm, even with your perpetual chill. 

“I’m not here to apologize.” He says, breaking the silence. “You’ve probably heard enough apologies to last you a lifetime.” He shakes his head. “Words can’t fix what we did. Nothing can fix what we did, how we left you there. All we can do is give you what you need, try and make you as comfortable as possible.” 

Tears burn your eyes as you listen to him. He's not wrong, an apology won't fix what happened. No words will ever be able to fix what they put you through. You're not sure there's anything they could do that would make up for it. An apology still would have been nice, despite the fact you know how guilty he is. Their avoidance of you, their willingness to give you such space in an unknown place just proves how guilty they all are. 

That doesn't make things hurt any less. 

You slowly turn away from Kyle, angling yourself towards Dr. Keller. 

He doesn't say anything further in that regard, taking your movement as an answer to his non-apology. He leans forward instead, resting his elbows on his knees. “I just wanted to let you know that we’re getting ready to leave soon. We’ll be heading somewhere safe, somewhere quiet and secluded. I think you’ll like it.” 

Dr. Keller had informed you of that earlier after she went to speak to them. They've decided what to do, what's best for the pack again. You might have protested, except for the fact it meant you were getting to leave Texas. Where exactly they're taking you, you're not sure. You just know it's not Texas. 

“I want you to know that we’re here if you need us.” He stares at you for a moment longer before pushing himself up to stand. 

If, not when. 

Maybe they're finally getting the message. 

Dr. Keller stands, touching your right shoulder gently before she steps away with Kyle, speaking quietly with him, but you can still hear every word in the nearly silent space around you. 

“In an attempt to remain a neutral, professional party in this situation, I feel it would be appropriate for me to tell you not to beat yourself up too much about this.” Dr. Keller says. “The unprofessional side of me has many words I’d like to say to all of you.” She clears her throat. “That being said, on a positive note I can say you’re all doing the right thing for once, prioritizing your omega and fulfilling her needs, even if her needs require you to leave her alone for now. I know it’s hard, I know every instinct is screaming at you to help her, but just take comfort in knowing you are helping her. You’re doing the best thing you can do for her at this time.” Dr. Keller puts a hand on his arm, squeezing it gently. “Even if it is tearing you up inside.” 

“Thanks, Doc.” He says. 

“I’ll see you soon.” She says, patting his arm before she heads back towards your bench. 

You turn your head just slightly, not missing the way Gaz lingers for a brief moment before he turns his back on you, walking back down the sidewalk. 

It hurts. 

You want to cry with every swallow. No matter how much you chew, it doesn’t ease the pain of trying to swallow solid food. Even the worst sore throat you’ve ever had pales in comparison to this pain. Tears burn in your eyes as you eat, unable to refuse this time in favor of choking down some liquid nutrients. Even liquids make your throat ache, but they are easy to chug to get it over with at once. 

This feels like torture. 

Dr. Keller looks guilty as she spoon-feeds you the soup. Chicken noodle, something simple and easy but still something with some substance. It makes you think back to when you were sick as a child, your mother dutifully feeding you homemade chicken noodle soup until you reached the age you could feed yourself. 

You do feel like a child again, unable to even hold the spoon. Well, you could hold it, but it would have come at the expense of some burns from how badly your hand was shaking. 

So instead you sit here, being spoon-fed soup you can barely stand eating. 

“I know.” She says as a tear finally falls, your inhale shaky from the ache in your throat. “You need something in your system for the sedative. It’s a long flight and you’ll be sick when you wake up if you don’t have anything in your stomach. That’s going to hurt a lot worse than eating now.” 

Yeah. You’ve already figured that out. 

“Strangulation is a tough thing to survive.” She says, dragging the bottom of the spoon against the edge of the bowl to wipe off any soup that might drip on you. “Then again, so is getting shot, and distressing to the point of your omega taking over.” She holds the spoon up to your lips, and you’re tempted to refuse. “You’ve survived a lot, more than most could. And to look this good after...” 

You blink up at her, teary eyed and sickly looking, exhausted and bruised. Your left eye is still almost swollen shut, and your hair is tangled perhaps beyond saving, tied up in a bun at the top of your head. All just reminders of what you survived, all reminders of what happened to you. Of what was allowed to happen to you. 

You’re not quite sure when the last time you had a real shower was either. 

“I know.” She says, spooning more soup into your mouth. “You might not feel like it, right now.” 

“I want a shower.” You say, your voice still hoarse and cracking through your throat. A real shower might solve a lot of problems for you right now. It won’t fix much, but being truly clean would make a lot of things feel better. 

“I wholeheartedly agree.” Dr. Keller says. 

You give her a look. You don't smell that bad. She should know, she’s the one that cleaned the blood off of you and the one who gave you the sponge bath this morning. 

She gives you a look back. “I meant it would be nice to take a real shower. Once we get where we’re going, we can work on the logistics of a shower.” 

Right. You can’t exactly stand for a long time on your own, not to mention the problem of only being able to use one arm without bringing blinding pain upon yourself. That’s where the pack would come in handy. 

The thought of one of them seeing you vulnerable like that, putting their hands on you right now makes your skin crawl. 

A shiver runs down your spine, your body shuddering uncontrollably. You grunt as your shoulder screams in pain, another electric jolt burning straight through your nerves and down through your feet. Fuck. You mouth the word, squeezing your eyes shut. It makes your stomach churn, the soup starting to burn a path back up through your esophagus.

“Breathe for me.” Dr. Keller says, putting a gentle hand on your right shoulder. 

In and out. You focus on your breath, the only thing you can do without feeling like you’re going to go insane from the pain. It’s all you can do in this situation. It’s the only thing you can do at all. Breathe. Just keep breathing. 

Sometimes you don’t want to. 

The pain passes as it always does, leaving behind a subtle ache that will linger until the next flare of pain. It’s a constant, never-ending cycle that you can’t escape from. Weeks, Dr. Keller had said. It can take weeks to heal. You’ll be stuck in this cycle for weeks and weeks. What if it never heals? That is a possibility. It’s always a risk with any injury. 

What if the rest of your life is like this? 

You’re crying again, hot tears blazing a path down your cheeks. They won’t stop, they never stop. There’s a constant stream down your face, even in your sleep. You’ve woken to find your face and neck damp from the never ceasing flood of tears. 

How you can’t wait for the time to come when you have none left.

You’d welcome the numbness at this point, greet it like an old friend and invite it in for tea. Anything over the pain and tears that won’t stop. The depression-fueled numbness that had filled you when Price and Gaz left, then Soap and Ghost would be a welcome relief at this point. Anything would be better than the pain. 

You almost wish you were in a coma right now. Then you wouldn’t feel anything at all. 

Dr. Keller puts the spoon back into the soup bowl before rolling the table to the side. She puts a hand on your head, gently stroking your hair as you cry. The room is silent aside from your sniffles, Dr. Keller not having to say a single word. The silence is almost a blessing. You’re tired of hearing words, of hearing people speak. There’s nothing anyone can say that will do anything to help you, to comfort you, to make it better. 

There’s nothing anyone can do to make it better. 

You’re so tired of being like this. 

The sedative is kicking in before you even reach the airfield. She can see the way your head is drooping further and further forward in the car, your body jostling without any complaint. It had started kicking in before you even got into the car, as you offered very little resistance when Kyle helped her mauver you into the front seat. She chose Kyle out of everyone to help her in hopes it would be easiest on you. Your claimed alpha’s beta is a good place to start in rebuilding the bonds within the pack, and his calm demeanor certainly helps. He is a caretaker through and through, that beta trait prominent above the others in him. He would have made a good medic, had he gone that route. 

Your chin drops to your chest as the car comes to a stop in front of the plane, your body slumping to the side against the door. 

“She’s out.” Christine says, unbuckling her seatbelt. 

“Makes this easier.” Kyle says, getting out of the car. 

They maneuver you into the wheelchair, Christine easing your head onto your right shoulder to avoid aggravating the left. The less pain you’re in when you come out of it, the better, though pain will be unavoidable. Kyle pushes the wheelchair up the ramp of the plane, Christine following close behind. She’s glad she gave you the sedative before you left the med center to avoid as much pain as possible. She almost wishes she had given it to you earlier, as getting you into a sweatshirt had been a battle of its own. Though, the longer it stays in your system, the longer you’ll sleep through the flight. The longer you sleep through the flight, the longer they can delay the inevitable emotional storm of being enclosed in a tight space with your pack. 

If you’re lucky, you’ll be out of it long enough for them to reach the cottage without incident. 

John is waiting near the front of the aircraft, his eyes watching carefully as Kyle helps maneuver you into a seat. Even with the turmoil in the pack bonds, an alpha will always feel protective over their omega. There’s some things that can’t be undone, even in such a fragile state. Some instincts can’t be unlearned, no matter what. 

“I gave her a sedative.” Christine explains as she gets you as comfortable as possible in the seat. “It won’t last the whole flight, but it’ll take a while to wear off regardless.” 

“Is that more for her or for us?” John asks. 

“Both.” Christine says. “Mostly for her. It helps with the pain of moving around, but it will also keep her calm in close quarters like this.” 

“Here.” John says, handing her something. It’s a blanket, brand new by the feel of it. “Johnny made a store run this morning. It’s going to get cold in here, so he got the warmest one he could find.” 

Christine takes the blanket, the fabric thick and soft in her hands. It’s a touching gesture, speaking volumes of their desire to still care for you despite everything, their willingness to do what they have to, to keep the pack together. “Perfect.” She says, carefully draping it over you and tucking it around you before John gets you secured in the seat. 

“It’s going to be a long flight.” John says, taking a step back. 

“It is.” Christine says, pulling out her thermometer. She takes your temperature, letting out a hum at the number that pops up on screen. “I need to monitor her temperature.” She explains as John gives her a look. “It’s been spiking when she gets stressed.” 

“She's not quite out of it yet, is she?” John asks.

“Not quite.” She says, putting the thermometer back in her bag. “I’ve only seen two omegas successfully come back from that point, and I know the number across the board isn’t very high. It takes a long time for the body and the brain to get back to normal.” 

“And on top of everything that happened...” 

She stares up at him for a long moment. “She’s very strong. I knew she was a fighter, but to come out the other side even where she is now...” Christine shakes her head. “I didn’t want to say this at the time, but I was expecting the worst. When that call came in about what state she was in...” She bites her lip, holding the emotions back. “Her resilience and fortitude is what kept her alive. That and Simon’s courage to do what needed to be done.” 

“I know.” John says, looking past her. “We all owe a lot to him.” 

Christine puts a gentle hand on his arm. “You’re doing what’s best for her. No matter how much it hurts, no matter how much it goes against every instinct you have, it’s what she needs.” 

“That’s all that matters to us right now.” John says, staring down at her hand for a moment. “There’s nothing else we can do, so it’s time we start putting our priorities where they should have been the whole time.” 

Christine gives him a small smile. “I’m proud of you for that. It takes a lot to unlearn the things you’ve been told since the beginning.” 

The corner of John’s lips twitch before his face falls into the emotionless mask he’s been wearing for the last few days. “It’s about time we get our heads out of our arses.” 

“I can’t blame you totally.” She shrugs. “We were all just doing what the initiative was telling us to do. We couldn’t have known. There wasn’t any room to question it.” 

“I wish we would have figured it out sooner.” He sighs. 

“Things might have been worse if the truth did come out sooner. If you started digging into the initiative too soon, Shepherd might have gotten antsy and taken more drastic measures to stop the truth from coming out entirely.” She glances down at you. “I think this was all inevitable.” She turns her gaze back to John. “What happened, happened. None of us can change that. All we can do is keep moving forward with what we have right now.” 

He stares at her for a long moment. “The more time passes, the more I’ve come to realize why Kate chose you for this position.” 

The corner of her lips turns up in a smile. “Well, I am rather good at my job, which, among other things, involves advocating on behalf of omegas.” 

John huffs. “Wish we would have listened sooner.” 

“You can’t change the past.” She repeats, looking down at you again. “But you can change the future.” 

You woke from your sedation about four hours from Helston. 

Well, ’woke’ might have been too strong of a word for it. Your eyes opened, but you were still hazy, movements sluggish and entirely unaware of the world around you. You floated between sleep and awareness for an hour before finally gaining consciousness completely. Awareness took quite a while to return, though. Not until they were moving you to the car from the plane. 

Even still you’re groggy, slumped against the door in the back seat of the car. You blink slowly, eyes unfocused as you stare out the window at the blur of green passing by. 

“How is she?” John asks from the driver's seat, glancing up at the rearview mirror. 

“Cow.” You say, blinking slowly as the car passes a field of cows. 

“Still out of it.” Christine answers from the back seat where she's sitting next to you. Your response might have been enough to answer that. “Better than being in pain, though.” 

“How long will it take for her to get out of it?” Kyle asks. 

“Hopefully she’ll be more lucid by the time we get there, but it could take a few hours for it to completely wear off.” Christine says, wiping a bit of drool from your chin. “Probably not a bad thing. This is a big change, and with everything that’s happened, it’s going to take some time to settle in.” 

“Things are going to be rough.” Kyle says. 

“Yes.” She agrees. “Being enclosed in a small space with the people you want to see the least in the world isn’t an ideal situation. It’ll be an adjustment for everyone. I trust all of your abilities to adapt, though. Just don't go in expecting things to be the way they were.”

John's hands tighten around the steering wheel, his knuckles going white. Kyle cracks his window open, prepared for the thickening of John's scent in the air. Christine knows she hit a nerve, but it needed to be said. Even if you were open to forgiveness right now, even if they had chosen to go after you right away, things still wouldn't be the same. Things won't ever be the same. It is their fault deep at the root of it. Those cameras were put up because of them, you were taken because of them. You were chosen for the “initiative” because of them, because Kate thought you'd fit in well with them. Their decisions shaped your life, and will continue to shape your life. 

Can you ever come to forgive them? Christine likes to think so. She has the hope that they can put in the work and regain your trust and earn eventual forgiveness. She knows you'll allow them to try once the initial hurt and emotions begin to fade, once the two of you put in enough work to start processing the trauma around the events that happened. It will take time. Probably a long time. 

She'll be there every step of the way. 

“Ashley did some shopping for us, picked up some stuff to get us until we can get into town.” Kyle says, looking at his phone. 

“Good.” John says, his shoulders starting to relax. “Should wait a couple days before going. Get settled in.”

“She's still working on cleaning up. Probably still be there when we get there.” Kyle says, putting his phone back in his pocket. 

“That's fine. We’ll probably have to utilize her a bit.” 

“Doubt she'll complain.” Kyle says, looking out the window. “Be thrilled to have something to do besides work.” 

You let out a quiet groan, shifting against the door. “Hurts.” 

“I know, honey.” Christine says, carefully adjusting your left arm. “I’ll give you more pain meds once we get to the cottage.” 

“We’ll be there in half an hour.” John says, glancing up at the rearview mirror again before turning his eyes back to the road. 

The half hour seems to take the longest as you continue to become more and more lucid and aware. The pain sets in first, your brain picking up on those signals before anything else. John’s knuckles are white around the steering wheel as you begin to whine and whimper around every bend in the road and turn he has to make, every jostle of the car. Every instinct in his body tells him to pull over and comfort you, but he can’t. It’s more important to get to the cottage, and there’s no guarantee you’d even let him. It might make things worse. 

The last thing you need right now is for things to get worse. 

Christine breathes a sigh of relief as they pull up to the cottage, glad she can finally get you somewhere more comfortable. You’ve been in far too many uncomfortable positions today, moved around too much. She would have liked to keep you in Texas a couple more days, but she knew as soon as you were able to travel, the better. The sooner they could get off the grid, the better. 

The sooner they could get out of Texas, the better. 

Kyle is getting the wheelchair out of the trunk when Johnny and Simon pull up, not having been far behind. They likely took a turn around the back roads to ensure no one was following and to keep things from looking too suspicious. 

Christine keeps you from slumping out of the car as she carefully opens the door on your side. You’re more awake than you were, blinking up at her with almost startlingly aware eyes.

“Crutch.” You pout when she pulls the wheelchair closer. 

She gives you a look. “Honey I'm not sure you could even stand right now.” You may be more aware, but that doesn’t mean your body is working as it should.

You let out a defiant noise as you attempt to get your legs out of the car, trying to hide your grunts of pain and discomfort. 

She's tempted to stand there and let you try, but she knows all hell will break loose if she lets you fall. She's not willing to take that risk, not to mention it will cause you more pain to get you up off the ground. 

“Come on,” She says, stopping you before you can get your feet under you. “Nice and slow.” 

You let out a quiet growl of indignation but you allow her to help you, your legs trembling as she eases you up. Kyle is there with the wheelchair, getting it as close to you as possible so she can sit you down quickly. 

“Ow.” You breathe, eyes pinched closed as you breathe through the pain. 

“I know.” She says, patting your good shoulder lightly. She's glad she put you in the sweatshirt before you left Texas. It's chilly outside, chillier than it was further inland a few days ago. 

It's hard to believe it's only been a few days since you were taken. Barely even a week. So much happened in such a short period of time. It feels like it’s been weeks since everything started, but then again, it had been weeks since John and Kyle first left. It had been weeks since you had been around your whole pack together by the time you were taken. The deep depression you sunk into before the events of the last week had been draining you slowly for weeks before this. It had started before John and Kyle were deployed, back to that day when you revealed the cameras and the secret you had been hiding from them. 

How long you’ve gone in such turmoil. 

How far you still have to go. 

The path up to the door is rocky and uneven, the wheelchair jostling as she pushes it up towards the door. She can picture your face, the way it has to be screwed up in pain. You're silent though, holding it all in. She almost wishes you weren't being silent about it. 

The door is already open, light shining from inside as she approaches. Kyle is in the house already, having gone ahead to greet his sister. John is right behind the two of you as Christine turns to wheel you up the steps into the house. His eyes are on you, focused and ready should you fall.  

Christine would never let you fall, and from the way your hand is gripping the arm of the chair for dear life, you probably couldn't anyway. 

She wheels you through the entryway, the inside warmer thanks to a fire that's burning. It's a nice cottage, far nicer than she had been expecting judging from the outside. 

Johnny lets out a low whistle as he enters behind John, looking around. “Yer parents own this?” 

“It was given to our mum by our grandparents. They did some...renovations before they passed it on.” Kyle says. 

“Yer tellin’ me.” Johnny says. 

It looks new inside. New wood floors, freshly painted walls. The furniture looks like she would expect to find in an English seaside cottage, though. Kyle’s parents went to France for summer vacation instead of utilizing the cottage, and none of his siblings had wanted to use it, he told them. It looks almost perfect, like it came right out of a home renovation show. Kyle’s sister must have worked some sort of magic to get it this clean. 

It is a very nice cottage. It’s small, the door opening right to the main area. There’s two couches and a chair in the middle of the room around a coffee table. To the left of the couches is a fireplace, the fire already lit and crackling. It looks original, likely having been untouched in the renovations. There’s a door to the left of the fireplace closer to the main entryway. A bedroom maybe? To the right of the front door are two doors, one on the far wall and one facing the front door. 

The stairs are in the middle of the house, leading up to the second floor where there’s likely more bedrooms. On the far side of the main area is the dining area and beyond that is a sliding glass door. Around the corner on the far side of the stairs is likely the kitchen. She can see the fridge from where she’s standing. It’s new. Very new. Makes her wonder just how long ago it had been renovated. 

“Everyone, this is my sister Ashley.” Kyle says, introducing the other woman in the room. 

“Hello,” she says, giving everyone a wave and a dazzling smile. 

She’s dressed simply in jeans and a t-shirt, her medium box braids pulled up into a bun on top of her head. They look a lot alike, her and Kyle. Tall and slender and stunning. They have the same smile and the same soft brown eyes. She's wearing scent blockers, but Christine can imagine her having a soft scent like lavender or something fresh like mint. 

“There's two rooms down here, and two upstairs.” Kyle says. “The main bedroom is through there.” He points towards a door to their left. “I figure we'll give that to our omega. The bathroom in there has a walk-in shower.” 

“Perfect.” Christine says. That will make getting you in and out of the shower easier at least, and you won’t have to go far to use the bathroom.

“You should take the other room down here.” John says, looking at Christine. “So you can be close in case of an emergency.”

And so you don't have to be too close to them, so you won’t feel like they’re hovering.

He doesn't have to say that part out loud. 

“I put new sheets on all the beds.” Ashley says. “I also picked up everything Kyle sent on the list. Food, some clothes, some other necessities.”

You let out a quiet groan, Christine patting your head gently. You have to be exhausted and sore after the day. She should give you another dose of pain medicine like she said she would. You’re going to need it tonight. 

“Let's get you laying down for a bit.” She says, wheeling you towards the door. 

Kyle opens it for her, revealing a spacious room with a big window looking out towards the sea. You're going to spend a lot of time in front of that window, she thinks. The bed is in the middle of the room, and there’s two chairs facing the window. She’s almost tempted to sit you in one of the chairs, but laying down will be more comfortable for you right now. 

You're still too out of it now to care much as she wheels you to the double bed. With Kyle's help they get you horizontal, Christine draping the blanket at the end of the bed over you. It’s not very soft, but it will do for now. She’ll have to get the guys to pick up some soft blankets for you when they go to town. She has a whole list of things starting in her head she needs them to pick up.

She leans your crutch against the end of the bed just in case you might need it for an emergency. She hopes you’ll yell first, but you always have been stubborn. Being mostly bed-bound has only made that worse. 

