#can imagine they’ll be doing more than braiding each other’s hair

[bbytamaki]

more random obey me headcanons >:)

content: sfw headcanons, scars mentioned (from piercings), belphie has depression, all family love <3, not proofread >:((

note: i haven’t done any dateable hcs yet :(( might do some soon

— lucifer can’t stand bananas. it’s just a thing. even the smell will have him pressing his handkerchief over his mouth like a sick victorian man. does satan use this to his advantage? possibly.

— has very feminine hands. he covers them with gloves so he doesn’t have to hear asmo’s jealous whining. if anyone brings it up he’s not above strangling them with his dainty, girlish fingers.

— flexible. like shockingly. it doesn’t really come to light that often but every once in a while lucifer follows single mom yoga videos on the weekends.

— mammon has the prettiest facial features ever. like his eyes and lips look so good in candid photos. his magazine covers are the bane of asmo’s existence.

— bird tendencies. like i mean squawking and jumping like 3 feet in the air when startled. in his demon form he’s just a big parrot. he does the head tilt thing when he’s confused.

— if anyone stands in front of him for longer than a minute he’s picking lint out of their hair and fixing their clothes. his brothers have gotten more than used to his “preening” and either avoid standing around him for too long or just take it. lucifer does this too and sometimes they’ll just stand and fix each other’s clothes for like 5 minutes straight while everyone else is like “???”

— levi is tall. very tall. he’s just so scrawny and lanky and his posture is awful so you wouldn’t even notice until he actually straightens up to his full height. this rarely ever happens unless he’s in his demon form. when it does he is scary.

— cosplays online. his cosplay friends are some of his favorite people. he already sews his own costumes (as we’ve seen), and he’s really good at makeup. one of his future plans is to meet up in the human world to go to a con with his friends.

— screams like a little girl. one time mammon accidentally walked into the bathroom when levi was showering and he shrieked. lucifer ran to see what the commotion was because “how did a human child find their way into the devildom??” levi has never felt more embarrassed.

— satan watches trashy reality tv in his private time. bad girls club, keeping up with the kardashians, you name it.

— can sing the whole periodic table song by tom lehrer forward and backward. i think satan is actual really good at science and it would be his best and favorite subject.

— he just likes animals in general. he has a thing for bunnies after visiting a human world petting zoo.

— asmo has an abnormally long tongue, like surpassing attractive and approaching freakish. he usually keeps it in his mouth but once every so often decides to creep solomon out just for fun.

— has soooo many stripper friends. if you’re wondering how his hair and makeup stay in place the whole day, he learned from the best.

— he definitely designed an entire line of lingerie but only made one of each design. they’re ultra rare collectibles in the devildom and worth more than you could imagine.

— beel can french braid and make friendship bracelets like he’s going to a girl scout camp. nobody can tell me he didn’t hand make the necklaces he wears.

— speaking of martha stewart beel, he can crochet and makes blankets and cute plushies for belphie all the time.

— luke is actually his little brother and no one can convince him otherwise lol they go back and forth over nothing all the time and stop talking to each other until one of them says “what do you want for dinner”

— belphie is the king of doing his own piercings at home because why pay $50 for something he already knows how to do? he ends up taking some of them out before they heal because he gets tired of them and ends up with a bunch of scars on his face and body.

— you and beel are his dream journal. he texts the attic club gc after every nap to tell you guys what his latest dream was about. (you’re the two people that show up in his dreams the most.)

— goes absolutely dormant during depressive episodes. the complete opposite of his twin brother (beel has to keep busy at all times to stay distracted). asmo carries him to his private bathroom and lets belphie pick his favorite soaps and lotions (he likes the ones that smell like sandalwood, they remind him of taking naps in his brothers’ rooms).

[catihere]

I hope I'm not distracting you from some important things, but I have some questions for you :)

I will be glad if you answer.

1. What songs do you associate with Kore?

2. What do you think of her friendship with Ethan?

3. Do you have any other headcanons about her?

4. Who do you think her second love could be?

5. What would they say about her in the camp if they found out that Kronos has an oracle and an adviser? [given that they know very little about her, she is most likely a girl and she sees the future. I don't think the camp will even know her name.]

6. What do you think she thinks about her brother Hal Green and how does she feel about him?

7. How would the Apollo cabin treat her if she could still meet them?

@kore-pythia-hayashi

OMGGG!! Thank you so much for the ask. I really love your character and I’m glad you’re interested in my opinions on her. So, let’s see…

1. There are a good bunch of songs that remind me of Kore. In fact, I was working on a playlist for her, and some songs I included are Class of 2013 by Mitski (her, Ethan’s and Alabaster’s song I think), Astronomy by Conan Gray, Family Line by Conan Gray, Army Dreamers by Kate Bush, Two birds by Regina Spektor, Goodbye my danish sweetheart by Mitski, Second child, restless child by the Oh Hellos. There might be more, but I can’t remember them at the moment.

2. Kore’s and Ethan’s friendship is my Roman Empire you don’t even know. They understand each other in a very special way, they have a certain complicity and closeness established by their similar (and deeply unfortunate) fates. They both bear the knowledge of their final martyrdom, but manage to find a bit of solace in each other, knowing that they’ll end up in similar ways. Kore tries to act as a beacon to Ethan, to advise him and pull him from some of his distorted views, sometimes not realizing that she’s on a similar track as him… Ethan sympathizes with her, attemps to help her however he can, sometimes feeling guilty for burdening her with his own struggles. To sum it up, yes, they’re both sad, angry and tragic, and they bond over this. (Oh, I also like the detail of their shared Japanese heritage. A lot of cute things that could spring from that)

3. Hmmm…A lot of headcanons I’ve already highlighted in my art. But I have to mention that she’s clearly a big animal lover and has helped Chris and Alabaster sneak some pets onto the ship before… yes, it’s a long story. I have an unposted fic about it…

I also have a feeling that her eyes would be particularly eerie, beautiful, but strange at the same time. I imagine her irises being a bit larger than a mortal’s, with pupils that fade into the rest of her eye. And her eyes are a striking, icy blue, contrasting with the warmth of her body.

Also! She stima by braiding and unbraiding her hair. Just a little thought :>

4. I’ll have to restrain myself from speculating on this. I feel like it would be a very big part of her arc to gain the courage to love somebody after the tragedy of Callum, and only you, her creator, are in measure to decide who.

5. Word would pass very quickly around camp. There would be a certain distain against her, as “traitors” are not quite aprecciated among the campers. But there would also be sympathy, and interest. Who is this girl? Who made her join the Army? Did Luke manipulate her, too? And why is she one of the extremely few demigods with prophetic abilities? She’d be quickly tracked back to the Apollo cabin, as they’re the only ones known to have a slight foreseeing of the future. And some people might try to gain information about her from the other children of Apollo, but obviously with no success.

6. I’m sure that she’s compassionate of Hal Green and his fate, admirative of his sacrifice and extremely close to her brother despite never meeting him. But there’s also a sense of uncertainty surrounding Halcyon… Could have he done anything differently, to prevent the death of so many children? No, no is the most realistic answer, but there’s still something about the wicked game of fate that defined his life that unsettles Kore. In any way, Halcyon deserved better, so much better, and knowing his story might have been one of the aspects that started Kore’s fury at the god’s unfairness.

7. Well… it depends what moment they would have met her. Most likely a mix of empathy for her situation and lack of trust due to her history with Kronos. How could she go against her own siblings?

Wow, this post got really long… I really hope you enjoy my answers and that they were worth the wait 💛

[dragonologist-phd]

Owlcatober Day 31 - Owlcat

Owlcatober 2023 Day 31 - Owlcat

also on ao3

Ophelia squirms in place as her mother brushes and braids her hair. It’s taking a long time- her hair is long, and she likes it that way, because her father can braid ribbons through it for fancy parties. But days like this, she just wants to chop it all off.

“Hurry, Mama,” she says, wiggling her shoulders. “If I’m late, they’ll leave without me.”

“No, they won’t,” her mother replies. “And it’ll take me even longer if you don’t hold still.”

“They will. Matty says he’s gonna do it all the time.”

“But Ronan and Ana never let him, do they?”

Ophelia pouts and crosses her arms. Her mother might technically be right, but that doesn’t change the fact that Ophelia’s cousins are all older than her, and she can’t be the one making them all wait. In a deep voice- an imitation of her father- she declares, “There’s a first time for everything!”

It just makes her mother laugh, while her father turns away from his mirror, his own hair half-styled.

“Was that supposed to be me?”

“Yeah. You say it all the time.”

A rapping at the window interrupts her father’s reply, and Ophelia smiles at the sound of Midnight tapping her head insistently against the glass pane.

The owlcat isn’t black, which Ophelia disapproves of. She thinks any animal named Midnight should be inky-black, but their Midnight is tawny brown and flecked with gray. According to her mother, Midnight was so named because ‘that was the time the damn thing woke me up every night before we finally took her in’.

Midnight still has a habit of clawing at the windows, but Ophelia has never minded. The owlcat is practically her best friend.

At the sound of her best friend’s attempts to get inside, Ophelia throws her hand out and focuses her will. The window snaps open in response, and Midnight happily skitters inside, winging across the room to land in Ophelia’s lap. She nips at Ophelia’s hands, and Ophelia can’t help wiggling again.

“See? Even Midnight is ready to go!”

Her mother ties off her braid and lifts her hand. “There, there. I’m done.”

Ophelia leaps to her feet and hurries to the door, her bag in one arm and Midnight in the other. “ThanksI’llseeyoulaterbye!”

“Hold on!”

Ophelia’s escape is halted once more as her mother takes hold of her shoulder and spins her around so they’re facing each other. Her mother’s smile is warm, but she’s wearing that listen to me look that Ophelia knows quite well, so she does her best not to fidget as she looks up into the brown eyes that are so much like her own.

