#OBSESSED with stranger things and so i sat down and just painted this bad boy in one go

[fromedennn]

“Whats your class and level? Level 1 dwarf?”

“My name is Lady Applejack, and I’m a chaotic, good half-elf rogue level 14, and I will sneak behind any monster you throw my way and stab them in the back with my poison-soaked kukri, and I’ll smile as I watch them die a slow, agonizing death. So we gonna do this, or we gonna keep chitchatting like this is your mommy’s book club?”

[bonny-kookoo]

Bunny Boy (JJK x Reader)☁️⚠️🔪(💜)🔞 Part 1

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Angst, Yandere!AU, Stalker!AU, questionable romance, smut, Oneshot

Warnings: (oh boy) Stalking, Obsession, Yandere themes, cute Koo but aggressive, he ready to fight, graphic description of violence, blood, very twisted JK, oblivious! Reader, kinda Stockholm-syndrome Reader?, soft romantic lovemaking, body worship, Dom! Jungkook, Sub! Reader, Handjob (fem. receiving), oral (fem. receiving), protected sex because even with your mind scrambled up in a frying pan we still wrap it before tapping it y’all hear me STDs ain’t cute Susan

Summary: It all started with a hello kitty charm.

A/N:(IMPORTANT) I’d like to note here that I do not condone nor romanticize any of the things depicted in this. This is purely fictional, and only to be seen as a work of art, not as a depiction of real life relationships. For short: if he a creep, kick his balls, don’t kiss. Thank you.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part?

Whenever you slept, he had to think of an angel portrayed in an old painting displayed in a museum he'd seen when he had been a kid, years ago. He remembers its features, flawless and so carefully drawn that it edged on perfection. It couldn't have been however, he knew that much. Because the painting wasn't of you.

The sheets had fallen all over the place during the night- you sometimes moved during your period of unconsciousness he'd noticed, which wasn't unusual for you. It had been more often and severe these days however; probably because of the stress you experienced at work nowadays. It was okay though, he though to himself. He'd taken care of that for you, just so you could finally rest in peace again. Just like he'd decided almost a year ago.

"You lost this, I think.." A voice spoke behind you, as you turned around, eyes looking straight at some american writing on a black t-shirt, then a jean-jacket thrown over, until your eyes raised, spotting a silver chain necklace- not one of those large ones guys wore to impress, but a rather delicate looking one. Your eyes found soft looking lips, the upper one smaller than the lower, slightly parted like a doll frozen in time, before you saw a prominent nose, a slight scar on his cheek, and eyes wide open; a dark chocolate brown, reflecting the artificial lights of the grocery store, shining all around you as they tried to advertise several products to the people browsing the isles. His hair was a bit curly, dark and only mildly styled you assumed. He stood way taller than you did, the main reason you had first made eye contact with his chest rather than his face-

He was handsome.

You stuttered a bit as you looked at the hello kitty charm, a simple one you'd hung on your phonecase, for the aesthetic and sole reason that you liked the cat character a lot. "T-Thanks.." You said, and your voice made his eyes widen even further, before he flashed you a bright smile, bunny like teeth giving him a charm that completely contradicted his entire punk-like attire he wore, combat boots stepping back a bit to give you a bit more space, sensing how his close presence made you feel pressured.

What a nice gesture.

"Jungkook." He said, and you nodded, giving him your name as an exchange.

Unknowing where this would lead.

His phone chimed with the familiar tune of his alarm, making him simply tap away at the screen without breaking eye contact with you. This was his favorite moment of the start of his day.

You moved around a bit more, the screen of your phone bright and annoying, just how you intended it to be. He knew that you were quite the sleepyhead, cherishing your dreams and cozy blankets like no other around him he knew. That's why your phone had an extra obnoxious tune to it to wake you up, screen as bright as possible to drown the entire room in its glow, so you had to move around. Your eyes opened slightly, pout ever so endearingly present on your lips as you sat up, raising your arms to stretch them above, making him swallow his saliva as he saw how your shirt raised up, revealing the soft skin of your belly, and the slight peak of your cotton underwear. He loved how you always put comfort over visual appearance- you didn't need fancy clothing to look absolutely divine in his eyes, after all.

He had to remember his task at hand however, grabbing his phone with a bit of hectic, before he dialed a number, waiting until your screen lit up. You instantly took on the call, not looking at who's calling.

Did you know it was him? Or is were you so careless all the time?

"Goo'mornin' Kookie.." You drawled into your phone, and his entire previous thoughts flew out his window, his eyes closing at the sound of your slightly raspy voice, his nerves instantly soothed at the fact that for another day he'd managed to become the first person you would talk to.

"Good morning angel." He said, voice low and smooth, just how you always told him you liked it. He watched as the corners of your lips turned upwards, a smile only dedicated to him, even if he technically wasn't supposed to see it. It made it the more special to see. "Did you sleep well?" He asked, and you nodded. Silly girl he thought. You noticed your mistake before sleepily giggling to yourself, yawning before answering him verbally. He cooed at you internally. You were so cute.

"Hmhm. Had a bad dream though." You said, and his heart clenched at the way your lips lowered a bit with the remembrance of whatever had happened during your slumber. He wished he could invade your very thoughts, keep even your own demons tormenting your precious time of rest at bay, kill them off with a shot straight to their cores, just to have you safe. "but you were there 'n fought the monsters." You said with a smile, and his eyes widened. Maybe he really was invading your thoughts just like you did with his. Was your connection really already that strong? He watched the clock on the very corner of his laptop, keeping an eye on the time. He didn't want you to be late, after all.

"That's right, I'm always keeping you safe." He hummed, and you sleepily replied with a confirmation of his statement. "Now get ready, or you're gonna be late baby." He said, the nicknames still foreign yet oh so sweet on his tongue whenever he said them. He could finally speak them out loud, finally give them to you regularly, and it had been a firework of emotions ever since. He could never get tired of the way it made you squirm, giving him a teaser of what you could look like underneath him, bare and ready for his taking. Just the thought alone made his pants tighten around him, making him force composure down his throat- at least for the moment. "I know you're still in bed. Go and get dressed, don't make your coworkers wait. Love you angel." He said, and waited for you to say the same words to him again, as a form of farewell and confirmation alike.

"Hmhm, love you too, Kook." You said, and disconnected the call, giving him finally freedom to groan out loud, hands scrambling with his pants, fingers working on the button and fly with desperation as he pulled his half hard length out of his underwear, moving his fingers around as his eyes never left your form on his screen, bare legs softly walking up to your dresser. As you discarded your shirt, leaving you bare, his grasp tightened a bit, air coming out in gasps as you stretched yourself so deliciously like a feline did- your back arching enticingly, breasts on full display for him, before you started to bend down, looking for something to cover them, probably.

His mind started to come up with visions of you, arching your back underneath him like that, speared on his cock, mewling alluringly, delicate hands frantically searching for something to hold onto as he would push himself inside you again and again, your name falling from your lips in a manner he couldn't even imagine yet.

Would your voice raise in pitch? Would you only huff, gasping without a tune? Or were you a screamer?

He didn't know yet, but he knew he was close to making these mere dreams a reality with you. He'd finally managed to show you his love for you after all, finally making you see how you belonged to him and him only- you had finally accepted him and your destiny at his side. When he'd first met you, you were so sweet yet so.. dumb. You didn't notice, didn't feel the connection- but he was patient. He was able to wait, to hint you at it the best he could, to softly lead you into his awaiting arms, to serve you and worship you like the goddess you were. You had started to finally connect the obvious strings of fate to him, kissing his lips in such a shy manner that he still felt his veins buzz from the euphoria he'd felt that day.

The day he got kissed by an angel, by his soulmate, his other missing part.

He spied on you as you worked away, busy like a bee, ever so hardworking he thought. You didn't deserve to work at all in his opinion, your hands too delicate to be endangered by maybe scolding yourself on hot water or coffee that you made every day for absolute strangers or regular costumers; yet you were so happy at your job that he had to be gentle at slowly showing you that this wasn't where you were supposed to be. The amount of people looking at you every day made bile rise in his throat, making him feel like vomiting every time he saw the way you smiled at another man.

It was even with woman, he'd noticed recently. He didn't care much about the elderly, but he could sometimes spot girls your age eyeing you down like you were a rare diamond behind glass, admiring you like they shouldn't be allowed to. He understood them to an extend, he'd admit that much; your visuals were magical, absolutely breathtaking, making him almost sympathize with the people being drawn towards you. Your soul was so soft and gentle that people naturally felt comfortable around you- too comfortable, if anyone would ask Jungkook himself for his opinion on that matter.

Just like right now; the guy you once went to school with as he'd found out after photographing his face and running a google search on him, finding his facebook and other social media accounts on his hunt. He hadn't really tried to stay in contact with you after you both graduated, dating girls left and right like he was a 12-year old collecting pokemon cards, posting disgusting things such as post workout pictures, bathing in attention of strangers who'd never really met him. It was disgusting, really; Jungkook himself had given himself away to others before as well, but his counter was standing at a number easily displayed on one hand. With this guy however, that was way more difficult to portray. He'd collected information on his past affairs as well, after all. He wondered what you would say if you knew he even slept with men in his freetime, selling himself like a whore just for animalistic pleasures and his own satisfaction. He almost felt himself gag at the thought of you possibly falling into this man's trap.

Thank the heavens he'd found you first.

He saw how uncomfortable you felt around that guy however, even your naive self sensing something malicious behind his attention seeking behavior towards you. He'd overheard you telling him multiple times how happy you were with Jungkook, yet the guy simple did not take the hint, speaking over your words as if they didn't hold any significance at all, uncaring of how you hated not being taken seriously by others.

How nauseating.

Jungkook looked at the passenger seat next to him, cold eyes gazing at the silvery tape and plastic bag, his glove clothed hands gripping the steering wheel in determination as he turned his face again, patiently waiting as that demon payed for his coffee, finally leaving the cafe after sending you another look. Jungkook cracked his neck. He had to do it.

He was doing it for you.

You'd understand.

Seoul's nights were mostly starless, due to the amounts of artificial lights blending out the galaxies above everyone's head's. It was quite tragic to him, really, because as he watched the colourfully lit up Bridge blend into the distance behind him as he drove further and further away from the city, the nightsky above him got clearer and clearer, as if the earth was revealing itself with every kilometer he brought between himself and the buzzing citylife.

He'd bring you out to a trip far away one day. Maybe camping, you always told him how you found these things quite romantic- roasting marshmallows over a small fire, stargazing, and sleeping in each others arms to converse heat in stuffy sleeping bags. Oh, he loved this already. He'd work a little overtime at his job to get enough money together so he could maybe even rent a small van. Or would his small car suffice for you? Maybe it was better to use the smaller space of his own vehicle- the less space meaning being closer to you, after all.

As he opened his window a bit, he breathed in the almost icy air from the outside, not much sound heard apart from his car's engine and wheels on the road, monotonous sound making him feel less concentrated than he should be. But he knew these roads, thankfully. Luckily for him the air inside his car was waking him up a little bit, as he turned around a corner, Jungkook clicked his tongue in annoyance as he felt something on the backseat of his car tumble down behind the seats. Hopefully the bag didn't rip. He had a spare one with him though.

He was organized, after all.

It was something that you always praised about him, making his chest feel all warm and fuzzy inside. He loved whenever you told him how handsome he was, how you always felt so appreciated whenever he held the door for you or helped you with simply mundane things. He didn't care about anyone else's comments about him; when you were happy with him, he was happy with himself as well. Your opinion of him mattered most- everyone else's only served as a safety cushion if you will.

He knew you would probably feel a bit upset with the tragedy that befell your former classmate- but he was insignificant. He had no good intentions, he knew that much, and now, he'd ridden the world of such a nuisance, cleansing it from another rotting soul. In a way he felt like he'd done a great job, as if he'd done something important. If ghosts existed, Jungkook hoped that this young man's was thankful for finally being freed of it's miserable existence. Even though he have had all the rights to make him suffer, he'd made it quick and simple, keeping things clean and sharply cut.

Pulling on the parking break in his car, he shut down the engine, before he opened his car door, stepping outside and stretching his arms. He'd definitely pulled a muscle carrying this dudes body into his car- the weight much more heavy than he'd initially thought. But that would pass. Maybe it was his punishment for not acting sooner, not getting things done immediately. His dad had always slapped that part of his neck too whenever he messed things up. He still remembered that to this day.

The memory made him shudder.

Sighing, he opened the door to the backseats, part of the plastic-wrapped body falling a bit out, making Jungkook huff a bit in frustration. He pulled on it, assuming it was his head, letting the weight fall down onto the ground, a low thud and a bit of dust covering his black sweatpants and combat boots.

He'd clean them up at home.

Heaving the body onto his back as to not rip the well made covering, he began to collect rocks nearby, stuffing them into the bag carefully, adding weight as much as he could, while still making it possible for him to shove the body over the banisters placed on the edge of the cliffs before finally securing more tape around the bag to make sure the rocks couldn't simply tumble out and leave their destined place inside. Jungkooks gaze was still cold, icy, as he finished his work with an almost bored expression, finally hefting the heavy weight over the metal bars, before he let it fall with a groan on his side, Neck still hurting. He watched as the body hit the water's surface, white splatters shooting in circle formations around the bullet-like hole in the waves before the darkness swallowed it whole, leaving nothing behind but a few air bubbles.

Jungkook took a deep breath, watching for a moment before turning his gaze to the stars above, clouds slowly shielding the nightsky from his vision as if the heavens above closed their eyes- not looking at his actions.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, making him remove his black glove, unlocking it with his fingerprint skillfully, smile already on his lips. 'I'm gonna be done in half an hour. Do you wanna get some late night Ramen with me and eat it at my place?' you wrote, silly emojis making him imagine the pink hue on your cheeks as you wrote these lines to him.

Now that he thought about it, he was quite hungry.

"Jungkookie, here!" You said, waving at him as he spotted you, bunny grin sent your war as he walked over, immediately pulling you into his open arms, his nose nuzzling your neck as if he needed to claim you like an animal. It tickled you a bit and you giggled, making him chuckle as well as he kissed your cheek, before he took your hand into his, walking you to his car as he looked at the plastic bags in your hand.

"Why did you buy them yourself angel? You could've waited and I could've payed." He whined, and you scoffed a bit, blushing at the way he seemed to be pouty over the fact that he couldn't be all gentlemanly like he always said he wanted to. Having told him how it made you feel so special inside whenever he did these things, he made sure to do them for you as much as possible. He shuddered at the fact that you'd once told him that your ex boyfriend never did these things such as holding the door for you or help you grocery shopping. The same night however you thankfully told him that you were still pure; having never been touched intimately before, a piece of information that had made his pants tighten embarrassingly fast, the simple revelation that you were still untainted and his for the taking making him feel starved. Yet he had controlled himself, not wanting to rush things. You were a bit skittish, easily overwhelmed with things, so he knew not to push anything too fast too far.

Loosing you could be fatal for the both of you, after all.

"Ah, but its fine Kookie." You said, thanking him after he'd opened the car door for you, closing it after you had gotten inside the passenger seat after you with a smile. Jungkook really was a special guy; he seemed to cherish the old ways of courting a girl- something that had made him be seen as a 'softie' in your group of friends, the girls constantly making fun of the way he acted around you. It made you feel more and more upset the more time went by; after all you really loved Jungkook and the way he made you feel. You both were happy- why did they need to make fun of that?

"Angel?" He asked, and you snapped your head towards him, humming an answer and proving to him that you weren't paying any attention. His eyebrows furrowed a bit, and for a split second you thought he was mad, but his voice didn't hold any bad feelings at all- only slight concern. "Is everything okay? If you're tired I can drive you home-" He said, stopping at a red light and using that moment to look at you. You didn't look physically sick to him, yet your face told him how something was bothering you inside. He'd studied your features for longer than he'd like to admit, making it impossible for you to hide anything from him at all. "Or is something troubling you?" He said lowly, his eyes suddenly fogging over with a look you could not quite describe.

It made your spine tingle and your skin shudder, however.

"I just.." You said, trying to figure out what to say concerning this topic. Jungkook was emotionally very easily affected, you knew that; something that made it even more difficult to bring that topic up. You didn't want to hurt his pride or his ego concerning his manliness. "The girls at work they uhm.. they were making fun of you a little bit for being so, you know, soft and sweet to me-" you said, making him raise his brows and open his eyes more, his innocent doe-look returning into his face as he looked forwards to continue driving. You immediately raised your voice a bit, hand instinctively touching the one not on the steering wheel as a form of confirmation for your next words. "But I don't think that at all, I think you're really nice, and strong, and you know, manly and all that.." you said, ears slowly turning red as you noticed how that sounded. Jungkook simply smiled, his eyes reflecting the traffic lights like mirrors.

It made him seem almost ethereal to you.

"So you think I'm hot?" He asked, and you sunk down in your seat, fiddling with your fingers as you nodded, making him giggle a bit, and ruffle your hair playfully, before interlacing his fingers with yours, holding them towards his lips to kiss the back of your hand. "Thank you Angel. So that's what you were worried about? That I'd feel hurt by the words of your friends?" He asked, glancing your way for a split second before looking forward again. He wished he could look both ways at the same time; the short image he'd gotten of your form so shy and adorable sitting right next to him looking like a scene out of a movie he'd never stop watching. You nodded again, and he parked in front of your apartment complex, grinning your way as he turned off the engine. "You're so sweet, angel." He said, while you whined, opening the door to escape his laughter-

While failing to wipe your own smile off of your lips, uncaring on how his car had smelled a bit weird.

You were still so oblivious to everything around you.

When he'd left after your last dinner together, you'd again refused to let him drive you to work. You had a split shift during the week, working in the mornings for a few hours before continuing your shift later that evening. It made him feel uneasy knowing that you had to get out of the house so early, and coming home so late at night- yet you still trusted your own driving skills enough to not let him help you with these things. He knew this was okay, but it didn't make the fact less frustrating for him.

He needed to keep your trust. He needed you to be scared of things. He needed to keep you needing him.

The only way to do that would be to show you what could happen when you didn't trust his judgement enough. He knew that you were just so fast at giving away important things such as trust to others; even to yourself. Yet Jungkook knew that he knew better- he knew best what was the best for you.

Even better than yourself.

He knew it would hurt, but you would understand. In the end, he was only showing you what would happen if you didn’t listen, if you didn’t trust him, didn’t do what he said- he needed you to feel your mistake, needed you to get scarred so you would always remember to stay at his side loyal like a dog, never to leave his sight ever again. He thought about this dream like vision, your hand in his, desperately seeking his attention, as his oil stained hands cut through the proper cables underneath your admittedly old car.

He never liked you driving by yourself anyways.

You were still so innocent, so stupidly oblivious to the dirt underneath everyone’s fingernails around you that it made his blood boil. But that was okay. Angels were naive creatures, he knew that. He would teach you how disgusting the world was to untainted beings like you, and afterwards he would keep you safe, keep your hand in his at all times, so no one could ever touch you again and blemish your skin. No one but him was allowed to corrupt you, to feel you, to have you lay in his arms as he filled you up and became one with your physical form at night.

And also;

Who said that you would ever find out that he was at fault?

"The breaks aren't working Jungkook, what am I supposed to do?!" You sobbed through the speaker of his phone, the one which he held calmly in his hand, his own vehicle parked at the sidelines of a road a bit further down your typical route, waiting. "I can't slow down- I'm so scared Jungkook what should I do-!" You whimpered again, and he closed his eyes for a moment, praying to the heavens above that they would forgive him for hurting one of their most precious fallen doves. But it was for the greater good- they'd understand, he was sure of it.

"Don't worry angel, you're gonna be okay-!" He said acting as if he was hurrying as well, even though he was still sitting peacefully inside his car, watching as the sun slowly turned the skies into twilight shades. Quite beautiful, really. "Can you slow down, somehow?!" He said, his voice cracking a bit as he got into his role, your voice telling him that you couldn't- the only way would be to drive into the woods and maybe try and crash the car. "Angel no, there's gotta be another way-" He sobbed, as he suddenly heard the line go silent.

He sniffled a bit, drying his eyes with the sleeve of his sweater, before he turned on his car, his phone showing the location of yours just a few meters away from him.

And there you were.

You car was a wreck, yet it seemed like it took most of the blow- you had actually taken the wood-option, using the bushes, foliage and brushwood as a form of emergency break before hitting a tree, which had split a bit from the impact, mushing your car against it like a piece of gum onto the underside of a shoe.

He carefully got out of his car, walking up to the drivers side, opening the door with a bit of difficulty- but he'd always loved working out, so in the end, his strength succeeded in opening the bent metal. He immediately caught your falling body, his heart breaking at the small cut over your eye, marks on your bare shoulder from where the seatbelt had pulled on your skin too roughly. Your arm looked like it was swollen, your leg bent in a direction it naturally wasn't supposed to as he pulled you out of the wreck, laying you down onto his lap as he sat down on the grassy ground, softly brushing the hairs away that had formed groups of single hairs stuck together by the blood that was already clogging and turning a bit darker. Oh how his soul hurt seeing you like this.

But this had needed to happen.

And as he called the ambulance with his phone, careful to sound as desperate as possible over the line, he failed to notice how your eyes weren't fully closed.

You were still conscious.

[thatasianstereotype]

Fuck. I’m Gay.

I’ve been reading a lot of ml salt fics lately (mainly @unmaskedagain which is a literal goldmine of saltiness). And getting into the Damienette ship. Marinette really does deserves better (Fuck Canon) but so does Adrien. He is not a “sidekick”. Chat Noir and Ladybug are partners = equals. So I decided why not write a fic where Adrien gets his own happy ending in the form of a grumpy assassin-turned-vigilante that loves animals more than people. 

Somewhat of a crack writing where creative liberties were definitely taken. 

.

.

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Lila Rossi is a bitch and everyone knew it. Well, by everyone, Adrien means himself, his good-amazing-make-pastries-for-him friend Marinette, his maybe-not-really-sure friend Chloe and his-not-that-close-really-classmate Nathaniel. 

Yeah. It was a small number. 

But Lila is still a bitch. 

Anyway, Lila’s lies and manipulations have disturbed the status quo and not in a good way. She ended up making the majority of the class fawn over her like she was a perfect goddess and not a pompous-temperamental-hormonal teenager. Teenagers were prone to be gullible; he can understand his classmates being inclined to believe her. But this was utterly ridiculous (man, Chloe is rubbing off on him). No. You know what’s even more ridiculous? Ms. Bustier letting Lila get away with it. She doesn’t even stop the class mistreating Marinette who claimed she was a bully just because of you know who - Fucking Lila Rossi. The audacity of that bitch and her bitchy followers, am I right? 

Growing up he watched the tv shows and the animes. High schools always had their drama but he thought that was to get some plot going on. He didn’t think it was an actual thing that happens in real life. But he was proven wrong. Françoise Dupont High School had their drama and it was way worse than what he watched on screen. 

The worst part was that he couldn’t get away from Lila. Or he’ll be pulled from school (Fuck you Dad). He had to sit next to that bitch and listen to her drone on and on about things they both knew she didn’t do, about things she promised to do for her ever gullible followers friends. And couldn’t say anything against it if he wanted to stay in school. But even his discreet questioning didn’t do that much. It got some of the class to think something’s possibly fishy with her stories but not enough to think Lila was evil. So he just gave up. Because what was even the point? 

He was distancing himself from Alya and Nino. He couldn’t really be friends with people who thought Lila held the sun and moon. They didn’t hang out as much as they used to and he made excuses when they did invite him to stuff. Lately, he was making outrageous excuses - like he had to take his cat to the vet even though he didn’t have a cat - to see if they caught on. They didn’t. It was fun but he didn’t know whether to feel happy or sad about that. But feeling sad-depressed-pain over it was a bitch so he decided to take his victories as they come. 

Chloe had left the school earlier on. Her mom wanted to spend one-on-one time with her daughter (Yeah, Audrey is better at being a mother here). She was completely out of this drama mess. And Nathaniel kept his head down to not paint a target on himself. 

His only consolation and ally in this whole mess was Marinette. His darling angel. His sunshine incarnate. His own goddess (not like that bitch Lila let’s get one thing straight). 

When he was feeling overwhelmed (which was a lot), he spent it at her house. They spent it discussing fashion, trash talking Liar-la and the sheep class, playing video games, and making/eating the best baked goods in all of Paris. If he wasn’t at his photo shoots or at school, he was at her house. And with how often they spent time with each other, it wasn’t long before they accidentally revealed their alter egos to each other. 

(The class’ Everyday Ladybug was actually Ladybug. How amazing is that! Isn’t Marinette the absolute coolest?!) 

Since they outed themselves to each other, they had to give up their miraculous. And new heroes had to be chosen. As the guardian, Marinette decided to give the Ladybug miraculous to herself and the Cat one to Adrien. And make them the superheros of Paris. 

(Just when he thought that Marinette couldn’t get any cooler) 

They both collectively decided that being friends were for the best and put away their obsession crush over the other far far away. Now they were best friends-almost siblings. Oh who was he kidding? He was an honorary Dupain-Cheng. Marinette and her parents said so. And who was he to deny the goddess? 

All was well. 

Until he met this gorgeous boy with raven black hair and piercing green eyes that made him question everything in life. 

Like fuck. His life wasn’t hard enough already? 

.

