#also not converting because i couldn’t face my parents if i did and i also was already aware that i couldn’t

[canary-prince]

If you catch me posting Bible memes I'm not turning into a Christian or whatever the fuck I was before my intense spiritual crisis 2 years ago (or was it three)? I went to school for academic theological studies (analysis of religion from an exterior view point) and recent books have me nostalgic and hyperfixating.

[devastator1775]

Anne's Journey: Two eternal Souls And The Lost Daughter - Chapter 01: When her entire world turned upside down

Summary: Anne Brinkman entire world just got turned upside down. Her parents were not her real parents. Well, they are, but they are not her birth parents. She was adopted. Left behind on a doorstep during a stormy night, in a basket with a note and some personal items. Whoever her birth parents are, it was an established fact that they had died not long after leaving Anne behind. Still, Anne can't help but think that something doesn't add up. Too many coincidences, too many easy answers. But, there is nothing that can be done about that, right? ... Until proof is found that they are still out there. Determined to find out the truth about herself, her parents and these strange new abilities she seems to be developing, Anne sets out into the world to find the answers and solve this mystery.

‘Her name is Anne. Please love her like we would have loved her.’

Anne let out a deep sigh as the words kept repeating in her heads over and over, the handwriting of the note hovering in front of her – because she had the image projected on her interface.

“You, uh, might have been kinda, uh, a-… a-.” “Adopted.”

The sight of her mothers – those she had called her mothers her entire life - on the verge of tears as they confessed the one thing they’ve had been dreading to tell their daughter, was something that would be burned into her optics forever.

“Where …where did I come from? Who were my birth parents?” “We …we don’t know.”

She let out – another – heavy sigh as she buried her face in her hands. In a span of minutes had her entire world turned upside down and she had no idea how to navigate all …this. It had been a few days since …everything that had happened and every day she felt a little worse. The stress had her entire system in a twist.

At the moment, quite literally.

She winced as she felt something inside her synthetic guts twist and turn, making her curl up on her bed with a whimper. For a moment, it felt like her entire body was overheating and her insides were being completely rearranged, but luckily, it didn’t last too long.

She let out a breath of relief as she discomfort subsided and her body relaxed again. “Okay …that was weird.” Not one to let things like this just happen without figuring out what the ever-loving Robo-God just happened, she quickly ran a diagnostic scan, seeing if something in her internal structure was damaged.

The results didn’t show anything wrong with her, beside that her energy reserves were going to run low soon. That was, like, totally on her; she couldn’t sleep at night, so her recharge cycle wasn’t as efficient as usual. She also had trouble eating much, which meant too little matter was converted into fuel and stored inside her energy cells. And thus, her system started to glitch because of it. All very logical.

She really needed to get something more solid in her bio-converter reactor, unless she wanted to end up at the doctor’s garage. And stress-snacking Sour Battery Bites didn’t help much either. Empty calories didn’t make a great fuel source. Tasty, though. Maybe she should pop down to the kitchen and make herself something healthier than the snacks she had been keeping on hand.  

…

She grabbed another Battery Bite out of the bag and popped it into her mouth. Time enough for that later. Maybe.

The adolescent Drone rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling, as she tried – once again – to put everything that her parents had told her a few days ago into a coherent order. Going over all the facts and reach a agreeable conclusion.

“It was a stormy night, so …people would have been inside, so whoever left me didn’t want to be seen.” Anne mulled over, as she rolled the sour candy battery around her mouth. She tried to recall other things that her mothers had told her about that day. “Power outage? Seems …convenient. Too convenient… And no-one was on the streets either? How the flip-flopping heck did they do that? Grow wings and fly off?”

She reached under her pillow and took out the note that had revealed the truth to her. She had been keeping it there for …whatever reason she had done that. It didn’t help her sleep better, that’s for sure.

“Her name is Anne. Please love her like we would have loved her.” She read aloud, as she had done so many times over the last few days. Two sentences. What her name was and a plea to love her. Nothing else. No explanations, no other instruction, nothing that showed who or why she had been left behind.

There was one thing that vexed her. Out of all the houses out of all the streets out of all the suburbs out all the cities that sprawled all over Copper-9 …they had chosen the only people that wanted to have children, but were unable to. What were the chances that a young couple who have been waiting for so long to adopt a child of their own would, quite literally, have one delivered to their doorstep on a silver platter? Or rather …in a synthweave basket.

Something about that made her think that it was possible that Hazel and Naomi were specifically chosen. Someone had given their newborn child away, for whatever reasons they possessed, to the ideal couple of Drones. Someone had been watched them before they made their move.

She folded up the note and gently placed it inside her jacket pockets and reached out for the other item that lay beside her. Other clues to whoever had knocked on her parents’ door that fateful night.

An old red scarf. Slightly worn, but still comfy and warm. According to Naomi, it was wrapped around her, keeping her warm and dry from the cold, rainy weather that night. So …at least her birth parents cared enough to do that. She pressed the fabric against her cheek, like she had done so often now. There was that familiar feeling once again. Comfort. Safety. Sadness. It stirred up something inside her memory banks, but nothing concrete. Feelings and blurred sensations, but nothing visual that popped up.

Next item. An old beanie. Dark grey with black stripes. Worn, and there was evidence that something fluffy had once been attached to the top. And old piece of headwear, but still good enough to wear. Not much to go on there. These types of beanies had been popular for years, decades, if not even centuries. Half of her classmates and even some teachers wore these things. She even had one, but only wore it when she went outside, and even then, only when she felt like wearing one. There was evidence of repairs, ranging from amateurship to almost professional. Either two people had been working on this, or someone had to learn to sew and whatever stitches worked best. Someone tried their best to keep this beanie in good shape, which showed an attachment to it. And still, they had given it up …given it to her.

Next were a pair of glasses with yellow-tinted lenses. A special type glass was used. The type that some Drones would wear to enhance their vision …or just to look cute. Not as old like the scarf or beanie, but people could get these types of specs anywhere. But the lack of any sort of manufacturer also implied that someone had handcrafted these. Someone who had a specific type of style. Someone had taken the time to learn this, just like with the stitchwork on the beanie. Besides that, nothing else that could tell her more about who had owned them.

She picked up the final item, holding it between her thumb and index finger as she let it dangle above her head. An old black choker. A band made of charms resembling flowers or some sort of ice crystals. The middle part showed an insignia of some sort, but it had faded away so much that Anne hardly could make anything out of it. Some sort of skull and the numbers 002. Like the scarf and beanie, it looked really old. Maybe something passed down from parent to child?

Anne sighed as she clutched the choker in her fist. It was no use. None of these pieces were significant enough to help her solve this puzzle and everything else her parents had told her didn’t help much either. As she stared up at her ceiling, she wondered if she could just write down every clue she knew, stick them up there and connect them with red string as some gravitationally challenged evidence board.

…

Nah, she didn’t have any red string on hand and she couldn’t be bothered to buy some just for this. Seems like a waste of her allowance. Pretty sure that sort of thing doesn’t work anyways.

The questions, the revelations, the whole thing was really building up inside her, until she really couldn’t keep it inside her anymore. Anne took a deep breath for a few moments, after which she let out a long continuous groan, the kind that seemed to stretch out for several scenes and couldn’t be interrupted by even a dodgeball hitting her on the nogging …but only lasted about 10 seconds.

She should have known that she was adopted. In hindsight, the clues had always been there. Her eyes obviously couldn’t be any more different than those of her mothers. Her yellow and purple eyes versus her mothers’, which both had green eyes – one emerald, the other mint.

There was her height. When a Untrained Neural Network reached a certain age, it would be assigned a body, and the type of body was determined by the Drone’s Parental Source Code. Her mothers were both taller than her, so If she really would have had their parental source code, she would have been assigned a tall model as well. But she was given a shorter model, so that would have meant at least one of her parents would have been short as well.

Then, there were the little things. She had a bit of a temper – which she totally had under control – while her mothers always seemed to be able to keep their calm. She had a natural knack for anything electronic, having taught herself how to hack. Her mothers were both doctors, but even with their own predisposition for it, they had to got through years of Tech-Med school to reach their current level.

It was something in her appearance as well. People always seemed so surprised to learn that Anne was Hazel and Noami’s daughter, often mentioning that she looked so different from her parents. Now she knew why. Anne sighed. This whole thing was making her head spin. Before Anne could spiral even further down her whirlpool of thoughts, a  knock on her door startled her out of it and made her sit up.

“Hello?”

“Anne, sweetheart? May I come in?” It was Naomi. Were her mothers home? She thought that they were at the hospital.

“Yes, momma, come in!” Anne called out, a hint of guilt welling up. Her mothers had been giving her space after their talk, even allowing her to stay from school for a couple of days – a doctor’s note was easily acquired when both you parents were doctors –, but she had been kinda, somewhat, just a little ignoring them. It’s not that she hadn’t said a word to them, but Anne had entrenched herself inside her room for these last few days and didn’t have the courage to face them too much right now.

“Hi there, little Anne.” Naomi greeted cautiously as she peeked inside the room.

“Hi…” Anne greeted back, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she hear her mothers’ favorite pet name for her. “I thought you guys were at work?”

“Hazel still is and I took the afternoon off.” Naomi explained. Having you home alone, especially after …well, we felt better knowing at least one of us was here.”

“Oh …”

“I, eh …noticed you hadn’t finished your breakfast.” Noami smiled sheepishly and held out a tray with a few sandwiches – or rather Dronekind’s equivalent of a sandwich. “I thought you might be hungry. They are your favorites, with extra spicy thermal paste.”

“That’s okay, but- “

“Anne Elliot Brinkman, you have hardly eaten proper food in two days and I’m not leaving until you’ve finished at least one sandwich.” Naomi stated, her voice calm and collected but Anne knew her momma well enough to hear that subtle and unspoken ‘or else…’ between the lines. Naomi smiled softly. “Please, for me? So I know you’ve had something besides those snacks of yours?”

After a lifetime of having the occasional squabble with her parents giving her the intricate ability of knowing when to push back and when to just simply give up, Anne held out her hand and accepted the plate of lovingly made sandwiches. As her mother took a seat next to her, Anne took a bite …her eyes lit up and she started to scarf down the food. Naomi just shook her head in amusement. Anne must’ve been hungrier than either of them thought.

When Anne had finished her plate, she handed it over to Naomi with a small ‘thank you, momma’.

“You know, school has called again.” Naomi began casually, but Anne could hear that little something in her voice that told she had something else on her mind.

“Oh…?” Anne tried to keep her voice even, but it wasn’t easy to keep it casual. She had so many burning questions and she was looking for an opening to ask about them.

“They asked when you would return.”

“Well, tell them-“

“I told them you’d return Monday.” Naomi held up a finger to Anne’s lips before the latter could utter a disagreement. “We have been very understanding these last few days, because we know how hard and difficult this news had been to you.”

“That’s an understatement…” Anne muttered silently, alas not silently enough if that disapproving scowl her mother her mother was giving her was anything to go by. “Sorry.”

“You better.” Naomi sighed, but tried to put on a sympathetic smile as Anne looked away. “Honey, staying away from school for a few days was fine, since you ‘weren’t feeling well’; but any longer and you’re going to need a proper reason to do so. And before you ask: no, neither me nor your mom are going to just hand you a doctor’s notes.”

Anne sighed. She knew her momma was right. She didn’t like it, but she had to relent anyway. “Fine …”

An awkward silence fell between the two, with Anne fidgeting with the old choker she still was holding and Naomi staring down at her hands folded up on her lap. Eventually, the older Drone let out a heavy sigh. As she spoke up, the teenager couldn’t help but notice how broken her mother’s voice sounded. “Anne, darling, I know you must hate us, but-“

Anne’s head shot up, shocked at this statement. “’Hate you’? Why would I ever hate you?” She pointed at herself. “And please take notice of the complete lack of sarcasm in my voice and the absolute, genuine confusion its actually projecting.”

Noami didn’t seem convinced. “Anne, we’ve lied to you your entire life.” She wiped away a digital tear. “But you must believe me when I say that we are so sorry for-“

Anne didn’t give her mother a chance to finish her speech of self-pity, as she threw her arms – pretty much her entire body – around her mother and hugged her. A gesture immediately returned by Naomi, who pulled her child close against her chest.

“Momma, I could never - I repeat, never - hate you.” Anne choked out, digital tears running down her cheeks as guilt now truly filled up her entire being. She felt awful for making her mothers feel that way, especially since they didn’t deserve it. “Yes, you lied about this, but I can kinda understand how hard it was to find the right time to speak about this. Yes, suddenly finding out the truth like this was hard, but momma, you and mom took me in as your daughter. You fed me, raised me, and you loved me like your own. I am who I am because of you two. You are my parents and I love you two so much. Nothing will ever change that!”

“Of course we did.” Noami agreed softly, tears running down her visor. “And we love you too. You have been nothing but a blessing for us. Our little Anne.”

Anne pulled away from the embrace and held her mother’s hands in her own. “But can you blame me for just …wanting to get away from it all for a little while to just process all this? When you told me the truth …Momma, my entire world just got turned upside-down and I don’t know left from right anymore.”

“Well, Hazel and I do know a little of what that’s like.” Noami stated softly as she caressed her daughter’s cheek. “To have your life going on like it always had and suddenly ….lightning strikes, everything is different, nothing is like it was anymore and there’s an entirely new normal you have to get used to.”

“Is that really what I am going to have to do?” Anne asked, squeezing her mother’s hands softly. “Just …get used to the new normal? Just going through life feeling like there’s an entire piece missing from my puzzle?”

“I don’t know what else you could do, Anne darling.” Naomi said with a heavy sigh. “Me and Hazel have told you everything we know.”

“Are you sure there is nothing more?” Anne asked. “There must be something you can tell me?”

“Honey, I don’t know what else to tell you about that night.” Naomi sighed, running her fingers through her hair. “Me and Hazel were watching television during a storm when the power went out. We heard a knock on the door and when Hazel went to check, all she found was this little Droneling, all alone. No-one in sight. Just a basket with a baby, a note and some personal items.”

“And what about my Parental Source Code?” Anne asked, despite knowing very well what her mother was going to answer. “Can’t they trace my parents that way?”

“Anne, they tried that. A few days after we brought you into the hospital to check you out – you had a perfectly clean bill of health, by the way -, we got word that they had tracked down the two donors of your Source Code, and …”

“The young couple they had found had died a few days after the night you had found me, you’ve told me this.” Anne sighed. “So, who were they?”

“We …we don’t know. Their ID-Chips were destroyed in the accident and frankly, …we didn’t want to know. We were fighting to get you adopted as our child and we feared that any sort of potential revelation would result in them taking you away from us. ” Naomi confessed.

Anne ran her hands through her hair. “There’s really nothing else? Anything?”

“Well …” Naomi mused. “It’s probably nothing, but they found some …irregularities in your data files.”

“That doesn’t sound like ‘nothing’.” Anne sat up a little straighter. “What did they find?”

Naomi sighed. “Don’t get your hopes up, sweetie. It meant that they couldn’t find any data on Cradle Facility you were from and you had some minor, harmless corruption in some of the data strings, which all were fixed when your Core got transferred into your kiddie body.”

“That …doesn’t sound like anything minor.” Anne stated carefully.

“From what I remember – and not a lot, since this was 16 years ago – it seemed to point out that something didn’t go exactly right during your, uh, moment of conception. Computer error, a glitch in the system, things like that. ” Naomi explained. “They believed that, most likely, this young couple had broken into a Cradle Facility, for whatever reason, and accidentally triggered the Neural Network Fabricator, which resulted in …you.”

Anne deflated. “I …I was probably an accident?”

A silence fell again, with Anne mulling over the what her mother had told her.

“Honey …I …”Naomi took a deep breath. “Even if your birth parents never planned for you; even if they couldn’t – for whatever reason – keep you as their own, they still loved you enough to make sure you were taken care off. Lesser people would have …tossed you away, or worse.”

“But they didn’t …” Anne realized, slowly looking up. “They wanted me to have a family. They wanted someone to love me, like they would have loved me.”

“And I’d say that you’ve gotten just that, sweetheart.” Naomi spread her arms open, inviting her daughter into a hug – which Anne quickly agreed too, as she practically lunged at her mother. A few moments passed in comfortable silence, before Naomi broke it. She broke away from the hug and used her fingers to brush her daughter’s hair. “Feeling better?”

Anne shrugged. “A bit …but …”

“But …?” Noami pressed.

Anne wrung her hands together, unable to bring herself to look her mother in the eyes. “Please, don’t be mad, but …I …I still would like to know more. I still have so many questions and- “

Noami grabbed Anne’s hand. “Of course you still have questions, sweetie. It’s only normal.” She assured her daughter with a loving smile. “And maybe, one day, you might get some answers, but …not right now. Right now, there are three things that you can be certain of right now.”

The confused teenaged Drone cocked her head, a question mark appearing on her visor. “And those are?”

“1. Your parents – adopted or otherwise – love you very much, no matter what.” Noami began, counting down on her fingers. “2. Whatever happens in the future, you will always be our daughter and you will always have a home with us.”

“And the third thing, momma?” Anne asked with a big grin.

Noami booped Anne on the nonexistent nose with a massive grin. “Understanding mom or not, Hazel is gonna flip a gasket when she sees what a pigsty your room has become and you better clean it up before she gets home.”

Anne chuckled sheepishly as she gazed around her room. It was …pretty chaotic, even for a teenager’s room. Dirty clothes strewn around, snack wrappers more around her trash can than inside it, books and comics that didn’t provide any sort of distraction on several places besides her bookcase and more ... All the pacing around, brooding and mildly immature temper tantrums of the last few days hadn’t done her room any favors. She rubbed the back of her head. “Uh, I’ll get right on that?”

“You could do that.” Naomi suggested as she stood up from the bed, a mischievous grin on her face. “Or …since you’ve been cooped up here all this time and Hazel is going to work late today, how about we have some mother-daughter time first, and afterwards I could help you clean up? How does a trip to your favorite clothing store sound?”

“Sounds absolutely perfect, momma!” Anne agreed with a massive smile as she jumped up from her bed.

Now, those who knew Anne well would agree on a lot of things about her, with variations of agreement. She was really pretty. She was really intelligent. She was friendly. She could be really sarcastic when she wanted to be. She was a Drone who liked to help out. She was a great friend. She had a great taste in retro music. She was equal parts dork and cool. She did have a bit of a temper, but what teenager doesn’t?

But there was one thing they all agreed on. Anne was anything but graceful. In fact: she was a bit of a klutz. Tripping over her own feet, running into things, bumping into people when she wasn’t paying attention.

Or, in this case, getting her blanket somehow wrapped up around her feet without her even noticing.

Instead of jumping of her bed with gracefulness of a now-extinct gazelle, Anne got her foot caught and tumbled right over the edge of her bed. She didn’t even have time to yelp before she landed face-first on the ground.

She heard and felt something crack. Her visor ..not again. She only had visited the tech-doc last week for a new visor and she really didn’t want to explain how it happened this time. The reason for the previous time she got injured was embarrassing enough.

Naomi, despite being used to her daughter’s clumsiness, still gave the latter the courtesy of being concerned. She hoped she didn’t sound too casual about it. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

 “Ouch …” Anne groaned as she got up, holding her hand over her right eye. She stumbled back onto her bed, a bit dizzy from the impact. Her visor felt like it was burning. “I’m fine, but I think I’ve cracked my visor ..again.”

Her mother immediately held her daughter’s head between her hand. “Move your hand. Let me see.” She gave Anne a quick look as the latter removed her hand from her head. Naomi softly rubbed her thumb over Anne’s visor and smiled. “No, nothing there. Not even a scratch. You got lucky …this time.”