(Ophelia knows she looks a lot like her mother, except that her Mama’s long brown hair is streaked with gray, and she never wears it in braids. Still, Ophelia’s father likes to say that she’s her mother’s spitting image, which Ophelia thinks sounds kind of gross.)

Her Mama tugs teasingly at Ophelia’s braids now, and smiles fondly as she says, “Make sure to be back before dark, okay? I mean it. Your father and I will be out late at a military council meeting, but we’ll be back before your bedtime. Until then, Ronan is in charge. Okay?”

“Yes, Mama.”

“Tell me- who’s in charge?”

Ophelia groans. She ran off on her own once, and she’s never heard the end of it. “Ronan.”

“And when will you be back home?”

“Before dark.”

“And you, Midnight,” her father cuts in, addressing the owlcat sternly, “you make sure she remembers that.”

The owlcat in Ophelia’s arms meows in acknowledgement, as Ophelia groans. “Guys!”

“Okay, okay.” Her mother kisses her forehead, then waves her out the door. “Go have fun, sweetheart. Love you.”

“Love you, too!” Ophelia shouts over her shoulder, already running down the path to meet her cousins. She wills her short legs to move faster, thinking about all she’ll do today- and maybe it’s her imagination, but the world does fly by just a little more swiftly.

Rosemary watches from the window as her daughter runs off, a strange combination of worry and affection rising in her chest.

“She’s too much like you,” she comments to Varn. “Always rushing off and wanting to get into trouble.”

“Oh, and she gets that completely from me?” Varn teases. He moves to Rosemary and wraps his arms around her shoulders, quiet for a moment as they both watch Ophelia disappear down the road. “You’re not wrong about the trouble part, I admit. And her magic’s getting stronger, to boot.”

“I’ll say. I think she’s casting a Haste spell on herself right now. Like I said- always in a hurry.”

“We’ll have to get her a magic tutor soon.”

“If she’ll sit still long enough for that,” Rosemary says, shaking her head. “And if they even know how to teach her.”

The source of Ophelia’s powers is still something of a mystery. Rosemary knows her bloodline isn’t pure human- her sister is a tiefling, after all- but as far as she knows none of her relatives have ever shown signs of sorcery. Nor have Varn’s. Rosemary wonders, sometimes, if the First World left some strange trace in her that now lives in her daughter. More impossible things have happened.

Varn can feel her tense as the thoughts run through her mind, and he kisses her on the cheek. “We’ll figure it out. We always have before.”

“True,” Rosemary admits, leaning back against her husband. “We’re pretty good at figuring things out.”

They are. Together, they’ve built a strong home, a loving family. Rosemary loves her husband and her child and her work for Varnhold.

And though she may worry, she knows Varn is right. Whatever life decides to throw at them in the future, it won’t be anything they can’t handle.

[borreloadsavagedragon]

Of course I have to ask for Kaito, but also, the Arclights :3c

Oh boy........ I did mr Tenjo already, so it's time for the drama club family

First impression: Honestly... I was a little bit terrified! I knew how beloved all of them were and I was waiting for one of them to ruin my life lowkey, so definitely a little terrified

Impression now III: My favorite Arclight, I want to protect him and also let him throw swords at my enemies for the rest of my life and his, I love that's he's the definition "call an ambulance! but not for me!!!!" IV: I hope Thomas IV Arclight is very pissed that Kaito's my favorite Zexal character; surprisingly, even tho he's my kind of crazy, I'm not rly a huge fan of him in canon, but more the idea of him? If that makes sense, like I like him but he ranks surprisingly low compared to most of the cast because I wasn't too big on how his character was handled, sweats nervously V: I love you and I think you’re very a interesting character, but I really want to pull hard on your long beautiful hair sometimes because you have no right, please wear your hair in a braid again though, that was a LOOK Tron: A Yugioh Dad tm, no real feelings one way or another, but I'm glad he came around for his boys, compared to other token parents in this franchise he ranks surprisingly high! I imagine he destroys all three of them in Mario Kart

Favorite moment III: Throwing a whole ass sword at Mr Heartland omfg, WHY DID IT MISS!!!! WE COULD HAVE BEEN SAVED!!!!!!!!! He also was never leaving Yuma's side after Astral sacrificed himself and that's gjdsklagjklgjdsklga IV: I’m torn between his duel with Nasch because he’s just such a freak how he talks sometimes, and I also love how he just… goes all out against a pair of middle schoolers, like there was never a hinge on him to begin with💀 I also love that Thomas is introduced as this celebrity, champion duelist but NEVER wins against a named character that isn't one of Yuma's background friends or in a tag with someone else gjdaskljgdklsaj, accidental cringe king V: I really like the arctic moments, specifically when he makes this face

Tron: Being an absolute menace at the WDC second round party fjdhdhdh, you can just tell he’s the father of the other three

Idea for a story: I have no idea honestly fjehdjje, they’re usually just recurring characters or background in the drafts I have But I do love writing my friends’ oc and canon pairs so they’ll usually get the focus in those, which I gotta finish the Vkou one soon 👁👁👁👁

Unpopular opinion: SWEATS I've never been shy about this fact, but I am not a huge fan of how quickly some of the Arclights' conflicts with the main cast get resolved and that really impacts how I view the Arclights' relationships with the cast gdjsaklg Like it's yugioh and cards/character popularity will always do all of the talking, there's no way you watch yugioh for great character and story writing, but like Rio could have fucking died from her duel with Thomas lmao It makes for some BANGING fanon content and like we get all of the context for why everything happens and for Thomas' motivation and guilt in general, but... if you put someone's sister into a coma in intensive care, I feel like canon should probably do a little bit more than some bickering and dueling with her brother, you know-

Favorite relationship: I do love their family dynamic and how they’re trying to patch it back up, it’s very touching and Michael’s original anguish and resentment towards Yuma’s family is very touching 🥹 III - Michael was in love with Yuma even though he knew it was unrequited, send TWEET IV - What do you mean Momoya isn't canon, she's canon to ME; I'm disgustingly biased but I love how much IV and Kaito just hate each other lmfao Also love what could have been his turbulent friendship with Ryouga, you know they subtweet each other on the daily V - Kousei ofc, what do you mean he's also not canon; I always affectionately refer to Kaito and Chris as divorced I REALLY wish we saw them go through more of the hurdles to get back to ~before~, we only saw a little in the arctic but you know these two are bickering Tron - I need a post canon one shot of how him and Faker work together, I want to be a fly on the wall of the first day

Favorite headcanon: They ALWAYS host dinner parties for the squad, Thomas and Tron need to show off how much better their estate is than the Kamishiro's so they always offer to host

[rek1s-headband]

I'd really like to see some headcanons for a polyamorous relation between y/n, kaoru, and kojiro because I just want these boys to hug each other and me.

Thanks for the request! This was fun to write, because I too would love to be sandwiched between these two. Enjoy!

➯ random boyfriend headcannons

➯ characters: cherry x joe x reader

➯ warnings: none! Just fluff for now. I do swear a bit in my work though, please tell me if this is an issue!

-Yall literally take turns annoying the shit out of each other around the house. You’ll sit on the counter while Joe attempts to make dinner, you and Kaoru mixing his spices around and sticking labels on the wrong packets. You’ll rest your head in Kaoru’s lap while he attempts to get some calligraphy work done or make some adjustments to Carla, Joe talking the ear off him while he tries to concentrate.

-Joe has caught you and Kaoru in the parking lot of a McDonalds on more than one occasion.

-You and Kaoru will go on “dates” to Joe’s restaurant while he works, and pretend you have no idea who the man in front of you is. The two of you will go so far with it too. Joe has had to sit through “birthdays” (yours wasn’t for another eight months), marriage proposals(the poor man had to bring the two of you cake), fake breakups where one person would storm out and cause a scene in the restaurant, the list is endless.

-On the other hand, you and Joe will go to Kaoru’s exhibitions, and absolutely mortify him. The two of you will be shouting various words of encouragement(?) at him, while the poor man just tries to do his work. Yes you’ve gotten a few stares. Yes you’ve been kicked out by security on multiple occasions.

- “WORK THAT BRUSH BABY” “WRITE MY NAME😩” “GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME WE WERE JUST BEING SUPPORTIVE”

-Idk how many of yall have seen that tweet where someone got a label maker and labelled everything in their pantry stupid shit like “mini bagels” (Cheerios) and “ghost broccoli” (cauliflower) but that’s 100% something you and Kaoru would do just to piss Joe off when he’s trying to cook.

-The three of you regularly make shitty edits of Adam in those ghetto clouds every time he gets into a new scandal and make memes out of pictures you take of him every time he shows up at S.

-Joe would carry you around this house at his side and ask you stupid questions while you reply in a robot-like voice to mock Carla and piss Kaoru off

-“Hey Clara(cause yall are original), can you tell me where Kaoru is?”

-“Hello Joe, Kaoru is in the corner reading a book like a little nerd”

-He acts like he hates it, but you and Joe find it hilarious, so even he can find himself smiling at your antics.

-The three of you will sit in a line sometimes, you in Kaoru’s lap, and him in Joe’s, and yall will just sit and braid each other’s hair while watching TV. Sometimes you and Kaoru will take turns trying to put mini braids in Joe’s hair, sticking bows and clips in it anywhere they’ll stay. The two of you have given Joe hair extensions before, and he absolutely adored them.

-Joe and Kaoru are already awful when it comes to skating together, so if you can skate, you can imagine the absolute chaos the three of you would cause at S. Instead of acting like a mediator, you’re just as much of a little shit as them, yelling stuff like “BEAT HIS ASS” or “place your bets now folks!” If you’re not joining in on the fighting as well.

-The three of you sleeping can go one of two ways.

-One, a triple spoon(I’ll let you decide who’s where, maybe you swap) or yall will just be overall comfortable. No kicking or shifting in the night, just pure peace.