“I’m going to go look through the things Ashley picked up.” She says, patting your leg gently. “Get some rest.” 

Christine leaves the door open a crack as she exits, wanting to give you a little privacy as you nap, or at least she hopes you’ll nap. It’s going to be a rough adjustment, and you’re going to need as much rest as you can get. 

“I’m assuming you’re Christine.” Ashley says, walking up to her. 

“I am.” She says, giving Ashley a smile. 

She can’t help but get lost in Ashley’s soft gaze for a moment. The Garrick siblings seem to share the same magnetic energy. There’s something almost ethereal about them. She could easily imagine them with glowing halos and angel wings. It’s almost like she’s being blessed with the opportunity to look upon her. She could spend an hour staring at Ashley’s face and not grow tired of looking at her.

“I picked up the items Kyle said you needed.” She says, motioning to the bags on the coffee table, pulling Christine out of her daze. “I couldn’t find the exact nutrient powder you asked for, so I got one that was as close as I could find.” 

Christine glances through the bags. She was thorough, getting at least two of everything. 

“I got warmer clothes for her too, since it can get chilly out here this time of year. Just some simple things for now until you guys get into town.” Ashley says. “I did some research too and I read that omegas like comforting things so I picked up some extra blankets and pillows” Ashley says, motioning to a couple bags sitting on the couch. “I also picked up this,” She pulls a stuffed dog from one of the bags, holding it up. “It was the softest one I could find. I thought it might help.” 

A small smile forms on Christine’s face, her heart fluttering in her chest from the sweet, thoughtful gesture. Ashley doesn’t even know you, nor did she know exactly what happened to you, and yet she went so far as to pick up some comfort items for you. You have nothing right now, only the borrowed clothes on your back. All of your belongings are still on base, all of the things that you had built to make your perfect nest. Would you want any of them still? Or have they been tainted by the events of the last few weeks? 

That Ashley thought to do this has warmth flooding Christine’s body. You can have some comfort now without having to wait for their trip to town. She almost feels the urge to cry. She wants to hug Ashley, thank her over and over for her kindness. Ashley has no idea how much her small act of kindness means, how much it's going to mean. 

A smile forms on Christine’s face as she stares at the stuffed dog. “It’s perfect.” 

You can hear it. 

In the distance, the quiet roar reaches your ears as you’re dragged from the sweet arms of sleep. It must be a dream, or perhaps the sedative is still clinging to your mind, making you imagine things. 

No. 

You’d know that sound anywhere. 

The effort to push yourself up to sit is a momentous one, every cell in your body protesting after a day of being moved and jostled. The last thing you want is to move right now, but you have to. 

The pain meds have done little to help.

The crutch at the end of your bed must be a thousand miles away as you sit there and stare at it. The ache in your body only increases as you become more and more aware of the pain, almost as if it can tell what it is your mind is planning. 

The door is cracked open, letting in a slit of light from outside. It’s dark in the room, the curtains pulled over the window. It’s a blessing compared to the bright yellow light outside the door. You welcome the darkness as your head begins to throb. You could call for assistance. You’d get more help than you needed. More help than you want. 

No. 

You need to do this. 

The effort it takes to get standing nearly sends you back onto the bed. The pain nearly blinds you as your feet touch the floor, your body leaning against the side of the mattress out of desperation. If you fall, you’ll never be alone again. You can’t afford that. You don’t want that. 

If you fall, you’ll never get up again. 

The breaths out of your nose are short and sharp as you reach for the crutch, fingers trembling in the effort to fight the pain threatening to blind you. You’re trembling like a leaf in a storm as your fingers finally wrap around the cool metal. The rubber bottom drags across the floor as you tug it over to you, holding it against your chest for a moment. 

Breathe. That’s what you need to do. Breathe. 

In and out. 

Nice and slow. 

The pain is only a memory. The pain is nothing. The memories forming at the edges of your mind will take over and wipe out the pain and the misery. You just have to be sure. You just have to be certain.

You push yourself upright using the crutch, tucking it under your arm. You should go back to bed. You should rest. 

No. 

You need to know. 

You need to be certain.

The first step you take nearly makes you sick. 

It’s like watching a baby deer walk for the first time, knees wobbling, feet shaking. You lean heavily on the crutch, your determination the only thing keeping you from tumbling to the floor in a heap. That might almost hurt worse than forcing yourself to stand upright. 

If you fall, you’ll never get up again. 

Inch by inch you move across the floor, silently grateful for the socks on your feet. They allow you to slide across the hardwood, but they also pose a threat. Slide too far and you’ll lose your feet. 

If you fall, you’ll never get up again. 

The determination and your desire for certainty is what keeps you sliding inch by inch across the floor towards that strip of blinding light in front of you. It’s hovering before you, threatening you. How do you know there’s not one of them standing guard, waiting for you to try and leave? You can’t know. You don’t have a clue what’s waiting on the other side of that door. It could be nothing. It could be your entire pack. 

Breathe. 

In and out. 

You take a moment at the door, resting your aching feet. Your body is throbbing from the effort to keep yourself upright, the sedative still numbing your brain and your movements. It’s like treading through honey, everything twice as hard as it should be. You can walk. You’ve done it before. You did it in the medical center. 

You can do it here. 

You use the crutch to push the door open more, your free arm still tucked in a sling to keep you from moving it. Reaching for it with that arm would have put you on the floor, would have caused more pain than you needed, would have made you fall. 

If you fall, you’ll never get up again. 

Breathe. 

The light burns. Explosions of yellows and whites erupt behind your eyelids as you screw them tight against the sudden onslaught. The sun is in the room, shining its rays directly into your sensitive eyes. Your stomach churns, your fingers tightening around the crutch so tight your knuckles begin to ache. The oppressive light makes you want to recede back into the darkness of the room behind you like a vampire shying away from the light of day. 

No. 

You won’t be defeated by the harsh artificial lighting. You need to know. 

You need to be certain.

The others are moving around. You can hear voices around the corner, voices upstairs with thudding footsteps. The air is thick with a mesh of scents, cleaning chemicals, and the burn of scent blocker. Your nose wrinkles at the sudden onslaught against your senses, your sedated brain making it all seem so much worse. 

You need to know. 

The hardwood floors continue and you use them to your advantage as you shuffle your way across the main area. The fire crackles as you pass, the popping of a log making you startle. Your feet slide again, your body pushing up against the crutch to hold yourself steady. 

If you fall, you’ll never get up again. 

Your target is dead ahead, a mile away but so close you can almost taste it. Just past the dining table and straight on till morning. 

Despite your snail’s pace, no one seems to notice you shuffling your way across the house. It should make you upset, the fact that none of them notice you moving around, but instead it makes you glad. They’d try to stop you if they noticed you, turn you around and shuffle you back to bed. Or worse, they’d carry you. 

How easily you could slip away, though. 

Well...in theory. 

Perhaps that’s why they ‘re not paying you any mind. How far could you really go in your current state? 

Why would you want to stray from the only safe space you have? 

The world outside is more dangerous with the state you’re in. Not just because of your injuries and your status, but also because you know Shepherd is still out there, and for all you know Graves is as well. 

He could be waiting right outside the door. 

No. 

They’d know. 

They’d protect you. 

They failed. 

You push past the fear in favor of certainty as you push forward, passing the dining table in your slow crawl towards the sliding glass door. 

It poses an entirely new threat as you stand before it, staring out the darkened glass. You have to get it open. Getting it open takes strength and you’re down to one hand that’s trying to keep you upright. 

You have to know. 

You have to be certain. 

You lean your weight on the crutch, ignoring the way it digs into your armpit as you reach for the handle. You click the lock, wrapping your fingers around the plastic before pulling. Your body screams with pain as you tug, the door sliding in the track as slowly as you had moved across the small living area. It’s almost as if it's mocking you. 

It’s open only as wide as you need to crutch your way through, doing your best not to knock your left shoulder against the frame. 

If you fall, you’ll never get up again. 

Breathe. 

You can smell it. 

The salty sea air invades your senses, slipping up through your nose and straight into your brain. Memories come flooding back of childhood vacations back when things were simpler. Back when nothing mattered but the sand and the water and avoiding getting chased by your brothers carrying the piece of seaweed they found. 

Polkadot bathing suits, bright red to be seen easily. Toes in the water, sand everywhere. The nap in the silent car home. 

How simple life was back then. How easy life was. 

Your heart aches for those days again. The days when you could exist without a care in the world, trusting your pack would keep you safe, trusting your family would care for you. Your mind yearns for that sense of safety and security again. 

The world is grey as you hobble across the porch, the grey seeming to go on forever. You missed it, the chill in the air, the gloomy grey overhead. How you yearned for the gloom of England while stuck in the heat of Texas. 

Anything is better than Texas. 

Your forward shuffle pauses at the edge of the deck, your eyes looking out into the grey. Your breath catches in your throat as you stare out into the distance, the ache in your chest intensifying. It blocks out the pain in your body, numbing you to everything else as you stand there, legs trembling from the effort of going the short distance from your room to the end of the porch. 

You can see it. 

Emotions swirl inside of you like a hurricane as you stare out where the grey water meets the grey sky in the line of the horizon. Those emotions threaten to choke you as you stand there trembling at the edge of the porch. There’s a breeze, a cold one that bites through the fabric of your sweatshirt and into the skin below, but you don’t care. 

You can’t care. 

Your legs shake from the exertion, the neverending exhaustion that’s settled deep into your bones. It’s not just a physical exhaustion, but a mental one as well. It’s been a long week. 

Only a week. 

So much has happened in a week. 

You want to sit. You want to sink down onto the porch and rest. 

If you fall, you’ll never get up again. 

There’s a pain in your chest as your breath catches in your throat. The emotions are whirling, tightening around your chest, squeezing your lungs until they feel like they might pop. 

Breathe. 

In and out. 

You needed certainty. You needed to know. 

You can hear it. You can smell it. You can see it. 

A single tear rolls down your cheek as you stare out at the sea. 

NEXT ->

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[verstappen-cult]

Max is upset when you can't be at his side when the race weekend starts. Then when you're back to his side, I guarantee you can't not leave his side at all. This boy is going to stick with you like a koala till he's satisfied

You couldn't join Max the past weekend in Australia due to your work and now you regret it so much. You could’ve just asked your boss for a few days off and she would have said yes, and you could have been by his side during the fiasco that was the Australian Grand Prix.

Max was a little upset when you told him that you would not be in Australia, but after a long conversation — that ended up with you promising to be in Suzuka — he understood. 

Max has to make a quick stop in Monaco to pick a few things before flying to Japan, so you planned to wait for him with a delicious dinner and his favorite dessert. But you didn’t even have time to go to the grocery store because Max decided to arrive earlier, much earlier.

“What do you mean you’re outside?” You squeal, putting on your sneakers. “Outside of where?” You hold your phone between your cheek and shoulder as you grab your bag, waving goodbye to your friends.

“The pilates studio.” He simply says. 

“No, you’re in Australia.”

He laughs, “No, I’m in Monaco.”

“No becau—” You stop dead in your tracks when you step outside because he is, in fact, there, leaning against his car. “Max!”

He opens his arms and you don’t waste any time, colliding against his body. You drop everything just to wrap your arms around his shoulders.

“I missed you so much.” You whisper against his neck, and you feel his smile when he kisses your cheek. 

“I couldn’t stay there any longer,” He shrugs, grabbing your things from the floor. “I missed my lucky charm this weekend.”

Your smile fades at the memory of Sunday’s race. “I’m sorry for what happened.” Max shrugs again, dismissing the topic with a wave of his hand. “How are you feeling?”

“These things happen. I won’t lie and say that I don’t care but we can’t cry about it, the team’s working on fixing everything and we’ll be back stronger than ever.”

You kiss him because there’s nothing else you could do. Hearing him talk that way when you know the old Max would have been beating himself up means everything to you.

“What was that for?” He chuckles when you pull away, a faint blush on his cheeks. 

“What? I can’t kiss my boyfriend now?” He rolls his eyes but leans to leave a chaste kiss on your lips. “Can you drop me off at the grocery store? I need to buy a few things for dinner.”

You fall into an easy conversation as he drives through the streets of Monaco. He tells you about everything that's wrong with the car and what they’re doing to fix those issues and, in return, you tell him what you’ve been doing in his absence, and how much the cats miss him. 

Soon enough, you reached your destination. 

“Okay, I won’t be long. You can go home and—what are you doing?”

“I’ll come with you.”

“No, you’re going home to rest.” But he doesn’t listen. Max just gets out of the car, opens the door and helps you out. “Max.”

He groans, “I just,” He drops his head slightly forward. “I missed you so much, I don’t want to leave you.”

Your heart melts and you can’t say no to him, not when he’s looking like a lost puppy in front of you, so you simply take his hand, dragging him inside.

Of course you don’t miss the way his whole face lights up. 

You end up arguing in the milk aisle because Max doesn’t leave your side, not when you try to move away to grab something you need and definitely not when you bump into one of your friends who you haven’t seen in a while, so you’re unable to hug her. 

The argument ends with you pinned against the store shelves with Max whispering filthy things in your ear. You only pull away when the store manager clears his throat saying that “if you don’t stop right now, you’re gonna be banned for life.”

You think that once at home Max will want to take a rest, forgetting about you, but, to your surprise, he just takes a quick shower before joining you in the kitchen. 

You cook dinner together, with a few kisses and ear scratches to the cats. And then you eat together, talking about everything and nothing at all, enjoying each other’s company. 

Of course Max doesn’t let you shower alone, he joins you there too.

[azriels-shadowsinger]

No. 13 for Azriel please ❤️❤️🤌✨

“Everything reminds me of you, it's driving me insane”

Azriel x Reader

wc: 1.4K

a/n: kinda inspired by cardan’s letters. if yall read the cruel prince series then u know. get ready for some angst yall.

prompt list

“This is the last straw Azriel. I can’t handle not being a priority in your life! You always choose Rhys, Cassian, Elain, work, or literally anything else over me. I have only seen you once in the past week, and we live together for Cauldron’s sake! I feel like I live with a ghost. You’re gone before I wake up and you return after I fall asleep!” You yell between tears. “I can’t do this anymore. I love you, but it is too painful to keep living like this.” Azriel realizes where this is headed.

“Y/n, please. I’ll be better. I promise!” He begs, desperation in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Azriel. You had your chance, multiple actually. It’s too late.” You turn away, unable to look at his heartbroken face without potentially giving in. You can feel his shadows attempting to reach for you as you walk out the door.

———

January 7th

Dear y/n,

Rhys won’t tell me where exactly you left to, but promised he would deliver this. I understand that you are angry with me and that you need some time to calm down. I hope that you will return soon so we can work this out. I love you and I’m sorry.

Sincerely,

Azriel

———

January 29th

Dear y/n,

Point taken, dear. I know I messed up, but it’s been weeks and I miss you.

I know you are getting these letters. Rhys said he ensured they would be delivered. I guess that doesn't guarantee that you will read them. Nevertheless, I am sorry for my actions and I am taking steps to create boundaries in my life so that I can have more time for you. I can prove it, if only you would just come home.

With deepest apologies,

Azriel

———

February 14th

My love,

I had hoped you would return before Valentine's Day. You always loved celebrating this holiday. I know you won’t see them, but I still got you flowers. They're on your nightstand.

It's been over a month. I miss your voice. Please come home.

Azriel

———

March 7th

Y/n,

If this is your way of punishing me, then consider it a success. I’m a wreck without you. Please come home.

-Azriel

———

March 30th,

My heart,

I am begging you to come home. Come home and yell at me, come home and fight with me, just please come home. I love you and I’m so sorry.

Always with love,

Azriel

———

May, 15th,

Y/n,

I understand what you meant about feeling like you were living with a ghost. Everything reminds me of you, and it’s driving me insane. I am haunted by these traces of you around our home. Please end this torment and come back to me.

-Azriel

———

June 7th

I’m sorry.

I love you.

Why are you doing this to me?

I hate myself for causing this and pushing you away.

Do you still love me? Do you even miss me?

Please come home I can’t take it anymore.

I love you I love you I love you I love you

I miss you.

———

Y/n,

This is my last letter. I won’t bother you anymore after this. I hope that wherever you are, you are happy. I will always regret taking your love for granted.

Eternally yours,

Azriel

———

It was another sleepless night for Azriel. He was plagued with the memories of every single time he chose something or someone else over you. He’s past the point of beating himself up over it, but rather, he considers this the worst punishment of all. Being forced to relive each memory over and over, unable to change it. Hating himself and drowning his sorrows in whiskey.

He hears a knock at the door. It’s probably Cass or Rhys, doing their weekly check on him, since he rarely leaves the house anymore. Azriel chooses to ignore them.

They knock again.

“Fuck off, I’m not in the mood tonight guys.” He barks in the direction of the door, taking another sip of his whiskey.

Another knock.

Cauldron boil him, his brothers were relentless. He was going to open the door, but only to yell at them to leave. He grumbles angrily to himself all the way to the door.

“I said I wasn’t-“ It's not Rhys or Cassian on his doorstep. Instead, he sees you, holding a stack of letters. His letters.

This is another dream, he thinks. He must have fallen asleep on the couch. When he wakes you will be gone again, having torn the rip in his heart even wider. But until then, he lets himself indulge in the dream. Azriel doesn’t hesitate for another moment before pulling you into a tight hug.

“My dreams must be especially cruel tonight because somehow I am able to smell your perfume. I can feel your heartbeat.” He mumbles, face buried in your hair. His shadows encompass you two, whispering in Azriel’s ear y/n, y/n, y/n

“This isn’t a dream, Azriel.” You say softly, pulling away to look at him and placing a gentle hand on his cheek. It takes him a moment to realize what’s happening, but as soon as he does, he pulls you back into a hug, even tighter than before. You feel hot tears fall onto your shoulder as his shadows surge around you.

“My love, my heart, my star. You came back to me.” He sobs. Your heart breaks at the pain in his voice. You had known he was probably upset about the breakup, but in an attempt to heal and move on, you never opened his letters… until last night.

After several long minutes of intense bear hugs, he finally manages to let go. Well kind of, he can’t seem to let your hand go yet.

“We should talk, Az.” You say nervously.

“I will do anything you want if it means you will stay.”

Gods, you were the worst person in the world. This poor male, who you still love desperately despite your best efforts, is so broken over you leaving.

“I’m not going anywhere, Az.” You reassure him. He finally loses a small bit of tension in his shoulders a the words, but his hands seem to hold tighter. You take a deep breath, trying to prepare for what you have to say.

“I didn’t read your letters until last night. I was trying to get over you, and so I avoided reading them. In an attempt to move on, I had convinced myself you were happy without me. But I couldn’t move on. I couldn't stop loving you. When I finally read your letters, I realized you truly had changed. I should’ve read them months ago. I should've never left. I’m so sorry Azriel. I understand if you need time or if you can’t forgive me but-“ He cuts you off.

“I forgive you. I don’t need time. I only need you here.” He’s so quick to dismiss every mistake you made, it breaks your heart. It will take a long while to reassure him that you aren’t ever leaving again, maybe a lifetime, but that’s okay.

You take notice of his dark circles and how skinny he has gotten. Gods, has he eaten at all since you left, you wonder.

“Let me make us some dinner, then we can talk more, okay?” Azriel nods and reluctantly lets go of your hand, following you to the kitchen like a lost puppy.

———

After several long hours of tears and brutal honesty, you and Azriel lay in your bed, embracing each other.

You spent the next week holed up in the house, reconnecting and reigniting your love for each other. You even took extra time to apologize to his shadows. They were very happy that you were back and made sure to show you so.

True to his word, Azriel never took your love for granted for as long as you both lived. And true to yours, you never left again.

I think I may do this prompt again later with someone else in more of a rivals to lovers type scenario, but I kinda just felt like this was fun for this one and wanted to try it idk

prompt list

taglist: @fxckmiup

[seireiteihellbutterfly]

Second Chance Sorcerer Chapter 3 - The Trials

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Fem! reader A/N: Chapter 3 is here! I'm glad I was able to write this out. As usual, this has been adapted to y/n format. To read the OC version, check out AO3.

Oh, and I highly recommend listening to Yet by Switchfoot while reading this chapter. It just pairs well. Warnings: childhood trauma, lots of angst

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Nanami masterlist

“By facing your deepest regrets.”

Nanami feels a chill rake over his spine as the shadow being says the words.

“Regrets? There isn’t a single sorcerer in the world that doesn’t have regrets. There’s no good way to rank them.”

“Really 7:3 sorcerer? You don’t believe some regrets hurt more than others?” The Spectator watches with keen eyes as Nanami contemplates its words. There’s a pregnant pause while he considers, glancing around at Phantom Tokyo as he does so. He didn’t like how the shadow easily figured out what he’d been hiding for years. 

A sorcerer’s life was always full of regrets; regret for not being normal, regret over their fallen comrades, regret over not taking time to themselves, regret for not being able to fall in love freely.

“What good is spending time thinking about regrets anyway?” he asks finally. “There’s nothing we can do about them. We learn to accept them and move on.”

“Have you? Accepted, that is?” the shadow asks back. Nanami stares at it, feeling a jolt pass through him.

“Of course I have. Now unless time travel is something the purgatory realm offers, I don’t see the point. I can’t go back and undo the things I regret. So of course I learned to accept them.”