It was a slow patrol. Just stopped a few petty crimes. No akuma tonight. He wasn’t really expecting much to happen.

Mari said patrolling regularly gives citizens a sense of security and it helps if one of them were on scene if an akuma does appear. 

He didn’t mind. He loved running on the rooftops and feeling the wind in his face. After some time, he stopped and stood on top of one of the tallest buildings. Just soaking the view. The peace and serenity of it all. Seeing the glowing lights of his beloved city. Seeing the Eiffel Tower standing tall and proud. 

(Forget school. Forget Liar-la and her hoard of bitches) 

This was his city. This was why he fights Hawk Moth with Ladybug. They had something precious to protect. 

He was done patrolling the regular routes and all his schoolwork was already finished. He could go to sleep but he didn’t feel that tired. And he really didn’t want to go back home. Mari shared her theory on his dad being Hawk Moth. She had really good reasons and a plethora of proof. If they could switch miraculous, why couldn’t he and Mayura - most likely Nathalie? Which would explain how Gabriel got akumatized.

After all her support with dealing with Lila, he was way more inclined to believe her even without the evidence. But those things just made him more wary of his dad. And he wasn’t too stoked on spending more time than what he can get away with with the guy. Because his dad being Hawk Moth explains why he wants Lila (his strongest supporter - Chameleon and Oni-chan, anyone?) close and makes Adrien play nice with her. And anyone who enables Lila’s bitchiness is on his enemy list. 

Anyway, he was out here to enjoy the good mood not think about evil bitches and evil dads. So he sat himself down and enjoyed the sights. It was more calming than you would think. 

He heard cars blaring and even a dog barking. The slight breeze felt nice. The moon was pretty bright tonight. The stars too. There was a lone couple walking through the park. There was also another teen in black running on rooftops a few buildings away. 

Wait. 

What? 

He blinked and looked again. Huh, there was another teen in black running on rooftops. And it was not a hallucination. 

What the actual fuck?

He was instantly on his feet, baton already in hand as he raced across the roof to reach said stranger. 

“Hey!” 

But because he was the lucky owner of the unlucky miraculous, the moment he said that, the guy was about to jump off a building to presumably roll onto the next one like Chat was watching him do beforehand. But his call made him lose focus and Chat watched horrified as the guy slipped and started falling into the alley. 

Oh fuck! Mari was going to fucking kill this dumbass kitty!

He hoped to everything that Mari thinks is holy that he makes it in time. Extending his baton, he used it as a huge Pogo stick to basically catapult himself towards the stranger and wrapped his arms around him as he braced himself for the full weight of hitting the gravel at this height and speed. But he wasn’t that that concerned. His suit protected him from the majority of the injuries that would’ve occurred if he wasn’t wearing it. It hurt but it isn’t as bad as it could’ve been. Remember earlier? He takes his victories as they come. 

This was not the smartest of ideas, he’ll admit. Mari had the brains to be honest. But it wasn’t bad if he say so. And he does say so. 

He rolled over and immediately looked over the stranger that was remarkably unharmed in this whole mess. 

And oh.

Oh.

The stranger was taller than he was with a lithe and lean frame. He had raven black hair that complimented his tanned skin and gorgeous green eyes that pierced through him, making his heart do funny things. 

He was not expecting him to look as hot as he did. He wore a simply black t-shirt and jeans but he looked like a fucking Adonis, what the fuck.  Even the moon shone down on him, highlighting his handsome features even more.  

He shook himself of those thoughts and focused on what was more important. “I’m so sorry. Are you alright?” 

He was rudely pushed away, but he didn’t take offense. He did cause the guy to fall after all. 

“Do not touch me.” (What kind of accent is that?) “I’m fine. You are truly a moronic imbecile of the highest accord to yell like that. And what are you even supposed to be? Some kind of knock-off Catwoman?” 

At that, Chat looked at Hot-And-Sexy weird. “Are you new here? I’m the superhero Chat Noir. I protect Paris with Ladybug.”

“You’re joking.”

“I know I come off as the goofy hero because I make purr-fect puns all the time but I’m not joking about this.” 

He took out his phone to show the foreign (since he’s obviously not a Parisian) stranger the akuma attacks and Ladybug and Chat Noir being a dynamic duo, saving Paris and beating Hawk Moth. Ok, he showed the stranger a lot of stuff. Sue him. He gets to brag about his Princess. And himself too.

“I never heard about this before.” Hot-And-Sexy (he has got to come up with a better name) said afterward. “3 years this has been going on? Why didn’t you ask for help from the Justice League or other superheros?” 

Chat shrugged. “We tried. But they said we’re obviously pulling a prank and making this all up. So we stopped asking for help.”

For some reason this made Hot-And-Sexy angry. “They ignored your plea for help and left you to fight for yourselves?”

“Pretty much, yea.” 

“You and Ladybug are children.” 

“Excuse me? Are you doubting our ability to protect our city?" He was not apologetic at the sharp edge his voice took. Forget looking hot. How dare he? The audacity really. 

Hot-And-Sexy shook his head. “I’m not. I know some child superheroes who are adequate at their jobs and a few who are remarkable like Robin in Gotham. But the majority of them had adult mentors to guide them. From what you’ve shown me, you and Ladybug had no one. You were left alone to fend for yourself with essentially no help.” 

He never thought of it that way. But hearing it like that made him think: Fuck Adults Who Chose Children to Fight Their War For Them and Fuck Hawk Moth For Putting Them In This Position In The First Place. 

You know what. Just to clear all his bases - Fuck Everyone But The Dupain-Chengs. 

Chat couldn’t help but shrug, not quite knowing what to say to that. “Life is a bitch, I’ve come to find out. But enough of that. Why were you running on rooftops anyway?”

“It calms me down.”

Relatable. 

“Is...Is your tail moving?” 

“Huh?” He looked behind him to see his tail was indeed moving lazily. “Yeah. I’m called Chat Noir for a reason.”

“May I touch them?” Chat was used to people (usually kids) pulling on his tail to see if it was real (It was). And it really hurts because they usually rough. Not that he blames them. Kids don’t know any better. Still, he usually says no when people ask. 

But Hot-And-Sexy had such a sincere expression that he said yes. To his surprise and delight, Hot-And-Sexy was extremely gentle (Can this guy be anymore perfect?) and it felt nice to be petted like that. Curse his touch-starvation (again Fuck you Dad).

Hot-And-Sexy was apparently fascinated by his ears and tail. 

“Are you a meta?” He noticed how Hot-And-Sexy’s voice turned softer and fonder (or was he imagining that?).

“Nah. I’m fully human. I just got powers to transform into this.” He looked down at his phone seeing that the time was nearing 2 am.

“Have you suffered any injuries from your stupid stunt?” 

“Hmm?” Chat looked back at him before gesturing to his body. “Don’t worry. I may not look like it but I can take it.”

He can practically feel Hot-And-Sexy rolling his eyes. “What an utter dolt.” 

But there wasn’t any heat behind it so he didn’t take it to heart. 

“Thanks, babe.” 

“That was an insult.”

“And I’m taking it like a compliment.”

Chat stood up and stretched his limbs. Hot-And-Sexy doing the same but dusting off his clothes instead.

“So, uh, need any help getting home?”

“I am perfectly capable of finding my own way, thanks.” 

“Ok. Have a nice night.” He was about to leave when he was caught off guard by Hot-And-Sexy staring at him for a good few seconds, making his limbs freeze in place at the heavy attention.

Before he said. “You should try contacting the Batfamily in Gotham about Hawk Moth. They’re used to dealing with weird things. I’m sure they won’t turn you or Ladybug away.” 

Chat was a bit distracted by how intensely those green eyes focused on him, making his heart beat faster and his cheeks turn a vibrant red. 

He was so screwed. 

He used his baton to shoot himself up so he can run on rooftops, hurrying to the Dupain-Cheng bakery. 

.

“Mari! I think I’m gay!”

“It’s 2 in the morning, Chaton. Go to sleep and we’ll talk about it in the morning.” 

.

After a good night’s rest (and thank everything that was right in the world that today was a weekend), Adrien told Mari all about Hot-And-Sexy. And yes, he did call the stranger that out loud. His everything-that-actually-matters sister simply took it in stride after giggling a bit. They spent the majority of the day discussing emotions and everything that came with that bundle. 

Before he finally came to a conclusion. 

He is definitely gay (He liked girls but not like like them). And most definitely had a crush on Hot-And-Sexy with the pretty green eyes. 

Good news: He is no longer having a sexuality crisis. 

Bad news: He is going through an emotional crisis. 

Like dealing with these feelings that is making his stomach flip flop over and over again? The only one he ever had to deal with was the one he had on Ladybug and that (he talked with Mari about it months before. She was amazing with these emotional matters) was more of a hero-worship crush than anything really romantic. 

And his crush on Hot-And-Sexy was so much more. 

.

So it’s been about 2 weeks since he encountered Hot-And-Sexy. And he still haven’t figured out what else to call him. But the nickname was growing on him. 

(He also told Mari about asking the Batfam for help but she was a bit apprehensive after the disastrous attempts of convincing the Justice League. He shrugged, trusting her opinion and left it at that) 

Anyway, Lila was being her usual bitchy self. Father was being non-existent like always. Mari was his only source of sanity at school. And Hawk Moth was being a bitch. 

Because of course, the day before they have a huge test, he decides to akumatize someone (in this case, a businessman who was really unhappy with getting fired) and cut in on study time. And this akuma took a while to defeat. Guess he drew a lot of strength from his burning hatred of the failings of the corporate world. 

And just yesterday, a teenager who was upset at being grounded got akumatized and terrorized the city for 3 hours before Ladybug could purify her. It did however confirmed her fears. Hawk Moth was getting stronger. It took longer to defeat his monsters. They needed to find him and ended this fast. 

Adrien landed on Mari’s balcony and slipped in her room, crashing on her big comfy bed, de-transforming on the spot. Plagg sleepily floating and laying next to him on the pillow. He was so tired. And photo shoots and school drama were not helping things.

.

For the record, he was not at all expecting to see Hot-And-Sexy in a bookstore of all places. 

He was so engrossed in looking through the latest Boku no Hero Academia manga (can’t wait until Season 5 comes out) that when someone touched his shoulder, he was not proud to admit he squeaked a bit.

He turned around and his eyes widened his surprise. 

“Hot-And-Sexy!” 

It was indeed the Adonis Adrien had a huge crush on. Today he was wearing a white t-shirt paired with a blue denim jacket and black ripped jeans. Wow. He really can make anything look hot.

No. Bad Adrien. Don’t let him know you actually have a crush on him.

And oh fuck. Hot-And-Sexy was staring at the blonde and Adrien tried not to let himself get flustered. He has a very intense stare. For all he knew, Hot-And-Sexy stares at everyone like that.

Calm the fuck down, heart. You too brain.

He raised a handsome eyebrow in amusement. “Excuse me?”

Adrien felt himself burn with embarrassment, his face turning bright scarlet. No wonder he was fit for the unlucky miraculous or was this just a side-effect? Note to self, ask Mari about this later. 

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t get your name last time. And I just started calling you that in my head. Cause you’re really hot and you have pretty eyes.”

Fuck mouth! Why won’t you stop talking! Please for the love of everything that makes Mari a BAMF stop. Stop digging further into the hole of embarrassment! Abort mission! Abort!

“When did we meet?”

At that, he blink a few times. Oh fuck. He was not Superhero Chat Noir. He was Civilian Adrien Agreste. Mari was definitely murdering his dumbass tonight. Lightning please strike him down right now. Where was an unlucky lightning strike when you need it?

After a few seconds of his horrified silence, Hot-And-Sexy chuckled (he had such a nice laugh). “You are extremely lucky I already figured out your alter ego beforehand, Chaton.”

Before Adrien could even unwrap that statement, he held out a hand and had a dangerously sexy smirk on his face. “My name is Damian Wayne. Would you care to get a cup of coffee with me?”

And Adrien nodded his head, not trusting himself to speak. He can deal with the superhero thing later when he can think straight (hah!) and is not distracted by Damian’s beautiful smile and alluring green eyes and perfect everything.

.

Guess what?

Ya Boi got game.

(At least, he likes to think he does)

After a successful coffee date (was it a date? Please let it be a date), they exchanged numbers (cue internal squealing) and met up a few times afterward to hang out.

Apparently, Dami was here on business to deal with something for Wayne Enterprises.

“Aren’t you 17?”

“Father believes in preparing us when we’re young.”

Dami was amazingly sweet. Arrogant and pretentious with a stick up his ass but sweet. He treats stray animals with such reverence that Adrien’s heart melt every time he sees it.

It was an added bonus when Damian scorned Lila with cruel words and disgusted looks when she tried to cut in Adrien and Dami’s date(?)/meetup(?)/spending-time-together event.

She cried and whined afterwards and Adrien has to endure his father’s lecture. But it was totally worth it.

Oh yeah. Mari was not pleased that he accidentally outed himself to a civilian. But nothing that a couple of sad kitty eyes can’t fix.

“You are so lucky you’re cute, kitty-cat.” Mari grumbled but she was smiling. “I just need to have a good talk with him on the importance of secrecy.”

.

That day Damian Wayne learned to fear a certain Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

.

It was 2 weeks later when Adrien woke up to a package next to his futon in Mari’s room. When he opened it, he saw the Butterfly and Peacock miraculous inside.

There was a card beneath it. And in beautiful cursive script read: 

I dearly hope you enjoy my courting gift, mon amour. Allow me the honor to formally ask you out on a date. I look forward to hearing favorably from you soon.

- Damian Wayne

He couldn’t believe it.

“Mari! Damian likes me back!”

“Chaton, I swear. It is 2 in the morning.”

Next

[khaleesiofalicante]

HI, IT'S ME! YOUR LOCAL CHAOTIC WEIRDO!!!!! I'M BACK AGAIN LIKE I AM TWICE EVERY WEEK

IT'S MY BOY DAVID THIS TIME! WHY AM I SO HYPER! MAYBE BECAUSE THEY KISSED! AND I HAD TO SUPPRESS MY SCREAMS BCAUSE IM IN CLASS AND THE REST OF MY FAMILY IS OUTSIDE MY DOOR (NOT LITERALLY OFC)

OK OK OK OK OK OK

MAX AND DAVID ARE AT THE LONDON INSTITUTE YESYESYESYES

He rather liked that part in a story – when the hero fell, and everything seemed bleak. It always meant that hope was just around the corner. Because darkness never lasted. It was always followed by light. There was nothing more beautiful than that kind of sunrise.

THIS

I literally live my life by this analogy

AHHH DAVID IS ON HIS TRAVEL YEAR AND MAX IS WITH HIM

SCREAM

well i can't scream because my mom is sitting right there and I have class in 4 minutes so imma smile really wide

“Are you planning to read the entire library during your travel year?” Max chuckled.

“Of course not,” David replied. “I will need longer than a year to accomplish that goal.”

Me.

Wait

does max not being able to make portals have something to do with his lineage?

like

demon parent

ok so my programming class started 2 minutes early but screw programming I'm gonna be studying minds not this shit

ok that's a very bad attitude for someone who needs good grades in this year

Max was always hungry.

this is so me

KIT

KIT

KIT

KIT

KIT

KIT

TY

THEY MENTIONED TY

also if David doesn't become an institute head in the future THEN WHAT'S THE POINT

“Where is the kitchen?” Max interrupted.

max is such a mood

He had told Max that he had centuries to perfect his magic, that there was no need to rush it. Max had given him a noncommittal nod and nothing more.

HE'S GONNA MAKE THE BEST PORTALS YOU'LL SEE

“I won’t tell the Consul,” Kit winked.

At the mention of the Consul, David straightened up. He had been trying to get into Alec Lightwood’s good graces for years now. He didn’t think sharing a room with his son would do him any favors.

DAVID UDUCDFUHKDUHVUHSDH

PLEASE IF WE DON'T GET A CUTE ALEC AND DAVID SCENE SOON

KIT CALLED TESSA MOM

oh my god

Word was that Mr. Herondale had gone back to his obsession with brewing tea.

JACE

I have so many emotions right now but all I'm gonna say is that I'm so so proud of Rafael

“Do you not want to sleep with me?” Max asked.

UH-

WELL-

DAVID STOP THINKING ABOUT THE FUTURE AND ALL THE SHIT

STOP IT

OH MY GOD THE ONE BED TROPE

MAX IS IN HIS ARMS I'M ABOUT TO-

takes a deep breath don't scream. everyone outside this door thinks you're taking programming class

OH FOR FUCK'S SAKE JUST GET TOGETHER ALREADY

AWW JULIAN PAINTED PORTRAITS FOR THE INSTITUTE

The one of Will Herondale and Tessa Gray – A love that had transcended reality and lasted a lifetime.

The one of James Herondale and Cordelia Carstairs – A love that had started with a lie and then blossomed into nothing but happiness and devotion.

The one of Lucie Herondale and Jesse Blackthorn – A love that had been so powerful that it rewrote the past.

The one of Jace Herondale and Clary Fairchild – A love that had walked through hell and shaken up the heavens.

And then there the final one. The one of Kit Herondale and Tiberius Blackthorn – A love that had survived distance and darkness and doom.

This omg...

He wanted a love story. The kind he read in the books. The kind he saw in these portraits.

But he wasn’t a Herondale. He wasn’t sure if he was destined for that kind of love.

HEY

DON'T THINK LIKE THAT

The first part though

same

He might have been a little too excited. It was biologically impossible to control yourself when you find a stranger reading your favorite book in the whole world.

SO TRUE

“I see you already made a new friend,” Max said.

He sounded a little…odd. As if he was not pleased that David had made a new friend.

honey...

take a guess

can I jump in and bash their heads together?

“You are thinking of conjuring chocolate syrup, aren’t you?” David chuckled.

“How do you always know what’s on my mind?” Max chuckled back.

Because I know you, David wanted to say. I just wish I knew what’s in your heart too.

OH MY GOD I CANT WITH THIS

“You get chocolate syrup! You get chocolate syrup! You get chocolate syrup!” Max was yelling, standing on the chair.

They residents laughed harder, and David shook his head fondly. He hoped one day Max would pursue a career in theatre. He was a born showman.

can I have chocolate syrup?

also, the way David is just so fond of him like DYUSDGYJCDYUJM

“By the angel, do you have to be a drama queen about everything?” the boy next to them muttered – not so quietly.

David blinked. That was uncalled for.

But Max being Max was completely unfazed. “Of course I do. My Bapa would be personally offended otherwise.”

exactly you rude little shit

Max often pretended like people’s words didn’t hurt him - just as he pretend that fire doesn’t burn or wounds don’t bleed.

wow ok stop calling me out

Is max jealous??????

is he??????

how are people so good at languages like damn

TY

TY

TY

TY

“Oh my god,” Max groaned. “Is he already telling people to check on me?”

LMAO

using mundane medicine...

that's risky

but it's also something that WILL help

can't warlocks tamper with the blood samples?

A part of him wondered if that’s why he had agreed to send Max away to London – at least for a week. Because sometimes you didn’t want other people to see you were hurting.

alec I really goddamn hope you're dealing with this well

some of whom had even decided to die than get help from a warlock.

alright then gets my knives but you chose this :D

Nobody brought a book down for breakfast if they didn't like to read.

yes but sometimes also to seem busy so people won't bother you or you won't look alone.

“I know,” the boy said as he walked past them to the gate. “I sat on the stairs and thought about life for a few good minutes.”

his family is the one who took over David's previous institute (i can't spell that. marse- marselli- wat??) methinks.

The gang always visited whenever all of them were in the city together. They would have so much fun! Of course, the 'fun' mostly entailed Rafael stopping Georgia from drinking random potions she found in the stalls, Selena stopping Lexi from opening a psychic booth to help people talk to Raziel and of course David stopping Max from running to the gambling booths.

LMAO, I CANT WITH THIS-

Rafe: I am anxiety.

me at any given moment

EW TESTICLES HE'S EATING THOSE-

ok maybe I'm the only person who's really picky when it comes to food and doesn't eat the majority of things

“Anything on Magnus Bane?” Max asked.

“No,” the woman snapped and shoved some of the letters into a bag and hide it under the table. “Leave Magnus Bane alone!”

“Appreciate your loyalty,” Max winked at her and started examining a diary.

I like her.

"Everyone should be participating in this" -my programming teacher

me, an intellectual: participating in what?? goes to the class web THE FUCK IS THAT

“Something for the shadowhunter?” the woman smiled. “Perhaps an unpublished snippet from the Beautiful Cordelia?”

“Do you have any love letters?” David asked.

“Hmmm,” the woman went through the pages. “I do have a correspondence between an Iblis demon and Christopher Lightwood? Would you be interested in that?”

if u don't mind I would love to see both of those-

you know I just remembered I have a computer assignment I need to submit by the end of this week fml

“Never fall in love with an immortal,” she giggled again. “We don’t like staying in one place.”

SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP

MAX WHERE ARE YOU

why are we using x and 3 in programming class what the heck is going on

“I’m not just some warlock,” Max said, his voice low. “I’m Magnus Bane’s son.”

GIVE HIM THAT NECKLACE BACK

we usually have programming once a week on our physical school days and those are fun because my and my friend are continuously passing notes and talking to each other through writing

The scene where Max fought off all the evil people who tried to steal his valuable belonging. He would fight without breaking a sweat and throw magic fireballs at everyone and then get his necklace back. And then he would kiss David in front of everyone and it would somehow rain all of a sudden.

But life wasn’t a movie or a book. Life was just life.

life's boring

fuck life

I just heard a student ask "why are we not taking out the values of b and c" BESTIE I THOUGHT WE WERE DOING PROGRAMMING AND NOT ALGEBRA?????

“I know there wasn’t anyone to protect you before,” Magnus Bane had said. “But we are here now. We will protect you. This will protect you.”

He hadn’t wanted it back then. He didn't even want it even now.

He didn’t want something to protect him. Most importantly, he didn’t want to cover his scar. He didn’t want to hide it. He wasn’t ashamed of it. It wasn’t a mark of a victim. It was the mark of a survivor.

So, David had smiled and given the bracelet back.

“I never wanted to be protected,” David had replied. “I only ever wanted to be loved.”

The warlock had smiled at that and given David a hug. It had felt different than other hugs he had experienced since he had come to New York.

It wasn’t just the magic. Magnus Bane carried so much love inside himself you could literally feel it through him.

I'm gonna cry during my programming class (where we're doing variables apparently all of a sudden??)

this is so beautiful

“I wasn’t talking about Bapa,” Max said now. “I was talking about the other one.”

David chuckled at that. “Oh, yeah. He is definitely going to kill you.”

what flowers would you like at your funeral?

so Jackson has family troubles

I've definitely got that

yeah I know what it's like to be jealous of someone else's perfect family

JACKSON WTF

Is he trying to ruin max's relationship with his family???

oh hell no

JACKSON THE AUDACITY

“One stolen necklace, One broken nose and One bruised cheek,” he said. “And you’ve been in London for less than a day.”

kit seriously? but is he wrong though?

“This is what I get for falling for a Lightwood-Bane,” David sighed and walked through the portal.

WELL AT LEAST HE'S SELF AWARE

Jackson...

in some ways, I can empathize with him. my younger self anyway. but Jackson this is not how you do things

There was a moment of silence and then Magnus Bane giggled.

“I do love it when the quiet ones go feral,” the warlock grinned.

MAGNUS

NOT.THE.TIME

(me too)

“David!” Mr Herondale gasped. “Is your hand okay?”

yup that's Jace y'all

David hated violence. He hated fighting – which he was often not allowed to say out loud considering he was a shadowhunter.

But it was the truth. He hated hurting people – or even things. It made him feel sick.

“It’s alright, Chouchou,” Mr Herondale ran a hand through David’s hair. “Next time, just-”

“Use my words?” David asked.

“Just don’t get caught,” the man winked.

and that is why I would never want to be a shadowhunter.

I know saying that doesn't do anything but when I first read tsc I wanted to be a shadowhunter really badly and damn that was some time ago but now...violence of any kind is my biggest trigger idek why. and I hate that so much because what kind of a person gets triggered by loud voices and fighting EVEN ON SCREEN??? I usually just push myself to watch stuff because it's dumb. I refuse to see trigger warnings before reading a book or watching a show because damn it, I should be able to stand those things I'm, not a child. and it may be doing me more harm than good but I shouldn't feel like this in the first place

okay...that was long

ANYWAY

“David, I appreciate you standing up for Max,” the Consul said. “But next time, please try not to punch anyone in the face.”

“Yes, sir,” David nodded. “Because it’s wrong.”

“Because it means more paperwork for me,” the Consul groaned and then straightened up. “But yes. Absolutely. Very wrong. No punching people!”

LMAO ALEC

Jackson...

oh

oh

oh

I was wrong then

He was grinning. Magnus Bane must have raised hell in the shadow market.

that must have been fun

Max was doing that thing where he was not trying to pout but he was mostly definitely pouting. It made David want to kiss him. But then the Consul spoke, and David reminded himself he didn’t want to be the third person to get punched in the face this evening.

well-

“I understand that Jackson has been through a lot. But that’s not an excuse for him to hurt those around him. I learned that lesson the hard way. So, you shouldn’t excuse his behaviour.”

someone's trauma and pain is never an excuse to hurt others

but that doesn't mean we should invalidate their trauma either

“You can stay back and try to help him. I won’t stop you,” the man got up now. “But if he tries to hurt you-”

“You will unleash hell?” David chuckled.

