#and then it chilled in my shelf for a long time until my mother told me to get rid of old stuff so i threw all the magazines out :')

[chewytongue]

you know that I know all about him, and am a huge fan, but I think it might be fun to share some facts about Lil Gus with the people

king of my heart.

the party picked up Lil' Gus at a travelling cursed item shop, he attuned to Riri so they could communicate telepathically, I think he was priced under 100gp but Riri tossed a couple coins at the shop keep and that seemed to be good enough for him. Riri thought she had just bought her run of the mill haunted ventriloquist dummy, little did the party know he was #bornthisway

his mother is a normal halfling lady named Vezana and she cheated on her husband with a chaos demon (who at the time she only believed to be another halfling). Gus was born and the midwife assumed it... he? he was dead, but Vezana insisted she could hear him crying. She was the only one that could hear him, and she had to come clean about her fling to her husband.

Gus grew like a normal boy, his face, torso and arms are made of porcelain and he is very fragile, his legs and arms are stuffed fabric, stuffed with what? meat ofc, his organs kinda just swim around in the meat of his body, he does not have bones, it's very hard to walk for long stretches of time by himself, he uses a cane and has chronic pain, he has a 19 charisma score and is a total charmer, he sounds like John Waters and like Richard Cheese when he sings.

he was 9 when killed his step-dad by tripping him on the stairs, he was planning on leaving Vezana and was never kind to Gus, this would not stand. Gus is a mommy's boy and would continue to scare the shit out of Vezana's future boyfriends.

He was home schooled until he convinced his mom to let him go to school, she was always worried about him since he's so fragile but decided that some socialization would do him some good. he met his best friend, Eros, in school. he was the first person Gus consciously attuned to and they became inseparable, they are friends to this day. Gus was a scamp in his youth and would regularly make Eros steal things for him.

he and Eros left two together after finishing school and after some time on the road committing petty crimes they started an underground fight ring in the basement of a half-orc's (Abel) bait shop. they'd have death matches and Gus was in charge of the bell, which gave him a great seat to witness the brutality in the ring, the kind of shit he's really into, this guy loves violence.

they made a lot of money, and Abel was convinced by Gus to buy a real nice mansion. while Eros was out of town Gus pushed Abel down the grand staircase, killing him, and was subsequently sold off to the shop keep in the estate auction. he spent nearly 4 years sitting on a shelf, sometimes a guy just has to chill out and observe people, he didn't expose himself as a guy to the shop keep until a year in.

years later, now travelling with the party, he pointed out Abel's grown daughter, Evelyn, at a wedding to Riri, he told her the situation and that there could be a lot of money waiting for them if they got a hold of Abel's final will. Riri proceeded to threaten to sue her if she didn't give Gus what he was owed. they now own the mansion and his mommy lives there along with Evelyn, her partner and her son and whoever the fuck just shows up these days.

he spoke as a character witness during Riri's trial, maybe not exactly a character witness, more so evidence that maybe Riri doesn't keep the best company if she's carrying around a chaotic evil doll that she has a telekinetic link to. She went to prison for a bit and Gus was very happy to see her when she returned, she'd written a song about him that had been playing on the radio while she was in prison, swoon~

during the time when they were getting the will sorted out he confessed to not just being a ventriloquist dummy but a whole guy that was born like this. He also asked Riri out on a date and it took her 5 days to get back to him about it but she said yes and he took her out on a date that he'd done some vigorous research and note taking on, they went to a tavern and he asked her some basic first date questions and then they went star gazing, he also offered to be her warlock patron. Healthy!

like.. a week after they started dating they were in the Void visiting Riri's family and participating in the new year holiday a Night to Forget, during which they got married, blew up the pope that married them, and went to the Limbo and Lust circles of hell as a honeymoon. at the end of the night the party was kidnapped by poachers and put into a hunting arena, Gus was not taken as part of the ground and was picked up by Riri's grandpa, they hung out and Gus convinced him not to permanently kill Riri, they had someone write an agreement for them so they wouldn't forget it, signed, and then went to hell for some grandfather and grandson-in-law bonding time in the violence, fraud and treachery circles. Gus met Satan during this visit. (when asked why he only made the agreement for Riri he said "you're not my wife") the following day he got to hang out in the arena lounge and have a martini while his wife got hunted by her grandpa. when he saw Riri he said "i know our relationship has been moving very fast and understand if you don't want to stay married but i'm also happy to call you my wife and you're a bad bitch" and Riri said "it's fine". peak romance. this is also the first relationship either of them have been in. but they doubled down and got married again back in the mortal plane.

he loves his wife, he loves death and violence, Riri loves to get into fights and cause chaos and she never asks too many questions and never is phased when he tells her about a murder he's committed, what a woman, what a man.

listen to Creep by Richard Cheese, it is his song

[fictionfunshop]

Whore Phase - One Shot (Spencer Reid)

Thanks @moderatelydelusional for the inspo - I hope I did your idea justice.

18+ - Filth and not for children's eyes.

MGG / Spencer Reid are killing my feels

........

*200 LIKES!!! You've all made me happy. Currently writing more filth for your eyes **

You weren’t expecting him to text.

He usually called you when he wanted to see you, purring down the line telling you all the filthy things he wanted to do to you, which always made your thighs clench. You decided to have a Friday night in; you already filled your belly with your favourite take-out, had a long hot bath with a new book you picked up earlier in the week. Now you were sitting here catching up on some trashy television you dare not tell anyone you watch, painting your toenails when your phone came alive, making you jump and smudging your baby toe in the process.

Can I come over? – Spencer

No hello, or how are you, which you knew meant he had a bad case and needed you to let off some frustration. You understood and didn’t mind him using you like this, your Friday night instantly looking up and thanking your earlier self for taking your time shaving. You immediately type back your reply.

Course. See you soon.– Y/N

You jumped up from the sofa and go to your bedroom to see what nice underwear you had clean, instantly slipping on a lavender chemise set you picked up a few weeks ago, immediately thinking of him. You were fully aware of the agreement you both had – he told you he didn’t want a girlfriend because of his job, and you were working through a bad breakup and wanted some no-strings fun, so when he was free, he would come over to yours, never his and you would both “chill out” AKA screw each other’s brains out.

You knew the absolute basics about each other. You knew he worked for the FBI, which you thought was an elaborate chat up line until one night he came to you straight from a case, his badge in his pocket, gun on his hip and stacks of paperwork pouring out of his bag. You knew he was an only child and that his mother lived in Vegas, his dad not to be seen. He enjoyed reading, teasing some of the titles on your shelf, and he was bisexual, something which didn’t surprise you in the slightest when he admitted he had been with men before you. Even though he knew next to nothing about you, he never made you feel like a whore, he never slipped out in the middle of the night, and if he was free the following day, breakfast was always his treat at the café around the corner or the near-by diner.

You wandered back into the sitting room, pulling a bottle of wine from the fridge and pouring yourself a glass. You sat back down on your couch, your mind now on high alert that he was coming to see you, thinking of all the ways tonight is going to go down.

He has fucked you senseless in every corner of this place.

From your location on the couch where you straddled him one lazy Sunday morning he was off work, the tiny kitchen table now being held together by prayers after you both came back here drunk from separate nights out, or the shower where two weeks previous he teased you until you were delirious before pinning you against the tiled wall. You didn’t have time to register anything else when your obnoxious buzzer rang throughout the apartment. You buzzed him up and left the front door open. You go to fix him a glass of wine and change the channel to a random news station. You’re still in the kitchen when you hear him drop his bags near the door and take his shoes off before you go to meet him in the sitting room.

He looks sexy but exhausted. The circles under his eyes evident, and you wonder why he came here instead of straight to his place. His hair is sticking in all directions in desperate need of a trim, and his shirt is creased from sitting on the plane. He’s attempting to take off his tie as he wanders over to you, interrupting the process by giving you a quick peck on the lips.

“Here, let me,” you hand him the glass of wine before you slide it from around his neck quickly; you fold it neatly and hand it back to him. He gives you a small smile before stuffing it into his pocket and downing the rest of the glass of wine. He places the glass down on the coffee table before gathering you into his arms and a tight hug.

“You look beautiful as always,” he mumbled in your ear. “This for me?” his fingers rub the strap of the fabric.

“Yeah, I got it a few weeks ago. You like?” he nods his head, his eyes trailing all over your body, his hands following their path. The flimsy material did little to hide anything from him.

“I love your body, “ his hands grip your hips, pushing them into his, feeling him get hard through his slacks, “knowing you were waiting for me, in this…” he gripped the back of your head before clashing your lips together.

His hands wandered around you, cupping your ass, making their way up the back of the thin vest, his fingers running down your spine as you get to work, unbuttoning his shirt, as soon as you could get your hands to feel the flesh underneath you did, your nails digging into his shoulders. He broke the kiss and took your hand in his, and lead you to your bedroom. He sat down on the edge of the bed, and by instinct, you knelt between his thighs, your lips meeting again. This time your hand was rubbing the bulge; his were tangled in your hair. You wasted no time in undoing his trousers and releasing him from his boxers. He sucked in his breath when he felt your lips on his hips and nipping at his thighs as you gripped him, squeezing his base with every fluid motion. His finger tangles back into your hair when he feels your tongue lick the head of his cock, your lips wrap around him, sliding him down your throat with ease. Although he was bigger than other guys you have been with, you had enough practice with him. You look up at him; he was staring back at you.

“Fuck, you’re good at this,” he encourages you, as he grips your hair tighter and you open your mouth wider, signalling him that he’s in control.

Looking at him above you, his hair even messier than before and his lip tucked behind his teeth, you could feel how wet you were getting. You were sure he could see how hard your nipples were through the flimsy material covering you. You couldn’t control yourself; the hand not working on him goes between your legs and dips into your centre to find yourself right before you circled your clit, moaning as you continued to suck him off.

He lifted your head off his cock, spit dripping down your chin.

“Are you touching yourself? Does sucking my cock get you off? “ You nod your head.

“ I want you to show me how you do it..”

This was a new idea from him.

You stand up and take off your chemise and underwear before you crawl onto the bed. As you settle down on the pillow, he stands up too and undresses before settling between your thighs on his knees. You pinch your nipples hard and let out a moan as you feel his fingers lightly trace the outside of your thighs. You move your hand down between your legs before you settle your fingers back into your centre, curling them to reach the spot he does with ease. You crane your head back and let out a sigh as you settle back into a rhythm, occasionally pulling out to circle the bundle of nerves that makes your leg twitch and your hips match your hands. You feel him pin you down to the mattress.

“Look at me, Y/N, “ Your eyes snap open as they meet his, now completely black, the hand not on your hip, slowly stroking himself. “This is better than I imagined. Is this what you do when no one is around to fuck you?”

You nod your head as you let his name sigh from your lips. You can feel how close you are; you’re now dripping between your thighs, a thin sheen of sweat now covering your body, and he knows it too. He bends his head down, his hair lightly tickling your chest, and his mouth finds your hard nipple, his teeth sinking into it lightly before he circles his tongue around it. That’s all you need from him to let go, his mouth moving to yours to capture your screams, and you rode out your orgasm. You open your eyes to see him staring at you, still hard. He lifts the hand between your thighs and licks your two fingers clean as he stares at you. His actions turned you on further as you felt yourself throb.

Nothing else needed to be said between you. He climbs on top of you and settles himself between your thighs. He nips at your neck before he slips in; you can feel yourself grip around his cock, still not used to his size. He pauses for a moment before he slams back into you, hissing in your ear. By instinct, you wrap your legs around his waist, letting him go deeper, hitting your cervix as he bottoms out; It should hurt but it feels like heaven. He settles into a quick rhythm, fucking whatever problems he had out on you, but you don’t care. The feeling is building up in the pit of your stomach quickly as moans slip from your mouth.

“You feel so fucking good,” he rasps, a smirk on his lips.

He knows that you’re in the same delirious state as him. His hair is matted around the base of his neck; you can feel it around your fingers, which have tangled themselves there.

“Come for me, Spence, I’m close…so close…” you beg him.

“Me too, won’t last long…”

One of his hands moves from above your head to the headboard to keep up the rhythm as one of your hand moves between your legs, and you rub your clit, he stares down at the show before kissing you again. You bite his lip and tighten even further around him as your orgasm washes over you, chanting his name as he continues to ram into you. A few more sloppy strokes, and he joins you, swear words fall from his mouth, and his eyes squeeze closed. He pecks your lips again before he collapses next to you. You both lay there for a few moments trying to catch your breath before you get up to clean yourself off in the bathroom. Staring in the mirror, you can see some red marks on your neck from him already appearing. You pop back into your kitchen to grab some water before you head back into your room. He’s put his boxers back on and is sitting up against the headboard.

“Here, I figured you’d want one” you hand over a bottle as he gives you a soft smile.

“Thanks for letting me come over.”

“Well, it wasn’t a hard decision, a hot FBI agent who wants to have sex with me…” he rolls his eyes at your playfulness as he takes a swig.

“Well, this FBI agent is tired now after no sleep for nearly 30 hours, so how about we finish this off in the morning and some pancakes?”

What girl can say no to that?

[izukus-sugar-baby]

Checked out!

WARNINGS: fluff-ish, eventually will be smut, mentions of getting sick twice

word count: 2k

Heres my first writing for tumblr! Hope you all like it!

Part Two, Part Three.

"Hey Miss!!" You peered down at the smaller voice, simultaneously feeling a book slip from your hand and onto the ground. The bookshelf was at least 5 rows high, and you had been standing as far as you needed to reach the top. You were dusting off and replacing the books on the shelf, which... hadn’t been so pleasant with children running around before their daily read. Regardless, you had a job to do. It wasn't gonna stop for a ton of kids. You had been rearranging the books in alphabetical order before the kid startled you. Thank god it didn’t fall on their head.

"Are you gonna read to us today? Or is Miss Maggie?" The kid didn't look over six years old, blue eyes and long brown hair with freckles littering her face in a wonderful way. She wore a small dress full of sunflowers with bright pink shoes on her feet. She had been here before... Although, her name wasn’t ringing a bell.

"I wanted to read one of those pigeon stories you read us last time!" You let out a sigh of relief that the book didn't smack the kid on top of her head prior to climbing down to the ground and leaning down be eye-level with her.

"Pigeon stories?" You've read dozens of books about dozens of creatures and characters. What on earth would relate to a.. pigeon? Leaning down a bit farther to snatch up the book you had dropped, she pushed another book into your arms. The title read The Pigeon Needs A Bath!

"This book is pretty thin, You sure you want me to read just this one book, sweetheart?" You stood up straight, handing the girl the book back before cocking your hip to the side and placing your hand onto it.

"Me and Emmie can go find some more!" She hurried off to find her.. friend? Knowing it had been a child, it could be a stuffed animal! But she sure did leave too quickly to ask any questions about it. You sighed, climbing back up to finish your organizing. Thank goodness I’m already close to being done. You thought to yourself, dusting top to bottom and moving onto the 4th row. Their reading wasn't for another.. what? 20 minutes? You had time to knock out another shelf. Time flew by as you finished the 4th row. It was already time to read.

"I have to stop by Goodwill and get some more books. I also gotta stop at the post office and some.. other errands? You got this reading?" The owner of the store, Maggie, looked over to make sure she had gotten your attention before naming off a few things that needed done in the shop before you closed up shop.

"Yeah! What time will you be back?" You climbed down the last step of the ladder, patting off the dust from the bookcase that had gotten on your apron. It was some cutesy hello kitty apron you wore so the dust wouldn't ruin your clothing but it really just made it look like it was some mini cafe. None the less, you wore it.

"I'll be back in time for that uh, Pro hero guy. I don't know- my wife wrote him in. Ask and she'll tell you!" You weren't too involved with all that hero bullshit, the whole who can save more lives?! You get the most money AND an award. The system in itself was ass and it wouldn't make a difference in your everyday life for one of those snobby people to stop by. You walked around the shelves, watching Maggie leave as you sat down on a small rounded couch. A small chime rang through the shop as it called the children over for their reading, a few already sitting and ready to hear you.

It wasn't a big library, it seemed like a corner store had gotten torn down and then completely renovated into a library for children. The second floor had been where the owner and her wife stayed. It was a cozy little place where about 8-12 kiddos would visit for a read. There were bookshelves in the walls for more book space and 5 separate shelves more towards the middle of the place. They held less books than the ones on the wall. Only two of the five reached over 3ft. Parents would come in just to rent a few books. But more often than not, the owner would go out hunting for new books for everyone to enjoy. Along with cute little toys and those foam floor mats to sit on. All of the children in the shop had sat right in front of you, including the girl from earlier who held 4 books in her hands. A few other kids held thin picture books in their hands as well, but only having 15 minutes to read to them, it might be hard to get around to all of them.

“Alright, Who's first?" You asked, smiling down at them. Every single child raised their hand, some even raising both so your attention was on them. Of course this wasn't going to be easy. You thought to yourself as you put a hand over your eyes, pointing to some random kid. He held a small book, standing up slowly and handing it to you.

"My mom reads me this sometimes.." Poor boy was only about 5, and seemed pretty shy. You gave him a reassuring smile before he went back to his seat. You began to read and in no time at all you finished reading the few books children selected. Thank god it was a Friday, Most children would be picked up right after the reading for afternoon preschool etc. But it seemed like no one wanted to leave. Was it that hero Maggie had mentioned? You sighed, hopping up and heading to the check out desk where you saw a few children wanting to check out their books you previously read to them. You leaned down over the desk to reach for the book, scanning it and doing so for each person. The store bell jingled, as if the creak of the door didn't give away someone walking in.

"Welcome to 'Children's Magical Bookshop,' You paid the person no mind as you spoke, handing the last child their book and letting your gaze fall upon the... very tall man in front of you. Noise filled the small shop, children running up to him screaming-

"Deku!" As loud as their little lungs could. He gave a flashy smile, leaning down to hug the children that ran straight for his legs. He laughed and lifted a few of them in his.. very strong arms. Was it hot in the bookshop? Was the AC fucked up? You force your eyes from the tall man.. Was he looking at you too? Your mind screamed at you to introduce yourself, Quickly walking towards a shelf to do something. Anything bust stand there and gawk at him.

"Are you Maggie?" There were hopping children behind him, playing with his gloves and such as you turned to him.

"No- I'm y/n. Are you that.. pro? She had been talking about.?" You huffed through your nose, turning to him. He extended a hand, nodding with a cheesy grin on his face as soon as you had taken his hand into yours. It wasn’t like you never saw him on the news, but you sure did skip the channel as soon as it was some bullshit hero chart over who had been number one. He was so much hotter in person..

"Yes! I'm sorry I'm a bit early, I finished patrol sooner than I thought! I hope I'm not interrupting anything? The woman on the phone said before six, I told her I was sure I could make it around five!" His eyes traveled to your lips for a moment, listening to you speak back to him.

“You’re fine, There’s plenty of time for you to hang out and sign all of their t-shirts and such. Make yourself at home big man. You can sit in the reading area,” The kids dragged him to where you were just moments ago.. But he couldn't get you to leave his mind. You were beautiful. He needed to make you his.

The poor hero stayed until about six o’clock to talk to you, since all of the kids finally left to go do their summer homework or whatever they had to do. Deku had been leaning over the counter for almost an extra hour to make some conversation with you, he just couldn’t help himself. You cant blame him either! You had this smile that he couldn’t resist. And quite frankly, he wasn’t used to this feeling of butterflies in his stomach. He fought some shit villain every day! What's a few butterflies? Especially as pretty as you. Why wouldn't he want to stick around?

“I really didn’t think it would be so chill this week! It feels like I've done nothing but catch up on papers!” Izuku scratched his neck with his index finger, shaking his head lightly. “I guess I really am doing a good job!- Of course other pros are doing their jobs as well!” He let out a relieved chuckle, looking at you with a big, sincere, smile on his face. “How has work here been? It must be so nice working with so many children!”

You feel your eyes involuntarily roll, shaking your head and leaning against the wall behind you. “It’s nice until some kid gets sick on themselves and their mother isn’t here to help. We have extra clothing in the back because it’s happened more than once.” You groaned as your eyes trailed to the door leading to lost n found, clothes, and other things. You had an unamused look on your face talking about it. He noticed and let his eyes follow yours until feeling your eyes rest upon him once more. Maybe texting would let you come around to him a bit more? Were you bored?

“Yikes- I’ve seen adults get sick after villains show up. But I probably should head back to my agency.” He looked out of the store window before right back to those beautiful e/c eyes of yours. “Do you have a number I can text? I would love to talk to you more y/n..!” He was already prepared for rejection. It was kinda weird to be hitting on you after dealing with kids wasn’t it? Maybe he should take it back. Was he coming off as some sleazy ass hero?

Your eyes widened in the slightest- Enough for him to notice. “Sure, Let me see your phone,” You stepped closer to the counter, seeing him fumble on the pouch of his belt before unlocking and giving you his phone. You went to his contacts, making yourself one of them and handing it right back to him. He had an even bigger, cheesier, grin on his face after he took it back.

“Thank you, y/n!” He bowed his head before quickly leaving out to his agency. Finally, you could go home as well. Not that he was a problem, but that man sure could talk. It was endearing. Maybe I can put enough of those stutters in mind tonight. You joked to yourself, grabbing your keys and walking out to lock up the small bookshop. There was no doubt that you were attracted to him. Every woman in America and Japan was attracted to him in some way.

You let out a small sigh, driving home and turning your radio up until hearing your phone ding. You glanced over at the screen to see an unknown number texting. Assuming it was Deku, you waited until you were home to answer him. By the time you had texted him back, he was quick to reply. You two made plans to hang out soon and have dinner together. You talked for hours until one of you had fallen asleep. He was ecstatic. You really enjoyed his company.

taglist: @tenyaiidasslut @hi-rubi @devilsbooksworld @flamingpastapotatoes @arleneeene @blacklotussai @akam4recs @prinvilmain

a/n: I fucking hate tumblr KWJCHDH ive had to re-write this more than once because they changed the layout if the save and post. Its not my best work and was mostly edited on here instead of Google docs. Learn to edit the first version first i guess 💀 The second part will be much better!

Please Reblog!!!!

[1800-omi]

death’s bride.

characters: sukuna x f! reader

warnings/genre: angst, yn pov, abuse, some intrusive thoughts (?), choking, just sukuna being a toxic asshole

wc: 1.6k

prompt: “will you be mine?” He then pressed the blade deeper into my throat and asked, “will you be death’s bride?” and i stared back into his eyes and whispered, “yes.” (except i made some lil edits)

notes: bitches say theyre not sluts until sukuna comes up, i’m bitches

Being the eldest daughter, I always knew my responsibilities; Look after the younger kids, help mother with the chores, cook, et cetera. My family was never as privileged financially as other families in our town but we cared for each other, or at least that’s what I thought.

A couple of nights ago I overheard my parents talking about my father being in some sort of debt with someone really powerful, I don’t remember much from that night, what I do remember though is the fear in my father’s voice when he talked about this person. The next thing I knew, my mother was explaining to me how they’re going to have me get married to this man in order to pay my father’s debt. I am not sure how I felt about this at the time, I don’t think it matters anymore, I’m doing this for my family.

Right now, I’m alone in a carriage on the way to my husband’s home. I didn’t get to exchange a word with the coachman of the carriage and the windows are covered by curtains from the outside, I have no idea where this place is. This is definitely not how I had imagined my marriage would play out, but I guess it’s too late to lose all hope– maybe this man who I’m now going to call my husband is kind, generous, and honest. Maybe he will truly love me. My childhood dreams of finding real love are not shattered yet. I close my eyes thinking about my now-husband, slowly drifting away in a comfortable sleep.

I wake up to the coachman gently shaking my shoulder, his face is hidden under a mask. Once he sees I have awakened he quickly takes his hand off me as if he wasn’t supposed to be touching me in the first place.

“We have arrived.” He announces before getting off the carriage. “This will now be your new home.”

I slowly get out of the carriage and look at the huge mansion in front of me. This place radiates such a dark aura, and the mist of the early morning doesn’t give make it better.

I turn to the coachman, “Thank you.” He doesn’t reply, at first I’m not sure whether he heard me or not but I do not repeat myself. Instead, I walk towards the entrance where 2 maids seem to be waiting for me. For some reason, these maids are also wearing the same type of masks the coachman was wearing.

Upon walking inside my new home, I can’t help but look around at every detail of the place – from the marble floor to the murals on the ceiling. This place is gorgeous and so different from what I’m used to. Eventually, I’m lead to a huge bedroom to which the maids tell me is mine.

“Aren’t me and my husband going to be sleeping in the same room?” I ask only to receive what I assume to be a stare and no answer. After a few seconds of silence, they continue to tell me that my husband has invited me for dinner tonight and that the clothes I’m expected to wear are in the closet and they exit. I’m being invited to dinner in my own house, it’s weird to think about. Does this mean I won’t be having dinner with him every day? I have so many questions but no one willing to answer them. All I have left to do now is wait for dinner time to come into this room, which I was advised earlier not to exit.

I spend my day reading some of the books that were already on the shelves of my room and looking outside from the long and thin windows. I wonder what’s the reason for the shape of the windows, it’s almost as if they were made so that people could escape from them... No, that can’t be it. No one would feel the need to escape from here. The windows’ shape was probably a stylistic choice. Maybe my husband is a stylish person?

I look at the huge clock by the wall, I should start getting ready, it’s almost time. I open the closet and find a beautiful red dress in it, I take off my other clothes and carefully put it on. I don’t think I’ve ever worn clothes this soft, this dress must have been expensive. I never thought I would one day be looking at myself in the mirror and be wearing such luxurious clothes. I open the jewelry box on the shelf and pick out a necklace and put it on. Yes, this is it, he’ll love it. Now all that’s left to do is sit and wait.