-Two, an absolute free-for-all of limbs and heads. Maybe your head will be on Kaoru’s chest, maybe your foot will be in Joe’s armpit. Someone nearly always ends up without a blanket, or on the floor.

-Carla has a charging port in your room, and when she randomly says stuff in the middle of the night you’ll shoot up in bed, scaring the shit out of yourself and the other two. That place quickly becomes a panic room of “WHY ARE YOU SCREAMING” “THAT DAMN ROBOT” “the forecast for tomorrow seems to be cloudy, with a chance of rain.” “BE QUIET CARLA” “sorry, I couldn’t find anything for ‘night garden’, would you like me to search again?” “CARLA”

-Joe is awful for snoring. You and Kaoru will take turns beating the shit out of him with a pillow until he shuts up long enough for the two of you to fall asleep. If he doesn’t stop, you need to violently shake him to make him wake up, this man is a DEEP sleeper. He does that dad thing when he wakes up yknow the big inhale through the nose and the bleary eyes.

-Your house is decorated from top to bottom with artwork. Most of it is because Kaoru liked how it looked, other times it’s simply because you and Joe thought it looked funny. You’ll have various pieces of art hanging in your house that Kaoru thought you and Joe just liked the look of, when in reality the two of you thought it looked like a dick.

-idk how many of yall have seen that TikTok (if not I’ll link it here) where they’re ordering McDonald’s and start fighting in the front of the car while one person vibes in the back, but yall have done that multiple times unironically. I’ll let you decide who’s where, because it changes OFTEN.

-Your birthday cakes are always TOP NOTCH. Joe pours his absolute heart into baking them, while Kaoru helps decorate it and make it perfect for you.

-The three of you are banned from Target because you and Joe decided to mess with the kids toys and set off an alarm.

-Yall regularly do that thing where two of you will be together and the third (usually Joe) will come up to you and start screaming like “HOW COULD YOU?? I LOVED YOU AND YOURE OUT HERE WITH SOMEONE ELSE? GO TO HELL.” And storm off.

-Yall fight over the front seat of the car. Like, the two who aren’t driving are sprinting towards the car, shoving each other out of the way like little kids. Yelling “shotgun” means nothing to yall if u manage to get there first. Whoever’s driving won’t unlock the car for ages, letting the other two battle it out watching from a safe distance.

-The three of you had to make a chore list because of how petty you were. Once the trash went without being taken out for like a week because you’d just keep piling shit on top, trying not to make it collapse.

[ladyvesuvia]

[Navigation] [Masterlist]

@justadreamyhufflepuff: GSJSVSKSBSJD BABY CONGRATS- CAN I PLEASE GET A 🎠 -> Harry potter + soft love + fluff + prompts 9, 10, 32, 42 from prompt list 1. || for my 300 followers celebration

Prompts:

9. “You took all the pillows so I’m using you as one.”

10. “Stop moving and let me braid your hair.”

32. “Make a wish!”

42. “Darling I love you and all, but please step out of the kitchen.”

Pairing: Harry Potter x Fem!Reader

Summary: Moving into your new house with Harry.

Words: 3.1k

Warnings: fluff but with slight and subtle mentions of sexual activities + let me know if i missed anything!

A/N: omg yay harry fluff :DDD ok sorry go ahead btw this hasn’t been proofread yet mbad

After years of setting things up, they could finally move into their house. Of course, there were some parts of it that still needed fixing but they’ll eventually work it out. Right now, they wanted to bask in the comfort and triumph of their own house.

“Got your key?” said [Y/N], holding out her own key. She had already attached a duck keychain to it.

“Got it,” replied Harry, showing her his own. They both sniggered at his ridiculous bathtub keychain, which looked undeniably out of place but she was glad for it nonetheless. See, she had bought it years ago when they first talked about getting a house. “Will you do the honors?”

“You know, we could easily Alohomora the heck out of this bas —”

“Do the honors,” he teasingly urged, poking her on the waist where her tickle spot was and she recoiled. “Do it, [Y/L/N].”

“Ha! I’m Potter now, too. Ergo you’re not so special anymore,” she said as she marched up the raised porch. It was a lovely sight indeed — she could already imagine inviting the others to come over: roasting marshmallows either here or at the backyard and such. She giddily walked towards the door. This is it, she thought. “Wait, this is unfair. You carry me as you open it so I’ll be like a pretty wife.”

“That you are,” said Harry as he scooped her up into his arms. She let out a whoop of approval, patting his cheek as he put the key in and swung the door open.

All their boxes were on the floor already, with a lot more scattered all over the house. “Ooh, this is a lot of work. Wanna sleep it off?” she yawned, kicking some boxes aside on her way to the stairs. “What, you gonna protest, Mr. Potter?”

“Not at all, Mrs. Potter,” said Harry, and they both stopped and looked at each other, eyes narrowed while scrutinizing the name. “Mrs. Potter.”

“Does it sound a bit weird to you? I mean, no offense. I mean, I’ve waited for this half of my life but — you know?

“Yeah, like, [Y/N] Potter,” he said again, making arm gestures as if parting a curtain. She started to laugh. “I see what you mean.”

“You look like a . . . getching shooba driver but on land,” she said with a yawn.

“A what?” This time, Harry was the one stifling his laughter.

“Glitching scuba diver on land,” spat [Y/N], taking off her jacket. When she saw he’d been eyeing her with a dazed expression on his face, she made a show of getting off her right jacket sleeve with a suggestive smile on her face. “Wait, uh, can’t get it off. Sweat, I think. Help?”

“Will do, will do,” said Harry, approaching her and reaching out to pull it off her with a tight smile in an awful attempt to keep his laughter.

“Whatever. Can we sleep now, please? Where’s our bed again?”

“There,” he pointed somewhere in the kitchen room.

“I thought our room was upstairs?”

“Our room is upstairs, the bed is here.”

“Why would that be the ca—oh, no. D’we really have to assemble it?” she whined. They had to travel by Muggle transportation due to issues with the Floo network and they wanted to minimize suspicion, and the it was finally taking its toll on their entire energy: [Y/N]’s back was cramping from the long ride, Harry’s head was already hurting like hell. To make matters worse, neighbors were peeking through their windows so they had to go inside immediately.

“No, we can just bring the mattress up and assemble it all tomorrow, yeah?”

“Oh, yeah,” she said with a moan, tossing the jacket on the kitchen counter. “Yeah, yeah.”

“Oh, are we — ?” He shrugged hesitantly.

“No! I mean, do you want to? Now?”

“Do you?” The two chuckled nervously. They were standing there for probably around half a minute or one when the doorbell dinged and the two of them jumped. [Y/N] volunteered to get it.

A woman younger than her for about a year stood in front of her doorstep when she swung the door open, carrying a tiny baby probably about a few months old in her arms. [Y/N] managed a friendly smile as she wiped away a drop of sweat from her forehead.

“Hi, welcome to the neighborhood. I’m Karolina Martin. I live right across and I brought you something!”

“The . . . baby?” [Y/N]’s shoulders tensed as she thought about this over an over until she realized that was highly unlikely.

“No! You’re hilarious, though. I like you. I actually came here to give you” — the woman put down a bag she hung over her shoulder down on the floor — “this.”

Inside was a basket with a bottle of what [Y/N] could only assume was fine wine or champagne or whatever it was couples with a number of chocolates and cookies inside. She realized with a start there was also a pot inside.

[Y/N] laughed, holding up the pot. “Funny, because we’re Potters?” she asked, setting it back down again.

“You are?” Karolina said, impressed. “So which do you suggest I should start with first? Stoneware or earthenware? Ooh, what about fire clay?”

It took a few seconds before [Y/N] realized the direction of the conversation. “Oh! Well, heh, not that kind of potter.”

Karolina flinched, eyeing [Y/N] with suspicion. “You smoke — ?”

“No! Not that kind of potter. We don’t smoke po—Sorry, that’s on me, I should have clarified. I’m [Y/N],” she said. Karolina still looked confused. Composing herself, she managed a tight smile. “[Y/N] Potter.”

“Oh! Oh, my goodness. I’m so sorry!” Karolina chuckled. “I was a bit confused, I’m really sorry. I haven’t met someone around here about my age.”

“Don’t worry about it. Thanks for the welcoming gift, by the way. I just moved in with my . . . husband.” It still sounded surreal to call Harry that way, but she liked it all the same. Her eyes fell on the chubby little kid.

“Right! This is baby Sydney, she’s turning six months old next week. Would be really nice if you and your husband could come — and kid or kids, if you have some?” Maybe it was the coos the baby made or her adorable eyes and hints of two teeth growing, but [Y/N] felt intimidated by the little kid. She was bigger than she thought babies would be. Is this what she’d push through her bottom? She shuddered. “Do you . . . want to hold her?” asked Karolina, oblivious to the thoughts going on in [Y/N]’s heads.

“Listen, I’m really grateful you stopped by but we’re kinda tired. I’m so, so, sorry! Thank you a lot for these stuff. We’ll definitely come by next week — me and Harry, just Harry and me.” [Y/N] chuckled nervously again, smiling at the baby.

“I totally understand. Me and Joey were also very tired when we first moved in, hence Sydney.” Karolina laughed. [Y/N] simply chimed in the laughter as well, not wanting to jeopardize a newfound friendship over a joke. “Have a lovely evening, [Y/N]. I’ll see you around!”

When she shut the door with the bag over her shoulder, she jumped in fright at the sight of Harry just behind the door with an amused grin on his face. “What?” said [Y/N] as she rubbed her eyes.

“Husband?” he mused. When she shot him a glare saying not to push it further, he resorted to giggling. “Sorry, my wife.”

“Shut up, Harry,” she said. “Now, where’s that damned mattress?”

“Worry not, I got it upstairs already, all we gotta do now is take a quick shower and go to bed.”