“Worse,” the other man grinned. “I will unleash Lexi.”

that is much much worse

Books brought him comfort in so many ways. Just holding one in his hands automatically made him feel better.

oh my god

he gets it

I always have a book with me when I'm out even if I'm not gonna get the time to read it because just the weight and comfort of it in my hands or in my backpack brings me so much comfort and helps with my social anxiety so much

no one understands when I try to tell them that

you get it...

someone gets it finally

AYYY IRENE

“David, it’s very sweet that you want to protect Jackson,” Kit pointed out. “But literally no one is buying that. Not even Irene.”

The lynx purred on his lap as if she agreed with Kit.

“I could break into a liquor cabinet,” David said a little indignantly.

David is the nicest you can get

David wouldn’t. Apparently, everyone already seemed to know that - even the lynx he had met five minutes ago.

we are solving something in class and it's really quiet because we're all doing our work (I'm reading the fic so-) and this one person had their mic open and they kept on whispering their steps and it was so weird I cant-

BUT YES DAVID IS A CINNAMON ROLL. EVEN THE LYNX KNOWS

“We were talking about shitty fathers,” Jackson pointed out. “You’re welcome to stay.”

“I’m gonna need something stronger than red wine for this conversation,” Kit chuckled.

I remember that bitch

David used to do it when he was a child. He used to pretend his life was a story. He used to pretend everything that happened to him was happening to some other boy – a boy who wasn’t real. A boy who lived inside a book. Because it hurt a little less when you pretend like it wasn’t happening to you.

But the pain was still very real.

OK YOU CAN STOP CALLING ME OUT NOW

“I fucking hate ogres,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Was your father an ogre too?” Jackson asked.

“He was more like a harpy,” Kit snorted. “He was always flying and fleeing. I didn’t know how deep his talons were in my head until it was too late.”

you really like traumatizing all your characters, don't you?

I really fucking hope the ogre got what he deserved

and if the angel is dead then fuck everyone

“I mean, there was that time when Sebastian Morgenstern turned my father into the endarkened, and then he went around killing people. So, I would say he was more like a zombie,” the man was explaining now. “The zombie father tried to kill me but my brother killed him first.”

“Good lord!” Jackson said in shock.

Kit chuckled softly. “Boy do shadowhunters need therapy.”

they really do

He knew about those from New York. He knew Mr Herondale and Miss Fairchild went for one together.

YES GET THEM THERAPY

“Yikes,” Kit chuckled. “I’d prefer something classier. How about London Boys?”

“None of us are from London though,” Tiberius pointed out.

“The Beatles are not actually beetles, Ty,” Kit chuckled. “It’s just for pizazz.”

damn guys

Then the idea of a band turned into a possible YouTube channel where they would react to cute animal videos.

YS DO IT

“When people do awful things, really awful things, at one point we stop being surprised. Like what Valentine did to his children or what our fathers did to us or what those women did to Rafael. We might have been shocked or disgusted. But it wasn’t unrealistic, was it?”

“I guess not,” the boy said.

“Even when they did the most unimaginable acts of cruelty, it somehow managed to fit into our imagination. We accepted that the world can be unrealistically cruel. The kind of cruelty we will never understand. But why isn’t it the same for kindness? Why is that when someone is too kind, we automatically feel uncomfortable? We judge their intensions or think they are just pretending to be nice. We think they are being unrealistic. Why is that?”

we get so used to cruelty that kindness feels weird

“But that’s how our life works, doesn’t it? It’s a giant ball of what ifs and could have beens and if nots. What if my father had loved me instead of hurt me? Could I have been kinder if I was hugged instead of being abused? Would have I been a different person if not for my trauma? Our lives are an endless collection of theories about our real selves. The one didn’t we never had the chance to become.”

THIS

I used to spend a bunch of time on the what-ifs but those are useless. so screw the what-ifs and live in the present

“I guess we’ll never know, Jackson. None of us will never know how we would have turned out if things had been different for us. We never got the chance to be who were meant to be. Instead, we became who we had to become to survive what we went through. We will never know our true selves. We only know the version of us that made it through all the trauma.”

“Christ, that’s depressing,” Jackson said.

“It is,” David nodded. “But we made it through. We survived. I think we should focus on that.”

you survived. that's what matters

“There is nothing wrong with wanting to be rescued,” David smiled.

I wish I had heard this before...

maybe I don't always have to be strong. maybe it's ok sometimes just want to be saved.

I'm so happy that both Jackson and David found each other

David had learned Gaelic. Jackson had learned how to play the piano.

They had laughed and lived and loved and learned.

And they had survived – one day at a time. The London Boys.

they survived.

I know I'm always key smashing and screaming but these words, these lines, all these chapters mean so so much to me.

“You’ll write to me, won’t you?” David asked, hugging Jackson closely.

“No,” Jackson replied. “I will FaceTime you like a normal person, you weirdo!”

David laughed at that. “I prefer letters. They are more emotional.”

“I’ll text you,” Jackson countered. “With emojis.”

oh to have someone write me letters.

I love writing letters

once at the end of a school year, I wrote little letters to everyone in my class anonymously. even the people who had been mean to me. that was like 1-2 years after my transfer to that school and everyone practically hated me but I wanted to do something nice because who knows what someone is going through. I ended up not putting them in people's desks...

I threw them all away :)

but writing letters is superior

I often write my feelings down and give the letter to someone rather than talk to someone

if you receive a letter from me or a custom-made gift...you have reached my ultimate friendship

oh my god. THIS IS HOW I SHOULD TALK TO ONE OF MY FRIENDS ABOUT MY FEELINGS

It's kind of been a mess between us and I want to talk to her but I didn't know how to.

this is why i shouldn't send asks-

JACKSON CATCHING UP ON MAX AND DAVID

“You know what it means,” Jackson grinned harder. “Also, if that wanker tries to break your heart, I will break his face.”

“You know he is the Consul’s son?” David giggled.

“I’ve done it once and I will do it again,” Jackson shrugged. “He better treat you right.”

"wanker"

I HAVE A BRITISH ONLINE FRIEND AND THEY CALLED OUR AMERICAN ONLINE FRIEND A WANKER

AND OUR OTHER BRITISH FRIEND JOINED IN

WHILE ALL THE NON-BRITISH PEOPLE WERE LIKE "huh"

Lexi had cut her hair even shorter. Her girlfriend apparently got something called an undercut.

“Just in case someone dared to assume we were straight,” she had winked at him.

how many years has this fake dating been going on...

CENTURION SELENA

fterA the twins went to bed, David stepped out of the institute and went looking for his heart.

"went looking for his heart"

OH FUCK I FORGOT TO JOIN MY CLASS

MAX STOP DEPLETING YOUR SELF GODDAMN

And then somewhere along the way, Max’s heartbeat had become the steadiest thing in David’s life.

Max, with all his chaos and drama and danger, had become the steadiest thing in David’s life.

oh my god that's a parallel from canon

“Tell me why.”

“Ain't nothing but a heart break!!"

Max-

Max could make fireballs that killed demons on the spot. He could summon things from anywhere. He could heal people with his eyes closed. He was one of the youngest warlocks allowed to visit the spiral labyrinth.

Max was a warlock in every sense. A good one. A great one even.

he is so talented...

Only idiots would underestimate Magnus Bane’s power.

EXACTLY

He is probably going to be Consul like next week.”

David chuckled. “Next week?”

next week????

“Yeah, his smoking habits,” Max rolled his eyes.

Rafael wasn’t the smoker in the family. He knew who it was, but David would never open his mouth. It wasn’t his secret to tell.

this keeps on getting better

“It’s my hair!” David laughed.

“And you’re my David!” Max argued. “I say you are not allowed to grow your hair.”

MY DAVID

MY DAVID

MY DAVID

“I don’t want to downworld-splain it to you.”

Max blinked and then laughed. “You don’t want to what?”

“Downworld-splain,” David mumbled. “It’s when shadowhunters explain downworlders how to be downworlders.”

they were SO close to kissing

I'm gonna get in there and lock them in a closet together and tell them to FUCKING GET WITH IT

Remember who you are. Remember where you stand.

remember who you are. remember where you stand...

I know this is supposed to be about portals.

OH MY GOD THEY KISSED

THEY KISSED

IM SO CLOSE TO SCREAMING CLASS AND EVERYONE OUTSIDE THIS ROOM BE DAMNED

OH MY GOD DAVID FELL

reminds me of when alec fell down the stairs-

OH MY GOD I'M GONNA SCREAM

WE'RE GONNA GET MORE MAVID CONTENT SOON I'M SCREAMING INTERNALLY UYDRVFY7VSDU7UYVFSDUYGCADUYIGJCDSHJKGDVCSUGISDVHVF

ok, I have a computer assignment to get to and tests to study for. BUT I LOVED THIS CHAPTER SO SO MUCH!! THEY FINALLY KISSED I'M SO HAPPY!!!!!

Also I know I tend to go off track and you can totally ignore that. i just go crazy. BYEE

This live blog gives me so much life you don't even know. I am go glad you enjoyed the chapter. I love hearing you rant about it. It's refreshing lol.

And I looooooove the lil anecdotes you share in between. Also wtf is a programming class like nobody wants to learn programme what kind of hetero nonsense I-

FINISH YOUR ASSIGNMENTS AND STUDY FOR YOUR TESTS I'LL SEE YOU SOON :)

[sincerelybubbles]

lanterns || kenma kozume

So, as I have been wanting to write Haikyuu for a while and didn’t have any idea of what to write, I went to a prompt generator and wrote the first thing that popped up:

“Their eyes met. Suddenly, they were alone in the crowd.”

Kenma x fem!reader

WC: 4k

Summary: soulmate au with kenma :)) the rest is in the prompt!

Warnings: fluff, short description of a panic attack, minor cursing 

//part two

_____________________

You were sure that your friends were going to be the death of you. Of all the ways you wanted to spend today, this was not one of them. The crowd around you was suffocating and the candy floss in your hand was sticky, the loud sounds of the festival surrounding you.

“Come on! I want to try this one!” Your friend sent you a huge smile before grabbing your wrist and dragging you to yet another game that would inevitably be impossible to win, causing her to mope for a few minutes before she found another booth she wanted to try, or more sweets she wanted to eat.

The game was a simple fishing game where you held a fishing-rod-like object with a magnet attached to it, and you had to attempt to fish out rubber ducks from the ponds. The bottom of the ducks had numbers on them corresponding with prizes lining the booths walls. Considering that it was early evening and no prizes seemed to be missing from the wall, you were pretty sure the magnets in the ducks were too weak to actually pull the ducks out of the water, but you still watched your friend and attempted to be encouraging.

She attempted three times to get a duck, before sighing and handing the pole over to you. “You try!”

You hesitantly accepted the pole and started to search for one of the smaller ducks – a smaller prize, but a better probability of actually getting the duck if your guesses from earlier were correct.

Surely enough, it only took you a few moments to grab the small duck and win a plastic cat mask from the wall, causing your friend to squeal excitedly.

“Here.” You handed it to her, but she only laughed and waved you off, telling you that since you earned it, it was yours.

You followed her around for a bit longer before she got a call. You tried not to listen as she talked, instead reading a sign advertising a fortune teller who would describe your soulmate to you in vivid detail, if you only showed her your soulmate marking.

Your soulmate marking wasn’t something you often considered. About ninety-eight percent of the population had some sort of marking or tell of some sort to help them find “the one” – red strings that attached their fingers together, count downs on their wrists, first words somewhere on their bodies, or, like you, and small tattoo somewhere on them that was uniquely matched in image and placing on your ‘other half.’

You were excited to meet your soulmate, sure, but you never let it become an obsession for you after watching many of your peers become consumed by an event that they had no control over.

Plus, there were many cases of soulmates separating, never meeting, or even just becoming close friends. The markings really only told you that the universe thought you were compatible with the other person.

You rubbed your left wrist as you watched the sign with bored eyes, contemplating what this person would be able to tell from the small blue bear on your wrist. Surely, she couldn’t tell much about them other then the fact that they also had this exact same tattoo.

“Hey, my brother tripped and sprained his ankle, so I have to walk him home. I’ll be back in like thirty minutes, I promise! Meet me at the Taiyaki booth we saw earlier, okay? Thanks!” She was gone before you were even able to suggest just seeing her at school on Monday, leaving you no choice but to wander around alone, not wanting to just ditch her with nothing but a text explaining your absence.

“Excuse me?” There was a soft tug at your sleeve, and you looked down to see a small girl looking up at you with a wide smile. Behind her was obviously her mother, giving the little girl an encouraging look and you a meek smile. “I made a whole lotta flower crowns to pass out today and – and, I think that this,” she fumbled with the flower crowns looped around her small arms for a moment before pulling out an intricate yet subtle crown and thrusting it into your hands, “this one! This one will look really pretty on you.”

Not wanting to be ruse, you took the crown and gave her a short bow, “Thank you.” You told her, sending her and her mother small smiles before placing it on your head, earning a delighted gasp and clap from the little girl.

Her mother then thanked you and took her daughters hand, leading her away while the little girl stayed turned around to wave at you.

Not knowing what else to do, you started to wander the streets of the festival, stopping at a few booths to look at anything that caught your eye.

After you bought something small for yourself, you were unsure what else to do with your time. Your friend had texted you that she would probably be another twenty minutes as she had to run to the store for medicine for her brother, apologizing too many times for one text. You answered her assuring her that it was fine, despite the fact that the longer you were alone in the large crowd of loud people, the more uncomfortable you were becoming.

Wary of a panic attack in the middle of the festival that would only become worse with the embarrassment that it would bring, you moved to the outskirts of the crowd and found the only empty bench for as far as you could see. You sat on your own for a bit, incredibly glad that you had the foresight to bring your headphones so that you could listen to music and escape the noise of people laughing and talking loudly. At some point, you noticed someone sitting on the same bench on the far side of you. You scooted over politely, giving them more room before taking out your phone to give yourself something to do with your hands.

“Hey,” You glanced up at the call from the guy sitting on the bench next to you. He had black hair and seemed to be your age, “where did you win that?” He nodded at the mask sitting on your thigh.

“This?” You asked, holding it up and examining it at his nod. “Um, the rubber duck game further up that way.” You told him, motioning further into the festival.

“It reminds me of someone I know – the face at least.” He explained, shooting you a smile.

The face painted on the mask looked bored, unconcerned with anything.

“I think we all know people who are kind of like this.” You commented, brushing your thumb across the cat’s eye, contemplating telling the guy he could have it.

You weren’t expecting him to laugh. “Really? What makes you say that?”

“Well, isn’t there always someone who seems unbothered by everything? Kind of expressionless?” You shrugged, “It’s not really a bad thing, just something I’ve noticed – there’s always someone who looks bored, no matter where you go.”

You weren’t quite sure what suddenly made you so talkative to this stranger, but the conversation flowed easily. He contemplated your words for a moment before nodding.

“Well, from my experience, those people may just be reserved, not just bored. Maybe they just don’t really like having everything written all over their face.”

“Sounds like you know quite a few people who this reminds you of. . . do you want it? I won it for my friend, but she didn’t want to keep it.” You handed the mask out to him and he took it after a moment.

“Nah, just one. But thank you.” A slow smile crossed his face as he looked over your shoulder, standing up and holding the mask over his head. “Hey! Look what I found!” He held out the mask to whoever was behind you and waved it around. “It looks just like you!”

You turned around to see a boy with bleached blonde hair walking toward you, squinting his eyes at the mask the black-haired boy was waving around. Not wanting to be caught staring, you pulled out your phone again, seeing that your friend had texted and asked for you to call her.

“Hello?” You asked after hearing the line pick up.

“Hey! So, he twisted his foot really badly, and it’s pretty swollen. I think I might take him to the doctor. I’m really sorry to bail on you – after making you wait and everything!” Your friend started wailing about how sorry she was, to leave you and not get to eat any Taiyaki.

“It’s okay.” You assured her, “And I can bring you Taiyaki on my way home.” All for the better you thought. Despite being away from the crowd, it was still draining you.

“Okay! You’re the best, can you bring it over at like nine when you leave?”

“Um, I don’t know if I’ll be here that long.” You admitted to her, now noticing that the black-haired boy was attempting to wrangle the cheap mask onto his friend’s face, his friend pushing him away.

“You have to stay to light a lantern!” Your friend was insisting from the phone. “Plus, we’re leaving right now, so if you drop off the food now, it’ll go bad sitting on my doorstep. Please!” She drug out her peas, making you sigh.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll light a lantern for you too then, I’ll see you later.” You hung up before she could make you promise to do anything else, and you began to tuck your headphones away.

“Damn it! It broke!” You glanced up to see that the mask in the black-haired boys’ hands had in fact cracked and the blond boy was now on his phone, reading something. Suddenly, the black-haired boy’s head whipped up to look at you. “Hey, you. Do you think you could win another one of these? Or at least tell me how you did?”

In that moment, you knew that there was a high probability that, despite looking your age, this boy might not be. And it probably wasn’t smart to spend any more time with him. But he seemed friendly enough and you really didn’t want to spend the rest of your night alone. Plus, his friend didn’t seem too overwhelming and if you got uncomfortable, it wasn’t hard to fake a call.

So, you nodded.

Excitedly, he smiled at you, “Nice! I’m Kuroo Tetsurou, this is Kenma Kozume.” He gestured to his friend beside him, “The bored-cat-mask guy.”

Nodding, you introduced yourself before Kuroo happily lead you to where you gestured before in the crowd.

“We’re second years at Nekoma High.” Your eyes widened as you fumbled to catch up to Kuroo again.

“Me too, year 2, class 5.” You told him, motioning to the booth with a sort line leading up to it.

“We’re in year 2, class 2.” You nodded, understanding how you had never seen him as you were in two different classes and you tended to eat in your room with a few friends rather then face the loud cafeteria. “So, how do you win this?”

You explained to him briefly your guess about the weighted ducks, noting him nodding along, examining your face carefully.

“You’re pretty smart then, huh? Come to think of it, isn’t 2-5 college prep?” You flushed slightly, nodding.

“I wouldn’t say it was that hard to figure out though, it’s just that most of these games are rigged so that they make a profit.” You explained as you reached the booth.

Kuroo bought the tickets and insisted on trying to do it himself. You noticed his friend was still there, playing on his phone, eyes blocked by his hair.

After a few attempts at catching the small ducks, you noticed the festival growing more and more crowded as it got closer to night. The main event of this festival was the lantern lighting that started in about an hour, so it wasn’t much of a surprise, but the amount of people was slowly starting to grate on you.

Your friends typically calmed you in situations like these. They knew of your hatred for loud crowds, and constantly encouraged you to try and push past it while also offering a calming, friendly presence as you did so. You were sure that your friend had forgotten just how bad it could get because you hadn’t gotten freaked out in a while. Plus, she as probably more worried about her brother than anything else, so you couldn’t really blame her.

Plus, you were old enough to get through this alone. You should be at least.

“Hey, are you busy for the rest of the festival?” You turned to see that Kuroo was holding a different version of the same cheap plastic mask you had before, and he was looking at you with a kind smile. “I heard a bit of your conversation, and you can hang out with us until the lanterns later, if you want.”

“Uh, sure, thank you.” You accepted after a brief hesitation. You figured being with someone, even a stranger, would be better then being alone with your thoughts overwhelming you. “Did they not have any more of the other mask?” You asked as the three of you started walking, Kenma walking on the other side of Kuroo then you.

“Nah, but it’s okay. I like this one too.” He held it up for you to see, and you noted the smiling cat painted on the plastic with a polite nod. “So,” He asked after a moment. “Are you in any clubs?”

You answered him before returning the question, then listened for the next five minutes as he talked about volleyball, inviting you to come and watch a game sometime.

“Uh, sure.” You agreed, knowing that you probably wouldn’t. You were sure that any kind of sports games involved loud, crowded spaces – something you were actually trying very hard not to think about right now.

After another few moments of walking around and getting to know Kuroo better, he excused himself to go to the bathroom, calling over his shoulder that he would meet you two near where the lanterns were and leaving you and Kenma standing in the middle of the crowded street, the light rapidly fading.

You spared an awkward glance to the blonde at your side only to find him typing something on his phone, looking uncomfortable from the small bit of his face that you could see.

“Do you, uh, want to head that way? Get a few lanterns, or get in line, or something?” Kenma nodded and you started walking after taking a moment to realize that he probably wasn’t going to look up at you.

Anyone else might have found him rude, but you were too focused on the fact that you couldn’t see anything other then people, and they were loud, and bumping into you every step you took, making your chest feel tight and your vision darken.

Somewhere near you, a child screamed, causing you to jump at the sudden loud noise.

You felt like sweat was pouring nonstop from your palms, and your heart was racing. You didn’t think that you were ever going to reach the end of the people.

Forgetting about Kenma, you shoved your way through the crowd and off of the street, searching in vain for an area without people where you could hopefully try and learn how to breathe again.

A hand gripped your wrist and started pulling you. You fought for a moment before feeling completely exhausted and letting it. It took you a few seconds of being pulled, and then you were behind a booth and your wrist was dropped.

The sound was slightly more muffled here, and there were no people. You threw yourself to the ground and let your head hand between your knees, suddenly aware that you were crying and that you were gasping for breath.

“Are you okay?” A quiet voice asked after a moment. You looked up and met Kenma’s eyes. Suddenly, you were alone in the crowd. For a moment, you only examined the golden, cat-like eyes staring at you, before coming to your senses and nodding.

“Yeah. Uh, crowds are,” You gestured to the noise that somehow seemed a lot less of an issue now, with Kenma here and looking slightly concerned at you, “uh, well, not good. For me.” You explained lamely, averting your eyes.

Kenma nodded before sitting down in front of you with plenty of space between your feet. You noticed a loop of flowers between his fingers. Following your gaze, he held up the flower crown the little girl had given to you.

“You dropped it.” He explained. You reached out and took the crown from him.

“Thanks.” You settled it atop your head, embarrassment flooding your chest. You looked up at Kenma only to see his eyes were wide. Even before when he was watching you panic in front of him, he had only looked slightly off-put, but now his jaw was hanging slightly open and his eyes were staring unblinking at you, much more intense-looking then you were expecting.

You followed his gaze to your wrist, seeing nothing but your soulmate tattoo where it had always been. After a moment you looked back at him.

“Are you, uh, good?” You asked, concerned at the fact that he was sitting there, motionless, almost in a trance.

Kenma blinked before searching your face, his stoic expression back on his face. After another tense moment of silence that left you feeling awkward, he shoved the sleeve of his hoodie up on his left arm and presented it to you.

There, on his wrist, plain to see, was a small blue bear. You lifted your hands to grab his wrist, to prove that what you were seeing was real, but hesitated. You had been paying attention today, as much as you could with the crowd, and the boy in front of you seemed extremely reserved, so you refrained, instead flipping your own left arm over and placing it next to his in the air.

The tattoos were perfect replicas of each other.

“Oh.” You whispered, feeling all of the breath leave your lungs as you looked at Kenma with new eyes.

The fact that he and his friend were attractive wasn’t something that had slipped your mind. But, really, you hadn’t been paying too much attention. You took the time to actually look at the boy in front of you objectively and without the hard-to-forget lens of him being your literal soulmate determined by the universe.

He was also looking at you, watching you. You became very aware of the fact that just minutes earlier you were crying, and now the area beneath your eyes felt swollen. Your nose was running, and your eyes were probably bloodshot. Underneath his gaze, you felt exposed, vulnerable. And yet, the way his eyes held yours for a moment before flicking away made you comfortable. The fact that he hadn’t immediately rushed closer to you, hadn’t said anything, hadn’t put any pressure on you at all to react whatsoever, hell, he hadn’t even expected you to hold eye contact with him. . . in that moment you were feeling so incredibly seen and safe.

You sat there with him for a few moments, both of your wrists displayed to the other, but not saying anything. You were facing each other, and if you stretched out your legs, you were sure you could touch your shoe to his. Kenma’s head was turned away from you, but his eyes kept flicking over to look at you or your wrist.

The sounds of the street on the other side of the booth didn’t seem so threatening now, and once you looked up, you noticed the sky was beginning to become dotted with lanterns.

“Do you want me to walk you home?” Kenma asked softly, and you glanced at him to see he had turned to face you again.

You shook your head. “No, I promised my friend I would light a lantern for her and grab her some food.” You said. It was quiet for a moment. “You don’t have to stay with me though, if you need to find Kuroo.”

Kenma didn’t answer, instead leaning back slightly and pulling his phone out of his pocket. He typed on it for a moment, giving you a chance to look at him again.

He was wearing a white hoodie with a red flannel tied around his waist. You noticed that it matched the one Kuroo was wearing over his black tee with a smile. His hood was barely resting on his head.

“Stay here.” Kenma’s voice was soft before he stood and walked around the booth. You waited patiently for him to return, unsure of what he was doing.

When he came back, Kenma was on the phone, listening to whoever was talking. You had stood up while waiting for him. He regarded you with curious eyes as he said goodbye to whoever was on the phone and hung up.

“You promised your friend Taiyaki on the phone earlier, right?” Kenma asked, eyes flickering down to his phone as he talked softly.

