#and would most likely pay for my mom because i want to bring her

[smallraindrops-blog]

Sacred Ingredients

Zagreus/Male!reader 

Fandom: Hades (2019 game)

Word count: 3.3k

Summary: There was a new cook in the house

warnings: Implied reader death, no beta.

Notes:

The fic that is the reason yall have been seeing so many food posts lately.

This is the first response for the wholesome Zagreus x male reader request. I took my time with this since I wasn’t sure if I was following the prompt.

To the anon, thanks for the wait. If this isn’t what you wanted, please lmk and I will be happy to redo it. I do hope you enjoy this one.

Important: often people would use other names for the gods to avoid bringing unnecessary attention to themselves. Our reader is one of those people.

Enjoy!

~

One of your first memories was of your Mom holding a small bit of cake between her fingers. 

It was made of thin layers of dough, heavy with sheep cheese, crushed nuts and honey, so heavy with it that the dipping honey caught the sunlight just before you bit in.

Sweet. Creamy. Nutty. All combining together in your mouth as you chew.

You groaned in pure delight as she laughed, getting you a plate with a much bigger piece. See? I told you that you would like it. Mama is never wrong. Not with food.

Just like that, food had became your life. To you, there was no better way to say ‘I love you’ than by cooking someone a good meal.

You learned how to perfectly roast fishes, how to stuffed chicken, the right moment to add herbs or how to use olive oils or butter to add rich flavors to the dish. You learned how to knead the bread, how to time the rise just right and the best spots in the stone ovens to place the loaf. 

Food was everything. It was the bittersweet memory of your mama’s hand on your cheek after a sickness took her far too soon, it was a way to feed your family while working hard as a fisherman, it was a way to earn your place among warriors and kings. 

You loved all of it, even as the other men had scoffed at you for enjoying women’ work. However they never turned away a meal you cooked, at home or in the war tents.

The very last thing you cooked, a recipe your mama taught you, was a simple bread, meant for dipping in wine. 

Barley flour. Dry yeast from the grapes. Then you added the simple spice mix you came up with and always added in. The one that had people waiting outside for your bakery before the markets opened.

Parsley. Rosemary. Oregano. Garlic cloves smashed up and added into the bread, and just a little dash of salt.

You had set one aside for yourself for later.

You never got to eat it. 

~

When the news came that the terrifying god of the underworld was looking for a new cook, you didn’t hesitate.

To get a spot in the house of the gods was prime time. It meant respect, a place to live and most importantly it meant regular income. That was money you can send to your mama and sisters so they can get into a better area of Asphodel.

You had spent hours over the cake. 

You made sure that each layer of the dough was perfect, thin and flakey with a satisfying bite, that the cheese was the perfect amount of tangy creaminess, that nuts were crushed to the right size, that the honey was placed in the perfect spot to complement the cheese and nuts.

This had to work because your family worked hard to get the coin to order such things from the expensive shop of the boatman.

Even the neighbors had pitched in, with the promise that you will pay them back.

You took a nervous breath as you shifted on your feet, winced as the terrifying King of Below tossed aside the meal someone brought him, promptly dismissing them. 

“And another one bites the dust.” The sleep god muttered as he crossed something off a list.

He looked up, blinking heavy downturned eyes at them. You and the other commoners were careful to keep their gazes low, not willing to show any disrespect to any of the gods.

The gentle one huffed and gestured for the one before you to go ahead. You were up after this, assuming that the person before you didn’t have something amazing. 

The underworld King made a loud gagging sound and wordlessly dismissed the shade. Gentle one only clicked his tongue as he crossed out another line and shook his head, white curls flopping around. 

“Good luck, buddy.” He told you with a cheerful grin, using his quill to point to the desk.

Did the gods normally call people buddy?

With a deep breath, you went to the looming desk, feeling like you were meeting the fates themselves. 

“And what is this?” The King of those below growled, his haunting eyes locked onto you like a predatory bird. His hellhound shifted next to him, their three noses twitching at the food.

“This is a plakous, my lord.” You said, proud that your voice was stronger than you expected. “Made with wheat dough, rich honey-“

The King held up a large hand and you stopped speaking, fearing you had already lost your chance. A shade took the plate from you and brought it to their master. 

You held your breath as he took the first bite, your heart no longer beat but you swore you felt it in that moment, slamming against your chest. He chewed slowly and his bloody red eyes slowly went wide.

A hush fell over the grand hall.

Then the King did something he didn’t do with any other meal, he went back for a second bite.

After that bite, he peered down at you for a long, long time.

“Is this all you can cook?” His voice broke over you like thunder. You shook your head, your hands curled up nervously 

“No, my lord. I have created meals for kings and I can cook many things. Meat of all kinds. And bread, vegetables and so on.” You wished you were a more eloquent man, but that had never been needed before.

Not to mention such an education was beyond your reach.

And your food alway did the talking for you. 

The king took a third bite then tossed the rest to the hellhound, the animal eating in a single swipe of its tongue. The tail wagged once, thumping on the floor. 

The Wealthy One nodded slowly.  “You may start today.”

~

The kitchen size alone would have made your mama weep with joy. The amount of fresh produce, herbs and clean grains along with plenty of meat made your jaw drop. 

You clapped your hand together in thought then…You hit the ground running. 

There was an endless list of tasks to be done before the kitchen would be ready to open and you went through all the tasks with horse blinders on, determination fueling you.

The first meal you officially served Master was a few of salted and peppered trout with a garlic lemon sauce with butter and herbs along with a hearty lentils soup, warm sourdough bread for the soup and sauce.

You added a fresh cucumber salad along with a large plate filled with cheeses and fruits that would compliment the fish.

When the plates came back, clean of even a drop of sauce, you felt something loosen in your chest. 

~

Eventually you began to learn the house's routine and the many shades. You learned to always have some type of bread readied with olive oil. 

You learned what went fast and what you had to jazz up to get rid of. 

The most important lesson you had learned in life and one that remained unchanged even now was that most souls just wanted something that tasted like home. 

It was toward the end of the kitchen hours when you heard someone take a seat.

Even at this late hour and working alone, you weren’t one to turn away a hungry soul so after wiping your hands on your apron, you turned with a smile.

“Welcome! What can I…” your words trailed off, your eyes going wide as you realized who was sitting in one of the barstools.

The Prince of the underworld gave you an exhausted, crooked grin. There was a curious gleam in those mismatched eyes, the strong lines of his cheeks softened by the dim lights of the lounge.

He was inhumanly beautiful in the ways all divine beings were.

But there was something different to his handsomeness.

Unlike the soft loveliness of Sleep, the sleek grace of the Fury or the dark shocking beauty of Night herself, this god before looked almost moral like. It was his eyes that revealed his godhood. It was the power in his broad shoulders.

You were surprised by how much you liked it.

“So you are the new cook everyone is raving about.” The Prince said, leaning on his forearms to peer at you. You saw the strength in his arms, his quick grace as he moved. Strong and muscular with thick tendons upward from the knuckles. 

It was clear this god was a warrior of a sort.

Your eyes flickered down in embarrassment when you realized you were being disrespectful in your staring. 

“I believe so, your highness.” You said, bowing your head in a show of respect for his position. “How may I serve you?” 

“Honestly?” The Prince leaned, scanning the area behind you. “Whatever you have will work. The last cook we had working here would just give us sliced onions if we came in this late. Once he gave Hypnos a single apple peel for daring to ask for something else.”

He sounded amused, chuckling to himself at the memory. It was a nice laugh, deep and rich.

You couldn’t imagine being so rude to the gods. Your mom was a pious woman and even a quiet sigh during prayers would get you a disapproving look.

With a nod, you went to get the Prince his meal and drink.

Thankfully you had a leftover trout and tossed one onto the grill to cook as you prepared a bowl of cabbage for him, added in spices along with honey vinegar and silphium.

You had some bread and garlic cheese so you plated those as well with olives and grapes.

You decided to give him a rich red that most enjoyed, filling it up to the brim.

“Oh wow.” The prince muttered as you set everything in front of him and with a bow, you rushed back to the fish, flipping it over. Once it was ready with some garlic butter sauce, you brought it to him. 

“Please let me know if you would like for me to serve you more or cook something else for you.” You told him and the prince blinked at you, his mouth filled with bread and cheese. 

The prince waved a hand before you left him for his meal. He drank the wine deeply before placing it back down. You immediately refilled it. “This is plenty, my good shade. Thank you.”

With a respectful nod, you resumed cleaning up the kitchen. Counters got wiped down, supplies restocked but it wasn’t the usual relaxing routine it normally was.

You felt the weight of those divine eyes on you. The Prince was quiet as he ate but you caught quick glimpses of his curious gaze on the shine of the plates, or reflection in your knives.

It was only when the Prince left that you let yourself breathe.

~

Master liked large meals but only if they could be eaten quickly. The only thing you had been warned never to add was pomegranates. No one would tell you why.

The Gorgon, the creature was surprisingly sweet for all the horrible tales you heard of her kind, ate in a rush as well.

If you were smarter, maybe you could have made a clever joke about how the lowest server and the King of the Underworld ate the same way.

But one look into her smiling face held your tongue. She was always kind so you would be so in return.

The Fury was a regular companion of hers, requesting simple meals of fish and some types of roasted vegetables. Mostly she would drink deeply, often you would have a pitcher of wine put aside for her. 

Sometimes Dreaded Death would join her, unwelcoming to all and cool. He rarely ordered any food, his fingers drumming on the table sounded like funeral marches to your ears. 

His twin was the complete opposite, Gentle Sleep had a sweet tooth unlike anything else you have seen. Often he would ignore the dinner option altogether and eat slices of cake, candied figs or honeycombs. 

If you weren’t careful around the god, plates of cookies that were meant for the whole house would go missing around him. 

You still haven’t found the last two plates he stole from you.

And...

There was The Prince himself. 

He was a regular now, always sitting close to wherever your work station was that day. He also was the only one who ate anything you put on a plate for him, and would shove the meal into his mouth like a starving creature. You always made sure to give him larger servings.

“Tell me your name.”  He ordered you one day. His tone was deep, firm. Making it clear he wouldn’t take no for an answer.  “You keep feeding me delicious food, no matter the hour. And I don't know what to call you.”

Then he added with raised eyebrows, sounding more like a playful suitor than a Chthonic god. “Please?”

You considered it, your hands still on the bowl of the hardy stew just placed before the god. You stared at the stew for a moment, then at him.

Or just past him, not willing to meet the god’s eyes, life and death danced in those unusual eyes of his.

You were a moral, a simple one at that. 

You never picked up a sword, never learned all the fancy learnings that a prince might, never learned much beyond what you needed to but you knew names had powers, could decide whole destinies before a babe even wailed out their first cry. 

Names could summon the gods themselves.

Quietly, you told him.

The prince grinned at you, his smile fierce and beautiful like a victorious lion. Your breath hitched, forgetting that one was to never look the gods in the eye.

Then the next words he spoke early jumped started your heart into beating once more. 

“It suits you, my good cook. Call me Zagreus.” 

~

Later, alone in the kitchen, recipes laid in front of you, you tried to will yourself to focus.

Schooling was too costly for your family especially after your Mother’s death. Your reading went far as basic words and numbers, just enough to get by in the markets.

You never needed much. 

Right now, however, the recipes might as well be another language. 

You were too lost in thought, several times you had already caught yourself even daring to think The Prince’s name in your mind.

What would happen if you dare to…

Zagreus.

A soft noise came behind you and You whirled around, glancing everywhere as if expecting him to appear right behind you. 

He didn’t. 

You realized you heard the sounds of the Wretched Broker restocking his shelves. Thankfully, he was too busy to realize that the House’s cook had gone mad simply by learning a God’s name. 

Maybe you should start wearing a pot on your head.

“Zagreus.” You whispered, fingernails digging your palm nervously. “Zagreus.”

When the god didn’t appear, you didn’t know if you were disappointed or relieved.

~

Slowly, you learned more. 

There were the loud fights between Father and Son that would cause the house to rattle. Many shades would escape into the lounge, hands over their ears.

”Tell me, do you get along with your father?” Zagreus grumbled, his plate cleared of any crumbs. His legs were bouncing, filled with an endless energy you knew you would never be able to match. 

“No.” You said, not wanting to think of that man. You knew he was somewhere in the underworld but the less you knew, the better. “I suspect few do.”

Once, over a glass of white wine and a simple meal of sourdough bread and warm vegetable soup, He told you was looking for his mother.  

“You will find her. I know you will.” You told him quietly, holding his stare. “Have faith, Zagreus.”

Another time, over a cake from a new recipe you came up with, Zagreus asked about you. Maybe it was the exhaustion after a successful dinner rush but you told him everything. 

His smile was warm, his eyes watchful of your every move as you told him of your family and their new place you brought for them. 

Your cheeks flushed when you realized he was staring at you.

“I will have to stop by then.” He teased, his hand almost brushing against yours. 

“Yes.” You agreed in a whisper, your mouth suddenly dry.

~

“Cook me your favorite meal.” Zagreus ordered one day, not even bothering to sit down. You lifted a cool eyebrow, well used to his impulsiveness by now.  

“Hello, Zagreus.” You greeted dryly, wiping your hands on your apron, not actually that upset.

Not too long ago, you would have wilted from the thought of being so playful with a divine creature but things changed.

Zagreus brought it out of you somehow simply by being himself. 

“I am doing well, thank you.” You continued to teased despite his oddly serious expression.

Zagreus blinked, then chuckled with a bright grin. “I am a horrible influence on you, I fear.”

You laughed, cheeks flushing at his smile. “I am afraid so, your Highness. Now what is this about a favorite meal?”

“Yours. I want to know what your favorite food is.” 

“Oh.” You grabbed an apple, rolling it in your hands for something to do. Butterflies dancing in your stomach as Zagreus leaned in, his hands on the counter. This close, you caught the scent of copper.

unwillingly, your gaze tangled with his, caught like a fly in a complex web. A stray thought reached you, could a mere fly understand the geometric structure, beauty of such things?

You swallowed nervously. “It’s nothing special, Zagreus. Just something my mom cooked up for me.”

Zagreus narrowed his eyes, his jaw firm in his resolve. “Excellent, then. I trust you have all the ingredients you need?”

You nodded but opened your mouth to dissuade the prince from his idea, however he was already walking away, “I expect a meal to be waiting for me when I get back!”

~

One day, staring at a wooden spoon in your hand, cake batter dipping from the tip, you realized that Zagreus had became someone very, very dear to you. 

Morals and gods didn't mix together well. At least, not for the morals. Cracked eggs and spilled milk and all left would be a big mess with no one to clean it. 

What did it mean when a shade, a mere ghost of who you were, was in love with a god that shone like the sun, whose very presence made you felt like you were alive once more?

~

When Zagreus returned, his hair was still damp from the Styx river and you had to look away from his beauty.

Quietly, you put the final touches on your favorite meal. You swallowed nervously as you picked up the plate and went over to him. 

Thin layers of dough. Creamy cheese. Crushed nuts. Honey.

A long ago memory of your mom's smiling face as she watched you take a bite. Sunlight made her golden and immortal in that singular moment in your very heart.

You offered it up like the cake was a sacrifice, like you were offering yourself up to the god to make the final decision of the worth of your mortal soul.

“This is the first thing I can remember my mom making for me.” You whispered, your work rough fingers curled nervously against the counter. “This meal is what got me a job here. I got to know you because of this cake.”

Zagreus took a small bite, then closed his eyes in bliss. He said your name with a weight that you never heard before. 

When he looked at you, his expression gentle and hopelessly fond, there was no need for more words. 

~

When he kissed you for the first time, he tasted like home. 

[mel-street]

suspiciously close to dropping a concerning amount of money to get hadestown tour tickets

[foldingfittedsheets]

I’ve always been a pretty good liar. As an adult I’ve come to a moral place in which I don’t use that skill set unless it will explicitly benefit someone. But when I was a kid all bets were off.

I think tiny child me was doing their little autistic best but recognized that some situations would be best navigated by lying as telling the truth never netted positive results. Whether it was because my needs often went unmet or ignored, or because I didn’t see any reason not to lie if it would be more favorable, I’m not sure.

This is the story of my proudest lie. The best lie I ever did. A lie that looking back I still go, damn, I was eight.

Our story begins in second grade. I was eight. My school was having a book fair and I spent my small stipend on Gulliver’s Travels. No idea why. Lacking further funds I wandered the fair and came upon the greatest sight known to man. Frog erasers. They were so cute and I was extremely into animals of all kinds.