“Then why do you never allow yourself to think about them? If you’ve really accepted them, then thinking about them shouldn’t bring that feeling of guilt in your chest, should it?” There’s a sly tone to the shadow’s question as it asks.

Taken aback, Nanami glares at it but doesn’t answer. Anyone who had lived his life wouldn’t question the guilt that accompanied his regrets. It was an endless cycle, reminding himself that most of the things that had happened weren't things he could have necessarily controlled yet it weighed down heavily on him. And how could they not? He was there when those awful things happened. It was a natural human tendency to wonder if the outcome may have been changed if he had done something differently.

The shadow does not fail to notice the less-than-kind expression on his face. “The only reason I ask, sorcerer, is because many try and fail to escape the purgatory realm even after agreeing to face their deepest regrets. Most believe it is coming to terms with them when in fact, it’s more than that.” 

It glides slightly closer to him before continuing. “It’s not enough that you come to terms with your regrets. But it’s learning to recognize that despite everything, despite all the guilt and unhappiness, life is still worth living. Many do not make it to that stage, and if that concept fails to take root, then the realm decides your life isn’t worth saving, and it will do what it was created to do, and end your life for you. You must want to live so much that all the regrets that feel like failures become reasons to live.”

“That’s unrealistic. Shouldn’t you have to find new things to live for instead? Who would want to continue living because of their regrets?”

“And what’s the guarantee those new things won’t become regrets later? Life doesn’t necessarily go linearly, does it? Something that brought you joy one day can make you miserable the next. It’s the same with people and relationships, isn’t it? You could have the best relationship with someone, and one day, they may hurt you, or you hurt them, and that too becomes a regret. Depending on the situation, it may be superficial or deep. If that person means enough to you, you won’t end the relationship because of that single regret, do you? Sometimes people experience multiple regrets with the people in their lives. It’s the same with wanting to live. You can keep finding new reasons to live, but ultimately, it’s realizing that life is worth living even with regrets.”

Nanami ponders the words, the frown on his face deepening. So many people in his life had come and gone. Some had been his choice, others due to circumstances beyond his control. He thinks about everyone he currently knows, and the shadow chuckles at his state. “I promise I’m not speaking in riddles meant to be solved. This journey is different for everyone. For some, it’s simple. Others need a few reminders about how much opportunity life offers.”

Nanami paces up and down the aisles of the bookstore, contemplating. “And what does facing one’s regrets look like?”

“It’s different for each person that enters the Trials. Some say it’s a withered garden, and they need to tend to the most neglected flowers and once the garden is in bloom, they can go back to living. Others are the only doctor in a hospital full of sick patients and don’t get respite until everyone is nursed back to health. But I will say that not everyone makes it through. Some become consumed by what they see or begin to feel hopeless with the amount of work necessary to survive. You have an additional restriction of being at the mercy of however long the neutralized energy remains in that charm of yours. So I’d say to not waste it much longer.”

Nanami glances at the aum charm on his wrist and feels a tinge of hope bubble inside him. He tries to think optimistically. Finding reasons to live even with the regrets…he hadn’t considered it that way. 

“You also have an unexpected plus. You have someone who desperately hopes you might come back to them. Most don’t necessarily have that privilege. The additional incentive will hopefully allow you to navigate this quicker.” The shadow adds trying to gauge his reaction.

Nanami again looks doubtfully at the charm. Deep in his heart, wedged away was a little box he hadn’t dared to open or peek at since he locked it away at 16. Even the sheer idea of it felt taboo, and he hadn’t allowed himself to dwell on it. But he allowed himself a moment of guilty pleasure, wondering if y/n had received his message by now. What would be your reaction? Shock? Happiness? Would you be crying tears of joy? 

He tries to imagine your face, putting together fragments of the various expressions he had seen during your time together. The lines of dissatisfaction that tugged at the corners of your mouth when he kept saying logistically sorcerers didn’t live very long, the glitter in your eyes when Itadori-Kun brought back a pastry for you, or the melancholic way the tip of your nose turned red when you watched those sad movies when he was teaching you how to channel your energy into the cursed doll. The day you had chosen Sophie’s Choice was a hard day overall, with him coming back from a mission only to see you, Ino-Kun, and Itadori-kun squished together on the sofa, the doll on your lap, all of you with tears in your eyes. 

Would you have cried like that for him after learning about his supposed death? Or maybe it was more intense than that? The kind of ugly crying where one trembles and can’t catch their breath? Or maybe there hadn’t been any crying at all. He shakes his head. He had no evidence that he had meant anything to you at all. The aum charms had been put on Ino-Kun and Itadori-Kun as well. Yet part of him hoped you had felt some kind of grief, that he had meant something to you, even if it was just as your teacher. 

In any case, whether or not you had cried was irrelevant. As the shadow had pointed out, it was thanks to your charm that he was now alive, and that wasn’t a thing to be taken lightly.

“You called it the Trials?” he asks The Mediator, who nods. 

“I will have to send you into another space where you can deal with your regrets. It’s rumored to be inside one’s heart but so far, no one has been able to confirm that. Now remember sorcerer. Once inside, you must look at your regrets, each one, learn the lesson it provides, and accept that you can live, despite having it. This isn’t about coming to terms with your regrets. It’s about understanding that your life isn’t any lesser to live just because you have them.”

Still not entirely convinced he knew what the shadow meant, he nods shakily. 

“Take your time, but don’t dawdle. You don’t have forever. And when in doubt, remember the reason you’re alive right now.”

“Have people have been successful before?”

“Indeed. And went on to live very happy lives, in fact even fuller lives than they had before.”

Nanami feels his pulse quicken. He had more questions but it felt pointless to ask them. As the shadow had pointed out, he was wasting precious neutralized cursed energy. He can feel his earlier dream of dying, of fading away into oblivion, slipping away like water through his fingers. 

“Ready?” The shadow’s silvery eyes gleam at him, waiting. 

With resolve, Nanami nods. It felt daunting, but he knows now he has to try. That there might be things he still needed to experience in the world of the living. 

The Mediator gives him a nod of finality before raising a shadowy limb from its side, looking eerily like the Grim Reaper for a moment, black smoky fingers curling up into its palm. Nanami turned to look behind him, transfixed, as what appeared to be a rectangle of light began to materialize. It had a strange metallic look, and as it grew larger, he could have sworn he heard the faint pulsation of a heart fill the space in the bookstore. Perhaps he really was going into a dimension of his own heart. The thought filled him with wonder, something he hadn’t felt since the loss of innocence during his teen years. 

He knew from a medical standpoint that his heart would be the same as any other human being, but he couldn’t help but try to imagine what it looked like in this dimension. Was it warm? Cold? Would he get a garden or a hospital? Or something more wondrous and complex than either of those? The rectangle finally stops growing and hovers a few inches off the ground and Nanami chances a peek inside. It looked curiously smooth and paved from his position, and appeared to have light reflecting inside it, and again, he heard the undeniable sound of a heart beating, like it was trying to urge him to look inside himself.

“This is where we part, sorcerer. I hope we do not meet again.” The shadow bows to him and Nanami returns the gesture, pushing his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose as he straightened. 

“Thank you for the guidance. I feel a little less willing to die at this moment.”

“That is reassuring to hear. Your initial attitude had me worried. Now go, there isn’t any time to waste.”

Nanami looks at the bright geometric patch before squaring his shoulders and purposefully stepping forward towards the metallic, reflective light. Y/n’s face burns in his mind as the sound of a heartbeat fills his ears and he walks through the door into what lay beyond. 

Once inside, he chances a glance backward and sees the portal sealing off, the briefest glimpse of the shadow creature catching the corner of his eye before it closes into a smooth surface of reflective glass. The dimension is plunged into silence, deafening and slightly unsettling. The blond sorcerer moves forward, taking in his new surroundings, astonished by what he saw.

His Trial was a smooth, long, corridor that appeared to be made of endless panels of mirrors from top to bottom. His shoes clicked on the polished glass as he moved forward. What was he supposed to do? Unlike the Trials that had been described to him, there was nothing here that needed his care or nurturing. He appeared to be alone, with nothing but his reflection for company. He ventures a few steps forward, thinking.

“The scenarios described to me said I needed to take care of whatever I found here,” he mused out loud, continuing to walk, randomly looking up, down, and to the sides where his glass image followed suit. “But I don’t see anything here. Wait, don’t tell me…” he almost laughs aloud, Y/n’s chief complaint echoing in his head. “Is the person I have to take care of myself?” he asks the mirror dimension. 

Immediately, the panel of mirrors on his left changed. While the ceiling, floor, and right wall retained his reflection, the left began to show swirls of color and distorted shapes. Fascinated, Nanami steps closer to the one nearest to him and peers into the glass. The abstract splotches instantly form a crisp image, playing like a scene from a movie and Nanami is astonished at what it shows him. A young boy with a tuft of messy blond hair ran towards a lake in happy abandon, water wings around his thin arms as he splashed in. Nanami’s gut twists as he remembers this day. The day so long ago, when he had learned that things such as curses really did exist, that they were not imaginary misfortunes cast by witches onto unsuspecting people like his storybooks had said. 

He watched his younger self floating at the surface of the water, his family a short distance away as they set up lunch on a picnic table. One of his cousins joins him shortly, giving chase as he lets out a peal of laughter and tries to kick away from him. Knowing what was going to happen, Nanami watched his younger self helplessly as he swam towards the middle of the lake, a brave 6-year-old unaware of the darker things that lurked in places that held negative emotions.

Unbeknownst to his family at the time, a girl had drowned there that past summer, something that Nanami had unearthed years later after this incident had occurred. His younger self now reached the middle of the lake and was suddenly lost, dragged under by an invisible force. The little boy blinks in shock, then opens his mouth and lets out a muffled scream as he sees the ugly curse that had caught hold of his foot. It grins, showing off too many teeth as he struggles, its pale green skin glimmering grotesquely under the watery light before he manages to kick the curse with his foot, swimming to the surface, coughing and spluttering, desperately trying to make his way back to land. His cousin looks at him in confusion as he swims in the opposite direction. 

“Get out of the water! Get out!” The shrill screams echoed off the lake as he finally made it to the edge and hauled himself out, laying on the grass shivering. He watches in panic as his cousin stays where he is, treading water and not making any attempts to come back. His father sprints over to check on the situation looking alarmed.

“Kento, what’s going on?”

“There’s something in the water! Tell aniki to get out!” Younger Nanami practically yells, trying to put distance between himself and the lake. His cousin shrugs, then takes a breath and goes underwater. When he resurfaces, he shakes his head. 

“There’s nothing in here! Kento did you see a huge catfish or something and freak out?” he taunts, a smirk appearing on his face. The blond boy shakes his head no vigorously. 

“There’s something there! I swear!”

“You’re just making things up! If you’re too scared, then stay there, I wanna swim.”

Nanami watches his younger self shrink, drawing his knees up to his chest in terror, watching his cousin swim fearlessly in the water. However, nothing happens. Several minutes pass by before his cousin finally comes back out, hair dripping. “Fraidy cat,” he shoots at him before joining the others at the picnic table. Younger Nanami walks to the table too, determined to get his point across.

“There really was something there!” 

His mother reaches out to pat his head. “It may have been a large fish Kento. It’s ok to admit it startled you,” she says emphatically, and the younger boy’s expression drops. Adult Nanami felt it inside his chest, that feeling of knowing they didn’t believe him, and that it was the beginning of almost a decade of them convinced he was a liar, saying things for attention. Younger Nanami becomes quiet after that, sitting in defeat at the table, the fresh barbeque and corn on the cob tasteless in his mouth. 

What was he supposed to learn from this? Adult Nanami pulls away from the mirror, feeling his heart tighten, feeling sad for the little boy sitting so dejectedly at the table. He takes a deep breath, knowing this was the moment he started to not trust his family, his parents, with any of the things he saw. The curses only worsened from there, almost like because he had seen one, all of them suddenly felt comfortable revealing themselves to him. His chest felt heavy with the grief filling him. The shadow had said to take the lesson from the memory and move on.

He leans against the opposite panel of mirrors, trying to get his feelings into check. Regrets from that day…he regretted scaring his family. He regretted being able to see that curse in the water. He regretted finding out he was different from everyone else that day. And how were these regrets supposed to become reasons to live? He racks his brain. He tried to warn his cousin about the unseen danger. That shaped him into becoming the responsible one in any situation. He had to be aware of what the others couldn’t see. It made him protective. It made him want his students to have a better childhood than he did. Was that it? Him turning into a guardian for everyone around him was a reason to live?

And just like that as the thought came into his head, the mirror began to frost at the edges, becoming more and more opaque as it covered the length of the panel before the memory became fully obscured, no longer visible to his eyes. 

Nanami swallows, still slightly unsettled by what he saw. It had been one thing to experience that as a child, but watching it as an adult, seeing how the people who were supposed to be looking after him brushed away his fears like they were nothing, hurt, even now. Part of him wanted to hug his younger self, to tell him he had become someone that everyone depended on, that someone wished for him to stay alive so hard that she put a neutralizing charm on him and saved his life. 

Was this how the rest of his Trial would be? If the first memory it showed him was this one, Nanami knew it would only get worse from here. His being felt painfully raw after seeing that childhood recollection, and he was unsure if he wanted to see more of that. The events that occurred at Jujutsu High when he was a teenager were unavoidable; he had been prepared for those to crop up based on the conversation he’d had with the shadow, but to see himself defenseless, as a child, with no one on his side was already breaking down his psyche. 

As he gathered his will to push on, he recalled the shadow saying this Trial was so he could face his deepest regrets. Deepest, not every. Could he have possibly found a way to get out of here faster? Nanami knew he had regrets that ran deeper than the day at the lake. If he approached each mirror, he would know which regret it was showing him. What if he could skip over the ones that weren’t as bad and only get to the ones that had really impacted him?

Motivated by the idea, he peeks into the next mirror panel, the colors and shapes coming into focus and he sees himself at 11, seated on the sofa with his parents, his dad looking stern, his mother exasperated. Recalling this event, Nanami quickly walks away from the mirror to the next one. Dealing with his regrets should not involve also dealing with his emotional trauma. That was too much. 

He stands in front of the next mirror and waits for the memory to come into focus. However, to his dismay, the colors remain as jumbled objects colliding with each other, refusing to coalesce. Hoping this was just a coincidence, he moves to the next one and is met with the same view, abstract movements, and blurs of action, refusing to show themselves to him. 

A regret is a regret, no matter how big, perhaps. Or maybe, the mirror dimension had determined what his deepest regrets already were, and he would have to face whatever it threw at him. 

With a sigh of defeat, Nanami turns back and goes to the mirror he was hoping to avoid. His heart was racing at the thought of reliving that day, but he was left with no choice. Once directly opposite to it, he braces himself for the memory. 

“Kento, this cannot go on any further. Your mother and I…we’re at a loss about what to do.”

“I’m sorry otosan.” His 11-year-old self keeps his gaze trained downwards, observing his legs that were swinging off the edge of the sofa. “But I mean it, it was there, trying to hurt my classmate.”

“Kento.” His mother leans towards him. “I am not sure what to believe anymore. These…incidents. These…stories. They’re becoming a more frequent occurrence. The doctors are baffled.”

Nanami’s dad, a man resembling him now in terms of height and build, tsks and shakes his head. “They’ve suggested medications, talking to a therapist-”

“The therapist wasn’t helping. They never believed anything I said.” The small boy appears to shrink a few inches in between his parents, his little fingers now fidgeting with each other as he speaks his words. 

“Kento, the problem is, we’re having difficulty believing you as well.” His mother looks like she’s about to cry and it fills his younger self with guilt, that he’s making her this way over him. “The doctors believe you have schizophrenia. It would explain you seeing things that aren’t there-”

“But they are there,” little Nanami insists desperately, looking at his parents with tears in his eyes. “They’re there, but it feels like I’m the only person that can see them.” He sees the look his parents exchange and feels like his worst fear is being confirmed; that his parents thought he was going crazy.

Adult Nanami steps away from the mirror, feeling sweat on his forehead. He feels his heart hammering in his chest and he slides down the smooth glass onto the floor trying to not fall apart. It was behind him. He had put this all behind him. He had vowed to never remember any of this ever again. It was why his will stated all his possessions should be donated to charity. He didn’t have a family. Had no one checking in on him. No one to visit during the holidays, save the other staff from the school. 

Jujutsu High had been both a blessing and a curse. But Nanami hadn’t felt like he was part of a family in decades. Hadn’t allowed himself to want that simple wish because it hurt too much. The aum charm swings against his leg, a pendulum reminding him of the limited time he has left. He realizes the day spent at the amusement park had been the first time in his adult life that he had allowed himself to indulge in that little fantasy. That the little group he had trained had somehow become his family of misfits. It wasn’t until now that he realized how much he wanted that to become a reality. That he wanted to belong.

Taking deep calming breaths, he gets to his feet, not totally prepared to face the memory again but is astonished to see the mirror has already frosted up, the memory blocked and gone. Admitting he wanted a family…another lesson learned. 

Unsteadily, Nanami moves on, hoping the next memory isn’t as brutal as the first two.  

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[pickingupmymercedes]

"dont ask me that" from yours and "i dont even know if any of that was real" from my own. one where lewis overheard a conversation between reader n her brother/family after his breakup with her. in which the breakup broke and changed her so much shes become a different person who just doesnt believe shes worthy for love anymore. and it hurts her so much that she cant even believe that any of her happy moments with lewis was real, maybe it was just a game for him. angst and pleasee sfw

Asshole Lewis incoming. He does try to make things a bit better in the end though.

Also, this is only the second time I write from his perspective, and it's hard ngl.

"dont ask me that" and "i dont even know if any of that was real"

The cacophony of the paddock was a familiar background noise as Lewis weaved through the throng of team personnel and sponsors; a practiced smile plastered on his face. Yet, the usual thrill of pre-race anticipation was muted. All he craved was solitude, anywhere he could escape the prying eyes of the media.

He ducked into a secluded corner; a sliver of shade offered by a towering hospitality suite. Quietness for a few seconds, only to be instantly replaced by a gut-punch of surprise. Y/n. She was just on the other side of the wall of tires, face illuminated by the glow of her phone, a serious expression etched on her features.

He should've known retreating wouldn't guarantee escape. And the sight of her, so unexpected, made him suddenly regret his decision and long for the fans and media.

But he couldn't help eavesdropping. It wasn't intentional, not at first. Her voice was laced with a vulnerability he had only witnessed once before. The other voice on the conversation was her brother, he gathered, and his tone was laced with concern.

“You sound exhausted, Y/n,” the man's voice cutting deep into the silence. “Seriously, you need to take a break. The team won’t crumble without you”

Y/n sighed, the sound so different from the girl he remembered. “I’m fine, busy season. That’s all.”

“Is it just the work, or…” He trailed off, the question hanging heavy.

“Don't ask me that,” Y/n cut him off, her voice cracking slightly, and Lewis winced. That wasn't the Y/n he knew. The bubbly, optimistic girl who'd lit up a room with her smile.

Lewis felt a pang of guilt. He knew exactly who she was trying to avoid mentioning. The one who'd left without a real goodbye, the one who'd taken a piece of her with him.

“You know I can't help you if you don't talk about it,” her brother continued gently.

“There’s nothing to talk about” Y/n said, a hint of defiance creeping in. “It’s over. And honestly, maybe I’m glad it is. I don't even know if any of that was real for him.” The anger in her voice barely masked the underlying hurt.

The air grew thick, suffocating. His blood turned to ice. The weight of his actions, the cowardly way he'd ended things before they could get too serious, slammed into him. He'd been the one afraid. Afraid to let himself care, afraid to risk another heartbreak. He'd ended things abruptly, afraid of getting too attached, afraid of the very thing Y/n was now questioning – how real their connection had been.

“Focus on your career, then,” her brother said. “It’s the one thing that won't let you down.”

“Yeah,” Y/n agreed, her voice distant. “At least I can trust that.”

A few days later, a bouquet of lilies arrived at Y/n's desk. Nestled amidst the pristine white blooms was a small card. The note was short, filled with a remorse he couldn't express in words:

"Y/n,

Those moments were real, to me. I never meant to led you on but I was too afraid to admit I was letting myself get too close. I hope you find someone who’s unapologetic about his feelings. You deserve the world.

Lewis."

______________________________________________________________

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[outsideratheart]

Not while I’m around (Alessia Russo x reader)

Not While I’m Around (Alessia Russo x reader)

A/N: Here’s a little fic inspired by last nights game.

Through the fake smiles and lies of excitement you could see the nerves slowly consuming Alessia. 

The first sign of nerves came when you had stayed over as her new house and woke up to find her looking at some of her old United gear. She played it off by saying she woke up feeling nostalgic and that the upcoming fixture hadn’t even come to mind. It was a lie, you and her knew it. 

Then each training session came with questions about her former team. How to stop them? What are there weak spots? It almost felt treacherous for the blonde to share her thoughts. 

“We’re almost there” Alessia says as she looks out the window. 

The two of you were sat next to each other on the coach and up until now very little had been said since your departure from St Albans. 

“Alessia” you say her name but her gaze remains on the view outside the window “Less, look at me” 

She does as you ask and those blue eyes stare back at you. As beautiful as they may be you can just about see the anxiousness behind them. 

“I can’t. I need to stay focused” 

There’s no disagreement. You grab her hand, intertwine her fingers with your own and place them on your lap. Words wasn’t the only way to reassure someone. 