After they finished dressing into more comfortable clothes, they made it a point to plop down as hard as they could on the mattress. To her relief, Harry had settled a plain white bedsheet on top of it earlier while she was talking to Karolina. She was the first to jump in, stretching her legs all over. “Finally!” she exclaimed.

“Your turn,” she said, pointing at a spot right next to her. Harry took off his glasses and was about to jump in next when she asked where the pillows were.

“Er — Accio pillow!” She could hear the sound of boxes moving downstairs bumping each other when a pillow came hurtling in and landed on Harry’s chest, forcing him to plop down on the mattress.

A shrill squeak sounded, and the two of them froze. [Y/N] narrowed her eyes, pointing her finger at him in accusation. “Did you fart?”

“No, we just still haven’t removed the plastic from the mattress.”

“You want to remove it?” she suggested, ready to get up and get her own wand when Harry gently nudged her back down.

“Okay, where’s my wand?“

[Y/N] looked left and right until she found it tying on an old bedside table he managed to set down earlier that day and said, “There! Bedside table.”

“Eh.”

“Agreed, let’s just say you did fart.”

“Agreed,” said Harry, who unconsciously wrapped his legs and arms around the pillow on top of him and closed his eyes to sleep. [Y/N] was quick to act. Not to take his pillow, but to turn him into one — metaphorically, of course. She laughed at the thought of using Transfiguration to turn Harry into a literal pillow.

Just as he wrapped his limbs around the only pillow, [Y/N] did the same to him. He woke up with a jolt, but did not take her off him. “I’m the little spoon?” he asked with a smile.

“Yes, and I happen to like little spoons a lot,” she said casually. Harry turned his head in her direction, with a wide grin on his pretty face. “Okay, that sounded wrong. It’s just that you hogged the only pillow so now I’m using you as one.”

“Well, do you want it?” he offered obliviously.

“Nope, I like this set-up. Go back to sleep.”

And he did — they both did. At some point during the night, they turned each other into a pillow. Harry, however, awoke to the sound of her snoring. It wasn’t like his Uncle Vernon’s, though. Looking at her face seemed to dull it all out. It wasn’t exactly an endearing sound, but the sight of her was more than so — tousled hair, mouth slightly open. . . . With one last smile on his face as he watched her sleep, he felt himself drifting off into a deep slumber.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

A loud clanging from downstairs awoke Harry. Had he overslept? He found that his back ached whenever he did so much as move, but knew better than to bide his time if there was danger nearby. He reached out to the bedside table to grab his wand, but realized he had to put his glasses on first.

Harry ran downstairs, clutching his wand tightly with his outstretched hand as he listened for anything there was to hear. He paused. A stranger walked out of the kitchen, and he pointed his wand at them.

The stranger held their hands up with a bewildered look on their face until [Y/N] came out of the kitchen all sweaty with a frilly apron. “Harry!” she cried in bewilderment at the sight of him pointing his wand at their new neighbor. “Alright, uh, Karolina, this is my husband, Harry; Harry — stop pointing your . . . stick at her — this is our neighbor who lives across from us, Karolina.”

“Er — hello, Karolina. Sorry about the wa—” [Y/N] shot him a dirty look. “—ander. Wander. Sorry about the bad . . . wandering. You know what? I just woke up on the wrong side of bed and I got paranoid with the . . . new house and all.”

“He tends to get jumpy,” said [Y/N] in hopes of wrapping this up immediately. “Anyway, five minutes left till it’s done. Thank you so, so much for the help, Karol! One last thing, for the whipped cream, do I. . .”

He then noticed that some of the furniture were already arranged such as the sofa and the dining table. Some cabinets were decorated with non-magical framed pictures of them. Harry begged to disagree, though. Each picture there was more than just ma— Is that a baby? Sleeping in a car seat on their couch?

Harry blinked. It stirred, eyes fluttering open. Harry was now holding his breath in anticipation. It was watching him curiously. When he did not move, the little thing started to giggle. Smiling sheepishly back, he made a show of raking his hand through his hair and walking into the kitchen.

It was still messy, but the fridge was on now, and some condiments were put where they belonged.

Karolina was washing a bowl on the sink when the baby outside started crying. She washed her hands quick and ran out, excusing herself while smiling apologetically at the two of them.

[Y/N] opened the oven, pulling out something that smelled of a scent that made Harry’s mouth water.

“Is that Treacle Tart?” he blurted out.

[Y/N] almost dropped the pan of delight she held in her mittened hands. She cleared her throat in an attempt to maintain her composure as she set it down on the counter and pulled off her mittens. Still panting, she looked at him and said, “Harry, darling, I love you and all but please step out of the kitchen.”

“Sorry,” he muttered as he pressed a kiss against her head.

“Don’t do that, my hair stinks. I haven’t showered yet,” said [Y/N].

“What do you mean? It smells just fine.”

“Yeah? Well, it’s greasy. Is it greasy?”

“Yeah, you kinda look like Snape from where I’m standing. Ow! Sorry, bad joke. Okay, keep doing what you’re doing while I. . .” he trailed off as he grabbed her wrist gingerly and pulled off the scrunchie off it and started braiding her hair whilst she shook the whipped cream. “Could you just stop moving and let me braid your hair?”

“Oh, shut up! This tart’s for you, anyway.”

“So it is a Treacle Tart?”

“Uh, Doy,” she said mockingly. “It’s for your birthday, genius.”

“But it isn’t till next month,” said Harry.

“Eh, well, thought we could spend some time together in our new house without a crowd for a while. Why’re you even braiding my hair?”

“That baby got me thinking about it,” said Harry, as the child’s sobs started to cease. “You know, like . . . do you think we’re ready?”

“Well, what will be, will be.” She squeezed whipped cream on each side, scanning the final product with narrowed eyes. Harry tied the poorly-done braid with the scrunchie, letting her hair fall down to her back. [Y/N] turned to him. “Honestly, I’m kind of scared about the whole thing, you know? Like, aside from the . . . bloody pushing, it’ll be a huge responsibility. And I want to know if you’re up for it.”

“Okay,” he found himself saying so casually.

“Okay?” [Y/N] repeated to him, with an expression the combination of excitement and disbelief. “Okay as in, ‘okay let’s start trying?’”

“Okay, yes! Let’s start trying now!”

“Okay, but not right now, though,” said [Y/N] under her breath.

“Why not?” he said. Merlin, I have to stop.

“For one, Karolina’s right there at the doorway with Sydney.”

Harry shifted his gaze from [Y/N] to Karolina, who was now trying hard to stifle her laugh with a sleeping Sydney in her arms. “Okay, I’m gonna pretend I didn’t just hear that,” she said with a suggestive smile. “I’ll get going now, [Y/N], Harry.”

“Oh, you won’t try the Treacle Tart out?” called out [Y/N].

“Nah, we’ve eaten a lot of that already. We’re having cheesecake for tonight. Anyway, see you two.” With a friendly wave, she went off her way, leaving the two of them alone in their house.

Harry expected her to berate him, but she was already facing him with a slice of a tart resting neatly on a plate with a lousy candle set in the middle of it. “Make a wish,” she told him.

“Uh. . . I’m bad at wishes, you know that.”

“Then wish to be better at making wishes then make a better wish next month,” she said.

“Okay, I wish to be better at making wishes,” said Harry before blowing the candle out. [Y/N] pulled off the candle and lead him to the living room, where she put down the pan and separated the entire thing to put it on an adorable floral plate she loved.

“Happy super advanced birthday, Just Harry,” said [Y/N], kissing his head this time. “Have some Treacle Tart. I tried, okay?” Laughing, she put a fork on his plate and went to slice one for herself.

“Thank you, soft love,” said Harry as he helped himself to his slice. “Merlin, this is per—”

[Y/N] bursted into laughter, a couple crumbs spitting on the table. She had to get a tissue and wipe the table as she bellowed. “What’d you say?”

“Soft . . . love. Does that mean something bad?”

“No, no, no. It’s just funny to hear it from you. Say it again,” she said, resting her elbow on the top rail of a chair, eager to hear him.

“Soft love?” said Harry hesitantly.

“Oh my— Who told you to say that? Where’d you learn that?” choked [Y/N], wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. “Okay, sorry.”

“Er — you see, before we left to go here, Ron told me to experiment with . . . pet names.”

“So you delivered?”

“Do you not like it?” said Harry, his fork frozen in mid-air.

“Oh, I do. I so do,” she replied, chuckling. “I’ve had enough of tough love, I could use some soft love. But d’you know what it means?”

When Harry shook his head, she took one step forward to run her hand through his hair, grinning. “Means you accept all flaws instead of trying to build up a wall just to better and correct those flaws.”

“Then what’s so funny?” he asked with genuine curiosity rather than annoyance.

“Oh, Harry. Nothing! I just find you trying new stuff very, very amusing. Moving in here was a good choice, you know. Now I get to find out new things about you,” said [Y/N].

Harry smiled back, his cheeks a tad warmer than usual. “So which do you prefer? Tough love or soft love?”

“Eh, a relationship can’t work with just one of the two. Both works. Now eat your slice before we get working on this house,” said [Y/N] as she snapped her fingers, picking up her own plate and savoring her own work. “Chop chop.”

“You mean home?”

“Yep, I mean home,” answered [Y/N] without any hesitation. Oh, and, just one small update: they didn’t remove the plastic wrap of the mattress until next week.

Taglist: @gingerale2017 @maybanksslut @hey-there-angels @mrzweasley @gwlvr @booksarealwaysbettersworlds-blog @greenlyblue @henqtic @meiitanoia @badass-yn @catching-the-train-to-hogwarts

[valdomarx]

A Marriage of Convenience

Octoberfest romcom tropes day 1: fake dating

Jaskier pushed his ale aside and broke the wax seal on the letter. As he read the contents, his face pinched into a frown.

“Anything important?” Geralt asked, glancing up from his soup. 