“Uh, yeah, you heard that?” Kenma only nodded, tapping on a few things on his screen.

You stood in silence for a few moments, watching the lanterns while Kenma typed on his phone. The silence was accompanied by the background noise of the festival, but you instead focused on the sky above you. Somehow, the fact that Kenma hadn’t suddenly become more talkative around you comforted you. You were always afraid that when you met the person with the tattoo matching yours that it was be awkward. Or that they would expect too much of you. That they would expect you to open up to them immediately, and that they would do the same. Standing with Kenma in relative quiet eased these concerns.

“Hey!” You turned to see Kuroo poking his head around the booth and smiling at the two of you. He walked forward holding a small white bag in one hand, and a few lanterns in the other. “Privacy, nice.” Kuroo winked at you before handing you the bag and two lanterns.

“Thank you.” You told him, peeking into the bag to see steaming Taiyaki. “You really didn’t have to do this, let me pay you back.” You set the lanterns down to reach for your wallet until Kuroo waved you off, plopping down on the ground and beginning to write on his lantern.

“My treat, don’t worry about it.” Kuroo glanced up at you with a wide smile, “And, if I really wanted, I’d make pudding head here pay. It’s the least he could do. . . for his soulmate.” Kuroo winked at you before continuing to write.

You sent a glance to Kenma, his slight blush not going unnoticed. “Sorry.” He mumbled before sitting down and grabbing the last lantern left.

Deciding to let it go, you sat down and grabbed the brush Kuroo offered you. “I figured you’d want one for yourself too.” Kuroo motioned to the two lanterns in front of you.

“That’s really kind, thank you.” You set to work painting your friends name on the lantern before texting her a picture.

Moving on to the second lantern, you carefully painted a small wish on it before assembling the both of them.

The three of you lit the lanterns all at once, letting them fly in a group and watching their ascent. You thanked the two boys again and gathered your things to leave. You had only walked a few steps down the street before your name was gently being called. You turned to see Kenma walking up behind you, looking uncomfortable.

“Can I. . . ” Kenma sighed, not meeting your eyes. “I know I don’t talk much, but would you like to, um, eat lunch together Monday?” Your chest felt warm as you nodded.

“Yeah.” You said, “I’ll find you?” Kenma nodded and you mirrored him for a moment before turning away and making your way to your friend’s house with a small smile on your face.

(this will have one, maybe two, more parts :) )

[daily-dose-of-imagines]

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔽𝕚𝕣𝕤𝕥 𝔻𝕒𝕪

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Heyo this is my first time writing on the blog so be kind. I just got obsessed with the idea of Aizawa being an elementary school teacher 

>> Admin B̷r̷a̷n̷d̷o̷

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Ok, maybe this won’t be so bad? 

He put on a fake smile and looked at himself in the bathroom mirror. The bags under his eyes were somehow more apparent then usual. His face quickly faded into his trademark apathetic scowl. 

Who am I kidding? This is the worst possible situation. 

Aizawa sneered at the thought of his current situation. Of how his pristine English classroom was being taken from him because they needed “fresh blood”. Of how he was not only being forced into a new school, but also a new grade. He sighed (heavier than usual), leaving his dim apartment early, to beat traffic and give him time to dwell further on his current situation.

As he drove, his brain on went on auto pilot and all his worries and thoughts crossed his mind once again. Aizawa had never taught anything lower than 6th grade, and he never wanted to. It’s not that he didn’t like kids, it’s that he didn’t love kids. High schoolers were almost adults, so he didn’t have to sugar coat anything. No snack time, no name calling, no bullshit. The sudden unemployment was truly a wake-up call (not just because he would fall asleep in class), telling him that he needed to get his shit together. He was thankful that his good friend Nezu happened to have a job opening, he just wished it were at any other school.

Arriving at the school made him sick. The bright colors. The intricately hand painted signs reading “Welcome To The New Year!” and “Start the school year with a smile.” The line of staff waiting outside the school to welcome him. The line of staff? Jesus.

His wish to quietly slip into his new classroom vanished before his eyes. There was no way he could avoid meeting his new colleagues now. Hopefully, he thought, I can get through this without too much headache.

“SHOUTAAAAAAAAA!!!!”

And the headache began.

“Oh my god, Shouta! It’s been so long! And you never returned my texts?? I can’t believe we’re working together again! I thought you didn’t like elementary school?? Anyway, c’mon we need to get you all settled!! I heard you got fired?? What’s up with that? Did you- “

Before he could even fully get out of his car, Hizashi was pulling him toward the crowd of faculty almost against his will. The crowd was full of smiling faces, kind waves, and judging glances.

 Ugh

“Welcome Mr. Aizawa! I am glad that Mr. Yamada was telling the truth that he was a close friend. Well I know that our little pocket of perfect isn’t quite the high school setting you’re used to but believe me that you’ll love it soon enough.” Principal Nezu smiled happily and gestured to the quaint little school.

“Starting in the middle of the school year isn’t easy, but I’m sure you’ll be able to handle it,” he added with a wink.

Aizawa glanced briefly at the bright marquee reading “U. A. Elementary School”, then back to the group of hopeful faces. He put on his best “I’m totally not wishing I was somewhere else right now” face, and /reluctantly/ expressed his joy to be there. 

With his seemingly pleasant response, the evaluative air cleared somewhat, and the gossipier teachers left the gathering, no longer interested.

Taking Aizawa’s arm, Nemuri pressed her chest against him, “Hate to interrupt but Shouta- Mr. Aizawa, really needs to get to his classroom.” With that, the tall woman, along with Hizashi, practically dragged the poor man away, though he was internally grateful to be away from the crowd.

They arrived at Aizawa’s new classroom, still full of the previous teachers’ belongings. He pulled himself away from the others, brushing himself off.

“Thanks Midnight.”

“Oh, stop with that,” Nemuri responded, fixing her immaculate hair in the reflection from the window, “I haven’t gone by that since college. No one here needs to know the escapades of Ms. Midnight.”

Aizawa chuckled lightly, “At least I have some familiar faces here, aside from Nezu.” He peered over to the other two, seeing their “trying to be respectful but insanely curious” faces. “Fine, I’ll address the elephant in the room. Yes, I was fired. No, it was not for selling drugs to the kids, Hizashi. I just… had trouble staying awake, apparently a few times too many.”

Hizashi sighed in defeat and pulled a twenty out of his pocket, handing it sadly to Nemuri.

“Good thing there was an opening here for you,” Hizashi replied, almost like a whine as he mourned his loss, “Too bad it came at the loss of Yagi. Poor guy having to be stuck at home after that dumb injury.”

Nemuri chuckled, “It’s his own fault for jumping out of the second story window to give one of his students the lunchbox they forgot.”

“He’ll be back next year, and I’ll be long gone. hopefully.” Aizawa interrupted, tying his long hair back. “Now can you two leave? I have kids coming in less than an hour to a teacher that could care less about them right now.��

Nemuri exhaled sharply through her nose, a smirk crossing her face, “You need a better attitude, my friend, or they will eat you alive.” She pushed herself off the desk, pulling Hizashi along.

“Good luck!” He called out, “let me know if I can help! The music room is always open for you!”

As the door slowly closed, Aizawa turned back to his new classroom. The desks were arranged in neat rows and columns, small pieces of tape on the carpeted floor to ensure that they remained in their neat arrangement. He was appalled by the disorganized mess that was Yagi’s previous desk arrangement.

Aizawa sat at his new desk, dropping his head into his hands. He had never taught 2nd grade before. Sure, he was certified to teach it, but that was more of a trophy to him than an actual career choice. Like when someone minors in art history. What made it especially difficult was that he was taking over a class run by the one and only Yagi Toshinori, legendary his teaching. He was the “symbol of peace” for teachers, doing interviews for local news stations and giving presentations for the school district.

The four of them (Yagi, Hizashi, Nemuri, and himself) had gone through college together, but lost touch as they all chose their path. Yagi with younger kids, Aizawa with teens, Hizashi with music, and Nemuri with administration. Aizawa knew that Yagi was a better teacher than him, and that he had big shoes to fill, literally.

Aizawa broke from his lamentation as the morning bell rang. He opened his door to be greeted with the cacophonous sound of 20 children itching the get into their classroom. He was nearly knocked over by the force of almost two dozen children running into inspect what the new teacher had done. Surprisingly, the new layout did not stop the wave of children, they all quickly found their name tags and sat down, most of them loudly complaining.

Aizawa moved to the front of the room and cleared his throat. Twenty small faces focused on him. “Good morning students. As you may know, Mr. Toshinori is injured and will not be able to continue teaching this year. My name is Mr. Aizawa and I’m going to be your teacher for the remainder of the school year-” A series of small hands shot up in front of him. He sighed, “Yes, you,” pointing to the small girl sitting politely in the front row.

“Excuse me, but why can’t Mr. Toshinori come back?” she asked, cocking her head.

Before he could answer, another young girl, this one with pink hair, jumped up, “Momo, he broke his butt, that’s why he can’t come back!”

“He didn’t break his butt! He broke his feet, stupid.” A blonde boy in the back stood up and pointed at her.

“Who are you calling stupid? I saw it, you buttface.” She stuck her tongue out at him. Seeing her mocking face, the boy began throwing his pencils at her, to which she started throwing her pencils. Momo began crying at the violence, while the other students began cheering for one of the other two students.

This was going to be a long day.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

As Nemuri entered the teacher’s lounge, she was greeted with the sight of Aizawa looking… well, dead. “Well, I was expecting this.” She commented, setting her stack of papers down and sitting on the table in front of him. “Rough day?” Aizawa merely groaned in response. She patted his head lightly, “You know what they say about kids, it’s like wrangling kittens.”

“I’ve never heard that.” He replied, lifting his head up to a more alive position. “I don’t know how he did it. Those kids just don’t listen.”

“How did you deal with your high schoolers?”

“None of us wanted to be there so we respected each other’s time and got shit done.”

Nemuri clicked her tongue, “It’s a wonder why you’re a teacher at all. You used to have passion for teaching, Shouta. Try to tap into some of that.” With that, Nemuri hopped off the desk, scooping up her papers, “If you need advice on how to deal with them, we’re here for you, all three of us.”

The door to the lounge closed softly behind, and he was once again alone. Aizawa hesitated at the thought of asking any of them for help. He had not spoken to any of them for years. While he enjoyed their company, Aizawa knew he did not belong. Nemuri, Hizashi, and of course Yagi, all had this passion and fire for education that Aizawa himself had lost years ago. It felt wrong to him to be there.

The soft chime of the lunch bell reminded Aizawa that he had to return to his classroom. Which he really did not want to do. The kids barely got along with each other, who they have known for months, how were they supposed to cooperate with him, a total stranger? He trudged back to his classroom, just as the students began pouring in. As they took their seats, he stood, and began writing their next lesson on the board. Once all were seated, he turned around to address them.

 “I am very disappointed with how the morning went.” At this remark, half the students rolled their eyes, while the other half looked like they were going to burst into tears. Aizawa stopped and began thinking. What would Yagi do in this situation? He would be cheery and upbeat and overly personal with the students. Well, he thought, nothing would hurt to try at this point.

He sighed, sitting down on his desk, “Listen guys, I know this is hard for you, its hard for me two. The only way we can make this work is if we give each other a chance and get to know each other. So..” he looked at the confused faces of the kids, “Let’s go outside.”

The students all filed outside behind Aizawa, confused yet intrigued. He turned to face them, “Now I have a task for you, we’re going to go on a hike around the school, and you’re going to tell me about everything interesting you see.” The students collectively gasped and nodded excitedly.

As the class walked around the school, Aizawa learned many things about the kids. Like how Tenya liked to walk this path with his brother, or how Shoto would take trips through the woods when he wanted to get away from his family, or how Yuga collect only “the prettiest and shiniest” rocks. Although this was far more effort than he usually put into teaching, Aizawa was having fun.

The week from that point on went… surprisingly well. The students slowly warmed up to Aizawa, and even began enjoying his teaching. They continued setting time aside for a class hike and decided that they would start a nature journal to write about what they saw on their hikes. Aizawa, even though he would never admit it, even started smiling more in class. Before he knew it, the end of the week had already come.

As the students filed out of the room, several waved goodbyes to Aizawa. He smiled and waved back, eyes wandering to the small boy standing shyly next to him. “Hey Midoriya, do you need something? You should be heading home.”

“I am going home! But I made you something to celebrate how much fun we are having! I still like Mr. Toshinori more, but you’re really fun!” The boy shoved a piece of paper into Aizawa’s hands. “Ok my mom is waiting, bye Mr. Aizawa! See you next week!” Before Aizawa could respond, the boy ran out of the room. He looked at the paper. On it was a crudely drawn picture of him and the class on one of their hikes. He chuckled lightly, pinning the picture to the wall. 

He was pulled away from his thoughts by the sudden vibrations of his phone. Without checking, he answered, “Aizawa speaking.”

“Um, hey! It’s been a while.”

“…Yagi?”

“Yeah! Hizashi told me you were taking over for me, and I, uh, wanted to say thanks!”

“I should be thanking you,” Aizawa commented, amusement crossing his face upon hearing the familiar voice again, “I needed a job and you had some broken bones.” They both chuckled awkwardly.

After a moment of thick silence, Aizawa sighed, “Its good time hear from you, Yagi. I’m sorry it’s been so long.”

Yagi chuckled, “We should catch up soon. You know, when I can walk again that is.” he paused, “So I, uh actually called to... uh, How are the kids?”

Aizawa laughed at how the blonde could barely hide his intentions. “They’re doing fine, no need to worry.”

“Are you handling them alright? I know they can be a handful.”

Aizawa looked fondly at the drawing Midoriya had handed him, “It’s an adjustment, but I think we’ll be able to get through the year.

[liam-93-productions]

Liam Payne is on the cover of Esquire Middle East's June 2019 issue

The One Direction star was photographed on a rainy day in London

During the shoot, Payne opens up about the media's obsession with romance rumours

"Most of what you read online about me is straight BS" says Payne

It’s raining in West London. Every weather man, woman, and app had forecast that sunshine would be on the agenda for the day. But no. It’s raining. So, we’re stuck inside instead.

Alternating between balancing on a set of dumbbells (...) Liam Payne doesn’t seem to mind all that much about the weather. He’s used to plans changing pretty quickly.

“I’ve found in my life at the moment, because of the way things have happened, that everything’s kind of fast-forwarded,” says Payne, his dark eyes lighting up like those of a prospector that’s just panned a nugget of gold, “everything has fast-forwarded.”

Payne’s lived pretty much his entire life on fast-forward. He had his first X-Factortelevision appearance at the age of fourteen. He embarked on his first world tour with a little band named One Direction—you might have heard of them—only four years later. The band sold more than 50 million albums worldwide, and had four albums debut at number one in the US charts. (...)

As Payne ambles about the studio, it’s hard not to notice that even the tattoo on his forearm bears a striking resemblance to the fast-forward button on a television remote. Or a Spotify skip button.

Having recently performed alongside Rita Ora at the Global Teacher Prize concert in Dubai, Payne looks healthy and tanned, kissed by the sun even though his visit to the region was greeted by weather not dissimilar to today’s overcast conditions. “I think the weather’s just following me around at the minute,” he says with a laugh as abrupt as the first half of a hiccup. “There’s an air of something almost Vegas-y about Dubai,” adds Payne, “everything’s a little bit of a show there.”

Payne is no stranger to bit of a show. As well as having spent the better part of a decade touring the world with One Direction (the band is currently on a definitely indefinite hiatus) Payne helped break a concert attendance record in the Middle East last year by performing in front of 110,000 people. “I didn’t eat anything at dinner beforehand because I was thinking no-one’s going to turn up,” he admits.

To make Liam Payne nervous certainly takes some doing. Back in 2009—when ambitions of winning X-Factor as a solo performer were still very much at the forefront of his mind—Payne sang in front of over 29,000 fans as part of the pre-match entertainment of a game between his local football team Wolverhampton Wanderers and Manchester United. A pretty heady experience for a boy not yet old enough to drive a car.

Now 25, Payne knew from an early age that he could “hold a tune”. What it took him longer to realise was that others couldn’t. “I think I thought it was just a normal thing that people could get on with,” he says with a shrug. That may well have been the case when it came to his local theatre group, but when considering most of the “normal things”that people “get on with”, we’d hazard a guess that the majority don’t involve amassing over two billion streams on Spotify.

But that’s Liam Payne for you: unassuming, self-effacing, and—for the most part—a guy who seems just genuinely happy to be here. It’s easy to forget when deliberating the merits of Linkin Park’s nu-metal masterpiece ‘Meteora’ with Payne that his face was once plastered on the bedroom walls of millions of tweens the world over.

Payne’s achieved extraordinary success in the quarter of a century he’s exhausted so far. So much so that you’d expect the moment that sparked off his passion for music to be equally spectacular. A real spontaneous Kevin Bacon dancing-in-an-abandoned-warehouse sort of epiphany. The reality is that it wasn’t romantic or sexy in the slightest. It was karaoke. “I used to go out to Cornwall and see my grandad and we’d always go to this karaoke bar and we’d sing a load of different stuff,” says Payne.

What sort of “stuff” does a future pop-star sing in a karaoke bar in a small town on the west coast of the UK? Well, the same oeuvre that you or I are have probably crooned into a microphone at midnight at Lucky Voice: ‘Angels’ by Robbie Williams.

While Payne isn’t ashamed to admit that he was listening to Williams pretty much 24/7 as a youngster (“No, I really was”), one of the first CDs he bought with his own money was an Eminem record. Growing up with both Robbie Williams and Marshall Mathers as his idols, he places his own sound as “somewhere in-between the two”.

A little bit Slim Shady and a little bit Rock DJ, that intersection of pop and rap is reflected in Payne’s solo career so far. His debut single, the catchy-as-the-plague earworm ‘Strip That Down’, featured Migos alum Quavo and went on to be certified platinum in both the US and the UK. The title track of his First Time EP also saw Payne join forces with rapper French Montana. Payne’s certainly not the first popstar to align themselves with a more urban sound in an attempt to appeal to an older demographic. Nor will he be the last. The transition from squeaky-clean boyband member to fullyfledged solo artist is, after all, anything but easy. To use a Take That comparison: for every one Robbie Williams, there are a hundred Mark Owens.

When it comes to One Direction, it’s still a bit too soon to tell who the Robbies and the Marks of the bunch are going to be. “When we did the band stuff it was very—not exactly scripted—but let’s just say you kind of knew your audience very well,” says Payne. “We’d usually sell a tour out before we’d even done an album. And then they [the record producers] would go: ‘Right, you’re doing stadiums’. And then you’d go: ‘Okay, so we need longer choruses—the kind of songs that people can chant in a stadium’. You had to kind of write around the tour.”

If that process sounds a bit paint-by-numbers, that’s because—by Payne’s own admission—it was. “It’s a very backwards way to do it,” he admits, “obviously people don’t really tend to write like that. But we just had no time, so it was like: ‘Quick! We need another hit and another and another!’ It was actually easier to write in that scenario because there were so many hoops you had to jump through. It wouldn’t necessarily be my choice of music now—it wasn’t something that I would listen to—but I just knew how to make it, if that makes sense?”

Going from such a canned bop formula to a world of complete creative freedom is a daunting prospect for anyone looking to make it as a solo act. But that was far from the only challenge Payne faced. Streaming services like Spotify and Apple Music have drastically altered the music industry since the phone-to-vote days that launched One Direction. “The way that the industry kind of works now is kind of a difficult one because of the way albums are and the introduction of Spotify,” says Payne. “When I was in the band, Spotify wasn’t really a thing for us, we didn’t really care. We used to sell a lot of albums and physical copies, so it was different for us. As I got more into the solo stuff it was a kind of, like, a bit f**king confusing.”

All you need to do is look at the chains that Payne draped around his neck during the releases of a series of sophomore singles to see a man adopting a kabuki mask that didn’t quite fit. A man who was, in his words, a bit f**king confused. “‘Strip That Down’ was amazing and I was really happy with the success of it—but it didn’t necessarily paint the right picture of me and who I actually am,” he says, “I always found, to start off with, that with a lot of the chains and the clothes and the fashion, I was kind of hiding behind something. We did a billion streams for ‘Strip That Down’ but it still all gets a bit heady and at a certain point you’re like: ‘what the f**k am I doing here?’ It’s a bit like being stuck out in deep water and you’re just going ‘well, it would be really nice to get back now.’”

Payne might still be far from the shore, but he seems to be treading water at a more comfortable pace nowadays. “It took me a long to get my head around it,” he says (...)

And where is Liam Payne now? Well, he’s sat in front of me looking comparatively anxiety-free: comfortable and relaxed in a plain black tee and pair of tailored HUGO trousers. “My style and my fashion sense are all quite laid back now because that’s kind of the way I am as well. I don’t feel the need to hide behind the clothes anymore. I feel I can finally be who I am and enjoy myself.”

The last few years have witnessed a real boy-to-man transition for the ex-boy band squaddie. A coming-of-age moment came when he arrived at Frank Sinatra’s house in Palm Springs to record his part of ‘For You’ with Rita Ora. A crooning, finger-snapping, rather embarrassingly-waist-coated rendition of ‘Fly Me to The Moon’ was what Payne sang to get through his first ever X-Factor audition. Walking into Old Blue Eyes’ home, for Payne, came with the realisation that he’d “made that complete full-circle journey”.

Suffice it to say there’s no turning around for Payne in that journey when it comes to the fame front; he’s well in the thickets of the tabloid jungle. Headlines about who’s “breaking silence on romance rumours” with the popstar are a daily occurrence in the British papers. So too are accompanying photographs of his face. Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Payne has, after all, got a rather nice face. The latest use of which has seen it become the face of Hugo Boss’s latest HUGO menswear line.

“To be honest, they called me and it just seemed to make a lot of sense at the time. It was a direction that I knew I’d love to go down,” says Payne on how his partnership with the brand first came about. “It’s very rare that a big company like Hugo Bosscomes around asking for you to be the face of it. It’s a bit of a dream come true actually.”

Previous Hugo Boss ambassadors include the likes of Chris Hemsworth, Jamie Dornan and Gerard Butler. Handsome faces. Familiar faces. Faces that are now forever immortalised in the public conscience. A fact that Payne is all-too conscious of himself. “I was looking through the different people that they’ve had on their roster over the years and they’re all people that I look up to,” says Payne, “So, I’m obviously quite excited but it’s also a bit daunting because these things,” he spreads his arms in a gesture that aptly sums up the rigmarole of press junkets and interviews, “are literally around for forever now.”

Moving from location to location and outfit to outfit, it becomes evident that dressing to hide who he is, is no longer on Payne’s agenda. As he’s grown (both figuratively and literally) in the public eye, and Payne’s now come to accept the lane he’s in. “I’ve become more in tune with things now,” he says, “as the years go by, I think you gain a different level of confidence and find out what works for you and what doesn’t, rather than constantly trying to be something that you’re not. If that makes sense?” It does.

What makes less sense is why Payne decided to go with chains in the first place “It was quite funny at the time when everyone used to get really mad about it,” he says referencing outraged headlines like: Sleepy Liam Payne leaves a London studio wearing a HUGE gold chain. “It just didn’t really matter to me.”

What matters to Payne is when those stories affect the lives of those around him. One particular article published in the British newspaper, The Daily Mail, last year that attempted to insinuate he was romantically linked with a member of his team irked Payne so much that the usually apolitical Twitterer took to social media to criticising the newspaper.

“The difference with that story was that the people that they were putting me with have families, boyfriends, girlfriends,” explains Payne, “I go home every night and know that people write horses**t about me daily. I won’t worry about it because I know it’s f**king bulls**t. But for someone who’s never had a story written about them before? If they go home and their partner’s reading the paper going like: ‘what the f**k is this?’ It’s difficult for them to be able to explain that.” Payne’s voice ratchets up a few decibels when he says this. He uses more than a few words we’re not legally allowed to print. I can tell that he cares about this. That it needles him. That it’s not something he has to say, but rather something that he needs to say. So, I let him.“I asked for this, I get paid very handsomely to be here and it’s part of my life and I get it. It’s alright. You can write what the f**k you want about me but when it comes to other people who work with me? That is not on.”

The only way for Payne to cut through that noise is by doing the thing he knows best: making music. “Everything I do is very, very public a lot of the time. I get reported on a lot for different things. I just think there’s a certain line where I have to have my say. And that there’s only one way for me to do that—which is through my music.”

(...)

Communicating as a public figure becomes increasingly difficult when navigating the glut of information that exists online. Do a quick Google search for ‘Liam Payne’ and you’ll be greeted by countless fan sites with a never-ending litany of “facts” about the man. Facts like:

“Liam Payne prefers showers over baths” “Liam Payne sleeps naked” “Liam Payne has a phobia of spoons”

While Payne is quick to assure me that most of what you’ll read online is straight B.S., one fact did keep cropping up again and again. And I mean, c’mon, I couldn’t not ask him about the spoons, could I?

“Yeah, I did have a fear of spoons,” he groans with the weariness of a man who’s been pelted with countless pieces of cutlery, “but it wasn’t so much a fear as something that’s now turned into a thing because of the internet. I was forced in detention once to wash up dirty plates and spoons and I think it just put me off looking at how dirty some of these spoons came back. But people used to throw spoons at me in concerts! I should have said I had a fear of pillows—that would have been comfier.”