You wished that Alessia had been wrong with her worry about returning to Leigh Sports Village but she wasn’t. It seemed the fans were hellbent on making her feel miserable. Every time she touched the ball they booed and every time she missed a shot or got tackled they cheered.

“It’s so disrespectful” you say at a drinks break. 

“I know. Look at her” Lia points to Alessia who, whilst listening to Jonas’ instructions, was scanning the crowd hoping to see any form of hope that not every fan hated her. 

There wasn’t a lot you could to do about the fans. You hated how loud they were and you could see how much it was affecting Alessia even though she was playing a brilliant game. 

It was just before half time when a line is well and truly crossed. Hayley Ladd goes in for a tackle on Alessia. It wasn’t necessary and it was a tough one. 

“Do you need the medics?” You crouch down next to your girlfriend. Once she shakes your head you are straight in Ladd’s face shouting and pushing her. Kim is the one that drags you away before you do something you’ll regret. 

At half time strategies are discussed but you can’t take your eyes of Alessia who sits on the opposite side of the room. She walks back out to the pitch with Stina, unaware that Jonas keeps you behind. 

“I can’t have you losing your head out there. I know you want to protect her but they will target her now to get to you. I can’t have one of my best players getting sent off” 

“I will be on by best behaviour” Jonas walks just in front of you but stops when he hears you talking again “Unless they hurt her then good luck trying to stop me” 

“Hey blondie” you shout as you take your position. 

Alessia turns around. 

“How about we get you a goal so they have something to complain about?” 

You look to Kim then to Lia who both nod their head. The team wanted a win but having Alessia score against her former team would be icing on the cake.

“I’ll try” 

And try she did. Alessia made the next 15 minutes hell for the defenders in red. It was fun to watch but not as much as getting involved in it yourself. You decide to push forward a bit more and before you know it you are one on one with Mary. The goal is almost guaranteed to happen given your track record with these situations but then you see Alessia making a run to the left of you and you know you won’t be the one on the scoresheet. It was an easy goal, a tap in but Alessia make it look graceful. 

She didn’t celebrate her goal, of course she didn’t. You did though and so did the rest of the team. Alessia ran towards the away fans but you made the extra effort to turn to the home fans and hold you hand up to your ear. It was the quietest they had been all game and you loved it. 

After the goal things got a lot more physical with the United players clearly frustrated. Katie and Caitlin come on and within minutes they both get booked. You look towards Jonas as if asking why they can do it and you can’t. 

Alessia goes down a couple of times and after helping her up each time you look towards your coach. 

The next tackle is the one that makes you snap. 

It’s Ella. Of all people to take Alessia out it is her best friend that does so. United had a corner that doesn’t work. Amanda is able to clear the ball to Alessia who is charging towards Mary. 

“What the hell was that!” You get in her face but don’t touch her. 

“C’mon Y/N you know how I get sometimes” Ella jokingly says referring to her games with England. 

“You think this is funny. Look at her” you point to where Alessia is still on the ground “I don’t care if you’re her best friend. She is my girlfriend and I will protect her. Tell your team to back off or I will take matters into my own hands” 

When Ella doesn’t get carded Jonas gets involved and ends up getting carded himself. 

“Now?” You say as you run to the sideline. Two of your team mates had been carded, now him and your coach wasn’t a hypocrite.

“Fine but only one” 

That’s all you needed to hear. You hated that you needed it but you now had permission to protect her in whichever way you seemed fit. Much to your surprise you were able to be a little bit aggressive with a few United players before a powerful body check against Malard gets you the carded. It was worth it though because she went after your girl. From that moment they seemed to back off. The players who hadn’t yet had a run in with you wanted to be spared your wrath. 

When the full time whistle is blown, the game ends with Arsenal securing all three points. You refused to shake hands with anyone who wronged your girlfriend. 

“Ella wants to come and apologise. Be nice” Alessia’s arms snake around your waist from behind. 

“Did she apologise to you?” You turn and kiss her cheek discreetly. 

“She did but she thinks you’re mad at her. I told her she’s been ridiculous” 

“I am mad at her. Strike that, I’m furious. She hurt you Alessia”

“I’m ok. It’s ok” she loved how protective you were of her but she also didn’t want any tension between you and her best friend. 

“No, it’s not. Not while I’m around. While I’m here, while you are my girlfriend, I won’t stand by and let anyone hurt you. Now I’m going to shower before I get pulled for media” 

You leave the pitch but before you do so you see Ella watching you nervously so you go over to her and tell her that the two of you are fine and that you were only protecting your girl. 

Once showered and changed the team leave the stadium to head to the coach that will take them home. Of course there are fans waiting outside the stadium, most of which you meet before getting on the coach. Ever the gentlewoman you let Alessia on the coach first but she stops on the steps as she hears the fans chanting. 

“TRAITOR. TRAITOR. TRAITOR” 

The blonde turns around to look at the fans, the people she once called family, standing outside the stadium she once called home. You see the look of devastation on her face and it makes your own expression turn cold. 

“Y/N don’t” she grabs your hand but not tight enough. 

You stood up for her on the field and now you plan on doing the same in front on the fans. 

“How can you say that!” You approach the crowd who grows silence. So much so that you could hear a pin drop. 

“She left us” one girl says. 

“All lot of players did. Tell me, if some miracle happens and you face Barcelona would you welcome Ona back this way. Would you boo her every time she touched the ball?” 

You took the silence as your answer. 

“That’s what I thought. That girl, who you are hellbent on making miserable, has been dreading this game. Her leaving you was one of the hardest decisions she has ever made and I know this because she would call me in tears and all she kept saying was she didn’t was to turn her back the fans. She gave her all for this club and is one of the main reasons why you had the success you did last season. Show her some respect!” 

Phones were recording you but you couldn’t care less. You were a protector, everyone knew this. 

“Let’s go home” you say once you reach Alessia who is still standing on the bottom step of the coach when you return to her. 

It’s about an hour into the journey and Alessia is fast asleep in your arms. It was a draining day both mentally and physically for her and you couldn’t wait to take her home. Whether that would be yours or hers was yet to be determined. 

“I’ve never seen you like that before” Lia says from across the table. 

“I can’t let anyone hurt her Lia” 

“You love her don’t you?” She asks and even though you hesitate to respond, you do know the answer and have done for a while now. 

You and Alessia would be celebrating your 1 year anniversary in a couple of months but you knew you loved her the night of the euros or more so the morning after when the blonde woke up in your bed. 

“I do. I love her more than I thought possible” 

“I love you too Tesoro” Alessia mumbles. She looks up at you still half asleep but with a smile on her face. 

[coopswhxre]

Word's Mean Nothin'

Boyd Crowder x (Fem)Reader

Word Count: 3,224

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie

Synopsis: Boyd confesses his feelings for you and things get a little heated.

This is my first time writing anything for tumblr, so please be nice XD

It had been three weeks since your sister Ava allowed Boyd Crowder to stay in the attic of the home you both shared. He had kept to himself, spending his days reading the Bible and listening to the radio. Frankly, you preferred it that way; seeing his smug face was the last thing you wanted after all the trouble he'd brought upon Ava.

On a quiet Sunday afternoon, you decided to enjoy your coffee on the porch, relishing the crisp air, only to be startled by Boyd sitting on the bench by the door, his expression one of deep thought.

With a sigh, you considered him for a moment before turning to go back inside.

"Y/N," his voice was low as he called out your name, his gaze fixed on the woods beyond your property. "Would you sit with me?"

You paused, your foot hovering over the threshold. "Why should I?"

"Please…" His eyes met yours—wide, hazel, and piercing. To your surprise, they seemed to shimmer with what looked like genuine remorse.

"You've got two minutes, Crowder," you conceded, walking over to take the rocking chair opposite him.

You raised an eyebrow, arms crossed defensively as you leaned back. "Well, I ain't got all night, Boyd."

"I've been thinkin' 'bout these past few weeks, what my daddy did to your sister… to you." He gestured towards your shoulder, where a bullet from his father, Bo, had grazed you, sending a chill of remembered pain through you. "I know I can't undo what happened or clear away the bad blood between us, but I need you to know, I'm sorry."

Your gaze hardened, not quite ready to accept his apology, yet you couldn't help but notice the earnestness in his tone—something you hadn't expected from Boyd Crowder. The silence lingered for a moment, punctuated only by the distant calls of evening birds and the soft creak of the rocking chair beneath you.

"Why now, Boyd?" you finally asked, your voice a mix of curiosity and skepticism. "What's changed?"

Boyd sighed, looking down at his hands before meeting your eyes again. "I've had a lot of time to think, up there in that attic. 'Bout my life, the choices I've made, the folks I've hurt." He paused, his voice faltering slightly. "I've realized if I keep goin' down this path, I'll end up all alone. I don't want that. Not anymore."

You watched him, trying to decipher if this was another one of his manipulations. Boyd was known for his silver tongue, and trust was not something easily given, especially to a man like him. Yet, there was something different this time, a vulnerability you hadn't seen before.

"And what 'bout Ava?" you pressed, the concern for your sister surfacing. "What assurances do I have that you won’t put her—or me—in danger again?"

Boyd nodded, understanding the weight of your question. "I can't give you guarantees, Y/N. All I can offer is my word to do better. I wanna protect Ava, not cause her more pain. I hope, in time, you'll see that."

You remained silent, mulling over his words. The evening chill began to seep through your clothes, reminding you of the fading light.

"Time'll tell, Boyd," you finally said, standing up from the rocking chair. "Words mean nothin' without action. You better prove yourself, or you're out."

As you lay in bed that night, the conversation with Boyd replayed endlessly in your mind. His voice, earnest and somber, seemed genuinely filled with regret—a side of him you hadn't seen before. But deep down, you suspected Ava was his true motivation. Boyd had always harbored a soft spot for her, even during her marriage to his brother.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the radio playing upstairs, its volume carrying through the quiet house. With a muttered curse, you threw off the covers and made your way to the attic to tell Boyd to turn it down.

Reaching the attic door, you knocked sharply before entering. The sight that greeted you made you gasp—Boyd, just out of the shower, clad only in a towel around his waist, his skin damp and his hair slicked back. For a moment, you faltered, taken aback by the stark contrast between his usual rugged demeanor and the vulnerability he now displayed.

"Boyd, the music—it’s too loud," you said, striving to keep your voice steady despite the distraction.

"Oh, sorry bout that," Boyd replied, his tone apologetic as he reached for the radio, turning it down immediately. "Didn’t realize it was carrying through the house."

You nodded, your eyes inadvertently scanning the sparse, dimly lit attic. It was clear he lived simply here, with just a few personal items. The vulnerability of his living situation, combined with the unexpected intimacy of the moment, softened your stance just slightly.

"Thanks," you added, pausing at the doorway. "And Boyd—about earlier… I’m thinking about what you said."

Boyd’s eyes met yours, hopeful yet cautious. "I appreciate that, Y/N. Really, I do."

You were already halfway out the door when Boyd's voice halted your steps. "Wait, Y/N," he called, his tone hesitant yet earnest. You paused, your hand on the door frame, and turned back to face him.

"I just… If you've got a minute, I'd like to say a bit more," he said, stepping closer but keeping a respectful distance. The soft light from the single bulb overhead cast shadows that played across his features.

You sighed, your initial irritation fading into a cautious curiosity. "Alright, Boyd. What is it?" you asked, leaning against the door frame.

He took a deep breath, searching for his words - eyes searching the dimly lit attic before settling back on you. The air was thick with tension, his usual confident demeanor replaced by something more tentative. "I know this ain't the time or place, and maybe it's not my place to say, but…" His voice trailed off as he took a cautious step closer, his expression earnest.

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms defensively. "Boyd, if you've got something to say, just say it."

He took a deep breath, his gaze fixed on you. "It's just… these past weeks, being here, seeing how you handle everything… it’s made me realize a lot more than just my mistakes." He paused, swallowing hard. "I’ve come to… care for you, Y/N. More than I should, given everything."

The confession hung between you, startling in its sincerity. Boyd looked vulnerable, almost afraid of how you might respond. "I know I don't deserve a chance, not with my history… but if you'd ever think it possible—"

"Boyd, I—" You started, your mind racing with conflicting emotions.

He stepped forward, closing the gap slightly, his presence overwhelming. "I know it's a lot to ask. I don't even know what I’m asking for. Just… don’t shut me out. Please."

The intensity in his eyes, the raw honesty in his voice, it broke through your defenses in a way you hadn't anticipated. You were about to speak, to chastise him or perhaps to dismiss his words, when impulsively, Boyd leaned in, his hesitation melting away in the moment.

His lips met yours, and for a brief second, the world seemed to stop. The kiss was tentative at first, questioning, as if he was still seeking permission. But as you stood frozen, surprised by your own stillness, something shifted. Maybe it was the isolation of the attic, the soft hum of the now-quiet radio, or the genuine remorse he had shown earlier; whatever it was, you found yourself not pulling away.

The kiss deepened slightly, Boyd's lips firm yet cautious. His hand, tentative at first, found its way to the small of your back, pulling you slightly closer. The warmth of his body contrasted sharply with the cool air of the attic, and you could feel the dampness of his hair, the remnants of his shower, as his fingers gently brushed against your cheek.

The softness of the moment, the gentle pressure of his lips against yours, was disarming. It wasn't rushed or fraught with the intensity of passion often depicted in stories; rather, it was a slow burn, a flicker of something new.

As Boyd finally pulled away, the slight catch in his breath was audible in the quiet of the attic. His eyes searched yours, looking for any sign of regret or rejection. What he found instead was confusion.

Boyd's gaze was unwavering, his brow furrowed slightly as if he was trying to read your thoughts.

"I… I'm sorry if that was too much," he whispered. "I just needed you to know, to really know, how I feel."

The weight of his confession, the unexpected intimacy of the kiss, left you silent for a moment. You were still processing, still trying to align this new Boyd with the one you had known, always calculating, always a step ahead.

His eyes held yours, searching for a sign of how you might react next. The tension was palpable, a mix of anticipation and fear. You took a moment, your own confusion swirling with the unexpected emotions stirred by the kiss.

After what felt like an eternity, you made your decision. Stepping forward, closing the gap Boyd had just created, you reached up to touch his face gently, the touch sent a shiver down your spine. Boyd looked at you, his eyes wide.

Without saying a word, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his again. This time, there was a certainty in your movement, a decision made. Boyd responded almost immediately, his hands moving to your waist as you wrapped your arms around his neck. The kiss deepened, and you invited him further, parting your lips.

Boyd's response was immediate and intense. His tongue met yours, exploring softly, cautiously at first, then with growing confidence as you responded in kind. His fingers pressed into your waist, pulling you flush against his warm chest. The heat from his body enveloped you.

The world outside seemed to fade away as the kiss grew more passionate. You could feel Boyd's heart racing just as fast as yours, his breath mingling with yours, creating a rhythm that felt both exhilarating and terrifying. The soft hum of the radio now seemed like a distant memory, replaced by the sound of your joint breathing and the occasional creak of the attic floor beneath you.

As the kiss finally broke, you both stood there, forehead against forehead, trying to catch your breath. Boyd's hands remained on your waist, not willing to let go just yet, and you made no move to step back.

Boyd finally spoke, his voice husky and low. "Y/N, I—"

"Shh," you whispered, placing a finger on his lips. "Don't. We don’t need words right now."

As the tension in the room shifted from apprehensive to charged, you took Boyd's hand. The air in the attic felt thick, almost tangible with the turn of emotions. Leading him to his bed, you were acutely aware of every sound—the slight creak of the floorboards, the distant call of the night, and the rustle of the towel as it shifted against Boyd's form.

You sat down on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping slightly under your weight. The soft light from the single bulb cast shadows that danced on the walls, adding to the intimacy of the moment. You could see the outline of Boyd's form under the towel, the tension in his body, and the undeniable evidence of his desire.

Boyd stood before you, his breathing deep and uneven.

You reached up, your fingers gently touching the edge of the towel at his waist. Your eyes met, and there was a silent question in yours, a pause as you gave him a moment to decide.

Boyd's hand covered yours, his grip firm yet gentle. He nodded slightly, a wordless agreement, a surrender to the moment and to whatever it might bring. You pulled gently, and the towel fell away, leaving Boyd exposed.

You let out a soft gasp, your eyes widening in both surprise and desire as you took in the sight of him. His swollen tip, coated in glistening precum, called out to you and you couldn't resist. Your mouth watered with anticipation as you enveloped his length with your lips, savoring the velvety texture against your tongue. He groaned and grasped tightly onto your hair as he pushed himself deeper into your mouth, never taking his piercing gaze off of yours.

You moaned as his hand guided your movements, taking him in deeper and savoring the feeling of being completely filled by him. The sound of your moans vibrating around him was like a symphony to his ears until he suddenly let go, creating a soft popping noise as your lips released his member.

"Damn, Y/N," he gasped. "If you keep that up, I won't be able to return the favor." He laughed hoarsely, that toothy grin of his shining in the dim light before his expression turned dark. "Lie back, baby." The intense heat between your legs threatened to consume you at his words, and you couldn't help but melt at the way the word ‘baby’ rolled off his tongue.

You followed his instructions, shifting towards the head of the bed and easing yourself onto the soft pillows. He moved over you, taking in the sight of your body spread out beneath him, his arousal pressing against your thigh through the thin fabric of your pajama shorts.

His lips trailed down your neck, his warm breath sending shivers across your skin as he pressed himself against your thigh. You let out a gasp as he tugged at the neckline of your singlet, exposing one of your erect nipples. His tongue darted out to flick at the sensitive peak before taking it into his mouth, gently sucking and nibbling.

"Boyd…" you moaned, overwhelmed. "please, more."

Sitting up on his knees between your open legs, Boyd’s fingers gripped the waistline of your shorts, slowly pulling them down. Your heart raced as you felt the cool air against your bare skin. He tossed you shorts aside, eyes filled with desire, as he took in the sight of your glistening cunt.

You clenched your hands in the sheets, your breath hitched as you eagerly awaited his next move. The anticipation was almost unbearable.

Boyd leaned in closer, his face just above your quivering core. You felt his breath against your most sensitive spot, making you squirm. His finger traced your outer lips, teasing the entrance of your heat.

And then, finally, he slipped a finger inside, pushing gently against your tight walls. The sensation sent a jolt of pleasure through your entire body that left you gasping for breath.

"Fuck, Y/N," His voice a mix of lust and awe. "You're so tight."

His fingers delved deeper into your core, twisting and curling to ignite a firestorm of sensations that sent shockwaves through your entire body. Your hips eagerly moved in rhythm with his movements, yearning for the release that felt so tantalizingly close.

As he worked his fingers, his lips met yours in a fiery kiss. His tongue matched the rhythm of his skilled digits inside of you.

Just when you thought you couldn't handle any more pleasure, he withdrew his fingers, leaving you longing for more.

He spat into his hand and slicked it over his pulsing member, preparing himself for you.

Your heart raced as he slowly positioned himself at your entrance, pausing to meet your eyes.

You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer, your body begging for the connection that was moments away. And then, with a single, powerful thrust, he entered you, filling you completely.

A gasp escaped your lips, and a wave of pleasure washed over you as you held onto him tightly. Your inner muscles contracted around his length, drawing him in deeper.

Boyd let out a loud grunt, his teeth gritted and eyes squeezed shut as he adjusted to the tightness of your walls. His hands fisted the sheet on either side of your head as he paused for a moment, collecting himself.

Slowly, he began to move, setting a rhythm that sent jolts of pleasure coursing through both of you. You met his thrusts eagerly, your hips moving in tandem with his.

Your breaths became heavier, your bodies glistening with perspiration as the room filled with the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh and the occasional curse from Boyd.

Your hands gripped his back, nails digging deeply into his skin as you pulled him closer. The friction was exquisite, and you could feel the aching need building within you.

Boyd's eyes were locked onto yours, his face a mask of raw emotion. He leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a fervent kiss as he thrust deeper. You moaned into his mouth, your body responding to his every move.

Your climax was building, the pressure growing with each thrust. You could feel it, the tightening coil of pleasure, threatening to unravel. You dug your nails into his back, arching your hips to meet his. The sensation was too much, and you cried out as you peaked, your orgasm washing over you in waves.

Boyd watched you in awe as he continued to thrust into you. The sight of you in the throes of orgasm was more than he could take, and he quickly joined you, his body shuddering as he released deep within you, ropes of hot cum painting your walls white.

Your legs shook with the aftershocks of your orgasm as you melted into the bed. Boyd's weight rested on top of you, his face buried in your neck as he caught his breath.

You ran your hands through his hair, feeling the soft strands between your fingers. "That was…" you began, the words barely escaping your lips.

“Somethin’.” Boyd finished your sentence, his words muffled against your skin when a knock at the door made you both jump.

Boyd quickly rolled off you, grabbing the towel from the floor and wrapping it around his waist. You straightened yourself on the bed, pulling the sheets around you, heart still pounding.

Dear god, you'd forgotten all about your sister downstairs!

Boyd cracked open the door just enough to peek through, and Ava's voice floated in, laced with a hint of amusement. "Y'all planning on making that racket all night? Some of us have a busy day tomorrow," she teased, her tone light but carrying a knowing edge.

A sheepish grin spread across Boyd’s features. "Sorry, Ava," he called back through the slightly ajar door, his voice a mix of embarrassment and mirth. "We'll keep it down."

"Better," Ava replied, her voice now softened with laughter. "Just remember, thin walls in this old house."