“Huh, seriously?” Anne questioned as she jumped up from the bed – this time without any more injuries – and walked over to her dressing table and looked into the mirror. To her surprise, her mother was right. No cracked visor, no pieces missing, not even scratched. Her visor was completely intact …it somehow looked even better than before. “I could’ve sworn that …”

“Well, be glad you were wrong, honey.” Naomi giggled. “Although, with two more visits to the tech-doc this month and we’ll be getting a free frozen yoghurt.”

“First: haha, very funny.” Anne grimaced, sticked out her tongue at her mother – who copied the action. “Secondly, I still can’t understand how Doc Bronwyn is able to combine her doctor’s practice with an ice cream parlor …with massive success, I might add?”

“Some people just have a great mind for business, I guess.” Naomi chuckled, holding out her hand to Anne. “Since you don’t have any life-threatening injuries at the moment, how about we get going?”

Spurred by the prospect of getting some new clothes on someone else’s money  - and spending some quality time with her momma, obviously – Anne grabbed her mother’s hand and gave the latter a big smile. “Ready!”

***

Anne hummed a happy song as she pretty much danced into her room, bags of new clothes in each hand. She had so much fun spending time with her momma. Shopping for clothes, getting her favorite coolant milkshake, just relishing in the fact that she should be at school that day but instead was out there. It had been a good day. It was something that she really needed. A welcome distraction of her own downtrodden teenage mind.

As she threw her backs onto her bed, she felt something crunch beneath her feet. As she lifted up her foot, she was surprised to see it was a piece of glass. Curiously, she bend over and picked up the shard and held it up to her visor.

It was a piece of glass, sure, but …more specifically, it was a broken piece of her visor. She was sure of it. After all, she had broken the dang thing more often than she cared to admit. She looked over to the place where she had picked it up. It was right where she had, uh …violently stumbled out of bed. The precise same spot.

But …she hadn’t broken her visor then, right?

Right?

She walked over to her mirror and leaned in close to her own reflection, giving her visor a thorough look. Nothing broken. No cracks, no scratches, nothing at all. Her visor was damage-free. Weird. Everything told her that she hadn’t broken anything. She was unharmed and still, there was a piece of her visor in her hand. It’s almost like it …

With a scoff, she threw the shard in her trash can. Maybe it was a piece she had overlooked after the last time she had unwillingly divebombed out of her bed – which happened a bit too much, if you asked her.

Now, she still needed to clean up her room and make sure that Hazel had something to be happy about when she got home from work. She wanted to make it up to both her moms for giving them such a hard time these last few days, and this would be at least a good start.  As she started to pick up her clothes, her eyes caught her reflection in the mirror again, which made her stop. She stared at her face, at her multi-colored eyes for a few moments …before she shook her head and went back to her task at hand.

Surely, it was nothing be worried about.

…

Right?

[ashyronfire]

Aloud, I Pray For Calmer Seas

Title: Aloud, I Pray For Calmer Seas Rating: T Characters: The Hollow Knight | Pure Vessel, The Knight Warnings: Mild Body Horror, Suicidal Ideology, Hurt No Comfort, Second Person POV, Nebulous Narrative, It/Its Pronouns For The Knight

Summary:

It means to set you free. There is nothing left of you to save, you think. (But you should not be thinking at all.)

Author’s Notes:

In July of last year, I read a fanfic that I became obsessed with. I basically devoured over 150k words in a single night. I couldn’t put it down. I started writing fanfiction for Hollow Knight in large because of that fic. The first one I finished was Eyes. The first one I started was this. Imagine my surprise when the author of that fic not only went on to read my works, but also became one of my dear friends.

I’ve been too scared to even tell you about this project, let alone show it to you until it was done, @dropout-ninja. Forgive me. I hope this surprise pleases you. This was originally in third person but since I’ve been experimenting more with perspectives/tenses/styles, I figured why not spend an hour converting the entire damn thing to second person.

Aloud, I Pray For Calmer Seas || AO3

Aloud, I Pray For Calmer Seas

It is brave, you think, looking down the line of your broken body. It is braver than you are, to stand in this place and not break under the weight of the sea. The seals hold you fast; you are chained. It does not break them immediately but instead stands to gaze up at you. It watches you with a quiet intensity. There are no words exchanged between the two of you and you are certain that is for the better: this other vessel, small and unruined by the world, is perhaps the empty creature that you should have been, and if that is the case, you will not ruin it by trying words.

You could not make them even if you wanted to. Every thought that you have is filled with sickly-sweet burning that runs so deep within that you wonder if you would ever be able to put the flame out. You are not sure that you want to, even should the opportunity arise. Is this not your punishment, after all, for your failure? Is this not what you deserve, for the masquerade that has cost your king and kingdom everything? To burn eternally? 

It inclines its head to you. It looks side-to-side, and then back up to where you hang lifelessly in chains. You are a corpse that has yet to properly rest, with little difference from the husks that wander outside and attack anyone who passes by on sight. You are certain that there will be no difference, if it should release you. You will fall upon it with your nail and it will be forced to put you out of your misery: misery that you should not have been able to feel, misery that spelled your own ruin, misery that cost Hallownest everything.

It holds up one hand. You gaze down at it, but your vision is a hazy thing, damaged from the pustules that rest over top of your eyes like a veil of sunrise. You can make out that it does not have proper fingers yet and why should it? Without your king’s light, it has never had a need to grow.

(Plants need light. You are part Root, one of three parents, and so you need it, too, in order to flourish and bloom. There is precious little of it here in Hallownest now, but once it was brilliant, pale and cool and welcoming – you remember; it was under that light that you grew, that you flourished, that you matured. It does not have that luxury.)

It touches you. You try to respond, but your legs do not work. You are numb and what movement you can manage is agonised; plagued, horrifically, by the plight of hanging for so long and with so little movement.

It is a comfort, you think, to know that when it releases you to take your place, you will be put down like the dying caricature of purity that you have always been. 

You wish that your executioner did not wear so familiar a face, though. It bears the gaze of someone you knew once and it is painful. You do not recall that face with clarity, but it brings to mind a fear you have no name for and that in and of itself is upsetting.

A word rises through your mind, and then another, and another: It is weak. 

Not the vessel before you, no. Yourself. You are weak and you are afraid. You are not brave enough to refer to yourself outside of third person in cohesive words. No, feelings and images are easier. They have always been but you do not dare call either of them to yourself.

There is something inside this one who stands before you, a titan in a diminutive shell, that is both frightening and welcoming. Cold and terrifying. Warm and inviting.

( – broken shells shattering, so very loud, against stones that defy all reason to fly, that hang heavily in the air – not you, never you, you are faster and you are stronger and you will fight your way to that light; did you push them or did they fall on their own? did it make any difference either way? do you remember? do you know? ) 

She stirs behind your eyes. You feel her, a nest of maggots writhing within your skull and seeping down through your remaining arm and into the cavity where growths linger beneath your armour and cape. You are a ruined altar on which she is worshipped.

You are the vessel.

Both the prison that contains her and the one that grants her eyes into a world that she is largely forgotten in. 

The Temple of the Black Egg is covered in wicked veining and filled with a miasma that could suffocate a lesser being: it chokes in your throat with each breath you take, soundless and heaving. You watch it. You let your gaze follow it, the quiet creature so alike to you and so different. 

It is leaving. It does not release you.

You wonder if it will come back. 

You hope that it will not. 

-

You are dreaming.

You can tell when you dream, although it is always hazy. Sometimes it is sweet memories, places you recall that remind you of a time before your imprisonment. Sometimes it is even your father the king that you see and you are at your weakest in those times.

You have prostrated yourself before a memory enough that you think that you can tell the difference. She delights in proving you wrong by unravelling them time and again, until you fray. You have not broken enough to let her free but the both of you know that it is really just a matter of time. A when, not an if. She uses those sweet memories like a lure and you bite every single time, in spite of knowing better, or perhaps – perhaps because you know better. Perhaps some part of you longs for the punishment that you know would come if you faced Him and He had to see what became of His beloved Hallownest at your tender mercies. Your failures. Your mistakes. Your flaws. 

You do not deserve compassion and you certainly do not deserve to be free. You are the cause of the ruins.

She speaks to you sometimes, to remind you of that. She also speaks to you sometimes to suggest that she would forgive you. It is a lie and you do not want her forgiveness. You do not want anything from her at all.

This dream is strange. It is not at all like the ones that you are accustomed to, where you break under tender ministrations and are reminded, time and again, that all of this could be avoided if you would just let go; if you would just release her and yourself in the process. You harbour no delusions and she does not pretend that you will live through the ordeal.

(you want to die. you want it to be over. you want the pain to stop. you were never meant to survive. that you yet live is testament to how much you have failed and how far you have fallen, how far you are still falling – falling, falling, the sounds of masks breaking, crashing against stones that are lifted into the air and float, in a place with no light but there was light, there was His light, and He was everything to you, and He made you whole and He made you strong and He would never forgive– 

forgive me forgive me forgive me

it should not have been a me –) 

Your armour is polished and shining silver. You have both of your arms. These are not things that you know to be accurate to the waking world. You are whole: the entire shining package, riddled with flaws, feelings and tainted by your own mistakes. You are the Vessel but you are not Pure and you have no voice with which to scream about the atrocities that will come as a result of this mistake. Of your mistake, for it is your fault, it could never be His. The problem lies within you, and you alone. You wish to atone. You wish to fix it. 

Why are you whole?

Why are you here?

It is not her realm, but it is golden and it glitters and you want to rip the pillars apart with claws and tendrils of void until everything below you is but dust. It is bright and you are frightened. Light is an enemy, you recognise this: light represents her. (It represents Him, too, but this is harsh light, you rationalise, and you are so, so scared–)

You think you might be screaming in your head. You think if someone could peek behind the eyes (which work, you realise belatedly: as if you never succumbed to her at all), they would find themself deafened by the words that you are not supposed to know or have, by the thoughts you were never meant to possess, and by the fear that is a tangible thing that takes the form of dawn breaking over a mountain forgotten to the annals of time. 

It changes, then. You are familiar with the manipulation of dreams and them shifting around you is not at all strange anymore. Your nail is in your hands, resting, and you stand looking down at the floor as polished black shell rolls out an ominous welcome: come to me to fail to die. Live an eternal masquerade as something you are not and know that you brought it upon yourself, that you made this choice and you would make it again and again, nothing would change, because this is what you were bred for, this is your purpose and your destiny.

You are being watched and it is not by her. 

There is movement behind you and you turn to see the other of your kind. It is back, but it is not your pathetic, broken body that it beholds this time. It sees you as you once were, as the Pure Vessel primed to fight (to lose against) the blinding light of morning.  It stops to look at you and you are overcome with conflicting feelings. You do not want it there. You do not want it to continue this folly. It can only end badly for it. And what? What ifit does win? What then? You will be free.

That is more terrifying than captivity. 

Your cage’s bars are your own making.

It turns its head down. You recognise the gesture as a bow. You understand, in that moment, two very real and agonising facts: that it is not pure either, and that it has no intentions of taking your place.

It intends to fight through you to the embodiment of fury that you hold within. It is willing to cut you down to do so, but only in dreams. This is why it left. This is why it did not release you from your confines. This is what drove it here – to this place beyond the waking world, where it faces you not in your body that will break under its nail as surely as leaves shatter under the weight of a stag, but in your strongest form. And yet – yet –

If it should succeed, it will face her, and she will hurt it, too. She will break it, as she broke you, and it will be your fault.

( – let it fall once – let it fall so close to the edge so that you did not have competition, so that He would not see – you owe it better – )

You bow back. It is only polite. You were raised by a king, by knights, in the Pale Court 

( – that should have been your home; that would have been had fate dealt you different cards. did they ever love you, could they? do you deserve to be? you do not. a failure deserves to be discarded and forgotten and that is what you are. never forget. hallownest’s blood is in your throat and you are choking on it, asphyxiating without a need to breathe; had you a mouth, you could cough it up all over the floor and have a contrast worthy of respect – you think it would be orange, though, for there is nothing left in you that is not – ) 

and you know all about manners and civility. You never needed them before. You were a statue; a pretty, elegant thing in the corner of rooms, talked over as if you were not there and you listened, you took it all in, you learned. You were not supposed to do any of those things, but osmosis trains a mind, and you have one, even though by all rights and design you should not. You would apologise for that, if you had the capability. To Him. To the thousands of your siblings dead in a place untouched by time. 

But not to the one across from you. It has a mind, too. You are not to blame for that, are you? Is it your fault, as the other weights are? Your frustration manifests in the form of a scream without sound and the armour around you is glass; it shatters, it trembles, it breaks. Time has worn through its efficiency, too. 

It dashes forward, its nail held fast, and you retaliate by raising your own. The metal sings in the quiet of the arena and the glowing white of the seals is haunting. It throws shadows over the floor. It throws shadows over you, too, and you use embrace them.

You teleport.

It does not know how to do that and you are certain that you blindside it when you launch into a forward slash.

You have not won in a very long time. You have not even come close to winning in what feels like an eternity. When did you last catch her off guard? But you have surprised it and that puts you at an advantage. You push it.

You call Soul. 

( – and who had to die to give it to you? you, who have been sapped of all of your strength, who have had it so elegantly drained from you? are you sure it is soul anymore? can you tell the difference between essence and soul any longer? would you know? is there anything left inside of you that she hasn’t ripped apart and used herself to fill in the cracks with? you writhe, you burn, you scream in silence and she cares not, she cares not –

what care has anyone for an empty, hollow thing?

the hollow knight.

you do not deserve to be called that.

you do not deserve to be remembered.

you must win. )

You use that Soul to summon tiny throwing nails that fan out around you in a crescent. Your opponent (your sibling –) dodges under them to slash at you and you raise your nail to parry. It leaps into the air, dancing as if it owns it, on wings of Soul and starlight and it soars overhead.

It slashes and it hits you; you recoil and leap away.

Nails rise up from the floor. It is prepared for that attack; it dodges artfully (it must have seen similar) before vaulting across the arena toward you. You attack again. 

It becomes a dance that should be merry; that should be therapeutic. It is not. There is screaming metal and the rising desperation within you to save it, to stop it from condemning itself to your fate, and to save yourself. You want to die, you think, but you fight like there is still life left in you because terror gives way to resolve and resolve is the one thing that has always been yours. It is the only thing she cannot steal from you, no matter how much she tries and no matter how much undulating beneath the shell her terrible light does. She cannot undo what makes you you. She cannot rewrite your core, and your core is defined by devotion.

To Him.

And now to it, though you suspect it does not know. You are fighting it, after all. You likely seem an obstacle to its eyes.

You would beg its forgiveness – you would prostrate yourself before it, too, had you the capabilities. Let the waves of the sea within its small form crash into you until you are swept away and all that makes you yourself becomes a blank slate. 

But you are a stain and you will spread your pain. There is nothing that can cleanse the sin of your existence. 

It drags on, the fight. You try to heal and spheres of soul keep it from approaching you when you focus. As the duration extends and you are forced to block more and more attacks, you become increasingly frightened, and it manifests in your void. There are tendrils now that you call sometimes, the tempered solid of your shell becoming pliable like the void that you truly are. You use them to keep it at a distance.

You land several hits. It has to heal, too. 

But in the end, you lose.

( you always lose. when was the last time you won? )

You bow your head and wait for a finishing blow. You wonder if you will awaken. You are not sure that you want to. What has the waking world ever offered you but pain? You are crippled by shame and disgust with yourself; even in your prime, before the Infection took everything from you, you are no match for this other vessel. It is what you should have been and you are nothing in comparison to the vast sea that makes up its being.

It touches your face with tiny nubs and you remember.

Oh, you remember, and you hate that you do: you know now why you fear the dark as much as the light, for the dark has every reason to be angry with you for forsaking it and it – it stands before you, a tiny form that basks a fury so deep to drown in.

It is not angry with you. (It should be.) It does not want your pain. (It should.) It is doing this for you.

You wish that it would not.

It presses its forehead to yours. It holds you and for a moment, the terrible shrieking in your mind that is your own and not hers, is silenced. You know a kind of peace that you have not recalled in so long that it feels foreign. You welcome it and lay your head against its; you touch it with the ends of your claws and the fear returns like a tidal wave. It means to ascend. Light dances over your shell and you lift your gaze skyward. You know what melody comes next: the song’s crescendo as it – your sibling, this other vessel – leaps up. 

You are waking up. You are afraid of that, too. Hope has ever been your enemy and you are a stone sinking into waters deeper than you could ever hope to understand.

You do not want it to win. You do not want it to lose. 

( you should not be wanting at all. ) 

-

You ‘wake,’ if it can even be called that. Spellwork unfurls around you like a cloak of light in the darkness. The sound of the chains that bind you into the air is sinister: they creak and groan. You allow yourself to look at them as much as your position will allow. There is a fight happening elsewhere, but you cannot see or hear it; it is connected to you, though, for the burning light within is silent and still. Occupied, instead, by another shadow, one who she does not know as well and on whom her tricks do not work.

It feels as though it lasts forever and you know the second that it is over. Your chains snap, all at once, and you tumble toward the ground, a flightless creature crippled by time and the agonies of your experience.

You land roughly. You hear your shell crack under the strain and you bow your head.

It has won. It has done what you could not, in spite of your best efforts. You will live.

But do you even want to? 

[rey-jake-therapist]

My first Sherlock x OC fanfic excerpt

A couple of weeks ago, after I watched the four seasons of Sherlock for the second time, I said I wanted to write a Sherlock x OC fic. I wanted it to be set post The Final Problem, but I also wanted to explore Sherlock's backstory in my fic. I tried to convince myself it was a bad idea, that I had enough projects, yada yada... But you know how it is.

I started writing chapter 1 and I want to share a bit of it, because... honestly I don't know why. Anyway, first draft, unedited, you've been warned:

London, 221B Baker Street, 2017, six months after Sherringford.

Bang!

Martha Hudson had just put a cup of tea and a plate of biscuits on her table when the loud noise of a gunshot came from the flat above hers. Mrs Hudson welcomed the sound with a grunt and shouted as loudly as she could,

“Sherlock! Leave my damn wall alone!!”

John Watson scoffed; he and his daughter Rosie were briefly visiting his best friend Sherlock Holmes and his landlady, who used to be his as well from the time he was Sherlock’s flatmate, so they could see their goddaughter. Busy working and being a single dad, he hadn’t seen his friends once in weeks. Sherlock had assured his friend that he didn’t want him to stray from his parental obligations and that he would be fine staying on his own, but Sherlock had such a gift for lying and hiding his true feelings that John couldn’t help but be worried. 

“He hasn’t started using again, has he?” John asked. In his arms, Rosie wailed as if she shared her father’s concern for his best friend. 

“Oh, I don’t think so! But with Sherlock, dear, you never know,” Mrs Hudson replied with a plaintive voice. She then asked John to take Rosie in her arms for a hug.

“Does he eat, at least? Did you notice anything out of the ordinary? Does he seem generally happy, or, you know… Agitated?” John insisted softly. 

“What ‘ordinary’ are you talking about? There’s never an ordinary day with Sherlock, you of all people should know that! If you’re worried about him, why don’t you move back here with little Rosie? You obviously still love him dearly and I’m sure having you both close would cheer him up!” Mrs Hudson suggested, with a tone of voice that suggested she still hadn’t accepted the fact that John and Sherlock were never lovers to begin with. 

“Mrs Hudson,” John started as calmly as he could, “I love Sherlock a lot, that much is true; he’s my best friend. But I think you will admit that the proximity of a man who shoots in his wall when he's bored, and chases murderers who sometimes try to kill him in retaliation isn’t the best I can provide to my daughter. Not to mention that there are only two rooms in this apartment, where would Rosie sleep?” 

“Well, I agree that it would probably not be a healthy environment for a little girl… But maybe her presence would force Sherlock to calm down, you know? He’s so good with her already. As for the room, she could take yours, surely?”

“Oh yes, sure,” John was now trying to tone down his impatience as he asked snarkily, “and that would leave me with Sherlock's bedroom as the only option, I guess?”