All things considered, a fear of spoons is a fairly harmless rumour to spread. But rumours rarely ever are. Most are vicious; spreading like wildfire and burning all of those they touch. “I’ve been dead,” says Payne abruptly. “People I love have been dead.”

The non-stop 24-hour nature of the news cycles can be overwhelming to read, let alone to be involved in via the announcement of your own death. “You have to learn fast and we [One Direction] had to grow up pretty quick in the circumstances that we were under or else you kind of f**k it a little bit,” he says. If you’ve ever seen clips of The Beatles or BTS getting mobbed on the streets, you know the kind of hysteria that can ensue when boyband members are seen out in public.

“I don’t think I struggle in the sense of what you would naturally think of when I’m walking down the street with every person stopping me,” says Payne, “I mean, it happens sometimes but it’s mainly mentally where you struggle with it. It’s the getting ready and always knowing that you might be photographed.” From elaborate airport fits to the loungewear he puts on to pick up a pint of semiskimmed milk from the shop down the road, there’s never a moment where Payne and his clothing aren’t in danger of becoming front page news.

One of the ways that Payne combats that simmering anxiety is by going for a run at 5am every morning. It’s probably why he’s been able to maintain his sanity so far. And probably why he’s in—as evidenced by his numerous topless Instagram photos—such great nick.

“I love it. I get myself outside and into the day and get past that fear of ‘what if this happens?’ or ‘what if that happens?’. Because, for a long time, I became—what’s the word?” says Payne, gesticulating wildly as if he’ll catch the phrase careening around his head like a runaway wasp, “there’s a word for this condition where you stay inside and never leave, it’s in Ocean’s Twelve…”

I saw Ocean’s Twelve last week. The word he’s looking for is agoraphobia.

“Yeah, that’s it. I developed a bit of agoraphobia. I would never leave the house. And I do sometimes suffer with it a bit in the sense that I’ll get days where I just don’t want to leave my house. Even if it’s just going to the shop. I’d be going i to order a coffee at Starbucks and I would sweat because I wouldn’t know whether I was doing the right thing or not. I would be thinking: ‘f**k, I don’t want to be here’.”

I worry for a moment whether Payne is feeling that same feeling today but decide instead to take likely misplaced solace that my innate knowledge of the Ocean’s film franchise has won him over.  “I even used to have a really bad problem with going to petrol stations and paying for petrol. I can feel it now—it was like this horrible anxiety where I’d be sweating buckets in the car thinking ‘I don’t want to do this’.”

Many people suffer from moments of panic and instances where we feel crushed by the weight of  the world’s expectations and Payne is all-too aware that his specific anxieties stem from a position of privilege. “Unfortunately, it does happen to everybody in this industry,” he says, “I think at a certain point you just have to get over it as quickly as you can.”

There we are once again: back to doing things quickly. Back to being on fast-forward. Back to doing countless interviews in specifically allotted time slots. Back to that constant pressure where “everything happens a little bit quicker in my world than it does in everyone else’s”.

Everything might be happening a hell of a lot quicker for Liam Payne than me, but I’m still interested to know: what’s next for the man? What does he want to achieve in the not-yet fast-forwarded future? “I’m hoping for something a lot more than what I’ve done so far, if that makes sense?” Having listened to Payne’s solo discography in preparation for this interview, it really does.

Sure, Payne’s produced a spate of bonafide bangers—songs that will have you singing along as you whip down Emirates Road—but they’re also songs that are, for the most part, still formulaic. They’re catchy, glossily well-produced, yet contain something of an air of inauthenticity about them.

And, having met Payne, I can’t help but feel they seem at odds with his unabashedly authentic self. As he tells me: “People can see right through that s**t and it’s difficult for you to then go and say ‘buy this record!’ if you don’t really believe in what’s going on.”

So, what does a man who’s (sort of) afraid of spoons actually believe in? Moreover, what does a man who eats ice cream with a fork want to be remembered as having believed in? “I’m obviously really happy with some of the stuff I’ve done. Like breaking world records with the band and all sorts of amazing stuff. But in the recent years, it’s been a bit topsy-turvy with me kind of finding my way. And I’d rather not be remembered for a lot of those things. I want to make a really amazing album that’s not, like,” and he air-quotes here, “important, but something that people really get into. Something that makes certain people feel a couple things. I think that would be the best thing for me. I just want to make people move, if that makes sense?”

In case you haven’t already noticed, that question (‘if that makes sense?”) is practically punctuation to Payne. It’s a caveat that ends many of his statements; an interrogation of his own beliefs and a moment where his PR armour reveals its chinks and offers a glimpse of the man beneath the surface. A man that is equal parts cocksure and uncertain—a man who’s very rarely both and almost never neither.

While he might be living on fast-forward—and shows no signs of slowing anytime soon—Liam Payne, for the moment at least, might just be in the midst of the most interesting time of his life. His legacy is currently being written, awaiting the day we’ll eventually look back with a clearer idea of whether he’s a Robbie Williams or a Mark Owen. As for me, I’m just hoping that the next evolution of Liam Payne’s career is a lot more Liam Payne than the last. If that makes sense?

[yandere-society]

can i request y/n, having escaped either yandere hoseok or jungkook years later, living her new life with her new bf/husband (one of the members heh), when hoseok/jungkook barges in- while her new man is home.

This Side of Paradise

Admin/Writer; Chinkbihh

Trigger Warnings; blood, murder, slight gore, mention of brainwashing, if children in yandere makes you uncomfortable pls don’t read, also trash writing so that’s fun

Words;1.2k

“Determination becomes obsession and then it becomes all that matters.”

Hoseok always considered himself to be a clean person.  

Or, at the very least, someone who partook in acts that would require the least amount of pick up.  

But in this case...a mess somewhat came with the territory.  

Still, Hoseok supposed he could’ve done the deed a bit more elegantly than what he had.  He had no one to blame but himself for this mess.

Blood was splattered everywhere, painting the once pirstine and white tiled kitchen as a crimson mayhem.  The owner of said blood laid face down on the floor, lifeless with a knife sticking out the neck that continued to ooze out blood.

Hoseok ‘tsked’ and moved over to the sink to wash off any leftover stains on his hands.  Stepping over the corpse in the process, the new murderer muttered, “Poor bastard didn’t even see it coming.”  

In fact, this husband of yours almost deserved it.  

He stole you from Hoseok.  An act that was unforgivable by any realms of truth.  Then the fucker was dumb enough to take a stranger in who claimed to be an old friend of yours.  

Friend.

Hoseok laughed out loud at that.

How absurd...

He was more than a friend.  A fucking friend didn’t describe an ounce of what soul bound there was between you and Hoseok.  It was meant to be. Something that wasn’t up for debate. A fact that should just be accepted by everyone around the two of you.  

Hoseok frowned once more as he recalled that your husband had let him in without question, even offering him a drink before Hoseok attacked from the back.  

So you hadn’t told your ‘hubby’ about your highschool boyfriend?  

Hoseok suspected that if you had told him about Hoseok then the guy wouldn’t have been so keen to let him in. In the past, you did have a tendency to tell other classmates that Hoseok was ‘obsessed’ and a ‘stalker’.  He didn’t hold it against you though, he rather liked the cat and mouse game that you two had. And that fact that you didn’t warn your husband only aided the theory that Hoseok had been suspecting all along;

You knew he would come back.  You were just waiting for him like the good girl you were.  

As Hoseok took a dish rag and dried his ruby-stained hands, he began to walk around the small house in inspection of your new life.  

It wasn’t a grand house with elaborate decor, instead it was humble and cute.  Your preference of simple interior design was spotted all around. The home was utterly normal, a traditional ‘stater home’ for a family of three.  As it should remain that way.

Three.  

All that will change is the husband.  But that was easy to do, like replacing an actor with an eager understudy.  Hoseok was all too willing to sweep in and take the responsibility of a father and a husband.  

He supposed he should start getting to know his new son.  

From the family portraits hung on the wall (Hoseok cringed and made a mental note to make his family get new ones now that he was here) he could gather that your son was very young, most likely between the ages two and five.  The youngster had your eyes and hair, but there was no denying that the overall facial structure belonged to his dad and his dad alone. Yet there was enough of your features for Hoseok to find himself gazing fondly at the boy, this could’ve been very different if he was a direct copy of his biological father.  

Hoseok wanted kids of his own the resembled him, one day.  But there was always time to have some more children, he was certain that your son would love a younger sibling.

‘Seokjin sure was a lucky guy.’ Hoseok thought to himself.  And it was true, this ‘Jin’ fella had everything Hoseok had ever wanted.  The most perfect woman to call his wife and a child that was evidence of the love they held for each other.  But like they say... ‘all good things must come to an end.’

What they also say is, ‘dress for the job you want, not the job you have.’

This is why Hoseok decided to take matters into his own hands and get everything prepared for his little ducklings.  

He went into the master bedroom and sifted through the closet for a different set of clothes, something not tainted with blood stains.  Jin was a bit more broad than him, but Hoseok paid it no mind and happily changed into his clothes. The man had a safe wardrobe, Hoseok observed with amusement, but that was to be expected of a family man.  

Next, Hoseok returned to the bloody scene of the kitchen and began to drag the body out into the backyard garden.  It wasn’t elaborate by any means, the main goal was just to get the body out of the house. It was a temporary fix as he figured he can keep you and the child away from the body for at least a few days before he would be forced to drop it into a ditch a few towns over.  

This was considerably proven when Hoseok stepped back into the house to catch the sound of a large school bus rolling by, the laughter and squeals of children filling the empty air and echoing back within the small homes’ walls.

Grinning, Hoseok practically skipped to the front of the house to rip open the front door and watch his son arrive from school.  

Already a proud father, Hoseok awaited the boy.

--

As you pulled up to the the familiar drive way of your home, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the living room window that glowed with life.

So Jin was up.  He just hadn’t been answering your texts.  

When you had texted him (about two hours prior) about making dinner tonight, you had just assumed that he was being an ass and didn’t want to cook.  Why else wouldn’t he text back? Thus, the steaming bag of take out that sat beside you in your car.

You really hated having to resort to junk food to feed your family, but you were just so busy and had to work within your sons’ bed time.  Besides, your son had a healthy diet. You and Jin always made homemade meals for him. What harm can some occasional chinese take out do to him?  

You got out of your car and grabbed the food, prepared to walk in and nag Jin’s ear off about his failure to communicate with you.  

Except when you entered the house, a sight was waiting for you, making you shut your mouth just as quickly as you had opened it.

A bloodcurdling sight that had the bag of take out falling from your now limp and clammy hands.  

“H-Hoseok?”

The man was sat with your son on the floor, smiling and talking gently to the boy as they played with blocks to build miniature buildings.  God knows how long he had been left alone with your child.

Your son turned to face you, baby face morphed into an expressive smile that pulled back his doughy soft cheeks as he whimsically called out, “Mommy, you’re home!  Why didn’t you tell me I had another dad? He’s much better than the old one.” 

(Okay so like Im sorry this was bad and short but my brain is literally fried due to the most intense exam of my life.  i’m sorry...also why was it so hard to find cute hoseok gifs? Idk I liked the gif but like it didn’t scream yandere ya know? This is chinkbihh….signing out I guess....)

[klydcs]

what’s up, fam ?! i’m lania and i’m here to bring my trash son klyde here. he’s loud and ready to annoy the sh** out of everyone ( even me ). also--i haven’t rped in a year so be gentle with me as i get back in the grove of things. send me a quick message if you want to plot or just talk about the good ol’ vine days and reminisce. i’m down for it all. now hit that read more if you want to find out about my boi and check out my plots. 

neels visser, cismale, he/him. → look out, there’s KLYDE CALLOWAY. you know, the 20 year old TREASURER of GAMMA PHI EPSILON. you know, i overheard someone say that they were HUBRISTIC, IMPETUOUS, INDEPENDENT and HONEST. but that’s just rumours. THE SOUND OF A SKATEBOARD A MILE AWAY, SKINNED KNEES, AND PAINT STAINED VANS, come to mind when i think of them. what about you?

‹ man of the HOUR › ( trigger warning; death, drug use, & violence?? )

two criminals decided to have a child. a con artist and a bank robber decided to bring a baby into the world together. he was destined to follow a path of bad decisions the minute he was born.

he was born in manhattan, ny but was raised in multiple different cities. his parents were constantly running so he was constantly going. up until he was seven years old, he rode along with his parents and their crew. klyde lived his younger years always waiting. waiting for his parents to get back from their “work”, waiting to get to be a child, waiting for a home, waiting for everything. his parents absolutely adored him but they didn’t love him as much as they loved money. their greed didn’t allow them the true opportunity to be parents. their greed also didn’t allow klyde the true opportunity to be a child.

another year passed and when klyde was eight years old his father was gunned down in front of a bank of america. gun shots pierced through the air and klyde remembers them being so loud. shivers ran down his spine and elicited confusion. he was sat outside across the street from the bank in their getaway vehicle. but he just sat there, with his eyes close and waited. his parents always told him to just wait and they’d be there. it wasn’t until hours later that the police found him. sobs were consuming his body and his eyes were still closed. that’s when the boy first learned how to grieve.

after the loss of his father, klyde forgot how to speak for a while. the trauma rendered him silent and he was mute for two years. he had a magician of a mother who loved to do the disappearing act. she had settled back with him in new york. however as he got older, his mother decided to go on her con runs alone. she left him in a lavish home built from the hard-earned money of strangers he would never meet. it was no surprise he grew up resenting her and her fleeting image. the two were never close and once his father died their separation was not reparable. klyde couldn’t help but grow to despise the parents that cared about money more than them. however, he was their son after all and the apple does not fall too far from the tree. and by the time he was sixteen, he realized just how valuable money was.    

klyde grew up to be the kind of man his parents would be proud of. he was far too honest for his withering heart. money left his palm with a careless vehemence. words seemed to exit his mouth before he could rethink them. the wide-eyed boy became the walking replica of his old man. greed etched its way into his heart before anyone could help him. he grew up with the notion that money meant everything. money raised him and cared for him when his parents couldn’t. he hated the way greed ruined his family but being obsessed with money was part of the calloway way. that boy’s dna didn’t allow him to be different and it got to the point where he didn’t even try. selfish indulgences became his latest love affair.

when he reached the age of eighteen, he went off to college without a word to his mother. he left a note telling her to wire him half a grand and left. of course she did it and continued to supply her son with money. 

just like his father, a plethora of vulgarities always make their way out of his mouth. even when he’s in the midst of a loved one. this man has no filter or care in the world but he isn’t horrible like his parents were. he’s not deceitful like his conartist parents taught him to be. he was b e t t e r. as best as a calloway could get ( which was not much ) 

‹ man of PERSONALITY › 

even though his environment changes–he doesn’t change. he’s selfish, arrogant, honest, loud, and tries his best to be as kind as his honesty lets him. he’s like that annoying younger brother no one wanted but loves. he’ll invite himself to anything you’re doing and make it seem totally natural. 

MY GUY is the absolute worst when it comes to being in a relationship. he’s bisexual and has been in not too many relationships. he’s not a fan bc once he feels he’s like starting to fall for a person he’s like “ZOINK--g2g and ruin it” because he doesn’t do commitment well. like he is lowkey scared of being committed to one person and them leaving him bc it’s been a pattern in his life. so, he ruins it before it can go anywhere. or sometimes he’s just bored and cheats. he’s very weak around people who look good. it’s pathEtic.

he’s chaotic and does a lot of dumb shit and is up so late in the night that at one point all of his ideas are stupid. then, add him smoking weed and/or drinking and he’s a mess.

ARTIST ALERT !! loves painting and drawing in general. it’s his ting. 

a skateboard is his main means of transportation and he carries a blow horn in his bookbag to scare the shit out of everyone when he needs them to move out of his way. he’s annoying x 2. 

thinks very highly of himself and it definitely shows. 

handles money and finances very well. he will talk your ears off about investing and making good investments and he does which is crazy. unlike his parents, he prefers to gain money in a legal way. his parents can’t relate

‹ man of PLOTS ›

familia; klyde has practically no family and issues with keeping people close. somehow this person managed to became practically his family. they are super close and have to deal with him and his obnoxious self on a daily. however, they handle it well and care for him for some reason. 

exes; they probably ended in flAMEs because he’s the worst. he probably cheated on them or did something horrible to them and they ended. maybe they are the one person he regrets hurting? or maybe he doesn’t care and acts like it’s no big deal and wants to still be friends with them? maybe this was the person he cheated with and they had no idea until he let it slip one day?? the world is our oyster so let’s play around with this idea muah

muse; just your typical muse plot. he’s building a portfolio and he needs someone to insPIRE him. he will randomly have them pose for him in specific places and dressed specific ways so he can paint them. he provides food and beverages and chats to them as he paints. he’ll send them random texts in the middle of the night to meet so be ready.

the homie; this is his ride-or-die. these two get into chaotic and random shit sometimes that will leave people shaking their heads. they always find themselves in a mess but would always bail the other out in a heartbeat. 

more to come when my creativity is at its peak.... 

[misstinfoilhat]

Whumptober 2019 #5: Dragged Away - Bungou Stray Dogs

Chuuya closed his tear-filled eyes and hid behind two chubby, small hands, wiping vigorously at the shameful wetness that spilled down his cheeks. Kouyou lead him calmly yet firmly away from the garden where just moments before, he had briefly socialized with the first kid he'd met since being taken into this strange house (with all of these even stranger rules).

He couldn't understand what they'd done wrong; he was just trying to be nice. He thought that was what you were supposed to do when you met other kids that seemed a little on the outside. Kids that were different. The school he went to before (before the lab and before abilities and before being alone), always told him to include everyone. But, clearly not. Not here. Because here, everything was backward and upside down- so stupid. No one was friendly, no one wanted to play or talk and no one ever seemed happy. Everyone was just cranky all the time and telling him what to do. Or, what not to do. People didn't use to tell Chuuya what to do. People were supposed to be afraid of him. All the other kids he'd met since he got his powers were.

This kid, however, Dazai was his name, was not. He wasn't frightened at all. Actually, he claimed that Chuuya’s powers wouldn't work on him. Hah, they'd see about that! ...if-if they ever got to meet again. It looked like Dazai wasn't supposed to go outside. That eery doctor who would treat them when they got hurt during training sessions had come and taken him. He was mad. Chuuya supposed Dazai seemed to be a bit too injured to be out to play. Half his face was bandaged and his arm was in a sling, and he was walking with a crutch as well. Actually, Chuuya hadn't been able to find an inch of skin that wasn't covered in band-aids or bandages. Chuuya had asked what happened to him, but Dazai only made jokes or tried to create other diversions. Chuuya wondered if it was Dr. Mori who'd done it but didn't dare to aks. And then, Dr. Mori came outside and he finally knew.

It was the first time Chuuya had ever seen him angry. He would usually smile and laugh, and sometimes give him candy if he did good and didn't cry when he got treated. Still, there was always something ominous about him. He always seemed dead tired, or like, his smile never truly reached all the way to the creases of his mouth.

And when he found them he'd grabbed Dazai by the hair and dragged him away. The crutch was still lying scattered in the dirt. There was a long trail from Dazai's broken leg being hauled through the mud and wet grass, and a couple of scratch marks in the spots where the young boy had been able to tear himself away from the violent grasp and tried to crawl to safety.

To Chuuya. And Chuuya had been too scared to help. -            -            -            -            -            -            -            -            -            -         Once inside, Kouyou finally turned towards the disdraught redhead. She layed two manicured hands vigorously on his shoulders and leaned down to address him on his level.

“It's okay. There's no reason to cry,” she said decidedly, but couldn't keep her voice from showing just a sliver of sympathy. “B-but...” Chuuya choked out but was quickly interrupted by the graceious woman.

“No buts. It's not your place to question any of the executives. I need you to remember that.”

The small-statured youngster tried to hold back the drops of salted water that were now pooling freely down his face. He rubbed furiously at his azure eyes. I won't cry I won't cry I won't cry...

“Okay, chibi?” She smiled and cupped his cheek lightly while wiping some escaped tears away with her red-painted thumbs. He whispered something shaky and inaudible, and clutched his shaking body against hers, holding tightly around her narrow shoulders and felt how his heartbeat was beating twice as fast as hers. “I'm sorry sweetheart, I can't understand what you're saying,” she cooed comfortably and patted his back.calmingly. “W-who's wiping Dazai-san's tears away, ane-san?” he sobbed quietly, and burried his face in the pink kimono that always smelled of floral perfume. Smelled nice, smelled safe. Like home, and, maybe even... love. If he was allowed to think that. He wanted to believe that, so best not to ever say it out loud.

And Kouyou said nothing. Chuuya understood that that was answer enough. Because there was no one. Chuuya was all by himself, but Dazai was alone. No one would blow cooling air when he scratched his knees. No one would bring him dry clothes after being caught in the rain. No one would tuck him in and offer reassuring words at the end of a difficult day. At first, Dazai had been curious and awestruck by Chuuya, and Chuuya had felt good. Cool and maybe even important. He'd shown off his powers (well the gravity-one not the other 'cause that one was bad and he wasn't allowed t'was forbidden) and they had played on the swing set. It was really the only thing Dazai was able to play on with the injured leg. Then Dr. Mori dragged him away by the hair and Dazai hadn't done anything. As soon as Mori caught him, he'd just gone limb. Completley blank and unfeeling and he had somehow just shut off. This wasn't the first time something like that had happened. That much was clear even to someone as young and (despite everything and maybe a teeny bit less than other’s his age) naïve as Chuuya. Chuuya didn't know what was happening behind the closed doors of Mori's research room. But he knew he wanted to find out, once he was stronger and could control his powers better. He would rescue Dazai because Dazai was just a kid like him and wasn't supposed to be lonely and broken and afraid.

That evening, as Chuuya comforted himself, lying half asleep, resting his head on Kouyou's lap, he decided what he needed to do.

“Ane-san?” he murmured hoarsely. Small lungs tend to get tired when crying for hours. “Quoi, mon petit chèri?” she answered absentmindedly, and continued reading through her reports.

“I'm going to be an executive one day,” he stated determinedly. “Really?” she mused pleasantly, creaking her heavily painted eyes in a genuine smile. Chuuya nodded, full of spirit.

“Yeah. I'd- I'd make sure that everybody gets tucked in at night,” he explained weakly, before trailing off in pure fatigue. It had been a long day. Kouyou finally put down her notes and stroked his ginger locks carefully. “And why is that, mon ami?” “Because,” Chuuya yawned heavily. “When I didn't have you, I always cried at night,” he explained simply, nuzzling his face into her lap. Kouyou's eyebrows creased worriedly. “...and, I think maybe Dazai-san does that too.” -            -           -           -           -           -           -           -           -           -        

After tucking Chuuya in that night, kissing him on the head and telling him how proud she was of him, Kouyou snuck down and into the infirmary. Mori had gone home for the night, leaving Dazai shackled to the disproportionally large hospital bed. From all the new bandages, she understood that it had been a difficult day for him too.

He was laying soundlessly, motionlessly in the huge bed, likely in a drug-induced sleep. She sat gingerly on his bedside and held her hand on his forehead, feeling soft skin disturbed by rough band-aids and scars. The poor kid hadn't been out of this infirmary since he got here. Not until today at least.

The truth was, that Kouyou had seen the frail raven-haired child limping around in the garden for a couple of minutes before she sent Chuuya outside to play with him. Her trainee would do good to spend some time with kids his own age- and this kid would definitely benefit from it too. It wasn't supposed to turn out like this. Now, she sat back with two traumatized children, one psychologically and one (at least- but probably not only) physically. She hated it. Hated this situation, how it made her feel and what it did to these boys. Because in the end, as much as they were trying to make unfeeling killing machines- they were only children. 6 year-olds. As much as they'd been through, nobody could deny the number of their years.

And in the end, there was only so much she could do- and that was for only one of them. At least, until her coworker would let go of this sick obsession he had with this kid. Her eyes almost overfloated when she noticed the child flinch in his sleep as her hand trailed down the side of his face. The tight knot in her stomach grew even firmer and she had to brace herself not to sob. She had seen too much hurt for her own short lifetime. And she would do whatever she possibly could to ease whatever pain she surrounded herself with wherever she was. She carefully tucked him in and kissed his forehead, telling him goodnight and sleep tight before she returned to her suite and started writing a long and thorough request to the mafia boss, on how and why her's and Dr.Mori's students should start a training schedule together as soon as possible. The request would be re-sent and changed several times the next couple of years until finally, the boss accepted it. Dazai was already broken beyond repair. Chuuya had become a headstrong and (admittedly) short-tempered young man, and she couldn't help but wonder how their relationship would've turned out if she'd been successful at this project a few years earlier.

If she had been more insistent and vocal about it, instead of as careful and shy as she was back then. If she had stood up for a defenseless child and stopped him from being dragged away from his only desperate hope for safety. But at least now, both of them could look after him. Even if he would never admit to it out loud, she knew Chuuya would be the first to unleash hell on whoever tried to harm Dazai, and vise Versa. Because no man would be left behind. Not even the ones who were dragged away.

[paperback-writers-blog1]

The Secret

By ModLennon & Mod McCartney

Rating: T (Little swearing)

Pairing: John/Paul

Summery: Moden AU! John meets a boy with a secret, but will he ever find out what it is?