Ultimately, one of the maids comes by to let me know they’ll be taking me to the dinner. My heart is beating quickly and I have a weird feeling in my stomach, I’m feeling a mix of stress and excitement. I’m finally going to meet the one I’ll spend the rest of my life with.

I get led into another very big room, this one has a big table in the middle of it along with many chairs. The maids tell me where to sit and instruct me on what I should do once their master enters the room.

While waiting, my stress can’t help but grow, I lightly tap my finger against the table until I hear the grand doors open. I immediately turn my gaze towards them to see a tall man in a light-colored kimono with a black edge. The kimono wasn’t the only thing standing out, this man also has some unique markings on his forehead, cheeks, and nose, I wonder if he has them around his body too. I quickly remember what the maids have told me and I bow to him. He doesn’t say a word and neither do I since I’ve been told not to speak unless spoken to. I hear his footsteps while I’m still bowing, is he approaching me? My heart speeds up as he puts his hand under my chin and lifts it, making me look at him. He looks down at me with his red eyes, meanwhile, I notice he’s got some markings on his wrists as well.

“Hm,” he finally speaks up, “you’re rather pretty, just like I’ve been told.” His voice is deep and husky, and quite scary if you ask me. “What is your name?” He asks.

“YN.”

“Hm, pretty name as well. Great, I won’t have to change it then.” Change it? If he didn’t like my name he would’ve just changed it?

His hand slowly went from holding my chin to being wrapped around my throat, making me gasp.

He then stared straight at my eyes, as he said, “will you be mine, YN?” He then tightened the grip around my throat and asked, “will you be death’s bride?” and I stared back into his devilish eyes and whispered, “yes.”

“Good.” He whispered back and smirked, holding my throat for a few more moments. Eventually, he lets go of my throat, in response to which I take deep breaths and continue to gasp for air. Is this what I’ll be going through every day? He ignores my struggling and takes a seat before starting to eat.

“Quit exaggerating, it wasn’t that bad.” He ordered and I eventually calmed down, before sitting back in my place. I look at the food in front of me and slowly start eating, choosing to ignore what just happened. Maybe there is some good in the man I still haven’t seen.

“Did anyone say you could start eating?” He asked, making me freeze. He lets out a sigh before continuing, “I’ll give you a pass since it’s your first time. But I don’t want to see you making the same mistakes anymore or there will be consequences.”

I look at him in the eyes, “What consequences, my lord?” It probably wasn’t a good idea to ask him that, it probably isn’t a good idea to talk to him at all.

He grins at me before letting out a laugh, “You’ll join the other wives.”

Chills are sent down my spine by his response. Other? There are others? Or at least there were. Just how many other women did this man abuse? Most importantly what happened to them? All I am left to do is wonder since I doubt anyone will be willing to tell me about them. How did I end up here?

“Oh, you can leave now.” He speaks up again. I look at him, confused. “I have nothing else to say to you, you can leave.” He explains. He won’t even let me finish my dinner, but a part of me is thankful I don’t have to spend another minute in his presence. I get up and take a bow again before leaving the dining room. I ignore the maids and swiftly walk to my room by myself. After closing the door behind me I lay on the bed as tears start rolling down my cheeks. I can’t believe this is my life now, if he was capable of doing that the first time I met him, what will he be doing to be in the future? I am never going to be enough for this man. If his other wives weren't enough, nor am I. This can’t be happening! What have I done to deserve this? Do I have to live the rest of my life scared of this man? This man I’m now supposed to call my husband? I sob lightly and try to wipe my tears. I close my eyes trying to fall asleep, part of me hoping I won’t wake up again. The sleep I fall into that night was so different from the one I had back in the carriage. In that one, I dreamt of meeting someone with whom I’ll be happy, someone who’ll truly love me, in this sleep I see nothing but nightmares.

thank you for reading! reblogs are appreciated <3

[mylifeisactuallyamess]

Armitage Hux x Female Reader

A/N: Set in my Echoes of the Heart universe I went back in time and wrote a little moment between Armitage and Reader before their arranged wedding. For Writer Wednesday @autumnleaves1991-blog @clydesducktape

Warnings: Mention of arranged marriage, nothing else I can see.

Word Count: 1503

The house seemed empty, you knew better though. Candles lit the dark wood hallways, casting a warmth that was not felt, flickering long shadows on the walls making the hallway have a life of its own. Your feet were bare, feeling the plush carpet beneath your toes as you padded to your favourite room on the Hux estate, your black nightgown fluttering with your movement. You took a candle off the wall and gently pushed open the large dark wood door, it creaked and you paused for a moment before slipping inside.

Rain pounded on the window, rivers of water flowing down the outside of the house as the never ending deluge fell from the perpetual grey clouds that filled the skies of Arkanis. The room was long, a dark wooden desk and two chairs stood to one side and you gently placed the candle down swapping it for one of the fuel cell powered lights. It filled the space with a barely perceptible hum but it gave you a sense of comfort. You trailed a hand over the back of one the chairs, the velvety grey/green texture soft against your fingertips. Lining the walls were rows of shelves all holding artifacts from one place or another. You even saw an old Imperial Trooper helmet on one but that’s not why you were here. Looking up you could see the foreboding wooden structure ran all the way to the ceiling and the top half was filled with books.

Books were rare in the Galaxy and for the Hux’s to have an entire library of them just screamed out their insurmountable wealth. You carefully made your way up the stairs, your heart thrumming with excitement as you approached the delicate objects, some were standing, their binders out so you could see the titles. Others were slumped in their little spaces, resting on one another as though they were tired of existing. Dust covered them, a thin layer but enough to see when it had been disturbed and you saw a void on one shelf. You trailed a finger across the gap, someone had been here and recently. You jumped when the door opened below, your first thought was to hide among the shelves but the light was on and it was pointless pretending you weren’t here.

“Hello?” Your breath hitched at his voice.

“Forgive the intrusion General.” You carried on perusing the shelves, coming into view so he could see you as you moved into the next aisle and disappearing from view again.

“No intrusion, it is I who should apologise for disturbing your solitude.” Always so formal, you thought with a little sigh. A shiver ran down your spine when you heard him start to come up the stairs to replace the book he had taken.

“Do you have a favourite General?”

“Book?” You peered round the end of the aisle to look at him, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. “Yes of course you meant book,” he muttered to himself. Your eyes dragged over him, he was still in his First Order uniform, he had bags under his beautiful green eyes and his hair was fluffy and soft as it dragged over his brow.

“Can you not sleep?” He cast a guilty look at you, his pale hands clutching the book tightly as though it was grounding him.

“No,” he confessed. “I am, I believe…nervous.” Your heart skipped a beat at his words, you had so much you wanted to say, how you hoped this marriage could blossom and become real but you didn’t think he was ready.

“I told you, I am not unwilling, I do believe it was the library that might have sealed the deal.” You joked and he let out a slight laugh, running a hand through his hair. You wanted to commit the sound to memory. He didn’t seem like a man who laughed freely very often.

“You enjoy books?” He asked lightly.

“I must confess we only had a couple in our house before…” my father sold them. “I did have one, it had such beautiful pictures depicting the planet Naboo.” Your eyes drifted as they lost focus, you remembered running your hands over the pages admiring the blues and greens, the glint of gold in the letters. Naboo was everything Arkanis was not. Armitage raised a hand and you focussed back on him.

“Wait a moment,” he mumbled and disappeared down an aisle, curiosity got the better of you and you followed him, both of you disappearing into the dimly lit rows of books. “Here,” the whisper of a book being removed from its resting place reached your ears and he turned to you with almost a hesitant expression on his face. “I believe this is the book you are referring to.” You took it, tracing your hands over the cover before turning and heading back into the light. You felt like you were in a dream as you glided down the stairs and took a seat in one of the plush chairs. You didn’t realise he’d followed you until he was peering over your shoulder. His body heat a comforting sensation on your back as he leaned over, his hand resting on the back of your chair, ever careful not to touch you.

You winced at the crack in the binding as you opened it, they hadn’t been handled for a while and so you must always open them with care. The pages were thick, just as you remembered and words were scrawled across the parchment. Long flowing runs of slanted words, the first letter of each page stood out, decorated with shimmering gold and you gently traced a finger over the colouring. You turned another page and sharply inhaled at the picture that was revealed to you. This picture showed waterfalls all blue and clouds of white, vibrant green grass and sunshine. You ached for such things, to feel the warmth of the sun on your skin, to be able to lay on the grass and hear birdsong instead of rain. To splash in the lakes, run your hands over the gem coloured pebbles only to dry off in the sun, a gentle breeze drifting over you. Many hours had been spent pouring over this book, it had got you through your mother’s death, transporting you to places undiscovered.

You didn’t realise you were crying until a tear slid down your cheek.

“Are you alright?” He asked softly, concern edging his tone.

“Yes,” you dabbed your eyes, careful not to mark the pages. “I am just being silly.”

“Do you have memories tied to this book?”

“I do,” you hiccuped softly. “When my mother was dying I spent hours pouring over the pages, imagining I was anywhere but here.” You slammed the book shut already worried you’d said too much. The marriage was tomorrow and if you spilled anymore of your damaged soul he might call the whole thing off. You stood abruptly making him back up a step in surprise, your fingers clutched the book almost loathed to part with it. “Thank you for showing me this,” you whispered, offering it back to him. His hands were hesitant and slightly shaky as he wrapped them over yours. His fingers were warm and smooth and he pushed the book gently back towards you.

“They never get looked at in here. Consider it….a wedding present.” You glanced at him, the light from the lamp casting harsh shadows over his chiselled features but all you got from him in that moment was kindness.

“Thank you,” you mumbled. You expected his hands to move away but he stayed where he was, the warmth of your hands bleeding together until you couldn’t tell them apart without looking down. Your heart fluttered, you wanted to kiss him, to express your gratitude and to show him some kindness in return. You’d heard the rumours of how ruthless General Hux was, his subordinates deferred to him without question, he’d killed people for less than disobeying a simple order. But right now you saw none of that, just a quiet man in his huge house offering a moment of solace to someone he barely knew. Your chests rose and fell in sync as you stared at each, you leaned forward to place a kiss on his cheek but his expression changed. You saw the horror flood his eyes, the panic fly across his face as he snatched his hands away, his movements jerky and he backed out of your reach.

“Goodnight My Lady. I shall see you tomorrow afternoon,” his tone abrupt and dismissive as though he was brushing you off.

“Goodnight General.” You replied softly, watching him almost flee the library. You sat down with a sigh, pulling your gown around you to ward off the sudden chill that filtered into the room. Hopefully he would open up once you were married, hopefully you could show him the love that he clearly deserves even if he never returns it.

[pregnant-piggy]

Mum’s getting married again

Blaise Zabini x reader

words: 10.1k 

warnings: light swearing, mentions of food and alcohol, crappy mother-son relationship, making out scene

written for @sleep-i-ness​ writing challenge

prompts: ‘This, right here, is where I’m meant to be.’ and ‘Kiss me, you idiot.’

A/N: I’m finally back! I worked hard on this in the past two weeks and I am quite proud of it, I hope you will like it too!

The chill of the fridge fell on your bare legs as you opened the door, searching for the juice that you swore you had bought last week. The upper half of your body was hidden behind the open door and the other half stuck out, revealing your pyjama shorts and bare legs with your feet in socks to anyone who’d walk into the kitchen. Humming a song to yourself you pushed aside the eggs and butter, having found the juice in the back of the fridge.

Someone behind you cleared their throat and you jumped up, almost hitting your head on the top shelf. With an angry frown on your face you turned around and met eyes with your roommate, Blaise. He had a smirk on his mouth at your annoyed face.

The tendency to make a rude comment left your mind as you noticed he had a pink letter in his hand. You raised your eyebrow and nodded to the letter, while you closed the fridge with your hip. ‘Got a letter from your lover?’

Blaise rolled his eyes and he took place at the breakfast table in front of you, waving the letter through the air. ‘It’s from my mum,’ he said plainly.

‘What’s she written ‘bout?’ you asked, taking a bite from your toast. ‘And why is it pink?’

Blaise sighed and he tossed the letter over to you. It landed right in front of your plate and you lowered your toast to look at it. While Blaise got up from his chair and walked to the kitchen counter, you took up the letter and read what it said.

‘She’s getting married?’ you asked surprised, after realising that it wasn’t a letter but a wedding invitation. ‘Again?��

Even with his back to you, it was clear to you what Blaise’s facial expression was. Though he didn’t hate his mother, the relationship with her was not what you would call good. In the past Blaise had tried to get closer to his mother, but after she had left all attempts cold he had given up. Now there was a letter every once in a while and she came over for his birthday once a year. That was, if she didn’t forget.

As Blaise’s best friend you had stood by his side and had watched how much effort Blaise had put in repairing the bond with his mother and how much pain it had caused him. You had seen him slowly grow numb over the issue until the point where he was now; completely indifferent. Or at least, that was what he wanted you to believe. Being Blaise’s friend had learned you to look further than he let out to anyone and you could see that the issue with his mother still made him angry and disappointed. But as long as he didn’t want to talk about it, you wouldn’t push on the subject.

‘Did you know she was dating anyone?’ you asked carefully, after you had read the entire invitation. ‘Has she ever mentioned—what’s his name?’

A denying grunt came from Blaise as he shrugged. He turned around and you saw the grimace on his face, no matter how hard he was trying to hide it. You offered him a reassuring smile and poured yourself a glass of juice, giving him some time to recollect himself.

After a minute he sat back down at the table and stole a slice of toast from your plate. You didn’t even bother to make a notion of it and gestured to the letter, silently asking him what he was going to do about it. Blaise stayed silent for a while and his brows scrunched together as he thought. With a faint smile you watched Blaise’s concentrated face, admiring how his eyes squeezed closer and his teeth sunk into his bottom lip.

Anyone would be a fool to deny Blaise was handsome. Although you weren’t a fool in that respect, you knew that the feelings you were harbouring for your best friend were nothing but foolish. At first you had thought it was just something that would disappear after a while; just a crush. Nevertheless, time passed and the crush did not go nor fade. In contrary, the feelings only grew more intense to the point where you cursed yourself every day when you woke up for not being able to control yourself. With every sign you thought you got from him, you had to remind yourself that Blaise was just your friend.

Yet, you couldn’t help but admire the man that was sitting in front of you in moments like these. There was no harm in that, you figured. The worst thing that could come from it was that Blaise noticed and his ego grew even bigger, if that was possible at all.

Blaise’s eyes glittered in the light from the lamp over the table and you shook your head and looked away. Instead you focused on the pink card that lay on its side on the table. The design of the card was simple; it was a pink background with golden letters announcing that the ‘happy couple’ would make their promises to each other in a mere two months from now.

‘It wouldn’t be the worst thing if you went,’ you said slowly, after Blaise had been quiet for a while. ‘I mean, maybe it is good to see your mother again. She wasn’t at your birthday either.’

Blaise ripped his gaze from the point he had been staring at and looked at you. A hot streak shot to your cheeks at his intense stare but you kept staring back at him, waiting for him to answer. You drowned in the darkness of his eyes and the sparkles that danced in them.

He was the first to break eye contact and looked down at the letter, his hands coming on the table to hold the card. His fingers played with the edges and he cleared his throat thrice before he finally spoke.

‘Would you come with me?’ he asked and pleadingly looked up to you.

Maybe this was the reason why you had fallen for Blaise; the softness that he seemed to wear around you. When he was around you he was more than the Blaise that he was with others. He was more caring, was not afraid to show his soft side and weaknesses. It may have costed you almost a decade to get there, but you wouldn’t want to trade this Blaise for any other person in the world.

‘Of course I will,’ you said and took his hand over the table. He shot you a thankful smile and nodded content.

‘You better look amazing because I don’t wanna get there with the mess I’m sitting with right now,’ Blaise said and his cocky smile came back to his lips.

You let out a loud laugh and shook your head. ‘When has that ever been a problem? I always look fabulous!’

‘Whatever makes you sleep at night, love,’ Blaise chuckled and he messed up your hair when he walked past you out of the kitchen. You turned around and watched him leave, arranging your hair and feeling the heat on the place his fingers had touched your scalp.

-=-=-=-=-

‘You’re going to the wedding with him? As his date?’

‘No! As his friend, you moron!’ you said, throwing a fry to Pansy, who was wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

Together with your two friends, Pansy and Daphne, you were sitting at a table in the far back of the bistro, surrounded by empty tables. When you had told them about what happened over the phone, Pansy and Daphne had immediately called an emergency meeting and ordered you to meet them.

Playing with the straw of your drink you looked at the two girls sitting opposite of you. Daphne was picking the tomatoes off her burger, placing them carefully at the side of her plate, while Pansy was rolling her eyes at you and she threw the fry back at your plate.

‘You know what this means, right?’ Pansy asked and shot you a sly smirk. ‘Going to a wedding with someone is a big step.’

‘God, Pansy, it’s just a wedding,’ you said, throwing your hands up in the air. ‘He wouldn’t go alone and I think he should see his mom again. What else was I supposed to do when he asked me? Say no? You don’t know how he was looking at me!’

‘Was it something like this?’ Pansy asked and she dropped her jaw and made the most googly eyes she could manage.

‘That is actually quite accurate,’ Daphne snickered.

You stared at Pansy and tilted your head to the side, knitting your eyebrows together. Taking your drink from the table, you leaned back in your chair and shrugged. ‘What are you doing? Why is that accurate?’

Pansy’s jaw dropped for real now as she noticed you weren’t kidding and Daphne shook her head. You stared at your two friends, waiting curiously for their answer.

‘Sweetie, it’s obvious he likes you,’ Pansy said and her soft voice told you she wasn’t kidding anymore. Your eyes widened and you looked between Pansy and Daphne. The first one was giving you a sweet smile and Daphne took your hand over the table and gave it a little squeeze.

‘No,’ you breathed and you cleared your throat, trying to find back your voice. ‘No, he doesn’t like me! If he did he would’ve told me, right?’

‘Like how you told him you like him?’ Daphne asked and Pansy chuckled softly.

‘Well, that’s different,’ you tried, even though you knew that it was actually the same. However, the more you thought about it, the less it made sense to you. Blaise couldn’t like you. If he did you would have noticed; you had known him for years, you would have seen it. But in the back of your mind there was a voice telling you that he hadn’t noticed you liked him too and he knew you as long as you knew him.

Pansy gave you a comforting smile, but that couldn’t help the balloon that was growing in your stomach. Your plate with food seemed cold and tasteless and the drink in your hand was bland. After what felt like an hour, you got your voice back and leaned forward in your chair.

‘No, it’s bullshit,’ you said determined, placing your drink back on the table with more force than you had intended. ‘Blaise doesn’t like me. He can’t.’

Daphne and Pansy snorted and they glanced at each other before Daphne said, ‘Remember when he asked you to live with him?’

In the living room of your parental house you were half-sitting, half-lying on the couch while you stared at the TV on the other side of the room. This was the summer that you had thought would be the best of your life, but so far you had done nothing on your list and almost every night you had spent on the very same couch you were on now, mindlessly watching soaps and films. The days were filled with trying to find a cool place in the shadow of trees in the garden of the house and eating strawberry icy lollies. On some days you would meet with your friends and do the exact same with them.

This day had been no exception to the rest. In the morning your parents had dragged you along to a flea market on the other side of the city and you had been forced to feign enthusiasm on forty year old sticky tables and paled garden gnomes. The afternoon you had spent on the phone with Daphne, who was with her parents in France.

And now it was after dinner and you had stationed yourself on the sofa, while your parents had a glass of wine in the garden. Time passed by slowly as you blankly gazed at the moving figures on the TV-screen, not even registering what they were talking about. Maybe someone died, maybe someone slept with their best friend’s boyfriend. Whatever it was, you didn’t know.

The characters completely lost your attention when there were footsteps in the hallway. You lifted from the couch and leaned forward a little to see who it was. Honestly you hoped it weren’t your parents wanting to spend time with you; you had had your fair share of that already today.

So a smile formed on your face when Blaise stepped into the room. Muting the sounds from the TV, you sat up straight, creating some space for Blaise to sit. His eyes glanced at the TV as he sat down.

‘Whatcha watching today?’ he asked, knowing you were bingeing any series you could find at the moment.

‘I don’t know,’ you shrugged. ‘I wanna say something with a hospital, but I am not sure.’

Blaise chuckled and then he cleared his throat. You raised your eyebrow at him, noticing that there was something different about his behaviour today. He seemed a little nervous and his gaze was pointed at his hands as he spoke to you.

‘I wanted to ask you something,’ he started and his voice got smaller with every word.

‘Blaise, if you want me to understand what you’re saying you have to speak up,’ you said and you bumped your shoulder against Blaise’s. He looked up and smiled faintly at you, causing you to fill with worry. ‘What’s the matter?’

‘I wanted to ask you if you wanted to live with me,’ Blaise said and while his face was turned to you, his eyes weren’t looking at you—they were staring at a place above your shoulder.

‘Live with you?’ you asked and a big smile formed on your lips. ‘I’d love to!’

Blaise’s face filled with hope and he grinned at you. ‘Really?’

‘Are you kidding?! Of course I want to!’ you exclaimed and threw your arms around your friend. ‘Oh, Blaise, this is amazing! Just when I thought you couldn’t be a better friend!’ You got up from the couch and danced around the living room with your arms in the air.

Blaise was watching you with a smile from the sofa and you felt a weird twitch in your stomach under the stare of your friend. You lowered your arms and smiled happily at him. Leaning down, you pressed a kiss on the top of his head and spun around when you pulled back.

‘I gotta tell my parents!’ you exclaimed and ran out the of the living room, leaving the giddy Blaise alone on the sofa.

‘So? What about it?’ you asked, slapping Pansy’s hand away as she reached for your fries. She shot you a hurt look and let out a whine, as Daphne shook her head and moved her chair a little closer.

‘You said yourself that he was nervous. He is never nervous around you!’ she said and moved her finger in the air to emphasise her point. You took her finger and pushed her hand down to the table.

‘And? I’d be nervous to ask him to live with me too,’ you said.

‘Yeah, because you’re in love with him too,’ Pansy mumbled, but you ignored her.

‘You gotta come with better arguments than this,’ you said, though you felt your inside slowly turning to believe your friends.

‘Alright, how about the time you got stood up by Neil?’ Daphne said, leaning back in her chair as if she had already convinced you.

The restaurant was filling with happy couples as you sat at the bar, nursing the drink in front of you. With every time the door opened you turned your head, hoping that your date, Neil, would walk into the place. He was already forty-five minutes late, but you figured that it must be traffic.

You hadn’t missed the looks full of pity from the guy behind the bar and the waiters that were walking around the place but you wouldn’t give up yet. Already on your third drink, you sighed and took your phone, checking it for the umpteenth time to see if maybe Neil had sent you a text.

There were no texts from your date, but there was one from Blaise, asking how your date was going. It was a thing you always did, checking up on each other while you were on a date. It had started after you had been on a terribly boring date with some guy and you had texted Blaise halfway through, pleading him to call you with an emergency so you could ditch the guy. At your next date, Blaise had jokingly messaged you and ever since then it had grown to be a habit. He did it when you were on dates and you did it when he was on dates.

You knew Blaise was on a date too and that you probably just should text him that it was going great, but you didn’t want to lie to your friend.

It’s shit, he hasn’t shown up yet and the waiters are giving me piteous looks.

For a second you hesitated with your finger above the ‘send’-button, but as you made eyes with the man behind the bar, you pushed aside all your ego and hit send. You saw the message being sent from your phone, arrive at his and after a minute it was read by Blaise. He was typing for a second and his message back came.

Wait a minute

A sigh slipped from your lips and you dropped your phone on the bar, taking your drink in your hand instead. For a few minutes you waited for a response back from Blaise back, but when none came you figured he had forgotten about it and was having fun on his own date.

When you placed your empty glass back on the bar, the barman came over and silently asked you if he should refill.

‘No, I think I’ll head home,’ you said, failing to hide the disappointment in your tone. You jumped from the barstool and took your phone. As you reached for your purse to pay for your drinks, the door of the restaurant opened again and against your better judgement you looked up.

The last person you expected to enter walked into the place. Dumbfounded you stood up straight and stared at the person.

‘You’re still here! I am so sorry, darling, my boss wouldn’t let me get out of the meeting. You know what an ass he is.’

Blaise wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close, so to everyone around it looked like you were kissing. Instead, his lips were hovering over yours and you gulped at the sudden proximity. The cold from his hands sent a shiver down your spine and all the air was knocked out of your chest.

‘Play along to save your dignity,’ Blaise whispered and his lips almost touched you.

Without saying anything—afraid that all you would let out was a whimper—you nodded and Blaise let you go. He got his wallet from his pocket and paid the barman, flashing him a smile. As he turned back he placed his arm around your waist and pulled you with him.

‘Let’s go home, love. We’ll get dinner another time.’

Something about Blaise’s words put you back to your feet. You conjured a smile on your face and you glanced around the place as Blaise helped you into your coat. The waiters that had been looking at you with pity, now had looks of jealousy at the handsome man by your side. You couldn’t help but feel like you had proven them wrong and a genuine and slightly malicious smile came to your mouth.

With Blaise on your arm you walked outside, like nothing had happened at all.

‘Okay, what do you want to say with that?’ you asked as you were walking outside with Pansy and Daphne through a park, on your way back home.

‘He ditched his date to help you out!’ Daphne said and she shook her head as it was clear that you still had trouble believing her.

‘So?’

‘He. Ditched. His. Date. To. Spend. Time. With. You,’ Pansy articulated.

‘Any good friend would to that,’ you shrugged. Nonetheless, there was some part of you that actually started to believe that what your friends were saying could be true.

‘I love you very much, but I would not pass on a date because you got stood up,’ Pansy said. ‘Just because you have to pay for your own drinks once, I won’t ruin my chances to get some.’