The whimsy. Who could have known they made erasers in such wonderful shapes? I mourned that I’d spent my money already, and played quietly with the little frogs in their bin. That’s when I was approached by a few other kids from my class.

I didn’t know most of them very well, but enough that it was civil when they asked me, “Are you going to buy those frogs?”

“I’d like to,” I admitted, “but I spent all my money.”

“Why don’t you steal them?”

“I thought about that, but I don’t have pockets.” Indeed, stealing had crossed my mind but it had been a brief temptation. I wasn’t even scandalized that the other girls suggested it.

“Caitlin has pockets,” the leader of the pack said. And indeed, Caitlin in her purple overalls did have pocket space for two frogs. So Caitlin and I became partners. My role in the escapade was just... wanting frogs and walking out with her. We stole two frogs, a yellow and a purple, and united by the misdeed we played together with them at recess despite not really being friendly prior.

After lunch I was called from class to the library. The principal herself was there waiting for me. She had a somber air, almost mournful that she needed to punish me. It was self evident to me that I was here for frog crimes. Caitlin had cracked and taken the fastest route to forgiveness- snitching on an accomplice. Despite the fact that my role was just: wanted frogs, I knew I was going to be in trouble.

Now, I could have told the truth. Pulled a Caitlin and ratted on the girl who told us to steal them. But clearly I’d still be in trouble for having gone along with the morally bereft plan. I was mad at Caitlin for telling but not enough to foist the onus back into her.

“Do you know why you’re here?” The principal asked kindly.

“Is it about the frogs?”

“Yes, Caitlin told us you stole the frogs.”

I quivered my lip and drew myself up indignantly. “I didn’t steal them!”

She blinked at my vehemence but since I looked near tears she carefully asked, “What happened?”

“I really wanted the frogs, but I didn’t have any money. So I asked the librarian if I could take them and bring the money tomorrow! But she was really busy and lots of people were talking to her, and she said yes! But maybe she was saying yes to someone else? And I thought it was to me but Caitlin didn’t, but I was going to bring money tomorrow!”

The principal. Was flummoxed. This was a situation in which I clearly thought I’d done no wrong, in which she couldn’t prove I had done anything wrong, and which the librarian would almost certainly not be able to weigh in. She regarded me not with suspicion but rather vaguely confused as to how to handle me.

I got off with a slight warning that I should pay for things before taking them, despite not having been the one to take things in the first place, and the frogs were confiscated.

I was vaguely worried they’d call my parents but years later when I admitted the story to my mom as an adult she laughed herself sick and said she’d never gotten a call.

[chrissdollie]

Dad Bakugo x mom reader - I need more children in my life 😭✋🏾

def calls his kid "squirt" and "buddy"

in mY universe, he has a boy and a girl bc he needs the best of both worlds

CALLS YOU "MA" GOODNIGHT

we all know he wakes up really early, earlier than you even, so he's the one to check on the babies/kids every morning to see if they're ok :)

definitely keeps schedules of you and your kids days like exams, report cards, if they're going to a friend's house, etc

yk how most kids tend to be like "ewwww" whenever their parents kiss?? not ur kids nono. first of all, your son is the quieter one. not that he's not talkative, he just has a little bit of a hard time expressing himself. anyhow, his sister is very loud. but either way, they both think its sweet. your daughter even said something like "i hope my husband kisses me like that" once (when she was an older kid tho lol)

your son goes to talk to you a lot. he adores you so so much. but one day when he wanted to hang out with you, you weren't home. you were busy running errands while katsuki was at home watching tv. your son started crying and katsuki was like wtf?? eventually, your son grew accustomed to speaking to katsuki. as he got older, he actually talked to him more than you.

teaches your son how to be a man :,) katsuki knew he was bitchy in his younger years and he didn't want either of his kids to be like him. he taught them both manners and how to properly have a conversation.

little pitter patter of their feet ran into your guys' shared bedroom on christmas morning and began jumping your bed. katsuki groaned and rubbed his eyes aggressively. "it's christmas, mommy!" your little boy shouted. "wake up daddy!!" your daughter shouted in his ear. "alright alright you rugrats"

at your daughter's kindergarten graduation (idk if everyone had this but i did lmao), katsuki was tearing up and although he tried to hide it, he had to remain the strong one while comforting you while you bawled your eyes out.

p.s your daughter is the oldest

when she brought home her first boyfriend... ooo chile

i see a lot of people writing how katsuki would act up but tbh in his older years, i think he'd be a lot more mature. he'd greet the dude politely and treat him like he would any of her friends

btw lemme just say: your daughter is a mommy AND daddy's girl. she loves u both insanely

honestly while eating dinner with the boyfriend or something, katsuki would be very blunt and not pay too much mind to him LMAOO he'd be like "'tis is great, doll" as if you don't cook dinner every week and it's only when your daughter brings up how he wants to work at katsuki's angency, where he perks up

"oh shit, no kiddin'?" and you smack his arm lightly.

well this changes everything! he practically gave the kid his blessing. "welcome to the family son"

your son doesn't really care about them together, he just doesn't wanna see his big sis get hurt. lets say that your son is 15 and your daughter is 17. "so, bf/n. have you fucked her?"

you almost spit out your drink like a cartoon. your daughter is shook, katsuki's rage from UA is all coming back to him, and the boyf is scared for his life

you, katsuki, and your daughter have a little talk after dinner

"use condoms" kats stated. "i- WH- nono you can have sex next year." you corrected but ur daughter is like huh?? "wha why next year?" you scoff. "because you'll be a legal adult thats why." "no offense, momma, but that's really dumb. when did you and dad start having sex?" she folded her arms. katsuki shrugged. "like i said, use condoms."

you and your daughter gossip like crazy alr?? ur like the gilmore girls except you're married and didn't get pregnant at 16 (almost)

and this is nothing new to katsuki, he's heard u guys gossip trillions of times. but when he found out you guys talked abouy HIM TOO??

he busts into the room. your daughter squeals and runs behind you. "hi honeyy-" he shushes you, "you guys talkin' shit 'bout me?" "nope" you guys say in unison. "there's this other guy, uh.."

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Idk if you remember but you wrote a small drabble where reader was konigs secret admirer and it's been eating at my brain ever since😭 would you ever consider making it an actual story?

Oh I fell in love with the concept too! Here's a part 2 to that little drabble, I humbly offer it to you with my fluffy little paws ^^

CW: 18+ smut, fluff. Nothing bad here, just sweetness. Ok maybe a tiny bit of biting and light angst because it’s König after all... (Part 1 here)

He still doesn’t know who the mystery girl is.

She likes to tease him with cute messages and a photo of her tits but won’t tell him her name or where she lives. The girl won’t come to meet him so that he can show her some love, nor will she agree to go on a date with him. She just responds to his pathetic suggestions with a bundle of emojis that are about to drive him crazy, and another message that says: “Soon!” 

König has to fall back on the bed and go to sleep with a rock hard dick and a set of twitching, lonely hands. His dream of having a proper girlfriend was shoved on the back burner ever since he joined the Jagdkommando, but now there’s a certain girl inside his head, a new, even better dream he can’t repel. The next day is no better; he even forgets what he was supposed to bring home from the store, knowing his mom will only sigh and tell him they’ll survive without some ingredient they both know is very well essential.

He stands before the butters and spreads, trying to recall what his mother wanted when he hears a soft gasp further down the aisle. He turns his head and barely catches the sight of a woman, turning in her heels and rushing down the flour section, just somewhere out of sight.

Hope and curiosity spark inside him as he leaves the butter and darts after her, calling “Hey” and “Wait” between the shelves as she flits towards the cashier in mild terror. He chases her as if he were trying to catch a thief, and the girl picks up her pace, then slows down to a complete halt… and turns.

Lovely, fearful eyes behold him the immediate second she meets his gaze, immobile hands clutching a bag of croissants and a jar of chocolate butter against her chest.

He slows down his jog and arrives in front of her with a smile, but the girl only looks more and more afraid. Even her jaw is clenched shut, the spitting image of a prey who just got caught.

“You’re her, aren’t you? The mystery girl,” he asks, trying to make it clear as day just how excited he is to finally meet her in person.

Her eyes stay wide as she blinks, the little bag of croissants crunching a bit further in her grip as she tries to shield her vital parts.

“Are you done shopping…?”

Still no answer.

She’s shy, just like he is... Maybe even more so, which is incredibly endearing: the same girl who sent him a picture of her boobs last night, the same girl who had no trouble teasing him to the point of leaking cum all over his sheets is as shy as a deer when caught in daylight. 

It’s so incredibly cute… He thought she was a seductress of the most dangerous kind, but here she is now, looking up at him as if he was some boogieman about to come and snatch her away.

His smile only widens as he looks at his little minx who just tried to run away from the individual she’s sent postcards and love letters to ever since they were kids… Who knew his secret admirer was a bashful little cutie who sneaks around the local store to get herself some sweets and snacks?

“Let me pay for those,” he gestures at the products in her hand. 

Another awkward silence follows until she finally turns her eyes to the floor and nods.

Perhaps it’s not that odd that she sent him anonymous notes and talked to him in texts and letters if she’s this timid -- he of all people should know how tough it is to walk to someone he likes and tell them he wants to go out. But he can’t help but wonder if the girl is mute, or partly deaf, or both. He wouldn’t mind. As long as they understand each other, it’s perfectly fine. 

She looks at him like he’s a god —or a monster—while he pays for her humble delicacies. She stares at him with eyes still wide while putting the groceries inside a tiny cotton bag she has with her, and says nothing when he extends his hand towards her. 

“Here. Give it to me.”

He’s trying to act the part of a gentleman to the full, and she offers the floor a tiny smile while handing him the bag. It weighs less than a half kilo, but the gesture is all that seems to matter because she is indeed smiling, shy and pleased as he shoulders the so called burden for her.

“I can walk you home if you like?” he suggests while pushing the door open for her. 

She steps out into the luminous sunlight, eyes squinting a little from the sudden brightness. Then she turns to him and says her first meek words.

“But... Then you’ll know where I live…”

“Ah! She talks,” he laughs with a full smile and watches with a spreading warmth in his chest how she starts to grin, too. She’s looking at the asphalt and her shoes but she’s smiling, incredibly beautiful and pretty, outshining even the prettiest summer day.

“Don’t worry,” he starts to banter with increasing confidence—when has he ever teased anyone, let alone been confident around a girl he likes? “I promise I won’t come howling under your window at night...”

“It’s… It’s not that,” she laughs and bites her bottom lip. “I still live with my mom…”

She starts to walk towards where he lives, and he follows, his long legs catching up with her with ease. 

“There was the COVID, and my mom is a little unwell… And with the economy… I’m still a student,” she explains while they stroll down the street.

“Really? I’m a student, too.”

“Oh…? What are you studying?”

“How to kill people,” he shrugs, cursing his stupid carefree mouth immediately. “Fuck… Sorry. That was… I mean, I’m in the army.”

“It’s okay,” she smiles.

He sneaks a peek her way, and she indeed doesn’t seem to be shocked in the slightest. Far more frightened she looked at the store when he noticed her and began to chase the poor girl. 

They proceed to talk about what he does and why, how he only just returned from a month’s training that included concealment training in the mountains. She seems interested enough in his choice of career, which he tries to make sound as striking as possible, far more intriguing than it actually is. He tries to appear a little too glorious in her eyes, fearing he won’t live up to the reputation and fantasy she has built inside her pretty little head.

What if she wanted him to be a doctor instead of a moronic soldier? Maybe she fantasized about a lawyer or a historian with whom she could have fascinating conversations… And he’s just babbling nonsense about weather meters and ghillie suits.

But her eyes are still smiling, always at him when he looks away and starts to talk with his hands. When they arrive at the little wicket gate leading up to her house, he notices she lives only about a kilometre away from his childhood home. 

She was always here, and he never knew anything about it… His secret admirer, his passionate seducer, turns out to be a harmless, lovely angel who lives right in the neighbourhood.

She takes her little cotton bag and turns to open the gate, and his hands twitch and flex. Say something clever, his mind yells, ask her out for fuck’s sake… But he needn’t worry, for his precious girl next door immediately turns back and shields her eyes from the sun while looking up at him.

“I’m sorry… I froze a little at the store. I just… This wasn’t how we were supposed to meet...”

“No? What did you have in mind for us then?”

She drops her hand back down and gives him a little halfway shrug, embarrassed.

“I don’t know. I just… I don’t even have any make-up on...”

He risks to bring a hand to her face, his thumb on her cheekbone, sweeps a little arc there to let her know she’s fucking beautiful.

“You’re very pretty,” he says, and she raises her eyes back to his, this time looking like she’s being blinded by the sun even if he’s shielding her from it.

“I really liked the picture you sent me,” he says boldly, and for the second time this afternoon, hopes the earth could swallow him right then and there. 

A pretty girl sends him one nice picture of her tits, and he has to be an asshole about it… She looks super uncomfortable, so flustered that she nearly guides her face away from his palm. 

Fuck that he’s stupid… Must he always be such an idiot and fuck everything up?

“I’m sorry... I meant to say that–”

“I’m glad you liked it,” she rises on her toes and plants a quick, flustered peck on his cheek, then turns to the gate as quickly as a whirlwind. Opens it, and returns solely to give him a bashful, naughty little smile. 

“I liked your picture too,” she says so softly he can barely hear it. 

“...Oh,” he squeaks, cheek still burning from her kiss.

“Do you want to come and see me tonight...? Mom usually drops before ten...”

“I… I… Sure.”

…

It’s a catastrophe.

His old jeans barely fit him anymore, they’ve become way too tight around the thighs. He’s put on some weight during the past few years and made sure to go to the gym every slack hour he has at his disposal, which means he’s packed a bit of muscle here and there. That, along with the many outdoor trainings, have ensured his appetite remains even bigger than usual so it’s no wonder none of his old pants fit. The only ones that don’t look utterly suggestive and wrong are his grey sweatpants, which he wore to the store today. He can’t very well wear those on a date, no matter what all those thirsty TikTok memes say...

He sighs, and grabs the black military pants he had on when he came here, pairing them with a simple black T-shirt. That’s all he has in his drawers: black, black, black, a few white ones that have some food and coffee stains on them, stains that never leave no matter how hard his mom tries to wash them for him.

The house is silent as he slips the keys into his pocket and hollers that he’s leaving. Like some lovesick, unneutered dog about to slink into the night…

“Mom? I’m going out. I… I have a date.”

“At this hour...?”

“Yeah… We’re… Going out to look at the moon,” he makes up off the top of his head.

His mom would scold him for harassing some poor girl when it’s almost midnight, even if it was her who invited him to her house. And if he’s lucky, there’s going to be a lot more action than just staring at the moon together… Not that that’s all he wants; it’s just that he’s been lonely as fuck and could really use a hug. 

Is it a crime, with the past that he has, to want some human contact? Some skin on skin memories that don’t include punching?

“My little boy,” his mom strolls into the room, looking at him with soft, worried eyes. “You look like you’re about to invade some poor, innocent country…”

“Eh… I know. All the other pants were too small.’

She smiles at him: seeing a grown man sweat like a pig before a date must be a silly sight, even more compelling when that man is your own boy. The clock ticks on the wall as she looks at him like he’s about to march off to war, his only shoes a pair of standard leather boots he’s used for two years now. He showed them some grease and a brush, managed to make them look a little less worn and torn – if he had known some cute girl back home had a crush on him, he would’ve visited a clothing store before he came here…

His mom raises a shaky hand and draws him down to kiss him on the cheek, her eyes glossy and hazed from the gathering tears. 

“I’m glad you’re finally eating enough,” she whispers with a voice that barely holds intact, and they both know why it’s shaking, why everything’s trembling; her hands, her voice and her tears.

His bottom lip is twitching too from witnessing his mom being so happy for his sake. But he doesn’t want to cry. He must stay oblivious and strong and pretend that things are finally how they should’ve been: normal and easy and wholesome and good. For her, he will never show that he’s shaking… Too many things in her life have done that when she needed them to stay stable and safe.

“Wish me luck,” he gives her a nervous smile, laughing the tears away.

“I always do…”

He leaves before his tower crumbles, slips out into the sweet, scented night.

There’s roses somewhere, roses that smell heavenly, some early jasmine too that wishes to intoxicate his mind. He realizes he has nothing with him to take as a gift for her, and cusses again. This is a fucking date, and he’s not even dressed properly; he doesn’t even have flowers to bring with him… She’s going to think he’s a nobody, some penniless freak who dresses like a crazy person when he’s supposed to dazzle her and make her swoon.