Jaskier chewed his lower lip. “Not really. It’s from my family.” He took a breath. “They’re going to disinherit me.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow. “What did you do this time?”

Jaskier scoffed. “Nothing, thank you very much! But it’s my 35th birthday next month, and the stipulations of the Lettenhove family will are quite clear. If the oldest son isn’t married by the age of 35, inheritance passes to the next married cousin.”

“Very keen on weddings in Lettenhove, are they?”

“Rather less keen on unmarried bachelors, actually.”

Geralt grunted. “That’s too bad. I imagine a viscount’s fortune could have come in handy for you.”

“Oh, I don’t care about the money.” Jaskier waved a hand dismissively. “It’s just,” he sighed. “I have younger sisters who rely on me for support. If the inheritance goes to cousin Edward, he’ll turn them out without a penny to their names.”

“That’s unkind.”

“It is.” Jaskier slumped. He was glad to have left Lettenhove and its court intrigues behind, but the thought of his sisters being at the mercy of his greedy cousin was unconscionable. He knew too well all the terrible things that could befall a woman alone in the world.

“This will,” Geralt said, stirring his soup absentmindedly, “does it have any rules about who you have to marry?”

“No. Any old wedding will do. But it’s not like I’m going to find anyone willing to tie themselves to me in the next month.”

Geralt shrugged one shoulder. “I’ll marry you.”

Jaskier choked on his ale. “You?”

“Why not?”

“Because…” he broke off and mopped the sweat from his brow. Because I’ve been in love with you for decades. Because I’ve fantasised about you saying this in a million different ways. Because having to pretend it’s real is going to break my heart.

Geralt reached over the table and patted his hand. “It’ll just be pretend,” he said, as if that were in any way reassuring. “This is a problem easily solved. Let me help you.”

Jaskier sagged. This was going to be a disaster.

-

“This is going to be a disaster!” Jaskier paced anxiously around their room. “There are so many ways this could go horribly wrong.”

Geralt sat on the bed counting bundles of herbs. “It’ll be fine.” He was infuriatingly calm. “We’ll head to Lettenhove, have a quick wedding, get your family off your back, and be on our way. It’ll only take a few days.”

“But,” Jaskier kept pacing. “We’ll have to. You know. We’ll have to do couple things. There are certain… expectations of a newly married pair.”

Geralt got to his feet and placed his hands on Jaskier’s shoulders, stopping his anxious traipsing. “We’ll manage. Can’t be any worse than fighting drowners.”

Jaskier looked into amber eyes and felt his heart turn over in his chest. “Everyone will expect us to be holding hands, and kissing, and gods know what else. And you can’t do that.” He sighed. “You don’t even like men.”

Geralt leaned in closer, close enough that strands of his silver hair tickled Jaskier’s cheek. “I like men just fine,” he said, and pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Then Jaskier did something terribly foolish. His body moved before his mind, his feet stepping closer, his arms wrapping around Geralt’s neck. He kissed him, hard, and to his astonishment Geralt kissed him back hungrily, lips parting to allow Jaskier to taste him fully, tongue exploring, hands roaming, and by the time they broke apart Jaskier was flushed and breathing hard.

“See?” Geralt said, his deep voice sending a shiver up his spine. “We can do this.”

-

Jaskier wrote to his family to tell them the good news, and he and Geralt wasted no time in heading off to Lettenhove. The journey was long but nothing they were unused to. They traveled by day, slept under the stars by night, and Geralt even picked up a few quick contracts to help pay their way.

It was comfortable, and normal, and Jaskier could almost forget about what he was about to put himself through.

At least, until they reached the outskirts of Lettenhove and they heard the whoosh of an incoming portal. The ground shook, the air rippled, and through the rent in reality stepped Yennefer, terrifying and beautiful as ever.

She raised one perfectly arched eyebrow at them. “I hear congratulations are in order.”

Jaskier couldn’t even bring himself to come up with a snarky reply as she swept past him and went to Geralt. He stood back and watched the two of them, powerful and dazzling together, each other’s equals in capability and composure.

He had never had a chance in this competition, he thought bitterly. He would be pretending with Geralt, while she had his heart for real.

Jaskier was left at camp while Geralt and Yennefer went off to do... whatever it was they did together. (He could guess what that was.) He spent a cold, lonely night with no one but Roach for company, berating himself for feeling so hurt by something he knew from the beginning was nothing but a ruse.

-

With their arrival in Lettenhove proper, there was nothing to do but face his family. The brightest spot of his day was walking into the estate and having his sisters squeal and jump on him just as they had done as children.

He stopped laughing and caught his breath long enough to introduce them. “Essi and Priscilla, this is Geralt.” My husband to be, he thought, and something twisted inside him at that. “Geralt, these are my troublesome sisters.”

Essi dipped her head and Priscilla performed a theatrical bow. “We were wondering if Jaskier would ever settle down,” Essi said with a sly smile.

“But seeing how handsome you are, I can’t blame him!” Priscilla replied, and the two of them broke into fits of giggles. 

Geralt, for his part, took them with good humour. Where Jaskier had been expecting him to be dour, he smiled indulgently and took each of their hands in turn and pressed a kiss to their knuckles, resulting in another uproar of giggling.

“Thank you for that,” Jaskier said quietly as they made their way to the room waiting for them.

Geralt inclined his head. “Have to make a good impression on the future in-laws,” he said, the corner of his lips quirking upward in amusement. 

The rest of his family were predictable as clockwork. Cousin Edward was sour, his father was distant, and his mother was simply relieved to see him married off as was proper. Geralt sat through all of it with more patience and good grace than Jaskier would have thought him capable of.

-

The day of the wedding itself passed in a blur. With such short notice the ceremony was terribly paired down by noble standards, but still, there was the formal breakfast, the dressing in formal garments, the journey to the temple outside of the city, the clamour of priestesses and officials and his family, the exchanging of rings, the reading of texts, and of course the formal dinner.

Jaskier barely remembered any of it. Looking back, the only thing that stuck out in his mind was the feeling of Geralt’s hand clasping his own during the handfasting. And the way that, whenever he was feeling overwhelmed over the course of the day, Geralt’s hand would find his own and give a comforting squeeze. 

-

Finally the ceremonies were complete and they were left in peace in their chambers, the two of them alone for the first time all day. Geralt’s hair had been braided into two slim plaits running either side of his face, though by now they were starting to become mussed. He’d even put on a shirt of dark blue silk as opposed to his standard uniform of all black. The effect was quite stunning.

As the door closed, Jaskier’s shoulders slumped and he breathed for what felt like the first time in hours.

Geralt cupped one cheek tenderly. “You good?”

Jaskier exhaled, letting the anxiety and stress of the day slowly unwind. He looked into Geralt’s warm eyes and felt, for once, safe and unjudged. “I’m good.”

Geralt brought their lips together, soft as could be, and Jaskier’s knees shook. He grabbed Geralt’s forearms to hold himself upright and, desperate for some sort of control, some sort of meaning, he pulled him into a deep, passionate kiss. 

This was a bad idea, he was aware, but Geralt felt so good in his arms. He ran his hands through silky silver hair like he’d always wanted to, he pressed himself close to that muscled chest he’d spent more time than he should have admiring, and he moaned unrestrainedly when Geralt picked him up, locking his legs around his waist.

This was a terrible idea, he knew, but Geralt carried him over to the bed with firm, confident steps, and the temptation to touch, to hold, to kiss was overwhelming. This would only lead to heartache, but he was weak in the face of love, as always. 

Geralt laid him out and took him apart with soft lips and careful fingers and a wicked tongue, and it was everything he’d been dreaming of for years, and yet so much more intense than anything he could have imagined. Geralt was dazzling beneath him, warm amber eyes and pale scarred flesh, beautiful and kind and more than he could possibly deserve.

-

Nuptial celebrations in Lettenhove were mercifully brief, and with the ceremony completed and recorded to the satisfaction of the genealogists, they were free to depart.

There were, however, some customs which could not be avoided.

“You’ll be honeymooning nearby?” Jaskier’s mother asked, with the understanding that this was not a question.

“Actually, we thought -”

“They’ll be staying in my cottage, won’t you?” Priscilla interjected. She’d availed herself of her position, such as it was, to secure a tiny ramshackle cottage on the Kerack coast. It wasn’t opulent but it was, thankfully, far from prying eyes.

Jaskier gave her a tiny nod of thanks and she winked.

“A cottage?” His mother’s lip turned up in distaste. “How quaint.”

“And there’s ever so much to pack, so we must be on our way -” he excused himself with a bow, tugging Geralt behind him.

Out of the view of their parents, Priscilla and Essi set upon him with hugs and kisses, thanked him for saving them from the horrors of cousin Edward, and packed up an obscene quantity of cheeses and wine to take with them.

By the time they departed the estate, Jaskier was even smiling.

-

It was quiet and calm on the coast. The cottage overlooked the sea, rolling and tempestuous, and had just enough space for a kitchen, a bed, and a bath. They had everything they needed, even a stable for Roach outside.

Even though it was only for a few days, Jaskier imagined Geralt would be bored and unhappy, feeling trapped in a place so small. But he seemed content: riding along the coastline in the morning, brushing Roach out, going fishing in the afternoon, preparing the catch for their evening meal.

Jaskier showed him his favourite spices and how to prepare the fish with butter to make it rich and indulgent, and in the quiet moments he wrote poetry or simply sat on the battered chair on the porch of the cottage and watched the waves.

Geralt returned to the cottage with a net bulging with fish and a smile on his face. He’d been doing that more recently, Jaskier had noticed, smiling in a way that seemed natural and unforced. He even left his armour and swords in the cottage and waded down to the sea in just his trousers and shirtsleeves, disarmingly casual.

It was comfortable, almost domestic. 

And it was a torment, showing Jaskier a tiny glimpse of a life he’d never have.