‘Pansy, shut up,’ Daphne said and she nudged her shoulder with you. ‘Are you convinced yet?’

You didn’t want to give in to your friends so easily so you shook your head, making Pansy groan dramatically and Daphne’s eyes sparkle. She locked her arm with yours and smiled cheerfully.

‘Alright, this one you can’t deny: last Valentine.’

Valentine’s day was a stupid day, created by capitalist manufacturers to make more profit on their products, and had no meaning whatsoever. Who was Saint Valentine even? Just because some dude died on February 14th eighteen hundred years ago, everyone suddenly had to send each other cards and roses?

However, none of this made you feel any better about the fact that you were lying in bed surrounded by empty chocolate wrappings at nearly midnight. Your Valentine’s day had been without a date or secret admirer. Nothing—no card, no flowers. Just self-bought chocolates that hadn’t even tasted that good.

But maybe you could have gotten through all of that if Blaise hadn’t had a date. You knew that it was pathetic to think, yet you couldn’t help but wonder how much better this day would have been if you had been able to share it with your best friend.

Or with your crush.

It didn’t matter how you put it, everything sounded bad in your head. You knew that Blaise was just your friend, that he would never like you the way you liked him, but there were those hopes. Those damn wishes that you knew would never come true.

When the front door of the apartment opened, you—although you weren’t quite sure why—pushed  all the empty wrappers from your bed and brushed a hand through your hair.  Whatever made you do that was a mystery to you, but you thanked it when Blaise burst into your room.

The blouse that he was wearing was fully unbuttoned and even in the dark you didn’t miss his abs. You discarded the thoughts that came swimming into your mind quickly and looked at Blaise, expecting him to explain why he had come into your room.

Instead of an answer, Blaise walked over to your bed and let himself drop on it. He fell on your legs and you let out a whine, but he didn’t seem to hear it.

‘I take your date didn’t go well?’ you said, pulling your legs from under Blaise’s body. He crawled further on the bed and rested his head near your cross-legged legs. You patted his head comfortably and saw a little smile on his face.

‘You’re amazing,’ Blaise blurted out and by the double tongue you heard he was drunk. ‘Did you know that?’ He got up and sat on his knees in front of you. ‘You’re like an angel! So sweet and beautiful…’

Blood rushed to your cheeks and you shook your head. Although he was drunk, it did feel good to hear someone say those things about you. It was Valentine’s day after all.

‘Such an innocent angel and yet I can’t help wanting to do all those bad things to you,’ Blaise continued, a rasp laced through his deep voice and he brought his face so close you could taste the alcohol from his breath.

You gulped and your heart stopped beating for a moment, only to go thrice as fast as normal after. Your throat was dry as a desert and as much as you wanted to say something, you couldn’t.

Blaise had meanwhile brought his face so close your noses were touching. His breath stroke over your lips and he smirked as he looked at them. Your hands were clasped around the sheets around you and you didn’t dare to move.

‘I won’t,’ Blaise then rasped. ‘I want to, but I won’t.’ He leaned back and you took a deep breath, refilling your empty longs with air.

‘You should go to sleep,’ you stammered, even though your inside burned with curiosity.

‘Yeah, I should,’ Blaise said and, completely different to what you had thought to happen, he took off his clothes and crawled under your sheets. As he lied on his back, he looked up to you and gave you a cocky smile. ‘Well, shouldn’t you sleep too?’

For a moment you stared at the almost completely naked boy in your bed, until his dark eyes convinced you to lie down too. Awkwardly you shifted to the side of your bed to give Blaise some space, but before you had even fully closed your eyes, he had wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you against his chest. His strong arms held you in place and you couldn’t move even if you wanted to.

Blaise’s breathing soon calmed down and he fell asleep, but you couldn’t catch sleep. You felt his heartbeat on your skin and tried to focus on his breathing so you would calm down, but just when you thought you were drifting off to sleep, Blaise’s hand travelled down your body until it rested on your hip and he, in his sleep, pressed his body even closer to yours.

‘If that doesn’t convince you, you’re just crazy.’

‘No… I’m not crazy,’ you said, your voice barely louder than a whisper.

‘We convinced you?’ Pansy said and she stopped walking. You turned around to her and nodded insecurely. ‘We’ve convinced you!’

‘But how? When? Why? How?’ you asked, giving your two friends a desperate look.

Pansy threw her arm around your shoulder and led you to an empty bench. Daphne sat down on your other side and she took your hand, giving a nod to Pansy. ‘I think it is time.’

‘It is time? For what?’ you asked, looking between your two friends.

‘Time for the plan,’ Pansy said.

‘What plan?’

‘Just listen…’

-=-=-=-=-

It was the afternoon of the wedding; you would leave in ten minutes. Time had flown by the past two months. Now you knew Blaise liked you back, everything had changed in the dynamic between the two of you. It took great effort not to give in and just kiss him when he was lying on the couch late at night or to place your hands on his chest when he came out of the shower. But you had to wait. Only for a few more minutes now.

You were standing in front of your mirror, looking at the dress Pansy and Daphne had given to you. The dress was part one of the plan that your friends had come up with and that they had been drilling into you for the past two months.

If you were honest, you liked the dress. It wasn’t something that you would usually go with, but Pansy and Daphne had good taste—you had to give them that. The light green colour of the dress matched perfectly with your skintone. Tight were it accentuated your curves and just revealing enough to make people wonder. With the high black heels you were a few centimetres taller, though Blaise was still bigger than you.

Your hair was tied up, bringing the attention to your shoulders and bare back. The thin straps of the dress rolled over your skin as you brought up your arms to put the final touches to your make-up. That wasn’t much different from any other day; you didn’t want to be like a completely different person all of a sudden.

Around your neck was the necklace that Blaise had given you for your last birthday. You could still feel how his fingers had stroked on the back of your neck when he had put on the piece of jewellery that day.

‘Are you almost-’

Blaise walked into your room but stopped talking as soon as he saw you. His eyes widened and he gulped visibly. With your sweetest smile you turned around to him and giggled at his baffled face. He seemed to recollect himself quickly, but you saw there was still a faint lingering in his eyes.

However, you weren’t done yet. You walked closer to Blaise, with the same innocent smile on your lips and when you were in front of him you turned around, showing him the open back of your dress.

‘Would you do me?’ you asked and although you could not see Blaise, you heard he sucked in his breath.

‘What?’

‘Would you do me up?’ you asked again and Blaise let out a quivering breath. His hot breath on your skin caused the blood to rush to your cheeks and you were lucky Blaise couldn’t see your face.

Blaise’s fingers started at the top of the dress and they ran down the zipper, until they had reached the bottom. He placed one hand carefully on the top of your bum while the other pulled up the zipper slowly. His movements were slow and your breath hitched in your throat at the burning feeling on your skin.

The hands stayed in their position a second longer than was necessary and you could not help the smile that formed on your lips. Once again you had to hold yourself back, even though all you wanted right now was for Blaise to unzip your dress again.

The moment had caused the air in the room to grow thick and you had to swallow away the lump in your throat before you turned around to Blaise and smiled at him.

‘Ready?’  

-=-=-=-=-

The hotel where the wedding would be was beautiful. Although you knew that Blaise’s mother had the fair share of her ex-husbands’ wealth, she never failed to amaze you with what she spent her money on. Whether it was lunch at one of the fanciest restaurants of the city or expensive gifts for Blaise’s birthday. Everything she did had to show how wealthy she was.

Just like the wedding. As you walked into the lobby of the hotel you were astonished by the beauty of it. It was like taking a step into the world you knew you would never fit in. Marble floors, glass all around, the biggest flower ornaments. All the people around you were dressed up in fancy clothes and in your dress you felt out of place between the women with jackets and shawls.

Blaise seemed to notice your discomfort and he placed his arm around your shoulder, taking you with him following the direction from a sign that told where the wedding was. You walked through hallways with high ceilings and chandeliers and passed rooms with golden frames around the doors.

‘This place is beautiful,’ you said and Blaise hummed in agreement. ‘Maybe we can have our wedding here.’

Blaise’s head snapped to your side and his arm dropped from your shoulder. For a second he stared at you, shock and curiosity radiating from his entire body, until you flashed him a grin and he relaxed. He let out a chuckle and cleared his throat, while looking away.

‘It was just a joke, Blaise,’ you said, bumping your shoulder against his. ‘But nice to know where you’re at.’

‘No, that’s not- I didn’t mean that I wouldn’t- You just-’

‘Relax, relax. I am just messing with you,’ you giggled as Blaise was rubbing his neck while looking for the right words. You pulled his arm down and took his hand, dragging him into the room where the ceremony would be.

There was a handful of guests already, chatting to each other with a glass of champagne in their hands. Upon entering the room, a man in a dark grey smoking approached you and Blaise with a tray with glasses and program booklets. You let go of Blaise’s hand and took one of each, while Blaise only took a glass.

‘Could I show you to your seats?’ the man asked, lowering the tray and when you nodded, he pulled out a little paper from his chest pocket.

‘Blaise Zabini and plus one,’ Blaise mumbled and the man nodded.

His eyes slid over the paper, scanning the floor plan, until he found Blaise’s name. ‘Ah, Blaise Zabini, I see. Right there, fourth row, third and fourth on the left.’

Something in Blaise’s stance changed and the grip on his glass got a little tighter. His shoulders broadened and he straightened his back, but he managed to conjure up a polite smile. He followed the man’s direction and walked away, his steps a little harder than usual.

You flashed the man a smile before you ran after Blaise who was standing at the end of the fourth row with chairs. Carefully you placed your hand on his shoulder and the harsh look on his face changed when he saw you. You smiled softly at him and he huffed and shook his head.

‘Let’s sit down,’ you suggested. ‘Unless you want to talk to anyone, of course.’

Blaise raised his eyebrow at you, while you took place on a chair and he snorted laughingly when he saw you were joking. He sat down next to you and leaned back in his chair, resting his calf on his other leg. ‘Believe me, there is no one here that I’d rather talk to than you.’

Looking around to distract yourself from the stupid grin Blaise was giving you, you patted his thigh. ‘I wish I could say the same, but that guy over there is definitely checking me out,’ you said, feeling the smirk grow on your face.

Blaise’s head snapped around to look who you were talking about, but there was no one behind him. ‘What guy?’

‘Why? Are you jealous?’ you asked, raising your brow at Blaise. He was still looking around, his eyes scanning the room suspiciously, before they settled on you.

‘No, I’m not jealous,’ Blaise said, throwing his arm over the back of your chair, his fingers brushing your shoulder in doing so. ‘I was just curious.’

‘If you say so, sweetie,’ you said pretending you were already focusing on something else, but actually looking at Blaise from the corner of your eye as you opened the program and looked at it. He was looking at you with a strange look in his eyes, but he said nothing. A smile fought its way on your lips and you hid it by clearing your throat and reading the program booklet in your hand.

The ceremony would start at five and the reception would at half six. There was a little free time between the ceremony and reception for the bride and groom to make the pictures and refresh themselves before dinner would start. What the guests would do at that time was up to themselves but the reception hall would open and there was an open bar, so you figured you and Blaise would find a way to entertain yourself.

Slowly the space began to fill with more people. You knew exactly none of them and even Blaise didn’t know a lot, but he could provide gossip on some. You learned that the bald man in the second row was the brother of one of Blaise’s mother’s first husbands, with whom she had always kept in touch for whatever may be the reason. The woman in the seat behind you used to be his mother’s best friend, but she had slept with her third husband. The two children on the right side of the chairs, were supposedly the groom’s children, but that was never confirmed.

When all the guests had taken their place in their assigned seats, the groom and his best man walked into the room. The groom was a tall man with a shiny bald head, that reflected the light from the candles along the aisle he walked down. He was wearing an azure blue three-piece suit with a baby pink tie and puff pocket. He looked fit, a lot better than the previous husbands you had seen. And you had seen your fair share.

After the groom and best man had taken their place, the guests stood up when the music started to play and the door at the beginning of the aisle opened. Blaise’s mother stepped into the room and all eyes were focused on her.

She was wearing a beaded tight fit with a low neckline and small straps. Her hair was half put up and there were little crystals in there that glittered when she moved her head. Around her neck hung a big necklace with glistening clear crystals that matched with her earrings. Even those who had no sense of fashion could see that a lot of effort had been put in the look.

Blaise had stiffened up next to you and he was staring at his mother as she walked by without noticing her son. He sighed as he sat down again, while his mother took place at the altar and the ceremony began.

‘At least she looks happy,’ you whispered, taking Blaise’s hand and offering him a reassuring smile.

He intertwined his fingers with yours and gave your hand a squeeze, one that was a little too hard for someone who didn’t need comfort. There was a smile on his face, but his eyes stood sombre as he watched his mother getting married again.

‘She does…’

-=-=-=-=-

The room for the reception was loud and filled with people that neither you nor Blaise wanted to talk to. Together you sat on a little sofa in the corner of the room, legs pressed together, as you sipped your drink and watched the other guests. So far, no one had tried to talk to you and although you were glad they didn’t—for they did not seem your type of people—it did feel a bit strange. Blaise was the bride’s son after all.

Your feet were already beginning to hurt and you regretted wearing the high heels. The reception was approaching its end and dinner would be in just a while, but you couldn’t wait to sit on a chair that was more comfortable than the low lounge sofa you were sitting on now.

From your purse you could hear the sound of your phone and when you took it out of there, you saw Pansy was calling you. Flashing Blaise an excusing smile, you lifted yourself from the couch and stumbled to the restroom.

‘Pansy, thank god,’ you groaned as you closed the door behind you and after making sure there was no one else in the room, you kicked off your heels. ‘This wedding is awful! Blaise’s mother hasn’t even come looking for him. I’m not even sure she knows he is here.’

‘Yeah, yeah, who cares?’ Pansy said rushed. ‘But how is the plan going?’

‘I don’t know,’ you sighed. ‘My feet hurt from your stupid heels and it doesn’t seem like he is about to budge any moment. Maybe the plan’s not that go-’

‘You better think again before you finish that sentence!’ Pansy cut you short and you chuckled. ‘Believe me, at the end of the night he will be putty in your hands. Just make sure to execute every part of the plan! Now, do you remember what to do at dinner?’

‘Of course I know. Pansy you have been drilling me for the last two months,’ you said as the door of the restroom opened and a woman came walking in. ‘Look, I gotta go. I’ll keep you updated.’

‘Okay, have fun!’ Pansy said and you said goodbye while you stepped into your heels again, getting ready to go back to the reception room again.

As you walked back to the couch where you had left Blaise, you noticed he was talking to someone. And when you came closer you noticed it was no other than his mother he was talking to. She had changed her wedding dress for a shorter white cocktail dress, showing off her legs in her high white heels.

Discomfort could be read from Blaise’s face and you tried to make your way over to him as quickly as you could, but halfway you were stopped by a girl that had had plenty of drinks already. She grabbed you by your arm and stopped you.

‘Hi!’ she exclaimed and the penetrating scent of her alcoholic breath made you almost gag. ‘Do I know you from somewhere? I feel like I know you from somewhere!’

You smiled politely at the girl and tried to free your arm from her grip but she kept holding you. ‘I so feel like I know you! Did we ever, y’know, do something?’

‘Okay, honey,’ you started, stopping her before she could say more. ‘We need to get you sobered up!’

You glanced over your shoulder at Blaise who was still taking with his mother and tried to get his attention. After some attempts he caught your movements and he visibly relaxed when he saw you were asking for him to come help you. He said goodbye to his mother and rapidly made his way over to you.

‘You’re my saviour,’ he said, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. You tried to ignore the fire in your stomach and turned to the girl in front of you. She was still holding your arm, but she was now looking at Blaise.

‘Is he your boyfriend? He’s hot!’ she whispered to you, her eyes wide.

Blaise cleared his throat to deny the girl’s question, but you were quicker and nudged him in his side. ‘He is, isn’t he? Lucky me, huh? Come on, let’s get you a water or something.’

You wrapped your arm over the girl’s shoulder and took her with you to the bar, sending Blaise a smile over your shoulder as he followed. He had a slight baffled look on his face and the corners of his eyes only lifted a little when you smiled at him.

-=-=-=-=-

‘That was a nice thing you did for that girl,’ Blaise said over dinner. He was leaning his elbow on the table, turned away from the person next to him at the table, and was looking at you while you waited for dinner.

‘Ah, you learn what to do after a few drunk girls in the club-bathroom,’ you said waving off the comment. ‘Sorry I couldn’t come help you escape from your mother earlier.’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ Blaise said, flashing you a smile that made your cheeks heat up. ‘You came right on time.’

Before you could say anything else, the waiters came with the food and your attention was taken by your plate. You had made sure you had ordered something else than Blaise, so you could without suspicion steal food from his plate. It was a simple yet effective move, all courtesy to Pansy and Daphne’s plan.

‘How’s are the asparagus?’ you asked innocent, after Blaise had taken a few bites.

He shrugged. ‘They’re alright.’

Without a warning you pricked your fork in one of the asparagus on Blaise’s plate and took a bite out of it.

‘Hey!’ Blaise cried out and he grabbed your wrist, preventing you from taking another bite. ‘Why’d you do that for? You have your own food!’

‘Yeah, but I don’t have asparagus,’ you shrugged as a smirk played on your lips.

Blaise’s grip loosened a little and you tried to bring the fork back to your mouth for another bite, but he tightened his hand and held your arm in place. You could feel your heartbeat accelerate and you were sure that Blaise could feel your pulse too. Swallowing deeply you looked up at Blaise, who was watching you with slightly furrowed brows. You bit your lip and Blaise let go suddenly, reaching for his glass of wine and taking a big sip.

A content smile spread on your mouth and you took another bite of the asparagus on your fork, turning back but keeping an eye on Blaise. He was staring at his plate and shook his head before he turned to you, giving you his usual grin.

During the rest of the dinner there was an easy conversation between you and Blaise. Once you tried to start a conversation with the people at the table, but after a few questions on your side they fell silent and you gave up. Not that you really wanted to talk with them, you were having more than enough fun with Blaise alone.

After dinner it was time for the bride and groom’s first dance. As the DJ asked everyone to gather around the dancefloor to watch the dance and so the waiters could clean the tables, you drank the last of your wine and pulled a reluctant Blaise from his chair to where everyone was gathering. Pushing past a few people you got to the edge of the dancefloor where Blaise’s mother and her new husband were standing in the middle, their arms wrapped around the other. The music started and a slow song played.

Letting go of Blaise’s hand you wrapped it around his waist and lay your head on his shoulder. A rush of butterflies shot through your stomach when, without saying anything, Blaise wrapped his own arm around your shoulder. His fingers stroked the bare skin of your upper arm slowly.

They were a beautiful couple, but you, just as Blaise, could feel there was something off. You had seen his mother’s previous husbands and boyfriends and although this man seemed genuine in his attractions there was something that didn’t fit. Something about the scene didn’t feel right to you and when the music got louder, you realised Blaise felt the same because his movements stocked and he took a little step back.

You turned your head to look at him, letting your arm fall from his waist. He gave you an apologetic look and shook his head lightly, before he stepped away and disappeared in the mass of people.  

Quickly, you ran after him, pushing the people that were in your way aside. Only now you noticed how many people were actually at the wedding, as it took you a while to get through the rows of guests that were watching the first dance. When you finally stepped into the clear space, you saw Blaise leave the room and you followed him swiftly.

In the corridor to the lobby of the hotel you caught up with Blaise. He had taken off his jacket already and was struggling with his tie when you ran into him. A frustrated sigh came from his lips when his hand slipped from the tie and you quickly stepped forward, pushing away his hands and taking his tie instead.

‘Are you alright?’ you asked softly, not feeling the need to talk loud because you did not want people to hear you and also because you were standing very close to him. You loosened his tie a little and rested your hands on his chest for a while as he tried to find the words to say. His heart was beating fast; you could feel it through his shirt. When you looked at him, he swallowed deeply and you took a step back.

‘It just… it doesn’t feel right! I have seen this all before, you know? With all the guys before this one—it was the exact same. She gets sick of them after a year and then she meets someone new and the whole cycle starts over. I mean, good for her that she enjoys herself and everything, but I am sick of being involved in her shit. I don’t want to go to another wedding, visit another birthday party or housewarming.’ Blaise sighed and he dropped his head to his chest. ‘I know it is selfish, but I can’t help thinking it.’

You stepped closer to Blaise again and lifted his head with your index finger, forcing him to look at you. ‘It is not selfish. Actually I was thinking the same,’ you said and Blaise looked surprised. ‘I don’t think it is fair that you have to go through all of this. You deserve to be happy just as much as she does, love.’

Blaise smiled at you and he nodded slowly. You took his hand and tilted your head to the side. ‘Now, we could go home or stay here and get the money out of that open bar. Your choice.’

Blaise laughed and he brought your hand to his face, pressing a quick kiss to it before pulling you back to the wedding. ‘Well, when you put it like that…’

-=-=-=-=-

The music was loud and the bass thrummed in your chest. The lights around the dancefloor changed the colour of the wedding hall in all the shades of the rainbow. On the ceiling hung a disco ball and it reflected the lights to all over the place.

Screaming along to the lyrics of your favourite song, you threw your hands in the air and moved your body to the beat of the music. There was a big smile on your face and Blaise laughed at you as you danced.

The smile on your face turned into a smirk as you heard Pansy’s voice in the back of your head, encouraging you to get closer. But, just as you were planning to make your move, someone patted on your shoulder. You turned around and were faced with a guy you hadn’t seen before.

The man had dirty blonde long hair, gelled back on his head, and his forehead shone with sweat. When he opened his mouth you were met with the scent of alcohol and you stumbled back, right into Blaise’s arms. He held his hand on your hips.

‘Care to dance, lovely?’ the man asked, flashing you a smooth smile.

Blaise’s fingers dug into your hips and you got hypersensitive of the closeness between the two of you. An awkward smile painted your lips as you shook your head at the stranger. ‘I’m sorry,’ you said. ‘I’m already here with someone.’

The guy nodded understandingly and he headed off again, disappearing in the dancing people. You laughed relieved and turned around to Blaise, while his hands stayed on your hips. He seemed to be contemplating something and after a silence said: ‘You can go dance with him if you want to.’

‘Are you kidding?’ you laughed, searching Blaise’s face for a trace of joke.

‘No, I’m just saying—I would understand if you want to…’

Finally making the move you wanted before, you placed your arms around Blaise’s neck and pulled your body closer against his. You brought your face close to Blaise’s, so there were only a few centimetres between your noses. ‘This, right here, is where I’m meant to be. Now shut up and dance with me!’

Blaise’s eyes darkened for a bit and the grip on your hips got stronger. His hands moved along as you swayed your hips and a smile played on his lips as he finally gave in and danced with you. Not once did he break the eye contact with you and you drowned in his dark eyes. The bass of the music was lost in your body as your heartbeat accelerated and it got so heavy you felt it throughout your entire body.

A fire was spread through your inside, coming from the hands on your hips. You didn’t know what music was playing anymore or who was around you, where you were. It could have just been Blaise and you in an empty room.

Your eyes were glued to his, fearing the magic would break if you lost eye contact. All the stars in the sky could not compare to the sparkles that you saw in Blaise’s eyes as he looked at you. A warm, strange feeling rose low in your stomach the longer you looked at Blaise.

The air around you was delicate and filled with electricity. But so delicate that it was broken immediately when someone bumped into you. You were almost knocked off your feet but Blaise caught you.

A nervous chuckle escaped your mouth when Blaise put you back to your own feet. A quick glance around the room was enough to see that a few people were leaving already and as another guest bumped into you, you turned to Blaise.

‘Let’s go,’ he said, understanding your look. ‘I’ve had enough of this.’

-=-=-=-=-

The streets were cold and empty this late at night and a chill ran down your spine as the wind blew over your bare arms. You rubbed your arms as you felt the goose bumps forming on your skin. Blaise was quick to notice you were cold and he took off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders.

‘I told you to bring a coat,’ he said as his hands lingered on your shoulders.

‘And miss the opportunity to wear yours? No thanks,’ you shot back, an innocent smile on your face.

‘So you planned for this to happen?’ Blaise joked and you felt your cheeks grow hotter.

A silence fell and you stared at your feet while you walked. They had been hurting all day now and you feared your toes would be dead when you’d finally arrive home. To make things worse, the street you were walking in went upwards. With every step the bottom of your feet started to burn more to the point where you had to stop for a moment.

‘Hold on,’ you muttered, grabbing Blaise’s arm to stop him. You clung onto him as you lifted one foot, moaning in relieve as the pressure was taken off it.

‘What’s wrong?’ Blaise asked a little worried, giving you one hand to lean on while the other steadied your back.

‘It’s the stupid shoes,’ you said, now lifting your other foot. ‘They hurt like hell.’

You groaned again as you put your foot back on the ground, but quickly put a fake smile on your face when you noticed Blaise’s worried look. You managed a little step but with the next one you couldn’t help the painful whimper. Blaise rolled his eyes at you and held your hand back, preventing you from taking more steps.

‘Come on, get on my back,’ he said, stepping in front of you.

Not needing to hear that a second time, you jumped on Blaise’s back and wrapped your arms around his neck. He placed his big hands under your thighs and proceeded to walk.

It wasn’t far to your apartment anymore and within fifteen minutes you turned the corner of your street. As much as you didn’t want to, you patted Blaise’s shoulder, letting him know that you would walk the final few metres. He lowered and you stepped of his back, pulling your dress, that had crept up high on your thighs, back down, not failing to miss the look Blaise shot at your legs.

The final steps to the apartment building you made in silence, holding onto Blaise’s hand. Without really realising it you had intertwined your fingers. Not letting go of your hand, Blaise opened the door of the building and he stepped in with you into the dark.

You eyed the stairs for a second before you stepped towards the elevator. There was no way that you would walk the stairs with so much pain in your feet. However, when you wanted to press the button, your eyes fell on a paper with ‘out of order’ on the door of the elevator.