On his way to her place, he stops to cut a small branch from a flowering rowan tree and shelters it from the gusts of wind that blow from the river. The tiny flowers are delicate and fragrant, not exactly what he would’ve taken to her had he been clever enough to visit a florist before they all closed. But it’s cute enough, to him at least, especially when it’s cut from the tree that was his safe haven as a boy.

The curtains at her window shift when he arrives at the gate, and he knows she’s been expecting him, waiting for the clock to strike ten as eagerly as he.

The front door opens, and there she is: dressed far more accordingly than he; his lady has slipped into a sweet summer dress like the angel that she is. It’s bright and yellow, far from the darkness he always wears, and his heart is slowly squeezing to bits inside his chest.

“Hey,” she gives him a wide, knee-buckling smile.

“Hey,” he smiles back, marching to her door like a horny, ugly wolf. “You want to go for a walk? It’s a beautiful ni–”

The moment he arrives at her feet, the moment she sees that he’s carrying a tiny branch from the rowan tree for her, she snatches the front of his shirt and pulls him inside with a surprising amount of strength.

His forehead hits the doorframe with a thick thud before he manages to bow, and there’s a bit of a commotion after that. He huffs something akin to Oof and laughs, making the angel flit around him in a wild, flustered shame, apologizing to him at least ten times.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry! I’m sorry… I’m sorry, I’m sorry….”

“Heh. It’s okay,” he smiles while rubbing the achy spot on his head. He’s forced to sit into an old wicker chair, wide enough to accommodate his back but far too low to hold his stature. He sinks inside it like a veritable giant while she continues to fuss around him, inspecting his “wound” and taking the offering from him with a helpless, embarrassed stare.

“I’ll get you some ice,” she says before leaving him in his chair, the flower he brought softly placed on the bed. 

He’s afraid the furniture will break if he moves, so he stays as still as possible while taking in his surroundings, the soft girl adobe he has somehow managed to sneak his sorry rotten arse into. 

She has a large TV in front of her bed, a gaming console and a lot of books, candles everywhere he steals a look. The beige bedding looks freshly changed and incredibly soft, and there’s an old bunny toy on her bedstand along with another book, both loved to bits. Some houseplants on the floor appear to be doing extremely well, a small leather bag and some makeup left scattered on her desk. Rocks and twigs and dried flowers rest on her window sill, treasures she’s gathered from her trails. It makes his heart grow soft because he knows she will probably put his little offering there too. A bouquet of expensive, luxurious flowers wouldn’t have hit their target at all.

She returns with a small pack of ice and rushes to him in her flowy, blooming summer dress. Descends on her knees and brings a small towel to his forehead before pressing the ice over it, ensuring that it’s not too cold to make him uncomfortable. 

As if he could ever feel uncomfortable, seated in a wicker chair with an angel between his legs, treating his supposed wound with ice and the softest touch…

“Remember all those postcards you sent me?” he asks while she continues to look like the worst person who ever lived, simply because she was too eager to pull him inside her room.

“Sadly, yes.”

“Remember what you wrote to me?”

“Not really,” she says, dabbing the ice pack all over the rising bump on his head. “Something stupid, I suppose…”

“You told me that you love me.”

Her eyes dart to his for a while, hope and shame battling in her fae stare.

“...Oh God.”

“Many times. And then you told me that I’m cute…”

She sighs and brings the ice and the cloth somewhere in her lap. The breasts inside their soft little cell look astoundingly delicious when viewed from up here: he’s slouching in a chair and still, is able to take a rude little peek inside her dress. He slaps himself mentally for being such a goddamn pervert, but then she sighs again, the cute little peaches swelling inside her dress once more.

“That’s it?” 

“That’s mostly it, yes…”

He’s getting hard here, which is a problem. A big, big problem…

His shy admirer never notices anything, not even when he softly gestures for her to give the ice to him. He continues to press it on his forehead, trying to concentrate on the cold sensation rather than the swelling dick in his pants. 

How is he supposed to not grow hard when he knows this adorable little creature has been infatuated with him for so long? When he knows she’s flustered now, just from hearing him tease her about those silly, harmless cards?

“I kept every single one,” he tells her, only to watch how the shy girl grows even shyer.

“You didn’t…”

“I did.”

He tells her about the bullies and how they made it look like they had sent the cards, telling him no girl could ever want to be with him. It’s a sad attempt to fish for her affection and pity, words of contempt and judgement to hammer it home that he did receive those cards from this girl, he did, in fact, deserve to be loved and adored.

And then she starts to talk about how she watched him... How she went to a different school than him, but that she sometimes strolled behind him when he walked home. They shared the journey to and from school, and he was always completely unaware that he was being followed.

“You stared at this rowan tree for what seemed like hours,” she recalls with a sad smile. “Then, if a bee caught your eye, or a bird or some flower, you stopped to ogle at those instead…”

He laughs, but there’s a bittersweet stone in his chest. If he remembers correctly, these were the only times of the day he could drop his eternal guard: in school, he was being tormented by cruel kids and at home there lived a tyrant with his sad little subjects. Trees and bees and birds were a welcome distraction.

She smiles a little, but it’s not a happy smile, even if it is affectionate.

“My mom always told me to come straight back home,” she says. “But you were never in a hurry...”

He looks at her, and she looks back, some pity in her eyes. There arrives a sweet and sour pain in his heart, a feeling that comes from knowing there was someone who witnessed a glimpse of the hope and pain he lived in. That there was someone there all along… 

“You even stopped to look at dog poo…”

“Heh... Was that the moment you fell for me?”

Her lip twitches, the pity in her stare breaks. She rises a little to lean forward, and he catches her with ease as she falls there into his arms, snug into his lap. His lips find hers without effort, and sensation bleeds: his hands are sweaty and shaking as he runs them down along her dress, cups her ass so that she gives a little gasp straight into his mouth. 

That’s the thing he was pining for: for her to open that pretty little mouth so that he could pry it further open with his own. Plunge an exploring tongue inside, not too quick and not too greedy, just a little poke to see if she wants to be claimed.

The angel melts in his lap, like pure white snow, until he braces his core and rises to his feet. It’s now or never, and he’s not going to let this moment slip past his fingers. Somehow, they end up on the bed, the smell of fresh linens and her dainty perfume catching his nose before she presses a pair of weak hands on his chest.

“The flower...”

The flower... Of course. 

The flower from the rowan tree.

He huffs a laugh on her face, a relieved smile as he understands she’s only worried about trampling his gift.

It’s set aside on the table, but right after that, he attacks her again, begins the ascension to heaven. His lips won’t get enough of her, not even as he drinks her like honeydew and ambrosia: the dress he used to associate with seraphs and summer now seems like a huge obstacle between his tongue and her skin, the need to taste more of her urgent in his hips.

“Can I take this off?” He roughs a hand down the fabric that shields her breasts, relishing the tiny moan that follows when he does that. “I want to kiss you everywhere…”

Her throat makes a wet, charming sound as she swallows, her eyes now pools of dark, drunken love. 

“On one condition,” she tells him, out of breath. “If I can kiss you everywhere too?”

It’s a deal, his mind exclaims immediately, but his devilish grin is how he tells her he’s more than eager to accept these terms. His clothes find their way on the floor along with hers, black on black on yellow, but he won’t let her shiver in the cold for long. Like a man possessed, his body finds hers, her soft, naked skin colliding with his like heaven after all those lonely nights of slick, urgent fapping. 

He’s not sure who’s worshipping who here, but he vows to never again let this angel fly under his radar, no matter how perfect of a guardian she has been. A guardian angel, following him with her blessed stare, sending him heavenly messages that were real and true all along. 

She should be rewarded for her abundant gifts, and so his lips find her shoulders and her neck; they graze her nipples and claim her breasts in devouring that leaves her back arching on the bed.

“You don’t have a girl? Waiting for you back there...?” she asks shyly, even when half her tit is being sucked by his mouth.

“The only thing waiting for me back there is my hand,” he rasps while diving down, down, down, all the way past her navel and the mound she still tries to protect from plunder.

“...I can be your girl,” she whispers somewhere high above, her hands holding his head like that of an untamed dog. “If you want…?”

He breathes on the apex between her thighs, presses a furious kiss there without care. 

“F-fuck…” she sighs those thighs open, and from that point on, nothing is enough.

It’s horrible that it must be so: that he finally gets to drink his fill, and it’s still not enough. Her sighs are not enough, her trembling body is not enough. Her attempts to muffle her moans with the back of her hand are not nearly enough.

He wants more, so much more: he wants to try all there is to this with her, forever and ever until the day he dies. He wants to hear her soil her tongue with more curses as he ruins her, bit by bit, just a little bit…

“Say it,” he pants into her glistening lips, “Say that you’re my girl…”

When she does nothing but whimpers in return, he attacks her with both teeth and tongue. Bruises the thigh beside her treasure before plunging straight towards the main prize with reckless want. That’s what finally forces the words out of her mouth: his tongue inside her cunt, delving so deep he has to breathe through his nose to keep from fainting.

“I’m your girl,” she moans on the bed, a bit louder now. “I’m yours, I promise… I always… Always…”

I always was….

She doesn’t say it. She doesn’t need to. 

He grants her mercy after that, replacing the tongue with a finger or two. Slow wide circles over her clit accompanied by quick little pumps in her hole make her cum in no time, and he’s glad he listened to the dirty mess talk of his filthy comrades. Patience is not his virtue, but for her, he makes all the effort.... He for sure leaves a little memory on her thigh. It’s not very nice of him, and he fears those teeth marks might stay with her longer than just a few weeks. 

Maybe she’ll forgive him if he fucks her after this, rocks her slowly and softly, fucks her like angels ought to be fucked. But no, fucking is not the right word... He wants to make love to her. Drink her moans right from her lips while he does it.

After the climax, he’s still hard and she’s still panting.

He wonders if he’ll get slapped or kissed if he asks for permission to put it inside now... His dick is throbbing while they stare at the ceiling together, but as always, his angel is two steps ahead.

“My turn,” she says with newfound vigour, and he gets more than he bargained for: everything and more as she gives his body the same attention he just gave her. Bites his nipples a little too hard, the little minx, licks his ribs as if it’s some kind of a contest to try and make him tickle. Laughs angel trails across his skin, draws a finger down his nether hair until she meets his jutting dick.

She gives him a tame little lick at first, then slowly, expeditiously, kisses his cock from root to tip. Before due time, his thighs start to tremble, and that’s when she takes it in her mouth: sucks and licks him deep until his abs and balls pull tight. The sheet in his fist threatens to get torn to shreds when he cums, and for a moment, he forgets everything, even his name, until he notices that the poor little thing can’t swallow all his load. She almost chokes on the first spurt, withdraws to cough with her mouth closed while he hisses fat curses past clenched teeth. 

When he arrives back to Earth, there’s cum everywhere: on her face, on the sheets, all over his abdomen and his thighs, an eruption that spilled everywhere because his angel got a little appalled.

“I’m sorry,” she peeps with her mouth still full of it.

The poor girl swallows it bravely, and his heart is about to explode: his angel swallows his filthy load like a champ and looks so incredibly valiant while doing it.

“Hey,” he raises a shaking hand towards her, too weak to rise from the bed to comfort her. “It’s okay… You didn’t need to do that…”

“But I wanted to,” she complains while the thick, sticky cum drips down her cheek and onto her breasts.

“Shit… Come here,” he coaxes, and she crawls forward to nestle in the nook of his arm. 

He uses the sheet to dry the rest of it off her face. She looks up at him with that trademark seraph stare, so helpless and in love—if this is what having a girlfriend is like, then he doesn’t feel bad at all that he had to wait a little longer than most men. It was worth all the trouble and toil that he has her here now, in his arms, batting her lashes sweetly. 

“You’re still incredibly cute, you know...?” she whispers, and a mountain inside him moves. 

It’s not sorrow, nor is it yearning; it’s just sweet, simple love. The room smells of salt and sin, but there’s nothing sinful about her when she cups his chin. He knows it’s not elegant to tell someone you love them on the day you've met them, but if the one you love happens to be an angel, then isn't it a sin not to confess?

[1d1195]

Dolcezza I

You know me and my need for love at first sight.

This is where I’ll keep her: Dolcezza

Warnings: mostly fluff, mentions of stalking

~5.5k words

Definitely multi-part. This part is mostly from the MC perspective. The very end peeks into Harry's brain and the second part will likely pick up more onto his POV.

Hope you enjoy!

“You really don’t need to trouble yourself,” she promised.

Harry turned pausing by the shelf pressed against the wall. “D’you really want me t’leave?” He asked with a frown. “M’sorry. I jus’... really want t’help you, kitten,” he explained. “S’like I need to. S’almost... compulsive... but I’ll leave if y’want me to.”

“No, I’m totally fine, thank you,” she said into her phone.

“Are you sure?” Eleanor asked. “I can send Louis over.”

“No, no, that’s so unnecessary, El. Really. I’ll be fine.”

She could hear her best friend sigh heavily into the speaker. Eleanor was nearly a thousand miles away. She got a new job and while the benefits and everything about it were great, and would make Eleanor wildly successful, she was sadly away from her platonic soulmate. It was extremely hard to let her go. Worse, Louis would be joining her just as soon as he nailed down a new job out there.

But Louis was around for now, which was a great relief for Eleanor. Her best friend was a lot of things, but aware of how scary her situation wasn’t one of them. Louis knew he was essentially filling as best friend for the time being and he was expected to drop everything to get to her aid if Eleanor said so.

But that would only last so long.

Eleanor didn’t want to think about that right now.

She was carrying a box from her car toward the building. Her shoulder pressing her phone to her ear as best she could. Beside the building was a small little alley where her entry way to her new place resided. As much as it killed her to pay for it, she got a whole moving company to bring her furniture in already so at the rest was pretty standard. Her family, God love them, didn’t even think that she might need some help. If anything, she would have had to bribe them into helping her. Even if it was just for the furniture. If Eleanor was in town she would have helped with the boxes and other stray things she had heaped in her car.

Even with Eleanor’s presence closer, she felt alone. Eleanor had Louis and she would never fault her for that. Louis was everything she would want in a best-friend-in-law. But there was always this element of not fully having Eleanor—not like when they were in college and sharing a dorm room. It was different now. Not bad, but different. Her family was great but a little self-centered at times. Part of the problem, she dropped everything to help them whenever they asked but they rarely returned the favor. She did it all, so why would she need help?

Fortunately, moving allowed her to downsize quite a bit so her mid-sized SUV was able to hold almost all of her boxes in one trip from her storage unit to the new place. Maybe, this even helped her explain away her family’s lack of help.

But her brother was either busy working at the college dispatch center most of the weekend or playing beer pong at a frat party. Her sister was so wrapped up in her high school love life or maybe just being the princess her mom and dad made her out to be by never making her do anything of importance. Her parents were probably waiting on her hand and foot without even realizing. If not, they were probably creating some sort of computer-virus havoc on their home computer that for some reason her sister wouldn’t be able to fix. Or maybe they finally started fixing the kitchen up as they said they would for the last year waiting for their oldest to come home and fix all the little things they broke in the process.

If she thought about it too long, she would get annoyed. Her brother and sister were more than capable of helping and they just didn’t. It drove her nuts. So, at the end of it, she couldn’t bother her family for help. Because it barely felt like they could help themselves.

She was lucky because the alleyway wasn’t creepy. Not even at night. The whole street was a dream come true really. Part of her thought that despite the circumstance, this was actually a much-needed move. It was almost lucky that she found such an amazing place. Her own parking space right out front of the building, a coffee shop—a mere stone’s throw from said parking space—almost everything she needed was within walking distance. It was perfect.

Of course, the best and most wonderful selling point of all was by far that her new apartment was right above an Italian restaurant. It smelled like fresh pasta, garlic, and just the most comforting of scents. It reminded her of Sunday’s making meatballs with her dad and watching sports with her brother and sister.

When her coworker Mitch told her about the place, she thought it was too good to be true. But Mitch knew someone who worked at the restaurant. The owner, Antonio, was looking for a tenant after he informed Mitch’s friend that he was outgrowing the space. It was a generous size. But it was meant for a place to stay and keep watch over the restaurant—max two people and that was pushing it. The little place could not support Antonio, his wife, their first born, and another little one on the way. Four people was too big for this place.

But it was perfect for a girl who loved garlic bread and spaghetti who needed a new place and wouldn’t mind the smell of olive oil all hours of the day.

“How did you find this place?” Eleanor asked, her third-degree questioning tone was present in her voice.