“Well, remember you said that, not me. I was going to  suggest you replace the couch with a convertible, but you do you!” Mrs Hudson teased him. 

Rosie giggled, mostly amused by Mrs Hudson’s laughing face. John, however, just groaned in response and took Rosie off his friend’s arms, muttering that he wanted to see Sherlock now. 

John found his friend slumped on his armchair, the gun he had just used to shoot the wall still in his hand. As Sherlock didn’t seem to notice his and Rosie’s presences, John cleared his throat and knocked on the door, unwilling to disturb Sherlock's train of thoughts by making a too noisy entrance; when Sherlock was wandering through his mind palace, he hated being interrupted. 

But Sherlock immediately turned his gaze on them and seemed as surprised as he was delighted.

“John! Already back?” Sherlock greeted his former flatmate with a confused tone that seemed genuine. “You seemed so determined to get back to a normal and boring life. I thought I wouldn't get to see you for two weeks, at least…” 

John scoffed, his eyebrows arching. “We haven't been in touch for three weeks! Almost four actually,  Sherlock,” he responded, before adding, tongue in cheek, “oh, the nice feeling of knowing you have been missed… Could you please put the gun down? I’m not very comfortable letting Rosie wander around this apartment with you holding a gun.” 

Sherlock looked at his weapon as if he saw it for the first time, and did as John asked. “Three weeks? Where did all this time go? And more importantly: what did I do?” Sherlock wondered out loud, clearly perplexed. Suddenly, his attention drifted on Rosie, who was exploring the apartment as if she had never seen it before. “Hey, Watson! Come here and give a hug to Uncle Sherlock!” He called on the baby, who walked as fast as her little legs allowed her towards Sherlock, who grabbed her and took a silly voice to make her laugh. John smiled watching them, amused by his daughter’s delighted giggles. Sherlock wasn’t always the best company, but he had always been good with children. 

“You tell me! What have you been up to? Did you get any… Interesting case?”

Sherlock scoffed. “The closest thing I had to a good case was an old lady who was certain that her puddle had been abducted by aliens during the night. Or maybe you’d call the case of a missing teenager ‘interesting’? Surely you would. I found her two hours later, cozied up with the boyfriends no one knew she had. I’m bored, John, so bored I swear the only reason why I haven’t touched the stuff in my room is the promise I made to Molly.” He showed his arm adorned with three nicotine patches. “No drugs, no cigarettes… If boredom was mortal, this apartment would be my tomb,” he continued, looking grim.

“A promise to Molly is a very good reason, though!” John approved, instantly relieved to know Sherlock had stayed clean. “I’m a tiny bit jealous I must say, in five years you never made the effort to make such a promise to me, but oh well. The most important thing is that you don’t do any drugs.”

“I had no choice. Molly threatened to forbid me access to the morgue. Can you believe it?! She said I would never be allowed take anything to my apartment if she caught me using it again. Ever.”

John gave a long low whistle of admiration. “It’s brilliant!” He declared, before letting out a short chuckle as Sherlock glared at him. 

“It’s blackmail!” Sherlock whined, before adding, “but yes, I can concede it was pretty smart of her.”

“You know, you can also just admit her opinion means a great deal to you. You appreciate Molly, and you don’t want to disappoint her again. You could just say that,” John teased his friend. “You could also say the same about me, for that matter,” he thought.

“I have no problem admitting that,” Sherlock grumbled. “Molly almost unscrewed my head from my body the last time she was upset at me; of course I wouldn’t risk it happening again.”

John laughed in disbelief. It was true that Molly had slapped Sherlock hard during the Magnussen case, but he knew he had himself done much worse when he had violently taken his frustration on him and accused him of killing his wife. Yet Sherlock and him had carefully avoided the subject; there was only one time when John had properly apologized to Sherlock, before announcing that he was seeing a therapist again to help him with anger management as well as other things… Like the fact that he needed help to cope with the fact that he had almost died drowning in a well because of Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes’ crazy sister Eurus, who also happened to be the woman he had emotionally cheated his wife on with. As Sherlock had admitted between clenched teeth that it was probably a good idea, John had attempted to convert his friend to therapy as well. Sherlock hadn’t outright rejected the idea that what Eurus had put him through hadn’t left him unscathed, but he claimed he was ‘mostly fine’ and would easily move on as long as he could keep working. 

Sherlock, who had let Rosie go after she had expressed with agitated moves that she wanted to be put down, let out a deep sigh of exasperation. “Do I have to murder someone myself to stop being bored?” He groaned; his eyes staring at the ceiling, he wasn't asking John. “Sally Donovan could at last tell you, ‘told you…”

[punkscowardschampions]

Teddy & Ava & Razan

Teddy: Darling, you have to stop being such a tease

Teddy: it’s becoming unforgivable 

Ava: If it’s unforgivable then it couldn’t possibly be me 😇

Ava: You must have confused me with someone else, again

Teddy: I’m begging you to be less 😇

Teddy: 🙏 the whole scene’s confused by us not being an us

Ava: Until a new cause celebre is found, naturally

Ava: Quite what is so scandalous about the idea fails me 🤷‍♀️

Teddy: Your rejection devastates me 💔

Teddy: if you still want girls you can still have girls, you know

Ava: Now, nothing devastates you, Teddy, that’s why you’re so popular on the scene

Ava: Oh right, that’ll be why, two bisexuals, so wild 🤪🙄

Teddy: Untrue, your party was fantastic while it lasted, what gives on the tragically early ending?

Ava: You wouldn’t buy my parents showing up early, would you?

Teddy: Hardly, but I’ll gladly spread it around if you like

Ava: A true pal move, can’t blame me for friendzoning you

Teddy: I can & I do 🥺

Ava: Lies, you were having a fantastic time, I know it didn’t end the second my party did

Teddy: Tell me truthfully, what do I need to do to win you

Teddy: converting to islam MUST be a last resort, no?

Ava: Say that to her face, I dare you

Ava: but I won’t pretend that’s a start 😘

Teddy: fine, I’ll take your dare, Raz doesn’t frighten me

Ava: She also has no interest, even as a beard, you’re yet to be the right religion

Teddy: she doesn’t know what she’s missing, conversion therapy would work if it included me

Ava: Christ 🤣

Ava: You looking that much like a poster boy really sells it

Teddy: But we’re off topic

Ava: True, do you actually remember how you got home or what?

Teddy: bold to assume that has any relevance to our discussion either

Ava: You should like that, you’re always bold

Teddy: & you never are, clothing choices aside

Ava: Rude, my sense of style is impeccable

Teddy: my point exactly, it’s the only time you live a little

Ava: So untrue

Teddy: if only 

Ava: We both know what you mean, don’t pout

Teddy: I wouldn’t dare, you can SO easily outpout me

Ava: 😏 Don’t you forget it

Teddy: Oh you could be unforgettable, darling

Ava: What were we discussing, again?

Teddy: Your self imposed curfew, do tell

Ava: You know I couldn’t

Ava: but also, it doesn’t take a genius to work out I received a more exclusive and thus better invitation

Teddy: of course you could

Ava: You’d only be jealous

Teddy: I don’t get jealous

Ava: FOMO then

Teddy: I’ve already missed out on you, it doesn’t take a genius, you & your disgusting monogamy, again 

Ava: We’re never going there, you tell everyone everything

Ava: I’m not dating anyone, I just couldn’t invite [however many peeps were at your party, roughly] along

Teddy: Blah, blah, blah

Teddy: you’re telling me nothing

Ava: Haven’t you got enough material or are events that hazy for you?

Teddy: Why do you insist on being this boring?

Ava: I’m not, you remember what it was like with Raz, some people like privacy

Teddy: Lesbian drama doesn’t equal entertainment

Ava: I’m not here for your personal entertainment, boy

Ava: I have other, better priorities

Teddy: I could be here for yours, assess those priorities 

Ava: Is it still my birthday? I thought you left a gift on the table

Teddy: I’m the gift that keeps on giving, naturally

Ava: Of course, no need for me to spread that one about for you

Teddy: You like privacy, I’m offering you a private party

Ava: Come on, you know I don’t need one

Teddy: I love to think about what you need

Ava: I’m all taken care of, you don’t need to concern yourself

Teddy: Prove it

Ava: I’m that thick, please 

Ava: Why would I lie? It isn’t like I need to

Teddy: Because I won’t take no for an answer

Ava: Take it, it’s all you’re getting

Teddy: You sound like your ex, the two of you must’ve merged into the same bitch

Ava: And there was me thinking you had a confession to make about [the boy she dated after]

Teddy: Ha ha

Ava: I’m not a bitch, you’re just jealous you got so wasted you got sent home to bed and I carried on having fun without you

Teddy: You are, you sent me

Ava: There’ll be other parties for you to prove you can handle yourself and your liquor, like

Teddy: it wasn’t liquor that did it, but thanks for your concern

Ava: I was so concerned, I called your fam, you should be thanking me, truly

Teddy: sorry they don’t quite have [the name of James’ rehab] on speed dial

Ava: You’d enjoy the holiday almost as much as me, bad luck

Teddy: you’d enjoy being truly 😇

Ava: Are you suggesting I ask around for the number of a good convent now?

Teddy: the outfit’s overrated but there’d be plenty of in the closet girls for you to make the most of

Ava: Enough unimaginative Chelsea Halloweens will do that to you, yeah

Ava: And never again, thanks, lesson learnt

Teddy: I did warn you at the time, perhaps I’m the real good samaritan after all

Ava: You wanna be a youth pastor so bad today 😅

Ava: It happened, it is what it is, I don’t do regrets

Teddy: Says someone who’s desperate for my parents to disown me today

Ava: They didn’t disown your brother, I knew you were safe, drama queen

Teddy: king, thank you

Ava: In your delusions am I repeating that

Ava: Call it internalised homophobia, if you like

Teddy: Spending all your time with Raz would get you there

Ava: She can’t help it, I suppose

Teddy: in her delusions god is real & not me

Ava: Some shit has long barbs, harder to rip out

Ava: shouldn’t we of all people get that

Teddy: ?? 🤔

Teddy: I don’t know what you could possibly mean

Ava: Mhmm, there we go then

Teddy: We’re only a we when it’s depressing

Ava: That’s poetic

Teddy: I have numerous talents you don’t care to discover

Ava: Someone should tell [his English teacher] though, perhaps I’ll put in that good word for you, since you think I don’t care

Teddy: You’re getting a taste for snitching on me, I see

Ava: Says you

Ava: Never stop blah blah blah’ing

Teddy: I didn’t even confess to you about [that boy she dated after]

Ava: Did that actually happen or is this a creative writing exercise?

Teddy: Why would I lie? He isn’t your post birthday secret fuck

Ava: An attempt to wind me up is still a possibility 

Teddy: he’s not still under your skin, he was barely on it

Ava: Now who sounds like Raz

Teddy: it is what it is, your words

Ava: If I just wanted to fuck her over, I could’ve and would’ve picked anyone

Teddy: I don’t care

Ava: You bringing him up, Teds

Teddy: you did actually

Ava: You reintroduced him into the convo then

Ava: You have my blessing, naturally

Teddy: I don’t require it, you’re not the godfather

Ava: But you get to be the king, boring

Teddy: 💔

Ava: Exactly, this is why you weren’t invited, spoilsport

Teddy: I wasn’t invited because you don’t know what to do with me unless you’re calling my family OR an ambulance

Ava: You just want me to decide to do something else with you

Ava: but you’re welcome, [whoever he was gambling against as we kind of alluded was the vibe] are going to kill you one day, you know

Teddy: who’s the spoilsport now?

Ava: Still you, it’s my party, I’m the centre of attention, deal with it

Ava: Yours will be soon enough

Teddy: I’m giving you all my attention, accept it graciously

Ava: You’ve got at least 3 other conversations open, guarantee it

Teddy: close, 5

Teddy: but I’m opening this before any of those, promise

Ava: 💞

Ava: You are funny, when you want to be

Teddy: I told you, I’m a lot of things

Ava: No one is doubting that, me included

Teddy: but you are & therein lies the tragedy

Ava: You think I’m such a boring bitch, you’d think you’d stop trying to bang me so bad

Teddy: I’m a trier, darling, I’ll never stop

Ava: the god you don’t believe in is the only one obliged to love you, by all accounts

Teddy: I’m not asking you to love me, I believe in lust

Ava: So do I

Teddy: I know

Ava: and you know, it can’t be faked

Teddy: you wouldn’t need to fake anything

Ava: No need to let it damage your ego, you’re just not my type

Teddy: No one has types, it’s [what year it is]

Ava: I could easily name 5 people you wouldn’t shag

Teddy: okay, that’s fun, go ahead

Ava: [soz to these random people we’re lowkey dragging here because there’s clearly something about you that makes it a no lmao]

Teddy: I [did something saucy that he’s kissing and telling about] with [one of these people because lol he is a slag and sometimes we know he fucks people for other reasons like manipulation etc]

Ava: I should’ve taken your lack of standards into consideration harder than I did… that’s my bad

Teddy: Or maybe it’s time to consider you are a bitch & being judgmental to poor [this person]

Ava: I wouldn’t say it to their face

Teddy: well done you 👏

Ava: And I’ve heard you say worse so shit in yours and 👏

Teddy: If that’s what you’re into, I’ve done worse, why not?

Ava: Just not with [this person], sure

Teddy: Not yet

Ava: 🤞 for you, darling

Teddy: Always a pleasure, Ava

Ava: I trust one of your other conversations just got more interesting?

Teddy: They’d all struggle to be less, you really outdo yourself

Ava: You know what they say

Teddy: That you’re the city’s biggest disappointment since [someone else we’re dragging}? 

Ava: Takes two to tango

Ava: but it was me that said we have no chemistry, we’re better off as uneasy allies

Teddy: I’ve never said I’m your ally

Ava: Don’t be a sulky baby

Teddy: I’m not, you have nothing I want

Ava: Sure thing

Teddy: no chemistry, no 🎲

Ava: Then we agree on something, finally

Teddy: yeah

Ava: Negging is really lame though, I hope you don’t do that to people you actually hook up with

Teddy: I’m a perfect gentleman 

Ava: Glad to hear it

Teddy: [rudely leave this convo because you are clearly bored she won’t be seduced or give you any goss]

Ava: [Winnie said I have to cash app him enough for a drink or whatever ‘cos lowkey bet you she could name 5 people and you won energy]

Teddy: [I wish I could pretend he’ll even notice but we all know he won’t because he’s so chaotic esp about money]

Ava: [Win is mad because he’s a chaos demon but it’s valid lol, soz lil man, your sort of soz/sort of peace offering is going unnoticed]

Teddy: [same Win, I’d love to be able to keep this going cos it’s so fun but sadly he’s a mess and won’t know]

Ava: Hope you had a ✨🌹🌑 time, sorry I had to cut things short

Razan: you know it

Razan: quality over quantity 

Ava: I couldn’t agree more, obviously

Ava: I’m just trying to head off rumblings that something went awry or God knows what else could be spread about before Monday 🙄

Razan: ive got you, I hear it I’ll silence it 🔇

Ava: You’re the best

Ava: I’d allow some scandal if any of it was even slightly true, intrigue never hurt anyone but when it’s just total bullshit, I’m good, thanks ✋

Razan: it’s what anyone who wasn’t caught up in the omg fake scandal of it would do

Razan: dead clear the who I’m ref-ing there 🤴🏼

Ava: He claims he’ll tell people my ‘rents showed up early but we shall see 

Ava: You never can tell with Teds

Razan: we can all tell what he was hoping for with that claim… what a hero, yours  

Ava: Definitely not how it went down, the title is still up for grabs 😘

Razan: never is with that boy

Ava: I can feel his 🥺💔 from here

Razan: like he’s in the room, uncanny

Ava: You two could be quite the duo if you could put aside the glaring differences

Razan: ‘I have nothing he wants’ direct quote from his mouth to mine and God’s ears 🥺💔

Ava: Spoken like a boy who’s not going to get what he wants, bless him

Razan: a toddler tantrum is SO hot though 🙄 it’s too sad he’s a boy or I’d be ALL over that 🍼

Ava: Of course, the curse of your sexuality strikes again, boo

Razan: ⚡️

Ava: You could argue that his existence is a sign from God you’re on the right track, worth a shot?

Razan: he wasn’t sent to test just me but yeah

Ava: That would be me

Razan: are we certain bleach poisoning isn’t a thing? 

Razan: what if his charm offensive’s really a cry for help, like, he’s suffering from some extensive brain rot

Ava: Now that is a story…

Ava: Would look like I was targeting the twink community though, hmm 🤔 I’ll throw some of the not-natural blonde girlies under the bus too

Razan: I’ll commit to streaks and very public breakdown by Monday if it helps the cause 🤪

Ava: A streak could never be a match for your big 🧠 so I’ll allow it

Razan: I’ll book in, I know diy would majorly add to the narrative but looking community outreach is a big commitment 

Ava: 😏 

Ava: Speaking of losing your mind, I can tell you something and it won’t go ANYWHERE, right?

Razan: remember where you are, granted he’s been blowing you up but Teds isn’t here now

Ava: That’s exactly why I couldn’t tell him anything, he guessed, obviously, I’m not saying it wasn’t a little obvious but he’s just so… 

Razan: you can tell me, I owe you something in the vault

Ava: I feel like I might explode if I don’t tell someone and it has to be you because you really are one of the only trustworthy people I know, sorry for being unbearable in advance 💞

Razan: unbearable you never truly is 🥰 don’t get down on yourself in advance

Ava: Okay but it is a man, so, do your dutiful lesbian friend best to act like you find anything about them appealing because he is so handsome it’s unfair

Ava: I miss him, it’s ridiculous

Razan: I’ll tell myself you’re talking about [a famous man we can tolerate because she isn’t such a man hater there aren’t any lol, it’s mainly just Teddy and boys like him who wind her up] 💞

Ava: He could be, he needs to be a writer, he’s genuinely talented and not in a showing-off to impress me way

Razan: giving him the benefit of the doubt even though it’s probably you’re killing it as his muse

Ava: [send her some of the things he did write about you, not the properly saucy ones lmao, or anything that points to who James is ofc, just a sneakpeek] 

Razan: he could be the next [namedrop an author he reminds you of because you have definitely read some classics in your time] I’ll admit

Ava: Ugh, it’s feeling like my turn to 🥺 but I’ll resist

Ava: I really want to get to know him, like properly

Razan: he isn’t going to write like that for a one-off, you’ll hear from him

Ava: Okay, confession time

Ava: It isn’t that easy, necessarily, he isn’t totally available 

Razan: recycling his stories for his girlfriend would make him the next [an author we’re shading like no way, we don’t see that as the vibe]

Ava: You can judge me as [someone from a reality show/soap/whatever kinda vibe that is a homewrecker and a mess energy, you know lol] though, it would be fair

Razan: it’s not my place to judge this time, you’ve stopped wrecking my home

Ava: I’m almost certain they’re not happy but obviously I didn’t ask

Ava: Not my place, not going to get him to come over, which is what I wanted the most, I don’t know, maybe they are and I’ve lied to myself 

Razan: I don’t think happy people cheat

Razan: unless he’s the have every slice of 🍰 cliche, did it feel like you were just getting eaten? 🍓😋

Ava: Girl 🙃

Razan: shh, in my analogy it’s meant to be bad

Razan: did you feel he was using you, I’m saying?

Ava: I practically begged him to come over, it was definitely my idea

Ava: and he didn’t promise anything, how I imagine someone after more 🍰 might?

Razan: no 💖💣 I’m on board

Ava: Have you read [the book he got her for her bday]? It’s really, really good 😳

Razan: Is that the 📖 where [dropping spoilers, thank god she has blatantly already finished it]? 

Ava: I know! 😭😭😭

Ava: He bought it for me… when do I casually drop into conversation that I’ve already devoured it?