‘You’ve got to be kidding,’ you whined and threw your head back in your neck.

‘Okay, drama queen,’ Blaise said and he at last let go of your hand. ‘I’m only doing this because you’re in pain!’ He placed one arm behind your back and the other in the crook of your knees and he swept you off your feet. You squealed and immediately wrapped your arms around Blaise’s neck, almost bumping your heads together.

With you in his arms, Blaise walked up the stairs and even went so far as walk to the door of your apartment, where he finally put you down to get his keys from his pocket. There was a loaded silence as you stepped into the dark apartment, stumbling into the living room with Blaise behind you.

You kicked off your heels and moaned relieved as you dropped down on the couch. Blaise chuckled lightly as he stood in the doorway behind you. You turned around to him, moving to sit on your knees, and looked at him. There was an expression on his face that you couldn’t really place.

Averting your eyes you played with the hem of your dress. You had hoped that whatever was about to happen had already happened because right now you didn’t really know what to say. So far everything had been included in Pansy and Daphne’s plan but they hadn’t prepared you for this part. Now it was all up to you and you knew that if you didn’t say something right now, you would lose your chance.

‘Blaise-’ you started but you were stopped when Blaise walked towards you and pressed his lips on yours.

A gasp came from you and your eyes widened at the sudden move. There was an explosion of butterflies in your body and electricity shot through your veins. Before you could do anything, Blaise had already let go of you and he was stumbling back.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, avoiding your eyes and taking a deep breath. ‘I just—I’ve liked you for a long time and after tonight I thought that maybe-’

‘I know,’ you interrupted and Blaise looked up to you in surprise. ‘Pansy and Daphne told me two months ago and they helped me to crack you tonight.’

‘Crack me? What do you mean?’

‘I mean that I like you too,’ you said with a smile and walked over to Blaise, pulling him closer by the collar of his shirt. Your face was only mere centimetres away from his, his hot breath on your skin. Your lips were hovering over his, the smirk on them growing with the second.

Blaise’s eyes darkened at your closeness and he placed his hands on your lower back, pulling your body against his. You raised your eyebrow at him, your fingers toying with the button on his collar. A groan came from the back of Blaise’s throat as you didn’t move any closer to him, keeping the little space between your lips.

‘Kiss me, you idiot,’ he breathed, closing the space between the two of you.

The electricity that you had felt at the first kiss was nothing compared to the fire that started in your body at this one. Your skin grew hot as it ached for you to be closer, to feel more. Your lips were on fire and you knew right at that moment that nothing could ever be so addicting as Blaise’s kiss.

Blaise’s hands travelled down your body, slipping under your dress. His fingertips created electric shocks on your skin and a thousand tingles shot through your body on the places he touched you.

You wanted him closer. You wanted more. Never leaving his lips, you unbuttoned his shirt and loosened his tie. Your hands got familiar to his chest as you traced the lines of his muscles, feeling like you could shoot flames from your fingers. Blaise’s skin felt warm under your touch, growing hotter the longer you were in his touch.

When you finally pulled apart you were breathing heavily. You stared into the dark eyes that made you forget all your troubles. Blaise’s thumb stroke the smile on your face and you hummed happily.

‘I think I’m in love with you,’ he whispered, never breaking eye contact with you.

You nodded and brought your face close once again, letting out a quivering breath before you spoke. Lips brushing over each other and noses bumping together softly, you spoke in a whisper.

‘Good, because so am I.’

- - - - - - -

general HP taglist: @harry-pottery-barn @missmulti @kingalrdy @missswriter @figlia--della--luna @aspiringsloth20 @awritingtree @bi-andready-tocry @lilulo-12fanfiction @ananad1 @treestarrrrrrrr @your-hispanichufflepuff​ @thefandomplace​

MASTERLIST

[lin-nin]

Tribulation & Tenderness - Chapter 10

Ship: Main Technoblade x Reader, some Dream x Reader

Plot:   You're a princess in a Kingdom suffering a years long famine. In a   desperate attempt to help your people, you accept one simple offer:   Marriage to the crown prince of a neighboring kingdom. Anything to help  your people survive. Surely it can't be too bad, can it?

Chapter List: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 Disclaimer:   Cross-posted on Wattpad (discontinued) and Ao3. This is based off of everyone's CHARACTERS. I do not write fanfic based off the actual people.

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Chapter 10: Wedding Plans

< | Previous Chapter

Your first night at the new kingdom was rough. You laid in your bed for hours, your blanket pulled to your chin. You wanted nothing more to sleep- it sounded like a blessing at the moment. It didn’t come easy, and you eventually moved to look out the window instead. The blanket hung around your shoulders as you did, a quiet sigh spilling from your lips. The view outside felt completely different at night, the soft glow of the moon spilling over the land. In the surrounding city you could make out the warm glow from the lamps. It was surreal, feeling so much more different than your home.

You pondered about what your life here would entail. Techno hadn’t really said too much. You figured you would be told as the days went on what to expect. You figured most of your time as of current would be dedicated to preparation for the wedding. Maybe even some training, if Techno found time to do so. You didn’t know what his duties would entail, and how similar they would be to George’s. You’d adjust inevitably. Exhaustion was weighing heavy on you, your gaze once more shifting to the bed longingly. You weren’t entirely sure if you would be able to fall asleep just yet. You pondered going to the library, but decided against it. That was on the other side of the castle. You didn’t have the confidence to go alone at night, either. Beyond Techno and his brothers, you didn’t know who to trust.

So, with a defeated sigh, you trudged back to the bed and wrapped the blanket tight around you. Might as well try to sleep. Absorbing yourself into your thoughts would only lead to exhaustion tomorrow. Which wasn’t what you really wanted. You knew tomorrow would inevitably be busy. The wedding had been mentioned multiple times, you knew there needed to be planning for that.

It felt like you had only blinked, head full of thoughts of the wedding, when you were cracking your eyes open. Light spilled into the room through the window you had gazed out of earlier, making you sigh. Breakfast. The thought made your stomach turn a little. This would be your first proper introduction to the court. Sure you knew plenty of people, but you had managed to evade dinner last night due to the tour. You couldn’t as easily escape the obligation of breakfast. If you did, your body would make you pay dearly later. Besides, you couldn’t avoid it forever.

You peeled yourself out of bed, wandering towards the closet. You wanted to make a good impression on everyone, without being so horribly overstated. You freted, before settling on one of your simpler dresses. You set it aside, thumbing through your jewelry for something to wear. You briefly ran your thumb over the necklace Dream had given you, marveling it. It was almost tempting to wear it, to have that comfort and security you had always felt with the blonde. Yet you decided against it, choosing something less understated that your mother had given you on one of your birthdays.

Once satisfied with the choice in clothes, you stole away to the bathroom. It had been a couple of days since you last bathed, and you figured it wouldn’t hurt. You did skeptically eye the full bath, trying to guess when servants had slipped into your room to fill it. No matter. Steam rolled along the surface of it, and you couldn’t help but sigh as you slid into it. It worked rather quickly to relax your muscles and nerves. You definitely needed that. You eyed the small shelf by the tub, picking up a few of the bottles to smell them.

One smelled of vanilla, which you deeply considered. The other you smelled carried the scent of rose and lemon, a scent you easily recognized. It was hardly different from the one you used at home, which you had forgotten to bring. The only thing that seemed to be missing was the base note of patchouli, and you did miss the earthiness just a touch. All the same, you were content that this was here, wherever it came from. You quickly used the bottle to help freshen yourself up. A quick run over with a damp cloth ensured you were rid of any dirt. As the water began to cool, you finally pulled yourself up and out of the tub to dress.

You lingered in the room, fingers running over your dress a few times. Nervously. You really didn’t want to walk into the dining hall alone. As if to answer your silent pleas, there was a knock on your door that you quickly answered. Techno stood on the other end, peering down at you through his glasses. You offered a soft smile, trying to hide your nerves.

“I figured I should walk with you to breakfast. Since we missed dinner and all,” He explained, but you only nodded. You stepped out of the room, shutting the door behind you as you did so.

“Right, sorry about that, still. I appreciate you walking with me.” Your hands once more smoothed down over your dress, almost fussing on if your appearance was perfect. Who all would be there? Perhaps just a few other nobles, maybe the King’s advisors. It shouldn’t be too big, should it?

“Making things seem distant between us would only give people reason to dislike you.” The words only served to make you shudder, a frown on your face. You easily recalled Philza’s words of the advisor, the thought causing your stomach to turn. This was going to be a rough breakfast, you already knew.

“Right. Some people aren’t exactly excited about this. That’s fine. I’m prepared for that,” You muttered in an attempt to reassure yourself. Techno reached up, giving a reassuring pat against your back.

“They’re harmless. It doesn’t matter what they think,” Techno muttered as the pair of you descended the stairs. You sighed but nodded. He was right, honestly. It wasn’t like the king hated you, and the rest of the royal family seemed to at least not hate you. So long as they didn’t hate you, you hoped you could stomach the rest. From down the hall you could already hear Tommy making a fuss, causing you to smile. That helped ease your nerves. It was a different environment than you were used to.

You glanced at the table as you walked in, relieved by the familiar faces around the table. Techno moved towards his father, pausing to pull out one of the empty chairs and motioning you into it. Your eyes scanned the few unfamiliar faces as you sat down, trying to ease your anxiety.

“Mornin’ Techno! Mornin’ Techno’s wife!” Tommy called as Techno sat between you and his father, causing the pink-headed prince to glance at his brother.

“She’s not my wife yet, Tommy,” he simply clarified, sounding far from amused.

“How’d you sleep, kiddo?” Philza detracted the attention from his rambunctious nephew, offering you a smile. You relaxed a little, appreciating the older man’s words.

“I slept alright,” You murmured, offering a feeble smile. You hadn’t slept great, or all that much, and you had a feeling it showed on your face.

“It’s a new place, that’s always rough. I’m sure it’ll get better soon.” You could only nod at his words, thankful for the reassurance. He was nice, and truthfully you enjoyed that about him. He felt very much fatherly. Techno slid a cup in front of you, steam billowing from it. You smiled thankfully, offering a quiet thank you as you picked it up. Tea was definitely acceptable this early in the morning, especially as a slight chill clung to the castle.

The man sat beside Philza cleared his throat, offering a gentle smile. Your attention quickly turned to him, brow furrowing a little. He wasn’t someone you recognized- definitely didn’t meet him yesterday. “A pleasure to finally meet you. I’m Eret- cousin to those three.” He motioned to the prince’s as he talked, and you nodded slightly.

“Nice to meet you. Techno never mentioned having a cousin.” You set down the cup in your hands, glancing at Techno briefly. He furrowed his brow, a soft ‘heh?’ leaving him.

“He likes to forget about him.” Wilbur spoke up, causing Tommy to laugh. You sighed, shaking your head with a small laugh.

“I don’t know how! Eret’s been here since he was little,” Tommy spoke between laughter, making your gaze turn back to the brunette across from you. He seemed almost embarrassed, shrugging.

“I’m sure Techno had a lot on his mind whenever he spoke of the kingdom, there’s a lot of people to remember here.” Eret didn’t seem too bothered by the lapse of information, and you shrugged.

“He mentioned Tubbo, though. Is he forgetful enough to mention a family friend as opposed to his actual family?” You teased, throwing a sly grin at Techno. It was easy to slip into this with the egging on of his brothers.

“Oh- Did he really? I mean, I practically did grow up with Tommy,” Tubbo asked, head popping up.

“You’re like a little brother to us, Tubbo. You were always there, Eret didn’t come to the kingdom until Techno was almost seven, remember?” Wilbur pushed, and the brunette seemed to purse his lips in thought.

“Not well, no. We love Eret anyways!” The man between Eret and Tubbo scoffed, a hand holding his head. Tired brown eyes stared at his plate, a glass bottle in hand. He looked rough, stubble lining his jaw and brown locks falling into his eyes. You eyed the brown liquid within the bottle as silence fell over the table.

“That’s Schlatt, the advisor Philza spoke of yesterday,” Techno’s voice came quietly against your ear, making you jump in surprise. When the hell had he gotten there? Your attention quickly turned back to the man as he took a drink from the bottle. Was that alcohol?

Physically, you could see the similarities between him and Tubbo, but that was about it. Even now, the younger brunette seemed largely uncomfortable next to him. It made your chest pang, wondering what all had happened to cause the rift in their relationship.

Schlatt stood up with a grunt, sloppily pushing in his chair. “Come on, Tubbo. We’ve got work to do,” Schlatt called. There was a drawl in his voice that made you rather uncomfortable. You didn’t like him, and you had a feeling it was similar to the way the princes felt towards him.

Tubbo looked down to his plate, seemingly steeling himself. “Yes, Schlatt,” he muttered softly. What had Schlatt done that had made the brunette become so quiet? You didn’t like it one bit. Before Tubbo could even move to follow his father, you spoke out.

“Actually, I was hoping I could borrow Tubbo for today!” Tubbo’s head snapped up at that, eyes wide. You blinked, not even sure what you were saying. Schlatt stopped his walk, bottle hanging from his hand as he turned to look at you. Perhaps glare was a better word? You swallowed, steeling yourself as you continued, “I’d really appreciate his input on the wedding plans.”

“The wedding,” Schlatt sneered, eyes narrowed. His gaze moved from you, to Techno, then to his son. “Whatever, take the bastard for the ridiculous wedding. Like I give a damn.” With his words, he took a swig from the bottle before sauntering out of the dining hall. With his leave, the tension in the room seemed to dissipate.

A relieved sigh escaped Tubbo’s lips as he slumped in his seat, closing his eyes. “Thank you so much,” He mumbled into his hands. You sighed, shaking your head a little. Not exactly what you had expected, but you’d take it. 

“I hate that he keeps calling you that,” Tommy grumbled, while Wilbur just patted his shoulder.

“It gets him away from Schlatt for today, so what’s it matter?” Wilbur offered with a shrug. Tommy just continued to grumble under his breath while Tubbo offered a weak smile.

“You don’t actually have to help with the wedding. I just didn’t feel right leaving you to go with him.” You brushed it off with a smile. It was true, though. You truly didn’t want to send Tubbo off with Schlatt. The man gave off a bad vibe you didn’t like in the slightest. So, coming up with an excuse seemed the most feasible. The king sighed and shook his head, otherwise staying quiet. You had a feeling this wasn’t too different from a normal morning.

“Actually, I wouldn’t mind helping! If everyone doesn’t mind,” Tubbo sheepishly chimed, moving to rub the nape of his neck. Tommy groaned dramatically, slouching in his chair.

“Tubbo, come on. You’re gonna make us do stupid wedding planning all day? With Eret and Wilbur and Techno? At one time?” You snickered a little as he complained, head shaking. Wilbur smacked him in the back of his head in response to his dramatics.

“Your opinion doesn’t count, Tommy.” His voice was so plain, even as the young blonde whined and rubbed the back of his head.

“I’ll show you what does count! I swear, I’ll beat you so hard you won’t be able to remember your own name!” He shoved at his brother, and you shook your head.

“I don’t mind if you tag along, Tubbo. I’m sure the input will be appreciated,” You spoke over the ruckus of Wilbur and Tommy as the two pushed at each other. The words seemed to make Tubbo glow with excitement, almost as if the whole thing with Schlatt hadn’t ever happened.

“Alright, boys, go outside before you break a plate or the table. Go on, do your fighting there.” Philza spoke from behind them, and your head popped up. He must have moved while you were focused on Tubbo. Tommy was stuck beneath Wilbur’s arm, the older yanking him around. Philza unceremoniously pulled out the chairs they sat on, forcing them apart as he shooed them away. He looked exasperated, but fond of their antics all the same.

“I’ll judge!” Tubbo called, standing up hurriedly. He gave a brief, sloppy bow towards the king before running after the two princes.

“Is it like this every morning?” You sat down your utensils, reclining in your seat.

“Not every morning, but a lot of them. It wasn’t always this way,” Eret shook his head but smiled. You turned to Techno, where he stared towards the door with an affectionate look in his eyes. It was almost sweet, seeing the way he gazed after the rambunctious trio.

“It only started to get like that a few years ago. Not quite becoming of princes, but they don’t seem in a rush to behave like royalty.” Techno’s voice had the same fondness his gaze did, and you hummed in acknowledgement as you sipped the last of your tea, cradling the cup close.

“Not anymore, at least. We should go and start doing some planning ourselves,” Philza muttered, turning towards the king. The man nodded, slowly rising from his seat.

“Please see to it your brothers don’t destroy anything this time, Technoblade.” He gave him a pointed look, making him sigh and nod. The king walked away, Philza tailing behind him. Leaving you, Techno, and Eret sitting.

“Well, let’s get started? There’s no telling how long it’ll take. Especially since Wilbur is currently in the process of fighting Tommy.” Eret shook his head as he spoke. You nodded, moving to stand. A hand entered your vision before you could even get to your feet. You shook your head, unable to help a laugh.

“Should I get used to you not letting me get out of my seat on my own?” You managed a lighthearted jab at him as you took his hand, allowing him to gently pull you up.

“Yes.” The way he said it was so flat and monotone, you couldn’t stop the laugh bursting from your lips. You just shook your head, giving a lopsided grin.

“Thank you, Techno. Wanting to teach me to fight but not letting me get out of a chair without hovering.” His lips pursed at that, eyebrows furrowing. Like he saw nothing wrong with it. Not that there truly was, it just seemed almost contradictory. Eret even seemed equally amused, though he didn’t poke at his cousin the way you did.

“I’ll go ahead and get the boys before they destroy each other. I’ll meet you in the ballroom with them.” Techno gently pushed you towards his cousin, before striding off in front of you. You shrugged, walking alongside Eret towards the ballroom.

“It’s gonna be an interesting day, isn’t it?” You questioned, glancing up at Eret. Of course he was tall. It really did run in the family.

“Most likely, yes. They’re never quiet, and Tommy gets antsy quick,” Eret said with a laugh, making you smile. You didn’t think you would mind too much if it made it lively. It would take care of the uneasiness you felt regarding the wedding. A relief to the tension you had a feeling might form if it were just you and Techno.

“You didn’t always live here at the castle?” You broached the silence that had spread over the pair of you, and he hummed a little.

“No. I came around the time I was eight. Their mother was my aunt, and some things happened with my parents. Philza ended up adopting me, so I’m just a cousin on their other side now,” He chuckled, and you nodded. That made some sense. It just seemed the castle was hardly lacking in boys to run the place.

“I see. I imagine that keeps it rather busy here.” You shook your head, following as Eret opened the door to the ballroom.

“Very. Right! This is where the majority of the wedding will be held. The celebrations, namely. The formal ceremony will be held in the gardens, we’ll go through those in a little bit.” Eret clapped his hands together, leading you through the ballroom. He pointed to various spots, explaining the plans he had for the celebrations. You would nod along, pitching in your own opinions when you felt it necessary.

“I think you should go to the brothel and get some women,” A new voice chimed in from near the veranda, making you jump.

“I like the way you think, Big Q! It’s not a party without some women!” Tommy responded, and you turned towards the voices. You blinked at the new person standing among the princes, a lopsided grin on his face. His black hair was splayed messily on his head, smudges of dirt along his face. You had a feeling he had been messing with the other, who also had dirt on their faces and bodies. What a mess. Tubbo and Tommy even seemed to have a few forming bruises on their arms, Tommy’s hidden by the same green bandana he had worn in the portrait you saw in the dining hall. 

“I don’t think the princess is fond of the idea of there being whores at her wedding, Quackity,” Wilbur piped up upon seeing your rather deadpan face. The expression was similarly mimicked by Techno, who stood behind the four of them.

“Princess? Oh- shit!” Quackity did a double take, before giving a hurried bow. Seemingly remembering exactly who he was talking to. Amusement at the almost embarrassed look on his face caused your lips to twitch up into a smile.

“Right. Yes. I would prefer there to not be women from the brothel at my wedding, Quackity.” You tested his name out carefully, and he slowly stood up from his bow. Tommy snickered from behind him, failing to hide his amusement at the fool he seemingly made for himself. He rubbed the back of his neck, laughing softly.

“I would also prefer to keep it that way,” Techno said as he stepped around the group, back towards you. He stood on your other side, leaving you in the middle of the two men. Which made you feel incredibly small.

“You two are so boring, what’s the fun without women?” Tommy groaned, trailing behind Wilbur and Tubbo as they wandered over as well. 

“You’ll have fun anyways, Tommy. You always manage.” Tubbo barely looked at his friend, eagerly listening to Eret as he went over what he had been telling you once more. The group gathered around you, but you hardly minded right now.

“I was thinking, Tubbo and I could do some of the music. We’ll have other musicians too, but I think it’d be nice to be able to play. It’s not every day your little brother gets married,” Wilbur talked, grinning over to Techno. Techno huffed, head shaking as the older affectionately threw out the term.

“Oh, that’d be wonderful!” You lit up with a smile, fully on board with the idea. Wilbur smiled back, seemingly fond of your approval.

“And,” he started, his grin turning almost mischievous, “I think it would be even better if our groom here plays a piece himself. You do play violin after all, Techno.” The words made your hopeful gaze turn towards Techno. He looked almost neutral, though his eyebrows were furrowed and a faint flush painted his cheeks.

“Well, I-” He grumbled, looking down to you and your soft smile. He gave an almost frustrated sigh, looking away. “Fine. I’ll play something.” He huffed a little.

“Perfect! So we’ve got rough plans for the ballroom decorations and the music.” You clapped your hands together, grinning.

“What the hell, Techno? You never play for anyone!” Tommy whined, eyes wide as he looked between you and him.

“It is his wedding, Tommy. It’s only fitting he plays,” Tubbo defended. Tommy, Tubbo, and Quackity bickered about Techno’s playing as Eret led that large group towards the veranda. Techno held your hand as you went down the stairs. Tommy made a mocking gag sound, and Quackity simply imitated Techno, holding his hand out for Tommy.

“Quackity, stop it, I’m not holding your hand,” Tommy complained, nose wrinkling. You shook your head, eyes rolling. They really were like children. 

You peered at the flowers as you walked to the gardens, looking for any you recognized. Eret spoke about the plans, and you absently nodded along. At least until he showed you where the ceremony would be held. “Here?” You murmured curiously, looking at the flowers. Your fingers ran over the petals, trying to note the flowers you did see. The easiest to identify was the roses- why was it always roses? Red bled into the white from the edges, and you smiled just slightly. They were pretty, most of the ones back home were either red, white, or yellow. Rarely hybrids. The only time you received a hybrid of one was from dream, but they were never red and white. Always red and yellow.

Curled near the roses stood a plant with broad green leaves and occasional clumps of pink flowers. It was faintly familiar, and you struggled to place it. You remembered Dream stating that they weren’t the best flower, trying his best to remove it from the gardens. You had no idea why, though, as it seemed to be doing just fine here. A hand grabbed yours as you went to run your fingers along the leaves, tugging it away.

“Careful,” Techno mumbled. He dropped your hand, lifting the leaves carefully. Behind them was a thick branch, coated in thorns. You had barely noticed them, stretching out about an inch. You had been so focused on the flowers.

“Thank you,” you murmured, turning back towards Eret with a soft smile. “This’ll do wonderful. What’s next?”

“That’s most of the basic stuff for decoration at the moment. I think Nihachu wanted to discuss catering? I have to get some stuff together for your dress, but I can come find you when I have,” Eret explained. You nodded, seemingly content with the idea.

“Do we have to come along?” Tommy groaned loudly, clearly growing bored with all of the proceedings. You laughed, head shaking.

“You never had to, Tommy. I think the only people obligated are Techno and I.” You shrugged, letting the group move back towards the castle.

“Come on then, Tubbo. Let’s get out of here, this is so damn boring.” The brunette looked towards you as if for confirmation, and you simply waved your hand. You didn’t expect them to truly tag along for too long. Especially Tommy, he didn’t seem the patient type to deal with planning.

“I’ll come check in later!” Tubbo tried to offer as Tommy, and Quackity, practically dragged him off. For what, you had no idea, but you didn’t want to ask questions. This thinned out the large group, allowing you to let out a soft breath. It was less crowded, which you definitely appreciated.

“Nihachu said she’d be in the dining hall with some samples of food for you to try,” Wilbur spoke, pausing at the top of the veranda. He watched Techno help you up, Eret slipping away from the three of you to go do what he needed.

“Sounds good with me,” You hummed. This might be one of the longer parts of the day, but you didn’t mind. Food was important, especially for a wedding. Even if it was stunning with beautiful music, you knew it would feel empty without proper food. As most celebrations would. Inside the dining hall was the same woman Wilbur was with the day prior, fussing over various plates on the table.

“Nihachu!” Wilbur called, causing the blonde to look up. She grinned up at him, practically bounding over to him to give him a hug. 

“Staying to taste the food?” She asked, focusing on him for a few moments.

“I’d never miss an excuse to eat it outside of meals.” He ruffled her hair, making her wrinkle her nose. She turned towards you and Techno, grin softening to a smile as she curtseyed slightly. 

“I’m Nihachu, it’s so nice to finally meet you,” She greeted warmly. You couldn’t help but return the smile, almost relieved to see another woman among the boys you seemed constantly surrounded by.

“You too. It’s a blessing to have someone who isn’t a prince to deal with.”

“Hey!” Wilbur gasped in offense, echoed by Techno’s quiet ‘Heh?’ of confusion. Nihachu only laughed, covering her mouth with a hand.

“Come on, there’s lots to try and discuss. Everything can be mixed and matched, as well. We have plenty of time between now and the wedding to refine everything.” She motioned the three of you towards the table, pointing to various dishes and explaining them to you. Some of them were unbelievably good, and you made sure to point that out. She seemed pleased with the praise each time, making note to include whatever you praised into the catering.