“A friend of a coworker,” Eleanor already knew this.

“Mitch?” She clarified.

“Yes, Mom, Mitch,” she rolled her eyes.

“I don’t know how you can be so blasé about all this. It’s serious!” She reminded her. “I’m not even there to protect you.”

She didn’t need to be protected. She had a restraining order. The police in the area were well aware of the situation and she was almost always at home or traveling one day a week to work. If she ran errands, it was always in public spaces. She only ever worked out at a public female-only gym. Plus, she had given Louis her location. All of it was nearly a non-issue. “I don’t even know how I got a stalker,” she muttered grumpily. The whole thing was an inconvenience. If it wasn’t for Eleanor, she probably wouldn’t have even gotten the restraining order.

“You’re too nice,” Eleanor reminded her.

She sighed, tired of the story. It had been almost a year since the creepy sensation of the guy following her had started. Eleanor had approached him on more than one occasion to get rid of him. But the whole thing seemed like a bigger deal than it needed to be. The guy was basically harmless; if not just a little bit more on the creepy side. He couldn’t take the hint that she wasn’t interested and had a hard time letting go. He kept a huge distance from her—she wasn’t even sure she knew the color of his eyes from how far away he followed her. If he was around, she hardly noticed. “Well, I’m moving to a whole new place now so it should be fine now.”

“You didn’t tell anyone else about your address change?”

“Nope, just HR,” she promised. “As far as everyone knows I’m still living in that crummy apartment.”

“Well, maybe this is a blessing that you’re out of there anyway,” Eleanor sighed, relief in her voice. “How do you like this place?”

She smiled dropping the box in the middle of the room before she closed the door and descended the staircase back to her car to grab more boxes. “El, it’s literally perfect. It’s like the apartment of my dreams.”

“How come no one at the restaurant wanted it?”

“When you come visit, we can go and ask all the questions—”

As she entered the alleyway from her apartment entrance she was pushed to the ground. The rattling of glass bottles clinked, clattered, and broke on the pavement. She already felt the bruise forming on her tailbone from landing so hard on the ground. In the process she dropped her phone, and she could hear Eleanor shouting from the speaker. “Ouch,” she muttered.

“Don’t move!” She turned to the sound of the guy in the alleyway with her—he was hurrying to his feet having also toppled to the cold, hard ground. He was wearing all black. Short sleeves even though it was a chillier fall day—showing off an array of tattoos that lined his muscular arms. His black pants had fingerprints and handprints of flour on them. There was something dark colored—probably tomato sauce—dried on the half apron around his hips. He clearly worked in the restaurant. The bag of bottles he was previously carrying ripped open and was broken on the ground. “M’so sorry, Principessa,” his voice was smooth and warm. “Antonio told me y’were moving in today. Should’ve been more careful,” he frowned grabbing her wrists without a thought and hauling her to her feet to get her off the cold ground and away from any broken glass. “M’so sorry,” he repeated making sure she was steadily on her feet. He turned her hands over inspecting them so delicately. Like she was the glass that had broken at their feet. “Are y’alright, Principessa?”

The silence coming from Eleanor on her phone was nearly deafening. She blinked a few times as she gazed at the most beautiful man she had ever seen in her life. His hair was the color of melted milk chocolate and looked like it had been sculpted of the very substance into the most unfairly beautiful curls any man should have been allowed to have. His cheeks were smooth except for the stubble lining his incredibly sharp jawline. His lower lip was chapped, and she realized how close she was to face to notice such a thing. Probably from the way he was biting it with the worry that he had hurt her. But they were still very rosy—like pink wine and much like the rest of him, very, very pretty.

He picked up her phone out of the debris. Wiping it on his apron then brought it to his ear. “Hello?”

“Oh, God,” she whispered to herself, trying to process the last two minutes. Eleanor was going to lose her mind.

“Uh... m’Harry... She’s fine—I think... Are y’okay, Principessa?” His gaze turned back to her.

It felt like her heart stopped as her eyes connected with the beautiful green ones looking back at her. It was unfair someone like Harry was that pretty.

She nodded, holding her hand out for her phone. He returned it to her immediately and she cleared her throat. “I’m fine, El. Promise.”

“Principessa?!” She gasped. “Oh. My. God.”

“I’ll call you later,” she whispered feeling her face warm as Harry inspected the mess.

“M’sorry, Principessa,” he repeated for a fourth time. If he called her Principessa again though, she might fall right back on her sore tailbone. “Wasn’t expecting you t’come out the door,” he frowned. “Did y’get cut at all?” He asked, scanning her quickly from head to toe. She was dressed for moving on a cool fall day. A chunky sweatshirt, a pair of joggers, and trainers. Her hair was pulled tight to keep out of her face.

She was the furthest thing from looking like the princess that he kept calling her. “Oh...no... I’m alright,” she promised. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think—”

“Don’t apologize, kitten, s’entirely my fault.”

She shook her head rapidly trying to get some neural networks firing. “Really, I’m okay,” she smiled gently. “I should have watched—”

“M’serious, s’my fault,” he interrupted again.

“Harry, what’s the hold—” Antonio entered the alleyway but stopped his train of thought looking at the pair of them. “Oh, hi, tesorino,” he had called her that a lot since he spoke and met with her. “See you’ve met Harry,” he looked at the broken bag and the glass. “Did he hurt you?” He asked.

“No!” Harry glared at him, a frown adorning his pretty lips and a matching pinch between his brows. Harry looked adorable when he was angry. “I didn’t Principessa, did I?” He turned back to her looking apologetic again.

“No, I’m sincerely fine,” she promised shoving her phone into the pocket of her joggers. “I should have watched where I was—”

“No, no, tesorino,” Antonio shook his head. “It’s Harry’s fault. M’sure.” What kind of reality was this? Antonio reminded her of Louis or a much older brother—maybe even a young dad, but not like her dad. She imagined Louis saying the same kind of taunting thing to Eleanor or even herself. It was surreal. A cute guy bumped into her when she was starting fresh. It was like fate—a new start and a new guy. “I’ll get you a broom, Harry. Make sure she’s alright.”

“Yes sir,” he nodded firmly. Antonio disappeared back to the restaurant to get the broom.

“I’m really fine,” she promised.

Harry was smiling now, he bent down to get the big pieces of glass that shattered and carefully placed them on the broken plastic bag. “M’glad, Principessa,” he hummed quietly.

“Uh...” she smiled awkwardly and stepped to the side. “I should get out of the way...” she trailed off and started for the street to gather more of her stuff.

“Here,” Antonio reappeared with a broom and a new bag, passing it off to Harry. “Tesorino, are you sure you’re alright?” Antonio had an Italian accent. It made her smile and even if she was hurt, she was sure that she wouldn’t—couldn’t feel any pain because it was so comfortable being around an Italian restaurant where people worried about her.

“I’m really, truly fine,” she promised.

Harry was quick to pick up all the glass and took a few steps around the area to catch any of the broken pieces. It seemed this wasn’t the first time this had happened. It was like she was glued to her spot watching Harry take the collected glass down the alleyway to one of the dumpsters. “Do you need help moving your stuff upstairs?” Antonio asked.

“Oh no, that’s alright, I’m fine—”

“Harry, help her with her stuff,” he ordered, ignoring her brush-off. “Her car is out front.”

Harry handed the broom back to his boss and hurried to the front of the building. “Hey!” She frowned and looked at Antonio. “I don’t need help—”

“Tesorino, please. S’no big deal. Harry would be happy to help.” Harry was already coming back with what she knew was a heavy box labeled ‘kitchen’ and heading for the stairs. Truthfully, she was dreading carrying that one, so she was grateful Harry was literally doing the heavy lifting for her but didn’t want him to feel like he had to. “He helped us move our stuff out already and into our new home,” he shrugged. “Come down for some lasagna for dinner,” he said heading back toward the front.

The entire interaction had left her so completely confused. Harry was beautiful and clearly a cook of some sort in the kitchen of the restaurant. Currently, he was up in her new apartment putting her box in the kitchen. Right as she came to the door to head after him, he bumped into her again, reappearing from the door so quickly, she almost fell right back to the ground. This time, Harry caught her around the waist. “M’sorry, Principessa. I don’t know why I keep getting in y’way,” he frowned.

He released her waist just as quickly as he caught her before heading back for her car. The warmth of his arm around her body lingered as she followed him. “You don’t have to help.”

“S’no problem, kitten,” he shrugged grabbing a box labeled ‘bedroom’ that she knew had an array of random things including an assortment of old CDs, a few pictures, and everything from her nightstand—including a box of condoms. Just the knowledge of knowing he was carrying them was enough to make her face warm. She frowned, hurrying to grab a box herself. “Y’don’t have any friends t’help you?” He asked over his shoulder as he made himself at home coming to stop in front of the second door in the little hall at the top of the steps. Beside her apartment was a second office for the restaurant. Antonio assured her that he was the only person who used it and at this point in time, it was mostly storage. Either way, she didn’t mind. The place was a steal and beyond helpful for her new start. Especially with Eleanor breathing down her neck worrying about her.

“I don’t like to bother people with something I can do myself,” she explained quietly while pushing the door out of the way for Harry to enter—but he waited for her to go first. A silent direction in his eyes as he stood still with the box in his hands. After an awkward pause, she went in first.

Unfortunately, she was compelled to fill the silence with more explanation. “My best friend got a new job—so she’s unavailable. She offered her boyfriend but he’s working. My other friends... no one wants to help move. You know?” She explained. But it was hard to hide the catch in her throat while she spoke. No one wanted to help her.

It was weird to have a conversation with Harry like that. It was a little personal, nothing crazy. But apparently, it divulged enough. “S’unfair, Principessa,” his voice was so gentle. “M’sure you’d help if they asked—or even if they didn’t ask.”

How on earth could some stranger possibly know that about her without so much as speaking for more than ten full minutes? There was a jolt of sadness that washed through her. But she pushed it aside and frowned at the stranger who seemed to read right through her without so much as a second glance. “They would help if I asked,” she murmured. But it felt like sand in her mouth as she said it because she knew it was a lie.

Harry didn’t harp on it though. He glanced around the empty space. “Are y’new to the city?” He asked.

“No... not really,” she shrugged. “I used to live just a couple towns over.”

“Ah,” he nodded. “D’you have a lot more?” He asked.

She shook her head. “No, not really. You... you grabbed the heavy kitchen one. So, it should be easy from here on out.”

“Great,” he smiled. “I’ll get Niall, we’ll be done in half an hour.” Harry left her breathless for more than one reason. He hurried back down and stopped outside of the restaurant. She was practically running to catch up.

Dolcezza was written in cursive script above the big window showcasing the beautiful restaurant. Most Italian restaurants always seemed so darkly lit. This one looked so warm and cozy and on the brighter side. It reminded her of her grandparents’ house.

Harry pulled the door open. “Niall!” He shouted. Without waiting for whoever Niall was, Harry turned to her car to grab the next box.

Niall was a little less than half a foot shorter than Harry. His eyes were the color of the sky in the middle of June, and he had an adorable smile. “What’re you doing?” He asked Harry as he walked by with a box. “Hey tesorino,” he winked at her.

“Grab a box,” Harry nodded his head toward the open car and continued for her apartment once more.

What the heck!?

She stumbled to get a box herself and hurried to follow the two guys moving her stuff into her new place. But she had to give credit where credit was due. Harry was right. Thirty minutes, and everything in her car was now in the apartment. Niall headed back to the restaurant without a word, but Harry stayed behind. “D’you need help with anything, kitten?” He asked sweetly.

She couldn’t possibly imagine him helping her more than he already had. “N-no, thank you. That was...really helpful. I can take it from here.”

“Jus’ come grab me from downstairs if y’do think of something, kitten. Antonio won’t mind,” he promised. He smiled at her once more and looked around. His gaze stopped on the tall bookshelf. He walked toward it and looked at each side. He pulled a little bag of screws that were taped to the side and put it in plain view. “Make sure y’anchor that bookshelf before putting books on it. Don’t want it falling on you,” he mentioned kindly. She frowned. In her old place, her bookshelf was recessed into the wall. Having built the new shelf so the movers could take it the other day, she truly hadn’t thought about it. She only taped the little bag to the inside of the shelf so she knew what it belonged to when she created a junk drawer in the kitchen.

“Er... right,” she nodded—unconfidently.

Harry looked her over again, sizing her up, as if he knew she didn’t know how to do that and was too proud to ask. “I’ll come back up before dinner t’do it. D’you have a screw gun and such?”

“I can Google how to do it if I need to,” she assured him knowing that if he didn’t say anything, she wouldn’t do it. “I doubt I can put holes in the wall like that.”

Harry snorted. “Don’t worry, Principessa, I’ll tell Antonio. He won’t argue.”

“It’s really—”

“M’offering myself, kitten. S’nothing t’worry ‘bout. M’happy t’help. S’no trouble at all.”

It was jarring. That was the only way to describe it. It was as if Harry could read her thoughts and see on her face that she didn’t want to trouble someone on her behalf. “Antonio s’not kidding ‘bout lasagna either, Principessa. He’ll want y’down between five-thirty and six. Come down t’eat or he’ll make me come up here t’get you.”

*

“Who was that?” Eleanor asked in greeting as she answered the phone.

“Hi Eleanor, the move has been going well. I’m about to start unpacking boxes and arranging everything. How has your day been?” She answered with an eye roll.

“Shut up, tell me about the guy, principessa,” her voice was nearly hysterical. Her tone was almost mocking with the nickname Harry had bestowed upon her. It made her stomach flip to hear even Eleanor say it.

Sighing, she put her head on the counter of her new kitchen. She eyed the heavy box Harry had put there on the floor. “His name is Harry. He works at the restaurant,” she explained. “Antonio had him help me with all the boxes and stuff, his friend Niall too.”

“I don’t care about that. What does he look like?!” The pause was telling. She knew it. “Wow,” Eleanor sighed. “He is so hot, you’re speechless.”

Rolling her eyes again, she was glad Eleanor couldn’t see her cheeks burning red at the correct assumption. “He’s cute,” she managed.

“Oh puh-lease,” she gasped. “What a cute little story you’ll be able to tell your grandchildren.”

“Can you relax? I talked to him for twenty minutes and mostly about moving.”

“Mostly?!”

“Sweet Jesus,” she sighed pinching the bridge of her nose and closing her eyes trying to think of the fastest way to get rid of her friend from making her crazy. “He correctly identified that I have shitty friends who wouldn’t help me move even if I had asked. He also got his friend Niall to help with the boxes in my car. And when I came back from the storage unit with a second load, they ran out in the middle of a lunch rush to help anyway.”

“You could sell movie rights,” Eleanor sighed dreamily.

She rolled her eyes. “His boss made him help.”

“His boss made him call you principessa too?”

“He called me kitten too.”

“Oh, you’re so going to marry him.”

“I have to unpack my house now.”

“What does he smell like?”

“You are insane.”

There was a knock on her door.

“Wonder who that is,” Eleanor practically sang. She glanced at the stove clock. It wasn’t even five o’clock. Not time to head down for lasagna. After the crazy afternoon she had, she wanted to make sure she didn’t give a reason to the funny cooks and owner downstairs that were helping her a reason to waste their time with her. She truly planned to head down for lasagna as they asked. But part of her thought Harry was joking about the bookshelf.

With the phone still against her ear, she pulled the door out of the way and found Harry. He was not joking. There was a screw gun at his side. “Hi Principessa,” he grinned so brightly it made a dimple in both cheeks appear. “M’gonna anchor y’bookshelf and then take y’down t’get lasagna,” he maneuvered right by her without so much as an okay.

“You really don’t need to trouble yourself,” she promised.

Harry turned pausing by the shelf pressed against the wall. “D’you really want me t’leave?” He asked with a frown. “M’sorry. I jus’... really want t’help you, kitten,” he explained. “S’like I need to. S’almost... compulsive... but I’ll leave if y’want me to.”

“Don’t you dare let him leave,” Eleanor said to her ear, her voice was practically a sigh. She and Harry stood feet apart gazing at one another.

But it felt so bad getting help from Harry. “Well...er... if you’re really sure it’s not a bother,” she murmured.

“Not at all, Principessa,” he smiled. “Promise,” he nodded. “S’jus’ a couple minutes and then I’ll bring y’down.”

“Eleanor, I gotta go.”

“I can’t wait to give my maid of honor speech at your wedding.”

She hung up on her friend. Harry was quick. He was shifting the bookshelf away from the wall. He snagged the little package of screws taped to the side. “Can I help?” She asked tossing her phone on the couch.