Chapter: 1/?

Notes: Hey! It’s been a while I know! There have been a lot of things going on. However we have both been working on this story together for a few months and figured the best time to debut it (and return!) would be 6th July, or McLennon day! This is an ongoing project. We have a few chapters already, however we don’t know how many it will be in the end. We also hope to make it an ongoing series as it is quite a light read. Just cute and fluffy McLennon!

xx ModMcCartney

Paul nervously followed the slightly older boy. His dad had arranged this kind of 'play date' with the son of a friend. After moving again, Paul had fallen out of contact with his group of friends. He was too far away to casually meet up and gradually they had cut him out. Besides, currently Jim was very strict about who Paul should be with and for good reason. It was what made Paul nervous to meet new people. He wasn't normal and his greatest fear was people finding out. He was too nervous to really ask Ivan where they were going. Ivan didn't know Paul too well, but he wasn't really nervous or shy around him. He was quite the extrovert, and was excited to bring a new person into his little friend group. He looked at Paul as they walked, feeling a bit bad for the kid. He seemed so nervous.

 "So you play music right? Like... older music?" He asked, genuinely interested. His dad had suggested a few talking points before he met up with Paul to help him break the ice. Paul was pulled out of his thoughts by Ivan talking.

 "O... Oh... yeah... I mean... kinda."

Paul hadn't found many people who enjoyed playing the music he did. He mostly played along with the songs in his room now. Without other people to compare with, it was hard for him to gauge how good he really was.

 "Well Pete and John will love that, they're /obsessed/ with the oldies. Stuart's more into art stuff, he can be a bit pretentious about it all so don't mind him." Ivan warned. He wanted to help Paul as much as he could, he felt bad that he was the new kid without any real friends. "I think John's been trying to get a group together for a while, I dunno if that's something you're interested in, but he bugs us all the time about it." He was happy to chat as they walked. He was headed towards a little cafe that was their usual hangout. It was done up in a sort of retro style, and even had a jukebox with old music. Ivan sped up a bit when the cafe was in sight, excited to see his friends.

 "Well... I... I dunno..."

Paul feared might sound terrible with others. They might sound bad singing together. He didn't want to embarrass himself. He sped up to keep up with Ivan, realising they must be nearly there.

 "It’s just a thought. He'll probably bug you about it if he finds out you play," Ivan shrugged and smiled at him. "He's kinda pushy. I think you'll like Pete the best, he's quiet too."

 As they passed the window a boy with shaggy dark hair banged on the glass, pulling a silly face at Ivan through the glass, making him laugh. A boy with bright blonde hair in the same booth was laughing. The other with dark hair was looking off with a disapproving expression. Paul watched the interaction with wide eyes. He fell behind Ivan a bit, as if he could hide him. But it was stupid, considering he'd have to go into the cafe and sit down. They'd all see him anyway. Still he hung back and almost hid in a corner when Ivan went in to greet his friends. Ivan gave the boy who pulled the face a playful shove when he got inside. After a little laughter, he turned and beckoned Paul closer. He introduced the blonde boy as Pete, the disapproving boy as Stuart, and the other as John. Paul gave a polite little smile and awkward sort of wave. He didn't take a seat, he waited until the others had settled to find a spare space. His dad had given him some money so he figured he could get himself a drink when they each had their place. John had been on the inside of the booth, but after a brief meaningful look with Ivan, and an exasperated sigh from Ivan, he got up to let Ivan on the inside. That left the only open seat right beside John. Ivan looked at Paul again.

 "If he bothers you at all just let me know, I'm not afraid to make him take a lap and think about his actions." His tone was teasing, but his eyes were a bit genuinely apologetic.

He knew from the look John had given him that John found Paul attractive, and the seat switching had been done so John could hit on him. It wasn't the first time something like that had happened. John was unashamed about his sexuality, he simply liked beautiful people. Though he knew nothing about Paul yet, the instant attraction was undeniable. John wanted to know him better. Paul just smiled again in acknowledgement. When it had settled, he stood up to get something.

 "Dya want anythin?" He asked Ivan quietly not wanting to be the centre of attention but he couldn't rudely get something for himself and not offer Ivan.

 "Oh I'm alright for now, thanks!"

Ivan looked genuinely delighted that Paul had asked, more so because Paul was interacting even if just in a small way than anything else. The other three all had some mix of drinks and little pastries and Ivan was happy to munch off of theirs to taste test what was good today before deciding what he wanted. Paul nodded and went off to get himself something. He came back with a tray. He went for tea and had a cup, jug of milk and little teapot. He even treated himself to a piece of cake. If he was eating he had an excuse to not talk. By the time Paul got back, Ivan and Stuart were in a little debate about painting techniques, which Pete was trying to mediate. John had been watching them, quite amused, but shifted his attention as soon as Paul sat down. He looked the boy over again and smiled.

 "So how do you know Ivan?"

 Paul gave John another of those wide eyed looks, shocked he was being directly addressed. He hadn't managed to start eating yet so he didn't even have that excuse.

 "O... our parents are friends..."

 John bit his lip and looked down. /Fuck/ it was ridiculous how cute this kid was! Did he realize how adorable that wide eyed look was? He had to literally look away.

 "That's cool. So are you living here now or just visiting?"

 "We're livin around here now."

 Paul wasn't sure how to talk to John. He kept looking away from him. He distracted himself by making up a cup of tea. John had to get used to that stare, otherwise it would be impossible to talk to Paul. He decided to go for a more playful conversation than serious, as he was much better at that.

 "Ahh nice. So you're gonna be one of us then. I trust Ivan's told you about our initiation process by now? Don't worry too much, you'll have a few months to prepare…"

John made his voice sound a bit grave, as if Paul would be doing something quite unpleasant in order to join their group. He was only kidding, of course, wanting to make Paul laugh. Unfortunately Paul didn't know Johns humour and couldn't read him yet. He froze looking terrified.

 "I... y...ya what?"

 Paul nearly left then. He didn't want to have to do something horrible! His first though was what if they chucked him in water??

That would be disastrous!

He leaned away from John a bit. John saw the terror in Paul's eyes and realized he had fucked up.

"Ah shit, I'm only joking!" He laughed, putting his arm around Paul's shoulder in a shockingly forward move to pull him closer again. "We're just a group of misfits, you don't have ta do anything ta be with the group. Sometimes my bad humour just gets the best of me."

 "O...oh... r... right..."

 Paul tried to relax but it was difficult now he was pressed against a stranger. Still he calmed a bit, realising it was a joke. At one point Paul glanced down as he lost his balance. As he did, a slight blue sheen ran through his otherwise black hair. It was only really visible up close and for a split second. John had been just close enough, intensely admiring Paul, so he noticed what he thought was a flash of blue.

 "Woah, you colour your hair?"

 It was a stupid question, as that wasn't anything weird, but it just sort of slipped out. He hadn't seen any blue before, and was a little taken aback by the sheen of blue. Even now he couldn't see it anymore. Was it just a trick of the light? Paul looked up at John with a confused look.

 "N...no... see... it matches my eyebrows."

 Paul raised his eyebrows a bit so they touched his fringe.

 "Oh.. I just thought I saw…" John reached without thinking to push Paul's hair back a bit behind his ear, checking for blue underneath. There was nothing. He shook his head a bit with an apologetic smile. "I must be losing my mind today," he brushed it off with a laugh. Paul froze. He looked a little scared about John messing around his ears.

 "M...maybe it was a trick of the light?" Paul suggested.

 When John moved back he picked up his drink and had a sip. Paul couldn't take his eyes off John, so captivated his cake lay untouched. There was something about John and as he joked more, Paul relaxed and admired little things more.

 John nodded, "yeah must be." He turned a bit so he was mostly facing Paul, giving him all of his attention. "So tell me more about you, what do you like to do when you're bored, what do you think about right before you fall asleep? What's your favourite band?"

 John wanted... no needed to know everything about Paul.

 "That’s a very strange set of questions." Paul giggled a bit. "I like Elvis. When I'm bored I mostly play music but I draw sometimes. And as for what I think about... I dunno. Depends what I've done today or gotta do tomorrow." Paul raised an eyebrow. "Gemini by the way." He joked, giving John a little jab at all the questions. John nodded with a very serious expression.

 "Ah yes, that's a very Gemini way to answer those questions." Then he grinned, "sorry, I just don’t see the point in small talk, you know. If I wanna know you, then I wanna know you." He explained.

"And those questions give ya enough ta know me?" Paul had a little grin now. He had completely relaxed. "But I'm intrigued. Ya seem ta be an expert on Geminis. So tell me. What d’ya expect?"

 "Mmm you'll be very difficult, but I like a challenge. Probably a bit of a diva, too, right? I bet it takes you an hour just ta get your hair right." He teased a bit, testing the waters for how much he could joke with Paul.

 It was clear by the way he was looking at Paul, already so taken with him, that he wasn't trying to insult him.

 "It naturally falls that perfect! An when ya say diva, it's not just a polite way of saying two faced right?"

 Though John had not seen Pauls bitchy side. He wondered what he'd think. What if he didn't like that side of him? Paul stopped himself. Why was he thinking /that/? They had just met!

 John laughed a bit, "no no no, bein a diva is different. I can handle a diva." He said, as if reading Paul's mind.

 It seemed so forward, but something about Paul made him feel like he'd known him his whole life. He felt so relaxed and comfortable around him already.

"How dya know ya could handle me?" Paul tilted his head a bit.

 He wasn't even stopping to think how he was basically flirting with John. He had never even really considered his sexuality.

 "Do you think I couldn't?" John raised an eyebrow, amused.

John had been leaning closer unconsciously as they spoke. He had the strangest sensation that they were the only two in the world in that moment, the others completely forgotten and blocked out of his mind.

 "I haven't had enough proof ya could." Paul shot back.

 "Fair enough." John quite liked that, Paul didn't seem as nervous as he had initially. "So, Elvis ey?" He switched the topic, pulling back just a tiny bit, a pleased grin on his face.

 Paul gave a little nod. "Well... others too but ya seemed ta only want one answer."

 "Elvis is a good answer. Vinyl or digital?" He looked quite serious about this one.

 "Well I do have a record collection but it's a little difficult to travel with them so I gotta have some on my phone too." Paul explained taking it just as serious.

 John nodded approvingly. "I'd like to see your collection. Can I come over this weekend?" John had no shame inviting himself over.

 Paul suddenly looked shocked again. "Wh... what?"

 "I'm not doing anything Saturday night. Can I come over?"

 Ivan took that moment to jump in. "John you can't just invite yourself to people's homes!"

 Paul was looking nervous. But it was the weekend so... he wouldn't exactly be alone in his house with John.

 "Well... I... I think the whole point of me coming here was for me to make friends right?"

 "So that's a yes?" John grinned brilliantly, completely ignoring Ivan's comment. "I'll need your number then so I can text you to get your address."

 "Why? Can ya not remember it if I told you?" Paul raised an eyebrow.

 "I wouldn't wanna risk it. I've got a shit memory," John explained.

 He wasn't lying, though he did want Paul's number anyways so it wasn't the full truth.

 "Is it that bad?" Paul teased.

 John nodded gravely. "It's horrible, Pam." He joked, hoping that Paul would get his sense of humour.

 "Oh so ya blind to, considerin ya can't even /see/ my gender." Paul was getting used to Johns humour.

 "Hey you can be a boy named Pam. It is 2019, you know, there's not as many lines these days." He grinned again and reached for something in his jacket pocket, "though you are right, I should really get a proper look at you, now that I know such intimate details like your zodiac sign."

John put on a rather large pair of glasses that were a bit reminiscent of Buddy Holly's glasses. Paul was shocked. He never expected John to have glasses, or that he would look so... /attractive/ in them. He suddenly nervous, under Johns gaze, blushing slightly.

 "Do I make you nervous?" John asked softly, a little thrill running through him at the sight of Paul blushing.

 Fuck, he was far too cute. John wasn't used to falling so hard, so fast for someone. He had never felt such instant attraction before. Paul glanced up.

 "No...well...kinda...when ya gotta put on glasses ta analyse me..."

 "Mmm.. well ya shouldn't be.. ya look even better up close in high detail like this. Really you're very pretty." John was a bit more serious again. Paul blushed again, heavier this time.

 "W...well thanks..."

Sure, people had told Paul he was cute before, but somehow hearing it from John meant to much more. He looked up again and in a sudden act of bravery, he put his hands both side of Johns face and rested his fingertips on the arms on his glasses. "May I?" He looked like a curious child. Things like glasses always fascinated Paul. John was a bit shocked, but altogether pleased that Paul didn't seem so shy now. How could he? To John it felt like they'd known each other for years already. Christ, something about this kid was really getting to him.

 "Sure," he said softly. He had a quickly passing thought that he might have trouble ever telling Paul no.

 Paul carefully lifted the glasses off and after studying them for a moment carefully slipped them on his own face. He gave a little sharp intake of breath when he realised just how bad Johns eyesight was then looked up.

 "Well?"

 "They suit you well," John looked him over approvingly with a little grin.

 Paul gave a bashful little smile. He had to take them off though, they did hurt a bit to keep looking through. He carefully put them back on Johns face.

 "I think they're better on you..." His hands lingered on the sides of his face.

 John had to fight back a sudden urge to turn his face and kiss Paul's hand. Christ, this whole interaction felt too intimate for two people who were just meeting for the first time. His eyes locked on Paul's, just staring at him. Paul felt frozen as he stared back at John. He had never felt anything like this before. His heart hammered so hard he was sure everyone would be able to hear it. Even though nothing was being said it was like they were having an entire conversation.

 Johns friends looked at each other not quite sure what to do. In the end Stu leaned over to John.

 "Dya want us ta leave ya alone with ya date or what?" He teased.

 Stu invading the space broke the spell and Paul looked over as if remembering there were others there. His hands fell from Johns face. John looked over, a little pissed that Stuart had interrupted the moment.

 "I would appreciate it if ya fucked off, yeah."

 Ivan frowned, "You're monopolizing all of Paul's time! Let him meet everyone else."

 Paul flushed again realising he had been ignoring the two other boys. That was incredibly rude!

 "S...sorry..." He apologised, scooting away from John a little. John frowned at that.

 Pete, who had been sat back watching gave a little shrug. "Theres obviously somethin going on here. Are you sure you two have never met? Like as kids or anything?"

 "No." Paul said rather quickly. So quickly Pete raised his eyebrow. He sounded so sure.

 But who remembered every person they ever met as a /child/? John hadn't really thought of that possibility.

 "Are ya sure? I mean ya never visited family here or anything?" Paul just seemed so... familiar.

 "No. We haven't met." Paul said again with just as much certainty.

 John hadn't been in his year at school. They were the only kids Paul really hung around with. He didn't spend holidays around the home.

 John shrugged, guessing Paul must be right if he was that sure.

 The others looked completely baffled. Pauls accent told them he had never strayed far from Liverpool, but he was so certain... for now they left it.

 Stu was the first to stand up.

 "I gotta get goin. I wanted to swing by the art shop before it closed."

 Of course as much as Stu wanted to hang out with his friends he just as equally wanted to be home painting. Pete also said he was supposed to be back before dinner as he had relatives visiting. Ivan frowned.

 "I really should be getting Paul home. I have to get back too."

 Honestly Ivan just didn't want to play third wheel in whatever John and Paul had going on. Paul really didn't want to leave John. He felt like the time was far too short.

"Well...I still have this cake..." he said weakly trying to prolong the time with John.

 "I can take him home. Is that alright?" He turned back to Paul. "I don't want ya ta waste your cake." He was more than happy to latch onto any excuse to stay with Paul longer.

Ivan paused for a moment. Jim might be angry he left his son in the care of a stranger to him. But he knew John. And while he could be immature he wasn't exactly dangerous.

 "Alright." He finally relented. "I'll see ya some time."

 Pauls heart fluttered as he realised he was about to spend some time alone with John.

Chapter 2

[trialtribandtestimony]

His Mercy

A lot of the time we find ourselves asking, "is there really hope for that person?". Usually not thought aloud, but we can see someone so deep in despair it's almost impossible to imagine them any other way. When I look back on my life, that's how I view where I was at.

What was my life like before Christ? Well defining what that means is difficult. Honestly my story starts even before my birth. I was conceived out of wedlock and I was born to my mother when both of my parents were 19. A wedding was set in place before my birth but was canceled at the last second by the grace of God. My mother had been made aware of how disgusting a man my father, Michael, really was and didn't even want him in the room when I was born quite understandably.

Of course when I was born many a court case took place. My last name, custody rights, and etc. My mother was genuinely scared for my safety, along with my grandparents, because my father already was a drug user. The judge decided that, and he stated, my father would "grow out of it", and granted him visitation. The judge was wrong, and this decision has affected my life ever since. But I believe that this decision was not an accident, I don't believe God's plan is an accident at all. He works all things for good.

Despite the chaos of events when I was a baby, my early childhood years were not anything particularly bad. All of my special talents started emerging, I loved to act, sing, and paint. I had a vast inner world which still exists. I was quite outrageous and special to my family, out of a difficult situation I felt like a blessing. I would sing to strangers in the grocery store and capture the heart of everyone I met. I was saved at four years old, my grandmother genuinely believing I knew what I was asking for and I believe she was right. That's why my testimony really isn't about my life "before" Christ. He died on the sins for all of the world, my name was written in the book of life before the earth was set in motion, Jesus was always there because according to Calvinism (a philosophy I heavily agree with) he knew the decision I would make to follow him. Unfortunately tragic events would make me question that decision in a few years to come.

When I became about 8 years old it seemed like everything started hitting me at once from every possible angle. My mother would get divorced from her husband whom was the father of my sister. My third grade teacher noted to my mother that every-time id come home from Michael's house I would become extremely pale. I physically started to become extremely thin. At this age my father's controlling tendencies consumed him and increasingly became worse. He would force me to watch demonic horror movies, I'd cry because of how traumatizing it would be and tell my mom, but unfortunately she didn't have much control over those things which terrified me. My mom was always my superhero, and realizing that not even my mom could protect me rocked my world. I believe this is the time period he started using heavier drugs, but many memories are fuzzy and still blocked out to this day. This is when his behavior became worse, but the true intentions and twisted behavior started to appear. He pawned all of my Christmas presents, begged people for money on the street, stole children's bikes for drug money

How did I cope with feeling utterly powerless? I became obsessed with weather. I would check the weather on my computer every day before school. I recall writing a goodbye letter to my mother during a storm in third grade one day because I genuinely thought I was going to die. I was consumed in fear and weather was the only way my child brain could rationalize it.

Another difficulty at this age was that I had undiagnosed ADHD. I have type two, which is inattentive, which means I'm not hyperactive, just deeply consumed in my own world at all times. I have always felt I was on autopilot about 75% of my life. A combination of both adhd and anxiety meant I failed to thrive at school. I had to sit out during recess every day because I couldn't do my homework. That's when I remember first feeling depression in my life. So because I had to sit out, and visitation every other weekend with my father, I was not socialized at all. In fact, when I was at my father's house I wasn't allowed to even play with my cousins. I remember looking out the window crying and crying because I was not allowed to go into the backyard on the trampoline. Ever. I still suffer with social integration, I've always wanted many friends and to talk to people, and I know what to say but it always comes out odd to me. I missed out on fun adventures and bonding with kids my age, and that lead to me never really having any friendships, honestly to this day I'm still not sure how to make friends which is horribly embarrassing to me and always was. The one time I was allowed to have a birthday party at Michael's house, a few friends from my elementary school came to a pool party I had. We jumped on the trampoline in our bathing suits, as Michael pulled out a random camera to take pictures. My step mom told him it was odd but he wouldn't stop taking pictures of me and my friends.

This would continue into middle school, when the abuse also started to happen. At first in my elementary years it was psychological. "Always make sure to lock your doors, someone will break in and kill you", I can still hear my father say over and over. Forcing me to watch the lovely bones, a movie about a girl getting kidnapped and molested as I panicked watching it as a young child in absolute fear. Now he became physically and sexually abusive as well as psychological. What went along with this was people being invited to friend's sleepovers which I was NEVER allowed to attend, and watching other kids my age form groups as I sat alone for lunch every day.

Around this time I recall starting to self harm, I didn't even really know what it meant at that point. I would get a comb and scrape my arms with it just to relieve intense fear I experienced. I had frequent stomach aches, not knowing what the concept of anxiety even was. I was skinny, pale, and always felt sick. I barely ever ate. My two younger siblings were born and he threatened to throw them down the stairs, and often neglected them. When my stepmom would leave for work I had to change their diapers and feed them. If I didn't, Michael would let them sit in their filth all day. One of my brothers developed selective mutism from the abuse and fear caused by Michael. I tried to care for them as much as a 10 year old could.

In this time period, about 6-7th grade I remember Michael using drugs and alcohol clearly. He would talk to himself while intoxicated and make absolutely no sense. He would claim to see demons, which may have actually been considering his involvement with psychics and satanic movies and music and necrophilia he watched. This is when the actual event of molestation happened but I will save the gory details on that. He would often tell my stepmother at the time odd and inappropriate remarks about my appearance as I grew older, and that I would grow up to be a prostitute. One time I wore skinny jeans and he talked to me for hours about how inappropriate that was and what boys at school would think. I was not allowed to wear shorts that were above my knees or any colorful clothing.

At this point I found a youth group I loved. I was supposed to see Michael on Wednesday nights, but I told him I just wouldn't go. He'd have to move it. So he demanded I see him Tuesday AND Thursday instead. I said fine, because this feeling I got from God is something I'd never had before in my life. I remember listening to "How He Loves" and bawling my eyes out as my father sent threatening texts to my mom. I brought a friend that night, and somehow he found her parent's phone number and called them saying that my mother took us to church on his visitation time. Because of his psychotic actions she was no longer allowed to hang out with me. But just in that chaotic moment and listening to the song "How He Loves", That became God's love song to me, and he has played it during significant times in my life ever since. God gave me this comfort that I could cling to, a comfort of hymns and nursery rhymes and bible stories like I had as a child. I experienced His absolute precious love which is just inexplicable.

During this time the abuse increasingly became worse with the drug use. He would drive me and my siblings around drunk in the middle of the night. He would stalk me as I slept and never really leave me alone. He would walk into the bathroom and stay in there while I showered. At this point I had developed severe depression and anxiety. All I could think about was escape. I escaped with boyfriends and art and music. I had one boyfriend who my father found out was African American, and called his number leaving a message of racial slurs on my phone to his number. A phone my mother bought me that he stole from me when I tried to bring it with me to his house.

My mom called CPS (again) when I told her I'd kill myself, (at age 11), if I ever had to see Michael again. There was not enough evidence to support a case so it was dropped. I prayed and prayed, and mentors in my life had prayed for me as well. This may sound odd but I could feel certain times where they currently prayed for me. And then, a miracle happened. Michael signed over his rights.

My family on his side no longer talked to me. During this time my ex stepmom divorced Michael and took my two brothers and had a restraining order filed. My family on that side didn't support her, and I was not in contact with her yet, she was forced to live in a shelter for a while because of the absolute neglect on my father's side of the family. Luckily now we got back in contact and she is my absolute best friend and I get to see my brothers whenever I please. But back to the fact that they divorced- Michael had an arrest record made public online of his drug use. It was getting worse. He became homeless, voluntarily living on the streets, but still using payphones to harass my mother and ex stepmom. He would steal pictures from my mother's Facebook of me and say, "she has my eyes" and post them online, which still haunts me. He would threaten to break in or harm us, and he threatened to kill his own parent's dog. His mother tried to get in contact with me, she told my mom that he got into an accident, looking for sympathy or something. The accident was that he overdosed on drugs. They claimed he fell off a bridge, but later confirmed to me it was drug related

The one friend I did have was my cousin, who to this day has no communication with me. She was my only friend when I had none. Even after my mom trying to make contact, and seeing them at my grandfather's funeral, no one believed my story of abuse.

I thought my pain was over. I was FREE. I could forever live with my mom and go to church and have friends. Unfortunately it just didn't turn out that ideally.

I still had depression and anxiety. It didn't go away. I still didn't know how to make friends, I started to become bullied and changed schools frequently. Now the suicidal ideation would come to play at age 13-14. I still believed in God but I just felt so hopeless. I believe the only reason I never fully attempted suicide was because the Holy Spirit left this lingering light in my heart. It was inexplicable, but it was there. Something just told me to look up to the heavens, no matter how dim and dreary the sky may be.

Despite this hope my mind was broken. I started my 9th grade year in an outpatient school, where I met my therapist who has been a gift from God. This school was for high risk suicidal adolescents, no phones were allowed and we were patted down on the daily. It was quite dreary but here I learned about coping skills and boundaries which were crucial for me to learn, I still didn't get the concept for a few years and honestly I'm still improving on these things. I was quite codependent on boyfriends I had and didn't know how to talk myself down from panic attacks that produced frequent vomiting and dizziness almost daily.

After outpatient I went to high school, but not much changed. I felt so alone, even with the few friends I did have. I felt like no one really still understood me, I felt suicidal again and went to inpatient. This honestly didn't change much for me, and I had to go to inpatient again not long after. It's basically just 24 hour supervision for high risk patients.

I just couldn't cope with feelings of isolation and not receiving the love I would find in Christ. I hopped from relationships which made me feel even worse, although I regret nothing and I learned quite a lot, some of which as a teen produced lifelong friends. I started to hurt other people, something I NEVER wanted to do in my wildest dreams. I didn't even know who I was anymore.