[hihhasotherfixations]

Can you make a Drabble of reader telling price she has a teen from a previous relationship and the teen doesn’t trust price with their mom.

Why of course UwU Hope it came out like you wanted!

CW: fem!reader, no further warnings

Word Count: 1825

Dating in his late thirties wasn’t a thing Price was used to. Nor was it something he ever expected to happen. But you? You turned his world upside down.

It had been a casual thing. Price and you, both a little unsure, seeing each other every other week. Sure, deployments sometimes got in the way, but it was consistent. It was nice.

But casual slowly started to change to something more. And now, you had invited him to your house. For dinner, and to come meet your son.

Price knew of your previous relationship and divorce, the two of you had spent several nights at dinner tables bashing the things your ex did - much to both of your enjoyment. So he knew about your son. He was fifteen now, right around that age where everything parents do are wrong and unjust.

But you had explained your son was not like that. He was kind, a complete mama’s boy. He was your rock and your life and everything Price heard about him made him gain an appreciation for the kid.

Surely if he was like that, meeting him wouldn’t be a problem, right?

Well, that was the attitude he’d went into this dinner with. And he was sorely regretting not preparing more thoroughly now.

He’d been called away on a mission last minute, getting back into the country literally an hour before he had to be at your house.

So now here he sat, hair still damp from his quick shower, clothes the fastest thing he could find - a crumpled dress-shirt stuffed into maroon pants - and an overall flustered look to him.

After all, he just flew across the continent twice within 38 hours.

He’d tried to be casual, tried to introduce himself well to the kid. You seemed to approve of everything he’d said. But judging from the scrutinising stare down he was currently getting, your son didn’t think the same.

“So… Do you know what you wanna study after high school?” Price asked, trying to keep the conversation afloat, but it’d felt like a sinking ship for the last twenty minutes.

In response, the boy just shrugged and Price hummed, rolling the pasta on his plate with his fork a bit, trying to think of anything to say.

“Lew.” You sighed at your son.

“What?” He huffed back, twirling the salt shaker on the table. “It’s a stupid question. I don’t know yet. Of course I don’t.”

At that, Price watched as you turned a little more stern, looking at the kid. “Then you can say that politely. Come now, John tried his very best to be here today.”

Glancing at you, Lewis scoffed, giving Price a brief glare that made the military captain tilt his head in both confusion and intrigue. After all, he did nothing wrong as far as he knew.

“Sorry to have brought uncertainty.” He decided to speak up, getting the teen’s attention. “It’s sometimes a bit dodgy with my line of work.”

What was supposed to be a lighthearted comment meant to shed light, instead caused Lewis to glare at Price, slamming his fork down “You gonna leave my mom behind too then?” He spat and you gasped.

“Young man, that’s quite enough!” You started but Price then held up his hand.

“I get it, Lewis.” The man sighed. “Trust me I do. It’s been something your mother and I have talked about a lot.” He started, clasping his hands together in front of himself, elbows on the table as he put his thoughts into words. “My work is… well, shifty.” He sighed. “I’m not a fan of it, but it is what it is. I can’t guarantee that I’ll always be around, that I won’t ever disappear with minimum notice.”

Lewis’ jaw clenched as he listened. But Price kept going, because the kid was fifteen, and he didn’t feel like sugarcoating it. He was smart and old enough.

“But I can guarantee this: I will always keep your mother - and if you wish, you - in the loop. I won’t just leave. I’m not that kind of man.”

Crossing his arms, Lewis leaned back in his chair. “What kind of man are you then? Military big shot?”

Chuckling a little at that, Price looked at the boy. “Tell me this, do you trust your mom?” He motioned to you at that and, confused, Lewis nodded.

“Of course, why?”

“Then trust her that she won’t date some pompous asshole who can’t see beyond his own rank.”

Pursing his lips, Lewis had nothing to say to that, grumpily looking down at his plate instead.

“Kid-“

“Don’t call me that!” He snapped and John shut up. Almost instinctively, his military commander side wanted to rear up, scold him for yelling at his senior, but he restrained himself, instead looking at the angry teen. “You can’t just barge in here, into mom’s life, and expect me to take it laying down!”

Hearing that, you leaned forward onto the table. “Lewis, we’ve talked about this. You agreed to this dinner, you cannot act like this!”

A frown was on your face, almost borderline angry - something John hadn’t ever seen before.

But Lewis didn’t budge, now looking at you. “I won’t stop, mom! It’s obvious, I mean look at him!” He angrily gestured to the brunet, making John’s brows furrow.

“What about him?”

“Don’t make me say it out loud!”

“Lewis.” Your voice was hard and concise.

“He’s not good enough for you!” Lewis then yelled, a silence immediately falling.

Hearing it, Price clenched his jaws, a tightness forming in his chest as he then looked over to you. You held a frown, looking at your son.

“Lew…”

“I’m not hungry.” Without another word, the boy shoved his plate away and got up, storming off.

Speechless, you went to open your mouth, to get up to chase after him, but Price stopped you by placing his hand over yours, his eyes calm, hiding the hurt as he just looked at you.

“Just let him go. Speaking from experience, it’s best to let him cool off and gather his thoughts.”

Conflicted, you looked at him. “I- I don’t get why he’s being like this…” You said softly and John squeezed your hand, a loaded sigh leaving him.

“It’s a big change for him. You can’t blame the boy.” He said, pulling his hand back as he glanced to where Lewis left. “Admittedly, I didn’t think it would go like this. But I also didn’t think he’d accept me into the dynamic instantly. Just don’t take his words to heart right now.” The captain spoke, turning his head back to face you as he then gave you a kind, little smile, the lines around his eyes crinkling gently.

Sighing, you nodded as you placed your head in your hands.

“Dinner’s great, by the way.”

At his sudden comment, you let out a startled little laugh that made John’s heart flutter.

- - - -

Sitting on your porch with a cigar, Price looked out at the night sky. After he stormed off, neither you nor him had seen any sign of Lewis. It truly did put a damper on the evening.

Smoke gently exited Price’s mouth before being picked up by the wind and blown away.

Behind him, the door then opened and he glanced back, his eyes widening a bit as he saw Lewis standing there, a sour expression on his face as he kept his eyes firmly to the ground.

“Hey.” He muttered and Price took the cigar out of his mouth.

“Hi.” He replied, analysing the teen. He didn’t seem entirely thrilled to be here, possibly sent out here by you. It made the captain want to scoff a chuckle. But he didn’t and instead patted the spot beside him where he sat on the stairs of the porch. “Wanna sit?”

“I don’t like-“

“I’ll put it out.” John shushed, holding the cigar away a little. It made Lewis look up, however.

“Aren’t those crazy expensive?”

Chuckling a little, Price crossed his ankle over his knee, pushing the cigar into the underside of his boot. “Yep. But that’s okay.”

Tentatively, Lewis walked over, sitting down besides the man.

“I have to… say sorry. For what I said.” He mumbled and John turned his head, a kinder look on his face, almost serene.

“By your mother?”

Pursing his lips, Lewis turned to look at Price, only to see an amused twinkle in the older man’s eye.

“Maybe.” He instead grumpily mumbled and John just huffed in amusement, turning to look forward as he leaned his elbows on his knees, absentmindedly starting to twirl the extinguished cigar in his hands.

“I get it, Lewis.” He started, his eyes focused on the night sky and his voice soft - almost as if he didn’t want to break the serenity of the night. “Your mom? She’s a wonderful woman. Kind, generous, sweet.” Looking down, Price then focused on his cigar. “You probably don’t want to hear this, but I really like her. And I think she likes me too. I hope so, at least.” With that, he turned his head to the teen.

Lewis was looking at him, a conflicted expression on his face.

“I don’t want to come in here to play family, kid. I’m not your dad and I won’t pretend to be.” He said and then glanced at the door. “I just want to give her what she deserves.” He nudged his head towards the house.

“What I said about you not being good enough…” Lewis mumbled and John sighed, now turning to face the teen.

“Don’t bother. Honestly, you may be right.” He hummed, leaning his head back into the porch railing. “I won’t say I’m a perfect man. Far from it. But what I said at the table is true. I will always try to do right by her. And you too - if you’ll let me.”

Contemplating, Lewis looked out from the porch.

“Why mom?” He said after a moment and Price looked at him.

“Because she’s the first one in a long time to give me a chance. Despite my job and what I’ve done.”

At that, the teen angled his head, taking the brunet beside him in. “Really? What have you done?” He asked, a hint of a smile on his face.

Seeing it, Price huffed a chuckle, pocketing the dud cigar. “That’s classified, I’m afraid.”

“Lame.” Lewis scoffed, but there was no animosity in it and Price smiled to himself.

“Tell you what.” He said, sitting upright and looking at the boy. “You give me a chance and I might tell you some stories.” He held out his hand.

Looking at it, Lewis seemed skeptical at first, glancing at the peace offering. But then he sighed and reached out, shaking hands.

“If you hurt my mom I will kick your ass.”

Laughing, John slapped the kid on the shoulder. “If I do, I’ll let you.”

[evanpeterswhoresblog]

Behind the Crime

Warren Lipka x f!reader

warnings: smut, unprotected p in v, oral male receiving, dominate warren, underage drinking, underage smoking, use of marijuana, rough sex, hint of choking, talk of robbery, um yeah i think that’s it

summary: from the moment you were brought into the heist, you knew working with warren was going to be hard…

word count: 3.4k

a/n: sorry for not posting guys i have not been on the grind lately. i watched this movie and omfg evan was so attractive i just needed to write. if you’re the real warren lipka just scroll this is about evan…

~~~

You sit back in your chair, the crew members adjusting your mic. You’re starting to regret doing this interview, but it’s too late to back out now. Everything’s already set up, the camera is about to be rolling. The interviewer is sitting a few feet away from you, notes in his hand. He waits for you to give him the signal that you’re ready. You nod, he begins.

“So, y/n, how did you become involved with the group?” He asks.

“I was first approached by Spencer when I was eating lunch outside one day...”

~~~

You were sitting alone, the cool fall breeze almost too cold to be comforting. You didn’t pay much mind to it though, you were more focussed on your studying. You were flipping through the pages of another history article when suddenly there was a presence beside you. Looking up at them as soon as you noticed, you recognized the boy as someone from your class.

“Can I help you?” You asked, your tone polite.

He looked nervous as if he were about to ask you out. “Hi, uh, I don’t know if you remember my name, I’m Spencer we have Art History together.”

“Oh, yeah, I’ve seen you,” you replied. “Do you need help with the homework or something?”

“No, I actually wanted to talk to you about something else, if you’re not busy or anything,” he said, his voice quiet.

You look away for a second before replying. “Sure, sit down if you want I’m not busy.”

He smiled at you before quickly sitting at the spot across from you. He put his bag on the table, you could see him take a deep breath. Was he really going to ask you out? You thought he was cute, but definitely not your type. You started to pray he wouldn’t say anything along those lines.

“I started to ask around a week or two ago about people who are good with computers and stuff, a lot of people told me you were the best person to go to,” he started. He lacked confidence in his voice, you felt bad for the poor guy but paid close attention to his words. “I need some... help with cameras.”

“What kind of cameras?” You asked, intrigued.

What he was saying was true, you were decently good with computers. You mostly would hack into places and disable things you didn’t like, like the cameras on the public library computers. It wasn’t anything illegal, at least you didn’t think it was illegal. It probably was, but you didn’t care.

“Just you know cameras in... semipublic places...”

You raised an eyebrow. “Like what kind though? Phone, laptop, desktop, security?”

“Security,” he answered quietly. “But before you say no listen, how does a couple hundred thousand dollars' worth of payment sound?

“What?”

“I won’t tell you the details till I know you’re on board but let's just say something is going down and we need help with the cameras. The pay would be huge and all you’d have to do is just mess with some cameras for like twenty minutes.”

You only stared at him; your mouth slightly hung open. Was he being serious? Was he really asking you to join him in a potential robbery that would pay hundreds of thousands of dollars? You never would’ve expected to be asked such a question on a cloudy Thursday at lunch. You shut your book completely and look around to make sure nobody is close.

“This money, it’s guaranteed?”

He nods. “As long as we get the job done, you’ll have it.”

You knew it was crazy, you knew whatever was going to happen would either result in you going to prison or having to run off into hiding. But the thought of being able to pay all your student loans off and have extra money to live off of was more appealing. Hacking into cameras wasn’t that hard, and it wasn’t going to hurt anyone. Unless it was.

“If you’re trying to get me to make sure a murder or rape isn’t on camera I’ll snitch,” you warned him.

“Oh no, nothing like that is happening at all. It’s just you know a robbery,” he replied, his expression genuine.

You nodded your head, convinced whatever he was asking couldn’t be that bad. “Okay, yeah, I’ll do it.”

~~~

“What was your first impression of the guys?

You smile. “They were really cool, funny, just overall really fun people to hang out with.”

“Do you remember the first time you met all of them?”

“Of course, like it was yesterday...”

~~~

The house you sat in front of didn’t look like a typical criminal's house. It looked like an average American’s family house actually. You were parked out on the road outside the house Spencer told you to go to, you were meeting the rest of the people involved with the robbery. It had been about ten minutes of you sitting out there debating whether or not to go in before you got a text from Spencer asking where you were. You sighed, praying to God this decision was the right one before getting out of your car.

You knocked on the front door with a shaky fist. You started to regret your decision, you thought about turning around and leaving, but the door was opened before you could act on it. An older woman stood in front of you, she looked to be in her 50s.

“Oh, you’re very pretty,” she said, making your cheeks turn red. “You’re here to see Warren, right?”

You had no idea who Warren was, but you nodded. The lady's smile grew, and she opened the door for you and ushered you inside. She directed you to the basement entrance, asking you a million questions you had no answers to. After those few but excruciating painful minutes though, you walked down the basement stairs and finally caught sight of Spencer.

There were three other guys in the room and all of their eyes were on you. Two, along with Spencer, were sitting on a couch. One of them was skinny with glasses, the other muscular with no glasses. They didn’t grasp your attention though. The last guy who was standing did. He had long dark curly hair, and eyes to match. His eyes met yours before you watched them slowly move up and down your body. You didn’t know how to react.

“Guys, this is y/n,” Spencer said, breaking you out of your thoughts.

“Hello, I’m Eric,” the guy with glasses introduced himself.

“Chas,” the muscular guy spoke, not paying much attention to you. “Are you sure this was a good idea, Spence? How much do we really know about this chick? No offense.”

“Shut up, we agreed,” Spencer hissed. He waved you over and you complied, walking to the couch and sitting on the end beside him.

The standing guy took a step forward and held out his hand to you. You looked up at him before accepting his handshake. His hand was rough, you liked the feeling of it in yours. “I’m Warren and you are our cameraman or woman I guess.”

You laughed. “I guess.”

“How much has Spencer told you?” Warren asked after letting go of your hand and stepping back. It was then you noticed the maps on the wall with drawings all over them, the layout looked familiar.

“Just that I need to hack some cameras and that it’ll pay me a lot,” you answered. “I don’t even know what you guys are stealing.”

“Well y/n, I’m sure you’ve been to your own school's library right?”

You nodded.

“Have you ever taken a tour of the library’s rare book collection?”

You nodded again.

Warren smirked. “Then you know exactly what we’re stealing.”

Your face fell and you immediately looked at Spencer and the rest of the guys. “Are you serious? You guys want to steal historic books?”

“I told you this was a bad idea,” Chas mumbled from his chair.

“Shut up Chas,” Warren quickly snapped. He looked back at you, his dark eyes engulfing yours completely. “We’ve been planning this out for months, and you are the last piece to our puzzle y/n. Think about how much you’ll be earning.”

You didn’t say anything. Maybe it was a bad idea.

~~~

“Chas eventually stopped being cold to me, I actually think in the end he became my closest friend in the group,” you say, finishing your story.

The interviewer gives you a look. “Well, besides Warren right?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” you reply, a confused look on your face.

“I have to ask if the stories are true, you know about you and him. The other guys say something changed between the two of you after a party you all attended. I mean, didn’t the police even question if your involvement had a deeper meaning than simply the money?”

You shake your head, giving your best performance. “Me and Warren were only ever best friends, there was never a deeper meaning behind anything.”

~~~

Music was pumping through your body, from the tips of your toes to the top of your head you could feel it. It had been a few weeks since you met the guys, and they all wanted to do something fun before the heist. So, a frat party was naturally the easiest option. That’s where you were now, already two shots and half a joint in. You didn’t know where Spencer, Nick, and Warren were, but Chas was dancing with you.

Though the two of you got off on the wrong foot, you and Chas quickly learned how well you get along. He was a good friend, all of the guys were. You liked how easily they could make you laugh and brighten your mood. They were all good people who you enjoyed being around.

Warren was the only one that you felt different for. You didn’t know why, but from the first day you met you knew your feelings for him would be different than the other three. The way he looked at you alone was completely different than the others. There was always something darker in his eyes, something you knew wasn’t supposed to be there for simply a friend. Every time the two of you looked at each other, your stomach filled with butterflies. You wanted it too. But in those first few weeks, nothing had happened. No matter how much either of you wanted it.

After some minutes of you and Chas dancing, Warren and Spencer appeared. They asked if the two of you wanted to go out and smoke, you both agreed and followed them outside the back. Not too many people were in the backyard, but there were enough for there to be a bonfire going. The four of you found an empty spot near the fire and sat down. Warren took out a joint and lit it before passing it around.

“Where’s Nick?” You asked after taking a hit.

Spencer shrugged. “Probably with the weird kids doing weird stuff.”

“He’s not that weird,” Chas replied. “He’s just awkward.”

You watched as Warren took another long hit of the joint. Because of the weed and alcohol, you found yourself even more attracted to him than when you were sober. You wanted so desperately to run your fingers through his hair, you wanted to hear his voice as you touched him. He suddenly met your gaze, his lips curled up into a mesmerizing smile. You wanted to kiss him. It was too much for you to handle.

You swallowed and stood up, brushing the dirt off your shorts. “I need to um use the bathroom.”

You didn’t wait for any of their replies. Instead, you rushed back into the house straight to the kitchen. You poured yourself a shot, downing it before giving it a second thought. You needed these feelings to go away. How were you supposed to work with Warren if you couldn’t even look at him without thinking about having sex with him? It made you feel awful. A hookup couldn’t be the reason the robbery went bad, you refused to let that happen.

After another shot, you started to forget about your feelings. In fact, you started to forget about Warren completely. All you felt was the burning sensation of the alcohol in your stomach and chest, it felt good. You stumbled out of the kitchen and into the hallway, grabbing the railings of the staircase for support. Suddenly, you felt a presence next to you, their hand on your back.

“Y/N, are you good?” It was Warren.

You turned your head and looked at him, God how could he look even better? “No- I’m not okay.”

“You’re wasted, you need some water,” he said. He moved his hand around your waist and pulled you up straight. You felt like you were on fire. “Come on, back to the kitchen.”

“Why are you here? I just- I just wanna forget about you,” you mumbled.

He started helping you walk back to the kitchen. “What? Why would you want to forget about me?”

“Because... I want you but I can’t have you. I thought you- felt the same that’s why it’s been so hard to resist,” you spoke, stumbling over your words. “I can’t look at you without thinking about you fucking me.”

Even in your drunken state, you could still see the cockiness on Warren’s face. He lifted you up onto the kitchen counter effortlessly before turning and getting you a cup of water. You leaned your head back against one of the cabinets, your head was spinning. You couldn’t think straight.

“Drink,” Warren’s voice filled your ears.

You lifted your head and grabbed the solo cup from his hand, downing the water faster than ever. When you finished, you threw the cup to the floor, your eyes meeting Warren’s once again. He was standing close enough that if you reached, you could touch him.

Perhaps it was because of the alcohol, or perhaps it was because of how long you’d felt the tension between you two, that gave you the courage to gently place your hand on the top of his head. His hair was soft, just like you’d expected it to be. You smiled and played with his curls. He didn’t object, you were glad. You needed this.

“Do you want me?” You asked, your voice barely audible against the loud music.

“What do you think?”

You shrugged. “I thought so, but I could always be wrong.”

“Maybe I should make it clearer,” he said. He grabbed your wrist and pulled your hand off his head before stepping closer to you. “If this house wasn’t crowded, I’d fuck you right here, right now.”

Your heart was racing, your cheeks bright red. You couldn’t believe this was happening. Warren was still holding your wrist, it sent electric shocks throughout your body. His eyes began to shift from your eyes to your lips and so on. You swallowed; a lump had formed in your throat.

“There’s probably an empty room somewhere,” you mentioned. “You could take me to one of them and show me you mean what you say.”

Warren raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know, you’re pretty drunk.”

“I’m not- I swear. I consent, I’ll remember all of this in the morning,” you replied quickly.

“All right.”

Before you could say anything else, Warren scooped you into his arms and began to carry you through the house. You didn’t know whether to pretend you were drunk so it wouldn’t look suspicious or stay awake to also not make it look suspicious. You chose to stay awake and within minutes you and Warren were alone in a bedroom, your lips connected.

The kiss was fast and rough, everything you expected from him. His arms were wrapped around your waist, he towered over you. You wasted no time, immediately kicking off your shoes and pushing Warren back until he fell onto the bed. He pulled you on top of him, guiding your hips in slow motions over his clothed erection. You felt like you were on fire, you needed more.