Razan: when you want him to buy you another

Razan: but I’d recommend [a book that she thinks he’d like based on that one] as a convo starter

Ava: Thank God you’re such a nerd too, only you would come through with the rec and make my love affair sound like a ploy to acquire classics 

Razan: if by nerd you mean reading to fill a void while lacking my own love affair, yeah, true

Ava: I only meant you are my smartest and most slay friend, of course

Ava: and you know so many girls were looking at you at the party, like, SO many

Razan: also true 💁🏽‍♀️

Ava: It wouldn’t have to be like it was with us, you could do it differently this time

Razan: not THAT different

Razan: but it is what it is

Ava: If you come at it with brutal and continued honesty, there are people that are down

Ava: not everyone is as naive and blindly optimistic as me

Razan: brutal is such a romantic approach, couldn’t fail me, there’s no way 😏

Ava: Just maybe Teddy has it right for once, love is overrated and lust is where it’s at 🤷‍♀️

Razan: 😲 take that back right now

Razan: after reading [that book] you’re lying to my face coming at me with anything anti love

Ava: Okay, okay but mystery man did not just drop that book bombshell off on my doorstep

Ava: there is so much to be said for what he can do with his body too, I’m sorry

Razan: I know you’re not suggesting I’m anti lust, it wasn’t SO long ago you had lots to say about my body

Ava: I’d never suggest that

Ava: I am suggesting I could totally screw this up and scare him off and I can’t deal with that prospect when the weight of his body feels like it’s still on me

Razan: it’s a possibility, okay, in the sense we can’t ever discount madness happening, but it isn’t up there with what you’re most likely to do, try and stay semi calm

Ava: I just can’t come across like a liability, like I don’t get that he has other priorities

Ava: Don’t want to be naive again

Razan: you’ve learned from it, you aren’t going to make the same mistakes again

Ava: I’m sorry

Razan: it isn’t apologise to me o’clock, we’re good

Ava: Just telling him how I liked the book, nothing else, I could send that message and not have it be too much then, that’s your verdict?

Razan: it opens the door to him being told you’re thinking of him without you having to be 🥺

Razan: when you pout at someone, it’s a lot

Razan: I’m STILL not over it, maybe never will be

Ava: I’ll save my best tactics ‘til they’re needed

Ava: Thanks 😌

Razan: you’re welcome 😘

Ava: I’ll have to get a diary to go on about how 🍓😋 I felt, there’s no one who wants that info that can be trusted with it

Razan: for my sake, please do

Razan: being forced to end this friendship would be super sad

Ava: Virtual 🥺💔 doesn’t count, feel it

Razan: I feel it

Ava: Consider yourself warned

Razan: yeah, I’ve learned from my mistakes too

Razan: I’ll heed your warnings this time

Ava: What are you going to do with the rest of your weekend?

Razan: I don’t know

Razan: re-read [that book and the one she recommended]?

Ava: Solid choice, I approve 

Ava: send me your favourite quotes

Razan: no way I’m being that vulnerable in your inbox ever again 😬 I said lesson learnt like a second ago

Ava: 🙄😏 Spoilsport

Razan: tell it to your bff Teddy, you’ll score so many points, SO many

Ava: Wouldn’t life be so simple if that’s what I was after?

Razan: you’d be simple

Razan: and you’re not, you’re really, really smart

Ava: He’s not that bad, just not what I’m looking for right now

Razan: he isn’t good enough for you, damn if I’M not, he can’t be

Ava: You know you’re good enough, again, not that simple

Ava: or simple, AT ALL

Razan: I wasn’t, hands held up to it

Ava: You don’t need to apologise to me either, we’re good

Razan: I’m feeling sorry for myself, which is probably worse

Ava: I hate that

Razan: I wanted it to be simple, to get to be optimistic too, you know

Ava: I know you did

Razan: but it isn’t and it won’t be different for us it’ll be different than, I’m making my peace with that

Ava: We’re only 16, you have so much time to work out the life you want to and will lead

Razan: no 🥺💔 for everything I figured out too late, we don’t do regrets

Ava: Never 

Razan: have the most fun drafting your book review

Ava: 🤞🤞💞

[river-sam2]

A very long sunny day.(draft)EP4

Former episode:

somewhere in New York, United States.

An Irishman who was “Captain Magenta” till yesterday, was operating some device.

He wore hoody, pants and sneakersーall of them are blackー and he didn't use hair wax like usual.

Nobody will notice he is Patrick.

“I didn’t wanna never come back here.” He thought.

This area is near to where Donaghue family lived. it was a rough place.

“But I cannot escape from that problem.”

His hands typed something quickly and hit the submit button.

ーーーーーーーーーー

The Control room, Cloudbase.

Colonel White, Captains, angels and lieutenant Green watching the monitor.

Some engineers of Dublin branch are also sitting beyond monitor.

There are incomprehensible sentence in Spanish and Gaeilge:

“casa Gris Ghrian Nina seisear faoi ​​thalamh” (House grey Sun girl six  underground )

following that sentence, a line of numbers which seems like street numbers. And the next sentence is understandable English sentence.

“I asked ex-commander Fraser about helping the Donaghues.” Captain Ochre  looked taken aback, and shocked.

Patrick once asked him to do that because his current job is very dangerous and his parents are old.

Richard thought that he didn't make a promise just for this.

“I couldn’t escape my darkest past. Spectrum must not involved this incident.”

Finally, there are a lot of point and lines.

“It is the Morse code, isn it?”

Captain Gray said silently.

“OK. Let’s check the message”

The converted message was like that:

“I couldn’t tell you anything, because my communication system may have been intercepted. I couldn’t find the cause.

I gonna find Costello. Let the New York Police Department handle it.

“casa Gris Ghrian Nina seisear faoi ​​thalamh” (House grey Sun girl six  underground )

“Costello…?”

Nobody get any ideas about his plan. Even Captain Ochre couldn’t remember the man Costello.

“Did you receive another his message to Dublin?”

Colonel said.

Lieutenant Khaki answered.

“His first message “This is your loan from me three years ago.” may be that he need for help, because it means that I defeated him by hacking three years ago.”

he seemed to be staring at the monitor cord for a while, read a word:

“…Sunny?”

When he heard that, Captain Ochre noticed something and let out an angry sigh.

After a little bit long silence, he said calmly.

“Pat has a goddaughter, and her nickname was Sunny.”

[san-fics]

Felinette Prompts p.16

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6) (part 7) (part 8) (part 9) (part 10) (part 11) (part 12) (part 13) (part 14) (part 15)

(Ao3)

MultiFelix

(I remembered that I wrote several prompts for the Multimouse/Felix pair once in the comments and forgot to put them in the chapter)

Voice In My Mind

Every evening when Felix goes to bed and turns off the light, he hears a pleasant female voice talking to him. He thinks he’s going crazy, but begins to talk to the voice anyway, trusting it with his secrets, until one day, turning on the light, he finds next to his pillow the tiny owner of this voice, that wasn’t at all in his imagination...

Something You Need

Felix comes to the library to read and when he sits down at the table, something gets under his foot. Under the table he finds a black earring that turns red in his hand. But before he can draw any conclusions, a little Mouse-hero comes under that same table, searching for something. Meeting Felix’s eyes she asks if he saw anything unusual here.

Future Past

(used similar trope in Taken)

One moment everything is normal, the next moment Felix finds himself sitting on the roof of a building with mice running around him worriedly. Or rather not mice, but tiny superheroines who claim that they are his future girlfriend and that now is three years ahead of where Felix is from, and that future Felix, whom she is actually dating, was hit by an Akuma, has changed places with him and sent to the past. And if all this wasn’t enough for Felix to have a migraine, the mouse also claims that her Felix had the Miraculous of Creation on him instead of her, so she doesn’t know what to do...

*

Non-Canon AUs

Destiny AU

Instead of a bookstore, Felix went into a fortune-telling salon by mistake. The door closed behind him and the fortune teller told him that there were no accidents in life and that he couldn’t leave until she made a prediction for him. He reluctantly agreed to listen to predictions in which he didn’t believe, if only to leave this ridiculous place faster. The friendly woman told him his destiny, with the classic “you’ll meet your true love soon” and a few details, and finally let him out of the salon. But the worst thing is that the events she predicted began to come true as soon as he turned the corner...

Another Model Twins AU

Felix knew that he was a grumpy person, but having been a model for years, he also knew that his looks were enough to get him hired by top fashion designers anyway. Usually. But now it was about shooting a collection for February 14th, and instead of the usual stern thoughtfulness in the photo, he was required to look in love, and Felix couldn’t make his face obey. He would have had to give up the contract to his brother, if Adrien hadn’t invited a friend who wanted to do some sketches to Felix’s last attempt at Valentine’s shooting. And why is his customer so pleased with Felix’s work today if all he did was keep an eye on his brother’s pretty friend?...

Married Wrong

(Angst with a happy ending)

Marinette marries Adrien, to help her friend legally free himself from his father. Their relationship was long expected and doesn’t raise questions, so no one knows that the two remain only friends. They pretend in front of everyone – their parents, friends, and even her husband’s cousin, whom Marinette actually loves, and about whom she is sure that he will never love her back, especially now. Until an accident puts everything in its place.

*

School days

Partner in Crime

The first thing Felix does when he shows up at their school is pretend to be Adrien to play a rough prank on Lila in front of Marinette, and she can’t help but enjoy his performance. They start talking about it and Felix gradually converts Marinette into his mischief, pranking people over to amuse her, pulling her out of the depression that threatened her. Eventually, they start making pranks together, although no one suspects them of it, because outwardly to everyone their friendship looks like Marinette re-educated the evil boy, but instead Felix re-educated class rep into his partner in crime...

Not Dating

Classmates’ POV fic. Day by day and one by one Marinette’s classmates noticed that she got closer to Felix. Close enough to be considered dating. Finally all the class is convinced that the two ARE dating. The only problem is, not Felix nor Marinette seem to know about it.

A New Crush

Marinette realizes she has a crush on Felix after she got to know him better and, frightened by her feelings, starts avoiding him diligently, as she used to do with Adrien. Of course, she knew that Adrien and Felix acted very differently when something didn’t suit them, but she didn’t expect that in a week Felix would be waiting for her at her house to find out what he had done wrong to destroy their barely nascent friendship...

Felinette Tag list (ask me to join)

@mochegato

@thepapillonnoir

@snow-leopard-777

@loves-books

@turiankitty

@toodaloo-kangaroo

@readingismyoxygen

@aespades

@starlightshield

@jessigurl-design

@trippingovermyfeet

@apasponsor

@avs17

@fangirlingfanatic

@psychicdelusionwerewolf

@ur-beautiful-when-u-smile

@spicemallow

@kking13

@frieddonutsweets

@miraculous-panic

@ateneagirasol

@its-maemain

@unoriginalmess

@achaoticmess1

@starfire21

@peachayim

@starling218

@iloontjeboontje

@jennifer-rose123

@a-slytherinish-gryffindor

@wegetitethan

@jacimari

@hammalammadamdam

@rosewood1sedona

@rosesandsailboats

@soap-lady

@queens1234

@cafedeagua

@lizslibrary

[teashadephoenix]

I looked up an old friend today, for no real reason other than I thought of her randomly. (Actually it was her birthday four days ago. Maybe that’s why she was lurking in the dark parts of my brain.) 

Things did not end well between this person and I. We were friends for eight years. Most of that time was spent “breaking up” bc she was the type of person who lost interest in me if she got a boyfriend, and she had to have a boyfriend, but she had bad judgment (like everybody does when youre 17) so they would cheat on her or were bad boyfriends, or whatever. So she’d dump them and come be my friend again-- for a few months, until she forgave the boyfriend or found a new one. This was exacerbated by the fact that even when we were hanging out, we fought. I couldn’t tell you what we ever fought about, but I do know that I wrote letter after letter telling her I was done with being treated badly and that I didn’t want to be friends with her anymore. But she always managed to find a way back in.

It wasn’t until after my mom died and I ventured into the adult world that I really saw how abusive she was. She talked down to me. She talked over me. My opinions were worthless. She had no respect for my beliefs (she was always trying to convert me to Christianity by way of “casually” reminding me I was going to Hell if I didn’t.) She was openly homophobic at a time in which I was just beginning to really question my own sexuality. I knew I would never be able to be honest with this person --who called herself my best friend-- about who I was. I’ve also referred to this person occasionally when talking about my asexuality journey, because she was the one who kept trying to set me up on blind dates and could not accept that I was happy being single. (Which, I get. I get that it’s hard to understand where someone is coming from when it’s so different from your own place. But that’s literally part of being a compassionate human being: accepting others’ differences even if you maybe don’t fucking get it.)

There is just... so much damage that this person did to me, that still affects me today. She was my first real brush with a Christian who wasn’t my mother, and she’s laid the foundation for all the Christians who followed her. I still have a hard time trusting people who say theyre Christian, bc I know no matter how much I beg and plead for them not to, the conversion attempts will follow. She is why I have a hard time talking things out when I am frustrated, why I simply let things fester in resentment-- because I couldn’t discuss any problem that arose between us without calling a guilt trip down on my own head. Any criticisms were mortal wounds to her ego, and she played the victim until I was apologising for bringing it up. I know the narcissist’s handbook now but 16 years ago I did not. She’s probably the reason I don’t like having people in my house, because she used to come over and stay nine, ten hours, and of course I couldn’t ask her to go home, because she would take it personally. (And no, before you ask, I did not have any other friends. I had been convinced, a little bit by her and mostly by my own self, that I was bad with people and couldn’t make other friends, so I had to hang on to the one that I had.)

Even just writing this out is bringing back the anxiety that I used to feel when she’d texted to say she was on her way to my house. I haven’t seen her in years and it’s as real as it was the last day I saw her. And I’m so fake, even now, with people. I can have so much anger and frustration boiling under the surface and you’d never know because Im so used to pretending everything is fine. 

Anyway, all this to say:

It isn’t just parents or romantic partners that can hurt you. How we relate to people is built by all the people we know, parents, teachers, regular faces in the crowd. And friends. That is how we learn how to people, by being with people.

And anybody can abuse you, especially when you trust them not to. Friends have a special key to your heart and you must be wary who you let in there. 

Because friends who talk down to you are not your friends. Friends who make you feel afraid to be who you are are not your friends. Friends who give you anxiety attacks at the mere idea of them coming over are not your friends.

But if you let them have a key, they can trash the place and you are the one left picking up the mess. Sometimes that shit takes years. Sometimes you can think it’s okay, that everything’s back where it’s supposed to go, and then you remember it’s their birthday and everything just upends itself off a table.

[theanonwriter]

from the dining room table: part one

an: hi all!! this is a new series im making! i know its new and your taking a chance on me but promise you wont be disappointed. i know tjis part is a little slow but it’ll speed up soon. also, be warned that more darker themes will be in this story, along with eventual smut. 

word count: 2.2k

warnings: slight angst, foreshadowing to darker topics, kissing lmao, some fluff

pairing: fez x reader, maddy x reader (platonic), cassie x reader (platonic)

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

fez, nine-thirty-eight pm: 

yo

been hearing sum shit that’s makin’ my heart hurt

ash tried callin’ you too but you not picking up

lmk if i can help you at all 

i feel helpless rn with all this shit goin’ on

It had been four nights since Fez had opened the door that night. You’re still not sure why he did it, as you hadn’t talked in a year and a half. Thinking about the way you acted, the things you said, makes you want to smash your head against a wall. How could you be so stupid? 

If this all played out a year ago, you wouldn’t have been embarrassed in the slightest. You and Fez had been friends since first grade, when he helped you convert between ounces and pounds. But things changed. 

Thank God for Maddy and Cassie. Without them, you’re sure you would have been sent to some wilderness farm in Kansas. The girls had taken you in when you were at your lowest junior year, and the rest was history. Cassie had played soccer with you until sixth grade when she was cut from the school team, claiming she wasn't upset because now she could spend the new time skating. Thinking about the way you met makes you laugh now, because the thought of Cassie getting sweaty for any reason seems completely crazy. Lexi, Cassie's little sister, had been your study buddy and partner in scholastic crime for as long as you could remember. You never really had been the closest of friends, but you had a strict schedule of tutoring at six and book-talk and seven-thirty at the Howard house every Thursday. You’re glad you found them when you did.

“Bitch, since when did you live here?” Maddy asked, eyebrows raised as she shook her head in disbelief. The first time someone came over to your house was always the most anxiety-provoking, as you could tell automatically who was interested in your money and who was interested in you. “I don’t know? Always?” You asked back, nervousness lacing your tone. Maddy's head turned around fast, reading your face as you reddened under her gaze.

“Cool. Do you have like, juice or something? I’m so fucking thirsty and water would just not hit right now.” Her tone was cool, and it automatically soothed you. You knew she wouldn't care, but still, the whole situation frightened you. She marched over to the fridge and swiftly opened it, searching for juice. “Found it! And it’s the good stuff, no pulp. I fucking hate pulp.” Your dad had a job as a lawyer at a private practice, and your mom had been organizing closets ever since he hit it big. They have always been such good parents to you, showing you the way to treat people you love and people you hate more. 

“You want a cup?” You questioned, your eyes narrowing as a smile spread over your face. “Bitch, I want three.”

And that's how you ended up here. Maddy was taking a quick shower and getting ready in your bathroom after babysitting Theo for a couple of hours. Charlie, a boy in your grade, was hosting a party that night and Maddy was adamant on dragging you there. 

“And then Theo was all like, ‘Don’t leave Mads! Will you be back tomorrow?’ And I was all like ‘You couldn’t keep me away if you wanted to.’ I actually believe this boy is the most precious baby ever.”

She told a different variation of the same story every Friday night. You loved her though, so would never say anything. The way she spoke about Theo made you so happy, and seeing the joy on both of their faces when you came over to swim with them was the highlight of your days. Theo had been your neighbor since his family moved in a few months ago, and your sunny memories with him were laced with happy giggles and the smell of coconut sunscreen.

“That's great! Are you ready yet?” You yelled back, finishing your makeup and you looked yourself over in the mirror. It wasn’t your best work, but you still looked good as fuck.  Exactly as you should. Purr. 

“Almost! Can you get me some edge gel? Also, do we have mixers left?” Maddy asked, popping her head out of your bathroom door. 

“Yes to the gel, no to mixers. Why?” 

“Fuck, Cass said the parties out. Fucking idiot, all he’s been talking about for weeks yet can’t plan a fucking party.” Maddy groaned, rolling her eyes and getting back to her makeup. 

In fear of making her take longer, you sprayed extra perfume on your neck, between your collarbone and neck making sure that when you walked by people knew it was you. Maddy storms out of your bathroom wearing a little pink dress and black heels. She picks up her keys and grabs her purse before turning around to look you in the eyes. “Get in the car bitch, we’re leaving.”

The ride to the party was loud and chaotic, making you genuinely smile for the first time in almost a week. Maddy had already nearly crashed into two cars, screaming at drivers and slapping the horn every time someone got a little too close. You made the mental note to never let her drive again. 

As you drove some more, Maddy took a turn down a street that automatically filled you with dread. “Charlie's house isn’t down this road.” You expressed, fiddling with your seatbelt as she drove in the parking lot. 

“Duh. I’m not stupid. I’m getting mixers. Remember?” She turned off the music but left the car on. As she turned to face you, she sighed and shut her eyes. “Look, I’m sorry. But this is the only place open for twenty miles. You coming or not?” 

You reluctantly stepped out of the car, your feet narrowly missing each other as you stumbled to the front door of the gas station. You didn’t even drink that much before you got in the car, but being here heightened your senses and made you feel so out of your depth. 

The bell jingles as you walk in, alerting the child at the front desk of your presence. 

“The fuck are you doin’ here?” Ash asked, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“Buying...stuff. Why?” You replied, following on Maddy’s heels as she led you through the store, holding one of your hands in her own. 