As she pointed to one of the dishes, you noted the ring on her finger, piquing your interest. “Are you married?” You asked without much thought, motioning to the simple band. Nihachu glanced to the ring, cheeks reddening slightly.

“Oh-! No, not yet, at least. It’s a ring my girlfriend gave me to promise she only had good intentions,” She murmured in embarrassment. Wilbur laughed beside her, trying and failing to hide the fact. She pushed at him slightly, trying to bring the focus back to the food instead. 

After a couple of hours of tasting and discussing, it was finally finished. She seemed content with the feedback, promising she would make sure everything was perfect. She actually seemed quite ecstatic to have the job she did. She simply took the paper she made her notes on, running off towards the kitchens once more.

“Right, all that’s left is the dress. Eret is setting up in one of the spare rooms,” Wilbur informed, motioning towards the exit. “I’m going to help Nihachu clear this.” You looked on in amusement as Wilbur began picking up plates, finding it hilarious that a prince was taking care of dirty dishes. All the same, you didn’t say anything and left the room with Techno. He was quiet as he led you towards the spare rooms, eyebrows furrowed.

“Do you need me to help with the dress?” He murmured, not exactly looking at you as he hovered outside the door. You blinked a little, processing the information. He didn’t want to help? Then you realized you were probably getting measurements taken, and who knew what else. Was he too embarrassed to help?

“I should be fine. Why don’t you go talk to your father about getting Tubbo a room here? Get him away from Schlatt,” you offered an alternative with a smile. A look of relief flooded his eyes, and he nodded.

“I’ll come get you in a while,” He informed, watching as you slid into the room. Eret smiled at you from where he was hovering over various fabrics, motioning you towards the middle of the room.

“I see everyone decided to abandon you,” he joked, picking up a strip of paper and walking towards you. All too familiar with the process that was about to happen, you lifted your arms. Eret took the paper, placing it against your arm and marking it.

“Wilbur decided to stick with Nihachu, and Techno really was trying to find a reason to not come in here,” You laughed, watching as Eret moved around, taking various measurements and marking them onto the strip he was using.

“That sounds like him. You send him off?” He leaned down, wrapping the strip around your waist snuggly.

“Told him to talk to his father about getting Tubbo one of the spare rooms in the castle, the boys mentioned it yesterday and I see why.”

“Schlatt is questionable at best. It would do Tubbo good to get away from him. I need to measure your legs,” He murmured, eyebrows furrowing. His cheeks painted pink, and he seemed to have only just realized what it entailed.

“It’s just measurements, Eret. It’s not scandalous,” you muttered reassuringly. You shifted the skirts of your dress as needed. Eret fell silent, seemingly embarrassed as he crouched in front of you to do the needed measurements on your legs. You tried your best to not laugh at how flustered he seemed, keeping any comments to yourself.

“Right, okay,” he cleared his throat, standing up and walking back towards the fabrics. You followed, peering over his shoulder. “Is this everything you were hoping for?”

“It’s… not, no. I never really planned to have a wedding with the prince of another kingdom, let alone one who was to become king. I thought I’d marry a noble in my own kingdom and live out my life there,” You explained. Eret picked up one of the white fabrics, holding it against your body and examining it. For what, exactly, you weren’t sure. Still, you let him do as he needed.

“That makes sense. Are you disappointed with this, though?” He seemed to want to talk, but you weren’t entirely against it. Not many people had cared to ask you how you felt about this whole thing. 

“No, not at all. It presents options I was never granted back home.” Eret held up a delicate lace, layering it over a fabric to hold against you.

“Good. Hopefully everything turns out as you want it to. I think that should be all now? There’s not too much to be done until the dress is actually made,” He murmured, setting the fabrics down.

“Perfect, just call on me whenever you need me to check in or anything.” You beamed, only glancing at the fabrics as he continued to shift through them. You truly trusted him on whatever he was deciding to make. Everyone here seemed competent enough, though it made you feel a little useless. You supposed all you could do truly was offer feedback, which they seemed content with. 

Techno was leaned against a wall outside the room, glancing up when you opened the door. You smiled at him, and he simply pushed off the wall, motioning towards where your rooms were. “Get changed, put on pants,” He said flatly, making you arch an eyebrow at him.

“What for, exactly?” You questioned, following him all the same.

“Unless you want to learn to fight in a dress.” He glanced at you, eyebrows raised in question. Your stomach flipped in excitement, and you desperately suppressed the urge to run to your room.

“I think pants would be better for that,” you laughed, nerves leaking through the sound. Finally, you were going to learn to fight. Next Chapter | >

[dmcvergillament]

Bedtime Stories [Part 1]

Fem!Reader x Vergil

Summary: Unable to sleep, young Nero requests a bedtime story. You happily oblige and weave a tale that Vergil recognizes. Nero falls asleep to the legend of the dancer and the dragon and Vergil remembers how he fell in love with you.

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Tucking little Nero in for the night, Y/N kisses his forehead. "Sweet dreams, my little angel."

Vergil picks up toys off the floor.

Nero catches Y/N's hand to stop them from leaving. "I...can't sleep without a story."

Vergil looks up from studying a blue bird plush he found. It looked oddly familiar...

Y/N smiles and sits back down on the bed to brush aside Nero's bangs. "Alright. What story shall I tell?"

Nero snuggles up to his chin in his comforter, eyes shimmering with curiosity. He waits for his mother to begin.

"Ah! I know: how about the legend of the dancer and the dragon?" suggests Y/N.

Vergil pauses as he sets the bird down alongside a black cat on a shelf. His interest is also piqued. What fantasy is Y/N spinning now?

"In a land far, far away in a time long, long ago..." begins Y/N, twirling her hands.

'There they go again with that dramatic voice,' thinks Vergil. Still, he cannot deny how his lover never fails to spark wonder in their son's eyes. Only a few words in and she has Nero's full attention.

"...there was a dancer who could mesmerize entire palaces with every step. When they moved it was like watching petals on the breeze. The soft colors of their clothes twirling around their long legs. Stories spread across many kingdoms of not only their unrivaled skill but also that of their bewitching beauty. All that bore witness to their dance were charmed. It was like a magic spell only they could use," continues Y/N.

"Were they as pretty as you, Mama?" mews Nero, tilting his head in that way that always melted Y/N's heart.

Y/N reaches over to stroke their son's ivory hair, before opening her mouth to say---

"What a foolish question." Gliding over to the bed, Vergil sits opposite of Y/N. His eyes flicker to Y/N before he continues, "Do not compare a rose to a field of dandelions."

Nero seems satisfied with this answer.

Y/N gestures for Vergil to not interrupt before she adds, "So one day the dancer gets invited to the royal palace to perform. Afterwards, the King becomes so enthralled, he begs them to stay and marry one of his sons. The dancer politely refuses and leaves. This was not the answer the King had hoped for and so he hired a famous knight to find her and bring her back to the palace."

Rubbing his chin, Vergil wonders, 'Why does this sound oddly...familiar?'

"This knight always wore brilliant, scarlet armor, so the people called him the 'Crimson Knight'. Legends spoke of how he could slay any monster and of the sword he carried upon his back. It was a grand sword said to be enchanted with an ancient magic that allowed it to cut through even dragon hide," explained Y/N, waving her hands like she was trying to make the sword appear.

"He was a dragon slayer?" asks Nero curiously.

"No matter how tall or dangerous the monster may be, he was always victorious. While many claimed to have been witness to such a feat, no one knew for certain if he had slain a dragon. After all, dragons were the most powerful of foes. They were cunning, proud, and equipped with immense magic," answered Y/N.

"Could he beat a dragon?" questions Nero.

"He most certainly believed he could. After all, he was the Crimson Knight: the warrior of all the human kingdoms. Whenever a monster appeared, he was called in to defeat it," replied Y/N with a nod.

"Sounds like someone I know," grumbles Vergil.

"Shhhh."

"But here he was faced with a strange request: to hunt not a beast but a woman. A woman armed with only an aptitude for dancing. This was not a job for the Crimson Knight. The King---afraid he'd decline and she'd slip away---lied. He told the knight that the dancer was harboring a curse set upon her by a demon. That if she was not found and brought back to the palace to be purified, she would die. Now this resonated with the Crimson Knight. How could he let such a beauty wither and wilt from such misfortune? So he set off to find her," continued Y/N.

"How could he lie? She's not really cursed, is she?" asks Nero with a frown.

Vergil interrupts, "People lie because..." He clears his throat. "Sometimes they lie to get what they want."

"She's not really going to die, right?" whispers Nero.

Vergil glances at Y/N. "No, she won't."

Y/N nudges him with an elbow. "Shhh, no spoilers."

"So without even knowing she was being followed, the dancer hopped from town to town to perform. Rarely did she stay for more than a few days in the same area. Her heart was set on adventure and she enjoyed the journey even if it was tedious without a horse or carriage. She felt as free as the birds in the sky. With her spirits soaring, she set out for the neighboring city. However, along the well-trodden path, a man appeared. Whipping his cart into a frenzy, he was approaching fast. Spotting her, he jerked on the reins and nearly fell off the bench. 'Young lady! Young lady!' he gasped. 'Turn back now! Only death and hellfire awaits at the end of this road!' Stunned, the dancer asked him to explain. 'A dragon has appeared! He has built his den inside the ruins of the castle and he strikes down all who disturb him! The people are terrified! Protect yourself and run while you still can!' Then with a crack of the reins, his cart was disappearing down the road in a cloud of dust. The dancer stood there flabbergasted. How can there be a dragon of all things? Were they not creatures of myth? Not believing in the danger, she continued onwards despite the warning."

"No! Don't go! You'll get eaten!" gasps Nero, burrowing deeper into his comforter to hide.

Vergil snorts. "Depends on what you mean by 'eat' her."

Y/N shoots him a look. Luckily, she seems to be the only one to catch it. Nero is oblivious as he is too busy trying to blend in with his pillows.

"Anyway..."

"Our heroine reached the city and was hit by a startling revelation: it was quiet. Walking through the marketplace, she found stands of fruit abandoned and carts of goods unprotected. Where was all the hustle and bustle? Where were all the people? Further up the road, shutters rattled and there were hints of movement. The dancer wondered if she'd even be able to perform here if there was no one to be the audience. Then an idea stuck her: what if she could coax the people out with her talents? If not dancing, then maybe a lute or harp would soothe their spirits and rekindle the city's vigor. So she sought out the very reason she had come to this territory specifically: the grand theatre. There all kindred souls of music and art showcased their passions. She had hoped to connect with other performers here who were as dedicated to their craft as she was. Spotting the gold rooftop shimmering in the evening sun, she scurried towards it with a renewed excitement. Throwing the doors open, she gleefully announced her arrival."

"Only to be met with silence."

"How can a place of boisterous joy be silent? On hooks and shelves, all the instruments sat idle. Not a single string was singing. Even the tables were vacant with not even a crumb set out for the mice. 'What is going on?' she wondered. Still, she was even more determined now. Picking up a lute, she played a few notes. Testing its voice, she listened to the hearty tones and wondered how anyone could have put it down. Jumping into an energetic melody, she smiled to herself. This hall echoed the sound perfectly: each note complimented each other rather than drown in a sea of cacophony. Erasing the silence eased the chill that had settled in her chest. That is, until someone snatched the lute from her hands. 'Are you mad?!' hissed a man, 'You'll draw the beast right to us!' Confused, she asked him to explain. 'Music attracts him. If you keep playing, he'll come back!' She asked him if he was speaking of the dragon she heard about. 'Yes. He has settled into the castle on the hill. Both the castle and its lord perished many years ago. The city has never been quite the same since. Now this monster has taken over and the peace in our hearts have been shattered.' The man's words sowed worry in her heart. Yet, something struck her funny: if this dragon was so vicious, then why did it only attack, when he heard music? Did music have some kind of power over him?"

"Did the dragon not like music? Why?" Nero peeked around the edges of his blanket.

Y/N fixed her son's hair behind his ear. He was already nurturing the start of a bird's nest.

"The music made him remember..." Vergil's eyes were glossed over. Y/N could tell he was somewhere else. "Remembering was...painful for him."

Not expecting a co-narrator, Y/N waited to see if he would continue.

"See, the dragon was cursed: his memories stolen from him. Hearing a melody sometimes brought those memories back in bright flashes. Remembering what he had lost pained him more than the sharpest blade. Rather than endure his past, he silenced the melody any way he could. Even if it was...cruel," explained Vergil, his voice dry.

Was that a twinge of guilt Y/N could hear?

[Continued in Part 2...W.I.P.]

[jackson--t]

🎃 Spooktober 🎃

Bloody Boneless - Pt. I

Welcome to my favourite time of the year and my month of spooky stuff! I will create some short spooky stories - if you want to join me, feel free to tag me! 🎃

Summary: Heahmund talks about old sagas and legends in his classes - and tries one game out for himself at home. With a frightening result that makes his blood run cold...

Words: 2.6 k (AO3? Here.)

Spooky Friends (so far): @youbloodymadgenius @jadelynlace (if you want to be tagged, feel free to send me a DM or stuff!) 🖤

Heahmund looked around at his students and grinned a little; his bright eyes wandered over the curious eyes of the teens, who were all talking; some were already coming forward to share their ideas and stories.

It was October, and it wasn't long until Halloween; Heahmund had specifically chosen the last history lessons to get into a little spooky subject matter, about ghosts and folklore, about old tales and myths, and things you'd tell yourself if you wanted to scare someone. Outside, the rain pattered against the window, and the class had been decked out in autumnal red for several weeks, decorated with collected leaves and chestnuts. Heahmund grinned for a moment, then pointed to a student.

"Anna?"

"When I was a child, my mother told me that witches could be found in many bushes and along roadsides. We had a bush in our backyard back then, and it was so opaque that you could only ever make out black structures that looked so spooky..."

"And you must have been afraid of it?" Heahmund said, and Anna nodded.

"Who knows any more sagas? Does anyone maybe know games that involve old Halloween traditions?" Heahmund asked to the group, and several students came forward.

"Tim."

"My big sister once got a Ouija board with her friends on Halloween, and they... tried to call a dead friend through the board. They've never touched it since. She told me things moved around the room and the lights suddenly went out," Tim recounted; several girls in the room looked at each other aghast and began whispering excitedly, while Heahmund pressed his lower back against the desk.

"Stories like that scare you, of course, but it can also be fantasy. There are so many ancient legends and customs that, because of their history, already grasp the origins of fear. For example, the superstition that you should never look in the mirror at the stroke of midnight," he explained, and the teenagers fell silent; they looked at their history teacher intently.

"Why not?" Irina asked, and Heahmund grinned slightly.

"They say it makes you see your inner monster, or your inner witch. There are various games you can try in the dark, but they mostly play with your seventh sense, or simply your perception. The basic idea of fear plays a central role in this. Does anyone know of anything else?"

It took a moment, but then suddenly, quite hesitantly, a finger lifted from the back row; Heahmund's eyes met the shy Natalie, who always spoke very little, even though she had good grades. The others did not like her so much; however, to Heahmund she was a nice girl who was just a little quiet. He nodded to her with a smile; she looked around shyly, then said softly, "You told us once about the Vikings, and about their age. I know a saga about it."

Heahmund raised his eyebrows; he had always loved the subject of Vikings and didn't even know until now that there were customs here, too - or at least ghost stories that the young people told each other. "Really? Ah, very nice! Of course, when someone includes real history, it's always exciting. Tell us more, Nathalie!"

Nathalie hesitated for a moment; her fingers buried in her sweater.

"You told us about Ragnar Lothbrok and his sons back then. And I know a... legend. It says that at the stroke of midnight you are supposed to stand in front of the mirror, and if you... well, if you say Bloody Boneless three times, the Viking tyrant Ivar the Boneless will appear in the mirror."

Heahmund felt a slight chill run down his spine; he had gone over the subject very carefully with the students, and he was fascinated by how much had stuck with her; he looked at her for a moment, then asked, "Have you ever tried it?"

She shook her head vigorously. "No, I wouldn't do it either. The stories about him are too scary for me."

"With Bloody Mary, after all, the legend goes much the same way, except she pokes your eyes out. What do you think Ivar the Boneless does, Nathalie?" Heahmund said; the class watched intently as Nathalie bit her lower lip softly.

"They say that he... that he kills you. With an object he finds on you." she whispered; for a moment, icy chills ran through the class, and the abrupt ringing of the bell elicited a cry from some; Heahmund laughed.

"All's well, we'll see each other again on Wednesday. Until then, please read up on the customs about the Salem Witches' Night and do assignment 10 on it."

Heahmund waited until the class was completely empty; he smiled at the students, then scratched his chin lightly. Ghost stories, what nonsense. Of course, he knew none of these things were true; even though he loved seeing the shocked faces of the teenagers.

Bloody Boneless, what a nonsense....

 

§---§---§

 

It was late in the evening when Heahmund stood in front of the mirror in his bathroom; for a moment he looked at his dark hair, and then got his toothbrush ready. The clock on his shelf showed just before midnight; so, he still had some time.

Something on the back of his neck prickled as he brushed his teeth and walked slowly up and down the hallway; the rain was still casting gloomy shadowy shapes on the windows in his house, and the wind was clearly audible. If he wasn't mistaken, he had also heard a thunderstorm coming from a safe distance - a terribly cozy autumn night that he was about to end with a good book in his bed. Yet he still carried his student's words from today in his ear; that strange story about Ivar the Boneless.

Heahmund had devoted much of his studies to the Viking field, and it was still his favorite part of history. Perhaps he could joke with the children and pretend that the story about the mirror was true. He was sure that the teenagers - at least a couple of them - would not be able to sleep for nights if Heahmund continued Nathalie's story. He grunted softly in amusement before standing back in the bathroom and washing out his mouth.

When he lifted his head, the clock read 11:59 p.m., and Heahmund fixed his bright eyes on the mirror; his own reflection was staring back at him, albeit still with a somewhat wet beard. As the digital clock read midnight, Heahmund exhaled deeply. His hands clawed tightly into the porcelain of the basin, and he said softly in his deep voice:

"Bloody Boneless."

Once, and the rain whipped harder against the window; it was nothing unusual, for the storm had been predicted. Heahmund snorted softly; he felt a little crazy and silly, but he took another breath and said:

"Bloody Boneless."

Far away in the dark of the night there was a low rumbling; but the storm was still too far away for Heahmund to hear it clearly. Nothing happened; Heahmund grinned slightly at his own image in the mirror, and then quietly muttered a third:

"Bloody Boneless."

It happened all of a sudden; the lights in the bathroom began to flicker all at once, and with a ripping thunderclap, it abruptly went dark; just once, the light of the bathroom mirror still flickered on, causing Heahmund to let out a scream.

For a millisecond, the gruesomely contorted face of an angry young man had appeared in it, that undoubtedly belonged to Ivar the Boneless. But the lights came back on, and Heahmund stared perplexedly into the mirror; his hands trembled, and he wore white marks on his knuckles, so tightly had he clutched at the basin. When his bright eyes fell on the mirror again, he could see only his own face in it. No trace of that grimace.

Heahmund exhaled deeply and ran his hand over his forehead, shivering slightly; it was just as he himself had said in his lessons: the brain knew it was seeing something, and imagined it. The thunder had been a coincidence, of course, and had contributed to that brief anxiety -but it had been a horrible experience.

"Amazing, a brain like that.", Heahmund muttered to himself, slightly breathless, before turning off the bathroom light and turning towards the hallway. Just for a brief moment, for the fragile blink of an eye, he imagined that he saw a black, crooked shadow in the mirror that clearly could not belong to him. But it could just have been the shower curtain.

Heahmund hurried to get to the bedroom; the mirrors in the hallway suddenly didn't seem so trustworthy, especially since a bright flash additionally illuminated the hallway. Heahmund had never really been the fearful type; never. He didn't believe in ghosts and stories; he believed in the measurable reality of people. But this experience had given even him a deep goose bump on the back of his neck that he couldn't shake off. When he arrived in the bedroom, he closed the door behind him; the hallway was silent, however, as he took one last look inside before turning out the light there as well.

He had another mirror in the bedroom that he had a good view of; normally he loved it, especially for certain evenings; but now a strange feeling came over him. He looked at the mirror slightly critically, and yet decided against taking it down - he wasn't that anxious now. Everything was explainable, really everything. The blackout, the flickering, even his hallucination. There was nothing to worry about or be afraid of.

He turned on the small light on his nightstand and leaned back against the end of the bed; he covered himself lightly and began reading his book. He loved this atmosphere while reading; there was a storm outside, and he was inside with a book in a warm bed, and he didn't even have to get up early tomorrow, since he didn't have class until the last period. He enjoyed such evenings very much; only sometimes he felt lonely.

The house was only blanketed by the sound of rain and thunderstorms; however, as Heahmund was turning a page, his eyes caught something out of the corner of his eye. It was a dark movement, a quick, barely visible movement, but it shot up the back of Heahmund's neck so quickly and tinglingly that he could not have imagined it.

His gaze went up to the mirror; it was still standing there motionless, and nothing but the room was reflected in it; this weather was playing tricks on his eyes, he was sure of it. And those damn children's stories. He shouldn't have done that shit with the mirror.

Heahmund averted his eyes again; he continued to read in silence when suddenly he heard an unfamiliar noise - it sounded like something hitting the ground sharp and hard, like some kind of knife or axe; but it was almost too heavy for that. Heahmund raised his head and stared around the room, but he could see nothing; yet he could have sworn that this strange sound had come directly from his room. He wrinkled his nose slightly; the sound appeared again, only this time it was ten times louder. And it was almost as if a dark shadow was creeping out from under the doorframe....

Heahmund jumped out of bed. Maybe it was a burglar! He went towards the door, saw exactly the strange shadows on the wooden floor, which looked as if someone with crutch was standing in front of the door - his neck tingled wildly, and he suppressed the fantasy in his head - when with a sudden movement he tore open the door.

"Ha!" he cried; but there was no one in the hall. Heahmund stared open-mouthed into the hallway, and then at the floor - the shadow was gone. He took a deep breath in and out, as he closed the door behind him with a soft sound. He needed to calm down, his imagination was starting to run away with him. It was nothing more than a scary fairy tale that teenagers told each other at their Halloween parties.

When he turned around, however, his body suddenly froze.

He couldn't move an inch even if he wanted to; his muscles seemed frozen, frozen like an icy body in deepest winter. His mouth was slightly open, and yet neither words nor air came out to breathe; for his bright eyes fell on the mirror.

There, in jet-black leather armor, leaning on a pointed, metal crutch, stood a young man with the brightest, bluest eyes Heahmund had ever encountered. He simply stood there in the mirror, no one in front of it, staring motionless in Heahmund's direction; his dark hair was braided in Viking splendor, and his face revealed that he had been through a lot; a small but legendary scar adorned the young man's face.

It took a while for Heahmund's body to release its rigidity; he took a deep shocked breath, and stared in disbelief at the image in the mirror. It was as if frozen; the young Viking in it did not move a bit, but only stared stubbornly in Heahmund's direction. It looked like a statue; Heahmund dared to come a little closer and walked with slow steps towards the large mirror.

A flash of lightning lit up the room, and the rumble of thunder gave the whole thing an impossibly creepy atmosphere. Although Heahmund's body was wrapped in icy cold and thick goose bumps, he walked forward until he was standing right in front of the mirror; the young man was a little shorter than him and stood slightly bent over by his crutch. But he did not move, not even when Heahmund touched the cold pane of the mirror with a slight swallow.

"You're not real. This isn't real. I'm dreaming.", Heahmund muttered darkly; the mirror felt normal, and nothing moved except for the flashes in the background.

It had to be a bad joke. Maybe someone had traded his mirror for a TV? Maybe this was a show? Those damn kids...

Heahmund hissed softly as he looked around the room; but he could see no cameras in the corners, and no feet or anything behind the curtains. There was nothing there...

He turned his gaze back to the mirror; still the young man stood there, but his eyes had changed direction. They were staring Heahmund right in the face now, and Heahmund had to swallow hard against his own horrible fear. He took his fingers away from the cool glass, and stared at the Viking as well.

"You are not real, Ivar the Boneless," Heahmund said darkly.

And suddenly, with the bright light of a flash of lightning and the cruel, violent thunder of the thunderstorm close by, he moved; the face moved jerkily, and his jaw cracked slightly before bright white teeth showed, looking almost like sharp knives in the flash of the thunderstorm; the corners of the young man's mouth lifted, and the bright eyes stared at him like the devil's face made flesh.

„dauði, Kristr.“ A high-pitched, strangely soft, yet scratchy voice shattered the silence of the bedroom, mixed with cruel cracking sounds; and Heahmund froze to ice again.

He took a shaking step back, but his eyes caught perfectly how the pointed end of the crutch pressed against the mirror from inside, and a thousand shards suddenly pattered on the floor; and with a firm and sweeping pulling motion, Ivar the Boneless pulled himself out of the mirror, incarnate.

„dauði, Kristr.“ - "Die, Christian." (correct me if it's wrong!)

[fredweesleyismyslut]

Just a Kiss- Draco Malfoy x reader

A/N:  Hey guys!  It’s been a while school has been kicking my butt and from the stress I literally broke down and cried because one of my fake nails wasn’t coming off.  So, now just like the idiot I am, I am walking around with one fake nail(on my middle finger btw) and its bright pink but the rest of my nails are bare.  Enough about my breakdowns, this story is inspired by the kdrama “Playful Kiss” which is a show I used to watch when I was younger and started watching again from nostalgia.  Anyways, I hope you guys are okay and I hope you enjoy this one! 