-

Their last night on the coast, Geralt cooked the remainder of their provisions into a feast, poured the best wine they had, and set a fire in the hearth. He piled up blankets and pillows, laid down their warmest furs, and pulled Jaskier into his arms in front of the flames.

“Thank you,” he said, dotting kisses in a line up Jaskier’s neck, “for taking such good care of me.”

Jaskier fidgeted unhappily. “You’re the one doing me a favour,” he reminded him. That seemed important to remember. This was a favour from a friend, nothing more.

Geralt hummed against his neck, the vibrations rippling against his skin. “I can see some advantages to me,” he murmured, continuing his line of kisses up Jaskier’s jaw and toward his lips.

Jaskier, stupidly, allowed Geralt to turn him around, hands delicate around his waist, allowed him to bring their lips together. He allowed a kiss, soft at first, and then another, more intense, moaning into Geralt’s mouth. 

“Can I interest you in an early night?” Geralt purred in his ear, and everything in Jaskier’s body said yes, and everything in his mind said no.

Eventually, his mind won out and he pushed Geralt away. 

“No,” he said, struggling to keep his voice steady. “I can’t. I won’t. I’m sorry, Geralt, but this was a terrible mistake.”

He pushed himself to his feet, ignoring Geralt’s sad expression. He was hit by the urge to run, but there was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. Tears welled in his eyes.

“Hey,” Geralt’s voice was so soft behind him. “It’s okay, Jaskier. Whatever it is. I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable. I won’t do it again.”

Jaskier deflated. He turned to face Geralt, watery eyes and all. “That’s not the problem. I don’t want you to stop. I want this to be real.”

Geralt stood carefully still. “What do you mean, real?”

Jaskier took a breath, tried to imagine how to explain himself, how to convey what he felt. “I’m in love with you!” he snapped in the end. Not his most eloquent work, but perhaps his most honest.

Geralt tilted his head. “I know,” he said. He looked down at the ring on his finger. “Isn’t that the point?”

“The point?” Jaskier exploded. “The point!” He couldn’t stop himself from waving his arms as he ranted. “Oh, sure, I’m certain that the ideal marriage is between one person who’s hopelessly in love and one person who’s indifferent and besotted with another. I’m sure Yennefer will be delighted when she hears about this whole situation.”

Geralt’s eyes narrowed. “You think I’m in love with Yennefer?”

“Yes! Obviously!”

He paused, obviously weighing his words. “That night when she visited us outside Lettenhove, she wasn’t surprised by the news. She told me congratulations, and that it had taken long enough. I think she knew long before I did that I wasn’t in love with her, not really. My heart already belonged to another.”

Jaskier’s breath caught in his throat. “You mean… You and her, you’re not...”

Geralt shook his head. “What she most wants is something I can’t give her.”

“And you?” Jaskier asked, dreading the answer.

Geralt took his hand. “What I most want,” he stroked his thumb over the ring around Jaskier’s finger, “is something I already have.”

Jaskier’s heart leapt. It was almost too much. It was overwhelming. “You really love me?”

Geralt smiled softly. “I really do.”

Jaskier threw himself into Geralt’s lap, arms around his neck, foreheads pressed together. “Tell me again,” he said, because he was needy.

“I love you,” Geralt said, kissing down the side of his face. “I love you,” he said, lacing their fingers together against the furs. “I love you,” he said, their bodies moving together, finally free to feel with the intensity they had been hiding for so long, their scents mingling together with the fresh salt tang of the sea.

-

The sun shone brightly and the wind whipped their hair as they packed up Roach the next morning. Jaskier paused to admire the view one last time: The rolling waves, the steep cliffs, the shingled beach. 

Geralt slipped his arms around his waist from behind and dropped a kiss just beneath his ear. 

“What does our life look like now?” Jaskier asked, eyes on the waves.

He felt Geralt’s smile against his hair. “Much the same as before,” he said. “With perhaps a few improvements.”

Jaskier turned then and kissed him fully, no need to hold himself back, taking Geralt’s hand and running his fingers over the ring there.

“Ready to head back to the Path?” 

Geralt smiled, and Jaskier would never tire of that. “Ready if you are,” he said with softness in his eyes, “husband.”

[acradelius]

could i ask for some family bonding with moicy x daughter reader? tyty :)

"Y'know, Chillin' With The Moms"

Fandom: Overwatch

Pairing: Moms!Moicy (Moira/Mercy) + Daughter!Reader

Rating: Orange [🟠] (Equivalent to G/PG)

Warnings/Mention Ofs: Two Moms, Bonding, Slightly Controversial Mom Moira

Word Count: 667 Words

Author's Note: Imagine your moms fighting about who has the better weird work decor: cows or gnomes.

Moments of bonding, especially whenever it involves both of (Y/N)’s moms, can become quite interesting experiences. On one hand there’s Angela, who is a peerless healer, a brilliant scientist, and a staunch advocate for peace. On the other hand, there’s Moira, who’s equal parts brilliant and controversial, on the cutting edge of genetic engineering, searching for a way to rewrite the fundamental building blocks of life. Despite their contrasting opinions and ways of handling they’re actually great parents and put aside their differences when it comes to (Y/N), especially bonding moments. Sometimes there’s bonding moments with just one mom, but they try to make most bonding moments with both moms. 

One of the more minor things that Angela and (Y/N) enjoy bonding over is experimenting with hairstyles. While most of the experimenting is done with (Y/N)’s hair more than her mother’s, there’s some things such as trying to accomplish difficult braids such as the Reverse Braid, Fishtail Braid, and Herringbone Braid. Bonding on a more eventful level between the mother and daughter is volunteering their time together at the local medical centers or even senior citizen centers. Sometimes they’ll assist with creating and delivering meals for patients or helping seniors with their arts and crafts. Out of all the things to do, their favorite one is to essentially create a blueprint of medical technology to assist civilians or the different individuals that they associate with. Whenever (Y/N) shows off said blueprints to others, Angela can’t be anything more than proud, and enjoys being able to create those moments with her daughter as she wasn’t able to have them with her own parents. 

Having conversations is one of the minor ways that Moira and (Y/N) bond with each other, even though it might not be considered as a bonding activity. They enjoy bouncing theories or ideas off of each other, seeing how each other would respond to seemingly controversial topics. Believe it or not, Moira becomes eccentric when it comes to teaching (Y/N) how to crochet and could spend hours talking about the different fabrics and patterns that can be experimented with. They usually create small objects such as coasters, but sometimes will dwell into projects of making blankets or even attempt to create their own stuffed animals. Despite being frowned upon by many people, especially Angela, the favorite bonding time between (Y/N) and Moira is doing lab work together. Seeing (Y/N) become excited whenever something that she’s been working on finally starts going the way that she wants it to, or the experiment becomes successful, makes Moira swell in pride as she’s the one that was able to introduce (Y/N) to it, and watching the impressive progression that (Y/N) has made. 

As there’s bonding moments with just one mom, there follows bonding moments with both moms being there. Yet, these bonding moments more focus around their daughter, (Y/N), and whatever it is that she wants to do. Needless to say, there’s rare moments of them doing the same thing as they did last time. A favorite bonding moment is having a picnic, but it’s more of the time and effort that it takes to make the picnic happen. Listening to whatever the latest fad is with (Y/N) and her generation, or the “strange modern” music that she listens to. Making these recipes that she finds on social media, which either have weird names or may look funny, but taste very well. Another thing that they all enjoy doing is going window shopping, especially in the bigger malls around their area, (Y/N) trying to find new objects to take up space around the house or her moms’ workplaces. She enjoys finding them weird knick knacks, gnome related items for Moira while for Angela it’s cow related items. For these two moms, it wouldn’t matter whatever their daughter dragged them through, as long as it means getting to spend time with (Y/N).

[fleursdemeduse]

Remembrance AU: Day and Night

I only have 5 more planned parts before the "main story" is completed.

Warnings: Mention of Death ; Unconsciousness ; Unrequited[?] Love

Words: 3.5k

Sometimes, it was amazing to you how lucky you had been.

You remembered how warm the air had been when you had found the flower field. The breeze drug the long grass into graceful waves and the different wildflowers swayed gently. Trees framed the field except for the large weeping cherry tree that sat upon a small hill. No other flowers grew on the hill, but you hadn’t thought anything of it. It was so quiet there, so serene. The air tasted sweet. It was like a scene from a storybook.

You had immediately hunted down Techno and took him away from his farming to see the spot. Back then, you hadn’t known each other for long, but you had felt so close to him already. It was like you had already known each other for all of the lifetimes he had talked about.

“Isn’t it gorgeous, Tech?” He grunted out a quiet “yeah” and you grinned up at him. Back then, during the war, he always wore his mask. The pig skull strapped tightly to his face hid his features, including his eyes, but you didn’t care. His voice usually had enough inflection for you to know his expression. You giggled as you sprinted forward, towards the giant tree in the middle. “Follow me! I wanna watch the clouds.”

He had relented. Your smile could have rivaled the beauty of the field in that moment, and he felt himself falling for you even deeper. He’d never tell you, though. Despite how often you could respawn, he wouldn’t let himself be with someone he could lose. And he very much could lose you. You could just not come back one of these times, you could hate him for the things he’s done, you could see how Wilbur looked at you and turn that damning smile onto him. He wouldn’t prevent you from being happy.

You sat with your back against the bark of the large tree, some of the light petals shaking loose and drifting slowly down around you. He would remember this moment forever.

He had laid next to you, his hair a brighter pink than the flowers above the two of you and spread in a halo around his head.

“What’s gonna happen when this is all over?” He thought it over, watching the clouds mimic the flowers in their sluggishness.

“We move on.” You nodded, stomach flipping at the way he said “we” and not “I”. That had to have been progress in your friendship, no?