You broke this kiss and leaned back so you were straddling him. You pulled off your shirt and bra, Warren followed your actions. Once your eyes fell upon his toned abdomen, you audibly moaned. You quickly leaned down again and kissed his chest, beginning a trail down his body. Each breath that left his mouth made your pussy drip even more. And when you reached his navel, his breaths turned into soft whispers.

“Keep going.”

“Please.”

“I’ll do anything.”

When you no longer had any skin left to kiss you looked back up at him, his eyes were already on you. He got your signal and instantly pulled his shorts and boxers off, leaving him completely naked. You weren’t surprised at his size; you had a feeling he’d be big. You started off by slowly stroking him with your hand, the expressions on his face already enough to make you cum.

After a minute or so of that, you bent down and pressed a small kiss to his tip. You loved the way his leg twitched. It made you proud. So, you took him into your mouth. He gasped, one of his hands finding its way to the back of your head. He didn’t push you; he only twirled your hair back into a ponytail-like style and gripped it tight. You moved your head up and down, taking as much of him in your mouth as you could. You were never a fan of giving head to guys, but with Warren, it was a different story.

Not much time passed before Warren pushed you gently, telling you he wasn’t going to last much longer. You didn’t care, you wanted him to finish in your mouth. But he told you he wanted to have sex, so you stopped. You peeled off your shorts and underwear before you climbed back onto him. His naked body against yours felt unreal, you were almost convinced this was all part of your drunken imagination.

However, when Warren pulled your head down and began to kiss your lips again, you knew it had to be real. His hands gripped your ass, kneading and playing with your skin. You positioned his tip at your entrance, you were so wet you didn’t need any lube. You broke the kiss and looked into his eyes, you wanted to know it was okay. He gave you a nod and so you began to push yourself down on him.

He filled you well, just the perfect amount. You had thrown your head back, a moan escaping your lips. You hadn’t had sex in months, and this was the perfect way to break that streak. You started to move your body forward and backward while simultaneously going up and down. Warren’s grip on your ass tightened with each movement you made.

“Fuck baby,” he moaned. “You do it so well.”

Your confidence was boosted; you began to move faster. This only lasted a few minutes though, much to your dismay. You weren’t too athletic; you didn’t have good stamina. Warren noticed this, and without saying anything he flipped your bodies. Once on top of you, he began violent thrusts. You almost screamed from the pleasure; you’d never felt anything remotely close to it in your life. He hit your cervix each time, it made your back arch off the mattress and your nails dig into his back.

“Warren,” you whimpered. “Oh, fuck Warren.”

One of his hands wrapped around your neck. He didn’t squeeze, he just rested it there. You felt the knot in your stomach form at this. It felt so good to be dominated by him. It had been your dream for weeks, and it had finally come true. You closed your eyes and let the feeling of Warren fucking you fill your senses.