The lights hanging around the school made your heart sing jingle bells as Christmas was right around the corner.  Students were bustling in the hallways, the constant chatter of people asking what the other was doing for Christmas.  The slight winter chill rose up your spine as you hugged yourself closer inside your coat.  You smiled as you saw your friends, standing near the common room opening.  Your best friend, Marissa, smiled softly as she hooked her arm into yours, “So, what are you doing for Christmas?” “Hmmmmm...I think we’re just spending it at home.  I can already smell the sweet hot chocolate with marshmallows.”  She chuckled, “Have you told Draco yet?” she asked.  Your heart skipped slightly at the mention of his name, skin flushing slightly, “No...I mean I just can’t.  I mean why would he like me?”  You had been crushing on Draco since first year and now you were in your sixth, and even after six years, you hadn’t found the courage to speak more than the simple utterances of a caveman to him.  You met him in first year when you were sitting in the library, reading a book for one of your classes.  He had come in and recognizing you from class had sat with you, asking if you could help him with something in class. After that first meeting, you met him a second time during a family dinner when Lucius Malfoy with his trophy family strolled in as your father introduced you to them.  Smiling to yourself of the memory you shook yourself from your thoughts as Marissa said, “Well, we only have one more year and then we’ll all go our separate ways.  Wouldn’t you at least want to try than never have done anything?”  You nodded as you responded, “I would like to never do anything then become a laughing stock.  I just want to spend the rest of the school year liking him from afar.”  Mariss shook her head softly, “Okay, chicken.”  Rolling your eyes softly you bumped her hip slightly, “Jerk.”  The two of you broke into giggles as you walked to your common room, ignoring the loud chatter from the crowds of students, you continued your conversation of what to do during Christmas. You were packing your items when you heard a slight pecking sound at your window.  The sound continued as you looked up, “Alright alright I’m opening the window, Frost.”  Your mother’s owl, a small winter owl which was fitting for the season, looked at you with her yellow orbs as she hopped into your room.  She cooed softly as you petted her before unwrapping the letter from her leg, “Thank you, Frost.  You can rest here for the night, I’m sure your tired, huh?”  She cooed again rubbing her head against your forearm as she pecked your hand softly as she looked for food.  Grabbing a small treat for her you sat back down near your suitcase, as you read the letter.  “My darling, I’m so sorry to say this but I have to cancel our evening plans for Christmas.  I’m needed to go on a trip for business but I’ll be back in the next week before break is over.  In the meantime, y/n, I want you to stay with Lucius and his family whilst I’m gone, they’ll take good care of you.  I’ll make sure to buy you gifts and treat you to dinner.  I love you, my sweet.  With love, dad.”  You reread the letter three more times before the words started to sink in and you felt the heaviness of the letter sink in.  Sinking your head into a nearby pillow you screamed into it, whether it was from excitement or mortification was unsure, but what you did know was that you’d be spending Christmas with Draco Malfoy and his family.  “This can’t be happening…” you muttered to yourself as Frost stared at you as if saying, “Get your shit together, you idiot.”  You laughed to yourself, looking in the mirror on your shelf, and said out loud, “Okay, y/n, it’s fine.  You’re just staying with a family friend and your long time crush just happens to live there.  You’re totally not living in a romance novel, so stop acting like the main character.”  

You finished packing before setting off to go find your best friend before you exploded with this newfound  information.  You were fast walking in the hallways, the sound of your footsteps resounding off the cold stone walls before you ran into someone’s chest.  Reaching for your head you looked up, “I’m so sorry.  Oh my god.”  You heard a soft chuckle as you looked at the person, as silver hair came into view and a pair of green eyes met yours.  “Draco…” slipped out of your mouth as your mind started to become garbled and you seemed to forget what the English language was.  He smiled down at you, “I hear we are going to be spending Christmas together.” he said finally, waving a letter in front of you, “My father says he’s prepared a room for you to stay in and wants me to guide you to where he’ll meet us at the station.”  Your mouth hanging open slightly, you gathered yourself, nodding at what he told you as you smiled, “Thank you.  It’s really nice of your family to let me intrude on your Christmas.”  “You’re not intruding.  It’ll be nice to have company besides the house elves… or at least that’s what my father says.”  You giggled softly as you nodded until you heard the soft clacking of feet behind you as you heard the familiar voice of your friend call your name out.  You were slightly disappointed that your conversation with Draco was cut short but you smiled at him.  “See you later?”  Draco nodded his reply as you walked off to go see your friend.  You were walking down the hallway and started to wonder if maybe your heart may have palpitated so much that you were having delusions because you couldn’t see your friend anywhere.  Suddenly, a hand pulled you into a corridor as you gasped out loud, getting ready to scream as your hands balled up into fists.  “Shhhhhhhhh don’t panic.”  Now, that’s not scary at all.  You thought as you as screamed, “That’s exactly the opposite of don’t panic, idiot.”  the voice said until you realized it sounded oddly familiar as you calmed down and turned your head slowly, attempting to catch your breath.  “Merlin’s balls, are you pretending to be batman now?  You almost gave me a heart attack.”  “Well, I did tell you not to panic,” she replied, giggling a little in response to you rolling your eyes.  “Why’d you pull me into this corner, Marissa?  It better be serious, I didn’t just almost die for something stupid.”  She punched your shoulder, “When am I ever doing something stupid?”  You crossed your arms softly, as you gave her a look, peeking through your lashes.  “Okay okay, but this is serious.  Why were you and Draco giggling over there?  Did you finally tell him?”  she asked, excitement bubbling through her whole body as she shook you.  “No, I didn’t tell him but I am spending Christmas with him.”  “Christmas?  With him?!”  she whisper shouted as if someone was listening.  “Yeah...my dad had business and said that Draco’s father agreed to let me spend the break with them.”  “Dear Godric, this is a sign.”  “A sign?  What are you Sherlock Holmes now?”  She rolled her eyes as she bumped your shoulder, “Oh, shut it.  I mean it’s a sign that you totally should ask him out.  I mean what’s more romantic than a white Christmas?”  she grabbed your shoulders, “During Christmas, you need to tell him after exchanging presents.  Okay, Watson.”  Chuckling you gave into her play, “Holmes, this is not a sign.  You know what’s more romantic than a white Christmas?”  Marissa shook her head softly, raising her eyebrows in response for you to continue, “Not getting rejected.”  She visibly sighed with her whole body, “My dear, lovely, wonderful friend, a great mind once said, ‘Have a little faith in yourself.’”  “Yeah, and who said that?”  Your friend did an exaggerated bow, “Me.”  “Okay, genius.  I’ll kindly decline your words of wisdom if that’s even what’d call it.”  She stuck her tongue out at you, “Well, either way, you need to write me during break and tell me if anything happens.  Okay?”  She took your arm and shook you side to side like a child begging for an extra candy bar, “Pleaseeeee, y/n.”  Pulling away you stuck your tongue out, “No, because nothing is happening.” as you quickly ran off down the hallway to escape her begging.  This was surely going to be an exciting Christmas.

[nocturnal-milk-dud]

Man Made of Stone: Chapter Seven

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Pairing: Horacio Carrillo x Reader

Summary: There’s nothing for you here.

Rating: R

Warnings/notes: swearing; alcohol consumption; inebriation; canon-typical violence; some smooches; no I will not be taking questions about Javier’s music collection at this time; how long do bullet wounds take to heal? don’t know don’t particularly care, also because I’ve lost track of time in the story. I can’t believe I’ve turned Javi into like such a den mother. I’ve looked at this too long, here have it. I’m also politely insisting that you listen to Haunt Me and The Safest Place because I listened to them on repeat while writing this chapter okay BYE

Word count: 2845

For the next two days, you threw yourself into work. Javier would get daily updates from Trujillo, but in terms of visitors nothing changed, and you couldn’t sit alone in Javier’s apartment for one more day. You still stayed there during the nights, the thought of sitting alone in your own apartment even less appealing. The two of you, tired of neck cricks and sore backs, finally caved and agreed to share the bed. You made sure to set up a wall of pillows, not trusting him or yourself. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t still think about it, but you’d return to the apartment so mentally and physically exhausted that it didn’t matter, and Javier was busier than ever. You often fell asleep before he came through the door. 

On one of those nights you were awakened by Javier flicking on the bedroom light and his hand rubbing your shoulder. 

“Hey,” Javier said as you mumbled groggily. “Hey, wake up.” 

“Javi, please,” you whined, rolling away from him. Javier circled the bed and snapped his fingers inches from your face, making you jump. You caught him by the wrist, glaring up at him. 

“Sleep,” you growled, “have you heard of it? It’s what I was just doing and you leave people alone while they’re doing it.” 

“Carrillo’s back in Medellín,” Javier said. “Can I have this back?” He unwrapped your fingers from his wrist and you sat up, stunned. 

“When?” you asked. 

“They transferred him today,” he said, sitting down next to you on the edge of the bed. “The Carlos Holguín School has an infirmary and they insisted he be moved.”  

“I don’t understand, why are we just hearing about this now?” you asked, squeezing the bridge of your nose. 

“Probably for the same reason they had him under lockdown at the hospital,” Javier said.

“I feel like you could’ve waited til the morning to tell me this,” you said after the two of you had been quiet for some time. Javier got up and headed for the hallway.

“Well, you were also on my pillow,” he said. He ducked just in time as you sent one sailing out the door after him. 

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

The next morning, dark clouds of smoke billowed into the sky and Javier veered off course, heading in their direction, the familiar sense of dread settling in his gut. He came upon a crew of firefighters and threw his car into park, jumping out from behind the wheel. Javier pushed his sunglasses up onto his head, squinting at the sight of your apartment, doused and blackened, but still smoking.

“Shit,” he whispered, trying to figure out if you would still be back at his place or already on your way to work. Javier made his way through the throng until he got to the captain, asking if anyone was inside. No one was, but they had found words scrawled on the wall of the stairwell: We’ll Find You. Javier got back in his car and sped off in the direction of his apartment. 

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

You were drying your hair when you heard the door to the apartment slam open. Javier rushed in, calling your name. You froze, the towel falling away from your hair, your stomach clenching. Why did he sound so worried? 

“Javi?” you asked, stepping out from the bathroom. He was standing in the living room, hands on his hips, chest moving rapidly with his breathing. Something had happened and you felt his anxiety spread to you.

“Fuck,” Javier hissed, going to the phone. 

“Javi, what is it?” His head snapped up and he dropped the phone back in the cradle as you came to meet him in the living room. Javier’s face relaxed and he let out a breath, releasing the tension in his shoulders. He slumped onto the arm of the couch, running his hand over his face, pinching the corners of his mouth.

“What’s going on, Javier?” you asked, the possible answers already sending chills through your body.

“Pablo’s men set fire to your apartment,” he said.

“Was anybody hurt?” you asked after a moment. Javier shook his head. You sat down on the couch, thinking about the letters tucked away in the desk in your room, the photo albums sitting on the bookshelf in your living room. Everything was gone. Your home was gone. Javier knelt on the floor in front of you, his eyes searching yours out.

“Listen, you know what this means right?” he asked. “You can’t go anywhere. They’re looking for you. They know where you live, that means they know where you work. You have to stay here.” You nodded halfheartedly.

“I get it,” you said. 

“We’ll get them,” he insisted. All you could do was nod. “Lay low, okay? I have to go, but I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Yeah, I got it.” When the door closed behind him you stood and paced the room, arms crossed over your chest. You came to a stop in front of the bottles of liquor lined up neatly along the wall and you picked one up, examining the label. Any whim you’d entertained of making the trip to Medellín was thrown out the window. Your home and everything in it was destroyed, your memories trampled on by the men actively trying to dismantle your present. But for a moment a bitter smirk flickered across your face. Pablo was angry because Carrillo was alive. You ground your teeth together, your grip tightening on the bottle, your chest heaving with ragged breaths. You chucked the bottle at the wall, satisfied in the sound of the glass smashing, and you stood there watching the liquor drip down to the floor. 

“Fuck,” you sighed, realizing what you’d just done.

 By the time Javier got home that night you were well and truly drunk, having delved deep into his liquor collection and his record collection. You’d shoved the coffee table out of the way, making room for a dancefloor. In one hand you had a glass and in the other an open bottle, and you were dancing to “Boogie Wonderland” when Javier walked through the door. 

“Earth Wind and Fire, Javi, I wouldn’t have guessed,” you said, “but I am grateful.” Your glass was empty so you set it down, deciding to simply drink from the bottle, and you gestured for him to join you. Javier walked over to you and let you slide his arm around your waist as you moved your hips, the fingers of his other hand curling around the bottle, coaxing it out of your grip. You thought it was so he could take a drink, but instead he walked into the kitchen with it, turning off the music as he went. 

“Excuse me,” you said, glaring at him from across the room.

“What is this?” Javier asked, looking in the trash can at the broken glass. You used the distraction to sneak over to the bar, slipping another bottle off the shelf. 

“That was an accident,” you said. “And to be fair, happened before I even started drinking, so…” You made a popping sound with your lips and unscrewed the cap. 

“Hey!” Javier snapped. He hopped down from the kitchen and was across the room in seconds, snatching the bottle out of your hand before it made it to your lips. He took your hand in his and led you over to the couch, pushing you onto it. “You stay right here.” After a few moments, Javier returned with a glass of water, handing it to you. You drank more than half the glass before he sat down next to you. You watched as he lit two cigarettes, accepting one. The two of you relaxed back against the couch, Javier putting his arm around your shoulders.

“I’m sorry about your home,” he said.

It didn’t take long for the exhaustion you’d been fighting to creep up on you, and the two of you shuffled off to bed. As you settled in, you threw aside the pillows that made up the wall between the two of you and snuggled into Javier’s side, his arms up and away from you in surprise. He lowered them slowly, his thumb gently stroking your shoulder. 

“Maybe I should just go home,” you whispered.   

You woke up late the next morning, sprawled out on your stomach. Javier’s side of the bed was empty, the sheets cool under your hand. You could hear voices coming from the living room and a few moments later the bedroom door opened. Javier walked in and sat down on the edge of the bed, placing his hand over yours, tilting his head to look at you.

“I’m heading out with Murphy, you good?” he asked. 

“My head feels like it weighs twenty pounds but other than that, yeah,” you said. The look of concern didn’t leave Javier’s face as he brushed your hair out of your eyes. 

“Can I tell you something Charlie said to me once?” he said. You sat up on your elbow, surprised to hear Javier mention your husband. 

“What?” you asked.

“He told me that if anything ever happened to him I needed to make sure you got out of Colombia,” Javier said. 

“You really gave it your best effort.” He let out a dry chuckle, but his eyes fell away from yours. 

“Go home,” Javier said, “there’s nothing for you here.” 

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

“I had a meeting today,” Charlie said, flopping onto the couch and resting his head in your lap.

“Oh yeah?” you asked, running your fingers through his hair. 

“Valeria Vélez,” he said. 

“Pablo’s personal reporter?” 

“She tried to tell me about all the good he’s done. That I’m spreading misinformation and lies. It was a veiled threat, nothing more. Say what they wanna hear, say nothing at all, or get shot.” You leaned down and kissed his forehead.

“Are you afraid?” you asked softly, and he let out a dry chuckle, grinning up at you.

“Would you think less of me if I said ‘yes’?” You shook your head, smiling down at him. Charlie sat up then, taking your hands in his. His expression had changed, his forehead creasing with worry, teeth biting at the inside of his cheek. 

“If anything happens to me--” 

“I told you to never say that to me,” you said. 

“No, listen,” Charlie said, his voice stern, “if anything happens to me--”

“It happens to me, too,” you said.

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

“Were you going to tell me to leave?” you wondered aloud. You imagined him sitting at a dimly lit table in a bar with Javier, saying those same words, asking his friend to make sure you got out of Colombia safely. Why had it taken Javier this long to attempt to make good on his promise? You were still in bed, staring up at the ceiling. The thought of leaving had been nagging at you since the night the four of you had rushed Carrillo to the hospital. It was just a small whisper then, but Javier’s words opened up a floodgate. What happiness were you going to find if you stayed? Even if you and Carrillo ended up together, you’d be living every day with the anxiety that accompanied his absence. You would flinch every time the phone rang. What happiness was to be found when both of your lives were constantly in danger? Your home had been burned down and you were holed up in Javier’s apartment. What kind of life was that? The thoughts kept adding up, one after the other, like bricks being laid, until a wall was built in your mind, a wall separating you from Colombia, from Carrillo. 

Everything you were taking with you fit in one backpack with room to spare. While Javier was gone for the day, you cleaned the apartment top to bottom, not wanting to think. It got to the point where you were washing dishes that were already clean and folding clothes that were already folded. Anything to keep your mind off the fact that you were leaving Colombia the next day. You were in the bedroom when you heard the door open.

“Hey Javi,” you called, “you can give me a ride to the airport tomorrow, right?” When he didn’t respond, you stepped out into the hallway. “Javi?” Your heart fluttered in your chest and you paused. Javier had been a problem for Escobar a lot longer than you. What happened when they found out where he lived? You swallowed, your mouth suddenly dry. You looked down at your feet, willing them to move, and when you looked up again you saw him, standing in the living room. Yes, he was standing there on his own two feet. You curled your fingers, brushing them against the palm of your hand, wanting more than anything to touch him, prove to yourself that he was real. 

“You’re leaving,” Carrillo said. You glanced over at the backpack sitting by the couch and managed a stiff nod. Carrillo started to cross the living room and you noticed then his limp. It broke you out of your stupor and you hurried over to him, putting your arm around his waist. It had become instinctual. Carrillo smiled softly at you and pushed your hair back from your face, his thumb caressing your cheek.

“I’m okay,” he said. Despite not needing your help, Carrillo kept you there, his hand around your arm, his warm brown eyes holding yours. You could stay there forever. You wanted to stay there forever. He leaned in to kiss you and you panicked, pulling away. 

“You should sit, relax,” you said, already stepping up to the kitchen. “I’ll get you some water. Javi should be back soon.” You looked at your watch, knowing that was a lie. 

“I’m not here for Peña, he’s the one who told me where you were. How do you think I got in?” Carrillo said, easing himself onto a couch. You could feel his eyes on you from across the room. You took a moment, hunched over at the sink, just letting the water run. You’d thought about this moment, dreamed about it, but now you had to distance yourself and you didn’t know if you could do it. Going home was the right thing to do. Separating yourself from Colombia, from Carrillo, it was the right thing to do. You held tight to that and shut off the water, returning to the living room with a glass. You set it down in front of him on the coffee table, prepared to take a seat on the other couch, but Carrillo caught you by the wrist. Lifting your eyes, you found his face mere inches from yours and he tugged you gently toward the couch. You knelt next to him and he placed your hand on his chest, as if to remind you that his heart was beating. He wrapped his arm around your waist, keeping you there.

“I heard about your apartment, I’m glad you’re okay,” Carrillo said. “Is that why you’re leaving?” 

“It’s part of it,” you admitted. “They want me dead. They want you dead, and they almost succeeded, and eventually…” How could you say it? How could you get those words out? You hung your head, the words piling up in your throat. “How can we be happy?” Carrillo’s hand left yours and you felt his fingers under your chin, coaxing your head up.

“We create it,” he said, his voice gentle but determined, “we insist on it, or they win without even having to kill us.” Carrillo leaned in close to you, curling his fingers around your neck to pull you in for a kiss. Your heart swelled in your chest at the feeling of his lips on yours, at his closeness, at his warmth.

“Stay,” he whispered, having pulled back just enough to speak.

“I have to go,”  you said, feeling on the verge of tears. He was going to make this impossible. Carrillo swept you up onto his lap, pressing your body tightly against his. He didn’t kiss you immediately like you expected. Instead, Carrillo tucked his head beneath your chin and simply held you. You rested your cheek on top of his head, your eyes pricking with tears. Your hand moved with the rise and fall of Carrillo’s chest, his breath tickling your skin. He was alive. You curled your fingers in his hair, coaxing his head back, and kissed him. Slow and languid movements, but it didn’t take long for desperation to guide your actions. Close wasn’t close enough. You curled your fingers, clawing into his chest as Carrillo’s kisses turned into a trail of bites down your neck. You whimpered his name and he leaned back, brushing your hair away from your face, gathering it up in his fist at the nape of your neck. Carrillo’s gaze held yours, his eyes hungry.

“Say it again,” he said.

“Horacio.”

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[ohayohimawari]

And Then They had a Guest

A drabble for Day 3 of @kakaobiweek Yellow | Animals | Domestic

Some cracky humor and feels, with a dash of implied Kagumo (Kaguya/Sakumo), appropriate for teen-and-up readers. I hope that you enjoy reading it!

And Then They had a Guest

Kakashi’s least favorite topics of conversation were those that had anything to do with himself, and as such, much of his life remained shrouded in mystery. Obito didn’t mind, though. He’d spent his childhood alongside Kakashi, and therefore, knew more about the man than most.

There was also the whole missing-and-assumed-dead thing that allowed Obito the ability to snoop on Kakashi for years, never mind the fact that they shared vision. In that time, Kakashi regularly visited three graves; his father’s, Rin’s, and Obito’s.

That should’ve been Obito’s first hint.

“What?” Obito spluttered when Kakashi returned from work to their shared home with the most unexpected news since Sasuke declared that he wanted to be Hokage.

“I told you it was today,” Kakashi replied, surprised to find Obito and their house in the same state of disarray as they were when he left that morning.

“Um, no. I think I’d remember if you told me,” Obito replied from where he sat, swaddled in a snuggie on the couch, elbow-deep in a bag of chips, and excited for the first day of the fall season in his simulated farming video game.

“I put the letter up on the fridge.”

“That doesn’t count as telling me, Bakashi!” Obito shrieked. “Call and postpone it to tomorrow!”

“Ah, I can’t do that,” Kakashi removed the heavy Hokage hat from his head and scratched at his cowlicks, “the reception out there isn’t that great, so the calls drop.”

“How long until she gets here?” Obito focused on the most immediate problem, mentally filing away the multitude of other questions he had for later.

“Within the hour, probably.”

“Why now?” Obito practically whimpered.

“I guess that being promoted to Hokage and moving in with my war criminal boyfriend warrants a visit from my mother.”

Obito activated his Sharingan so he could move that much quicker. He shut off his game before remembering to save his progress, and jumped to his feet, showering chip crumbs all over the floor. “Help me!” He shouted the obvious.

“I will, as soon as, y’know, it’s that time of day for me.” Kakashi pulled the unflattering Hokage robe off of his body and shivered from the sudden chill that overtook him in its absence. Then he grabbed a magazine and closed himself in the bathroom for what Obito knew from experience would be a solid twenty minutes.

Obito’s heart raced as he looked at the mess around him, and then down at the mess that was himself, as he realized that his lover abandoned him to deal with it all alone.

Then, his feet finally began to move, and Obito rolled up his snuggie sleeves as he frantically searched every room for exactly the things that he’d never want Kakashi’s mother to find. It didn’t take him long, they’d ‘Christened’ nearly every room in their home, and Obito knew all the hiding places for the necessities. At least he thought he did.

“Hey, Kakashi? Where did you stash the lube in the dining room?”

“We haven’t done it in there yet,” the bathroom door muffled Kakashi’s reply.

“Okay, cool, then I think I got them all,” Obito hurried to their bedroom with his hands full, intent on addressing the next catastrophe on his to-do list.

He tugged his snuggie up over his head and let it fall to the floor. He caught sight of his reflection and panicked anew. The shower was inaccessible, so Obito bathed in cologne before he donned trousers and a shirt with the least wrinkles, not caring if they matched. He returned to the mirror and used one hand to smooth his spiky hair into submission, while he ran the other over the wayward whiskers that had grown wild on his chin in the last five days without shaving.

Obito zipped down the hall that led to the bathroom. “Hey, Kakashi?”

“Obito, can we please talk when I’m done? I can’t exactly do my thing in here when I know you’re outside the door.”

“I need my razor.”

Even the bathroom door couldn’t silence Kakashi’s exasperated sigh. “Use my electric one; it’s in the travel kit on the closet shelf.”

“Okay, fine, just clean up in there when you’re done, and don’t forget to light the candle this time,” Obito rushed back to their bedroom.

He emerged again with the electric razor buzzing in his hand and his Sharingan eye swirling. He did his best to remove his budding beard without a mirror while uttering, “Kamui!” until the entire mess in their home was teleported to a dimension that only he and Kakashi could access.

Then, three things happened at once.

The toilet flushed, the razor’s battery ran out halfway through its job, and someone knocked at the door.

Obito froze like a deer in headlights, terrified to say or do anything.

Kakashi strode past him with the scent of manufactured clean linen wafting in his wake and reached their door in time for the third round of knocking.

“Don’t open it!” Obito hissed a desperate, whispered plea. “This can’t be your mother’s first impression of me,” he gestured to his half-beard, feeling like a whole hot mess.

Kakashi awkwardly cleared his throat. “You don’t have to worry about that, because, uh, I mean, as it happens, you two have already met.”

Obito gaped in astonished horror as Kakashi opened their door, revealing Kaguya on the other side of it.

“I’m surprised you knocked,” he greeted her.

Obito screeched and flung himself into the privacy of his and Kakashi’s mutual Kamui dimension, where he could freak out in his own mess without witnesses.

“What the hell?” He whispered even though he was alone, but he quickly chuckled when he realized his half-beard was no longer the oddest part of the evening.

Laughter was the bridge to calm and acceptance, the latter being of the utmost importance. There was a lot about Obito that Kakashi accepted without question, or doubt, and he deserved the same in return. Besides, as impossible as it may seem that Kaguya could be Kakashi’s mother, it made a helluva lot of sense, too.

And it wasn’t the only seemingly impossible and loving relationship in their lives.

Obito drew in a bracing breath and prepared to warp back to the chaos that waited for him in the nest he’d made with Kakashi when Kakashi suddenly appeared in front of him, with a mirror and Obito’s razor.

“I’m sorry; I should’ve prepared you for this,” he muttered, thoroughly apologetic.

“I’m not sure you could’ve even if you tried,” Obito brought one hand up and rubbed Kakashi’s arm.