“I think m’alright, principessa. Thank you,” he said kindly, like he wasn’t doing her a favor by doing this. It was quiet while he worked. At one point he did drop one of the little screws and she was quick to grab it and place it in his hand for him. “Thanks, kitten,” he hummed quietly. His expression was so concentrated as he fixed up the shelf.

It wasn’t much, honestly. She knew that. It was just a bookshelf. But it was somehow so much more. Her heart felt so out of place. Her throat felt tight with emotion bubbling to the surface. No one had ever done anything like this before. A near stranger at that. Probably because it was so much more. It was a worry about her safety which people nearly forgot—unless they were Eleanor and by extension Louis.

She turned away briefly and busied herself with pulling throw pillows from the box labeled living room. Harry hummed quietly to himself. It was soothing. For a moment she forgot about who she was and that she had moved because she had a stalker. If she was a little more vulnerable feeling, she might have cried. It wasn’t the time, but she felt like she had known Harry her whole life. But she had barely spoken more than a hundred and fifty words to him. It was feeling extremely domestic in her new place even though hardly anything was unpacked.

The whole place was one wide open room kitchen and living area. There was a little space she designated for a table for sitting at and along the front wall by the window she planned on putting her desk. There was so much she needed to do. There were three doors along the back wall of the apartment. A bathroom, a bedroom, and a little alcove where a washer and dryer resided. She was lucky the owner lived here previously as she was certain there wouldn’t be a washer and dryer otherwise and that may have deterred her from taking the place. The idea of lugging her laundry up and down the stairs to a laundromat was not something she wanted to do in her late twenties.

“Oh crap,” she frowned. Realizing her state of being at the thought of walking up and down the steps all day.

Harry paused and turned to her. “Y’okay, principessa?” He frowned as well. His eyes looked her over with worry.

“Yeah...no, I just... I have to change before I head down there,” she sighed.

Harry smiled and turned back to his task. He gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Oh, y’could go like that, I think y’look beautiful,” he said sweetly.

Her heart rate took off rapidly. She could feel her cheeks warming but she knew her hair was pulled back and little pieces had frizzed and fallen from the elastic. She knew she was sweaty and there was simply no way she looked beautiful.

She snorted awkwardly. “Uh...thank you,” she cleared her throat. “But I would feel better if I changed.”

“I’ll wait outside, then,” he promised. “Jus’ finishing this last bit,” he murmured his attention focused on securing the screws perfectly.

“I’ll be quick,” she promised.

“Take y’time, principessa. M’in no rush,” he stood after finishing the final bit. He stepped back outside the apartment. God, he was nice. It had to be the fastest time she had ever gotten ready for anything. Changing out of comfy clothes and into jeans and a blouse that she would wear to her team meetings, so it didn’t look like she was wearing pajamas to work. She slipped on a pair of the first presentable ankle boots she could find a pair of in the box of shoes that was still unpacked. After she found a clip to pull her hair back in a more presentable fashion.

“Oh, wow,” Harry smiled dreamily as she stepped into the hall and locked her door. “Didn’t know y’could get any more beautiful. In less than five minutes too. M’gonna faint when y’have more than a minute,” he smiled and headed down the stairs as if he hadn’t just stolen her heart.

She was a little surprised he went down the stairs first, but she was grateful because maybe he wouldn’t be able to tell she was shaky and gripping the railing to keep her upright after Harry’s sweet compliment. But she realized it was merely so he could open the door carefully and make sure she wouldn’t bump into someone in the alleyway. Once he decided the alleyway was cleared, he gestured for her to exit first. “Thank you,” she said sincerely.

“For what, kitten?” He smiled as he closed the door behind him.

“Being helpful and nice. I... I’m not really used to that,” she admitted.

The grin on his face was kind. He shoved his freehand in his pocket and shrugged. “Happy t’help y’principessa,” he winked and headed for Dolcezza, surely to open the door for her first.

“Why did he name it Dolcezza?” She asked following behind him.

Harry smiled and glanced over his shoulder to wink at the pretty girl. “It means sweetness. Antonio met his wife when he was studying business, called her la mia dolcezza. He always wanted t’own a restaurant but never knew what t’name it. He knew the second he met her,” he shrugged. “S’a cute story.”

“Very sweet,” she smiled as she walked by Harry to enter the warm and homey restaurant. She was correct in her assumption that he would hold the door open for her. He chuckled at her joke.

There was something about the girl he literally bumped into and proceeded to fall for instantly physically and emotionally. He wasn’t lying when he said it was compulsive to help her. The warmth he felt inspecting her hands for injury and the worry he felt when she didn’t seem sure of anchoring her bookshelf. The thought that she was just above the restaurant that he nearly lived at more than his own place was comforting. A tug on his heart he didn’t know where it came from but couldn’t help it. Harry had never felt such an emotion like this for someone he had just met. It was like he had known her his whole life and he hadn’t spent more than an hour in total speaking to her. But he wanted to spend forever talking to her now that he had a glimpse of someone so beautiful and gentle.

It took every bit of inner strength for Harry to refrain from telling her he would name every child, every restaurant, anything he could name, he would dedicate to her.

--

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[should-be-sleeping]

Tough day today... and friendly reminder that being human is easier when we help each other.

I saw one of our neighbors, an older woman we sometimes talk to in passing, sitting outside of her house. I don't know what exactly made me look twice, but on second glance as we drove by I realized her walker was in the grass. She was otherwise just sitting there, like she had a thousand times before, so it would have been easy to assume she was fine and go on with my life as normal but something told me to go check in on her anyway.

She was not fine. She was the polar opposite of fine. Just diagnosed with terminal cancer not fine. No next of kin not fine. A veteran facing eviction from her house for missing rent while in the hospital not fine. In constant debilitating pain not fine. Only semi-lucid not fine. She was extremely alone not fine.

I thought, at most, she might be bored while unable to pick up her walker not fine. A five minute detour from my day not fine. A help her back into her house and say "see you later!" not fine. Instead I spent the last three hours with her because she was so scared and alone and no one should be alone.

We talked a lot while I was there. She's actually two years younger than my mom (who also has cancer but slightly better luck, I guess). I helped her into her house and got her a drink and we talked about what all is going on with her. None of it was good. I was as reassuring as I could be, but there's only so much of this I can actually help her with.

"Why did you come?" she asked through tears.

"Because you looked like you might need some help."

She called me an angel. I told her I was just doing my best. I told her that kindness should never be rare. That we should all try to make the world just a little bit better than it was.

She offered to pay me but I told her I was just there as a friend. Before today we were basically strangers. No need to repay me with anything other than her company, I assured her. She cried, a lot. I managed not to somehow. Something tells me she had needed to cry long before this but in being Strong she never had the chance to.

She needed to get her mail, which is a long walk when you're disabled because it is not at all handicap accessible (across a parking lot, over a bridge, across a small field). So I helped her get her mail. We stopped every three feet because her pain was so bad, but she was determined to be able to go do this with me and not just send me on an errand. I patiently stayed with her and reminded her, through her apologies, it was fine to take our time: there was a nice breeze and birds were singing. She appreciated this. She loves nature.

Halfway back she said she wanted to go to the pool. To put her feet in the water. She loves water, and has not been able to even see the pool in a month. Neither of us were dressed for swimming, but I took her to the pool anyway. There is a stair leading down to it, meaning she couldn't bring her walker, so I offered her my arm.

We went to the pool. She put her feet in the water and then, with more energy and enthusiasm than I'd seen the whole time, she jumped in. In her fancy dress! She was instantly ten years younger at least, clear and happy, floating in the sun. Dress and all. She grew up with a pool and had been on a swim team.

I sat by the edge of the pool while she swam, keeping her company and also making sure she was okay. When she got tired I took her back home and then had to help her get undressed and redressed. I made sure she felt no shame. Getting out of wet clothes is hard for anyone, let alone someone with like twenty pounds of tumors racking them with constant pain.

She was so fucking happy to have gone swimming.

She is trying to "make everything right" before she goes. Trying to repay her debt to society and her debts in general. She couldn't understand why the corporation that owns our houses wouldn't take her money. She was genuinely distressed -- not to be homeless on her deathbed but to not leave this world with a clean slate. I told her intent matters. She can only do her best.

This company not letting her repay her debt was their fault, not hers.

When I finally needed to go, I told her to let me know any time she needed a hand or just wanted company. She told me she was going to die tonight. I told her I hoped not, so I could see her tomorrow. I offered her a hug, we hugged and she sobbed for a solid ten minutes into my shoulder. I told her she was okay. That it was okay.

When I got home I cried myself, because I could not believe she was going through all of that alone. I cannot even imagine how isolated she must have felt. Once I pulled myself back together I sent her a text reminding her to reach out any time and I'd do my best to come over. Like, any time at all.

I hope she is here tomorrow.

[mxtantrights]

Do you think Jason would attend pta meetings for his twins? I think he’d make enemies with some of the snooty moms.

YES! oh my god YES thank you anon for sending this in!! he's a PTA MOM in disguise for sureee. you can't take this away from me.

Jason makes brownies because it's easier to cut into squares and put into Tupperware. he knows this to his CORE. won't let you make cupcakes or cake or anything that would make a big mess.

he probably hears twice the gossip of any usual PTA member because, for one, most of them can't believe he's an active member, and two, Jason has a very inviting aura.

Jason makes posters with the parents on Saturdays and invites them over to your house for casual chit-chat and food. oh best believe he will put a pot roast on and say that it was you who wanted it just so he could feed them.

is the first to offer to carpool. always.

he knows everyone by name but usually doesn't use all their names all the time. just to throw off from time to time, the mean parents who exclude other parents or always have something foul to say

Jason actually gets the chance to baby-sit some of the kids at different ages so it's like practice for the twins. he already knows how to French braid, cornrow, box braid. He also probably secures hand men downs from the other parents

Jason is frugal and he knows kids outgrow things in a matter of weeks. why pay for sneakers when he can get them for free from Marsha who is a single mother trying to make room in her garage for her personal gym.

you very much let him take it in stride that he's the PTA parent.

probably because you're the parent that no one wants to have to call when there is trouble. you will lay the law down for your babies. even the principal doesn't want to call you.

one of your kids said a bad word in class? call Jason. He'll talk to them about it and let it go.

you? you're demanding that someone else in class taught your kids that word. you're calling an emergency school board meeting about vulgar words.

Jason likes planning events too. He put on the first play the twins were in. It was a live action reenactment of a The giving tree.

he spends nights up sewing costumes and gluing decorations together. give Jason a task and he's making it his passion project. which is so concerning to some of the PTA parents who only know him as the burly man who brings brownies and hosts infamous parties at his house.

Jason doesn't care about his reputation at this point. will go out full PTA mode if he has to. Takes over someone shift as crossing guard one morning. Will put up posters around town and create whole websites for anything the kids need.

Also secretly gets Bruce to underwrite what the school needs. I mean, he's not gonna let the old man waste his money! it's for a good cause!

[xbomboi]

yapping about Briar. fellow Briar enjoyers assemble.

okay okay i don’t make it too obvious (or maybe i do, i wouldn’t know) but briar is my personal favorite character. i think about where the stories of all the characters would go and what their arcs would be a lot, but hers in particular is really important to me.

so i wanna talk about it.

first of all, she’s narcoleptic coded, right. we all know that. but her mom on the other hand reads to me, like, an alcoholic mother? and her dad is just willfully ignorant. either way, there’s a huge sense of neglect going on in that family. i mean go figure why briar would be the one doing most of the work raising her brothers. and of course she’s a party girl, because who’s gonna stop her? her parents? see yeah exactly.

so i don’t think it’s unreasonable to say she doesn’t have very strong parental figures in her life, at least not at home. but, and now you have to really hear me out about this one, i think baba yaga could take up a parental role in her life.

i know it isn’t much, but the seeds for her having at least a hint of a connection with baba yaga are there.

in the webisode “Stark Raven Mad”, baba yaga scolds briar for rambling about her party, and then as the commotion picks up she’s still exercising authority over briar in particular.

then there’s thronecoming, wherein, when briar is sulking at the dance, upon noticing the picture on the projector, she asks baba yaga for answers, who provides them.

and then skipping all the way to epic winter, after the girls become a little creeped out by her mannerisms and book it, briar is the one who makes sure to peak back in and give a parting remark.

so i think there’s potential there to be explored. her feeling neglected at home and then finding solace in another adult at school would be neat.

but the fact that it’s baba yaga is important, so just put a pin in that and we’ll circle back to it.

now, i think out of the core four, she was (at least at first) the hardest to actually pin-point what the future of her story could look like. with raven, i think it’s pretty clear her journey is just continuing to combat the prejudices of the world as she fights for change, apple is now pretty much on a path to figuring out her own future as ruler of a kingdom and what that’s going to entail, and maddie is the goofball that’s there to have fun and be supportive along the way.

then there’s briar. and, let me be clear, no, in my mind that girl is not sleeping for 100 years with where things are heading; in the main universe of the story, briar will be free of the sleeping beauty destiny.

but it’s like, if she’s not gonna sleep, what more is there to actually do with her? what direction COULD her life go in? because if she’s no longer fated to sleep 100 years of her life away, then she can’t just party like there’s no tomorrow anymore. she’d need to decide what she actually wants to do with her life.

and i think i have an idea.

i mentioned her narcoleptic coding at the start with intent to bring it up again. see, you might notice that a lot of the fairytale aspects of ever after high can be read as allegories for real-world problems. for example, hunter and ashlynn’s relationship is treated in their world the same way society may look at queer couples or biracial couples. or how raven’s mom being trapped in a mirror is their world equivalent to not paying child support.

with that kind of correlation in mind, i think treating briar’s curse as a condition could open up an interesting opportunity. i think, in their world, curses as a whole could be viewed as a separate branch of medical specialization, with briar spearheading this notion of thought.

we know briar is well-versed in chemythstry already. in the webisode “Briar’s Study Party” she makes note of the fact that she’s been studying forever-after, and she demonstrates enough knowledge in the subject to enthusiastically teach it to her friends, who all end up acing their tests on it as a result.

i think this is something she could potentially make a career out of. i think she could come to the conclusion that she wants to be able to help break curses for people everywhere, and could pursue learning to develop potions and elixirs to do so.

which could happen under baba yaga’s tutelage.

picture this: briar declares her newfound goal, to which baba yaga offers to teach briar all she knows in order to achieve what she’s set her sights on. briar—with an ounce of hesitance—accepts, and baba yaga officially takes her under her wing with the intent of mastering sorcery.

obviously, she wouldn’t lose who she is in this. she’s still gonna be an impulsive, adrenaline junkie who desperately needs a screentime limit on her mirrorphone. but in this process, she’d be rounded out by baba yaga and would in turn mature a bit from the experience. she’d get serious about life, but she wouldn’t let go of who she is at heart.

this could lead to her becoming the resourceful one in the main group. like on adventures, she’d be able to pull out a potion or whip something up (because i’m not going to let raven’s magic make her too o.p. she’s gotta have limitations) as a solution to problems. she could really have a role that proves useful and important to the story.

that’s my ideal pitch for where to take briar’s character.

[klaus-littlestwolf]

Hybrids Mafia Princess Pt2

Series Masterlist

Warning: Very sad dog/wolf death scene, it is traumatic and that’s coming from the person who wrote it and I’m very sorry ahead of time, Emotional and Relationship Manipulation

Translation: девочка means Babygirl and for anyone who speaks Russian, if this is not accurate let me know, it’s just the most accurate one I could find on multiple translators but please correct me if I’m wrong, I’m always happy to learn and fix mistakes like that

Tag-List: @a-beaverhausen @ranisingsnew @susannahmikaelson @skulliecadaver-blog

To say that night had been hectic would be a massive understatement.

After Y/n’s mother had left the room it wasn’t 10 minutes before the door was kicked in and Y/n screamed, terrified immediately that someone was breaking in and Klaus was on his feet, growling at the 4 men that now stood in the room with guns. ‘What do you think you’re doing Rumlow?! Get Out! I was fucking sleeping you crazy assholes!’

‘That’s enough девочка, they’re here to get that animal out of my child’s bedroom.’ Klaus instantly recognized this man as Y/n’s father and he would have no matter what he had said, she looks like him in more ways than she does her mom.

‘No, he’s not going anywhere. He’s mine now, he hasn’t hurt anyone-‘

‘Yet! He’s a wild animal! It is time for him to go, I am not asking-‘

‘Of course not! You never do! You never even speak to me, let alone ask me how I feel about something! He’s not going anywhere!’ She snapped, moving to hug him and Klaus licked her face to try and comfort her, knowing this was not going to end well.