“Why? ‘Cause we own this place. Where have you been? He’s been worried sick.” He snapped back, attempting to get your attention as Maddy placed your shit on the counter. 

“She's been with me. Can you hurry, please? We’re in a rush to get to a party.” Maddy reciprocates, annoyance in her tone as he rings up your stuff slowly. 

You watch Ash’s face turn from puzzlement to smugness. Why does he look like that all of a sudden? Did your awkwardness entertain him?

“Well, have fun. You might wanna limit the drinkin’ Y/N. You're already looking a little deer-legged.” He chirped, putting the bag on the counter and shoving the receipt into the paper bag. 

“Have a great day! Cunt.” Maddy whispers under her breath. “Ready to go?”

-

You couldn’t lie, you were drunk as fuck. You had lost Maddy a while ago to dance with Cass, and your feet at this point were practically all blisters. You finally found tranquility in Cassie's arms, grinding on her as the music bumped in the speakers. 

“I need to pee! I’ll be right back.” You slurred, kissing her on the cheek before running off in search of a bathroom. You felt so lightheaded, but your need to pee pushed you forward. Stumbling through the kitchen, you were met by a set of piercing blue eyes that you could never forget. Typical. 

That’s what Ash was laughing about.

Automatically, he’s by your side. “Yo, you okay kid?” He asked, placing his drink down on the table to get to your side faster. “I’m fine.” You replied, pushing past people to get away faster. Being that close to him made you shy, still not ready to process the feelings that resurfaced because of that night.

“Hol’ up! I’m tryna talk to you.” He chases you into the hallway, matching your steps as he jogs next to you.

“Where we goin’?” He questions, looking side to side as he nods to people as they pass. “Somewhere quieter. Can’t do this here.” You answer, shaking the anxious feeling growing in your stomach as the situation dawns on you. He promised he wouldn't say anything. 

As you enter a small room with just a desk and some bookshelves, you take a deep breath and plop in the desk chair. This must be Charlie's dad's office. 

“Holy fuck, you can’t take a hint, can you?” You pester, narrowing your eyes and you look anywhere but Fez. “I obviously don’t want to talk.” 

“I don’ really care.” He sits in the chair adjacent to you. You both sit in silence as you refuse to speak. You can hear him let out a breath, and the sound from the party downstairs leaks through the floorboards. Surprisingly, you don’t feel uncomfortable. You always feel safe around him. 

“You see the karaoke machine?” He prods, nodding down the hall. You cock your head to the side, shaking your head as you go back to staring at the wall.

“That’s ‘ight. I’m not finna leave you.” 

“Is that right?” You question, setting him up. 

“Yeah?” He answers, brows furrowing as you laugh drily. 

“You already did. Last year.” You gain the nerve to look him in the eyes. 

He sighs. “That was different. Look, I'm not fightin' witchu. I just don’ wanna leave you alone right now.”

“God, I’m fine!” You complain. The babying from all your friends had to stop. It was driving you crazy. “I’ll talk about anything other than what you want to talk about.” You bite out.

“Uh..did you hear about that new girl?” He asks, pulling a blunt out of his shirt pocket and lighting it. He takes a few hits before offering it to you. Extending an olive branch. You take it.

He always has the good shit. You cough as you inhale deeply, feeling the world's problems get smaller as you relax back in your seat. As you go to take another hit, he snatches the blunt out of your hand. 

“What the fuck? I wasn’t done.” You whine, giving him puppy dogs eyes and making grabby hands.

“Nah. You said you fine. You gettin’ treated like you fine.” He laughs, blowing smoke out of the corner of his mouth as his smile grows. "This, this is mine."

You slump your shoulders and roll your eyes. “Your brother was a dick to me today.”

“I heard. He said you wern’ too fond of him either. Yo friend? Maddy? Called him a cunt.” He looks you in the eyes. “You know he like twelve, right?”

“He was acting like a cunt.” 

“Watch yo mouth. That’s family.” He replies. “I saw you doin’ real good in soccer this year.” 

“Meh. Could be worse.” The weed has started to mix in your system as you and Fez are suddenly interrupted by a couple stumbling in and shutting the door behind them. You can hear them gasping and laughing, but they don't seem to care about you two. 

“Yo. Occupied.” Fez says, shaking his head. You go to look at the faces-

“Maddy? Nate?” 

They both step apart quickly as Nate wipes his mouth clean. Maddy looks at you sheepishly, smiling boldly and she grabs onto his bicep. When she looks at the boy in front of you, she loses her smile quickly.

“Is that Fezco? What the fuck are you doing?”

“Oh hell no. We’re leaving right now.” You answer, getting more and more aggravated as the conversation starts to turn on you. You stand quickly, grabbing her wrist and you storm down the hall. 

“Wait, Y/N, I don’t want to leave yet! Me and Nate are-”

“You and Nate are toxic.” Maddy looks at you again, venom starting to show through her face. You’re both intoxicated, and this can't end well. You know what you have to do, but your morals stop you for a minute. 

Screw this.

“Look Maddy, you wanted to be here. Not me. I can’t do this anymore. I'm so sick of being out. I wanna go home. Please?” You will your eyes to fill with tears, and with the strength of God they do. Her eyes widen and then her face morphs from irritation to pity. 

“I’m sorry baby.” She wraps you up into a hug. Her nails scratch your back lightly, and you swear you could fall asleep in her arms. “Let's go home.” 

You search the room one last time in search of Fez, but you can’t find him. You spend the rest of the night punching yourself for not saying goodbye. 

-

As you wash your makeup off, your phone rings. The screen lights up and fills your bathroom. As you look at the phone and see his name, you swear your heart stops. Maybe he’s thinking about it too?

fez, two-thirteen am:

do they always follow whatchu say?

you, two-thirteen am:

no, barely ever. I’m having a bad week tho, remember?

fez, two-fourteen am:

i believe you. well, goodnight

it was real nice talking to you btw

we should do it again soon 

when you sober or not crying 

You leave it on read. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

thats all for now! see you soon! :)

[sukirichi]

no guidance

pov: you ask your step-brother to guide you in your first time 

part of the everything step cest collab by @dilfhub​ thank you for everything! 💕

note. lol this rotted in my drafts for weeks but i finally finished it eeeee

cw. virginity loss, sexting, mild corruption themes, fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), possessive! akaashi-ni, slight dumbification, pseudo-incest (step siblings)

You knew better than to associate with the likes of Miya Atsumu. As if him being one of the most notorious fuckboys in campus wasn’t enough of a warning sign, his reputation was also infamous for being the “Virgin Killer.” In simpler terms, he took pride in corrupting the innocence of whoever was foolish enough to fall into his trap, and yet there you were, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you shamelessly sexted with him.

Unsurprisingly, he’s asking for nudes. Again.

It had been approximately three months since you passed notes with the said Miya twin (and of course you liked the worse of the pair) before your friendship escalated into something...more sexual. It was no secret Atsumu had a high sex drive, something you were still foreign with, so you weren’t really taken aback by his open vulgarity over his desire to fuck you.

The first month, you were nice enough to sent him a snap of your titties. Albeit still a little shy over not having sent anyone such an intimate photo before, you were beyond exhilarated.

The next, you sent him a booty pic. It wasn’t anything sexy since you were only in your campus hoodie, the door locked because you didn’t want your parents walking in on you trying to get a good angle of your rounded buttocks.

And just last week, you finally gained enough courage to take a photo of your glistening pussy, sent with a caption of ‘thinking of you...’

Now, you weren’t stupid despite your preference to act naive and innocent. You knew your actions would entice him to lead into something more, if his dick picks that show him already leaking weren’t enough of a telltale already. But as your phone pinged and his name flashed above your screen, the words, ‘meet you at Issei’s party this weekend? I think I’ve waited long enough’ loud and clear – your heart dropped into your chest.

Without another thought, you shut your phone off and rolled to your side.

The thing was, you’ve never really had sex. You couldn’t even be brave enough to lose your virginity to your hairbrush or to buy a dildo despite your friends’ insistence it was much better than an actual cock (quote unquote: both can make you orgasm, but the former didn’t come with toxic attitudes of horny college boys.)

Sure, you’ve watched porn, and you watched a lot – but nothing could compare to the actual experience of it. Your fingers could only get you so far.

Glancing at your phone that kept lighting up with texts from Atsumu, you felt something stir deep within your stomach. Curiosity? Arousal? Nervousness? Excitement? Perhaps all a mix of both. You’ve heard from all the girls Atsumu’s slept with that even though he meant bad news, his cock could be likened of that of  a blessing that converted them into ‘I hate him’ to ‘Gosh, I wanna fuck him again.’ Addicting, they called him, and now you were being offered a path to being on a path that most likely had no point of return.

You sighed.

The saner part of you warned you to stay away. There was no rush to lose your virginity now. Just because most of your friends had enough experience, it didn’t mean you had to be the same as them. After all, you came from quite...a strict household.

While everyone had been away from their parents and independently living in their dorms, you still stayed under the same roof as your father and step-mom, along with your older brother who was only a year ahead of you. Akaashi was a very sweet presence to have that you didn’t mind not experiencing that ‘youthful freedom’ too much, simply because your brother was a better company than whoever you could room with. He was kind, always ready to help, and you could confidently say you trusted him more than you did your closest friends.

Maybe that was the reason why you knocked at his room past midnight, shifting your weight from one foot to another. The faint sliver of light peeking from the cracks in his door told you he was probably still working on projects and the like, really not a good time to bother him, but you couldn’t hold on any longer.

At the back of your mind, this was the right thing. He was the right person.

“’Kaashi-nii...?” you knocked again, aware that he had a habit of listening to music on full volume while studying. “Are you there? Oh, were you studying, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to barge.”

Your brother stood in front of you, his headphones hung around his neck. He’d swung the door open to reveal that he was, indeed, previously hunched over his desk to work on something. Upon seeing the guilty expression on your face, Akaashi smiled at you in reassurance. “Hey, no, it’s fine,” he ushered you inside, setting you down at the edge of his bed while he sat across you in his swivelling chair. “Do you need help with homework again?”

“No...”

Turning away from him shyly, you opted to fiddle with your fingers as you stared at your lap. You had come here in a whim. You didn’t really think this through, and even though you’d been in his room a thousand times before, his dark blue sheets and tidy room that smelled sweetly of his detergent and vanilla cologne made you feel dizzy.

It didn’t help that he looked so mouth-watering in this light too.

Messy hair, long, slender fingers that absentmindedly spun a pen in those pretty hands of his, his dark eyes hazy and as welcoming as ever under the dim light of his desk lamp – how could you resist?

“What is it?” Akaashi quickly picked up on your silent worries. He’d always been observant, taking his role as your big brother seriously that he had attuned himself to sense even the slightest differences from you. Even though you’d only become family when you were already in middle school, it felt like you had known him for a much longer time than that, his warm hands rubbing soothing circles in your knees pulling the tension away from you.

“You know you can tell your brother everything, right? I’ll listen to you, you don’t need to feel scared or nervous.”

Guess it was now or never... “There’s this boy in my class...”

Akaashi’s eyes immediately darkened. All the warmth in his face disappeared, now replaced with a hardness you didn’t think was possible for such an understanding, patient guy like him. “Is he hurting you, forcing you to do something you don’t like?” his questions shot out one by one, and your eyes widened when he held you firmly by the shoulders. “Do I need to hurt someone?”

“No, no, it’s not like that!”

Your brother relaxed back in his chair. For a moment, your mind conjured up the dirtiest image of bouncing on his cock (and you know his cock is pretty after accidentally walking in on him changing clothes in high school) as he studied, but you quickly shook the thought away with a clear of your throat.

“What’s wrong then?”

You took a deep breath. “I just...I like him a lot and he asked me to have sex with him someday,” your words came out barely above a whisper, the courage seeping out of you until meeting Akaashi’s eyes felt impossible. “I said yes because of course I like him but...I’m afraid.”

“Hey,” Akaashi tilted your chin to look at him, his blue eyes pooling with worry and brotherly concern. “You know you don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

“I just don’t want to disappoint him. I-I’ve never done it before and I feel like I won’t make him feel good. That’s why I came here,” you peered at him under your lashes, tongue darting out to nervously lick at your lips that felt uncomfortably dry. “You told me I could ask you for help in anything and you’re my brother so I trust you a lot to guide me on this one.”

The silence in the room was suffocating.

You were so close to running out of his room and pretending you didn’t exist for the rest of your life because what the hell were you asking? He was your brother, he obviously didn’t see you as a woman. You bet in his eyes, you were nothing but a little sister, and there really was no stopping him from kicking you out of his room until – “You want me to be your first time?”

You looked up at him so fast you actually felt your neck ache from the sudden movement. Heat spread all over your body, especially to your core at the unreadable expression in his eyes, yet it wasn’t...bad. He wasn’t rejecting you.

“Yes, please.”

Akaashi nodded at your hushed words. Slapping his palms to his knees, he walked to his bedside table where he pulled out an inconspicuous bottle with some sort of liquid you weren’t familiar with.

“Okay. Nii-san will teach you everything, but first, I need to prep you.” Fuck, fuck, fuck, this was actually happening!

You could barely process the events that happened next as he discarded his shirt to the ground, exposing his toned upper body to you from years of playing volleyball. While you sat there frozen and with a frantic beating heart, your brother barely blinked an eye as he gestured for you to take your clothes off. Wordlessly, you pulled your top off and shimmied out of your underwear. Too shy upon being exposed to a male for the first time in your life, you immediately headed towards his bed and closed your eyes, breath heavy and laboured as you waited for his next movements.

Akaashi’s hand went up to your knee, and you flinched at the contact, relaxing only when his soothing smile greeted you. “Lean back for me. Just relax and loosen up, okay? I’m not going to hurt you, Nii-san will make you feel good.”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you did as he told. You were still shy, but you were feeling a lot less nervous. His hypnotizing gestures of caressing your thighs made you sigh in contentment as your head hit the pillow, legs falling open like it was second nature to spread yourself to your brother.

The thought had you biting your lip.

Before you could think too much about it, you felt a cool liquid being spread all over your lips. You gasped and clutched on the sheets out of reflex, staring forward as your brother stared at you cautiously, his lube coated fingers experimentally rubbing circles over your pussy lips. It felt so lewd for him to touch you like that – those same hands that always held yours in your weakest moments – yet it felt so good; the strange sensation tightening your chest.

“I-it’s cold.”

“I’ll warm it up for you,” he reassured, “How far have you gone? Any prior sexual experience?” Akaashi then began to playfully roll your clit between his fingers, eliciting a high-pitched whimper from you. He grinned at your reaction – so vocal for him already – and he was determined to hear more of it. “Ever tried sucking someone off?”

“No, but I’ve watched a lot of porn.”

“Porn is different from actual sex, baby,” the nickname fell so effortlessly from his lips that you didn’t dare question it anymore. Not that you could anyway, because the tip of his finger was prodding against your hole that was embarrassingly clenching around nothing. “How about here? Have you tried masturbating?”

“Don’t ask me such embarrassing questions!”

“You’re spread open for me already, you don’t need to be embarrassed,” You covered your face with your hands to hide, but Akaashi pried them away, his grip on your wrist both demanding yet gentle. “Tell me so I know how many fingers I can put inside you. I need to stretch you out.”

“Just one.”

“Louder, baby.”

“Just one finger,” you blurted out, finding it harder and harder to breathe the more he glided his fingers between your slit. Fingering yourself couldn’t even compare to the beauty of having him do the same to you, your arousal only heightened by his dedicated stare at your shaven pussy. From below your bodies, his pants had begun to home a tent.

“Two hurts a little bit and ‘em too sore.”

“What a tight cunt,” he commented with a smirk. “I’ll have to take my time with you then,” You nodded gratefully, about to smile at him with hearts in your eyes when Akaashi slowly slid a finger in. Your moan came out breathless and muted as you stared at him, mouth open in a silent gasp. The intrusion wasn’t anything new but he expertly pumped his finger in and out of it that your walls fluttered around him, head thrown back for another broken moan as he slid another digit. The stretch felt fucking perfect – the slight sting more than welcome in your virgin cunt that was now being fucked by your brother.

“Shh, it’s okay, it’ll feel better soon. Just relax.”

Openly, your slight squeaks of pleasure had increased in volume. Akaashi fingered you until he was knuckle deep, his other palm flat on your abdomen. Had you been in a better state of mind that wasn’t previously clouded with pleasure, you would’ve been embarrassed at the loud sloppy sounds of your pussy, but you remained there with trembling thighs, your nails digging at his thigh as you stared at him wide-eyed.

“Feels good?”

“M-more,” you begged through gritted teeth, “Nii-san, more.”

“Not yet, baby, you’re still too tight,” Sooner than you’d like, Akaashi pulled his fingers out of you. Both of you gazed at the webs of arousal between his fingers; your face painted in shock while he smirked at it, chest swelling with pride. Then, his eyes slid over yours, hooking his hands under your knees before he settled between your thighs.

“Come here. I’m going to go down on you.”

“Nii-san, no!” your protests fell on deaf ears, almost as if he knew you didn’t really mean it. His ears knocked with your knees locked around him, and you shivered as you felt his hot breath right before your burning cunt. “It’s embarrassing...don’t want you looking at my kitty like that.”

“Your kitty is very pretty and Nii-san wants a taste of you,” he mumbles while pressing kisses all over your pelvic bone, his sticky fingers massaging your inner thighs into relaxation. Your head pressed back harder on the pillows at the sensation, the pleasure too immense and he was just starting. “Didn’t you say you want me to teach you everything? This is just a few lessons you have to learn so don’t be shy. I’m sure you taste heavenly,” Clenching your jaw from the overwhelming bursts of ecstasy, you failed to notice how he dipped his head further, tongue darting out to lick a flat stripe. Your eyes blew wide open as he torturously and slowly dipped his tongue from your hole, the wet and warm muscle licking all the way up from your slit until the clit. “See? I told you. Heavenly.”

“’Kaashi, ‘Kaashi, oh, oh!”

“You sound so pretty but don’t be too loud,” Somehow, he managed to raise his arms and placed a palm over your mouth. “We don’t want Mom and Dad to overhear.”

Your legs trembled around him until you nearly suffocated him, but how could you stop when he was rolling his tongue side to side, licking and cleaning up the previous wetness he’d pulled from you?

It was too much, too good, and soon you were moaning behind his palm as you came all over his face.

Akaashi greedily slurped up the juices that squirted all over his face, unbothered by the mess you’ve made. He didn’t stop until he was sure you were completely clean, and you were already on the brink of overstimulation when he locked his lips around yours, sucking whatever he could take. Unable to take it any longer, you pushed his head away and fell on your side in a desperate attempt to catch your breath, sending him a seductive glare, only to soften as you his lips, cheeks, and nose shining under the moonlight.

“Nii-san, your face—”

“It’s okay, I’ll clean up for later,” he shrugged it off and stepped out of his sweatpants, ripping a condom you didn’t even notice he had. You watched with baited breath as his cock sprung free, the tip red and glistening with pre-cum. Akaashi rolled the condom over his throbbing cock and situated himself before you, pumping his length a few times before aligning it with your hole, sending you one last look of approval.

“You ready for my cock now? This might hurt a little bit. You just need to relax and I’ll go slow, okay? Tell me if anything feels uncomfortable.”

Nodding, you made yourself comfortable and braced the sheets for preparation, wincing a little as he pushed the tip in. Akaashi felt you clamp down on him, his hips stilling just as he loomed over you, his arms resting beside your head. In this position, you could see each detail of him – the thickness of his lashes, the love blooming in his eyes, the sweat beading in his forehead and everything soft and slow written all over his face.

“Still okay? I can stop if you want.”

You shook your head and wrapped your legs around his waist to pull him closer. He raised a brow at your initiation, but you merely smiled at him to hide the mild discomfort. “I can take it, just keep going.”