I started experimenting with different things and engaging in risky behavior. I just kept trying to fill the hole in the pit of my stomach. On a bad trip I had with a drug I tried, I had to go to the hospital. I never was addicted to drugs but recreationally tried things at parties which I shouldn't have dabbled with, but God used it to bring me back to him. All I remember with this trip is feeling so far from God and so so scared. No thoughts went through my head and I thought I would have a seizure. My mind was completely blank. When the ambulance arrived I sobbed as I called my grandfather and family to meet me. Their disappointment was the worst thing I would ever face in my life. The still loved me, but they were heartbroken. In the ride to the hospital I cried out to the EMT, "is God going to forgive me?" It's all I could ask as I sobbed and violently shook. He told me God will always love me in response, and I will always be grateful for the sensitive nature of that man, I could almost start bawling while even writing this. The sedative they gave me was supposed to make me forget but I never forgot that man's kindness.

You would think this would revert me right back to God but not entirely. I faced YEARS of abuse, and it would take years to know who I even really was, being allowed to be myself. I never tried anything like that and will never again, but then codependency reared it's ugly face into my life. Luckily in this time period though I still searched for God and prayed to Him. I read a book called The Shack which forever changed my view on Him, (highly recommend it.). I felt the Holy Spirit in my life but I couldn't let go of the control I needed. So what did I do? I ran.

First I ran to a new school. It was an alternative school but you could go at your own pace. For once I could do work in the way my brain functioned and I made A's, and graduated at 16 years old. I then went to cosmetology school, swicthed schools again, and finished it out even though the environment there was extremely toxic and self-indulgent in an appareance and narcissistic way that I started to loathe. During this time my paternal grandfather passed away. I attended the funeral along with my stepmother and brothers, mother and sister. We weren't allowed to sit with the family during the funeral. My paternal grandfather was extremely racist and homophobic, and also a Baptist Sunday school teacher. The whole funeral they bragged about how godly he was. I just wanted to shout "if only you knew the vile disgusting secrets of this family!" But God gave me the grace to be respectful during this time, so I was silent. When my father was notified of his father's passing, he stated "I'm hungry. I want Arby's." Shortly after the funeral my paternal grandmother took me out for my 18th birthday to Chili's. I thought this was a time to reconcile, so I accepted trying to give her the benefit of the doubt. During the dinner she tried to claim it was my fault Michael turned out this way, and it was horrible of me to not speak to them before my grandfather's passing and not to see Michael after the "accident". She said a phrase I've heard all throughout my life. "You need to forgive and move on." How could I possibly move on from a thorn that grew with me as I aged? This pain had become who I was. But I told her the honest truth. "I did forgive him long ago. I wish no harm upon him. It's just unsafe for me to speak to him." She couldn't grasp the concept of forgiving at a distance, which is something very important to learn, and it helped me move on in a sense, but some tragedies cannot just be forgotten. After that she has tried to make contact with me, but I have not spoken to her. This decision was not because I have any ill intentions towards her, I really hope she gets help. I just can't be the one to help her learn about boundaries, and she shows no remorse for her involvement and defense of Michael. I don't need an apology but I feel that would be necessary to move on in a relationship with her, just so I know she wouldn't be toxic for my health and well-being.

I moved out of Texas to Colorado with my parents. I felt alone, so I ran to Chicago at age 18 with a man I barely knew. Then something just clicked. I will never get this love and attention I seek from a human being, it's just not possible. I moved back to Texas and jumped into another relationship even with knowing this information. I wanted to date around but on the first date I fell absolutely in love.

This person often ignored me and abandoned me for days, yet all I could do was try to make him love me for so long. I would sit in my room and sob. Who could help me? Not a hospital, not a drug, not even my own family or myself. After he broke up with ME, (thank God because I wouldn't have broken up with him at the time), I started going back to church and I found a job. I became a hard worker and just started to seek God and pray everyday. What's to lose? My skepticism and cynical heart started to burn off like deadwood.

This job became extremely stressful, so I sought God even more (along with returning to see my therapist who I saw for years). One night after a particularly stressful Wednesday afternoon a call was made to the altar, and something just told me to go. I asked my grandma to go with me though because I was too scared to go alone, which she did. I started sobbing because once again, God spoke to me. "Why don't you trust me like you did when you were a child? Don't you know I will hold you? Just lean on me, I won't disappoint you.". I figured hey I had nothing to lose, and decided to take that risk.

I met a pastor at my church named Dr.Marti, and started many amazing friendships as I was prayed over after a service of other's testimonies. Dr.Marti stayed many prophetic things about me that night and wanted me to take part in Bethesda School Of Ministry, which I desperately wanted to do, but was unable to because of my job. Then came a blessing in disguise- I was let go from the job. When I was let go I asked God "what am I supposed to do?, I know you work all things for good and this has some kind of meaning but what do I take from this?" , and I heard a clear voice state "remain in me". Odd. Not a way I'd word something in my head, quite frankly I didn't understand. The next day on my Bible app a scripture I didn't recall every reading was John 15:4 "Remain in me, and I will remain in you. No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me." Needless to say I was shocked. I see now I lost this job in order to take part in ministry school at Bethesda while I could. I learned not only how to minister to others, but these codependent tendencies were restored into learning about healthy boundaries and how to be happy AND alone with God. (Also confirmed by Dr.Marti who stated she had a feeling God wanted me to be like a nun for a while. I laughed because if only she knew how true I knew that was.) So many behaviors in my life started to change, along with perspectives. I became patient, enduring, developed a sound mind, and fruits of the spirit. I learned not how to be normal, but how to find my unique identity in Jesus. The raw, blunt yet sensitive, fighting-for-the-underdog, intellectual, philosopher, artistic yet gentle and kind person I was designed to be.

In the school of ministry one night I remember asking God to heal me, to make me who I was meant to truly be at last. I love God's sense of humor. Dr.Marti after giving a message on healing that Sunday night called all of the students to pray over anyone who needed it. I was shaking in my flats. I'd NEVER done that before. As soon as she called us, I heard a voice from God which made me laugh in awe. He said "You will be healed not by being anointed with oil, but by anointing others with oil." This symbolism showed that when I take the first step to seek God He will reward me and I will be made available to find His presence even more, which heals and delivers. I prayed for an elderly man, spilled a little too much oil on his face as it almost dripped in his eye, and smudged it in with my thumb sheepishly and cracked up about it later, but it was such a sweet moment.

So through God healing me, what's changed? Well, I still have depression and anxiety, and adhd. Could God deliver me from it? Yes. Will He? Maybe. But if it's in His will I carry these things so I serve others and am reminded to think about myself less and others more, than these things will remain until I'm given my new body and these illnesses did with my old body. However, my daily vomiting panic attacks turned into at most bi-monthly anxiety attacks, and suicidal ideations turned into bouts of random melancholy. After being told I functioned at a rate of 15% out of 100% at a mental hospital, and being told be a psychologist he's surprised I still function in society and haven't lost my sanity is pretty astonishing. When I told the psychologist my backstory he was amazed I was still standing, and quite frankly so am I. I believe with my whole heart it's only by the grace of God, and the help of my unconditional loving and supporting friends and family. I have a new job at the church daycare which I love, and I would like to pay off cosmetology school debt and start college soon to continue healing other's through Jesus's name and prayer like He called me to do in more abstract means like psychology, reaching every kind of person there is, innocent children or addicts and thieves.

I was promised life more abundantly and that promise was fulfilled more than I could ever imagine. God gave me impossible endurance, yet didn't make my heart cold and cynical despite all of life's circumstances, I give all glory to Him for always keeping me close and loving me no matter what. I don't know where we'll go together in the future, but as long as God is with me I will march on, praising Him for his one million "second" chances and grace. I feel that my "rebirth" was more of a process. It didn't happen overnight, but over a long stretch of time. I feel I have the freedom to actually chose who to be and what I want to do, and I am so grateful for this new chapter in my life.

[evakfanficsrecs]

Hallaaa! Are there any new humor fics you enjoyed and can recommend? Thanks a lot

Hello lovely!

I know this has been sitting in our inbox for ages and I sincerely apologize for that, but hopefully this ‘little’ humor rec list will be enough to guide you over the draught before our proper Christmas masterpost!

*

It Only Takes a Taste (When You Know It’s Good) by shakespeareandsunshineSummary: It would be bad enough if it was just some mystery coworker stealing meals from the office fridge. Then Isak could hate their anonymous ass in peace. But no, Isak has a very good idea who the culprit is. And seeing the villain in the breakroom every day, smiling at Isak like he has nothing to apologize for was testing Isak’s very limited patience. And also probably his self-control, although for an entirely different reason. 

TOW The Blackout by bri_nessSummary: “I’m stuck in an elevator with Hot Neighbour.”

the one where even is extra by bbyfruitSummary: In which Even tries way too hard, Isak is just trying to deliver some damn pizza, and the Balloon squad are best bros.

dear, don’t you be nervous by chasingflowerSummary: Sometimes, Isak wishes he could just keep his mouth shut. It would solve a lot of his problems. (Or, Isak tells Eskild that he’s dating Even, the boy he likes, but hasn’t said any more than ten words to. It’s not the best situation.)

it’s kind of a funny story by dobriksSummary: “This is so weird” the guy said in an apologetic tone, “But– I, hm, can I use your bathroom?” “What?”

Come and paint the world with me tonight by LostInAdmirationSummary: “If he had been smart and sober enough to say no, he wouldn’t be stood in a church he definitely shouldn’t be in, wearing a suit that was far too tight and a rainbow coloured bow-tie.”

Got You Carved Into My Soul by i_once_wrote_a_dream Summary: “Isak, babe. This is me. This is the costume that speaks to my soul.”

Let’s Let Things Come Out Of The Woodwork by ultimatelawrenceSummary: Okay so maybe Even’s crush is becoming obsessive. Maybe he’s asked around a bit too much about Isak Valtersen. Maybe he shouldn’t be going to parties he has no real interest in every weekend just so he can look at Isak from afar. Maybe Isak shouldn’t be so damn cute then.

The Worst Soulmate by kaleidxscopeSummary: soulmate /ˈsəʊlmeɪt/ noun: 1. a person ideally suited to another as a close friend or romantic partner. * Well, Isak hates his.

just a silly phase by thekardemommeSummary: Isak and Even don’t like each other. (Also: Isak and Even play 7 Minutes in Heaven.) Time heals all wounds.

I’m Always Here by nofeartinaSummary: “Did you know that Even is working this summer? At that pool at the Plaza?” Jonas says.Isak actually sits up in excitement at this. “Fuck yeah!” Oh, a pool. Actual water they could go swimming in and cool down. And also, Even.

you’re the glitter in the dark by piccadillySummary: Isak is a witch. The universe wants Even to find out. Or, five times Isak almost revealed his magic, and the one time Even revealed his.

S-P-A-C-E by PingviiniSummary: “What on earth is this, Isak!” Eskild shouts through the music as he steals Isak’s phone from his hands making the young man in question jump. “I leave you for two seconds and you are already giving in. No. Shame on you. You hold your head, baby gay. We are sad and angry so he is blacklisted for the night.” Isak tries to reach for his phone intending to give a piece of his mind to Even but is unsuccessful as Eskild fights Isak like his life depends on it and ends up shoving the Iphone somewhere he knows Isak won’t dare to take it. “Serr?!” Isak gasps as Eskild slips the phone to his boxers and then shrugs his shoulders innocently to inform Isak that he had basically begged for it, so ultimately it was Isak’s own fault his phone was now in Eskild’s boxers.

I Ducking Love You by wyoheartsmusicSummary: “MISSED CONNECTION - You were the boy sitting on this park bench, I was the guy fighting a duck for my pants and losing.” * Or, Even has a disagreement with a duck and Isak and Even fall in love along the way.

And straight on ‘til morning by diamondjacketSummary: He’s searching the lineup for a glimpse of an Andorian’s telltale blue skin, when someone else catches his eye. Someone whose skin is decidedly not blue. No…this guy’s skin is pale, with a delicate pink pallor that matches Even’s own. His hair is equally soft-looking and fair, his mouth wet and red and bow-shaped, his eyes a deep, earthy green. He’s tall—nearly as tall as Even—and he’s lean, though he fills out his Science blues rather…enticingly. He’s beautiful.

Something Wicked by SabeleySummary: Attention residents: This Halloween will be one to die for. For the next four weeks, Nissen Hall will be taking part in a role-play murder mystery extravaganza. Do you think you can figure out whodunnit before time runs out? Or will you be the next to die? All interested victims can sign up below. * Or the one where Isak and Even are each convinced the other is a fake murderer, but they are for real turned on by it anyways.

pool full of liquor by thekardemommeSummary: Isak gets drunk and runs away from his friends, and Even seizes the opportunity to be his knight in shining armor. May as well be Shakespeare.

Us, but we’re… by TeatrolleySummary: “You think we do this in every universe?” he whispers, and Even looks down at him to smile.“Yeah,” he says, “I think in one of them we meet in this way,” and just like that it’s begun. * Or: Even tells Isak stories.

Into the Night, With You by cuteandtwistedSummary: “I know it sounds dumb. But I didn’t go to a foreign country, and I didn’t have a wild summer romance with some hot stranger, and I don’t even think I went swimming or clubbing. I just sat here and felt like shit all summer,” said Isak. “Uhm. Let’s fix that.” * Or: a drunk Isak runs into a strange boy with perfect hair who insists on fixing his boring summer in one night. Alternatively: Even spots a drunk Isak and simply MUST take care of him. Aka the Strangers to Lovers one-shot.

Under the Mistletoe by evak1isakSummary: Isak has a crush on Eva’s best friend, Even, but he’s too stubborn to recognize it. With Christmas coming, Eva has a plan to set the two boys up.

& If that’s not enough, here is our Humor tag with some older recs!

Have a nice day ♥

–A

[jj-lynn21]

Mary Poppins Prequel: Ch 5 The end is just the start of a new beginning

ch 1 When we were just a little Lass and Lad Ch 2 destination cloud 9 Ch 3 Somewhere on cloud 9 Ch 4 where ever the magic may take us Warning: fluff, romance, smut,  

Storm clouds ride in from the North. Winds pick up blowing what is left of the fall leaves off the trees in Long Ago. It is enough to make me giddy with excitement. And that is how one of the last adventures Bert and I took started. I ran to his home with my bag packed for an overnight stay as soon as the fever pitch of the wind was starting to breeze the right way.

Bert laid across his parent's porch swing. His legs extended well past the arm. His head on a pillow on the other arm. His arms were crossed on his chest. Eyes were closed as he napped very comfortably. That was until I ran up the porch steps to shake him awake.

"Bert it is time," I was excited and frantic. "It is time to go."

Bert opened one eye, "Time for what?" He closed his eye and tried to stretch but the knuckles of his hands hit the side of the house. He sat up shaking his braised knuckles. "What is going on Mary. I was taking a peaceful nap on this blustery day."

"Indeed it is," My smile was wide. "Now how about that adventure you promised me to London. The winds are perfect to get us all the way there. And you know what I promised when we get there, dear Bert."

He jumped up suddenly and I jumped back with a giggle. "Indeed I do." He picked me up spinning me around. He put me down when he got to the bottom of the stairs. "shall we, my dear Mary?" He grabbed an umbrella opening it for the wind to take us.

I grabbed around his waist my bag in hand. He put his free arm around my shoulders. The wind lifts, lifts, lifts, us up passed the first layers of clouds. We pass right over cloud nine when London town comes into view.

"Shall we check into Brown's Hotel and then take in some culture?" Bert suggested when we landed behind a cherry tree in the park.

"As you wish, my dearest Bert." I tapped him on the cheek and put the umbrella in my overnight bag.

We walked through the park, like many other couples, on the day that blew winds like mad before calming to perfect sunshine with a subtle breeze. After getting a room at Brown's, more walk through the city hand and hand ending up at The Tower of London.

I snap my fingers when we sit for a spell. "There we go. Much more my style." Bert's art appears on the wall.

"Thank you, Mary," He chuckled. "But I'm not good enough for the likes of this place."

"Sure you are Bert." I smile as people crowded in front of us to see the new works of art. "The public loves you already and they don't even know you."

"We should get out of here before there are questions about the new paintings." Bert escorted me out of the museum quickly as more people gathered including the museum curator who could not explain where the new art came from.

The afternoon disappeared into the evening. We found a restaurant with a bar. It was crawling with people. Just what we were looking for to have a good time before our adventure would have to come to an end. I encouraged Bert to down some shots and drink some cocktails that we never even heard of before. These concoctions made me even becomes giddy and more flirtatious.

Bert moved his hips against mine as we danced to a slow song a DJ starts playing. "I think we should try many different things here in London."

"Sure," he huskily murmured in my ear.  His arms holding me to him tightly as his pelvis grinds against mine dancing seductively. I loved it. "I'll settle the bill and we can see where the night goes. "

Bert goes to close out the tab. When he starts back to claim claim me he sees my me talking to my new friend Michael. I couldn’t help touching Michael’s broad chest. Then Bert approached and put his arm around me obsessively

."Shall we retire for the evening," Bert suggests. The men stared each other down. It was fascinating.  I think Bert knew at that point I had gotten him into something he might not be able to handle. But he did handle it splendidly.

"Look boys how about the three of us have a go back at the Brown's Hotel?" I couldn’t my Cheshire cat grin.

"I'm game if you are, Bert was it?" Micheal licked his lips looking at me ready to be devoured by her if that how his night went.

"Are you sure Mary?" Bert asked hoping it was all a joke that I wanted him to share our night together.

"I am quite positive, I assure you," I stood between them my hands slapped their plump behinds. "Shall we get a move on boys?"

Well, it was an unexpected night. That led to some unexpected consequences. And Bert took the blame even after I was the impetuous one. everyone knew my indiscretion within six months when I could no longer hide the bump. The counsel including our parents, made a decision.

"Bert you took the young lady, Mary, to London without telling anyone, is this true?" The whole counsel glared at him while my father spoke.

Bert swallowed hard. I could see his Adam's apple bob. "Yes, it was all my doing other than the deed itself. That is Mr. Bank's child, I am certain."

"Mary, what you have to say?" My Father chastised. "Is it true you had intercourse with a stranger?"

We didn't dare tell them Bert was also there ravaging me. Both men were so playful. Trying to satisfy my needs both at once while satisfying their own. It was like a competition to see who could make me squeal the loudest as the bed creaked and the neighbors pounded on the wall or perhaps it was the bed pounding. I have no idea.

I just remember the build-up and Bert reaching around from behind me rub on my clit  as Michael moaned burying himself deep to that one innermost spot that made magic.  It was the most disconcerting pleasure I have ever had or ever will have at this point. They filled me from either side and my world will never be the same again.

"It is true, Father." I held my head high as I also laid hands on my growing bundle of joy. "It wasn't all Bert's idea counsel. I wanted to have a good time, so I did."

They all gasped like I said the most atrocious thing that a lady could ever say to them. I get not everyone chased after pleasure as I did, but I refuse to believe it is a bad thing. Still, because of archaic practices, Bert was banished to London to watch over the Banks family from afar. 

My parents went to talk to Michael's parents. by this time Micheal was settling down with Rita. Time moves so much faster in London.  I was told he had forgotten all about me. My parents used a bit of magic so Micheal and Rita would raise baby George as their own.

I of course was banned from London until a little note for a Nanny breezed into my possession from my grandchildren. And I think we all know how that went.

[tnystrk-exe]

Surprise Three

Edward Nygma x reader

Warnings: Pet names, language, probably daddy at some point

The first thing you had done was clear out your bank account, next you went the the hospital. Arguably it was a risky decision, but you couldn’t take the chance of giving Ed anyway to find you.

You had never felt a more intense feeling of relief until the doctor said that your child should be okay.

Now to figure out where to go. Edward was an incredibly clever person and that probably meant you couldn’t stay in one place for long. Star City was all the way in California, you figured you could lay low there, just until the baby was born.

(Ed/Eddie P.o.v.)

I woke up on the floor. It should have been clue enough that something went wrong, but the throbbing pain in my head made it impossible to think clearly.

“YN? What happened?”

There was no memory for me after leaving the GCPD and YN and I talking about our child. Standing, I took in my surroundings. Only it wasn’t the usual neat and organized abode I’ve grown used to. Everything was out of place, glass shattered around, and the drawers seemed to have been raided.

“What did you do?” I asked, panic rising in my voice as I took everything in.

“What did we do,” the voice in my head corrected, “We got rid of the whore. Hey Eddie, how many babies does it take to paint a fence?”

“You killed them!” I started to search around the apartment for my dead family.

“Sadly, the bitch hit us with a bat. On the bright side she won’t fuck with us ever again.”

I rubbed the tears out of my eyes, the fact that they were alive provided me with hope. It would be simple to track them down.

“Really? You want to live with a little bastard and slut for the rest of your life?”

“Stop calling them names. Why the hell are you so awful? They’re the only people in this world that give a shit about us. I’m going to learn to control you,” Eddie vowed.

“Good luck with that,” Ed chuckled, “Never gonna happen.”

(Reader p.o.v) -time skip- “Mommy!” Your son jumped up and down on your bed, attempting to wake you up.

“Benji,” you groaned, hiding your head under the covers, “Five minutes.”

“But mommy,” he whined, “I finally solved my rubix cube. See?”

Getting out from under the covers, you looked at the toy in his hands. Sure enough it was completely solved. “How’d I get such an intelligent son?” You asked, looking at him lovingly.

The pregnancy had been fine for the most part. Minor bumps here and there but your doctor had said they were to be expected given the circumstances. It was difficult dealing with the pregnancy on your own. There had been many times when you wanted to go back to Eddie. The only thing stopping you was his darker self, being with Eddie simply wasn’t worth your child’s life. It certainly didn’t help that Benjamin was a spitting image of Edward and had the kindness to match. It was easy to forget anything about Ed being involved.

“You just got really really lucky. But I am too! Because my mommy is the bestest ever!” Benjamin exclaimed, moving to cuddle close to you.

“Thank you kiddo. You know mommy loves you, right?”

Benjamin nodded against you happily. “Mommy? Can I have ghost pancakes since it’s Halloween?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“Can I eat them in my Riddler costume?” He asked giving you puppy eyes.

Benjamin was obsessed with Riddler, much to your dismay. He liked that the villain was based puzzles and such. It didn’t help that strangers would voice his likeness to the man. Obviously, he just had to be the Riddler for Halloween. Of course you didn’t want to disappoint your son so you swallowed your pride and agreed. That meant you spent the better part of the month making him a homemade suit, picking the exact shades of green and purple that Ed would have.

“Yeah. Just don’t dirty it.”

“Thank you!” Excited he ran to his room to put on his suit.

You made your way to the kitchen to get started on breakfast. The iPod was set on shuffle filling in the science. When Teddy Bear came on you were quick to skip the song, it just held too many bad memories. (EH?! I’m fucking rad admit it)

Once breakfast was finished you both took a seat on the couch and ate as Nightmare before Christmas played on the tv.

It was fucking delightful that Halloween was on a Saturday. You didn’t have to worry about school or work. That meant Benji got to have all your attention for the day. The day was filled with board games, Mario Kart, and cookies. Finally it was time to go trick or treating with his best friend, who had dressed as Batman.

Three hours and a full bucket of candy later you returned to your home. Benjamin had fallen asleep in the backseat. Carefully you took him into your arms, balancing a candy pail and the small boy in one arm as you opened the door. You turned on the light before walking towards Benjamin’s room.

“Momma?” Benjamin yawned, sleepily nuzzling his face against your neck. “Why’s the Riddler in our house?”

You turned on your heel, sure enough you met Edwards stare. “I don’t know, baby. Let’s put you to bed and I’ll sort it out.”

Edward stood silent, a smirk playing on his lips when he saw the costume your son was wearing.

“Mommy!” He whined, starting to wake up, “But he’s my favorite!” Benjamin managed to squirm out of your arms and he started to run toward the man.

“Benjamin Nashton YLN!” You quickly grasped his wrist, “Do as your mother says and get to your room.” Benjamin took a look at your face before stomping off angrily. Well as angry as a five year old could be.

“Really? Benjamin, I like. I’ve no problems with that whatsoever. But Nashton? Hardly think that’s appropriate.”

“You don’t get to have a say on what I named my son. What are you doing here? Got bored putting Gotham through hell?” You studied him, the hidden gun you had wasn’t too far out of reach if you needed.

“I came to take back what was mine,” he replied, racking his eyes over your body. It seemed like Edward had finally found a mix between Eddie and Ed. Ed’s vulgarity was certainly present in his looks but Eddie’s calmness took over his body.

“Nothing here belongs to you.”

“Are you sure? Because if I remember correctly, my son and my kitten,” as he spoke he pointed in the respective directions.

“Go to hell, Nygma. You ran us out. Besides don’t you have your whores, Echo and Query?” You ignored the shiver the old nickname gave you.

“Aw, did the my little kitten miss daddy?” Edward walked towards you, placing his hands on your hips, “Did those other girls make you jealous?”