‘I’m going to give you a choice because I love you девочка. Either you take the animal outside and let it go or I get rid of it right now. It’s your choice, because I will not have a wolf in my house ready to hurt my child, it’s nice now but it’s a wild animal, it is not a pet!’ Y/n was glaring at her father but he refused to look at her. Klaus could see he didn’t want to upset her but he didn’t want to risk a wolf sleeping in his child’s bed, he can’t say it’s not logical but he sure isn’t going about it the right way. ‘Choose Y/n, or I will.’

Y/n turned to look back at him and pet him gently. ‘Come on Fenrir.’ He hopped off of the bed and followed her down the stairs and out the back door, kneeling in the grass beside him. ‘You go home, okay? I’ll bring you something special to eat tomorrow, does that sound good?’ He barked, enjoying her scratching behind his ears as always.

‘No Y/n, you will not go looking for him, you will leave him alone, no more going into the woods.’

‘What?! No! You don’t want him in the house? Fine, but he’s my friend! The only one I have in the world thanks to you! I don’t get to have friends, or boyfriends, or dates, and now I can’t even have a fucking pet?! I’ll come talk to him whenever I want and you can’t stop me!’

‘Y/n-‘

‘No! I’ve always done what you say, always, even when it means I can’t go to college or have a job or know any other human beings besides the people who you pay to be here but this isn’t fair! You don’t get to do this to me!’ She was hugging him around the neck tightly and he whined, not knowing how to comfort her.

Her father gestured to one of the men who moved to grab her and Klaus growled, lunging at him as he reached for her and biting his hand viciously. ‘Mother Fucker!’

‘He’s protecting me! That should prove that he’s good-‘

‘It proves that he’s dangerous!’ He shouted, his voice loud and pissed off as he moved to grab Y/n and haul her up. ‘Don’t look.’ He told her, trying to hold her face against him.

‘No…No! Let Go! Let Me Go! Fenrir Run!’

Klaus had to give James Barnes credit, he’s much more of an idiot than he expected. Klaus had been trying to figure out how to get Y/n to leave with him, and with how she had been raised he expected it to be difficult but no, her father was doing a fantastic job of driving her away all by himself. All this was doing was solidifying it for him, though he had always hated getting shot. Humans and their guns had gotten effective over the years and it seemed it got more painful every decade.

There was a loud gunshot which cut off Y/n’s screams and everything was silent, no one spoke, Y/n’s mother not even knowing what to say right now. ‘Clean it up.’ James demanded before pulling his daughter towards the house but she planted her feet and dug her teeth into his arm as hard as she could making him scream and let go.

A moment later she was knelt over her friends body, crying into his fur and willing him to wake up, even though she knew he wouldn’t. No one seemed to know what to do until her mother moved. ‘Honey…it’s time to go inside-‘

‘You let him do this…you’re the only person he’s ever listened to and you did nothing.’ Y/n’s voice was hollow, she didn’t have it in her to care anymore.

‘Honey, I couldn’t-‘

‘You didn’t want to. There’s a difference.’ It wasn’t until she was blaming her mother that Bucky spoke again.

‘Don’t talk to your mother like that-‘

‘Don’t you ever speak to me again.’ She cut him off, glaring up at him. ‘All you’ve done tonight is prove everything that I’ve been saying about you for years…you don’t care about me. Maybe you did when I was a kid, maybe it was all a lie, maybe once I got old enough you realized I wasn’t everything you wanted and you realized you hated me cause you can’t have any better kids. I don’t know and tonight was my last straw…I don’t care anymore. I hate you-��

‘Y/n!’ Her mother scolded.

‘I Hate You…and not some teenage angst “I hate you” bullshit, I mean it. You were the only friend I had my entire life and for whatever reason you gave up on that and left me alone and now you couldn’t even let me have a pet as a friend. I’m done. I’m leaving, I don’t know how but I will find a way to get away from you and you will never find me again…I Hate You.’ Y/n released Fenrir’s fur and stood, pulling away from her mothers phony comfort and walking into the house without a glance back at anyone.

She knew her parents would never let her leave, they would see her as “in danger” every moment she was alone and maybe that’s true but she didn’t care, it had to be better than this lonely, painful life that she was living.

Y/n spent the rest of the night sobbing until she passed out, unable to keep her eyes open anymore.

Klaus truly felt awful for letting her believe him dead. He could see how much his wolf meant to her already and he couldn’t say he was shocked. This girl had been cut off from the outside world due to her fathers paranoia, she couldn’t leave the house and go to school or have a job or make friends and while her life with Klaus would be much the same (as he is also a paranoid bastard) he would never leave her alone to wonder if he loved her or not. She would never doubt his love. Plus she would have Fenrir to snuggle whenever she wanted.

Klaus knew that getting Y/n to trust him wouldn’t be hard and if it was any other situation he would find that funny but he loves her and he doesn’t care for how vulnerable her father has left his mate. If anyone else had gotten there before Klaus she could have been hurt and he would have had to kill her father for that, something he didn’t really want to do.

He knew that killing her parents would hurt her even if she says she hates them, therefore he wouldn’t be doing that but he also wanted James Barnes to know that his девочка was out there, alive…well…“Alive” and happy with another man and that he would never find her.

All Klaus needed to do now was create an environment that James would want or need to take his daughter to. He could compel someone to throw a party and depending on who it was he would have to bring his family or it would be insulting.

Having been invited into the house by his Princess, Klaus climbed his way through her open window and sat on her bed, stroking his fingers down her cheek. He was relieved to finally be able to touch her soft skin, even if he could only do so while she’s asleep, he would have her soon. It wouldn’t be hard to convince Y/n that he loved her and Klaus was thankful that she was his mate, he was saving her from getting hurt by a man in the future with much worse intentions and while Klaus’ intentions were to fuck her and keep her all for himself at least he knew that he would never cause her harm. He loves her. She is his mate, and he would care for his Princess for the rest of eternity.

Klaus would be her new Daddy.

And his little Baby would never be sad again.

Klaus Mikaelson Masterlist

[project-sonadow]

Fate?

Summary: Sonic never cared about soulmates, but in a world where everyone had a red string of fate wrapped around their finger, Sonic decided to wear gloves.

Read the rest below!

To put it bluntly, Sonic had never cared about soulmates.

He wasn’t exactly unique in this mindset. In this modern day and era, it was only slightly progressive to spend your entire life without ever meeting your other half, let alone devoting your life to them. Radical ideas, such as platonic soulmates, familial soulmates, or even soulmates being bad if you ended up paired with the wrong person were common talking points in the general public and media. That red string of fate which had governed entire lives in the past no longer seemed critical to most people.

Sonic didn’t care about any of that either. In fact, until he started hanging around populated human areas more often, he didn’t realize there was so much controversy about it. He always lived how he wanted, paying barely any attention to the subject. 

-

Sonic’s friends all had very different opinions about soulmates.

Tails was kind of like him, in that he didn’t care about the red string encircling his pinkie and leading to a far-off point in the distance- or, at least, he pretended not to. Amy had been heartbroken that she and Sonic weren’t soulmates, before deciding to prove to Sonic and the world that true love couldn’t be predetermined by fate (her words, not his). Knuckles didn’t want to leave his duty for long enough to find his soulmate, and had admitted to Sonic once that he felt bad for whoever his soulmate was. Cream was excited to find her soulmate when she got older, but wasn’t under any illusion that it was a requirement for happiness in life, considering that her own mother was forever trailed by her own cut string, dragging limply on the ground, and seemed just fine despite that. Blaze and Silver both viewed it as a luxury that they couldn’t indulge in (ironic, because their shared red string of fate was apparently strong enough to cross through time and dimensions). Vector didn’t care about it at all, considering that he had his eyes set on Vanilla. Espio thought it would get in the way of his “duties as a ninja”, whatever that meant. Charmy just didn’t like the idea of relationships in general. Rouge hated the concept in general, Shadow refused to talk about it, and Omega said he would refuse to accept his soulmate unless they were willing to help him destroy Eggman. Big had a gentle kind of apathy towards his string. Whisper didn’t talk much about the subject to begin with, and considering that she wore blocker gloves 24/7 people didn’t ask her about it. 

Tangle…

Well, it seemed like she was trying very hard to convince herself that she didn’t care about the idea of never finding her soulmate. 

“I just don’t get why everyone thinks it’s such a big deal, y’know. Like it’s great if you do find your soulmate, and in a tiny village like mine half the soulmates are paired up before they’re teenagers, but it’s not like you need to do it! My moms aren’t soulmates and they’re doing just fine!”

Tangle’s moms were currently divorced and trying to rekindle their relationship, but Sonic decided not to bring that up.

“And then we have to throw a huge stupid party everytime someone comes back from vacation with their soulmate in tow, and I just. Ugh. We all make such a big deal out of getting to choose how to live our own lives, but we’re all born with this stupid string around our pinkies and told to go off and find the other end. It’s so annoying.”

This probably wasn’t what was actually bothering her, Sonic thought. It was probably the fact that one day her string had stopped moving by itself, only responding to Tangle’s own body, and currently led to a forest in the middle of nowhere with nobody at the other end. It was probably the fact that her soulmate had apparently been the type of person to try on a pair of blocker gloves one day and then never take them off.

Sonic thought about Whisper. About the blocker gloves she never took off, the way she started fiddling with them whenever Tangle was around. The way she looked so anxious whenever Tangle grabbed her by the hand and started running, like she was scared Tangle would pull the glove clean off. The way Tangle and Whisper looked at each other, in general.

Like always, he wondered if he should tell Tangle what he thought.

Like always, he decided against it.

“If you want a huge stupid party, I can always just throw you one, soulmate or no soulmate,” he said instead. “Hell, if you really want, we could pretend that we’re soulmates just to rub it in your town’s face.”

Tangle fake-gagged, and Sonic took fake-offense to that.

“Like you’re one to talk, Mr. Celebrity,” she said, and Sonic drew himself back a little, spines involuntarily bristling. “Whenever people talk about soulmates you just roll your eyes and say some shit about ‘living free’ and ‘going with the flow’. Do you really not want to find your soulmate? It would be easy for you.”

Sonic rolled his eyes, and then instantly realized what he had done when Tangle started laughing at him. He hastily cleared his throat. “Don’t know if there’s anyone who would be able to keep up with me.”

“I know at least three people who can go about as fast as you can,” Tangle said, punching his shoulder lightly. “C’mon, if you really didn’t care that much you wouldn’t wear those stupid blocker gloves all the time.”

Oh, so she had noticed. “Eh, I mostly wear these because I tend to get mobbed by crazy  fangirls if I don’t. If I make it obvious I’m not really available then most people won’t attempt to tell me that they’re totally different from the hundreds of other people who have been convinced we’re meant to be over the years.”

Tangle narrowed her eyes at that. “Crazy fangirls? Like Amy?”

“Crazier.”

“Wow, scary,” Tangle said, and then moved on to talking about how her own friends had set up a Sonic fanclub once, and the conversation moved on from there, and Sonic was glad he didn’t have to talk about it anymore. 

-

So yeah, Sonic wore blocker gloves, and yeah, it was so he wouldn’t be harassed about the subject whenever he showed his face in public, or when journalists ambushed him on the streets, or people edited photos of him to make it seem like he had a thin red line coming down from his pinkie and leading to some stranger in the photo. It was convenient. It was easy.

It was even mostly the truth.

Sonic knew a couple other people who wore blocker gloves- Blaze studiously kept hers on to keep up a vaguely professional air, even when her cheeks flamed fire-red every single time Silver so much as existed in her general vicinity, Espio had his on so the string couldn’t get in the way of his “duties as a ninja” (seriously, what the hell did that mean), Vector occasionally wore them on the job and had made half-hearted attempts to get a pair for Charmy, which kept on being mysteriously lost. Rouge and Shadow both wore a pair, presumably because of their super-secret spy jobs that Sonic wasn’t supposed to know about (glowing red strings which could phase through any solid object would probably make hiding difficult, he figured), and Omega had found a way to simply turn his string off, somehow, which was more impressive and terrifying than anything else Sonic had seen him do. 

The only person Sonic knew who steadfastly refused to wear blocker gloves was Vanilla, despite the troubles she sometimes saw because of them. She was a single mother whose string had been cut by an untimely death, and she didn’t care who knew it. She lived each day of her life with a bright, happy, genuine smile on her face.

She was, so far, one of the only people who had ever seen Sonic with his gloves off. The only other person besides Tails, actually, who built his gloves in the first place. And the only person who hadn’t said a word to him about the subject, just cleaned the cut he had gotten on his palm and told him to keep himself safe.

He was grateful to her for that.

Rouge was Vanilla’s polar opposite, in regards to the string. She not only hid her string, she made a show of hiding it, commissioning custom blocker gloves and shoving the subject right back in the face of any poor soul who dared to question her about it. She had a million and one excuses for why she didn’t want to find her soulmate, all of them tiptoeing around the truth and never once touching on the actual reason why. She bragged about being able to date anyone she wanted even without showing her string off. She complained about not wanting to be tied down. She whined about how annoying societal expectations were. She crowed about the amount of people who desperately wanted to be her soulmate.

Sonic saw through all of this as the extravagant bullshit that it was, but he really had no idea what the actual reason was. Didn’t really care either. It wasn’t like she brought the subject up an annoying amount either, she was far more likely to yammer on for hours about her one and only actual love (jewels) than she was to start talking about literally any other subject (and if he could put up with the jewel talk, then he could put up with anything). 

It was just that sometimes when they hung out, people would get the wrong idea about them. Sonic and one of his friends (a woman at that), both with blocker gloves, spending time together, alone? It was apparently unthinkable to some that they could just be friends. So they both made a big joke out of it, Rouge flaunting how untouchable she was and Sonic pretending to be heartbroken. It made for some hilarious think pieces about how Sonic was a bad role model, at the very least.

Still, he didn’t want to deal with all of that every time they hung out, which was why Rouge had dragged Shadow along with them this time, mentioning that he owed her for something.

So here they were, sequestered away in a tiny café, Rouge and Sonic talking about everything and nothing, while Shadow was also there, sipping delicately at his tea while Sonic chugged his large chocolate milkshake and Rouge got whipped cream from her hot chocolate all over her face. 

Good times.

For once, the general populace seemed content to ignore them, at least for now, so the conversation went wherever it wanted to, Sonic and Rouge loud and energetic, Shadow quiet and solemn (despite the fact that there was nothing to be solemn about).

At least, nothing until Rouge spilled hot chocolate all over her glove. 

“Ohgoddamnitshit,” Rouge said, all in one breath, dabbing at the stain on her very expensive glove with a napkin, a small frown on her face, before it turned into an outright scowl. “Oh come on-”

She shifted her wrist, and Sonic saw what had bothered her so much. Some of the liquid must have gotten into some of the actual electronics in the glove and messed with it, because Sonic could now see Rouge’s string. Rouge’s cut string.

Rouge groaned, and then shoved her hand under the table, her head in her other hand. “Not. A. Word.”

She said it lightly, like Sonic and Shadow had just seen her do something embarrassing instead of accidentally revealing that her supposed other half was dead and buried, but Sonic could hear the threat in her tone, and he wasn’t going to tell anyone about it anyway. He mimed sealing his lips shut, Shadow just gave her a terse nod, and before either of them could do anything Rouge had thrown some cash onto the table and ran out the front door, presumably to go home, get a new pair of blocker gloves, and hide her face from them for at least a couple months.

Sonic put his chocolate shake down on the table. He had a feeling it wouldn’t taste anywhere near as good as it did a second ago.

“I know Rouge already said as much, but if you tell anyone else about that, you’ll regret it,” Shadow said, the threat in his far less concealed than Rouge’s had been.

“I won’t, jeez,” Sonic said. “I’m not an asshole. And I don’t care about soulmates either.”

Shadow just raised an eyebrow at him, and Sonic glared back half-heartedly. “Those gloves serve a purpose, Sonic.”

“I only wear these because I’m a celebrity for some reason, and people think that makes it okay to pry into every detail of my life.”

“‘For some reason’,” Shadow said, mostly to himself, sounding incredulous. “That can’t seriously be the only reason you wear them.”

Well, it wasn’t, but he wasn’t about to tell Shadow that. Especially when he had no idea what the other hedgehog thought about soulmates beyond just a general unwillingness to speak about the topic. He was born over 50 years ago and raised by a bunch of uptight scientists in literal outer space, so Sonic was curious if he had any different opinions from the general crowd he hung out with.