A few minutes later and a hundred still good? later, Akaashi had slid himself in. He allowed you to get used inch by delicious inch until he was completely seated inside you, hip pressed to hip and his hand caressing your cheek. “You’ve done so well,” he praised, “How does having a cock stuffed in you feel?”

“S-so full,” you replied numbly, the feeling of him throbbing inside your heat so fucking delicious. “Love nii-san’s cock.”

“Yeah? I’ll give you more then,” he warned, and you knew you couldn’t go back anymore when he placed his palm flat beside your head. Akaashi began to move his hips, slowly at first to let you accommodate to his length which your pussy hugged greedily. You were moaning left and right and his groans above you was erotic enough to make you cum on the spot, the pleasure doubling as your pebbled nipples grazed his toned chest.

“Nii-san! So big!”

“I know, baby, you’ll get used to it, don’t worry. It’ll feel better soon,” he rasped, scowling when you raked your nails down his back, though not hard enough to draw blood. It would definitely leave a mark though, and the pain of it urged him to move his hips faster, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through his room that began to warm by each passing second. “Feel better?”

“Feels so good,” you cried around him, reaching up to bury your head in his neck and clinging to him like a koala. It did feel so good, so much so that you just might get addicted to this. “Love Nii-san’s cock.”

At your words, Akaashi’s patience that thinned a while ago completely broke.

His pace increased and he gripped your hips tightly, sitting back on his knees just to watch his cock slide in and out of you. The lube made sex feel a hundred times better from how easily he’s easily punching through your walls, the sight of you splayed out for him – hair strewn across the pillow, little whimpers leaving your lips, breasts bouncing right before his eyes and abused pussy lips hugging his shaft – it made him growl with possessiveness.

“This is how you should be fucked – you gotta be fucked right,” he announced, thumb coming down to rub your clit. As expected, you cried out and tightened around him.

He faltered for a moment at how tight you were, but he kept pushing, driving his cock in and out of you until he turned into you a sobbing, slobbery mess.

“You sure that boy of yours can make you feel this good?”

“N-no, Nii-san’s cock only!”

“That’s right, it’s just gotta be me, okay?” driving both his hands around your neck just to clench your airway as a warning, Akaashi fucked you harder than before. The sudden inability to not breathe made you impossibly tighter around him that you felt each ridge and vein kissing your bumpy walls. “Say it. Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours, I’m Nii-san’s property!”

“I’m gonna mark you as mine, claim this pussy as Nii-san’s only, yeah? You want that?”

“Cum in me, ‘Kaashi, cum inside!” you prompted, and what good of a brother would he be if he didn’t grant his little sister’s wishes? Growling, Akaashi snapped his hips hard until the tip of his cock successfully kept repeating that sweet spot in you that you didn’t even know you had. You were crying, moaning, too fucked to respond as you came, and your lewd expression was all it took before he was releasing his cum inside the condom. “Kaashi, Kaashi, ah!”

Akaashi quickly pulled out his cock and took a minute to regain his breath, his head cradled on his hands at the earth-shattering orgasm you both had. Not a moment later, he’s tying his condom and throwing it to his bin, finding his way right beside you as you blinked sleepily at him.

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

“No, you were great. Just tired.”

“Do you want to sleep in my room tonight?”

You smiled at his concern, pulling him in closer for an embrace. He was warm and sweaty that it felt uncomfortable, but you wanted him beside you, and Akaashi began to caress your hipbones with so much tenderness. He knew he was a little rough for losing control like that.

“I’d love that, thank you,” you mumbled, more than ready to call it a night and sleep when his weight shifted off the bed. Akaashi rummaged through something in his drawers before he disappeared in the bathroom for a bit, coming back to spread your legs open once more. “Wh-what’re you doing?”

“It’s called aftercare. If your partner can’t provide this and pamper you, I suggest you break up with them,” he snickered, and you hissed at the sensitivity as he wiped away your cum with the towel. You soon relaxed, however, all thanks to Akaashi’s doting nature that you were falling asleep on his bed, allowing him to clean you up as he pleases. He set the towel aside and snuggled right next to you, his nose bumping your jaw to pull you away from dreamland for a little while. His previous sexual aura had now dimmed; his brotherly concern present again. “You still want to fuck your classmate?”

“Hmm...he’s really handsome, and I heard from the other girls he’s got a huge cock too,” you giggled, not really aware of your words as you said, “Probably even bigger than yours.”

Thinking that he might be offended, you almost apologized after a moment, but Akaashi only laughed as he hugged you tighter. “Size doesn’t matter. It’s who owns the cock and their talent in pleasuring their partner that matters,” he confidently stated, fingers running up and down your spine that brought chills down to your toes as he nibbled on your ear. “And I know I fucked you so good he can’t compare.”

[sassyhobbits]

rowaelin with their first child and they get into that stranger anxiety phase and cry with everyone except when they're in their mothers arms and it's exhausting but also adorable but rowan sometimes feels like a bad dad because his kid doesn't want to be held by him so aelin has to reassure him and then some day this phase is finally over - prompt 😢🥺