You sat there quietly, contemplative, while he took in the coolness of the shade compared to how hot the area in the trees seemed to be. This was a spot Phil would have loved had he been around. He could imagine a small cottage nearby and the overgrown field turned into a garden. The voices agreed with this thought. There would be cakes and bonfires on summer nights. He’d bring you with him to visit. Would you like Phil? You two were similar in a lot of ways. Even in past lives, Phil had a fatherly streak for himself, Tommy and Wilbur. Sometimes Tubbo and Ranboo were included in that equation. When would the teen show up? This couldn’t have been a timeline without him. Everyone else was here and the hybrid knew you’d love the kid just like you did the other two. He hadn’t interacted with him much in other lives, but the kid was nice enough. Maybe you’d-

"I can braid your hair for you, if you want."

Your voice had broken through the voices that had idly whispered in his ears. He considered it for a moment, chat now becoming louder.

YES!!

Please don’t let them.

What kind of braid do they want to do?

Are they going to play with it too?

Don’t turn your back on them.

The mask would have to come off.

E.

Why are they so nice to us?

E.

Do it.

What if they did a french braid? That’d look nice.

Their hands look soft.

What if they pull our hair?

Let them do it. They’ll be so proud of themselves.

Technoblade sighed and moved his head to your lap. “I’m not moving any more. You can do what you wish. I’m gonna nap.”

Your smile was electric and he pressed his lips together to fight the urge to groan at the sight. He almost lost that fight when your fingers carded through his hair.

“Can I take off your mask?”

“No.” His answer was immediate. “Work around it.”

You pressed your lips together. “Can I unbuckle it, at least? I don’t want to pull.”

“Do what you want.” He closed his eyes, feeling you mess with the strap before carefully laying it over the side of the skull, careful to not dislodge it. The extra effort you took to make him comfortable made his heart flutter in his chest a bit more than it should have. Did you do this with anyone else in their tiny rebellion? He had noticed Tommy had been walking around with a small braid framing his face lately and he had seen Wilbur with one pinned back in his hair when he removed his beanie a while back. Were they your doing? It was his turn, then.

He craved your touch more than he should have. It was much softer than his own and the contrast wasn’t something he experienced often. He enjoyed the fleeting touches you experimented with on him as you tested his boundaries. The random hugs you gave him when you were happy and forgot yourself for a moment. The times when you’d unconsciously touch his arm while you two talked. The friendly bumps when you two walked. He was happy to be your friend.

“Have you ever thought about how much worse our lives would be without each other?”

He took a moment to think the question over.

“Well, I figure mine would have been about the same. I’ve spent plenty of them without you before, so it’d have just been another to add on.” Your hands paused in his hair and the hybrid opened an eye to watch your lips tilted into a frown. He had never liked that expression on you.

“I suppose that’s fair.”

“I think having you in mine now is pretty nice.” The sentence left his lips before he could stop it. It was too sentimental for him. He wasn’t one to speak before thinking, but the way you lit up at his outburst made him happy he had too.

“I think having you in mine is pretty nice too, Tech.” Your nails ran lightly over his temple as you pulled hair back into the mess you were currently trying to tame it into.

“I’m not a dog, [y/n].”

“I never said you were.”

“Then stop scratchin’ me like one.” You laughed and he huffed proudly at the sound. “I do like spendin’ time with you, though.”

He heard you hum quietly, feeling the way his hair tugged as your fingers worked.

“You make everything quiet. Sometimes, I can see the past so clearly in my mind… it almost feels like it’s real and happenin’ again. But it isn’t. Only now is real. And when I’m with you, even the voices will occasionally take a break.” He watched the way your lips fell to a soft “o” shape. He sighed, feeling like if he didn’t go on, you’d say something contrary to him. He didn’t spill his guts like this. Not literally or metaphorically. But something about you made him want to go on and on. “You have this special power over everyone. It’s amazin’. I didn’t even know what to think when we met. I was ready to move on and never see you again, but you kept persisting. You just trusted this violent stranger who can’t handle social situations, and I’m here tryin’ to figure out what I’m supposed to do when I can’t even trust my own mind.”

Your laughter felt like you punched him in the gut and he turned his head to look up at you. Your smile didn’t look mocking, and when your amusement faded, the curve of your lips remained untaunting.

“You just trust me back, Tech. I don’t have any special powers aside from not being able to stay dead.” He felt your hand grip his arm and squeeze lightly. “I’m not going anywhere either. You’re right. I’m relentless. You’re not gonna get rid of me unless you tell me you want me gone.”

His heart felt like it was in his throat.

“And honestly?” His breath caught for a moment at the look in your eyes as you gazed down at him. He felt so naked under it, but it wasn’t a bad feeling. “I could see the worst parts of you and still think you are the most beautiful person I've met.”

“Bold of you to say, considerin’ I’m wearin’ a mask.” He mumbled, heartbeat suddenly picking up and palpitating as if he were in battle. It felt like you really could see him, all of him, despite the covering. He didn’t feel like he had, or even could, hide anything from you. Every scar, every expression, every thought. You had taken his admittance of the voices in stride, even talked to them directly sometimes. You weren’t afraid to touch him, to be soft with him. If he could spend the rest of this timeline with you, even if this was the only one you were in, he’d feel full.

Your smile wavered when you watched Techno reach up as if to remove his mask.

“What are you doing?”

“Showing you some of the worst parts of me.” He sat up, moving the item to his lap, before looking back at you. Seeing you unfiltered by the mask was a whole new experience. It was like he was seeing you for the first time all over again. His heart began skipping every other beat. What did you think of his face? Tommy, Tubbo and Wilbur had seen it plenty of times, remembered it in other lifetimes when he did have a humanoid face, but this was your first time.

The grin that pulled your lips bigger slightly alleviated his worries, though. And you reached forward, touching his face like you had Tommy’s a hundred times while whispering a quiet “Wow” he didn’t know if he should have been flattered by. He let you trace your fingers over the scar over his nose and brush your thumb over his lower lip before you pulled his mouth open. You examined his slightly-sharper teeth with a fascination he didn’t know felt more clinical or childlike. Your expression turned oddly serious.

“I was wrong.” His veins suddenly felt like ice as you pulled your hand away. “You’re no person, Tech. You’re a god and I am lucky to be in your presence.”

The ice melted just as quickly as it had formed and his cheeks suddenly felt like they were aflame. He had been called that hundreds of times, but the way it rolled off your tongue sounded like reverence. He swallowed and looked away. You were wrong about having no power over him as well. You shouldn’t have been able to play with his emotions as easily as you did. “You’re cruel, [y/n].”

He smirked at the sound of your scoff as you feigned indignation before turning back to you. He watched your eyes widen before you reached for his face once more. He let you.

“This is the first time I’ve ever seen you smile.”

He prayed you thought his was as brilliant as yours.

Being close to others was a good thing, wasn’t it? Even if you didn’t share any memories with them, you’d still be there for them, no matter what.

Tommy had crawled into your bed once more while you slept. He had done so plenty of times during the revolution until L’Manburg had been won back. Now, he had his own house he could sleep comfortably in. But he had a key to your house. So as long as he locked the front door whenever he snuck in, when the mattress dipped at his weight, you would always peel open an eye before pulling the covers up for him to crawl under. You would never be upset with him about breaking in just to cuddle and eventually fall asleep. You would never mention it after the fact either. He didn’t need to be embarrassed in front of the others and face the taunts from not being able to sleep properly when he was alone. He just needed comfort sometimes. The blond was, after all, still a child just swept up in all of this.

You curled around him, his gangly limbs tucked into his chest awkwardly as you tried to give him the most paternal embrace possible. You didn’t press him for details like you used to, just tucked the golden braid you had weaved into his shaggy hair behind his ear and smile sleepily at him in hopes he would smile back.

He wouldn’t, but you never expected him to.

“Hey Toms?” He hummed in response, looking at the part of the pillow tucked under your throat. “Did I ever tell you the story about how the moon did the sun’s work every night because he loved her so much?”

“No.” His voice cracked, but you ignored it, choosing instead to roll onto your back to look at the stars through your skylight. You felt him do the same.

“Well, when the sun found the moon, it had just been happenstance. He was drinking tea under the large cherry tree in his garden and she was so tired. She had not stopped working. Day was the only thing anyone knew. Her light and warmth were so abundant, she was barely hanging on from the exhaustion it exerted on her. And so she collapsed in his garden, unconscious. He brought her into the shade of his tree and the world darkened. Plants and people died in the absence of light more than they had before. However, when she woke up and when they locked eyes, the world finally felt like it was spinning. He had been so kind to her. How could she not love him? But she kept it from him. She visited everyday and they would share tea and talk for hours. She sat just outside of the tree’s shade despite how tired it made her.”

You watched Tommy turn his head to watch you speak from the corner of your eye.

“Eventually he asked her “Why do you come everyday when you look so tired? Why don’t you rest?”. “Because I cannot. I must cast light onto my children and help them grow.” She replied. “Why do you never leave the shade of your tree?” He laughed at her question. “Because I cannot. The light is too bright and I will disappear.” She took his answer and they moved on.”

The blond listened to the voices you used for each character, slowly closing his eyes.

“One day, when she collapsed again, she was still conscious when the moon stepped out of his shade once more to rescue her. The world lightened once more, but only dimly. He reflected her warmth onto everything. It was a soft light and the people marveled at his beauty. He decided then he would take on half of her work when they had tea because he too loved her, but kept it to himself. And from then on, whenever she would visit for tea, he would sit outside of the comfort of his cherry tree, and she would perch herself under it and let him show his brightness to the world. And they were happy.”

You looked back at him, trying to not giggle at how sleepy he looked.

“Tha’s a lame story.” He quietly slurred and you shrugged your shoulders a little, rolling back over to face him fully.

“I think Phil would disagree.”

“Phil?”

“Yep. That’s his favorite story.” He pouted a little and your chest warmed at how childlike he looked.