When you came, you practically screamed his name. You swore you could see stars. You’d never experienced an orgasm so hard in your life. Warren came a few seconds after you, you felt his dick pulsing inside you. He collapsed on you. You didn’t care about how his weight crushed you, you still held him as the two of you began to come down from your highs.

~~~

As the crew packs up, you remain in your chair, staring blankly out one of your windows. The interviewer is still across from you, but you don’t notice until he speaks.

“Just tell me one thing, off the record,” he says, grabbing your attention. “Did you love him?”

A small smile grows on your lips. “With all my heart.”

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Baki Headcanons (II)

Featuring Jack Hanma, Kaoru Hanayama, Katsumi Orochi and Chiharu Shiba since the latest Baki season is out. TW: Violence, dubious consent

[Baki Masterlist] [Part I]

Jack Hanma

Once Jack finds a purpose or a goal to achieve, he will hunt it down in deplorable mania with no regard to any impediment along the way. He’s deemed you to be his newfound motivation and minor details such as your opinion of it are but a slight detour. He’s already had one dream robbed from him - that of being the strongest. He’s not as generous as to accept yet another loss. Really, (Y/N), why so afraid? He promises you won’t regret it.

Outside of his obsessive tendencies, Jack is rather kind and understanding. He pays great attention to detail when it comes to you and is willing to go to great lengths for your sake. Being a servant on the knee is a small price to pay if he gets to see your satisfied expression. What a strange effect you have on him. To think that his pride immediately crumbles at your feet…No, it’s the other way around. It’s because of you that he can keep his head up, no matter what.

Jealousy or possessiveness are not things that plague Jack. His mere presence is enough to signal loud and clear that you’re not to be approached. Like a wild animal guarding his territory, he finds intruders a warm-up sport to entertain himself with and nothing more. But what if, say, it was you trying to get out instead? Now that would be just plain nonsense. No one else can guarantee your safety to such degree. You must be confused, and in situations like these Jack has no choice but to bring you back to your senses. Regardless of what it takes.

I have to say, if you choose Jack as your boyfriend you should definitely brace yourself. He has vowed to shield you from all threats, but his love for you doesn’t count as one. The fact that you’re laying there bruised all over further shows how intoxicating you are to him. His brain turns into mush and the only thing he can focus on is that you belong entirely to him. He could crush you, break you, kiss you until your lips bleed, hold you until your ribs crack. He holds the power over you and you have willingly offered this vulnerability to him. He doesn’t expect you to hold back, either. He is yours to mark as you please.

He will return to his senses and apologize for the vicious, feral attack during intimacy. He is a man of instinct and logic rarely prevails when dealing with temptations. And you, darling (Y/N), happen to be the strongest drug he’s ever dealt with.

Kaoru Hanayama

Hanayama is initially very conflicted about his feelings. Has he not sworn to dedicate himself entirely to the Family? What kind of puny leader loses focus in the middle of an important agreement between clans to think of a normal civilian? What kind of respected kumichou asks his subordinates to take a detour in their debt collection to check on some regular human? Here he is, sitting between the women working for his business, reluctant to touch them in fear of being disloyal. To whom? You don’t even know him and he’s already built an entire code of honor to follow. Shameful.

It doesn’t take him too long to rationalize his inexplicable attachment. Just like his father had found his mother, he too was bound to stumble upon someone for him, a partner fit to bear the weight of the family honor. He isn’t betraying his Group, he’s providing it with an equally capable leading hand. Oh, he just knows you’ll do great. You were made for this. You were made for him.

Confessing to you is a difficult task. Hanayama usually conveys his feelings with his fists, and he’d rather not pummel you down as the sweet “will you date me” invitation. So you’ll often find him staring intently at you, a frightening aura surrounding him. Any moment now, he’ll say it. And what if you respond with no? He hasn’t considered that. He’s been so entranced by your future together that he didn’t even entertain the idea you wouldn’t want to be part of it. Small obstacle, you just need a little bit of convincing.

He’s not the type to show his jealously, mainly because there’s no need to. If someone flirts with you, you’re not worried for Hanayama’s feelings but for this stranger’s safety. You’ll choke in terror trying to warn them to step away and if they still persist you know you’ll never see them again. One does not mess with the yakuza and lives to tell about it. Hanayama further contributes to this reputation.

The young man is very much aware of your fragility and would never do anything to permanently damage you. That said, he really can’t help the dizzying adoration that overwhelms him whenever he uses his knife on you. Just small, superficial lines gently tracing across your body, that immediately bloom into bright red flowers, cluttering along until they finally burst into an intricate mosaic. He feels like a poet penning his love for you in the most intimate way conceivable, because you’ve offered yourself as a canvas for his eyes and his control only. The Madonna of his existence.

Katsumi Orochi

Katsumi wouldn’t say that he’s taking it too far. He followed all the proper steps, from the innocent secret crush, to shyly confessing his feelings, and finally the drunken delight of hearing your acceptance to date him. There’s nothing wrong with skipping some steps. There’s no textbook claiming that love has to be gradual and evolve in time. If you know you’ve met your soulmate there’s no reason to hold back. And from the moment he laid his eyes on you he’s been certain, this was not mere coincidence.

He’s clumsier than he’d like to admit when it comes to romance, but one thing his extensive karate training has provided him with is discipline. He has a little notebook to keep track of your interests and likes, and if he’s completely clueless about something he will research it later. It helps him keep his plans organized and simultaneously make sure he won’t miss any detail about you.

It he thinks about it, love is a lot like karate indeed. A natural charm for it can hardly compete with raw passion and hard work. Step by step, he can see the fruits of his labor. Martial arts require a cool mind however, and while he’s learned to remain collected and act without haste in a fight, when it comes to you he can’t seem to remain still. His thoughts are burning hot and erratic and the tangled chaos in his head is exhausting. He wishes he could lay out his love for you and carefully smoothen all the folds, but maybe the inability to do so just further proves you’re a special case.

He also doesn’t consider himself to be a jealous individual. Right? In the middle of his training he finds himself idly pondering about such a scenario. He faces the wall, trying to picture a rival that might steal you from him. Silly. You wouldn’t leave him like that. You know how much he loves you. Or do you? He loves you so much. So much. So fucking much. His vision returns and his eyes widen at the large dents and cracks he left in the wall. The skin of his fists is throbbing, irritated.

Katsumi is rather needy during intimate moments. Whether you want him as your dominant or submissive accomplice, he will beg or demand for your words of love. Let him know that you don’t belong to anyone else. That you’re all his, forever and ever and even after death. Always.

Chiharu Shiba

Chiharu is an extremely stubborn man, so if he concludes that he has feelings for you, absolutely no rejection will get through to him. He doesn’t just fall for anyone and isn’t as shallow as to base his interest on appearance alone (though he did almost crash his bike once daydreaming about your face). It’s everything about you that’s convinced him there’s no one else for him. So now he just has to prove that similarly, no one else is better for you.

I feel like he would use his sturdiness and resistance to pain as a way to manipulate you into agreeing with him. You’re unsure whether you like him more than a friend? Is it because he’s not skilled enough? You don’t trust him? He’ll pick random fights with anyone and no matter how battered and bloodied he is, no matter how much you plead he stops, he’ll keep going until he’s dead or until you give in.

It’s his personality to show off. From the flashy bosozoku uniform to his customized retro Kawasaki, he likes to make it clear to others where his priorities lay. That includes his partner, of course. Not only is he the proud leader of Tokkoutai, but more importantly the one you belong to. If he’s feeling extra cheesy he will greet you with a dramatic spin and reveal he had his jacket stitched to some kanji symbols representing your relationship.

Chiharu is not particularly proud of it, but his bouts of jealousy often end in violence. Potential rivals lead him on a downward spiral of anxious what-ifs. He struggles with a certain feeling of inadequacy whenever he compares himself to other fighters. Put him next to someone like Baki and he fades into nothingness; No elaborate fighting skills, just a hard skull and a bunch of dirty tricks. Will that be enough to protect you from anyone? For how long? Before he knows it, his knuckles are dyed red and whoever approached you too fondly is scattered on the ground.

Safe to say this man has a lot of stamina and will be at your service 24/7. Anytime, anywhere. Just let him know. Feeling especially needy? He’ll throw you on the hood of the nearest car and just take care of you regardless of who’s watching. You’re strongly considering keeping a spray water bottle in your bag to keep him under control when you’re in public.

Despite all this he is very soft spoken and careful around you. He would never, ever hurt his precious darling (Y/N). And he won’t allow anything else to hurt you, either. He would die for you. Actually, scratch that. He’ll do you one better. He would kill for you.

[starlightrosa]

Fizzarolli's Nerves

Summary: Fizzarolli is preparing for Mammon's yearly clown contest, and he's getting nervous, as he just has to be perfect. But all this practicing is disrupting Asmodeus's plan of relaxing with his beloved. That won't do at all.

Pairing: Fizz/Asmodeus

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: Tickling, Swearing, Mind-Rotting Fluff. (Author regrets nothing.)

(My very first fic! Please be nice <3)

“You’ll do it, Fizz. You’ll be fine. You need to be perfect for Mammon. Always perfect.” the imp mumbled, practicing everything he felt he needed to practice in order to win Mammon’s clown contest for the tenth time in a row. Fizz knew the elements of the contest off by heart, having won it so many times. So everything running through that little imp’s head was covered.

Balloon animals. Pie gags. Comedy section. Singing, dancing, acrobatics. You name it, Fizz practiced it. There was certainly no shortage on what Fizzarolli could do, and he had to win. He had to be perfect.

That was how Asmodeus, King of Lust and Fizz’s loving partner- er, BUSINESS partner, found him.

“What’s the difference between a snowman and a snow-woman? The snowballs! Wait, no. More energy, I need to have lots more energy. Like, twenty seven coffees kinda energy. Okay. You got this, Fizz. You got this. Try again. What’s the difference between a snow man and a snow woman? The snowballs! Hmm, still missing something. What could I do? Maybe I could juggle? Do a pose? Maybe I could hit myself in the face with a snowball? Um… ah, think, Fizz!” the jester rambled.

Ozzie yawned as he came into the living room where Fizz was, the rooster rubbing at his eyes.

“Froggie, it’s eight in the morning. Are you seriously practicing this early in the morning? Come back to bed, babe. You’re gonna be exhausted…” Asmodeus murmured, the grand lord rubbing at his eyes.

Alas, the imp did not heed Ozzie’s warning.

“Ozzie, I have to be perfect for Mammon. If I’m not perfect, then I’ll lose! And I don’t wanna lose, that just-! Ugh. It just can’t happen, okay? I need to be perfect. I need to be better than perfect! I-!”

And that was when Ozzie got on his knees and scooped Fizz off the ground, pulling his beloved into a hug. Despite initially struggling to get out, Fizz soon relaxed and sunk his head into his lover’s chest.

“Fizzie~” Ozzie coaxed, using that voice that Fizz liked to hear. Honey rich and sweet, it always comforted Fizzarolli enough to talk about what was bothering him, and it brought Ozzie some peace of mind to be able to know what was distressing his beloved imp partner.

“Ugh. Ozz, what if I’m not good enough this year? What if I don’t win?” Fizz asked. Ozzie just chuckled.

“Fizz, you’ve won for nine times straight. Ten times this year, guaranteed. And you wanna know why you win so much? Cause you got some talent about you. Plus, Mammon says he wants the best, and we all know you’re the best he’s got. And besides, if that fat Christmas tree wants something better, he just isn’t gonna find it. Plus he won’t give the others a chance, he’ll pull the strings so you win anyway, and I’ll put money on that bullshit.”

“I need to win, Oz! And I need to practice if I want to win. Can you let me go?” Fizz asked, trying to gently pry himself out of Asmodeus’s arms. The King of Lust, however, did not budge a single bit.

“Well, I would on any other day, but I am not having my Fizzie Frog being anxious as fuck. So here’s what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna go back to bed, watch a stupid rom-com, and laugh at it, spending time with each other along the way.”

“Nice thought. But maybe later, Ozzie.” Fizz murmured. And that was when Asmodeus’s grip tightened slightly.

“I don’t think I phrased it as a question, Froggie~” Asmodeus responded, the Lord of Lust’s fingers moving slightly towards Fizz’s stomach. Fizz squirmed a little in Ozzie’s arms, already knowing where this was going.

“Ozzie, don’t you fucking dare!” Fizz yelped, biting back a smile.

“Oh, but I do fucking dare, baby~ give Ozzie that tum-tum, and I’ll tickle those worries right outta ya!” he declared, his fingers finally landing as he snuck them up Fizzarolli’s jester shirt, softly poking and scratching along Fizz’s belly.

Poor Fizzarolli had no chance to resist.

“Pffffhahahaha! O-Ozziehehehe!” Fizz giggled, gently squirming side to side in his lover’s arms, trying to gently slap Asmodeus’s tickly fingers off.

“Hands to yourself, Froggie. Don’t make me get them out of the way~” Asmodeus teased.

Fizz pouted playfully even as he struggled a bit. Rough tickles made him laugh a lot, but these soft and gentle tickles were much worse sometimes if Ozzie was the one tickling Fizz.

ESPECIALLY if Ozzie was the one tickling Fizz.

Ozzie saw the playful pout and he tutted. His Fizzy, pouting at tickles? Oh, that just would not do, no sir.

Asmodeus migrated his gentle scratches down to Fizzarolli’s hips, enjoying the squeaky laughter that slipped out of his beloved’s mouth. “Aww, someone’s squeaky. Squeaky Fizzie.”

“Hahahaha!!! A-Asmodeus, it tickles! Q-Quihihit it!” Fizzarolli managed to press out, a dark black blush adorning his cheeks. Asmodeus had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop audibly cooing at how goddamn cute his boyfriend was being.

“Not until you agree to come relax with me, Froggie. Just say that you’re done practicing for the day and these tickles will stop. How ‘bout that, huh? Seems a fair deal to me.”

“B-But I can’t stop!”

“If you can’t stop, then neither do these tickles, Froggie.” Asmodeus cooed, a wicked grin on his face as his fingers slipped up to Fizz’s torso to prove a point, beginning to gently count his beloved’s ribs. “Two. Four. Six. Eight…”

Fizzarolli was lost in snorting laughter as he felt Asmodeus’s fingers lightly working his ribs.

“Ahahahaha, hehehehe! N-Not fahahahair, Ozzie! Hahahahaha!” Fizzarolli cackled, the odd snort leaving him. For Lucifer’s sake, how could one imp be this cute? Asmodeus felt his heart squeeze in adoration with every snort that came from Fizzarolli’s mouth.

“All is fair in love and laughter, Froggie.” Asmodeus shot back.

Fizzarolli threw his head back, his jester’s hat jangling as he did so. Satan’s beard, it tickled so much!

“Aah! Ah, ah! Nohohohohahaha! Ozzie, not there! Not there, plehehehease!!” Fizzarolli begged, feeling his lover’s fingers tracing at that one spot at the crook of his neck.

Ozzie only chuckled, not stopping the traces. “I’ve not even done anything yet, Fizzie Frog. You can’t be that ticklish here, surely?” he asked, though Ozzie knew much, much differently. It was one of his little rituals he did. Before they both went to bed, Ozzie would give a gentle kiss on Fizz’s neck each night. The imp was rather ticklish on his neck though, and the feeling of Fizz slamming his face into Ozzie’s chest, trying to muffle his ticklish giggles never failed to bring a smile to the Sin’s face.

“N-No, I’m nohohohot!” Fizz lied, immediately going for the defensive move. But Asmodeus was no fool when it came to his beloved partner. Ozzie knew Fizz’s tells, just as Fizzarolli knew his.

“Is that so, Froggie? Funny, I seem to remember that you can barely handle my goodnight kisses on that neck of yours. Like, all I do is this…” he explains, landing a kiss on Fizzarolli’s neck, right into the crook of his neck with an overexaggerated “MWAH!” noise, grinning wickedly. “…And you just fall about laughing!”

Fizz, as expected, burst into hysterical giggles as he kicked his robotic legs every which way, trying desperately to not kick his beloved in the face.

“O-Ozzie! Stop it, hahaha! Stop it, that tickles, Ozzie!” Fizz cried out, a wide smile betraying his true feelings.

Then Asmodeus decided to get a little bit mean. He gently held Fizz against his chest and nuzzled the crook of his imp partner’s neck… before blowing a soft raspberry into the crook. Fizz absolutely squealed.

“EEEEEEEEK! HAHAHA, AAAH HAHAHA! SHIT, HAHA! OKAY, OZZIE, OKAY!” the ticklish little imp shrieked, going limp in Asmodeus’s arms. And that was when Ozzie knew he’d had enough.

“Thought as much, babe.” Asmodeus smirked, finally switching the mood from playful to cuddly as he stopped the tickles, his fingers softly scratching the top of Fizzarolli’s head. The imp melted under his touch as Ozzie walked back to their shared bedroom, the doors closing behind them.

Asmodeus settled Fizz under the covers with him. And soon the pair drifted off, smiles on both of their faces as the sounds of that dumb rom-com in question, Pretty Woman, played in the background forgotten by them both.

Finito! Hope you enjoyed this one :)

[dark-frosted-heart]

Roger Barel Main Route - Chapter 18 His POV

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this. I’m doing this for archiving purposes and you can probably find a better translation out there.

As I was about to be taken away by the Privy Council, Kate took my hand and led me to the garden behind the palace.

Kate: Roger, what’s the meaning of this? Arrest…

Roger: Calm down, Kate. Whatever’s going on is just as you heard.

Kate: …There’s really an arrest warrant?

(Don’t look so sad...I can’t resign myself to this if you make that face)

A deep sigh filled the space between us.

Roger: …Yeah, long story short—I’ve been set up by the Privy Council.

I’m now a criminal and a traitor to Crown.

At first, I thought it was one of those Vogel guys behind it. Never thought it’d be one of our own.

Kate frowned in confusion.

Kate: …Traitor? You…? …There’s no way that will ever happen.

You would never betray Crown!

(Yeah, I know. I thought it was impossible)

(That’s why I made you that promise that day. I made a vow to myself when I purposely said those words)

~~ Flashback ~~

Roger: However, I’m gonna change my fate. It’s absurd to allow myself to be controlled by it. Kate, I’ve taken a liking to you so I’ll promise you this. I will never betray you without a reason. Never.

~~ End flashback ~~

As someone who spent my life trying to tame my curse, surrendering to it was like admitting defeat.

But—I completely lost.

Roger: …I could.

Kate: Roger…?

Roger: …It’s laughable, isn’t it…?

I was shaking with the anger, sadness, and despair rising within me.

Roger: I swore to myself that I’d tame my curse. I wouldn’t let fate drive me mad like God’s whim.

I resolved to never betray anyone unknowingly. ..And yet.

You can’t fight it…just by your will alone?

Kate: …

I’ve lived all my life fighting against despair.

But it’s like my curse was mocking me, saying “it was all useless.”

Roger: Is this how I meet my tragic end?

…Surrendering myself to my curse…

Kate: No…

You won’t! You can’t let your curse beat you—

I heard the voices and footsteps of those searching for us. Kate took my hand and quickly hid behind a hedge of Chinese privet.

I could hear their footsteps coming closer, signaling that our brief moment together was about to come to an end.

(It sounds pathetic, but the only thing I can do now is let her go. Can’t get her involved. I can do that much)

Kate: Run away with me, Roger.

Roger: That’d just make the crime worse.

Kate: …I still don’t have a complete grasp on the situation.

However, I know you’ve been falsely accused. Until that gets cleared up…

As if to stop Kate from weaving more kind words, I cut her off.

Roger: Kate, though we ended up spending time together by pure chance, I enjoyed it.

Kate’s eyes wavered.

Kate: What are you talking about at a time like this?

(...I can’t waver. I just need to tell her the truth as simple as possible) 

Roger: Take care of Ale. My old man should be back soon to pick him up.

I picked Ale up and shoved him in Kate’s arms.

Kate: Eh, huh?

Roger: And when your time as Fairytale Keeper’s up, turn to Victor. He’s a good one.

Kate: Roger, what are you saying?

Roger: And finally.

(“Finally”, huh?)

That word brought up emotions that I desperately tried to hold back.

(...Ah, damn it.  Love is such a foolish, troublesome emotion)

My body moved on its own—I impulsively took Kate’s lips with mine.

Roger: —Kate, I've fallen for you.

Kate: …

(...I didn’t plan to tell you this at the very end)

Roger: Heh, what’s with that dumb look? You didn’t notice? You’re pretty dense for someone that boasted about being a teacher of love. You’ve got terrible drinking habits and hate losing, but you’re earnest and stubborn. I know your bad points.  Still, even with all this trouble…Kate, I adore you.

Kate’s eyes were filled with a mixture of anger and sadness.

Kate: …Why are you telling me all of this now?!

Roger: ‘Cause I might never see you again. My ego’s telling me I’ll regret not telling you.

Kate: Never see me again…

(Kate. Anyone who says stuff like at the last moment’s no good)

(I’m a selfish man that wants a part of me left in you, even if just a little. That’s why)

Roger: I’m retracting my definition of “romantic love’s just a dysfunction of the brain or a misunderstanding caused by sexual desire.” Love definitely exists in this world. Q.E.D.

(You deserve to be adored by someone more kind and sincere. I want you to keep laughing and smiling for the rest of your life)

Privy Council member: There they are, I found them!

Roger: Whoops, looks like time’s up. They’re so impatient.

Kate: Roger…

Roger: See ya, Kate. Take care. Ale, you live a long life too.

Ale: …Kuuuuun?

Roger: …Can’t even pet you cuties’ heads with these handcuffs on.

I tried to smile like I usually do and turned my back on Kate and Ale.

Kate: No, Roger! Don’t go!

(...Don’t make such a sad sound)

Kate: …Roger, Roger! There’s no way you can’t hear me!

(Yeah, I can hear you. I won’t forget your voice for the rest of my life)

Kate: Roger!

(Kate)

(Please don’t give in to despair. Be happy)

And thus—I disappeared from Kate’s sight.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Anything Can (And Will) Happen

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!Chen!reader (Lucy's sister)

Summary: When Lucy tells you about Tim's eventful Halloween a few years ago, you use it to tease him. When he gets annoyed, the truth comes out.

Warnings: spoilers for The Rookie 4x5 "ACH", fluff!!!

Word Count: 2.1k+ words

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

You remember the day you met Tim Bradford perfectly. It was six months ago, and you haven’t been the same since then…

✯✯✯✯✯

6 Months Ago

The text you got from your sister Lucy this morning just said, “My place. 7 pm.”

You, of course, agree to visit her. It has been a long week, and you love spending time with her. When she adds that she found a new recipe she wants to try, your excitement level grows tenfold.

While you sit on her couch, listening to her talk about her day at work between prepping the recipe, it's easy to relax and smile. You hit the sister jackpot, you think. When Lucy falls silent, you glance over and ask what’s wrong.

“I forgot the spices,” she says with a pout. “The store at the corner should have them, I’ll be back in ten.”

“Luce, you don’t have to get the exact spices,” you point out.

“But then it won’t taste right! I’ll be right back, but can you let Tamara in if she forgot her key again?”

You promise to do just that, shaking your head as Lucy rushes out with another guarantee she’ll be quick. Five minutes later, someone knocks on the door, and you stretch as you stand.

“Tamara, I’m going to buy you a keychain for your birthday,” you call as you walk to the door.

As soon as you open it, you see it’s not Tamara.

“You’re not Lucy,” the handsome man standing before you says, leaning forward to glance over your shoulder.

“She just ran to the store; she’ll be right back. Come on in,” you invite.

“You’re letting strangers into an apartment that isn’t yours?” he asks as he closes the door.

You return to the couch and sigh. “You’re not a stranger; you’re Tim Bradford, right?”

He furrows his brows before nodding. Before he can ask how you know that, you answer, “Lucy talks about you a lot. Undersold your looks, though, so I’ll have to talk to her about that.”

“Wait- so, Lucy is…”

“My sister.”

“She never mentioned a sister.”

The door opens, and Lucy reenters with a bag in the crook of her elbow. “Tim? What are you doing here?”

“I, uh, Angela wanted me to ask if you’d be up to help with another UC op and I’m supposed to help you prepare. But, I see you are busy, so I’ll just go.”

“Officer Bradford?” you ask. When he turns to face you, you smile and say, “You should stay for dinner.”

“Oh, no, I can’t intrude on… this.”

Lucy looks at you, disappointed, as she shakes her head. You’re always willing to listen to stories about Tim, yet you ignored your chance to properly introduce yourself.

“Tim, this is my sister,” Lucy says, giving him your name.

Tim repeats your name under his breath, returning your smile as he agrees to stay for dinner.

“I’m going to regret this,” Lucy mumbles as she resumes cooking.

“I won’t.” You say it low enough that only Tim can hear, but his smile makes you think he wants to agree.

✯✯✯✯✯

Present Day - Halloween

“Good morning,” you call as you enter Lucy’s apartment. “And Happy Halloween.”

“Hey,” Lucy replies, hugging you as she asks Tamara to get the blueberries from the fridge.

“We don’t have any,” Tamara announces.

“Wha- I just went shopping. Hey, when you finish something, you need to put it on the shopping list.”

“I didn’t eat them,” Tamara argues. Lucy gives her a look she mastered for getting you to confess, and Tamara repeats, “I didn’t!”

 “Luce, I think you have a ghost,” you tease. “Am I still coming over tonight?”

“Don’t you have plans with Tim?” Tamara asks.

“He’s working,” you and Lucy answer together.

“Of course, you’re still coming over tonight,” Lucy tells you.

Someone knocks on the door, and when Lucy turns around, you steal a piece of fruit from the blender, winking at Tamara when she laughs.

“Hello,” Lucy greets.

“Hi. I’m Margaret from 604. You’re a cop, right?” the woman asks.

“Yeah. Uh, what’s going on?”

You follow Lucy, Tamara, and Margaret down the hall, surprised to see the argument unfolding as an older woman throws equipment out of her apartment.

“Whoa. Police,” Lucy calls. “What’s going on?”

“They robbed me!” the woman accuses.

“Okay, that is not at all true,” a man kneeling beside the equipment says.

“Mrs. Crouch hired us to rid her home of an aggressive spirit,” his partner adds.

“You mean a ghost? You guys are ghost hunters?” Tamara asks excitedly.

Lucy looks over at you, and you raise your hands in surrender. “I was completely kidding about the ghost thing.”

“Yeah, we are,” the man answers. “The spirit in Mrs. Crouch’s apartment is rather just stubborn, so we said that we would do a follow-up…”

“Hey,” you whisper to Tamara. “As entertaining as this is, I need to go to work, so, uh, keep me updated and tell Lucy I’ll see her later?”

Tamara nods distractedly, and you pat her shoulder before walking away.

✯✯✯✯✯

Lucy wants to call you. You’re the only other person in the world who understands the emotions she’s dealing with right now. But, since you’re at work, she decides to tell Nolan and ask his opinion instead.

“Your mother did what?” he exclaims.

“She pre-paid for me to have my eggs frozen at a fertility clinic,” she answers.

“I thought you and your mother weren’t talking.”

Lucy scoffs before replying, “She’s definitely talking now. Seriously, what makes her think she has the right?”

She and Nolan fall silent as Grey and Tim walk in, preparing for roll call.

“Alright. Nolan…” Wade begins, pulling a piece of candy from an orange bucket. “Can you tell me what today is and what ‘ACH’ stands for?”

“Today is Halloween, and I have no idea what ‘ACH’ stands for,” Nolan answers, prepared to catch the candy.

“No candy for partial answers. Harper?”

“Anything can happen,” Nyla answers, catching her candy as she finishes. “Basically a reminder to be extra careful ‘cause today is Halloween and Halloween is unpredictable.”

“Correct. And since Officer Thorsen has range qualifications today, you’re back to riding with Nolan.”

“Oh, just like old times.”

“Yeah, without the fear of the whole blue-page thing,” Nolan adds.

“Uh, what kind of unpredictable can we expect today?” Lucy asks.

“Good question Chen.”

Tim continues, “Lot of liquid courage. Lot of 211s. Teenagers snatching little kids’ candy. Masked people running into liquor stores. Do they have a gun or are they just late for a party? Muzzle discipline is crucial.”

“And?” Wade presses. “Can you remind us how you got your uniform torn three Halloweens ago?”

“Uh… if, you get dispatched to a loud party, make sure they know you’re not the stripper,” Tim answers slowly.

Lucy laughs as the other officers cheer. He looks over at her, and she presses her lips together, trying and failing to stop.

“We’ll try to get you home on time, but its Halloween, so…” Wade begins before everyone finishes, “Anything can happen.”

“I need to go call my sister,” Lucy whispers to Nolan.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Hello?” you ask, answering your phone.

“Hey, have you talked to Mom recently?” Lucy asks quickly.

“No. Why?”

“Because she paid to have my eggs frozen at a fertility clinic!”

“She did what?!”

“I know! I- why didn’t you get a call?”

“Because I have a boyfriend, so I’m the good daughter,” you tease. “But, Luce, that’s completely your choice. Think about it before you make a decision, okay?”

“I- I will, it’s just-“

“She shouldn’t have done it without asking, but she’s, well, she’s Mom and she’s borderline insane,” you finish.

“Yeah,” Lucy sighs. “Ooh, wait, I have something to tell you about Tim, too!”

✯✯✯✯✯

“I’m just saying, I am only 29,” Lucy continues. “My eggs are nowhere near their expiration date. But clearly, my mother thinks that I’m a pathetic loser who’s never gonna find a partner before her fertility clock ticks down.”

Tim looks to the ceiling, wondering why she is talking to him about this.

“Have you talked to your sister?” he asks.

“Yes. She thinks I should think about it before I decide what to do.”

“I agree. It sounds like your mom is just looking out for you, knowing how busy you are.”

“Wha- are you taking her side?”

“I’m not taking her side. It’s just—you know what, talk to your sister, I’m not doing this with you.”

“She didn’t make an appointment for my sister,” Lucy grumbles.

✯✯✯✯✯

When Tamara texts you that Lucy and Angela are working on the case, you decide not to hand out candy with them. You know Lucy, and she’ll get distracted and go on a legitimate ghost hunt, so you let yourself into Tim’s house when you get off work instead.

You’re not expecting him to get off early, so when he walks through the door just a few minutes after you sit down, you’re surprised. When you see he’s still wearing his uniform, you remember what Lucy told you about the stripper incident a few Halloweens ago and start laughing.

Your laughter shakes your entire body, and you lean against the arm of the couch for support. Tim watches you, confused and slightly concerned about what is causing you to laugh so hard. He moves to stand at the back of the couch, but when you catch sight of his uniform, your laughter starts anew. Pressing your hand to your chest as it gets tight, you force yourself to take a few deep breaths.

“What is so funny?” Tim asks when you begin to quiet.

“I- I didn’t call a stripper,” you blurt out before laughing again.

“I’m going to kill your sister,” he says under his breath.

Between laughs, you say, “Not if the ghost does first.”

“What are you talking about?”

As you look up, you notice he’s unbuttoned the top of his uniform, and tears begin leaking from your eyes as you hold your laughter inside.

“I thought you were working late,” you say, wiping the tears away.

“Got off early. I thought you were going to Lucy’s.”

“They’re hunting ghosts.”

Tim wants to ask more but knows better. He’s heard enough about Lucy and her day. When Tim left work, he considered the prospect of spending more time with you, but now he’s unsure if that’s a good idea.

“Did you bring your own music?” you ask, chuckling again with your teasing.

“Stop,” Tim answers roughly before walking toward his room to change.

You’re laying it on thick, but the story is too funny not to take advantage of it at least for a while. When he’s well and truly annoyed, you’ll have to spend a long time and a lot of attention apologizing, but for now, you think it’s worth it. He reappears from the hall, dressed in a Henley and sweatpants.