Shadow didn’t seem willing to share, so Sonic decided to push the issue. Just a bit. “Why do you wear blocker gloves?”

Shadow’s lips curled in a vaguely unpleasant way. “I don’t want to find my soulmate. That’s all.”

Well, that was an unsurprising and boring answer. “Okay, but what would you do if you met your soulmate and fell head-over-heels in love with them? Or if you’ve already met your soulmate, but didn’t know because of the gloves?”

“I wouldn’t fall in love with anyone. And I’m not even slightly concerned about the second possibility. There is nobody in my life who I would want to become my life partner.”

Sonic pouted at him, and something in his chest hurt, just a bit. “Nobody? Not even little old me?”

Shadow’s expression flickered, before it hardened again. “I hope, for your sake, that what you just said was a joke. I’m an immortal being, Sonic. My string will end up cut, at some point or another.”

“Hmm. Good point,” Sonic said. “Well, unless your soulmate is Omega, I guess.”

Shadow choked on his drink, and Sonic couldn’t help but grin like a maniac even as Shadow glared at him (it was less scary than normal, with tea dripping out of his mouth and into his chest fluff. He looked adorable. Sonic tried not to think about the fact that he thought Shadow was adorable). 

Sonic decided against talking about it anymore for his own health (Shadow had proved he was more than willing to suplex Sonic through a table if he annoyed him too much), so instead he just waited for Shadow to finish his tea before handing him some gold rings to pay for the half-drunken milkshake. Shadow glared at the rings like they offended him. “They don’t accept those as payment in human establishments.”

“My mistake,” Sonic said cheekily. “Guess I’m dining and dashing. The next date will be my treat.”

And then he dashed before Shadow could actually suplex him through the table.

-

Sonic didn’t leave the city when he left the café, instead opting to nap on the nearest rooftop before night fell. Whenever he visited the big cities he always made sure to stay off the streets themselves. With so many people all locked into one tiny area, the red strings, thin and frail as they were, became far too many, all at once, hundreds and thousands and millions of them all crisscrossing their way across every visible surface, choking his view and making it impossible to run unless he wanted to be half-blind. So he stuck to the rooftops, and waited for night so he could at least get a good view for his trouble.

At night, the streets of every city lit up, suffused with a red glow, invisible during the day but radiant when the sun went down. The strings varied in size, thickness, length, how strong they were, how much they were moving, but every single one of them, collectively, bound people together in the most literal way possible. If you had a soulmate, it was impossible to get rid of your string. It would remain there until the day you died, so most people still said it was better to try and use it, to find happiness with your other half.

Sonic didn’t put much stock in that idea. Or in the idea of other halves existing in the first place. Some of his friends called him an idealist for thinking so, but he had always believed that people were complete by themselves, and that finding someone else made them something more than just themselves. 

Shadow would probably call him an idealist for that, too. Even if he had a sneaking suspicion it was something close to what the other hedgehog thought.

Or maybe Shadow would just call him stupid. 

High on his chosen perch, Sonic surveyed the glove on his right hand. Tails had made it for him. It was mostly pure white, just like his old gloves, but with a thin ring of silver at the bottom which made its purpose obvious. It looked professionally made. To everyone except him and Tails, it even looked like it worked. 

When he removed it, his hands were bare, free from any string. He never had one in the past, and would probably never have one in the future. Sonic had learned a long time ago how people reacted when they realized he didn’t have a soulmate, and decided he hated it even back then. The gloves were a convenience, a way for him to avoid explaining himself, a preventative measure to stop everyone from looking at him like he was broken. 

Because Sonic wasn’t broken. He only needed himself, so even if fate said he was doomed to be alone he was perfectly fine with that.

Sonic thought back to Shadow, in the café. 

Well, there was a reason he had never put much stock in fate, either.

[akindplace]

For the past few days I kept posting several pictures of my dog asleep in her most treasured possession, her pillow. I never actually told you why she loves it so much. Some years ago, my mom saw a dog being rescued in the street with all her puppies. Turns out some of the people involved with rescuing her worked with my mom, and they decided to make a whatsapp group to help pay for vet bills and to find a place for her and her puppies. They found their home, but it’s harder to find homes for adult dogs, and she was very scared, and untrusting of people from living in the street her whole life.

They called her Valentina, because the name was very popular, but also because the word valente means brave in Portuguese.

She was in bad shape, thin, and with a skin condition. It would be hard to find a permanent home for her.

For whatever reason, my mom told me she wanted to foster the dog for a few days, until we found permanent shelter for her. Just a few days, she kept telling me. So the day comes, we took her in, my mom took her out for a walk, and when she came back, I looked outside and there she was sitting with Valentina on her lap. I asked her for how long the dog was really staying with us, and she said “if possible, forever”. I still don’t know why she wasn’t honest from the beginning because she knows how much I love animals; there was never going to be a way either of us would ever not want to keep her, anyway.

She was terrified of people, and would hide out under the car on her first days here, and it was hard to get close to her for a long while. But one of our dogs started playing with her, and slowly she would hang around us more. My mom felt bad because she would sleep on only a mat, so she gave the dog an old pillow and Valentina took that pillow as her favorite thing. But she would still run away if we came close to pet her while she was on her little bed.

Months later, Valentina finally sat next to me while I was eating to ask for a piece of my food (pão de queijo, because she has good taste). And I was so happy, I cried a little. It took over a year until she trusted us fully.

She learned how to ask for food, for treats, for pets. But she has also learned that in the morning, she wants us to take her pillow from its place my mom’s room and put it in the living room. And at night, she wants us to put the pillow back in my mom’s room. And she knows that if she sits in the specific spot for her bed and stares at us in judgement, we will bring her the pillow. It’s been years now. She is absolutely close with my mom, it almost seems she understands that my mom was the one who decided to adopt her. She got healthier, fatter, happier.

It took years of building trust, and now she lets us pet her, and doesn’t run away in fear. I don’t know what happened to her while she was living in the street but it made her so scared. But what matters is she found safety and belonging here. And everywhere she goes in this house, her little bed has to come along.

And sometimes, my other dog likes to lie down on Valentina’s bed (she has one of her own) and Valentina just stares at us with profound disappointment.

Life is good. I’m glad we could make a difference in her life, because she changed ours too.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA for telling someone i can't be friends with them and returning a gift?

buckle up gamers, this is gonna be a long one. so i (22nb but i present fem) was out at the bars the other night just kinda hanging out, and a girl (26f) came up and started talking to me. she didnt really seem...super present i guess? and i talked to her to be nice and she had a cool outfit on. well i was a little drunk and ended up giving her my phone number and meeting her husband (39m) and they walked me home. the whole time she was talking about how she doesn't have any friends and her ex friends just wanted to get with her husband. she told me she was bi and i was like hey me too but im not interested in sex so that was cool. she ended up walking me home w her husband bc it was late which was nice, but they seemed really shocked i lived in such a nice apartment(i do, its expensive but my parents pay for it. im really privileged to be able to do that).

i saw her again today because she kept texting me about wanting to hang out, so i went for ice cream with her bc it was in a public place and i wasnt super comfortable going back to her apt with her. i paid for her ice cream bc she said her card wasnt working, nbd bc my parents have money and her and her husband aren't really well off. i said she could pay me back sometime, buy me ice cream or whatever another day, but she really fixated on it. she told me her husband thought i was cute which made me a little uncomfortable but i laughed it of, and then she kept talking about how she was bi and would date a girl and how she approached me not to date but to be a friend and then 'see where it goes.' she also told me she did porn online to make money which is fine w me, that she's on disability but that the money isnt really enough to live on, and that she'd been raped in the past and drugged which yanno a little overshare-y considering ive known her for three days but she really seemed like she needed someone to talk to and im good at listening. well her husband showed up out of nowhere bc he apparently tracks her phone and we all went back to their apartment bc i couldn't say no(im a doormat. i know) and she ended up giving me two pieces of jewelry in return for buying her ice cream which felt a little like overkill. i tried to refuse but she said she wouldn't ever wear them again so it would be fine. it was really kind of her but now i kind of feel i owe her back for them. the whole time i was there they seemed really eager to get me to move in nearby, and while its true that area is definitely cheaper my parents are really fine paying for my expensive apartment bc my tuition is a lot cheaper than my sibling's. she and her husband walked me home again, mentioning they might be going on a cruise in november if they could save up the money and that they could bring a friend. i said id almost definitely have school which they seemed to accept. they kind of seemed to want to see my place, but i told them it was really messy(it is) i have anxiety around having people in my space(i do) and that maybe they could come up another day and i could make dinner, and she told me she didn't like people cooking for her bc she'd been drugged in the past and that i could go over to their apartment again instead.

my parents think theres some really big red flags going on and i should try to break this off sooner rather than later. i pretty much agree. im not gonna ghost her and they dont think i should either, but that i should somehow return the jewelry in a kind way and tell her i cant really be super close friends. my mom had the idea to draw myself wearing the jewelry and then say i still have a memory of it but to return it bc i cant accept such a nice gift which i could try to do.

to be clear i am shit at communication and setting boundaries, im very aware of that, and most of this can be solved by telling her hey i can't accept this gift and im really busy for school a lot and im sorry i cant be as much as a friend as you need. but i still kinda feel like tah for leading her on almost and then breaking it off like everyone else in her life. ive been under a lot of stress bc of school and my stepgrandmother passing and trying to take care of my grandfather so trying to be friends with someone that seems kind of high maintenance is not really tenable for me.

so, wibta if i tried to let her down gently?

What are these acronyms?

[imagobin]

🔯Zoldyck Family HCs🔯

I wish this had been explored more in the actual manga, because to me the Zoldyck family is one of the most intriguing things in HxH.

We did get this chart which is very interesting, but I wanted to expand on it with a couple more headcanons and speculations. Doesn't include Maha, Zigg or Grandma Zoldyck cause there's too little info on them (Seriously Zeno, where do you keep your wife?)

---

🪭Kalluto🪭

Starting with Kalluto because he's the youngest and also gets very little time to shine.

It is commonly agreed that he cares about Killua a lot and wishes he'd pay attention to him, and I think so too.

His relationship with Illumi is possibly one of mentor and apprentice, they go on missions together and Illumi supervises him to make sure he carries out assassinations properly, without toying with his victims too much.

We don't see him interacting with Milluki at all aside from flashbacks, but the two might have a pretty positive relationship. I think it still means a lot to Kalluto that his shut-in brother would take time out of his day to go on walks and play with him, even if that hasn't happened in a while.

As for his relationship with Silva and Zeno, I do like the idea of both father and grandpa being proud of Kalluto for mastering Nen at such a young age, though Silva might be a bit disappointed that Kalluto disobeyed him and became part of the Phantom Troupe.

---

🧸Alluka🧸

Such a sweetheart aaaa I wanna see more of her and Killua's future adventures.

Ever since her ability was discovered by the other members of the family, Alluka's either been used to get something (Looking at you, Milluki), or feared. Silva and Kikyo definitely fear her powers, and Zeno probably does too. Though... I have a weird feeling that unlike the rest of the family, Zeno would be like Killua and at least respect Alluka's pronouns, if she likes 'she/her', Zeno doesn't see the problem with referring to her as a girl.

I think Alluka on the other hand really wants to love the members of her family, despite how horribly they've treated her. She probably doesn't even understand why they all became so cautious around her at one point.

The only family member that Alluka does not like is Illumi for... pretty obvious reasons. Illumi isn't subtle at all with his desire to control her and her powers; plus, Illumi's hurt Killua the most, I don't think she could ever be okay with someone who's hurt her big brother so much (even by Zoldyck standards).

---

🪀Killua🪀

Not much to say about Killua since we see him interact with most of his family a bit more in-depth... aside from Kalluto-

Killua has definitely always favored Alluka over Kalluto, despite how much the youngest Zoldyck strives to get his attention. This is probably because of how close Kalluto is to his mom.

Killua finds Kikyo annoying, and definitely doesn't trust her, so since Kalluto spends a lot of time with their mother, by proxy, Killua can't bring himself to trust his younger brother either.

Aside from Alluka, whom he obviously trusts deeply, the other member of the family he trusts the most is probably his grandpa; Zeno clearly favors him and seems to be more supportive of Killua's choices compared to the rest of his family.

---

🎮Milluki🎮

Milluki my beloved, how I wish you weren't just the butt of a joke 90% of the time.

Physically speaking, he's probably the weakest Zoldyck besides Alluka, so he's most likely afraid of the other men in the family, and would definitely not want to get on their bad side.

He obeys and respects both Silva and Zeno, but I also think Milluki would like to be treated like Killua by his grandpa, that's why he shares his invention ideas with him; he wishes Zeno would praise him some.

Milluki is 100% a mama's boy, he cares about her so much, he definitely had the strongest reaction out of everyone when his mother's safety was threatened by Nanika's powers. Despite this, Kikyo doesn't seem to give him any particularly special treatment, again, that is reserved for Killua.

He's most definitely also the unlucky middle child, I think he was definitely put to the side once Killua was born; his family fully focused on Kil since he's the heir, and left Milluki to kinda do his own thing. I feel like this consequentially brought him to be jealous of Killua and all the attention he gets.

I swear he's even worse off than Kalluto, cause at least he's got his mother's love, Milluki's basically neglected even by Zoldyck standards.

---

📍Illumi📍

Man's the family's workaholic, you can't change my mind, he's also a little fucked up, but we love him for it.

He definitely cares about his whole family in his own twisted way. That includes Milluki too, they were the first two Zoldyck siblings so until Killua was born, they most definitely spent a lot of time together. Illumi doesn't really understand his brother, but he humors him.

His relationship with Kikyo is never really explored, but I see them as being definitely close, not as close as she is with Kalluto, but close. They share the same mindset when it comes to Killua. Illumi was also her first child, so she definitely poured her heart and soul into training him into being the perfect assassin, and it definitely shows.

Illumi's dynamic with his father and grandfather is definitely one of mutual respect, they may not agree on everything, but they trust each other's strength. Silva also appreciates Illumi's dedication to the family's business.

---

👒Kikyo👒

M'lady- okay no girl needs to take a chill pill, her fashion tho, on point.

Obviously her view of love is completely warped, growing up in Meteor City and marrying a world-renowned assassin didn't do her mental health many favors. But just like Illumi, she does love her kids deeply in a really twisted way.

She plays favorites, Killua and Kalluto are the ones she cares about the most, and with how dismissive of Milluki she is, he's probably her least favorite, kinda tragic since Milluki loves his mother a lot... but then we have Illumi, where does he stand? Kikyo cares about her first born child of course, she's very proud of him, and trusts him a lot with keeping Killua in check, since they seem to share opinions on how he should be trained. She wishes he'd spend more time with her for sure.

Her opinion however is way too often brushed off by Silva, not because she's a woman, but because she's not been raised like a Zoldyck, she doesn't fully know their ways, so she's not seen as a valid voice. It's an unfair treatment, and it really pisses her off.

---

☄️Silva☄️

True winner of the 'Father of the Year' award, along with Ging, great job you two.

Silva honestly has evil mastermind vibes, he cares about Killua, but also wants to constantly control him and test him in his own way (the needle was a massive proof of that). He's just a lot more subtle with it compared to Illumi and Kikyo.

He loves his wife, no doubt, even if he doesn't show it very often, I think the man is prone to small displays of love, and definitely shows it more with his actions than his words. (Him agreeing to let Alluka out of her room because he doesn't want Kikyo to die is definitely the biggest display of this we've seen canonically, he's aware of how dangerous Alluka's powers could be, but he still chose to risk the consequences of that over sacrificing his wife).

His relationship with his other kids is not really explored that much, but I believe he's mostly satisfied with all of them. I don't think he's super disappointed in Milluki either, but he definitely doesn't expect much of him, he does wish he'd take things more seriously.

---

🐲Zeno🐲

My favorite anime old man! I really wish people would pay more attention to him, he's cool as hell.

Zeno is probably the most chill man in the family, maybe cause he's old, but he's definitely the least likely to snap back at any of his family members.

He has a very strong set of morals, with him not wanting to cause any unnecessary deaths and all. I feel like because of this, he silently disapproves of Illumi's ways, especially regarding his Needle People, and the older brother's desire to control Killua.

Zeno doesn't really think much of Kikyo, he acknowledges her skills and such, but doesn't really go out of his way to interact with her. These two have definitely had their disagreements, mostly because Zeno tends to act on his own without consulting anyone, let alone her, which inevitably angers Kikyo.