“Get off of me!” You pushed him away, “How dare you try to come back after what you did? It was all your fault. I just wanted my Eddie…” (Ed POV)

Edward’s mask of confidence fell when he saw tears threatening to fall from YN’s eyes. ‘Women like confidence’ echoed in his head, but she never fit into the common norms. YN had liked him for his quirky faults. He was an idiot for thinking an arrogant act would win her over. “I’m still here. I just thought that if by acting a certain way you’d want me back. YN, please, I just want the two of you back.” He pressed kisses against your face in the way that used to calm you down and attempted to pull you into his arms.

(Reader POV)

“You put me through hell! I was pregnant and forced to leave. Afraid of the one person I’ve ever loved,” you flinched away from his kisses, “You weren’t there for any of his first. When he walked, talked, solved a damned rubix cube. Of course, even though he didn’t know it he just had to love you.” As much as you hated it you leaned against him and started to bawl.

Edward pressed a kiss on the top of your head, apologizing in every way possible. “Shh, come here baby.” He led you to the couch and sat you on his lap.

Your son rushed out of his room once he heard your cries. “Momma! Are you okay?” The small boy tried to pry the man’s hands away, “What’s wrong?” Benjamin pressed a kiss to your cheek.

You stood up and knelt down in front of Benji. “It’s okay baby,” you pressed a kiss to his cheek in return, “I just got a little sad.”

He looked shyly at the man in green before returning his attention to you, “Did the Riddler hurt you?”

(Ed POV)

Edward had missed having you in his arms, the short time you were there wasn’t enough. Still, he couldn’t help but admire his son. It was like looking in a fun house mirror that made you look shorter.

He never understood what his past darker self had against a child. At least now he had full control over him.

Benjamin made him feel like he was seeing himself as a child. Hardly any of YN had made an imprint on the boy. YN was doing a perfect job raising Benjamin and he, of course, had to be brilliant. Edward felt pride at being someone Benjamin wanted to emulate.

“I wouldn’t hurt her, you either,” I answered the question he had directed to his mother.

“Why?” He asked, his big curious eyes seemingly seeking the answers to the universe.

“I’m your father little one.”

Benjamin frowned in response, staring at YN. “You told me daddy died in an accident mommy. I’m confused.”

The Riddler felt his heart clench. It seemed reasonable for her to spin such a tale. A child of his age would ask questions about an absent father. Especially since she had assumed by moving often, Edward wouldn’t be able to find her. It hurt nonetheless.

(Reader POV)

Great, now you had to explain this whole mess to your son. “Baby, I’m sorry, but I told you a lie. We got into an argument and decided it was best to get away from each other,” of course you weren’t going to tell him the whole truth, “The Riddler is your dad.”

“That’s why you would get sad when I talked about him!” Benjamin realized, before looking angrily at Edward, “Mommy cried because of you. I hope Batman solves all of your riddles!”

It was obvious that Edward taken back by the young boy’s anger. Though, if Ed had any control he would have exploded by now. Instead Edward looked sad by the thought of upsetting you and your son. You couldn’t help but think he deserved it. Still Benjamin had managed to make you laugh.

“Love, calm down. You’re so amazing,” you pressed a kiss to the top of his head, “Mommy’s fine, promise. She’s just thinking too much right now.”

Benjamin hugged you, “It’s okay mommy. I forgive you for lying.”

You smiled, before looking at the Riddler. He didn’t know what to do with himself to say the least. Undeniably there was still a part of you that loved the man. Even if he was a criminal now, you wanted your son to have some real memories of his father. “Benji, how about you go get a board game or the rubix cube?” They both looked at you with identical expressions of confusion, but Benjamin shrugged and went to go get a game.

“Why’d you send him to get a game?”

“Once upon a time some fucked up things happened with us. But I know you enough to know if you wanted to hurt us the deed would be done by now. The only thing to do is to right now is to him happy again. He holds a hell of a grudge, if anyone asks me, I’d say he gets it from his father. Usually playing around can distract him though.”

“Does this mean I get another shot at life with the both of you?”

“I…Eddie I don’t know,” you crossed your arms, “Let’s just take it slow. Benjamin is the important one in this situation and we should focus on him.”

He nodded, “You’re right. Just don’t put off the idea of us. You’re still my favorite kitten.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Benjamin came back with Clue and his solved Rubix cube. “Here you go mommy,” he said, handing you the cube.

“Look at this.” You started to mix up the cube, stopping when you were satisfied with the final product. “Eddie, solve it one handed.”

Ed took the cube and started matching the colors. Benjamin shuffled closer, captivated by how quickly his father was solving it. “You know, they won’t let me hold the record because I’m an adversary to the Batman,” Ed rolled his eyes, “The dimwit.”

“Bet you I could get the record! I solved it for the first time today,” Benjamin explained, happily. You were glad to see your distraction worked.

“No arguments there. With parents as intelligent as your mother and I, no doubt you’d be any less.”

“Dad,” Benjamin looked as if he was experimenting with the word, “Why’d you come back?”

“Because I missed your mother and I wanted to know what my son was like,” he ruffled Ben’s hair playfully, “I’ve always known where the two of you were, but there was something holding me back from coming to see you.”

“Does that mean you’re gonna leave again?”

“If you want me to stay around, I will.”

“That would be cool. I’ve always wondered what having a daddy would be like. Stephen always makes fun of me for just having a mommy,” Benji frowned.

“Obviously he was raised by apes. No matter, you have me now. I promise I’ll stay as long as you need me,” Ed scanned the room, looking for something that would cheer up his son, “Hey! How did you know Clue was my favorite game?”

Ben’s eyes lit up, “Really? Mine too! I’ll set it up!” Ben got to work, setting the pieces up on the living room table.

“Should’ve known you would catch on quick. How long did you know about the moving?” You wondered.

“Since the beginning. I just stayed away because I didn’t want him to gain control. Around the time Ben was born I was debating seeing the both of you,” he shook his head, “Risking the two of you wasn’t worth it.”

“I hope you know we’re not going back to Gotham. Maybe back then, but now with all you rogues? I just don’t feel it’s safe enough.”

“Didn’t want you to anyways,” he said, “I know of too many plans. It would be easy for one of you to be caught in the crossfire.”

“Mommy, daddy! Come on, let’s play!”

The conversation you two were having was put on pause. By the end of the night, the three of you had had your fill of Ben’s candy and the game had came to an end when Ben started to doze off at the table. Ed helped you put your son to bed before joining you back in the living room.

“How long is your visit?”

“I was thinking, maybe, three weeks. I have business in Gotham. Then, if you were okay with it, I could come back later?”

You sighed, but nodded, “Fine, sure. Just don’t get yourself killed Eddie.”

“I’ve got reasons to live now,” he yawned, rubbing his face sleepily. “Mind if I take your couch for the night?”

“You know you’re not sleeping on the couch,” you rolled your eyes grabbing his hand, leading him to your room, “Just don’t expect to get lucky anytime soon.” You started to change into your night clothes. It didn’t matter that he was there, he’d seen you before. “Here,” you threw a shirt at him and a pair of sweatpants, “I accidentally packed it when I was getting my things but the sweats I took on purpose.”

“You did love wearing my clothes.” That made you stick your tongue out at him. “Don’t stick out your tongue unless you plan to use it dear.”

You got comfy in your bed, more tired than you had realized. “Fuck you, Eddie.”

“Thought you said I wasn’t getting lucky anytime soon?” He chuckled, joining you in bed once he was dressed.

“Only in your dreams. Goodnight.”

“Wouldn’t those be the sweetest dreams? Goodnight kitten,” he said, holding you close. He knew that you’d be his again.

[jiemba]

Sanvers Week Day 5 - Domestic

Cw: hospitals/illness, mentions of police brutality, homophobia

The first time Maggie felt him move, she’d woken Alex so frantically she thought someone had died. But when her wife took her hands and pressed them to her belly, beaming and insistent (“There, right there, do you feel it?”), Alex could only shake her head. That was always her greatest fear, in the beginning. That he wouldn’t feel like hers right away. That he’d never feel like hers at all.   She remembered the pain of having Kara stand before her dressed in black, snarling that they didn’t share blood, and imagined her son spitting the same thing at her, mid-argument, in fifteen years. It had been drilled into her from day one, every time someone would congratulate Maggie but not her, or a stranger would ask how far along her friend was. Every time Eliza would make a shotgun subtle suggestion about ensuring that he had enough male influences in his life. When she would try to visit Maggie during her check-ups and the nurse would ask her, cautiously, if she was a family member. When she would do 3am runs to the grocery store for ginger beer and the cashier would ask how far along she was, only to say “Oh I’m sorry, I just assumed you were the mom”. Now, she couldn’t be more grateful for that distance. It was the only thing keeping her from screaming. She clenched Maggie’s hand on the way out of the doctor’s office, feeling the tremble of her wife’s skin, stopping to take her ashen face in her hands. “It’s gonna be fine,” she found herself saying, only because that’s what you said at times like this, even when the words were hollow in your throat. “We’ll figure this out.” Still in shock, Maggie could only shake her head, glazed eyes drifting somewhere over Alex’s chest, repeating the only thing she’d been able to say since they were told. “We haven’t even named him yet.”

Everybody told them, “It doesn’t matter if it’s a girl or a boy, as long as it’s healthy.” But nothing had prepared them for the news that they were having a son. Alex could only relate it to the same joyous freefall of Maggie telling her they were finally pregnant, reeling from nerves, euphoria, disbelief. She’d felt the world in that minute. Maggie immediately switched to calling him mijo, Alex kissing her wife’s belly at night and whispering how she couldn’t wait to meet him. They couldn’t stop imagining him. Any concerns that arose mostly came from other people - the sceptical glances and unsure comments when people first heard, the way they’d look at Alex like she had nothing to teach him. They were sipping M’gann’s virgin peach mojitos one night at the bar when Maggie had to tug her out of an argument with a hand around her elbow.  “Alex, forget about that guy. You don’t have to listen to some idiot who doesn’t think you can kick a ball. Hell, between the two of us, our kid’s gonna be the most badass, grenade-obsessed, surfing, soccer-playing, crime-fighting science genius in the world. Or he won’t. Maybe he won’t be like us at all and he’ll be a funky arts student or something. It doesn’t matter. Whatever he is, he’ll be beautiful. He’ll be ours. OK?” Alex let her wife tuck some hair behind her ear, finding it impossible not to smile at the possibilities, vast as the sea. “OK,” she murmured, kissing her. “But no grenades until he’s at least five.” Maggie’s head tilted with the laugh, and she wrapped her arms around Alex’s neck. “You’re right, we don’t want him choking on the small parts.” Their own fears came later - faster for Maggie than for Alex. She remembered her brother’s bloodied face against the hood of a cop car at 17, his screams sounding hollow in that empty Nebraska field. She could picture her son at 7 or 8, too scared to wear hoodies outside the house, too scared to run in the mall, hiding under his bed when he heard sirens blocks away. Imagined herself passing on the safety speech her parents had given her and Eduardo, about where to put your hands, what to say, how to make it home alive. Throughout her pregnancy, she and Alex kept attending every Black Lives Matter march they could make it to, Maggie clenching her wife’s hand for the parts when she couldn’t chant, when she couldn’t speak, when she could barely breathe. Alex would stop in the street and kiss her soundly, cradling her wife’s growing belly in her hands, and say, “Listen, beautiful boy. Listen to all these people fighting for you.” After they got home from a march, around five months in, they were making a truckload of brigadeiros and Pão de Queijo (which Maggie would inevitably eat, disgustingly, in the same mouthful) when she stopped, took a deep breath. “Since he’s getting your last name, I think… I want to give him a name that reminds him of his heritage. Eddy and I – we were always so embarrassed of ours, and I just… I want him to be proud of his name, his skin, his language. Not how I grew up, you know?” “Of course.” Alex came behind her to kiss her shoulder, wrap her arms around her belly. “We could name him after your Tia maybe? A boy version?” “Actually, I was going to ask her for suggestions. Maybe she can help us name him? It could be a really nice gesture…” Alex smiled against her wife’s skin. “That sounds perfect.” The initial phone call, in the end, didn’t go as well as expected. Alex tried her best to stay in the shower and give Maggie some privacy, but it was impossible not to hear snaps of English between the Portuguese and Spanish, the yelling of no, absolutely not, you’re not telling them anything about this, they gave up the right to know anything about my life twenty years ago, they don’t get to hear his name, they don’t get to know he exists, you’ll always be his Vovó and that’s all that matters…

Afterwards, Alex found her wife sobbing on the kitchen floor, all hormones and bad memories, and scooped her into her arms. “Darling….” “I don’t get it, Alex,” she cried. “I haven’t even met him, but I feel so much. I love him, so much. Just… how? How could my mom have felt these things for me and still let my dad…?” All Alex could do was sigh, trying to quell her own fears of turning into her mother, and press kisses into her shaking wife’s hair. “I don’t know, beautiful. I don’t know.”

Everybody told them, “It doesn’t matter if it’s a girl or boy, as long as it’s healthy.” But they’d never truly considered the prospect that he wouldn’t be healthy. The doctors discovered it late. Alex and Maggie could sense the edge in their voices as they invited them in for more tests, telling them not to worry until there was cause to be worried. But when Alex heard the words “aortic valve stenosis”, she’d been the one to implode first, leaving to throw up before the doctors could explain to Maggie what the words meant. Back home, if Alex was a whimper, Maggie was a howl. Every day that week, she covered her mouth and screamed in the shower. Alex always heard, held her as she broke, let herself break with her, but nothing she said could convince Maggie that she had done all the right things, eaten all the right foods, that there was nothing they could have done. Their mornings had lost all light. Maggie would find herself holding her breath, unable to get out of bed until she felt him move. “Come on, mijo, wake up for me? Please? Just let me know you’re OK.” Often, Alex’s singing was the only thing that roused him, and she’d kiss Maggie’s belly after, assure him that he was doing a good job, that he was being so brave, that she loved him. Their friends did everything they could. Winn and James brought food, helped Alex with her paperwork so she could clock off early most days. Kara always commented on his heartbeat changing at the sound of someone’s voice, J’onn confirming that he could tell they were there. Alex pulled him aside, tears in her eyes. “Tell me the truth. Is he in pain?” J’onn could only sigh, bringing the closest person he had to a living daughter into his arms. “No, Alex. He’s just very tired. Keep singing to him. He likes it.” She did. For weeks, it was the only sound in their home that was beautiful. “You know what my mom would say if she were here?” Maggie muttered as she sat at the kitchen table one night, unable to stomach even her most desperate cravings. There was a bottle of wine in the pantry they’d bought when they first fell pregnant, saving it for the night they brought him home. They both seemed to feel its presence, just feet away – torn between wanting to swallow it down or smash it to pieces.   “What?” “That this is my punishment. For the life I chose.” Alex shook her head a little, staring only at the table. But deep down, she knew if anyone was being punished, it was her. She had too much blood on her hands after all these years for it to be anything else. “Do you believe that?” Maggie’s lip trembled. “I don’t know.” It occurred to Alex then, almost out of nowhere, that they’d already painted his room, the back wall all spaceships and stars. She hoped it hadn’t been a mistake.

The doctors took no chances. Scans twice a week, bed rest for Maggie. Alex couldn’t always be there. She worked as much as she could, trying to save money for all the time she’d need off, and she was in uniform, overseeing evidence collection fresh after a raid, when she got the call. “Alex, you need to come here.” “Sure, I can drive over -” “No, Alex, you need to get here now. They’re taking him out.” Kara flew her straight away, Alex sprinting straight into the hospital leaving no explanation for why Supergirl had just dropped her at the front door. Maggie was in pieces, refusing to settle enough for the c-section, because what if he dies, Alex, what if he’s not ready, what if he dies and he never knows that we loved him… Alex grasped her hand as they prepped her stomach, drew a curtain across her lower half, got Alex a chair. This was happening. Dear God, it was happening. “We’re not gonna talk like this,” Alex told her firmly, tears spilling out of her eyes. “Not today. You remember when I was drowning? I was drowning, and you told me I didn’t get to act like it was the end. Because we were gonna have a lifetime of firsts together. You remember?” Maggie could only sob in response, the doctor announcing that they were going to start cutting. “No, please, not yet -” “Maggie, babe, don’t look at her. Look at me,” Alex told her, clinging to her wife’s hand as tight as she could. “Listen to me, OK? You told me we were going to have a lifetime of firsts. And we did, beautiful. Our first Valentine’s Day, first Chanukkah, first Christmas. Our first anniversary, at the beach house, remember? We had our first vacation, and I met your Tia for the first time, on the first trips to  home towns. And today we’re having our first baby. Our beautiful boy.” “Alex,” she choked, wincing at the dulled sensations of being stretched apart, but Alex soothed her, brushed a hand over her covered hair. “Just breathe, beautiful. We’re meeting our son today. We’re meeting him so soon, darling. And he’s gonna have a lifetime of firsts too. A year from today we’ll be having his first birthday. He’s gonna walk, and ride bikes, and go to school, and bring someone home to meet us, and he’s gonna be so happy, Maggie. I promise, darling, we’ll make sure he’s so happy…” “I’m scared,” Maggie whispered, hiccupping on her tears as she felt reaching, pulling. “I’m scared too,” Alex breathed, wiping her eyes. “But we just started this. And it’s not gonna end today. OK?” “OK.” She wept, and she closed her eyes, and let Alex’s forehead rest against hers. But they couldn’t help but notice that when their son was taken to a table by the wall, they were the only ones in the room who were crying.

Two weeks from her son’s first breath, eleven days from his first open heart surgery, Alex found herself running. Running because the doctors had just told them of his first infection. Possibly his last infection. Updated his condition from stable to serious. Not yet critical. But maybe soon. Because of course the universe wanted to smack her down from being happy. Of course she didn’t deserve him. Of course motherhood was just another thing for her to fail at. She couldn’t run home. The place was too full of gifts people brought before it all went to hell, the useless baby clothes that were all too big for him, that he might never grow into. The fridge full of cooked dinners people had dropped by, the letterbox full of sympathy cards, the answering machine flashing red. God knows what they were going to do with it all, when this was over. She ran to the only place she knew held people she could trust. James was the first to see her at the door, half-dressed in his Guardian suit, mask off. He pulled her into a hug. “Alex, how are you doing? How’s our little guy?” “The same,” she lied. “I need to speak to J’onn.” But J’onn already knew. He called her up to his office, having heard her screaming mind from down the block. It wasn’t until he shut the door that her knees buckled as she sat, as her vision went dizzy. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, taking in everything she was thinking. “Breathe, Alex.” She couldn’t cry. Not even with a storm raging in her chest, not even with her world collapsing. It wasn’t real. She wouldn’t let it be real. After a while, J’onn said, “Maggie called, hoping to find you here. She needs you, Alex.” But Alex shook her head hard, letting it fall forward into her hands. “I can’t. I can’t be there if he…” “Alex,” he exhaled, his own mind screaming along with hers now. “As someone who’s lost children…” A sob escaped Alex’s chest and splattered against the window. “It was the most painful thing to hear my daughters scream as they were dragged to the furnace. But it’s my greatest regret that I wasn’t there at the end. Even if it meant burning with them.” He closed his eyes, body shaking from the shuddering woman under his arm, from the wound of his own memory. “He can’t do this without you. Maggie can’t do this without you. If it happens, it will hurt like nothing you’ve ever felt before. But if it happens and you’re not there…” Alex choked, wiped her face. “I should be stronger than this. Maggie should be falling apart, but I… He’s not even mine, not really…” “No, Alex. He’s yours. Before he even existed, when he was just an idea, he was yours.” “J’onn’s right, Alex,” Kara said, slipping through the door and kneeling before her grieving sister. “You and Maggie dreamt him up together, made him together, brought him into the world together. And you’re going to get through this next part together.” “I’m scared,” Alex choked. “I know,” Kara wept, holding her hands. “Maggie called me, she told me he was worse. She needs you there, Alex. Luca needs you there. And I know you need them too. So I’m gonna fly you over, OK? He needs his mom for this.” Once Alex caught her breath, she agreed to go, but only if Kara flew her to the desert first. Out there in the dust, she let herself collapse to the ground, let her sister hold her, let herself scream like she could burn the world down.

Maggie left the NICU as soon as she saw them coming. She’d never wanted to fight in front of him. It made Alex long for the start of their relationship. It was a simpler time then, when they could argue about vacations and dishwashers. Not where they would bury their son next week, if they had to. Not picking out coffins the size of fucking shoeboxes. “Nice of you to show up, Alex.” She felt all the bite in the words. Absorbed it. “I’m sorry I left. I had to speak to J’onn.” Maggie trembled noticeably at the mention, knowing exactly what they would have discussed. She shook her head to clear it, twisted her wedding ring around, around. “He’s been OK today. They say if he starts breathing on his own again within the next 24 hours that’s good progress.” Alex didn’t ask what would happen if he didn’t.   On the other side of the glass, they could hear Kara speaking softly to Luca. When you get bigger we’re gonna have the best time together. I’ll take you flying wherever you want, little one. I promise. Alex sighed, stepped a little closer to her wife. “I’m sorry I ran. I was just losing it, I needed -” “I know. I get that. But you didn’t even tell me where you were going. I was scared,” Maggie told her, dissolving in Alex’s grasp. “I know since we found out he was sick you’ve been distancing yourself. You barely felt him kick, you threw yourself into your work. But I couldn’t run. I felt him, every second of every day. Now, not being able to hold him… I feel like someone’s cut off my hand, Alex. I can’t do this without my wife.” “You don’t have to,” Alex whimpered, pulling her into her arms. “I just needed to go and breathe. But I’m here. I’ll always be here. For all of it. All our firsts.” Maggie sniffled, wiped her eyes. “I just hope they’re good ones.” They scrubbed in, suited up, covered their hair, saying goodbye to Kara as she left to give them space. But Alex still had to fight not to break apart seeing him there, his chest bruised, carved straight down the middle. Wires. Tubes. Her son. “He’s OK,” Maggie murmured, her hand rubbing Alex’s back and guiding her closer. “Come sit down.” The first thing Alex did was reach out her hand to take his. Even barely conscious, he knew she was there, his body seeming to release a wave of tension. “I missed you so much, beautiful boy,” Alex wept. “I’m so sorry. I’m back now, I promise. I’m right here.” He shifted in his daze, as if trying to edge closer to her hand, and she held on. Maggie leaned her head against her wife’s shoulder, wiping her eyes. “Looks like he missed you too.”

There was a sign on his capsule. It had hippos on it. “Hi, my name is: Luca Jon Danvers My parents are: Magdalena Sawyer and Alexandra Danvers I like: sleeping with my moms’ t-shirts and soft music   I don’t like: loud talking I’m resting after major surgery. Please visit the washing station and cover your clothes in a sanitised gown before you hold my hand. Do not try to pick me up. Tell a nurse immediately if I turn blue.” They sat in silence for a long while, Alex reading the sign a thousand times over, still not able to absorb that this boy carried her family’s name. Beside her, her wife was praying for the first time in twenty years. Hail Mary, full of grace, she remembered, but after that, her mind was entirely dark. “He looks so much like you,” Alex whispered. And he did – the skin darker than hers, almost black hair on his head. Even his eyelashes, his lips. His eyes, on the few occasions she’d seen them. “He’s so beautiful.” “He is. Can you believe we did this? That we made him?” Alex shook her head “It was all you anyway.” “No. It was us. It’s always been us.” “I just…I feel like after all the things I’ve done, the people I’ve killed… Maybe that’s why. Maybe I don’t deserve him, Maggie -” “No,” Maggie insisted, grasping her hand hard. “We do deserve him. We deserve a real, full, happy life, remember?” Squeezing back, Alex kissed her wife’s forehead. “I want you to know,” she started, but her voice cracked. She swallowed. “I want you to know that I love you. And I’m proud of us for doing this. Whatever happens.” “I love you too, Alex,” Maggie replied, kissing her softly. “And when we get through this, we’re going to have the most beautiful lifetime of firsts, with this perfect little boy that we made. OK?” Alex nodded against her forehead, fighting not to sob. They sat for a few more hours. They took turns eating. Alex sang his favourite, the red robin song, over and over. It was about 9pm, when he started choking. The world spun. Doctors and nurses crowded him, Alex clinging to her wife, telling her that this was good, this was what they needed, that he was fighting his tubes. “Breathe, baby boy,” she found herself saying anyway. “Breathe. Please.” When his lungs filled with air, their world filled back up with light. And as he screamed and screamed, his skin the healthiest red they’d ever seen it, legs kicking at anything he could reach, Maggie and Alex clung to each other, relishing in the sound that meant their son was here, was breathing, was alive. When the doctors finally confirmed that he was stable, removing many of his tubes and wires, they asked who wanted to be the first to hold him. “You should, Alex,” Maggie murmured. “I got to have him for 8 months, it’s your turn.” “No,” Alex replied, running a hand down Maggie’s back. “Together. Always.” The nurses wrapped him up for them, getting them to share a massive armchair as they laid him across their laps. In tears, in disbelief, they stared down at their sleeping beautiful boy, both their hands cradling his head, his body. “God, he’s so small,” Maggie whispered, laying a thumb across one of his tiny feet to compare. Alex smirked through tears, raised an eyebrow at her wife. “Wonder why.” Maggie’s hand left Luca just a moment to lightly smack her, and for the first time in weeks, they laughed. For the first time ever, their held their son, and stroked his hair, and kissed his hands, and their lifetime of firsts had never felt so bright.