ok i adored writing this one. dad rowan is so much fun to work with. i hope everyone enjoys!!

~~~

In his over 300 years, Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius had been awoken by many different things. Whether it was a call to battle while sleeping in a war tent, a summons from his queen late at night, or a lover trying unsuccessfully to disappear quietly before dawn. Yet, none of these manners of waking up had filled him with as much dread as he felt currently.

He was woken in the middle of the night by a shrill shriek coming from the room that adjoined the one he shared with Aelin. In the recent months, what had once been a leisure room had been converted to a nursery for their new baby girl.

It took three years after Aelin’s coronation before they decided to start trying to have a child. It took another year before they were successful. Rowan counted his blessings. He had seen plenty of Fae couples take decades before they finally conceived.

Eliora was four months old now, which meant four months of troubled sleep for both him and his mate.

Rowan was instantly on alert at the sound of his daughter’s cries. He knew that they were no more than a normal babe’s troubles, but his instincts made him tense anyways. He quickly sat up, looking down at his wife quickly to see if she had woken up. Luckily, she still slept, likely beyond exhausted from the mix of raising a child and ruling a kingdom. If Rowan was successful, she wouldn’t have to wake up at all.

He got out of bed and swiftly stepped into the nursery, coming before Eliora’s crib. Her tiny face was pinched up in dainty outrage, small limbs flailing as she cried. Rowan took a deep breath, sending a prayer up to the gods more out of habit than faith at this point, and picked his daughter from the crib. Hopefully, this would be the time he could get her to stop crying.

The little princess shrieked and protested whenever she was in anyone’s arms besides her mother’s. Rowan’s included.

“I’ve got you, my little light,” Rowan whispered to his daughter, cradling her tiny body to his bare chest and lowering himself onto the rocking chair they kept beside her crib. “Everything’s alright.”

Despite his soothing words, Eliora still continued to cry. It broke Rowan’s heart to hear, broke it even more to know that nothing he did could seem to calm her down.

“Please stop crying, love,” Rowan pleaded, threading his fingers through the fine, silvery-blonde hair growing on his daughter’s head. “Your mother is so tired and needs her sleep.”

Unfortunately, even begging didn’t seem to work.

Over the sounds of Eliora’s cries, he heard the door hinges creek, and the sound of bare feet scuffing over stone. Rowan glanced over, finding Aelin walking towards him. Exhaustion weighed down her beautiful face, but her eyes were still full of fondness at the sight of the two of them.

Rowan looked to her apologetically before his face crumpled in defeat. “I can’t get her to stop crying. I’m so sorry, Fireheart.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, love,” she whispered, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his hair. “Give her to me.”

Rowan handed the squirming bundle of blankets to his wife. Aelin situated their daughter in her arms before she lowered herself on Rowan’s lap, allowing him to wrap his arms around her waist, press a kiss to her shoulder, and begin to rock them.

Quickly, Eliora’s cries began to fade away. Her face unscrewed, looking at Aelin with those wide, Ashryver eyes that she had.

Aelin began to sing a low, Terrasenian lullaby as he continued to rock the three of them. It never ceased to amaze him how good she was with their daughter, how quickly she was able to sooth her temper. He only wished that he could do the same, that Eliora would look at him the same way she looked at Aelin and not scream and scream and scream.

Rowan’s heart was full of love as he watched Eliora’s eyes begin to droop shut at the soothing rocking motion and the sound of her mother’s voice. It wasn’t long before she was once again asleep, the night perfectly silent.

Rowan helped Aelin stand, keeping a hand against her back as she brought their daughter back to her crib and laid her down. Perfect. She truly was perfect.

A gentle hand on his arm drew his attention away from the slumbering babe. Aelin nodded her head towards their room and Rowan dutifully followed, shutting the door quietly behind them.

“I’m sorry, Fireheart,” Rowan said again, drawing Aelin into his arms and kissing her forehead. “I know you’re exhausted.”

“No more so than you.”

Rowan could only sigh, pressing his lips together tightly. His emotions were troubled, and he should have known that Aelin was going to notice. She leaned back slightly, peering up at his face.

“I know what you’re thinking, Rowan, and you’re wrong,” she said matter-of-factly.

Rowan wanted to believe her, but he couldn’t help but ask, “What am I doing wrong?”

He had faced many challenges over his years. Wars and battles and tortures. He had survived them all and came out victorious. And yet, the thing that brought him to his knees, was the fact that he couldn’t bring comfort to his own daughter when she needed it. A baby had finally defeated him.

“You know you’re not doing anything wrong,” Aelin said firmly. “The nurses said this happens sometimes. It’s not your fault.”

Rowan had heard this what felt like a thousand times. It did little to soothe his troubles.

Rowan was good at many things. He was a warrior and a general, had stepped confidently into the role of king consort. His hands could kill and heal and build, but they couldn’t get Eliora to stop crying. He couldn’t help but feel that, perhaps, being a father… wasn’t something that he was made for.

It broke his heart to think. He remembered how excited he was when they found out Aelin was finally pregnant, how they cried and kissed and clung to each other, whispering about the future. He had been ecstatic, but also terrified. He knew Aedion, who had welcomed his own son into the world a year before Aelin got pregnant, had felt the same before he was born. But, Aedion hadn’t had the troubles Rowan did. He had stepped into fatherhood gracefully, and his son loved him immensely.

“Hey,” Aelin said, a bit snappily. She put her hand on Rowan’s cheek and urged him to look at her. In those eyes was a familiar fire. “Stop that. I know what’s going through your head. You’re a wonderful father.”

Rowan sighed and hung his head, pressing Aelin’s hand more firmly against his cheek. “How can I be a good father if I have no idea what I’m doing?”

“Do you think I’m a bad mother?”

“What? Of course not.”

“Well, I don’t know what I’m doing either,” Aelin said. “Neither did Aedion or Lysandra. No new parent has any idea what they’re doing. It’s part of the job.”

She made it sound so easy. Aelin had always had a knack for that.

“I wonder if there’s some secret behind it,” Rowan mused as Aelin tucked herself back into his chest and wrapped her arms around his torso.

He felt his wife shrug. “I don’t know… but if there was, I think it would be to love them. To support them. To do everything in our power to make sure they’re happy.”

“I love Eliora more than life. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her.”

“I know, love.” Aelin rolled on the tips of her toes and brushed a soft kiss against Rowan’s mouth. “Now, all you need to do is have patience.”

He chuckled. “Look at you. Who would have ever guessed that Aelin Galathynius would be lecturing me on patience.”

Her grin was a slash of white in the dark. “I’ve been told I’m wise beyond my years.”

“Who the hell has ever told you that?”

“People. Now, will you come back to bed with me?”

“Of course, Fireheart.”

They climbed back under the covers, pressing their bodies close. Aelin fell back asleep almost comically quickly. Rowan wasn’t far behind, holding his wife tightly throughout the night.

…

Another month went by and little changed. Both Rowan and his wife were getting little sleep during the night, leading to some groggy mornings. He had seen Aelin taking short naps at her desk or dozing off when an advisor spoke for too long. She would, of course, deny it if Rowan ever brought it up, so he wisely stayed silent.

Eliora still abhorred being held by anyone except Aelin. The fact that it wasn’t just him brought Rowan a bit of solace. His daughter cried when held by Lysandra or Fenrys or Elide. She had a particularly nasty meltdown last time Lorcan had held her.

“I know, sweet girl,” Aelin had murmured, taking Eliora from Lorcan. “I wouldn’t want to be that close to him either.”

Still, Eliora’s reactions didn’t deter Rowan from trying to hold and soothe her, though he had not yet been victorious. Patience, Aelin had said. It was easier said than done.

The sun had set below the Staghorns hours ago. Eliora was asleep in the nursery, Aelin was treating herself to a long soak in the tub, and Rowan sat in one of the plush armchairs they kept in their room, sharpening and polishing some of his blades.

It was an easy practice to get lost in. The simple, repetitive movements were a welcome distraction. A good way to cool down before bed.

However, his hands froze when he heard a tiny whimper sound from the nursery that quickly morphed into a shrill cry. Eliora.

Rowan placed his blades down on the low table before him, pushing to his feet and quickly striding into the nursery.

Eliora was wiggling as she wailed. Rowan wished he could read her mind so he knew exactly what was bothering her and how he could help. But, all he could do was take a deep, bracing breath and scoop his daughter into his arms.

“What’s wrong, little light?” Rowan whispered, carrying her over to the rocking chair. “What is it?”

Eliora’s only response was to continue crying.

Rowan sighed, wondering how much longer he had before Aelin got out of the bath and came in to calm Eliora down. He had seen Aelin do it countless times. She would take Eliora into her arms, smile down at her, start to whisper nonsense or sing a low lullaby. She made it seem so easy.

“Everything’s alright, Eliora,” Rowan murmured, switching to the Old Language. “I’ve got you. I’ll never let anything happen to you, little love.”

And then, something amazing happened.

Slowly, Eliora’s cries began to fade away to a whimper and then, to nothing at all. Rowan held his breath, worrying that one wrong move would put her back into a fit of hysterics. His daughter slowly opened her eyes and peered up at him.

Rowan smiled down at her. “You’re just as lovely as your mother. Just as stubborn, too.”

And then, as if she understood his little joke, Eliora flashed him a gummy smile. The shift in expression floored him. She had never given him a smile before.

Rowan felt his throat tighten and his eyes begin to burn, but he smiled back at the tears welled up. A tiny laugh escaped his throat. Finally, finally, he had done it.

Eliora’s chubby arms reached up. Rowan held out a finger, letting her wrap a tiny hand around it. He always forgot just how small she was.

“I love you more than you could possibly know, Eliora.”

He was too distracted by his daughter and the little grip she had on his finger to notice that Aelin had entered the nursery until she was almost upon them. Rowan looked up at his wife, knowing that his eyes were still watery and there were likely tear tracks streaking down his cheeks. Regardless, he beamed.

“It would seem, once again, that I was right,” Aelin said with a triumphant smirk.

“As you often are, my love.”

She laughed and dropped a kiss to his forehead before draping her arms over his shoulders, leaning over and watching their daughter, who was studying them with wide eyes. Once again, Eliora smiled. Rowan would never tire of the sight.

“She looks like you when she smiles,” Aelin mused.

“You think?”

She nodded slowly, reaching out and running her knuckles along the smooth curve of Eliora’s cheek. “I still can’t believe she’s ours. She’s just so… perfect.”

“Like her mother.”

Aelin snorted. “Kiss ass.”

“Maybe a little.”

They faded into silence, simply standing there, wrapped up in their little, blossoming family. They stood there until Eliora’s eyes fluttered shut once more and she drifted off into a peaceful sleep. One she enjoyed for the entirety of the night.

Rowan didn’t know what he had done to deserve such bliss, but he knew it must have been something good.

[finelinevogue]

Thanks can you write something about one of the kids getting hate online from jealous people and how it affects them and what Harry and Y/N do

hello!! so this one is going to be about isabelle getting hate (😔), which you will find out why. i’m also changing the age gaps between them because it’s so hard to write with larger age gaps. so here isabelle is 16, felix is 19 and oli is 21!!

“Mum!”

You had been busy ironing the clothes downstairs, whilst watching ‘Call the Midwife’ on the TV, when you heard Felix shouting you from upstairs.

“What?” You shouted back, moving from the lounge to the bottom of the stairs to hear better.

“I think you should see this.”

When your children say things like this you either roll your eyes when you find out they wanted to show you a meme, or panic because some rumour has been spread all over the internet of them.

“Just hang on a minute!” Your attention diverted to the front door being opened harshly. Everyone else was already home but Belle, so it must’ve been her. It was a Wednesday today and Belle always had study group in the library after-school on a Wednesday, although today she was back a little earlier than normal.

You moved the latch off the porch door and opened it to welcome Belle home, watching as she threw off her high-top converse aggressively.

“Hiya love, you alr—” You didn’t get to finish before you saw that her eyes were red and puffy, tears streaming down her face like a cascading waterfall. Her mascara was smudged and made it look like she hadn’t slept for weeks. “Woah, hey, Belle?”

Belle didn’t listen to you though, instead she stormed past and ran up the stairs and a minute later you heard her bedroom door slam shut.

What the fuck was that about?

“Minute too late mum!” Felix shouted again, making you roll your eyes in annoyance. However, it did confirm that something had happened to Belle on social media or over the internet and you had to get Harry on top of this now.

You walked down the stairs, into your basement - which Harry had converted into a sound-proof studio - and saw him sat with a guitar on his lap and pencil between his teeth, playing around with chords on repeat.

“Babe?” You knocked on the door as you spoke, Harry looking up from where he was sat to you and smiling as bright as ever.

“You alright love?” He asked sweetly, taking the pencil out of his mouth first.

“I am yeah, but Belle’s just come home crying and shut herself in her room.” You furrowed your eyebrows, trying to work through everything that had happened and wondering whether you’d done something or not done something.

Harry instantly got to his feet, putting everything down so that he could come over to you. He placed his warm hands on your cheeks and kissed your lips once just because, “I know what you’re thinking, so stop it. Something’s probably happened at school. Let me go talk to her, okay?” You nodded in agreement and sighed in thanks.

Belle had always been more of a daddy’s girl than a mommy’s girl, and that was okay. It just meant that she was more open to her feelings and her heart with her dad than you, not to say she never talked to you about things like that. Harry always filled you in on things, though, and would prompt you to talk to her if he thought extremely necessary. Belle liked to work things out by herself normally, not liking to be a burden to anyone - a lot like you actually.

Harry walked out of the room and climbed the stairs two at a time until he made it outside Belle’s room. He knocked before entering, but Belle made no sound for him to enter.

“Belles?” Harry asked softly, shutting the door and walking over to her bed which she was curled up on. She had obviously flopped on the bed and began crying, because there was no sign of effort to get under the covers or get comfortable.

“D-dad?” She mumbled roughly, her choked sobs holding her back.

“Yes sweetheart, i’m here.” Harry sat down on the edge of her bed and sat their patiently. He didn’t want to invade her space or make her feel claustrophobic, so he waited for her to come to him and that didn’t take long. She sprang up and hugged him with her head buried against her dad’s chest, sobbing so violently that Harry’s heart cracked in two. He hated to see his baby cry. It was his biggest weakness.

Belle made an attempt to speak but Harry couldn’t understand due to the shear heaviness of her cries.

“Belles, y’gotta calm down for me, my heart. Gotta breathe it out before you make yourself sick.” He smoothed his hand over the back of her hair, like he’d always done. Her breathing ever-so-slowly coming back down to a normal and healthy pace. “That’s it, thank you.” He kissed the top of her head and held her tightly still.

“Dad?” She shakily started.

“Yes love.”

“Do y-you know?” She sat up so she could face her dad, bur Harry didn’t let his hands leave hers.

“Know what, sweetheart?”

Harry genuinely didn’t know and Belle could see that in his honest, kind, eyes.

“T-that…” Belle started tearing up again, her bottom lip wobbling like sailors legs.

“Hey, calm down. You’re okay. Breathe and then talk to me, okay?” Harry ordered her, not caring if this took all night. He was here for his baby girl whenever and wherever, no exceptions. If she didn’t ever tell him, that was okay as long as he helped her build up her happiness again. A few deep breaths later and she was feeling more comfortable.

“I..,” she paused momentarily to collect her words before letting them flow out beautifully, “i’m gay dad.”

Warmth spread through Harry’s heart as if he were torch that’d just been set alight. He could only put the way he felt into one word; proud. He was so proud that his daughter was turning into the loving and open and beautiful woman she was always born to be. He was also just so happy that she had the confidence in him to tell him something so important to her.

“I’m so proud of you, Belle.”

“Really?” She sounded surprised, which made Harry take a step back in confusion.

“Yes of course,” Harry squeezed her hand just a little tighter, “have I ever given you a reason to think otherwise?”

“No.”

“Then where’s this doubt coming from hey?”

Belle began to cry again at his question.

“T-the media found out and i-it’s been published everywhere a-and I w-was worried I wouldn’t b-be able to tell you myself b-before they could. They’re being s-so rude too.” Her cries broke Harry all over again. As much as he was proud of her for coming out so bravely, he was incredibly pissed off that the media thought it was there business to pass around before Belle was even comfortable admitting it first. It’s Belle’s right to come out when she wants and how she wants and Harry could understand how frustrating and upsetting that must be to have it all taken away. He had to keep calm for Belle though, pulling her back into his chest to hold her safely.

“What are they saying?”

Anger bubbled through Harry’s veins as she began to speak.

“That i’m only gay to promote the values you stand for or that you’ll be disappointed that not all your children are straight.”

Harry’s fingers curled at her words, not understanding how much of a low-life you have to be to genuinely type and publish these things about a child, let alone his child. He was furious and he was going to burn - metaphorically - the people responsible for this abuse.

“How did they find out?”

Instead of her saying anything she pulled up a picture of the article online - released by ‘The Sun’ unsurprisingly as they were the worst for paparazzi stalking - and it all started to piece together.

The article headlined a picture of Belle and another girl, kissing outside of school. The study group mustn’t have been exclusively studying. Harry didn’t focus on the shitty article, he instead focused on how the smile on Belle’s face was the widest he’d ever seen.

“You look very happy.” Harry tried to make light of the situation for his daughter.

“I am. They make me very happy.” Belle blushed and Harry caught on.

“And they’re called?”

“Megan.”

“Megan,” Harry repeated the name, getting a feel for the way it sounded for future use, “well they seem lovely.”

“Dad you’ve only seen them through a picture of us kissing.” Belle rolled her eyes and Harry reached out to dab the tears away, not minding that his sleeve was becoming heavily damp.

“Shut up you,” he laughed causing a smile to leap onto Belles face too, “do we get to meet them?”

“Hopefully,” Belle smiles, before looking down to her lap with furrowed brows, “that is, if they still like me after this whole media shambles.” Belle let out a breathe of shaky air and Harry caught her anxiety before she could let herself run off with it.

“Let me take care of that, don’t worry yourself over it, okay?” Belle nodded.

“Do I have to make like a statement or anything?”

“You do whatever you want to, Belles, and i’ll love you no matter what.”

And with that Harry left the room, a smile on his face for feeling like the proudest most happiest parent on the planet. It only lasted a few minutes though, because now it was time to make some phone calls and sue a few people.

[moonbcams]

❃ ↷ ˊ-          pelican town is all abuzz about YOON AHNA, our resident 25-year old BARISTA. you know, the one who looks like IM NAYEON? i don’t see it, but maybe that’s just because they remind me of running through fields of flowers, singing along to perfect road trip playlists, & dancing in the moonlight every time i see them at THE BEACH. word around town is that they’re increasingly FREE-SPIRITED and INQUISITIVE, but can get rather ALOOF. hope to see them around the valley soon! 

hiiiii i’m mimi ( 𝕞𝕚𝕞𝕚#7025 ) and i am so very very excited to be here !! i’ve been listening to nayeon all day which very much inspired me to find an rp where i could play her beautiful face. i also just started my summer break so i’m looking forward to getting very invested and making grand plots and bugging you all all the time ok sorry in advance  x.

BASIC INFORMATION

full  name :  yoon ahna  nickname(s)  :  anna, nana, yoonie preferred  name(s)  : ahna  birth  date  :  december 24th 1997  age :  twenty five  zodiac :  capricorn gender  :  cis female  pronouns :  she / her  romantic  orientation :  biromantic  sexual  orientation : bisexual  nationality  :    ethnicity :  asian

BACKGROUND

birth  place  :  pelican town  ,  stardew valley hometown :  pelican town  ,  stardew valley  social  class :  middle class  father  : yoon dae-min  mother :  cha sooyoung  sibling(s) :  n/a  pet(s)  :  jae & duri ( rescue cats )  previous  relationship(s) :  tba.

PHYSICAL  APPEARANCE  &  CHARACTERISTICS  

eye  color  : dark brown  hair  color  : changes frequently depending on her mood  glasses  /  contacts  :  doesn’t need them but will sometimes wear glasses without prescription for the aesthetic  height  : 5′4″  build  :  petite   exercise  habits  :  can sometimes be convinced to workout, but not often.

MANNERISMS

accent :  local accent quirks :  is never fully still  ,  she is always tapping ,  bouncing  ,  wiggling  ,  or dancing  ,  she hums all the time. . hobbies  :  dancing  ,  going for long drives  ,  thrift shopping habits  :    is always late to everything, looses everything all the time  nervous  ticks  :  fidgets a lot  fears  :  heights  positive  traits  :  free spirited, friendly, charming  negative  traits  : careless, flakey

IMPORTANT  /  BACKGROUND

TW: death of parents.

yoon ahna was born on a cold night in december to a middle class family. she was the only child of dae-min and sooyoung and the apple of their eye. she grew up living in her birthplace of pelican town, running around without a care in the world. life was easy. her parents ran a busy restaurant that gave them a steady income, even extra money during the summer months when the area was loaded with tourists and they had a home that was warm and welcoming to all.

ahna was always well liked. she was even considered popular in school, her free spirt and kind heart attracting people to her like moths to a flame. she was a social butterfly, spending more time in class talking to those around her than actually paying attention to the lesson and doodling in all her notebooks. she did just well enough in her studies to make it to graduation. however, she was involved in every other aspect of school life that wasn’t her studies. she was on the student council, a cheerleader, prom queen, dance committee, and even acted in theatre productions. when she wasn’t in school she could be found down on the beach, dancing in the waves, riding her convertible down the highway with the music on full blast and the sound of her laugher always echoed in her wake. ahna was a source of light. 

though, she wasn’t perfect. ahna was always forgetting her curfew, she lost almost everything and you couldn’t rely on her for much. she had the best of intentions at all times but her head was very much in the clouds. she was a daydreamer and would have lost her own head if it wasn’t attached. her carefree attitude was as much of a nuisance as it was an asset. she was so free-spirited that it often appeared she didn’t truly care about anything or anyone. you wanted to be around her but you could never really know her and she never really took the time to know anyone else, everything was at a superficial level.

after graduation, she managed to get into college only a few towns over. this was huge for the yoon family who never really ventured far from their hometown. ahna had decided to study cosmetology. she was to become a make-up artist and hair dresser. it was something she was already somewhat confident with and knew it would be a successful career path. she was good at talking to people and loved the idea of making other’s feel as beautiful on the outside as they were on the inside. not to mention, everyone always talked about how she would be the perfect fit to go off and work in los angeles. it would be a dream to be on movie sets or tours, working for the stars she adored.

however, she was less than a year into her program when tragedy struck. ahna’s parents were in a head-on collision, driving to surprise her with a visit. both died on impact and the young yoon’s whole world was turned upside down. she immediately pulled out of school to return to her hometown. she found comfort in being surrounded by the community who had helped raise her and those who knew her parents as well as she did, if not better. 

the first year, it was like she was walking around in a fog. she has very few memories after packing up and leaving school and packing up her childhood home and parents belongings. that first year she was far from the same girl that had left stardew valley. she had lost her spark. which was understandable. but the bright star who was off to work for the stars of hollywood was gone. she was a drifter, no plan, no job, couch surfing and having no intentions of moving forward.

though, after time it got easier and she started to find herself again. it was a slow process but being in her hometown was certainly helpful, having people to rally around her and support her no matter what. it started when she was offered a job at the cafe to keep her busy, then when she was sold a small beachside cottage at a very discounted price to make her home, then finally she would find herself smiling and laughing -- breathing made easier. it took time but ahna’s community became her family. 

now, ahna can be found cheerily chatting with locals and guests as she serves them coffee. she is bubbly and still a little scatterbrained, she’s the life of the party and very reminiscent of the girl she was in high school -- but with a sadness that never fully goes away. sometimes she’ll disappear for a day or two, only to show up again like nothing happened. she never tells anyone when she’s leaving or why, she just goes. 

WANTED CONNECTIONS / PLOTS

platonic  ───  unlikely  friends ,  friend from college  ,  a  nice  wholesome  best  friend  &  confidant  ,  childhood friends  ,  a  party  buddy  ,  someone who is also as free spirited as ahna and they go on adventures together  , neighbours. , any other form of friendship really

romantic  ───  first  kiss  /  first  relationship  /  first  love,  a  past  or  present  unrequited  crush  from  either  side ,  exes  on  good  or  bad  terms  (  eyes  emoji  .......  the  spice  )  ,  friends  with  benefits ,  a one  night  stand

negative  ───  someone  who  just  doesn't  click  with  them  ( this is probably someone more uptight who can’t stand how ahna seems to not have a care in the world ),  friends  who  had  a  falling  out  ,  anything else to bring the d r a m a 

[oitommothetease]

Invisible String (9/?)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female reader (Modern AU)

Word Count: 2k words

You weren't a morning person, hell, you weren’t even a person in the morning. Therefore, when you woke up to two kids playing with your hair and jumping on your bed, you wanted to strangle them or shove them on the floor. But again, you loved those little demons so you just groaned loudly, clearly irritated and you decided to keep your eyes closed, hoping that your ignorance will make them leave you alone. You squeezed your eyes shut and didn't open them until you heard a familiar voice chuckling.

“Carol told me you aren't a morning person, but this-” James didn't finish his sentence, his lips breaking into a cheeky grin, and as much annoyed as you were at his teasing, you kind of thought he looked gorgeous. Who looked so gorgeous this early in the morning? A smile made its way to your face and you instantly wiped it off, feigning offense.

“Carol? You're already on a first-name basis with my sister?”

“Aw, don't worry, doll. I'm just trying to be friendly with your family or should I say my future family as your mother reminded me ten minutes ago,” he pestered, moving towards you to hand you the cup of coffee in his hand. Bucky winked teasingly when you accepted it, and you mumbled a ‘thank you’.

That pet name made your stomach do some somersaults and you didn't trust yourself enough to speak. It's not like the first time he called you ‘doll’, in fact, he had been calling you that the moment you started fake dating. But it was something about the way he said it as if the word was made for you and nobody could say that word unless it wasn't voiced by him for you. He didn't notice the flush in your eyes and even if he did, he didn't mention it.

“That’s it. You’re done hanging out with my family,” you articulated, “You are officially infected.” 

“Don’t be like that, doll. Come on, breakfast’s ready.”

At the age of 18, when you were finally a college girl, you decided that breakfast was a myth created by Satan. When you lived with your parents, the breakfast consisted of extravagant food like pancakes, waffles and fruits. Once you moved away for college, your breakfast shifted to coffee and maybe a toast if you had the time before your first lecture. And the second you were independent, coffee became your boyfriend, keeping you up at night and also, your best friend, keeping you up in the morning without dozing off in classes.

So, sitting again at a dining table with your family and fake boyfriend/boss was very awkward, to say the least. But of course, your sister had the magical ability where she took an awkward silence and converted it into an uncomfortable conversation.

“We hope we didn't wake you up last night. Nick and I tend to get loud sometimes,” Carol joked and you coughed, choking on your food, and James laughed awkwardly. 