He is quite proud of all his grandchildren, even if he's mostly focused on Killua. Much like Silva, he is happy that Kalluto mastered Nen at such a young age. He also sees more potential in Milluki, but wishes he was more committed to the family's business and used his genius to its full potential.

---

[e-hv]

Why

This is a repost cause i deleted all my fics

part 2

Major warning if you have mommy issues or daddy issues or parental neglect issues pls do not read this

and if you do read this pls don't blame me for anything, including but not limited to excessive crying/sobbing, a depression slump/ wanting to kill someone or anything else

Or if you're name Sarah

Alexia Putellas X Child!Reader

Tw: Negelct, Angst

Summary: Why does she not keep her promises

"Why do I keep reaching out to you, hoping for some semblance of acknowledgment, only to be met with silence and indifference?

“Mami, I made it into the school’s football team.” Ten year old you was very excited to tell Alexia that you made the football team. She was on her computer watching replays of her matched yesterday, she promised you she would fetch you from school toady but instead of her your helper was there. But you told yourself it was okay because Mami was busy and you could just tell her the good news when you got home. When you told her the news, she looked at you and asked you not to bother her while she was working, and that she’ll talk to you during dinner. So you went to your room to do your schoolwork. When you finally finish all your school work and extra revision, you went out of your room to find your Mami,but she wasn’t there so you asked your helper. She said Alexia, went out to meet up with friends. After dinner, you decide to wait up for her and read a book in the mean time, by the time she got backed you were almost done with the book and was really sleepy. But you still ran up to her and greet her, she pushed you away telling you that she was too tired and went to her room to sleep. You went back to your room, sitting on your bed, holding your book tightly, you couldn't help but wonder why Mami didn't seem to care about you. Why did she always ignore you when you just wanted her to notice you and be proud of you? Why did you keep trying to talk to her, hoping she would finally pay attention to you, even though she never did?

Tears welled up in your eyes as you whispered to yourself, "Why couldn’t she be proud of me like the moms in the stories are of their children?”

Why do I continue to bend over backwards to fulfill your every request, knowing deep down that you're just putting on a facade for others?

“Mami, can I go to the arcade with my friends it’s the last day of school, and we want to do something fun together.” You were now eleven, older then ten but still young enough to think Alexia could change. Alexia had just came home from training,but she was on the phone with someone so she told you to quiet down. You sighed and walked to your room to put down your bag and change into something comfortable. You decide to do your work as you thought if you finished it your Mami would let you go out with your friends. When you heard Alexia said her goodbyes to whoever was on the phone. You opened your room door and called for her, and reapeated the question adding in the fact that you finished your school work. She said you weren’t allowed to go out today and you could go out with them tomorrow instead, you tried to explain to her that most of your friends would be out of the country but she said you shouldn’t argue with her as she was your mother, and that she had a reason for saying no. You asked her what the reason was and she said her teammates were coming over for teambuilding and she wanted you to help bring them drinks and buy food and snacks for them. You just nodded your head and said yes knowing there was no use arguing. By the time you got back her teammates were already there, you heard her teammate, Ingrid, compliment how good you are. But your Mami just dismissed it and said that it was just how you were. Her other teammate Lucia asked her if you played football, Alexia laughed and said she didn’t think so. Feeling a lump form in your throat, you dropped the bag of snacks to the floor, causing concern from the adults. You assured them you were fine and quietly announced to your mom that you were going to bed, your heart heavy with disappointment and a growing understanding of the reality of your relationship.

When you stepped into your room, the weight of disappointment and frustration became too much to bear. You collapsed onto your bed, letting the tears flow freely as you allowed yourself to finally break down. The floodgates of emotion opened, releasing the pent-up feelings of rejection, loneliness, and hurt that you had been holding back. With each sob, you felt a little bit of the burden lift from your shoulders, yet the ache in your heart remained, a constant reminder of the unmet longing for your mother's love and approval.

Why do I lie to those around me, insisting that your absence isn't your fault, when I know it is?

“Miss Sánchez, my mom can’t make it to my graduation, because she has some work issues.”

You were now 12 and graduating from Primary school, you knew you weren’t telling the truth but it was technically not a lie either. Your teacher asked if you wanted her to speak to your mom to ask her to come but you said it was okay and you knew your mom was busy that day. Your best friend, Zoe, did not believe you and asked you to tell her why your mom couldn’t come. You told her that she was just busy and that it wasn’t her fault because she was the captain and she had to help her teammates. Zoe said it was bullshit, and you agreed but you just couldn’t bring yourself to say it after all she was still your mom. Zoe asked you again why she actually couldn’t come and you finally told her the truth, that your Mom was training another girl the same age as you, and that the girls graduation was the same day as yours but her parents couldn’t make it so your mom promised the girl she would go instead. When the day of the graduation came, you didn’t even see Alexia in the morning as she said she was going to get breakfast with the girl, you looked in the mirror and thought to yourself,” Why didn’t she remember or keep or the promises she made for me but keeps the promises she makes for this girl. She didn’t even remember the fact she promise you she would be at your graduation, two weeks ago.”

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the day you'd confront her, letting the anger and hurt fuel your determination to rise above her absence. You knew you deserved better, and you vowed to become stronger, despite her shortcomings. Why do I constantly make excuses for your shortcomings, even though you never bother to show up for me?

And you... why do you harbor such animosity towards me that you refuse to even acknowledge my existence anymore?

“Hey, have you talk to your mom about the road trip yet?” Zoe asked. You said you haven’t had the time to, but the truth was your Mom was spending more time with Elena the girl whose graduation she went to and missed yours as a consequence, and hadn’t been talking to you for about a week , if you were still twelve you would have been sobbing your eyes out but you were now thirteen and realize what your mom was truly like to you. The only interaction you had was when she gave you money or you gave her something to sign, not that you didn’t try on your part you send her messages asking her if she wanted to go out for breakfast, lunch, dinner or even to just kick the ball around but she didn’t see it much less respond to it or said yes. You even resorted to leaving notes on the table but when you came back home instead of seeing a reply the note was in the trash. You were very sure she wouldn’t even notice your gone as the road trip was only for a week, and you wanted to test out your theory. So you asked her to give you a weeks worth of allowance when you finally saw her and agreed, probably because it meant she wouldn’t have to interact more with you.

When you came back from the road trip, you found that your theory was sadly accurate. Your mom hadn't even noticed you were gone. There were no inquiries about your trip, no excitement to hear about your adventures, no concern for your well-being. It was as if you had never left.

At first, the realization stung. You couldn't understand why your own mother seemed to harbor such animosity towards you, why she couldn't spare a moment to acknowledge your existence. But as the days passed, you began to accept the truth: your relationship with your mom was not what you had hoped it would be. She was more invested in Elena, more interested in her life and her accomplishments, than she was in yours.

It hurt, of course it did. But you were thirteen now, no longer the naive twelve-year-old who believed that her mom's love and attention were guaranteed. You knew better. And so, with a heavy heart but a steely resolve, you made a silent vow to yourself: you wouldn't waste any more time trying to win your mom's affection.

What did I do to deserve such disdain from my own flesh and blood?

“I didn’t do anything wrong Mom, she tried to take my necklace!” You tried explaining to your , mom. But she didn’t listen to you instead taking away your necklace and giving it to Elena, and telling her to go to the living room. Elena acted like an angel in front of her saying it was okay but when she walked out and your mom’s back was facing towards her she gave you a smirk as if saying now you know who she loves more. You tried explaining the situation again, but your mom said she didn’t want to listen to you and that she was so disappointed that she raised such a selfish and jealous daughter. You wanted to protest and state your case but you gave up knowing there was no point, you were now fourteen you told yourself it would just be four years until your out of this emotional hell hole and you would be with the person who treated you like her actual daughter. The person who gave you the necklace Elena took.

What flaw in me is so repulsive that you would rather speak to her than to me, your own daughter?

“Mom, can I talk to you about football tatics,?” you asked. You asked Alexia about football tactics, hoping to bond over something you both enjoyed, but she brushed you off, claiming she was too busy. You said it was okay and continued to read, when you heard the phone ring, Alexia had answered with a “Hola,Pequeña” and you knew she was talking to Elena, as Elena was the only one she called Pequeña, she defiteniley didn’t call you that or anyother nickname in the first place. Hell she doesn’t even acknowlege your her daughter unless she’s scolding you and telling you how she couldn’t believe she raised you.

Feeling rejected once again, you retreated to your room, wondering what flaw in you was so repulsive that your own mother would rather speak to someone else.

You lay on your bed, staring at the ceiling, the weight of her indifference pressing down on you like a heavy blanket.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you tried to make sense of the situation, to understand what was so wrong with you that she would rather speak with her instead. But you went to your bathroom wipe your tears, and reminded your self you were now fifteen and that when you were twelve you vowed to yourself that you would no longer allow Alexia's indifference to define you.

And despite all the hurt and disappointment you've caused, why do I still cling to the hope that one day, you'll finally be there for me, even though you've never shown any inclination to do so in the past?

“Mom, I have an important football match today, can you come to support me?” You asked, your voice tinged with a flicker of hope despite the years of disappointment weighing heavy on your heart.

Alexia glanced up from her phone, her expression distant as she muttered something about being busy and needing to focus on her and Elena’s own training. The familiar sting of rejection pierced through you once again, but you quickly masked your disappointment with a forced smile.

Deep down, you knew better than to expect her to show up. You knew the pattern all too well — your mother's absence, her lack of interest in your life, her constant prioritization of others over you. But still, despite the overwhelming evidence to the contrary, a small part of you clung to the hope that maybe, just maybe, this time would be different.

As you made your way to the football field, your heart heavy with the weight of unmet expectations, you tried to push aside the nagging doubts and convince yourself that today would be the day she finally showed up for you. But deep down, you knew the truth — that no matter how much you wished for her presence, she would never be there to cheer you on, to celebrate your victories, or to comfort you in your defeats.

And yet, despite all the hurt and disappointment she had caused, despite the countless times she had let you down, you couldn't help but cling to the hope that one day, she would finally be there for you. It was a hope born from a deep-seated longing for a mother's love and approval, a hope that refused to die despite the harsh reality of your relationship. Even though you promise yousrelf that you would stop, but this was her last chance, you were now seventeen but was turning eighteen soon and she didn’t take it, so you knew your decision.

After the game, that you won, you looked into the stands even though you knew no one would be there to your surprise, the women you met at a match your mom played, who then became the person who treated you like her actual daughter was there.

Her warm smile and enthusiastic applause filled you with a sense of validation and belonging that you had longed for but never received from your own mother.

As you made your way over to her, she enveloped you in a tight hug, congratulating you on your victory and praising your performance on the field and telling you that she couldn’t wait until you joined her to play in arsenal. The person who treated you like her actual daughter and the person you call Ma when you talked to, was Leah Williamson. In that moment, surrounded by her genuine affection and support, you felt a sense of relief wash over you — a sense of relief that you no longer needed to rely on your mother's approval to feel valued and loved.

I just wish one day I'll have enough courage to let go of the futile longing for your love and acceptance, and to find the strength to accept that you may never change, no matter how much I yearn for your presence in my life.

“You ready to go yet?” Your Ma asked you. You told her to give you a few minutes, you look around your now barren room, all the memories flooding back.

The first time you made it into a football team,

"Mom, I made it into the school’s football team."

"That's nice, honey," Alexia replied absentmindedly, her eyes glued to the screen.

"But you promised you'd pick me up today," you reminded her, your excitement dampened by her lack of attention.

"I know, sweetie, but something came up. The helper will take care of you," she said, barely sparing you a glance.

Disappointed but hopeful, you waited until dinner to share your news, hoping for a moment of connection.

"Not now, I'm busy," Alexia brushed you off, immersed in her work.

Crestfallen, you retreated to your room, the weight of her indifference pressing down on you.

"Why doesn’t she care?" you whispered to yourself, tears welling in your eyes. "Why can't she just be proud of me?"

The last day of school when you were eleven,

"Mami, can I go to the arcade with my friends? It’s the last day of school," you asked, longing for a moment of fun.

"Not today, darling," Alexia replied, her attention divided between you and her phone call.

"But I finished all my work," you protested, desperate for her approval.

"I said no. End of discussion," she declared, her tone final.

Defeated, you resigned yourself to another night at home, your heart heavy with disappointment.

Your graduation when you were twelve,

"Mom, why can't you come to my graduation?" you asked, masking the hurt in your voice.

"I have a work commitment, sweetie," Alexia replied, her words ringing hollow.

"But you promised," you whispered, the weight of her broken promises crushing you.

As the day of your graduation arrived, you watched as Alexia left to attend another girl's ceremony, leaving you behind.

"Why does she always choose someone else over me?" you wondered, the sting of rejection burning deep.

When Elena took your necklace, and she took her side,

"I didn’t do anything wrong, Mom," you insisted, your voice trembling with emotion.

"I don't want to hear it," Alexia cut you off, her disappointment palpable.

"Why won't you listen to me?" you pleaded, tears streaming down your cheeks.

As you stood in your room, the silence echoed around you, a painful reminder of your mother's absence.

"Mom, please," you begged, your voice breaking with emotion.

But there was no answer, only the emptiness of your own heartache.

With all this memories flooding back to you, you decided to write her a letter,

Dear Alexia,

As you can see i’m no longer calling you mom. Since I was ten i’ve been making excuses as to why you didn’t care for me, I remember the times when I reached out to you, hoping for even a semblance of acknowledgment, only to be met with silence and indifference. Like when I excitedly told you I made it into the school's football team, only to have you brush me off, too busy with your own affairs to spare a moment for me. Or when I asked if I could go to the arcade with my friends, hoping for a moment of fun together, only to be shut down without a second thought.

I've bent over backwards to fulfill your every request, hoping against hope that maybe this time, you would see me, truly see me, and be proud of me. But time and time again, I've been met with disappointment and heartache.

I've lied to those around me, insisting that your absence isn't your fault, when deep down, I know it is. I've made excuses for your shortcomings, trying to shield you from judgment, even though you've never bothered to show up for me.

And I've wondered, time and time again, what flaw in me is so repulsive that you would rather speak to someone else than to me, your own daughter. I've cried myself to sleep, wondering why you harbor such animosity towards me, why you refuse to even acknowledge my existence anymore.

But despite all the hurt and disappointment you've caused, I still cling to the hope that one day, you'll finally be there for me. That one day, you'll see me for who I am and love me unconditionally, just like in the stories.

But I've come to realize that hope can be a dangerous thing, especially when it's placed in someone who may never change. So I'm writing this letter to let you know that I no longer need to cling to that hope. I no longer need to yearn for your love and acceptance, because I've found it elsewhere.

I've found it in the woman who treated me like her own daughter, who was there for me when you weren't. I've found it in the friends who have stood by me through thick and thin. And most importantly, I've found it within myself.

I hope that I have fulfil your wished that I no longer disappoint you as I’m no longer your problem or yours’s anymore as I finally have enough courage to let go of the futile longing for your love and acceptance, and to find the strength to accept that you may never change, no matter how much I yearn for your presence in my life

So ,

this is goodbye

Sincerely,

Y/N

[fuck-customers]

This one isn't necessarily horrible, but the intensity of this lady was weird, but kind of funny in hindsight.

A woman comes up to the register with some Bluey merchandise. I go into my usual spiel "hi how are you? Find everything ok? Blah blah blah" She tells me that she's buying the Bluey stuff for her toddler daughter's birthday. I feign polite interest. Pretty insignificant transaction.

Until she asks me if I had ever seen the show.

I answer honestly. "I haven't. I've heard of it and I see the merch a lot, but it seems a bit young for me and I don't have any children to watch it with."

"Oh you should give it a shot! It's not just for kids, it has parts adults can enjoy as well."

"Really? Maybe I'll check it out when I have a chance."

"You REALLY should try it! It's very good. Bluey's mom is in it and [very detailed background on this show that I honestly could not remember even if I wanted to. She talked for at least 3 minutes nonstop]"

I'm desperately trying to get her to pay and finish this transaction because a line is forming. "That sounds like a cute show, actually. Your total is $47.82. Would you like a bag?"

She's not listening and goes on about Bluey for another minute or so.

Try to bring her attention back to paying again. Doesn't work. Ask again twice. Finally get her to pay and as she's leaving, she calls out "you really should watch it! I mean it! It's a good show!"

Uh ok

TL;DR: Bluey disguised himself in drag to convince a random childless 27 year old to watch his show. Sadly, it did not work.

I think it's the Australian accents that are making it so popular. All I have to say about it is the dad is the most patient character ever written.

-Rodney