“I didn’t even know myself, until recently,” Kakashi confessed. “I have a lot of questions for her, and I need you at my side when she answers them. So, please, will you come back?”

It struck Obito then that the person who was most nervous about a visit from Kakashi’s mother was Kakashi, and Obito would do anything for the man that stood by him, even in death.

“Of course, I will,” Obito reassured him immediately, “and I would do so much more for you, Bakashi.” He closed the gap between them to kiss the man with whom he shared a home, a dimension, and a lifetime.

[dracothedeatheatingcupcake-ao3]

Chapter 6 The Problem with Perfection spoilers!!

Hey all!! So, people asked to see the part of the chapter where Mondo was, uh... rude, so I figured I’d post it, since it’s already written. And it’s gonna be a while ‘til the companion piece (which is titled “The Problem with Mondo,” ha) is released, but there are no real spoilers in this section, and the one spoiler there is, I cut out. 

The section is below the cut! It’s about 5,000 words, starting right after Mondo leaves the store to find Taka. There will be some things that don’t make sense, since the context was written in earlier chapters of the companion piece, or ins later chapters of The Problem with Perfection (TPWP) so beware of that, ha. Also, since Mondo is far more foul mouth than Taka, there’s a TON of curses in this section, ha. I don’t curse in everyday life, like... at all. Not even when upset. So it may not be super natural, but I did my best. 

I will also say there is a warning for internalized biphobia in this segment, so beware that. And, of course, the use of the same slur in the TPWP chapter.

I hope this explains things!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Quieter than anyone would ever give him credit for, Mondo slips out of the computer store and into the chill late September air. He doesn’t even feel the cold as he looks around, trying to see if he can find Ishimaru hanging around the area, perhaps still crying or some shit. When he doesn’t see him, Mondo turns to the general store across the way, hoping the kid did what he said and went there, and that he didn’t just say ‘fuck it’ and returned to the school. Shit. He truly hopes he didn’t do that. It would make it worse if he decided to leave their class outing just because Mondo was a fucking idiot. Goddamn. 

 The general store looks exactly the same as every other general store Mondo has ever been in, and with his advanced height, he’s easily able to look over the top of the shelves, his eyes scanning for a very, very familiar frame. 

 It takes him only a few seconds before he spots him. 

 Fuck, he looks sad... he thinks to himself, gut roiling. The kid is staring blankly at the shelves, face fucking despondent as shit, and Mondo doesn’t think he’s seen anything that looked so fucking sad before. It makes him want to rush over to the kid, wrap his arms around him, and tell him it’s going to be okay, but it’s a stupid fucking desire so he firmly pushes it away. Besides. It’s not like Ishimaru would appreciate it. 

 Mondo gives himself a single moment to stare, trying his best to calm his fucked-up stomach, before walking over to the kid, silent as a mouse. He has no idea what he’s going to say, his head too fucking scrambled to even begin thinking of that shit, but it doesn’t matter. He’s mostly here so Ishimaru can get his revenge and feel better already, shit. It would prolly be better if he said something super fucking stupid, to get that fiery hatred to rise in those fucking gorgeous eyes of his. 

 He knows the second Ishimaru notices his presence behind him. The kid had actually been kind of loose before, even if sorrow and resignation clung to him like a blanket. But the instant Mondo gets close, the kid goes so fucking stiff and rigid it ain’t funny, looking like a statue again. Or glass. Fragile fucking glass...

 Knowing he has to say something, Mondo takes a deep breath and just fucking... goes for it.

 No time like the present...

 “Hey, uh, look, Ishimaru-” Mondo starts, feeling so fucking awkward, but he doesn’t have the ability to say anymore before Ishimaru abruptly cuts him off, eyes blazing as he fucking glares. Not at him, at the display, but shit, it’s still so fucking impressive. God, but if he ain’t so fucking beautiful alive when he glares... 

 “Look, Owada-kun, I am not in the mood, so if you have any decency in you whatsoever, you will kindly leave me alone!” Ishimaru hisses, eyes like lasers as they glare at the dried ramen on the shelf. If it were possible to set things on fire with a glare alone, those noodles would be toast, he thinks humorlessly. Shit… but damn, he truly fucked up, didn’t he… shit.

 Silence falls between them, then, and he sees Ishimaru move on from the ramen, looking so tense and upset Mondo aches with sympathy. And he... fuck, he really should just do as the kid said, just leave him the fuck alone and let him pick himself back up, but he... he just can’t. He still hasn’t apologized, hasn’t let Ishimaru tear him a new one, and he... he just can’t leave now. Not when Ishimaru still looks so fucking sad. 

 So, Mondo just trails after the boy like a ghost, feeling so fucking awkward, but not really knowing what to say. He can see tears shining in the boy’s eyes and it makes him feel like absolute shit. It might be better to just leave him alone, but fuck if he doesn’t fucking wanna do that. He has no idea why he cares so fucking much about this fucking kid, but... but he just does, goddamn. 

 Finally, after a few awkward minutes have passed, Mondo decides to say ‘fuck it’ again and just... goes for it. Allowing his voice to sound softer and kinder than it ever has sounded before, his face open and honest should the kid decide to look at him, he speaks, hoping that Ishimaru doesn’t think he’s making fun of him, god...

 “You really mean it when you say you’re not rich, don’t you?” 

 He doesn’t quite know why he says that, of all things, but he doesn’t regret it. Not even when Ishimaru freezes, eyes wide and watery as they look at the styrofoam cups he’s for some reason staring at. He even lets himself speak properly for once, the way his bro taught him, before he then taught him to speak improperly to piss off the authority. He knows his words can be taken in a negative way, knows that it could sound like he’s making fun of the kid, but he... he hopes that Ishimaru can tell he’s being serious, for once. And if he can’t, and he decides to get blindingly angry at Mondo, well... ain’t like he doesn’t fucking deserve it, shit. 

 When Ishimaru looks up at him, eyes blazing, mouth open to prolly tell him to ‘leave me the fuck alone’ (or, you know, without the curse since the kid is so fucking innocent he refuses to curse ever, shit), Mondo thinks that the second option is more likely to happen here. And while he kind of fucking hates it, he doesn’t blame the kid. It makes him feel uncomfortable to have his face be so open and vulnerable when faced with such anger, especially since he never lets his face look like this, god, but he fights to keep it like that. He wants Ishimaru to knows he’s being serious, for once. 

 It’s what the boy is fucking owed. 

 And then... to his complete and utter surprise... 

 Ishimaru relaxes. His shoulders lose that angry tilt to them, his face stops looking so pinched, and his eyebrows stop being so furrowed they might as well be a unibrow. He turns back to look at the cups, still looking sad and upset, but he... he doesn’t look angry. 

 S-shit...  

 Several seconds pass in awkward fucking silence, Mondo thinking the kid will just continue to ignore him until he finally is forced to awkwardly shuffle off, feeling worse than he ever has before, when...

 “No, Owada-kun. I am not. Not even close. You... you told me, last week, that I could never understand what it’s like to go to bed hungry. You couldn’t have been more wrong. I often did, my father unable to pay off our debts and feed us at the same time. I often wondered if I’d waste away from lack of nutrition, like the starvation victims I’d see in my textbooks. My... m-my mother, she... she died, because we could not afford her cancer treatment. I... I am not rich, Owada-kun. And it is highly unlikely that I ever will be. No matter what lies I may tell myself to get through the day…” 

 Holy. Fucking. Shit. 

 Holy shit!

 He... he never would have expected that from the kid. And he’s not even just talking about the words themselves, though fuck is that sad. His ma really died because they couldn’t fucking afford treatment...? Shit, he thought shit like that only happened in backwards countries, like America or something, god fucking damn. 

 But it’s not just that that has him so fucking shocked, looking at the kid as he stares at the cups, mouth pulled down in the saddest fucking grimace he’s ever fucking seen. No... it’s the fact that Ishimaru told him this, of all people. Why... why would he trust him like this? After all he’s done, all he’s said... why would Ishimaru trust him to not be a fucking douchebag, like he always is? Why would Ishimaru trust him at all, when he’s done absolutely nothing to earn that trust? G-god... s-shit... it’s almost too much for him, and part of him wants to run away. To flee this moment and never have to deal with Ishimaru’s stupid ass trust. He...

 He doesn’t deserve it...

 But...

 But Mondo still hasn’t apologized. 

 And if Ishimaru isn’t inclined to tear him a new one, and is instead giving him a chance to make things right, then... 

 Then he can’t fucking ruin this golden chance. 

 And so, he... he decides to show how sorry he is by showing Ishimaru the same trust that the boy just showed him. 

 It’s what the kid is owed. 

 Even if it does make his skin fucking crawl... 

 “Wow, that uh... that really fuckin’ sucks, man. I mean... freakin’. But I, uh... I get it, ya know? It uh... it was the same, for me. Well, not exactly the same, but... s-see, my folks they, uh... they weren’t exactly the best, heh. Da didn’t exactly hang ‘round long, and ma died not too long after. I barely even remember ‘em, ta be perfectly honest. Just a blur of angry faces and drunken words. My older brother, Daiya, he uh… he raised me. Took care a’ me. We never had much, but as long as I had him, I was good, ya know? But... but I still hated it. Bein’ so poor. Never havin’ even a fraction a’ the things the kids at my run down schools had. I remember gettin’ so angry whenever I’d see one a’ my classmates totin’ ‘round some new gizmo or whatever, not even realizin’ just what I’d give ta have something even half as nice. I... I was always so angry, back then. Still am, heh… ‘specially here, at this school... it... I dunno. S’hard. And you… ya just... I dunno. Ya remind me a’ them. The kids I knew. The ones I hated...”

 Mondo pauses here for a second, before he looks up at Ishimaru and chuckles softly. 

 “But I get now that y’ain’t like ‘em, are ya? You... ya get it. What it’s like. Ta have fricken nothing’ while wantin’ everythin’. Ya know, ya… ya remind me a’ my bro a bit, heh. My bro, he, uh… he started my gang, ya know. Built it up from scratch. From nothin’. Always had big plans, Daiya did. An’ I don’t expect ya ta understand, but it’s all I got left a’ him now. He... yeah. Maybe I don’t like the violence as much as I prolly should, but I can’t just quit. I owe it ta Daiya ta keep the gang runnin’, keep us together. Honor his memory. Or somethin’ like that… shit. Uh, I mean… shoot. But, uh… my point is, while I may be a biker, I ain’t a complete a-hole, ya know? I do got some limits. An’ I shouldn’t a’ said what I did ta ya. Yer right, it’s uh... distasteful, ta talk ‘bout things like that, ‘specially in front a’ other people. I don’t expect ya ta accept it, but I am sorry. Genuinely. It was shitty a’ me ta do that, and if ya wanna hit me or somethin’, I won’t stop ya. I prolly deserve it.” 

 Mondo stops his rambling words abruptly then, his hands twitching at his sides. He feels so fucking exposed right now, everything in him feeling so wrong and vulnerable. He hadn’t told the complete truth, either, downplaying the way his da and ma really fucked him up, but he’d been more truthful than he’s ever fucking been. He’d even done his best to mind his language, knowing Ishimaru hates it when he curses. And while normally he wouldn’t care, he just... he wanted his apology to be genuine, fuck. Ishimaru still isn’t looking at him and he feels so uncomfortable it’s not fucking funny, but he fights hard to not storm away like he always does when uncomfortable. 

 It’s so fucking hard, but his restraint is proven to be worth it when Ishimaru turns to face him, a small, wry smile on his lips, his eyes... his eyes full of life for the first time that day, holy shit... and what he says...

 “I thought you said that no one deserves to be hit, Owada-kun? Or does that not apply to yourself?” 

 Mondo cannot help how he blinks at Ishimaru with shock, mind blanking as he hears the kid fucking... fucking tease him, holy shit! He didn’t know the kid even had a sense of humor, but he’d clearly meant the words as a joke, since he’s smiling softly, fucking eyes dancing with a silent mirth. 

 As he gets over the shock at Ishimaru saying a fucking joke, he finds himself smiling. It’s small at first but grows more and more as he gets used to the idea of Ishimaru joking around with him, realizing he... he actually really fucking likes it. The kid smiling at him, for once, speaking to him almost like they’re friends or something. It... fuck, he has no idea how to describe the way it makes him feel inside, god. 

 Letting out a soft, relieved laugh, he feels so fucking glad that he didn’t mess this whole thing up. To try and let out the strange buoyancy he feels inside, he playfully shoves Ishimaru, not wanting to hurt him, but just wanting... to be playful and easy, to keep going with the unusual lightness their conversation suddenly has. He... god, it feels so weird, but also so... so nice, acting like this with Ishimaru... f-fuck... 

 “Aw, shut the hell up, ya nerd! I said no one deserves ta be beat, not hit. There’s a difference, idiot. Now come on. Hit me. I know ya wanna, ya goddamn goody-two shoes. Y’ain’t gonna get another chance like this, I promise ya that!” Mondo says, grinning like an idiot. He can’t help how he’s looking at Ishimaru, marveling at how nice the kid looks when he’s genuinely smiling. It... it’s making him feel so weird inside, and he knows his eyes are too soft, betraying everything he feels inside, but maybe it’s not so bad... not when Ishimaru is looking at him like that, g-god... like he’s not a fucking monster... like he might... might be...

 Someone amazing... 

 He watches, heart pounding strangely, as Ishimaru curls his hand into a loose fist, looking like he’s never thrown a punch before, god. And then, weak as a fucking kitten, the kid, he... he fucking taps Mondo so lightly on his chest that if he weren’t watching it, he wouldn’t have thought the kid had touched him at all. It’s so fucking endearing, Jesus fucking Christ... 

 Mondo has no idea what is going on inside him at that moment, his insides feeling so fucking weird and squirming. It... it’s almost like fucking butterflies, but he knows it ain’t, he’s not fucking gay, shit. But... but god, it feels so nice... Ishimaru smiling at him feels- feels so nice... 

 Unable to help himself, he lets out the laugh that wants to escape, loud and boisterous, like he always does when genuinely happy. F-fuck... he’s not laughed like this in ages... unrestrained like this, loud and just... happy. So fucking happy. 

 Ishimaru... Ishimaru makes him feel so goddamn happy...

 What the fuck…

 Before he can stop himself, he feels his hand dart out and grab Ishimaru’s hand— which is still hovering over around his chest— and just... shit. Holds it close to him, pressing it right over his fucking heart. He doesn’t know why he does it, he just knows that it feels... natural or something. And the feel of Ishimaru’s hand under his, the flesh warm and smooth under his rough palm, the fingers curled so wondrously under his, it makes him feel- f-feel... shit, he doesn’t even know, he doesn’t know, and he... he doesn’t know what the fuck to do, holy shit. 

 The kid is staring at him with wide eyes, his cheeks the most beautiful shade of pink he’s ever seen, and his lips are partially open, his breathing shallow and uneven. Something about the look is making his head go all stupid, his brain full of static and cotton, his chest aching but not in a bad way, and it makes him want... w-want to... 

 “Man, Ishimaru-san, you, uh... you sure are somethin’ else, ain’t ya,” he says softly, softer than he’s ever heard himself sound before. His lips are curled in a small smile, and everything in him is feeling so, so weird. He can feel himself drifting closer and closer to the kid, not knowing why he’s doing it, why he wants to do it, but fuck, he can’t make himself stop. He feels so warm inside, warmer than he’s ever felt before, and his brain isn’t working, and he... he wants... he wants...

 His eyes dart down to Ishimaru’s lips then, unbidden. They’re partially open, allowing Mondo to see a hint of a pink tongue sitting innocently passed the bitten lips, and it makes his gut lurch, heat blooming within him. H-holy shit... what the... t-the fuck...?

 What would his lips feel like against your own? he hears a voice whisper inside him, making his breath hitch, and he knows he should push it away, should shut it the fuck up, but... b-but...

 They look so fucking rough and warm, don’t they... bet they would feel so fucking nice, the kid pressing his body so firmly to you, hands in your hair... he’s always so fucking passionate, he’d prolly be a passionate kisser... maybe he’d even bite your lips to all hell, like he bites his own... and maybe then you can bite his, finally fucking feel those pale lips you’ve been dreaming about for so fucking long under your teeth, listening to the little noises that kid will prolly make, feeling so fucking much, fuck, Ishimaru is so fucking much and fuck is it so fucking hot- 

 Mondo gets cruelly jolted from the horrible fucking thoughts, holy shit when he feels Ishimaru jerk away from him, his eyes so wide and fucking horrified it’s not fucking funny. It takes him a second to realize what the fuck is going on, what had just fucking happened, but when he does, he... he...

 Holy. God. Damn. SHIT.

 Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit-!

 What the goddamn fuck had he just- just done... what the goddamn fuck had he just thought?! H-he... he isn’t... he doesn’t... h-he doesn’t want to fucking kis- fuck! No! No, no, no! Nononononononononononono!!!!! 

 He’s not- fuck! He doesn’t think of- of dudes like that, h-he doesn’t- and yeah, maybe he’s had a couple dreams of Ishimaru and his- his eyes and his- h-his li- but it means nothing! Nothing, nothing, nothing! Y-you can’t fucking control what you dream about, so it means fucking nothing! Nothing nothing nothing!

 As he looks at Ishimaru, the kid looking so fucking horrified, looking at Mondo with fucking disgust, Mondo knows he- he has to fix this, has to- has to make sure that fucking little freak doesn’t think he- fuck, it had to have been him! H-he was the one who- who had been drifting closer, who had gotten so close to him, who had almost- almost fucking kissed him, it wasn’t his fucking fault! I-it wasn’t- it wasn’t-! 

 “What the fuck... w-what the hell did ya... what did ya do ta me, ya fuckin’ freak?! What are ya, some kinda goddamn fairy?! Get the hell away from me, you f*g!” 

 Mondo can hear the horrified gasp the hall monitor lets out, the boy taking a step back as anger and hatred rise in his eyes. G-good... f-fucking good. H-he hates using that word, always beats the shit out of the sons of bitches who use fucking slurs like that, but he- he had to make sure Ishimaru knew- k-knew that he- he’s not... h-he’s not-

 Ishimaru is glaring at him again, so far from the soft and open look from a moment before it stupidly makes him want to fucking cry, but he can’t do that, doesn’t do that, he just- just glares right on back and hopes that Ishimaru doesn’t see the way he’s shaking, his entire body and mind so fucking confused. Because he- he has no idea where the fuck that came from, why he- he had felt like that, why he had thought that, why he... why he wanted-

 But no. He hadn’t. Hadn’t wanted, hadn’t wanted, hadn’t wanted at all. Ishimaru must have- have done something to him, fucking drugged him or something, it’s the only fucking explanation, holy fucking shit-

 “I- I... you! I did nothing! I-it was you who... and how dare you, use such a word?! I’m not- not... that, but that gives you no right to use such language! You are lucky we are not on school grounds, or else I would give you detention for the rest of the year for using such a vile word! I- I have never been so disgusted before in my life! Y-you... you...” 

 Mondo feels a spike of absolute pain stab him then, making him want to gasp, but he can’t, can’t show weakness, oh god, so he just glares, letting all the anger and hatred he feels come to the surface as he glares daggers into Ishimaru. He masks the pain and the confusion and he just glares. 

 He listens as the kid trails off, as his eyes get shiny again, his lips (oh god, his lips) pulled down in the harshest grimace he’s ever seen, but he can’t let it sway him, oh god. After a moment of tense fucking silence, he hears the kid fucking sob, tears bright in his eyes, before he turns tail and fucking bolts. He strides away so quickly he might as well be running, and as soon as he reaches the door, Mondo sees through the window as he actually runs. He’s fast as a fucking bullet, like a fucking marathon runner, but Mondo can’t focus on that, fuck, he just can’t-

 Mondo is stuck in place, his body fucking frozen in space, no idea what to do, until he sees the owner of the store storming over to him, looking pissed. Putting on his most menacing, ‘don’t you fucking even look at me’ glare, he only has to look at the old man once to make that fucking coward’s eyes widen and make him back off. Seeing as how he’s prolly gonna head to the phone to call the cops, which would just make his fucking day so much better, he decides to just fucking bail. He- he doesn’t want to be here anymore anyway, he just- just wants to be away, god-

 He doesn’t realize he’d actually moved until he feels the chill late September air attack his face again, making him gasp harshly. Goosebumps are alive on his skin and he feels so fucking sick inside and all he wants is to get on his fucking hog and ride. Ride far from this fucking school, far from this fucking moment, far from- from what he- he had almost... almost done-

 Mondo is moving before he realizes again, mind so fucking confused it’s not fucking funny, feet taking off in the opposite direction he saw Ishimaru go. He can distantly hear people calling to him, Leon saying his name, but he ignores them. And then he starts walking faster, not quite running since his endurance for running is fucking shit, but he definitely is going fast, his long legs helping him for once. Pretty soon he’s out of the fucking mall and he doesn’t quite know the way back to the school, but he’s always had a good fucking sense of direction, so it doesn’t take him long to see streets he recognizes that allow him to make it back to the school right fucking quick. He keeps his eyes peeled, making sure that no one fucking approaches him (and that he doesn’t accidentally run into the one person he wants to see the least), which thankfully doesn’t happen, thank fuck. 

 Before long he’s in the school parking lot and as soon as he’s there he makes a beeline for his baby, hopping on without a single fucking thought, keys already in hand to turn her on. He doesn’t wait a single fucking second before peeling out of the parking lot, not caring about speed limits or traffic as he speeds towards the highway. 

 He doesn’t know where he’s going. He has no fucking idea where he wants to go, or what the fuck he’s going to do; all he knows is that he has to be away, away, away. H-he can’t stand being in that fucking school, fucking surrounded by that goddamn fucking hall monitor, slowly losing his goddamn mind, shit! He... he just can’t! 

 At least while he’s driving, he doesn’t have to think. He just drives, faster and faster, avoiding the other cars without any fucking problem. He’s going far over the speed limit, pressing 160 KPH, but he doesn’t fucking care. If the cops try to pull him over, he’ll just lead them on a chase, fuck that would feel so fucking good right about now. It’s risky doing that shit when by himself, his plates on, but he just doesn’t fucking care, god! He just doesn’t care! He wants to fucking stop feeling like this, his body and mind fucking frozen in that moment, wondering what would have happened had Ishimaru not pulled away, had he erased those last remaining centimeters, had he been able to actually fucking kiss those fucking kissable looking lips-

 Mondo drives faster. He drives faster and faster and faster, as fast as he fucking can, not caring where he’s going, just knowing he needs to be away. 

  (This part is cut out because there are ~~~~spoilers oooooo~~~~ Just know that Mondo is outside somewhere now. And he has alcohol, somehow that I can’t say because of spoilers, ha. There are some mild spoilers for the rest of TPWP in this next section, but nothing super major.)

   He takes the cap off the whiskey bottle and he downs half the bottle in one fucking gulp. It makes him feel so fucking sick but he doesn’t fucking care, he doesn’t care, he just wants to not fucking think- 

 He’s not fucking gay. He’s not, he’s not, he’s not, god, he’s not! He hadn’t wanted to- to do anything with Ishimaru, he fucking despises Ishimaru, he has never hated anyone more! Fuck, even the thought of that fucking fairy makes him want to kill someone! Ishimaru could fucking die and he wouldn’t fucking care! He wouldn’t! He wouldn’t! He fucking, goddamn WOULDN’T!

 You’re such a goddamn liar, Owada, such a goddamn fucking liar-

 He drinks. He drinks. He drinks and he drinks and he drinks, until the ache in his chest is gone, until he can’t feel anything anymore, until all he feels is fucking numb.  

 Ishimaru means nothing to him. Absolutely nothing. He doesn’t know why he’s felt so weird about him before now, but like fuck is he ever going to allow himself to show that motherfucker any hint of mercy now. It’s decided. His life’s fucking goal is to make Ishimaru as fucking miserable as possible. He will do everything he can to break that motherfucker, so that he never fucking thinks he can get that fucking close to him again, so he fucking knows how disgusting and pathetic he is. Mondo isn’t gay. He’s not gay, and he has no problem with people who are gay, but he does fucking have a problem with Ishi-fucking-maru. 

 He’s not gay. He’s not gay. He repeats the words in his mind, staring blankly at the stars, not knowing when the sun had set and night came, but not really caring. He isn’t gay, he can’t be gay. He has nothing against gay people, and if he were gay, it wouldn’t be a fucking problem, but he’s fucking not fucking gay. He likes chicks. Breasts. Pussy. When he looks at a naked chick in his porno mags, or when watching porn, he gets so fucking hard. He jerks off every night to the thought of himself fucking pounding into chicks, of chicks blowing him, of him eating chicks out. He likes chicks, he’s fucking attracted to chicks. 

 He doesn’t like dudes. He just- he doesn’t. He fucking can’t, because he already likes chicks, and Daiya always told him he could only like one. Chicks or dudes. Dudes or chicks. Whichever he chose, Daiya would support him, he was a good fucking brother, but the one thing he always told Mondo was that he had to choose only one. 

 Their old man liked both. He’d have men over, sometimes, and do things with them. While their ma was in the next room, sobbing her eyes out, Mondo staring wide-eyed at the wall, not knowing what any of it meant, he’d been so fucking young. His da apparently did shit like that before Mondo was born, too, even when things had been better for their little family, before Mondo ruined everything with his birth. Daiya always hated it, said it was fucking despicable, and he told Mondo he had to choose one. He had to be faithful, monogamous, and you can’t be faithful if you like both. Daiya never said that aloud, but Mondo could fucking read between the lines. 

 Mondo likes chicks. He’s fucking allowed to like chicks. He doesn’t like dudes. He just... he doesn’t.

 He is not his goddamn old man. 