“Boo!” you call. “Finish the show? Please?” You bat your eyelashes as you ask but Tim ignores you. “Hey, Tim, for- for scientific reasons: where is the best place to rip the uniform? Like, straight down the middle, or…”

“Don’t start,” he warns.

“Too late.”

His jaw clenches, and the fact that he hasn’t kissed you yet makes you realize he got annoyed way faster than usual.

“Tim, I’m sorry,” you say quietly, looking over the back of the couch at him. “Lucy shouldn’t have told me, but I shouldn’t have been so… so teasing about it.”

“You’re right.”

“Was today okay? At work? I heard about the zombie drug but I know Halloween is a rough day for cops.”

“It was fine.”

His short answers and inability to look at you make you sigh. You stand, walking to his side and leaning against the counter.

“I really am sorry,” you whisper. “I won’t do it again.”

Tim looks at you from the corner of his eye, and you amend, “I won’t take it as far again.”

“Sure you won’t.”

“Tim, why does it bother you so much?”

“Because- look, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I want to be more than a Halloween cop horror story to you.”

Your eyes widen as he speaks, and when he finishes, you ask, “Kiss me?”

“What?”

“Tim,” you whine, grabbing his arm with both hands. “That was the sweetest thing you’ve ever said. Please kiss me?”

“Go find a stripper willing to kiss you,” he replies.

“Tim, please. If you break up with me my mom will freeze my eggs.”

Tim tips his head forward, sighing when it hits your shoulder. “There’s two of you.”

“Hey, you knew what you were getting into. Besides, aren’t I the ‘best thing that’s ever happened’ to you?”

Shaking his head, Tim stands to his full height, and when you open your mouth to say something else, he cups your face in his hands and kisses you. The teasing comment dies away as you kiss Tim.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, too,” you say against him.

“Maybe you should remember that the next time Lucy tells you about something I say at work.”

[earthtooz]

𝗠𝗜𝗦𝗧𝗟𝗘𝗧𝗢𝗘 𝗠𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗔𝗣

in which: there always seems to be a mistletoe above your head whenever todoroki's around...

warnings: 4k+ words, fluff, swearing, kissing, jokes of k*lling someone bc bakugou is there, bad writing :/

a/n: welcome to the first day of my xmas event! ofc bc todoroki is my ULTIMATE bias ☝️ i just needed to start off with him. enjoy!

˗ˏˋ XMAS MASTERLIST ´ˎ˗

“You idiot! I’ll kill you!” 

You stand idly by on the porch of Class A’s dorms, pitifully watching Kaminari getting chased by Bakugou, who has clear murderous intent for the electric boy as sparks erupt threateningly from his palms. The squeals and screams from both blonds have attracted a crowd of students, noting the way that Jirou and Sero both cackle with delight, their laughter from inside the dorm audible where they watch from the window, and Mina looks proud of herself standing beside you.

As the snow fell and temperatures began to drop, it indicated the beginning of the Christmas season. Meaning, Mina thought it would be a good idea to put up mistletoes where people least expect it around the dorms, and poor Kaminari was stuck with kissing Bakugou as his first victim. You watched in amusement and horror as the yellow-haired swiftly pecked Bakugou’s cheek before running away, and now, he was stuck in a never-ending chase until his head is blown off. 

“Is this a good idea?” You ask the acid user, concern lacing your expression.

“Oh absolutely! It’ll bring some excitement to our holiday season!” She responds. “Kaminari just got the short straw having to kiss Bakugou first! He won’t be the only one though, I guarantee it.”

You huff. “This is cruel.”

“I don’t think you’ll feel that way when I set you up with a certain boy,” she winks, causing you to choke on nothing, sputtering at her antics as you try to rack some sort of reply in your mind.

You regretted telling Mina about your crush on a certain classmate, and before you could stop her, her expression shows that she’s already setting something up, calculating a plan in that mind of hers

“C’mon, don’t do that to him, Mina. He wouldn’t want to kiss me,” you mutter, crossing your arms in defeat, a frown gracing your lips at your own misfortune. Just as Mina opens her mouth to deny your claim, a voice pops up behind you that almost sent you into cardiac arrest.

“Who wouldn’t want to kiss you?” 

“Hey Todoroki,” Mina greets, poking you in your ribs. “What’s up?”

“Hey Todoroki,” Mina greets, poking you in your ribs. “What’s up?”

“Hey Todoroki,” Mina greets, poking you in your ribs. “What’s up?”

“Dinner’s ready, I came to get you guys but it looks like Bakugou and Kaminari are busy, huh?”

“Busy trying to make a crime scene? Yeah, you could say that,” you quip sarcastically, trying to recover from your embarrassment of Todoroki almost discovering that you’d like to kiss him. On queue, Bakugou yells out a ferocious ‘die!’, paired with an explosion and Kaminari screaming. “We were waiting for Bakugou to calm down but I don’t think he will any time soon.”

Todoroki chuckles at your statement. “You’re right. What are they fighting about?”

“I hung up some mistletoes around the dorms and Denki had to kiss Bakugou. You can imagine how that went,” Mina looks proud of herself, despite the chaos that she’s responsible for. Kaminari has probably fit in a weeks worth of cardio training at this point, Bakugou too.

“Like, on the lips?” 

“No, just on the cheek.”

“And he got that mad?”

“Well, he’s always that mad,” you retort. Both your classmates agree with you. You finally step in when the explosive blond grabs Denki by the collar, effectively giving him whiplash before raising his heated palms to his friend’s face. “Bakugou, let Kaminari go already!”

“Hah?” Bakugou exclaims, his raspy voice echoing throughout the open space of your dorm’s garden as he lowers Denki to sag on the floor. “You wanna die?”

“It’s dinner time, twat,” you retort. “Can you continue your plans of murdering Denki after dinner?”

He growls, dropping your classmate into the snow before stomping over to the dorm entrance but not without sending you the stink eye. 

As he pushes past, Kaminari stumbles into your arms, sagging in relief as you struggle to hold up all of his body weight. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he cries repetitively. Were those tears in his eyes?

“You’re welcome… everything okay?” 

“I thought I was about to be sent 6 feet underground.” 

Todoroki grabs the electric hero by both his arms and helps him stand upright from where you were struggling to hold him. There’s a little more force required in the way that he picks up Kaminari, and you’re almost shocked by how smoothly he does so. “It’s dinner time, you should go get some food.” 

If you looked a little closer, you would be able to see the presence of jealousy lingering in his eyes.

“You’re the man, Todoroki!” Your classmate sobs before leaning on Mina’s shoulder, actually breaking into tears this time. He’s chanting things that you can’t decipher, the pair leaving you and Todoroki alone outside.

The wind picks up, sending a chill down your spine as you tug on the sleeves of your sweater. “Let’s go inside too, I’m freezing.”

A hand on your wrist stops your advances and you turn around to meet Todoroki’s eyes, immediately becoming entranced in the grey and blue of his irises. The heat from his hand is enough to wither the cold that seeped into your bones. “What does Mina mean that she put mistletoes around the dorms?”

“Oh, she’s just hung them around the place. I don’t necessarily know why but I guess it’s a part of the festive spirit?”

“How many of them?” 

“Well, it is Mina so my guess could be twenty to a thousand,” you murmur. “I don’t care to find out.”

Todoroki’s face is unchanging, but you feel like he’s scheming something. He always is in that brilliant mind of his, but you don’t enjoy the churning of your gut that tells you you’re going to be involved somehow. What business could he have with a mistletoe? Is he planning something on a classmate? Someone he’s interested in perhaps?

Thinking about it brings a frown to your face so you pull your hand out of Todoroki’s grasp and head back inside for a little relief from an unpleasant feeling that plagued your body; a sensation that didn’t exist solely because of the cold.

A few days later, Mina would strike, starting a series of fortunate, but also, very embarrassing events.

“Morning, Y/N!” Uraraka greets when you appear in the common area. Having just brushed your teeth and done your morning routine, you feel rejuvenated when greeting your friends. Asui pops her head over the couch at your entrance and waves.

���Good morning. How did you both sleep?” You ask, walking over to where she was sitting on the couches and jumping over the back to sit down. 

“Great! Tsuyu and I are planning some things for the Christmas dorm party. Care to join us?”

“I’d love to, what’re you doing?”

The amphibian-like hero turns her laptop around so its screen was displayed at you. You take note of the decoration site that she was currently scrolling through. More specifically, the seemingly endless flow of plastic Christmas trees that this website provided.

“I thought we already had one?”

“We don’t, not until the boys broke and it ended up in flames,” Asui reminds you and you laugh at the memory of the poor Christmas tree you had last year. Somehow, Kirishima managed to push Denki to crash into it and then all the lights malfunctioned, burning the branches a little, but since the tree was near a lit fireplace, one thing turned into another and marked the end of Class A’s Christmas Party for second year. It definitely wasn’t funny at the time when Aizawa had to reprimand the lot of them, but it definitely is something to chuckle at now.

Core memories with Class A.

“I guess they did, huh?” You sigh. “To be fair, they can break the one this year because it’s our last Christmas celebration at U.A.”

“Don’t remind us!” Ochako slaps your shoulder quite firmly and you slip out a little ‘ouch’ from the impact. “I’m gonna cry again!”

“Please don’t cry,” the green-haired commands.

“Hey, I have an idea that we can do for the Christmas tree!” You pipe up, raising your pointer finger to the ceiling, mimicking an ‘eureka’ position. “We should order some Christmas balls and get art supplies so everyone in the class can customise one and put it on the tree!”

Both of them light up at your suggestion, nodding in agreement.

After a few more discussions over the logistics and decorations of the party, your stomach grumbles in protest, reminding you that you hadn’t eaten breakfast since getting up. Asui about sends you off to the kitchen, banning you from contributing any more until you’ve had food.

As you’re halfway through cutting some fruit for a bowl of cereal when a familiar, deep voice breaks the silence of the kitchen.

“Good morning, L/N.”

You almost jump from shock, tightening your grip on the knife before turning around to see who the perpetrator was.

“Oh, hello Todoroki! Did you just wake up?”

“Yeah, slept in a little longer than I would have liked. Midoriya and Iida were supposed to wake me up to go for a run but they didn’t follow through with their promise,” he complains.

“To be fair, you sleep like a log,” you comment, turning around to resume cutting the fruits. The half-and-half takes his place by your side, watching you. Suddenly the knife handle feels slippery.

“I do not.”

“You do! We literally had a competition at training camp to see who could wake you up and it took seven people!”

He grunts, rubbing his eye. “No one comes between me and my slumber.”

You chuckle, letting silence engulf the atmosphere momentarily as you walk over to the pantry. You pretend to not see him snag a slice of banana, popping it in his mouth before you can miss it too much.

“What’re you gonna make for breakfast?”

“I might just boil some eggs and have miso soup.”

“That sounds good. Nice and warm for the morning.”

“I’m happy to share.”

You shake your head, rejecting his offer. “No, it’s okay thank you. I am going to make some barley tea though, would you like some of that?”

He nods and for the next few minutes, you both operate in silence, nothing but the sound of kitchen appliances operating filling the air. You pour four cups of tea, two for you and Todoroki, and two for the two classmates you were just talking to.

You leave the kettle out for everyone though and by the time you were done plating the add-ons to your cereal, Todoroki had heated up his miso soup and finished boiling his eggs.

“Would you like to eat together?” He asks, gesturing to the dining table near the kitchen counter.

Your heart flutters, flattered that Todoroki didn’t mind spending time with you one-on-one. It’s uncommon for him to spend time with another alone; whenever you see him he was always in at least a group of three or by himself in content solitude. Settling in seats beside each other, you both discuss weightless conversations with no depth behind them, but you adore his presence regardless, satisfied with any chance to spend some time with him.

As the food in your plates lessens to zero, you begrudgingly rise to end your conversation and put the dishes in the sink. After breakfast was when you had your morning stretching session before going into quirk and strength training, then you had to finish off your assignments because even though homework was the last thing you want to do, Present Mic is quite terrifying when he puts you on the spot during English lessons.

But, before you could walk away, a hand pulls at your shirt, capturing your attention.

Glancing at your classmate in confusion, he answers any questions you had by pointing to the ceiling, where, to your horror, hangs a beautifully innocent mistletoe that you know was not there before. Judging by the ripped edge of the tape- Sero’s tape- that held the mistletoe to the ceiling, you could tell that this was a recent scheme.

Todoroki then stands up assertively, pushing his chair out as he faces you and you find it hard to meet his gaze.

“I- We don’t have to if you’re uncomfortable with it!” You exclaim, the words coming out as a jumble of nothing that he was somehow able to decipher.

He shakes his head in reassurance. “No, I’m okay with it. So, should I be expecting a kiss?”

You can’t think straight, you think you’re dreaming, is this a hallucination? Has your feelings finally gone off the rails that you’re imagining the way that Todoroki was ever-so-softly smiling down at you? He looks so joyful for the predicament that he’s stuck in. What if you ruin his plans? You thought he was scheming something with the mistletoes so someone in your class could kiss him, and said person was probably not you.

“We never speak of this again.”

Something within you whispers ‘fuck it’ before leaning in, cupping the left side of his jjaw to place a gentle and quick peck on his right cheek. If you were a little more aware, you would’ve seen the way he gleefully shut his eyes as a reflex to your close proximity.

When you part, you quickly swipe the dirty dishes before scrambling away, mind in scrambles.

His skin was so soft that you almost feel horrible for tarnishing it, but the memory was so euphoric that as you continued along with your day, it only got sweeter each time you replayed the moment. You just hope Todoroki forgets about what happened because you sure as hell can’t, the scribbles on your homework lay testament to that claim.

When you finally emerge from your room after slouching over your homework for five hours, it seems like whatever happened in the morning between you and Todoroki was out of mind, out of sight; the best option for your psyche.

Regardless, the memory keeps you up at night, often making you cringe as you bury your head into the pillow as if you were sealing the moment away into a coffin, locking it up and throwing it in the ocean of your forgotten, ‘here lies…’ recollections. The worst part is that your classmate doesn’t realise the inner turmoil he throws you in, acting as if nothing happened between the two of you whenever he smiles at you, or comes a little too close into your personal space, whispering jokes lowly into your ear. It’s outrageous how you have to sit there and pretend like everything is okay. 

Eventually comes the time when all of the blank, white Christmas balls you ordered arrive at the door of Class A’s dorm, and no one in the class can contain their enthusiasm when ripping apart the package. Aizawa stands to the side, untroubled so long as the mess is cleaned up. 

The art and craft materials are spread out along the clothed dining table, some glitter has already been spilled, there’s paint everywhere, and Jirou’s playlist pleasantly occupies the space alongside the excited chatter of your classmates. As you converse with Kirishima and Midoriya, often letting them get a glimpse of your artwork whilst enjoying the cookies that Sero baked for this occasion, you realise that everyone’s Christmas ball reflects a little of who they are.

Kirishima’s is red and beautifully glittery despite all the ferocious, strong idioms he’s written on the surface. Midoriya’s resembles the colour of All Might’s hero costume. If you look down the table, Mina’s has pink snowflakes, Aoyama has stars upon stars, and Hagakure’s has little drawings of her friends- their designs were just to name a few. 

Those who finish immediately go to put up their decorations on the Christmas tree. With Bakugou going first and despite the speed that he finished his ball with, you cannot deny that it is intricate and well-crafted. Then, others start to follow him, and somehow, it’s just you and Todoroki left behind to finish up.

“Yours is nice,” he compliments, suddenly materialising in the seat beside you.

“Thank you!” You exclaim. “I’m really trying.”

“I can see.”

Glancing over to his work, you notice that it’s also split in a half-and-half, with white glitter on one side and red on the other. “Yours is really pretty,” you comment, reaching over the table to grab a gold star to put on your ball.

“Thank you. How much longer til you’ll be done?”

“I’m done now! Were you waiting for me?”

“Yeah, I would like to put our decorations on the tree together, is that okay?”

He’s so cute you want to squish his cheeks. As always, you find yourself easily complying with his demands as he leads the way toward the Christmas tree that was already occupied with various Christmas balls and tinsel, topped with a gold star. You take the time to find a good place the last two decorations and despite how full it is, you find places right next each other. 

“We look good beside each other,” Todoroki mindlessly comments and you splutter at his choice of words. Did he have to be that shameless? The clueless boy he act going on only made you more flustered at your own embarrassment.

“Y-Yeah, we do,” you mutter, rubbing your neck. 

Glancing up at the gold star, the corner of your eye catches onto a suspicious red and green thing. A part of your stomach churns in knowing before you can fully process what it is and when you do, a part of you wants to curse Mina for setting this up. She purposefully put it in a place that wasn’t visible from the doorway and would be slightly hidden so unsuspecting victims would fall into her trap.

What do you do? Do you point it out for your own selfish reason or do you avoid telling Todoroki? That’s not very festive of you but you couldn’t find it in you to care about tradition when-

A pair of soft lips meet your forehead, effectively shutting down your brain. 

When Todoroki pulls away, cheeks slightly tinted pink, you are literally frozen to your spot. Pressing the off and on switch multiple times would not work, this time you needed rewiring and a new pair of batteries.

“I- uh, yeah- cool, thanks, uh, for that,” you fumble, letting the lingering touches of your classmate sink into your skin. You were fine, everything is fine, there is nothing to worry about. “Wow, you are beautiful- okay excuse me now, I will be going to my room and I will be staying there for the next three business days.”

Without giving him a chance to respond to your strange reaction, you turn on your feet and mechanically walk away. If you had paid a little more attention to your movements, you would have realised that you were walking same arm and leg, but it didn’t matter much because Todoroki just kissed your forehead and in the same moment, embedded himself into your system.

Then you made a fool out of yourself because you don’t know how to act around Todoroki. 

The paint on your fingers linger mockingly, especially the red and white coating your skin because days later,you’re reminded of how quickly life can change, and similar to that a cruel joke; how quick your life changes because of some stupid plant that people attached a stupid tradition to. 

It’s 6 pm or so and the Class A Christmas party is occurring in less than two hours. With all the decorations hung up and almost all the food ready, you found yourself sitting around the dining table with a bunch of classmates, playing several rounds of card games to kill time. There’s a teapot of steaming tea that Yaomomo made to the side, one that you reach over to occasionally to fill your cup again.

Everyone is laughing at Denki’s misfortune of drawing 16 the third time this round, adding to the unreasonable amount of cards in his hand, laughing even harder when he struggles to hold it all. Although some part of you should feel sympathy for him, there’s just something hilarious about the sight of poor Kaminari always drawing the short stick. You’ll apologise to him after the game.

Although, you don’t think that apology is going to happen, not when Todoroki calls out your name from where he was in the kitchen. Without even asking what he needed, you immediately jolt out of your chair and walk over, leaving your cards behind despite your close Uno win. 

Uno was temporary, whatever Todoroki wanted was forever.

“You called?” You asked upon entering and the first thing that hit you was a delicious aroma that floated around the room. Then, the telltale sound of sizzling follows.

Glancing to the stovetop, there was a pan full of oil and the half-and-half hero stood in front of it, adorning an apron whilst holding an oil strainer. He brightens upon your entrance, fishing out three pieces of what looked like chicken karaage and your mouth waters at the sight alone.

“I did, I would like your opinion,” he informs, reaching over to his plate full of fried chicken whilst you close the distance between you, eyeing his dish curiously. He eagerly gestures it towards you.

Looking at him for his confirmation, you take a piece, blowing on it to cool it down before taking a bite with little hesitation, letting the pleasant mixture of salt and spices mix whilst the enjoying the crunch of the chicken. Wow, this was good.

“This is amazing!” You exclaim, mouth half-full with chicken and fried batter. 

He seems relieved at your approval, and judging by the mess he made on the countertops, you’d say that Todoroki put quite a lot of effort in this dish for it to be bad. “This is my sister’s recipe; I tried my best to replicate it, but I wanted to make something for everyone tonight.”

“I had no idea you could cook! I’m genuinely stunned, I’m sure everyone will love it as well.”

“Thank you,” he offers you a gentle, but heartwarming smile that causes your stomach to flutter and your heart to sigh in content. Your tastebuds are in love too. “You should come over sometime to try the real thing. I’d love for you to meet my sister and brother.”

Your first instinct is to accept, as one does when going over to one’s house, but when you process the weight of his words, your mind erupts into a mash of concerns and delighted squeals. All that comes out of you is a muffled ‘I’d love to’- one of the better responses your mind could make up.

You note the way that his gaze flicker to your lips before quickly venturing back up to make eye contact once more. Suddenly, it’s getting harder to breathe, the atmosphere is heavy with intimate tension, and your heart is racing in anticipation because you’re certain he’s about to say something before-

“Hey guys! Something smells good in here, what’s-” Midoriya’s voice slices the air in half with an entrance that you don’t know whether to be grateful for or if you should strangle him. He then cuts himself off when he realises that he probably interrupted something, looking especially suspicious when his eyes gravitate towards the ceiling. “My bad! Sorry guys! I’ll take my leave now!” He squeaks before disappearing just as quickly as he came in.

“That’s weird, I wonder what he was talking about,” you begin, turning your head to look back at Todoroki before you find the air being sucked out of your lungs, being replaced by a pair of soft lips over your slightly dry ones.

Oh- wait, Todoroki was currently kissing you. This was nice. You feel like you’re floating despite how short-lived it is, because just as you melt into his warmth, he pulls away, hovering away slightly from your face, creating enough distance so he can scan your expression for any discomfort.

But your body moves on its own, causing you to jerk back from the half-and-half, brain racking to find something to say. ‘Thanks for the kiss. It was great but I’m not too sure if that was real or not’ or ‘I’m sorry you had to go through that’ are not appropriate options to say to someone after single-handedly creating the best moment of your life, so you choose an even better option; run.

You scramble out of the kitchen quickly enough, ignoring the surprise of your classmates that you run past at the dining table and trying even harder to ignore the footsteps that follow you from the kitchen to dorm’s entrance. Going outside into the expanse of endless snow and cold was your first option because you needed some remedy for what you were suffering through. Fresh, crisp air would aid the light-headedness you felt, and the frost could freeze the fire that was your face.  

Although you were quick to escape, Todoroki is quicker in his chase, grabbing the door before you could close it, slipping outside into the cold with you before shutting the door close with a little more force than necessary.

“Why do you keep running away from me?” He asks, a hint of hurt in his otherwise steady tone. The only light source is from within the dorm, illuminating him in a deliciously warm glow that replicated that of an angel, making him appear even more out-of-reach than he already was. 

Freaking out, you blurb out a: “Would you like the truth or would you like me to lie?”

In truth, your question was to stall the inevitable conversation you were going to have because you can’t find a way to lie from this. It was either the cold hard truth or… you run from Todoroki again but if there’s one thing to know about the half-and-half is that he’s persistent. Even if you flee from the face of the Earth, he’d venture into the solar system to find his answers.

Todoroki’s dual-coloured eyebrows furrow in confusion, looking at you inquisitively. He must think you’re the biggest fool on Earth- which, you are. “I would like the truth,” he answers slowly but surely.

You unknowingly inhale before confessing. “Please don’t hate me for this, but it’s cause I kinda like you a little too much?” You don’t look at him before continuing because if there’s one thing you aren’t brave against, it’s pretty boys with extraordinary pouts and puppy dog eyes. “This is literally so humiliating, but uh, you kinda like… intimidate me, and I don’t think you actually want to kiss me so I save myself the embarrassment and-” 

“-You like me?” 

“Well, obviously. You’re kinda perfect and it’s so unfair, I’ve never seen you with eyebags, or a single pimple, do you even have bad hair days? Plus you’re so talented and-”

“Perfect, you say?”

“Even the way you speak is per-” you cut yourself off before shifting your gaze upwards to look Todoroki in the eye. There’s mirth in his eyes, enhanced by the slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. You want to throttle him because of course, out of all the things you just confessed, he’d hang on to your admission of his perfection. “Don’t look at me like that, I actually hate you.”

“No you don’t, you like me a little too much,” he parrots.

You were actually going to lock him outside in the snow where little shits belong. Here you stand, pouring your heart out to him and he capitalises on your moment of weakness! Unbelievable.

Just as you turn around, Todoroki tugs on your sleeve, pulling you back. “Wait, don’t go,” he pleads. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist myself from having a little fun messing with you. I don’t mean to be cruel.”

“Well, you are, and I really don’t appreciate it,” you counter jokingly, huffing, watching the way your breath condenses before fading again. Now that the heat from your face had dissipated, the chill was getting to you and you’d really like to get back inside and hide from Todoroki for the rest of your life.

“I apologise sincerely,” his hand fishes through his pocket to look for something, pulling out something that you recognise all too well. “Will this make up for it?”

The half-and-half smiles at you shyly, unravelling the mistletoe he stuffed to become its true, expansive form. A part of you dies inside, the other cheers in victory as he raises it above your heads, the internal whoops and exclamations audible in your ear, but when you realise that there are a little too many voices, it causes you to turn around- only to see your friends gathered around a window, all looking at the two of you in excitement. 

You laugh and Todoroki groans, and in the blink of an eye, a wall of ice materialises in front of your eyes, blocking you from the prying snoops that are your friends.

“It will absolutely make up for it,” you murmur, grabbing both of his cheeks to pull him in.

[eremorte]

thronecoming heritage hall gifts (rewritten)

The Thronecoming heritage hall gifts bug me. Most of them don’t feel like a parent has gifted them. They are so uninspired for the biggest moment in their child’s life.

I’ve listed my replacements below. I’m hoping for the gifts to have a, if had-to-do-it-again-here’s-what-I’d-want vibe.

blondie lockes

OG gift: running shoes

rewritten gift: a new piece of tech that helps her with her mirror cast. A shiny new microphone or even just a cute news reporter accessory that acknowledges her unintended break from destiny (or rather extremely developed hobby/career because her story can be over in like 30 minutes) it also gives off the initial impression that blondie’s story is “just right” the way it is until.. boom! There’s a note.

That mentions that as Goldilocks has reflected on her role and how she regrets hurting the bears the ways she has* and with an extra perceptive daughter like blondie she is sure to find a worthy story (within bounds) that won’t cause baby bear to develop a complex. *insert long list of things here that blondie could comment on in her stead because the story book of legends didn’t write every worthwhile critique of the bear house and the bears despite “forgiving” her won’t let her talk to them about this* and a small comment of how she is super proud about blondie that hopefully eases some of her attention seeking behavior so she’s less of a brat later on.

cerise hood:

OG Gift: picnic basket with an electronic mirror lock.

revised gift: honestly I have no comment. This is a great gift. My only question is how recently the presents are placed in the hall seeing as how that basket spit up a whole bird leg. Maybe it has a special note of the picnic menu they have in celebration once the whole shebang is done.

o hair twins:

OG gift floating hair brushes

rewritten gift given how Rapunzel’s story is that she was locked away her whole life because her bio mom ate a magical plant while pregnant that the witch wasn’t sure of the side effects of and had to lock her away because damn sure bio parents couldn’t do anything if the witch was second guessing herself. What I think should be there are odd bits an bobs function like an Easter egg hunt of a map and post fairytale notes one what they are that Rapunzel is certain her girls can figure out because they have her plant powers (though probably diluted hence the helpful notes incase they have to solve things like their adoptive grandma ).

briar beauty

NOW FOR THE GIRL WHO INSPIRED THIS POST. Her gift makes me so angry. It is the most nothing gift of the whole bunch. You mean to tell me that a hundred year sleep doesn’t come with any regrets at all? Not one thing?

OG gift A neck pillow.

revised gift: A SCRAPBOOK. The first few pages could be filled with pictures of her family. Bonus points if they’re are people Briar wouldn’t have gotten the chance to meet but knows who they are by virtue of her mom. It hits home exactly how big her sacrifice is. Also all the storybook imagery? The intro? Imagine if there was a dark time line where we were being told everything that happen through briar who missed all of it and is trying to piece back something familiar?

either way, mental breakdown and existential crisis guaranteed.

also bonus. It’s totally merchandisable. Half the book mercy was essentially scrapbooks/concept art anyhow.

Cedar wood: revealer rays

it’s a good gift but something she wouldn’t be able to use in her story at all. They are not subtle and most everyone who knows about Cedar knows that Pinocchio didn’t mess up her eyes to the point she’d feasibly need glasses. Revised gift: letters from the blue fairy (well wishes, maybe an helpful hint or two) Gepetto and Pinocchio (things to to try (and not repeat) once she’s no longer wooden and how to lie effectively) I can’t think of a physical possession for Cedar to have. But I feel she’d appreciate these. Maybe a special cricket/donkey whistle?

duchess swan:

no gift shown but what I have in mind is a mix of briar and blondie’s gift.

a collection of letters (written on leaves and paper or something) from both her mom and her bio dad detailing the bitter sweet love in the tragedy to reassure duchess it’s not all bad. And a special pair of dancing shoes for her last night as a human. I imagine this gift would only make duchess mad.

Madeline hatter:

no gift shown and honestly idk what the mad hatter gives his daughter it’s probably perfect. An old hat that looks very normal actually? A crazy new teapot? Who knows?

raven queen:

og gift wand wishing well coin

honestly I want to know the logic behind the wand. Is it a back up battery in case apple thwarts raven through zapping away her powers somehow?

I have multiple suggestions

Something that contains directions to the true SBOL

recipe for the poison apple

something that originally belonged to someone in the Snow White family that she is proud enough to share with her daughter (raven would probably give it back).

*blondie branches out mentions how Goldilocks promised to be a better person.