James' hand instinctively came to your back, running calming circles with his palm and you shot a deathly glare to your sister. 

“Oh, we know all about that,” James teased, bringing your chair closer to him. Your eyes widened and you whipped your head towards him so quickly that your neck hurt. What was he saying? This man, your boyfriend, fake boyfriend was a completely different person than your boss (not that you were complaining). He was funny, charming, he made you feel comfortable and something else you weren’t ready to point out just yet.

You could see yourself falling for a man like James. No, he is your boss and sort of criminal. Get your shit together, you told yourself.

After the very awkward breakfast, thanks to Carol. Your mother told you to show James around town and you would have said no but that meant you’d have to stay at home with your family, which was worse. So when James accepted your offer to go to your favorite burger place nearby, you were relieved.

“This burger is amazing, but nothing compared to Barry’s,” James stated. 

You nodded your head, chewing the remnant of food in your mouth properly before speaking, “Nothing compares to Sally and her food.”

You liked being with James, everything about him made you want this, the real thing with him, not the whole faux boyfriend play. You wanted him and you were sure that he didn’t. One look at him was sufficient for anyone to know how handsome he was, and how oblivious he was to the waitress ogling him. He didn’t spare her a glance, he was probably used to the attention that he stopped caring about it. Of course, if you weren't overthinking at the moment, you would have noticed that he didn't care about anyone else - well, except you. 

“The waitress was totally checking you out,” you informed James. You were very jealous, but you wouldn't stop your crush on your boss to stop him from living his life. He had already sacrificed a lot for you, you didn't want to cock-block him on top of that.

“No, she wasn’t,” he huffed, looking at you for any sign that this conversation displeased you the way it did him.

“I swear she was,” you said, “You should ask her out. She’s cute.”

 “No, I’m taken.”

“But you’re not taken, James. This isn’t real,” you retorted and it hurt you so much to say. Sometimes you wished you could be a selfish bitch but you couldn’t do that to James. He deserves someone who would cherish and love him, not give him a faux relationship. “You should ask her out.”

 “Do you want me to?” James asked, his voice was laced with desperation that you couldn't understand. Why would he care about your opinion?

Bucky hoped that you would say no, he needed a sign to know that you wanted him too. His tone was despondent because he was hoping that this could be more. He really wanted it to be. But when you said yes, everything came shattering down for him. You didn’t want him and God, he was so frustrated that he could cry. What sick game was the universe playing with him? He felt like a rat stuck in a cage with cheese right outside, in front of him. Even though he was so close to you, you were still out of his reach.

“You know what?,” he pondered, “Now that I think about it maybe I should ask her out?”

“Like right now?” you questioned, taken aback by his sudden and unexpected change in demeanor.

“Yeah!” he cheered enthusiastically, “No time like the present, right? You can get home by yourself?”

He didn’t wait for your answer, already walking back towards the restaurant, and you murmured a ‘yeah’ which he didn’t even notice because he was already jogging towards the burger place.

When you reached home alone, tears welled up in your eyes, and you ran up to the bathroom to avoid stumbling upon your family. Maybe you shouldn't have pushed him, maybe if you didn’t then he wouldn’t have pursued the waitress. He wouldn’t have gone if you didn’t shove him towards the cute waitress. Why were you such a good person?

Your thoughts were brought to a halt with frantic knocks on the door. Instantly, you wiped your eyes and opened up the door to be met with your sister’s kids. Izzy and Alex didn’t give you any time before getting a hold of your hand and rushing you outside to help them set up the trampoline.

Your family was already out there, and you hoped your face didn’t say, ’I've been crying in the bathroom.’ Your sister and her husband were seated on a blanket which was spread out on the grass, sipping wine, and your parents were admiring their grandchildren.

“Auntie Y/N!” Alex exclaimed and Izzy added, “Help us fix the trampoline please.”

You agreed because those two were the only people in the world that considered you their friend without asking for anything in return. Moreover, it was a good distraction, if you stayed in a room thinking about James, then you would probably lose your sanity. So, once you started setting up the trampoline for the kids, it became somewhat fun, and you almost forgot all about James, and how he must be talking to that girl and how that girl must be flirting with him. You hoped he didn’t call her doll, you knew you were being unreasonable and immature, but you couldn’t help yourself.

Izzy and Alex made their way towards their parents and whispered something about you being so in love with James that his absence made you angry.

You ignored them and the way your sister smiled, you were so focused on fitting the trampoline spring that you did not realize someone was standing behind you until two strong hands came around you, taking the spring from your hand and attaching it to the corner. 

You knew it was James, no one would touch your hand so gently, any other man would have snatched the spring from your hold and mansplained it’s process to you. But James wasn’t doing that, he wanted to be near you, to have your attention fully that is why he took the spring from you. He didn’t undermine you. No, he desired you to notice him, the guy who has been trying all weekend to get you to like him. He wanted you to see Bucky, not your boss, James.

You could feel his head looming over your shoulder, you dared to crane your neck in his direction to find him already looking at you with a smile on his face. You were so dazed in his eyes that you didn’t notice that he was wearing a white shirt instead of the one he wore in the morning. You did not notice that he didn’t leave you to get the waitress’s number, instead he got a customized shirt that read 'I heart Y/N'. You only noticed him.

Furthermore, you didn’t care about anything else at the moment, just him. Bucky eyed your lips longer than he should have and leaned a bit towards you; a question. You answered his question by closing the distance between you and crashing your lips with his. His hands engulfed around your waist, flushing your back against his chest and he kissed you feverishly. 

The kids were right.

You were in love, and that love was reciprocated by the man who was holding you like you were his archer and kissing you like you were the source of his last breath. But both of you were too unaware to realize that the other felt the same way.

Everyone could see that, your mother looked over at your father and your sister looked at her husband, smiling, reminiscing the way they fell in love just like you and Bucky. The kids looked at you both with hope, aspiring to have a love like that in their future, the kind they saw in movies and in the couples around them.

What you didn't realize was that there was one other set of eyes watching you from a car in the distance. Rumlow finally found his rival's vulnerability, and he was going to do everything in his power to exploit and eventually kill Bucky’s weakness, his love, you. 

TAGS:  @bananapipedreams​ @akkinda10​ @rivers-rambles21​ @emmabarnes​ @valsworldofcreativity​ @boofy1998​ @marvel-3407​ @mybuck​ @priii​ @coffeebooksandfandom​ @ladydmalfoy​ @shaking-a-jar-of-bees 

[writtenonreceipts]

a prompt?

single parent trope for feysand, pretty please?

more prompts for this would be great, otherwise you get my rambling mind and we all know how that goes...

Find my main masterlist here

#

An Intimate Display of Insecurities and Hopelessness

The air-conditioning was out.  Again.  And Feyre had already stripped down to a tank-top and shorts.  The heat was miserable.  

“Sweet mercy,” she muttered as she stood in front of the large fan she’d bought yesterday to try and keep things cool.  It wasn’t working.

Feyre brushed her hair from her sweaty brow and bit back a curse.  This day was not going at all the way she’d wanted it to.  It had taken her far to long to get anything started, not to mention coordinating with Elain on how she wanted to participate in the shop.

It was only three days to her deadline to get her shop up and running.  Three days to get pallets made, canvases designed, and interior design finished.  All in one-hundred-degree weather and boob sweat.

She turned back to the mess of her shop.  This was going to take more work than she had time for.  Or sanity.

The front door opened behind her with a clatter.  Feyre wasn’t that concerned about it, knowing she was getting some things delivered.

“Just leave the deliveries on the floor,” she said, not looking back.  She was trying to have a vision of what she was going to accomplish, a vision that would be epic and glorious.

“Excuse me?” 

Feyre spun at the smooth voice and nearly stumbled.  The most attractive man she’d ever seen was standing in her shop.  His black pants were crisp and cleanly lined and his black shirt was rolled up to the elbows, displaying his tanned skin.  He was tall, lean, and with his black hair swept neatly back.

Feyre felt sweat roll between her breasts.  Oh hell.

“Feyre Archeron?” He asked and took a step forward while holding out his hand. “Rhysand Avitas.  I’m the new building manager.”

A dozen curses ran through her head as she did her best to wipe her sweaty hand on her shorts inconspicuously.  Because of course she knew who Rhysand Avitas was.  Everyone in their small town did.  He was the son of the police chief and now the youngest elected mayor in Valeris history.

He had also been just a year ahead of Feyre in school.  So she knew the kind of person her was.  At least, she thought she did.

“Rhysand, of course,” she said as she took his hand. The heat didn’t seem to effecting him.  Jackass. “Sorry, I guess I lost track of time.”

Indeed, it was half-past two right when she’d told his assistant that he could come by the shop.  And see that everything was in order for her opening deadline.  Except she hadn’t really expected him to show up.  

“Not a problem.” He smiled in such a charming way that Feyre found herself wanting to hate him.

But Feyre already did hate him.  He had bought the building just two days after her father’s death.  Just two days after the building was up for sale.  She hadn’t even had the time to get funds together to convince the bank that she could buy the lease herself.  Now, she was going to have to open her shop under him.

In school he had been captain of the football team, president of the ASB club.  He had been the kind of person Feyre had never wanted to interact with.  High and mighty, proud and cruel.  He’d worn a mask of indifference to anyone beneath him, she was convinced.

Feyre cleared her throat. “Things are a little messy right now, but it’ll be ready for opening day on Monday.”

Rhysand nodded as he walked around the shop.  Bits of wood crunched under his too fancy shoes and dust clung to his pants when he brushed up against one of the pallets that Feyre was still trying to decide how to convert into a display case.

“You’re a painter, correct?” he asked.  He looked over his shoulder at her and Feyre was taken aback by his eyes.  Bright blue—so bright that she could have sworn they were violet.  And damn her if she didn’t want to at least try and draw them.

“Yes,” she replied. “My sister does some gardening and does floral arrangements and I’m planning on having her sell some of her work here as well.”

“I remember,” he said, “Mrs. Ellis always made sure all of her classes knew about her protegee.”

Feyre rolled her eyes.  The high school art teacher had been someone no one really liked.  Aside from her.  Maybe it was just because Feyre had wanted someone to pay attention to her, but the woman had always been nice to Feyre.

“My work wasn’t that good back then,” she said.  And it was true, it had taken years of study and experimentation to get to where she was now.  Ten years after those miserable high school years and here she was, finally maybe a little bit confident with what she could do.

Rhysand said nothing, only observed.  “And you’re sure you’ll be ready by Monday?  No offense Miss Archeron, but it seems like a lot needs to be taken care of.  You assured the bank, and my assistant, that your shop was worth allowing in the complex.”

Feyre’s mouth pursed as she watched his man before her.  With his impeccable clothing, that silver watch on his wrist, it was hard to imagine that he’d had any hardships in his life.

“Yes, and I keep my word,” she said, her voice cold enough to rival any a/c.  “What I would like to know is why the air conditioning still isn’t fixed.  It’s been this way for a week now.”

“It’s being looked into,” Rhysand said. 

His gaze turned sharp as he looked her over again.  Something passed over his face that Feyre didn’t care to try and understand.  She just wanted this man out of her shop so she could get back to work.

“Was there something in specific that you wanted to discuss?” she asked, “or were just interested in questioning my ability to run a shop?”

He smirked at her and shook his head. “You always did have that fire in you, didn’t you?”

Feyre was ready to tell him to get out when a soft cry caught her attention.  She held up a finger to silence him as she listened.  Maybe she’d imagined it.  Hell, she hoped he’d imagined it.  Unfortunately the cry came again.

“Just a minute,” she said.

She hurried to the back of the shop where a door led into what would be used for the breakroom.  It was a few degrees cooler back there, which was why she’d set it up for it’s current use.

Sitting up in the pack-and-play was her daughter.  Seren with her golden hair and large blue eyes looked up at her and cried again.

“Momma!” 

Immediately, Feyre scooped her daughter up.  Seren latched on with a snake-like grip.  Her arms wound around Feyre’s neck tightly.

“Hi baby,” Feyre murmured.  “Why are you awake?”

It had only been a half hour since Feyre’d put her down, she’d been hoping for at least one hour of uninterrupted work.

Seren said nothing and only whimpered into Feyre’s neck.  As Feyre whispered to her daughter to sooth her, she went back out into the main part of the store to find the diaper bag she’d packed that morning.  In one of the insulated pockets, she found a bottle of apple juice.

“Here, honey,” Feyre said.  Seren snatched the bottle and began drinking, tears still rolling down her cheeks. “Okay, there we go.  Momma need to talk to Mr. Avitas okay, can you let me do that?”

Seren nodded and the almost two-year-old tucked herself right against Feyre’s neck.

Pressing a kiss to her daughter’s forehead, Feyre turned back to Rhysand who stood right where she’d left him.  The hard look in his eyes was gone and whatever hard-ass talk he was no doubt going to deliver evaporated.

“It seems I was wrong,” Rhysand said, “you do have some help, don’t you?”

Seren wiggled in Feyre’s arms to get a better look at the man, her bottle sticking in one cheek.

“Momma,” Seren said, her voice just slightly muffled.

“Yes, you are my big helper,” Feyre agreed, “even when you get into my paints.”

Seren beamed up at her. “I help.”

Feyre snorted a bit of laughter.  Help.  Sure.  There were some painted handprints on the wall that aid otherwise.

“Did you have any other concerns you needed to address, Mr. Avitas?” Feyre asked.

He seemed so taken aback that Feyre had had her daughter in the back room napping that it took him a moment to speak again.  It would have been amusing if the man hadn’t been so annoying to begin with.

“She looks just like you,” Rhysand said.

That was the last thing Feyre’d expected.  She quirked a brow at the man.  She knew it was true.  Seren, thank the heavens, looked like an Archeron.  There was barely a trace of her father.  Something Feyre would give thanks for every day.

Feyre heart gave a painful squeeze.  Of course that was what he meant.

She met his gaze, holding it for a long moment.  Her hold on Seren tightened automatically, something she always did when she remembered her baby’s father. 

“Yes, she does,” she whispered.  Feyre wondered what Rhysand could possibly know.  When she’d moved back to Valeris two years ago, just after she’d found out she was pregnant, she scrubbed her life clean of that man.  Rhysand couldn’t possibly know who the father was.  Even if he did, he shouldn’t care.

“Right,” he muttered and ran a hand through his hair. Once again, an un definable look flashed over his features, and disappeared just as quickly.  “I’ll see what I can do about the air-conditioning.”

“Good,” Feyre said, “I’d hate to have to delay opening.”

And much to her surprise, Rhysand laughed.  “Of course not.  That would be rather inconvenient, wouldn’t it?”

He turned back to the door and looked as though he would leave without saying anything else, until he paused. He seemed to be having an internal dilemma when he looked back to Feyre.

“If there is anything I can help with, let me know.”

The words were halting and careful.  Feyre wasn’t sure how to read them, how to respond.  So she only nodded.

#

i wanted to add more to this for the first part, but well here we are...

tags

@aelinchocolatelover // @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx // @bamchickawowow // @ireallyshouldsleeprn // @courtofjurdan // @sassys-world // @sleeping-and-books // @superspiritfestival // @chieflemming // @julemmaes // @lysandra-ghost-leopard // @firestarsandseneschals // @emikadreams // @rapunzel1523 // @booksofthemoon // @highladysith // @fangirlprincess09 // @rowaelinismyotp // @vanzetanze // @jlinez // @cassianscool // @stardelia // @my-fan-side // @sjmships // @tillyrubes10 // @acourtofsjmtrash // @hellasblessed // @rhysandswhore  //  @story-scribbler  // @post-it-notes33 // @live-the-fangirl-life // @strangevil321 // @whythefuckdoiexist // @pastasiren // @beanco8 // @lemonade-coolattas @foreverfallingforthestars // @surielandiareendgame // @feysand-loml

[paperficwriter]

The Coffee Shop at the End of the (Alternate) Universe (Day 5 of Batarou Week)

So this was originally the piece I wrote for the Batarou Zine I put together some time back, and it seemed relevant! Also you did not miss Day 4, I’m still working on it, but I still wanted to post something up. Enjoy!

The little cafe and coffee shop - Metal Bat Brewed Beverages - had belonged to Badd’s parents, before the accident. When they died, Badd was only sixteen, and he begged his uncle to keep the place open, just two more years until he could transfer ownership to himself. The man had refused at first, but...nobody could say ‘no’ to Zenko.

Even at twenty now, the early mornings still made him yawn as he took out the leftover pastries through the back door. There weren’t many; just the store-bought extras that they had for back-up so they wouldn’t run out.

He didn’t see the guy with the white hair crouching in the alley until he opened up the dumpster, about to toss everything in. “Whoa! Ya scared me, man.”

“Do I look scary to you?” Badd couldn’t tell if it was a smirk or a sneer on his face. What he did know, though, was that he licked his lips when he saw the box of pastries. “Are you just going to throw that out?”

Badd’s gaze shifted from his hands to the man, then back again. He didn’t look great, that was for sure. Thin. A bit dirty. There were tears on his black slipper shoes, and he wasn’t wearing a coat. “Yeah,” he said, after a second. “They’re stale. Why?”

“Because we could just skip the middleman.” He reached out a long arm, dirty fingers beckoning to Badd. “C’mon. Hand ‘em over.”

“Would a ‘please’ kill ya?” Immediately, Badd felt guilty saying it. Just an old habit. One of the few things Badd didn’t like was people being rude to service workers. He deserved it when the guy snapped his hand forward, almost grabbing the box. “Hey! Careful! Look...don’t eat the garbage. Come on in. I’ll make ya a coffee and we can get ya one of the fresh pastries my sis made. That’s what really sells.”

He glared, shoulders going up a bit like a threatened animal. Slowly, he climbed to his feet. Rising...rising...holy shit, he was tall. Even if Badd got on his tiptoes he would barely be eye-to-nose.  

“I’m Badd,” he said. “This is my shop.”

“Garou.”

Is that really your name? Badd wanted to ask but didn’t. “Cool. Garou. So, you want to come in?” His eyes - a light brown? Not gold, nobody had gold eyes, did they? - were still on the box of day-old baked goods. Badd sighed. “If I promise to leave these by the door when ya leave, will ya come in?”

After a moment of contemplation, Garou followed him into the shop.

—

“So, uh. Baseball, huh?”

After the morning rush, things died down, since it was a weekday. Zenko was at school, and although people were still hanging out, sipping their lattes and reading or working on laptops, Badd felt like he could sit down across from Garou and chat a little bit.

“Yeah.” Badd smiled a little wistfully as he glanced around the cafe at all the decorations, photos of players, wooden bats that had been converted into table legs. “My mom played. And my dad always wanted his own coffeeshop. So...this was the best of both worlds, yeah?”

“Heh. Thought that would have been the other way around.”

“Lotta people say that. But nah, she loved playing. Even after she had me and Zenko, we’d go out together…” This was the most he had talked about his folks in a long time, he realized, and he finally asked, “So how about you? What’s your deal?”

“My deal?”

“Yeah, whattaya do? Day job, work, whatever…?”

Garou stared at him for a long moment, then finally shrugged. “I get by.”

“...uh-huh?” Another shrug. “Do ya got any place to go? Ya seemed like you’d been in that alley a while. Ya don’t live there, do ya—”

“No, I don’t live in the alley,” Garou snapped, baring his fangs. “Don’t judge me just because we don’t all have extra cash for hair product.”

Badd flushed angrily. Okay, this guy had some nerve. He had eaten several treats and some fresh mozzarella from the savory flatbreads and he lost count of how many times he went back to refill his cup. “Hey now—”

“Does this make you feel better?” What? “Just because someone comes up to your trash can, you think you know their whole story? Take them in, give them something to eat and hope maybe they won’t hang out and make your place look trashy?”

“Dude, I didn’t say anything like that.”

Garou pushed himself away from the table. “You didn’t have to. I’m going.”

Badd fell over his words, watching Garou retreat to the back door. He still didn’t know what to say to him as he took the pallet of stale food and left. 

—

Badd was still thinking about the strange man when he went to bed that night. He replayed their interactions over and over in his head, trying to figure out where he had gone wrong. And then, he was trying to decipher why he cared so much. It’s not like he would see him again.

Hm. Why did that bother him?

It felt like he had just gotten to sleep when the alarm on his phone started going off. But it wasn’t the one to wake him up for the shop chores. This was the security alarm. The screen was already on and showing the store below their apartment, and a lanky figure moving quickly toward the register.

He knew that figure. It was fresh in his mind.

“Piece of—” Badd jumped out of bed and grabbed the metal bat from under it. He was just in his boxers and a shirt, but given how quickly the guy was acting, breaking the register’s lock, opening the drawer, grabbing the money…

Badd kicked the door open and snarled, “Hey! What do ya think you’re doin,’ punk?”

He thought Garou would run. Instead, his eyes took on a glow of excitement as he pocketed the two large handfuls of cash - their income for the whole week so far - and lifted his fists. “Distributing wealth. From you to me.”

“The hell you are!” He came at him, bringing the bat over his head and then down towards Garou’s face. “Does this seem like the kinda place that makes an excess o’ cash?!”

Badd had thought Garou would try to dodge, but then suddenly Badd was reeling from a devastating impact striking his nose and chest. He gripped the bat harder, refusing to let go even as he tried to get his bearings. Punched. Twice. Maybe a broken nose? Hard to tell. It was bleeding, though, that was for sure.

Which only pissed him off more.

He took a step back, trying to focus on the white shock of Garou’s hair. He wasn’t running.

He was...smiling!

“Is that what you do?” Badd asked as he wiped the stream of blood under his nose. “Find a small place, case the joint and then steal from it?” He swung again, in the same path, but just as Garou moved in once more, Badd swung his leg around to kick his middle. He blocked it. What was this guy? Some karate nut? 

“It’s not my fault you made it so easy!” Garou threw the block outwards, sending Badd off-balance. When he started to throw another punch, Badd raised the bat, and he felt Garou’s knuckles connect with the metal. His smile fell, twisted into a wince. 

“I should’ve known better than to let ya in. Bein’ nice is a waste on ya!” He grabbed the front of Garou’s shirt and shoved him hard into the wall. This time, when he rose the bat, Garou grabbed it with both hands. They were staying, motionless together, and Badd glared into his face. “Gimme the money and I won’t call the cops.”

“You lost your chance to do that,” Garou replied through gritted teeth.

Why...hadn’t Badd called the cops? If he had done that when the alarm went off, he could have followed him, or stayed upstairs with Zenko, but he came down instead. Why? Why?

“Mister! Stop!”

Garou glared over his shoulder at the sound of the other voice. Badd looked too, seeing a short kid probably a little younger than Zenko, gripping the hem of his shirt. He had a bowl cut and a bald spot, and he seemed on the verge of tears. “You’re supposed to be watching out!” Garou grunted.

“But...but...grandpa will be mad if he finds out you’ve been fighting again! And...and...we’re not supposed to be out this late!”

“Big bro!!”

Oh great. Now he was really in for it. He would rather continue fighting Garou than deal with the fifteen-year-old who was standing at the door, wearing her pajama pants and a too-large shirt of her favorite idol heartthrob. 

“Badd!” she yelled. “What’s going on? Who are these people?!” Then, she seemed to recognize the bat in his hands, and her tone changed from concern to anger. “You promised Mom and Dad you wouldn’t fight anymore!”

“It ain’t like that! He’s stealin’ from— oof!”

Garou used the distraction to quickly let go of the bat. Badd fell forward...right into the fist that sank into his gut. The air in his lungs whooshed out painfully, leaving him doubled over and gasping. 

“C’mon, Tareo,” Garou was saying, as Badd tried to will his lungs to reinflate. “Let’s get out of here.”

—

Zenko wouldn’t help in the cafe for a few days after that, and Badd didn’t really blame her, either. It just kept coming back to him: he should have called the cops, why didn’t he call the cops, why did he get into that fight.

He hadn’t gotten into a fight for so many years, and yet…

He had broken his streak.

Why?

“Badd, are you there?” He blinked, having totally zoned out as one of the regulars appeared at the cash register. A middle-age woman who had been coming since his parents owned the place. “Can I get a cappuccino and a scone, kiddo?”

“Oh, um. Sure. Just a second.”

She smiled kindly, tightening the high ponytail she wore, tucking her long black hair out of her face. “You were thinking about him, weren’t you?”

Holy shit. Was this lady psychic? “Thinkin’ about who? What? Naw, I was jus’...”

When he came back with her scone on a plate, she picked a piece of it and chewed it. “I haven’t seen you sit down for longer than five minutes in years, Badd. Or smile. Or talk. Or—”

“No way. He was some guy, is all. And I don’t think he’ll be comin’ back, so it don’t matter anyhow.” He took the cash from her - perfect change, since she had been getting the same thing for so long and the prices were never adjusted - and put it into the still-recovering cash register.

“Sure about that?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty positive.”

“No way that will change?”

“I seriously doubt it.” Badd glanced up, and when he noticed her staring at the back door leading to the alley, he followed her gaze.

Garou was standing there, propping the exit open with his foot. He had one hand in his pocket, and there was really no way to describe his face other than sheepish. Tail between his legs. 

The polar opposite of the night before.

And since there wasn’t really anyone else in line, Badd couldn’t exactly ignore him.

He wandered back, pushing his chin out as much as he could. “Ya got some nerve showin’ up like ya own the place or somethin.’”

After a moment of fishing in his pocket, Garou pulled out a stack of money. He pushed it into Badd’s chest, holding it there until he took it. “That’s everything. With a little extra. Just ‘cause...I got a little extra, so…”

“Did your gramps make ya bring this back?” Badd asked. It actually felt like a decent bit more than what had been in the register before. And he didn’t want to ask how Garou got the other money. 

“You didn’t tell me you had a sister.” Badd blinked. What difference did that make? “I live with the old man, but...it ain’t just me. There’s a bunch of kids. Tareo, some others, all little. And...they rely on me. So I’m not going to do that to another kid.”

Badd thought back to the pallet of stale muffins and treats. The way Garou still took them with him. 

He thought for a second, staring at Garou. Why wasn’t he leaving? Not that Badd had really told him to, but… “How’s your hand?” he asked, noticing the wrap on it. 

“Fine,” Garou asked, pushing it in more, out of sight. He nodded at his nose. “How’s your face?”

“Eh. My sister’s sore about us fightin’ so right now she says it’s a pretty vast improvement.” Garou chuckled at that. Badd licked his lips before he started speaking again. “Listen… ya brought the money back so that’s even steven but...I think I might’ve said some shitty stuff to ya that day, and I’m sorry, okay?”

Garou stared at him quietly. Finally, he shrugged. He seemed to do that whenever this came up. “Used to it.”

“Yeah, but…” Come on, please, for the love of God, don’t let this start another brawl. “If you’re takin’ care of these kids, do ya want an actual job? Like here? I’d feel better lettin’ Zenko go out and actually be a normal teenager without feelin’ like she’s gotta be here, and if the kids need a place to study or somethin,’ they’re welcome too, so...whattaya think?”

Badd was scared to look him in the face. In fact, he just stared down at his hands, like maybe he was counting the money even though he wasn’t. 

“Really?” Garou finally asked.

He snapped back to attention. “Yeah! If ya want. I haven’t really had anyone around in a long time, and it’s easy work, and it’s yours. I’ll give ya cash so it’s off the books and maybe we can hang out and...whatever.”

Garou smirked, that little spark of something returning to his eyes. Like it had that night. “Whatever? You want to fight me again?”

“What?! No! I mean...it’s whatever, okay! Whatever’s whatever!” A flush started to warm his cheeks to the point that he had to turn away so he wouldn’t see. “Come on, dummy. I’ll show ya how to make some stuff.”

Garou followed him inside, letting the door close behind them.