 He doesn’t like Ishimaru. He hates Ishimaru. Him and his fucking wide, watery eyes, and his sad fucking smiles, and his lonely fucking demeanor. He’s never hated anyone more, shit. If he never saw Ishimaru again, it would be too fucking soon, because he’s a goddamn nuisance, who needs to be fucking put in his goddamn place. He needs to be brought down, needs to be reminded how worthless he is, needs to- to know that Mondo isn’t, that he hadn’t wanted, that he’s not fucking gay-

 Mondo will never admit it, not to himself, but his cheeks are wet. He prolly spilled some whiskey on his face, or maybe it started raining, but whatever, it doesn’t matter. He stares at the stars, feeling so goddamn sick, wishing that he weren’t fucking alive. That Daiya hadn’t pushed him out of the way that day, that he had just let that semi ram into him, that he’d been the one who died and not-

 His cheeks are wet, but it’s just from the rain. It always fucking rains, even though there’s not a cloud in the goddamn sky. 

 Mondo finishes the bottle, and he wants to die, but before he can die, he falls asleep. He knows he shouldn’t, it gets so fucking cold overnight, but maybe he’ll freeze to death and that will solve all his fucking problems. It’s not like anyone will care. Leon doesn’t care about him, he just wants Mondo around to make himself seem tougher. Fujisaki wouldn’t care, she was just trying to be nice to him earlier, humoring him so he wouldn’t hurt her. He doesn’t fucking know anyone else at that goddamn school, they all avoid him like the plague, so fucking scared of him, so they wouldn’t care. And... and Ishimaru...

 He’d prolly be happy. If Mondo died. If Mondo went missing and no one ever found the body. He’d prolly be so, so fucking happy. 

 Mondo sleeps and he dreams of bright red eyes, drowning him with the accusations they always contain, the hatred and disgust sharper than any knife he’s ever felt. 

 He wakes with wet cheeks. 

 Goddamn rain. 

[blazefire-engine]

The Deal (Part V)

Summary:

Backed into a corner, Paradis is in need of advanced weaponry to go against Marley forces. Mikasa Ackerman understands this more than anyone. The Azumabito family complies with her request to share Hizuru’s technology with the island demons- in exchange for being “Hizuru’s hope.” A small price to pay, according to the ever loyal and self-sacrificing Mikasa.

Canon-divergence from chapter 107 to 132 (-ish). Which means spoilers until chapter 132.

Additional note: This fic is also tagged as #rivamika-thedeal if you want to avoid snk 139 spoilers in the rm tag. And link to AO3 and FFnet for those who want to avoid tumblr spoilers altogether.

Part: I  |  II  |  III  |  IV  |  V

----------

They arrived at the capital of Mitras safe and sound. The day was far from over as the next schedule in order was an audience with Historia and top military brass.  

“Thank you for your cooperation.” Commander Pixis shook hands with Captain Azumabito. “This is a cause for celebration. The first foreign ally of Paradis.”

“No, no. Thank you for the alliance. I believe both our nations can mutually benefit from each other’s support.” The Captain grinned. “We do think alike that a celebration is in order. I want to introduce to you our cuisine. And you must tell me what is in that flask of yours.”

“I respect a person with a good sense for alcohol!”

---

“Why the hell is he being so chummy.” Jean muttered with crossed arms as they exited the audience chamber. “I’m already annoyed. It makes me want to puke.”

Connie leered at him. “Eeeey, is Jean-boy jealou-”

Jean-boy twitched. “Shut up, Connie.”

A few female soldiers passed by, giggling and blushing.

“He’s a real lady killer too.” Connie grumbled as he rubbed the spot Jean hit. “Right, Sasha?”

The girl in question paid no attention to the subject as it looked like she was daydreaming. No doubt it was about the aforementioned Hizuru cuisine.

“This is Sasha we’re talking about.” Armin smiled. “She only has her eyes and mind on food.”

---

Mikasa stayed behind, along with Eren, Levi, and Hanji who were only a small distance away. The Azumabitos requested a few moments of her time, finally alone with a long, lost kin.

She unwrapped the bandage from her wrist, revealing the clan crest with three swords that formed a triangle.

“Amazing.” Captain Azumabito breathed, his hand instinctively reached out, about to touch her. 

At the movement, Levi straightened his stance from the wall while Eren behind her opened his mouth “Oi-”, but both relaxed when Mikasa curled her hand away.

“I’m sorry. I’ve never seen the crest embedded in the skin. The art of tattooing the symbol has been lost and ancient.” 

Mikasa clutched the tattoo protectively. “I recall the process is… a little painful. My mother had wooden needles and, apologies for a lack of better word, repeatedly stabbed my skin with ink until this symbol was formed.”

“Tebori,” Lady Kiyomi breathed out. It was the name of the tattooing technique used. "It means to carve by hand."

“Yes, that’s it.” Her son’s eyes widened in realization and the gravity of the situation. “You truly are a descendent of the forgotten Shogun clan.”

“Which reminds me.” He gestured a hand to one of their subordinates. “I brought a gift. My mother told me you were a soldier as well, capable of wielding a sword. And you have proven thus so when you slayed that titan.” 

Captain Azumabito untied and unwrapped the protective cloth, revealing the weapon. “It is called a katana. I teach it to my men. It is one of our weapons of choice in Hizuru.”

“T-Thank you.” She uttered out, taken aback by being gifted a weapon. With no other words, she noted in curiosity. “The blade is very thin.”

“Indeed it is, compared to yours.” The Captain grinned. “I can teach you.”

---

The Azumabitos departed as they were introduced to their chambers, while the Survey Corp returned by horseback to their base. 

Upon arriving, Mikasa went straight to the weapons room with intent to deposit the sword on her respected shelf. Before she could set it, she couldn’t help but unwrap it once more and inspect the weapon. She felt a strange connection with the katana. 

Perhaps it was a mixture of her Azumabito blood, calling on an ancestral relic, while her Ackerman blood called for her warrior instincts, a new weapon to master. 

Nevertheless, she had to admit it was a beautiful blade.

---

Damn bastard is already courting her.

“What the hell,” Jean muttered for the second time that day. He watched Mikasa gently inspect the sword. 

The rest of the squad also watched her from another room through the window across the courtyard. “Not even a day in and he’s already putting the moves on her.”

“It’s no surprise.” Armin said. “We all know Hizuru is trying to win her over. According to bloodline, she's their rightful heir after all. Besides, Mikasa is smart enough to not fall for his charms.”

“Looks like Levi has some competition.” Hanji snickered.

“What?!” Jean and Eren exclaimed, flustered.

At the same time, Levi glared and spoke in a low, blood-chilling tone. “What.”

As per usual, Hanji paid him no mind, tipping her chair back. “Well, Shikishima is a captain, trained with the sword, good looking, and he’s taller-”

Levi didn’t let her finish as he kicked the leg of her chair so hard it flew, leaving Hanji to fall butt first on the hard, stone ground.

“Oi, what was that for?!” The Commander whined.

----------

Oh my god y’all here we go. Let the games begin. This is getting out of hand already.

(when you spent time researching japanese tattooing techniques rather than my graduate project)

Also, important note: I will most likely not update for a day or two since I’m sure a lot of people will be talking about 139. But this means I have more time to refine the next parts and will return to an upload schedule. 

Anyways, I hope this brings some form of joy- y’all are scaring me with 139 lmao 

[doctorreids]

folklore - spencer reid x reader

CHAPTER FOUR - exile 

previous chapter | next chapter 

word count: 2.3k

a/n: so i thoroughly enjoyed writing this chapter so i hope you all enjoy! i’m the slightest bit worried that spencer is ooc but i’ll let myself lose sleep over that at some point. the donny hathaway song i’m referring to is this one - one of my favourite songs ever, so so so beautiful. reblogs, likes and comments are, as always very much appreciated - thank you for all the love so far x

“i can see you standin’ honey, with his arms around your body, laughin’ but the jokes not funny at all.”

It had been 3 months, 2 weeks, 3 days. He wishes he could recall the exact time but, for once in his life, he can’t.

There was life before Y/N and there was life with her, he never imagined that there would be a life without her; because if this is life…

The curse of having an eidetic memory is recalling every word, every glance, every silence, and every mistake. They filled his head every day, cacophonous and relentless.

He knows that 50% of couples break up then reconcile, he knows that this is more typical for unmarried couples to do. Yet, statistics do nothing to calm his frustration at himself. Statistics don’t tell him what he can do to fix what is broken.

There’s so much that he misses; her jumping at any chance to be with him, accompanying him to foreign film festivals, conventions, and anything he showed the slightest interest in. She would do anything for him, long before he ever called her his.

He’s still processing the depth of his loss. He had convinced himself for the first month that he could carry on and ignore the chilling cold of his bed at night or the loneliness of the subway journey home. By the second month, he could hardly look at himself. Now, three months on, the pain is so visceral, so real, that he cannot escape the crushing silence that surrounds him. No more quiet conversations on the jet, or laughter in the bullpen.

He wonders if her apartment feels just as empty as his.

He can’t help but let his mind wander to the conversation he overheard between Emily and Y/N in the bullpen - something about setting her up with a guy she knew from outside of work. He tried hard not to read into how reluctant she was accepting Emily’s offer or how defensive she looked when he went back to his desk.

What did he miss? Were there signs? Or did he, like he always did ignore the cracks as soon as they started to appear?

He didn’t want to think about someone else holding her, making her laugh, or being the reason for her smile.

It was dark outside, leaves littering the street, the rain pattering on his window. The sound of the occasional car passing by was the only sound that filled his apartment. Autumn was always his favourite season, it reminded him of change and growth, and when he first met her. It was cool that day, she was wrapped up in a royal blue knitted scarf and a soft brown worn coat - he swore to himself that he’d never seen anyone as beautiful before in his life.

He could barely focus on anything nowadays, from paperwork to books, everything was too difficult to confront. Sure, he’d been attending meetings, discussing his urges to numb himself from the world again. The beginning of his battle with addiction came before she did, it haunted him.

If he was being honest with himself, his addiction was the only thing he had fully confided in her.  She gave him all the understanding that, at times, his own chosen family didn’t give him. He didn’t resent them for it but it was frustrating.

He knew he immersed himself in work too often, the sea of paperwork and cases kept his head above the water that threatened to drown him. After all his years working for the BAU, he still didn’t know how to properly talk about what they witnessed. He tried to chalk it up to facts and probabilities, that evil exists in the world and all he can do is use what he knows to prevent it from happening again. But he couldn’t stop it from happening in the first place.

Despite how much responsibility he placed on his shoulders with his work, he questioned whether or not his career was what he really wanted. He’d promised he would find a cure for schizophrenia by the time he was thirty. Yet, here he is - alone, many a Ph.D. to his name but no overwhelming achievement.

He knew his first mistake was not telling her about how he was feeling. But he was angry, he didn’t know how to verbalise what was overwhelming him. Frustrated and choked up, he pushed her away. He kept telling himself that he felt suffocated, he was anxious that he would lose her to his job and he couldn’t prevent that. There was so much in his life that he couldn’t control.

His mother wasn’t improving, getting worse day by day, and all he could do was stand by and watch. He could write as many letters, call every day, and visit as often as he could but he couldn’t fix it. He couldn’t change what was happening.

He was surrounded by people he considered to be his family yet he felt alone. All the time. So, he pulled up his guard, plastered a smile on his face, and carried on. She would always go before him in his life, nothing could change that.

Work had been…tense. He knew from the start that the girls would be protective of her and he didn’t blame them - he knew that very next day when she didn’t reply to his texts or calls or when JJ told him to ‘give her space. His only other option was Derek and his advice wasn’t, at times, what he wanted to hear.

Derek told him to fix it actively but he wasn’t even sure what he was trying to fix. Himself or their relationship? Some big romantic gesture would win her back, he was told, but he knew she hated those. He tried bringing her favourite flowers, roses, but he would freeze up every time he got to her front door. By now, it wasn’t the season for roses and he was running out of options.

JJ, Emily, and Garcia never treated him any differently, he just felt exiled from their bullpen meet-ups. From the start, all he wanted was JJ’s advice. That night they all went out, he sat in her house with Henry, listening to him babble on about Aunt Y/N and Uncle Spencer.

He won’t ever forget the sad look JJ gave him when he left, underlying anger and bitterness in her voice when she bid him goodnight.

He can’t help but think that he had irreparably messed up.

“all this time, we always walked a very thin line.”

They always said that working together was more of a blessing than a curse, they were never without the other. They could read each other like the back of each other’s hand. Until one day, they couldn’t.

He wasn’t sure what switch flipped in his mind but his ability to be vulnerable with her and to open up completely was turned off. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t find the words to express what was going on in his mind.

Then again, neither could she. That connection between them was lost, there was this impenetrable distance between them now.

He couldn’t get comfortable in his chair, his glass of whiskey sitting beside his growing stack of books. He kept trying to find room for them but he just couldn’t bring himself to put them away - it reminded him of her apartment; books scattered on different tables, never on the shelf. It was the only trace of her left in his apartment.

His pillow no longer smelt of her, sweet and fresh. Her toothbrush was no longer sitting by his sink nor her shampoo in his shower. He’d taken down the photos, they were too painful to look at almost every day. Yet, he still kept that scarf she had left at his apartment after one of their dates, the royal blue one. Her perfume was fading on that too.

“you’re not my homeland anymore, so what am i defending?”

She had been quiet the entire car journey home, exhaustion clearly written on her face. Her brow was furrowed in thought.

“Penny for your thoughts?” He asked softly.

A slight smile flickered across her face for a split second. It went as quickly as it came, she was angry.

“I just want to get us home in one piece, Spence,” she snapped, “can you let me do that?”

“Sure.”

She wasn’t just angry, she was pissed.

By the time they got back to his apartment, she was tired, cold, and frustrated with him. He was equally as tired but grateful to be with her, alive and well. His run-in with the unsub resulted in an overnight stay in the hospital and minor surgery. Well, he thought it was minor. She clearly didn’t.

She didn’t stop for tea the way they normally would nor did she bother to leave the light on for him in the bathroom. She just crawled into bed without a word spoken to him since they’d gotten back to his apartment. In all honesty, he thought she was just going to drop him off then go back to her own home. He was surprised that she didn’t.

Lifting the covers, he slid into bed as silently as he could as not to wake her.

“What you did was really stupid, you know that?”

She was awake. He should’ve guessed.

‘I know.”

She sighed, turning to face him, “Spencer, I know our jobs don’t exactly meet safety regulations but you can’t play the hero all the time. I had to tell myself a long time ago, that you can’t save everyone. I know you, Spence. You’re a good man, brave and you have more courage in you than literally every other man that I’ve ever met and I love you for it. But you can’t keep doing this to me, to us.”

“Doing what?”

“Scaring us all half to death. You don’t remember me holding your hand while we waited for the medics. You don’t remember Morgan telling me that you’d pull through. You didn’t get to see everyone’s faces in the waiting room. But I remember it all, I don’t think I’ll forget it.”

He was stunned into silence.

“I could only think of the worst. How was I going to be able to tell your mother? How was I supposed to carry on knowing,” her voice broke and his heart shattered, “that I would never get to hold you again, or hear one of your many facts, or be able to explain how much you mean to me.”

“But, you didn’t have to-“ he started.

“I know. You’re alive and I’m so grateful. But if you ever pull a stunt like that ever again…”

His smile was sad, “I won’t ever leave you. You’re my home. I’d do anything to keep you safe.”

“And you’re mine too.”

“i think i’ve seen this film before and i didn’t like the ending.”

The memory echoed in his mind. He thinks about what could have been, the family he pictured them having. He knew, even though it was unsaid, she wanted a little girl. He couldn’t lie and say that he wouldn’t want to see a miniature Y/N running around. He always wanted his own kids ever since Henry was born and something inside him changed when he saw you holding Henry for the first time.

He saw his future before him.

Or so he thought. His dream disappeared when he heard his front door slam that night. He would give anything to take that night back. Take back the things that were said, the things left unsaid, and go after her.

By now, he thought he was too late. He witnessed the most perfect, the most precious thing he had in his life play out like a Shakespearian tragedy on the big screen. His heartache played like a movie he had seen far too many times before.

Maybe they were doomed from the start, their ending determined by fate. Something he only ever believed in with her.

“You can’t save everyone.” He couldn’t even save himself. He thought he was kidding himself when he thought he could ever win her back, too much time had passed, too much distance.

There were oceans between them, and for too long he was too scared to start to cross the vast space.

He stared at his now empty whiskey glass and out onto the street - the rain was heavier now. He had no idea what time it was, it was late. He wonders if she’s still up. If she’s sitting in that chair by her window, like he is, thinking about him.

His whole body aches for her touch. He aches to tell her everything, to apologise and to tell her all the small little things that have happened since they last spoke. Like how that mug she used to always drink out of shattered when he was putting it back in the cupboard and how he cried because he couldn’t glue it back together. Or how he searched and searched for a new one but he couldn’t find it so he decided to not buy a new one, it couldn’t be replaced.

He would tell her that he listens to that Donny Hathaway song she used to always play in the car late at night. He’d like to think that she would be proud that he knows all the words - that he doesn’t just listen to Beethoven. Morgan told him to play a song over a boombox outside her window. He didn’t get the reference but he knew he would play that song.

He opened his wardrobe to pull out his pyjamas when it caught his eye. The scarf, a shimmer of glitter caught in the moonlight.

He knew what he had to do.

Grabbing his coat, keys, and the scarf, he opened his door and walked out into the night.

[diorsho]

an even better gift

to hannah; from your secret santa 

words: 1.9k

pairing: bakugou and reader

warnings: swearing ! but that’s it lol

~~

Bakugou wandered up the street again. His feet ached from the sheer amount of times he had started and finished the walk in front of the shop windows. It was his fault and he knew it. He shouldn’t have waited until the last minute to get a Christmas gift for Kirishima. It was too late to be as picky as he was, but ever the perfectionist, he was trying to find the perfect gift for his best friend. His red haired friend was easy enough to please but Bakugou wanted it to be the best damn gift his friend had ever received. The cold weather pecked his cheeks and his nose almost felt numb, Bakugou shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket to ward away the bitter chill. 

People littered the streets and filled up every inch of the area that his eyes could see. Bakugou was slowly getting frustrated over the fact that there were so many people out and also last minute shopping. He wanted to be done with this so he could go home and be done with the whole thing. Bakugou’s eyes stopped at the store that he hadn’t checked out yet, his legs moving towards it before he could tell them too. The wisp of artificial wind hit his face as the door swung open and he let it shut behind him as the warmth from inside the store soon sunk into his bones. The door was soon swung open again in a hurry and the cold air washed over his backside, he turned around before he could really look at anything in the store. 

“Close the damn door, it’s cold.” The words came out of his mouth before he could stop himself and the shorter girl stopped messing with her coat as she locked eyes with him. The girl laughed and closed the door all the way as per his request. Bakugou followed her movements and stepped out of the way when she sidestepped him. Her hair was hidden under a dark colored beanie and he saw the tip of her nose tinted pink from the cold weather. Bakugou moved away from the entrance and slowly let his eyes take in everything in the store. He was trying with all his might to find a meaningful gift. He walked and took everything in the Christmas smelling shop, the girl from earlier was looking at small trinkets on shelves near him. His feet moved in her direction and he stopped behind her as she picked up a snowglobe.

He debated on whether or not he should apologize to the girl for a few moments. A small guilty voice reminded him it was the holidays and he inwardly groaned. “Sorry by the way, I didn’t mean to yell at you or anything.” Her smaller fingers clutched the glass piece a bit as his voice disrupted the serenity of the shop. Quiet instrumental holiday music played in the background as the girl smiled at him. 

“It’s alright! Don’t worry about it, I’m not a fan of the cold either.” Bakugou could now get a good look at the girl in front of him and he hated how he noticed that her cheeks were the color of pale roses. The sweater and jacket she wore seemed cozy and he now wished he wore a bit thicker of a coat instead of just a long sleeve shirt and padded jacket. 

“I don’t mind the cold. It just was colder than I thought it was going to be today.” She scoffed and placed the snowglobe back in its original spot, he followed her as she moved on to the next column of shelves. He shoved his hands in his pockets and locked his eyes on her. She seemed to be doing the same thing as him, last minute shopping. The two danced around one another picking up items every now and then to look at them. Bakugou strayed away to put some distance between him and the pretty stranger, but still close enough that he could hear her humming to the soft music. “Bakugou.”

She turned around with a curious sort of tilt to her head, “What?” Bakugou scoffed at the beginnings of a smile that was starting to form on her face.

“Name’s Bakugou.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?” 

Bakugou watched as she moved on to yet another shelf of funky looking Christmas gift ideas. He had a tight feeling in his chest, a strange sort of nervousness that seemed to be set on suffocating him.

“Sorry, I just don’t normally hand out my name five minutes into meeting someone.” She was smirking at him and it almost made Bakugou want to retreat to one of the previous stores he had looked at. Anything to escape this moment, anything to escape her. After a brutally long moment of silence, the shorter girl chuckled. “It’s Y/n.” She locked eyes with Bakugou and he felt the corner of his lips tug at her expression. 

“Anyways, what are you doing shopping three days before Christmas?” Bakugou watched as she started to linger closer to him as he half haphazardly looked through things. His fingers brushed against something cool to the touch and he grasped it tighter in his hands to look at the object fully. 

Bakugou let out an almost frustrated sigh before answering, “Trying to find the right gift for a friend.” The girl's eyes widened and she smiled back at him.

“So am I!” She seemed to laugh at herself and he grinned once again looking at the items on the shelf. A quiet seemed to fall over them and they moved together to keep looking at the objects throughout the store. A Frank Sinatra song drifted through the hidden speakers, the girl seemed to be happily humming along, it made Bakugou want to hum back. He grabbed a candle to smell it only to immediately place it back after the bad scent hit his nose. 

“Sorry should’ve told you it smelt bad,” she apologetically smiled. He lowered his head to glare at her only for her to stare back and laugh quietly. “Just wanted to see your reaction to the shitty excuse for a candle.” Y/n wandered over to another aisle full of small things, Bakugou followed behind like a lost puppy only stopping to look at things that would be remotely cool enough for Kirishima. 

~~~ 

The pair spent hours at that store just trying to find anything their friends might like, and even after moving on to other stores to look some more—neither found anything that really stood out. Y/n came close but she decided that it wasn’t good enough for her friend in the long run. Bakugou and Y/n walked alongside one another, almost touching shoulders but not quite. Bakugou could feel every time their knuckles brushed—the feeling sending chills up his entire arm and throughout his whole body. Bakugou wasn’t the type of person to even hang out with anyone, let alone someone he just met. Something was different with her though, Bakugou felt content being around her, and he didn’t find her as annoying as all his other friends. 

“We should get coffee or something.” Y/n seemed to stop him in his tracks and grabbed his forearm with her free hand. He grunted in protest but didn’t say no. She smiled towards him and let his arm go to browse her phone for what Bakugou could assume was a cafe. Bakugou gripped his phone tightly in his pocket as he watched her scramble to find something near them that was suitable. He looked up as she started to bounce on her heels, the sky was a lot darker then when he first started shopping. That also meant the weather was not as nice, the cold winds bit at his cheeks once again and made fingers want to grasp something warm in them, coffee did sound really nice. 

“You okay to go here? I’m not keeping you from anything?” She pushed her phone to his face, the screen showing him a smaller cafe around the corner from where they were. He nodded and started walking, the street name already in mind as he walked around some other people. The shorter girl soon caught up with him and pushed their shoulders together, trying to get closer to him or generate heat, he couldn’t tell. 

Someone held the door open for them and they both quietly mumbled a thank you before entering the warm shop. It’s the most wonderful time of the year by Andy Williams hit Bakugou’s ears and he could already hear Y/n start to hum along with it. Cold hands grasped his and dragged him to the counter of the cafe, his eyes locked on her smaller ones. He was so surprised that the small action caught him off guard.

“Can I get medium hot cocoa with extra whip? Plus, whatever he’s getting.” The words were rushed and Bakugou could see the pink leaving her cheeks, her hand left his and he looked up at the menu to order. 

“A medium hot coffee is fine.” He reached into his jacket pocket to grab his wallet, but she beat him to it and smiled back at him. “I would have paid, idiot.” The person on register ushered them over to wait elsewhere so they could take more orders. 

“It’s alright, think of it as a gift from me to you.” Y/n was swaying where she stood and Bakugou smiled before rolling his eyes and replying back to her. 

“Oh god, now you’re gonna make me get you a gift along with my friend who I can’t find anything for?” A scoff left his lips and small giggles could be heard from where she stood. Their orders were called and they both grabbed their drinks to sit down in the cafe near the bakery part of it. Bakugou grabbed a sugar and cream and stirred them in his drink as the girl across from him sipped her own drink. 

“I can’t believe you got a hot cocoa.”

“What do you mean? It’s literally the perfect weather for hot cocoas?” He wanted to be mad at her answer but he knew she was right. His own mother used to make him the same drink when he was younger once the colder weather hit. “You know what would go good with this though?”

Bakugou hummed in response to let her know he was paying attention and she smiled back at him as she took the lid off her cup, “A warm cookie.” She locked eyes with his as she took a long drink and he watched the whip cream stay on her lip. 

“Do you want a cookie?” A nod could be seen and the blond sighed before getting up and tapping the table as he left to order a cookie.

Bakugou returned moments later with two cookies. She smiled and grabbed the one with more frosting and more sprinkles, somehow getting some on her cheek as she ate the sweet treat. He laughed and they talked, getting to know each other as the minutes passed. The last of his coffee had gotten cold and he hadn’t found Kirishima a gift, but he had met a pretty girl that was nice company and he thought that was a good way to end his night.

~~~

@violetnotez HI HELLO I’M YOUR SECRET SANTA ! :D i hope you like this lil piece, i was inspired but what you told me and i wanted to throw some of your own fav things to make it more you, so i hope you enjoy !! have a great holiday and happy new year ! you’re amazing and i’m so happy i can call you a friend <3

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