“Then I think…” His voice was becoming softer, trailing off. “I think it’ll be mine too.”

You listened to his breathing soften before evening out completely and you’d fall back asleep.

People trusted you so much and you didn’t know what you did to deserve it.

The pendent was cold in your hands.

A silver heron stared up at you with a lone emerald eye and you prayed it wasn’t made from the same friendship emerald that Technoblade had gifted him with.

“I got that from a friend a long time ago. His child, Love, actually had it for a while when his mother passed, but when his kid suffered the same fate, Psarocolius gave it to me. Said it was bad luck or something.” You snorted and rolled your eyes.

“Wow, Phil. What an amazing gift.” Your sarcasm was palatable. He bopped the top of your head with a gentle chop of his hand.

“Shut. It’s a way to reach out to Kristin.” You had been complaining to him about how left out you felt whenever everyone else was talking about their previous lives, hoping the older man would have some good advice for you. “That’s why Psar’s wife and kid died. There was no other way.”

“So your wife just killed them off? How cold.” He shook his head.

“Nah, mate. They asked her to. She still feels awful about it.” You paused for a moment.

“But isn’t that technically your job now?” You watched the way his lips curled into a smile.

“I do it so I can see her more often. It gets tiring doing everything, you know.” You definitely knew. “But talk to her about it. See what the deal is.”

You snickered at the thought.

“It can’t be that easy.”

“It is.”

Now, in the heat of her presence, the pendent was even colder.

“Hey, [y/n]. I was wondering when you were going to come around.” You swallowed, a little overwhelmed.

“You were expecting me?”

“Well, not exactly. But you were probably going to want to talk to me eventually.” She arched a manicured eyebrow at you. Was every god this beautiful? “Now, why did-”

“Why don’t I have any past lives?” You watched how her eyes widened for a moment, stunned, before her pink lips parted as she laughed. It was warm, motherly enough to match Philza’s naturally fatherly one, and so lovely to listen to. She rested a hand on your cheek when it slowly quieted and you were faced with looking into her eyes that looked like they held every answer in the universe. You felt a little dumb for asking it straight out and floundered to recover. To explain yourself. “I don’t have any to remember. I want to have them, to share memories with everyone else.”

There was a slow build at the front of your brain.

“Well, who’s to say you don’t?”

The pressure continued growing. Your head ached in the worst way possible.

“Minds are weird. Sometimes you just shove things down and make yourself forget.”

You suddenly thought of a servant who tended to a woman you didn’t know. Images of things that had happened or might have flickered through your mind. Possibilities playing in loops. You remembered watching heroes save the city and the zombie apocalypse starting countless times. Your skull felt like it was splitting.

“All you need is a nudge in the right direction, and memories will just come back.”

There was laughter with Drista and Kristin herself. Stories on a computer screen. Childish fights echoing over a Discord call while you watched on in silence. First love, second love, third. Faces that weren’t yours smiling wide back at you. Mellohi playing softly in the background as hands you had seen countless times before cooked dinner.

“It hurts so much. Why does it hurt so much? I just want it to stop.” Kristin pet your hair with her other hand. Tears formed in the corners of your eyes and she shushed you.

You saw different versions of Techno’s sweet smiles. You felt the varied intensities of Wilbur’s stares, warm and cold. You savoured the several kinds of laughs Tommy shared with everyone around him. Would you ever experience any of them again? You would. You had to. Techno was your best friend, Tommy your little brother, Ghostbur your companion. You could not abandon them when you promised to always come back.

Your vision blurred black around the edges as stars danced across your eyes. You suddenly felt so very weak.

The goddess of life and death’s voice was muffled in your ears as your hearing slowly faded. The heron necklace slipped from your grip, but the sound of it hitting the ground didn’t reach you. Neither did the crash of your fall. Her words echoed around you as you lost consciousness.

“You’ll be okay.”

It was only a matter of time before you found out why.

[starshine583]

New Girl on the Block (18)

(Hey, everyone! I have an announcement to make! After posting this chapter, I am going to be taking a temporary leave due to family matters. They’re fun family matters, so don’t worry! but they will prevent me from writing any further chapters at this time. I plan to post the next chapter on June 27th. Sorry for the long wait! That’s just how things worked out, but I hope I’ll get to see you all then, and please enjoy this new update! Feel free to check out the mini series connected to this called Journal Entries!)

Ch. 1 / Ch. 17 / Ch. 19 (ao3)

Chapter 18: It’s the Little Moments

Felix grumbled to himself as he picked up his tie to pull it around his neck. Valentine’s Day parties were bad enough already with all of the love-sick couples that tended to crowd around him throughout the evening. Did he really have to further his torment by dressing up as well? His previous suit was perfectly fine for an event such as this. Fashionable, sleek, formal- there was no reason to change. Especially when it came to this ridiculous, unseemly-

“Oh, lighten up.” His mother told him, shooing his hands away so she could tie the tie herself. “It’s just a Valentine’s Day suit, and you’re wearing it for one night. There’s no need to scowl over it. I’m sure the other boys will be wearing some form of pink too.”

Felix scoffed. “Mother, don’t patronize me. You know I don’t care about the pink color. It’s the fact that you’re dressing me up to match the theme.”

Bridgette eyed him. “And?  You’re supposed to match the theme for parties. That’s why it’s called a theme.”

“But if I match the theme, other girls at the party will probably think I approve of the theme too.” Felix argued. “And then they’ll be asking me to dance or trying to talk with me in general. I’ll have to spend the entire evening trying to shoo them off.”

A laugh tumbled from his mother’s lips. “Aw~, it must be so exhausting having all of the girls fall in love with you.”

Felix shot her a flat look. “Would you want to spend an evening rejecting people?”

Bridgette tilted her head in a nod. “I’ll give you that one, but you know Allegra could always scare them off if they become too overbearing.”

Felix blew out a relenting sigh. He supposed that was true.

“Besides, even if the girls are chasing you, you still need to look nice Marinette, don’t you?”

Felix furrowed his eyebrows, confused. “No? Marinette’s not going to care what I look like, so long as I’m not a fashion disaster, that is.”

Which, in this suit, he might very well be, to be honest. Perhaps he should text her a warning.

“I thought you two were supposed to be going on a fake date tonight.” His mother replied, tugging lightly on Felix’s tie to straighten it.

Felix’s gaze snapped to her. “Where did you hear that?”

Bridgette chuckled, offering him a teasing glance as she said, “Oh, please. You know Allegra and I talk.”

Felix tisked and rolled his shoulders, making sure his suit wasn’t too tight. Of course Allegra would mention that ridiculous suggestion to his mother. Those two loved to gossip together, specifically about him.

“Well, we’re not.” He remarked, leveling out the annoyance in his tone. “That was just some frivolous idea that Claude came up with the other day.”

“Really? I thought the idea sounded rather exciting.”

Felix resisted the urge to scoff again. Her too? “Why on earth would it be exciting? You galivant around with someone, probably doing the exact same thing you would do with them on a normal basis, but you call it a ‘fake date’ for what? A good laugh when someone assumes you’re a real couple? I can’t wrap my brain around the reasoning.”

Another chuckle came from Bridgette. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t, but consider this: If you and Marinette pretend you’re dating for the evening, you might not have so many girls coming to ask you for a dance.”

Felix paused, his eyes widening slightly. That.. actually wasn’t such a bad idea. He might even consider it if the thought of asking Marinette didn’t sound so incredibly arrogant. ‘Would you mind being my fake date to help me escape the supposed hoards of girls who are going to chase after me tonight?’ You can’t convince him that that proposal didn’t sound anything less than tacky. She’d probably tease him about it the whole night.

“If it bothers you so much, though,” his mother spoke again, “why not ask Marinette out on a real date?”

Felix sputtered a bit at the comment, blurting out a bewildered, “Excuse me?”

Don’t get him wrong, Marinette was an extraordinary person and anyone who ended up with her would undoubtedly be lucky, but the very thought of him asking her out on a date felt.. strange. He couldn’t imagine asking her for anything more than what she was giving him right now, and he didn’t think there was anything she’d want from him when it came to a relationship anyway. Their dynamic was comfortable as it was. Why should they try to complicate things?

“Alright, alright, I was just asking.” his mother assured, almost seeming to laugh as she did. “You two are only friends. I understand.”

Something about the smile in her eyes told him that she didn’t understand, but he simply glanced to the side, electing to ignore it. Arguing wouldn’t change her mind either way, and in the end it was just a question. His friendship with Marinette wasn’t going to change over it, because neither of them harbored romantic feelings for each other. He was perfectly content to keep it that way. 

~~~~~~

Marinette stood in front of her vanity mirror, twisting her hair into a side ponytail for the fifth time that evening. She’d spent the last hour trying over and over again to perfect the hairstyle, but she could never seem to get it right. The ponytail was always too lopsided or too messy or the braid tied into it would begin to unwind. Now, the ponytail was tied tightly enough, but the braid was crooked, and there were too many stray hairs flying around for it to look neat. How can she still be struggling after practicing this for an hour?

“Ugh! I give up!” She huffed, throwing her hands down and staring ruefully at her nearly knotted locks. This is what she gets for taking the easy route and always putting her hair in pigtails. “I’m just going to stay home.”

“No, don’t do that!” Tikki quickly spoke up, flying to her holder’s side. “You’ve worked too hard on your dress to stay home! And your hair really doesn’t look all that bad. I’m sure no one will think twice about it.”

Marinette tisked, plopping into her rolling chair and crossing her arms. “But I’ll think about it, Tikki, and I’ll be more self-conscious than I was going to be before.”

Tonight wasn’t just a Valentine’s Day party for Marinette. That was mainly what it was, of course, but she also saw it as a sort of debut. With the amount of time she spent hanging around Allegra and Claude and the others, she hadn’t had time to truly meet her other classmates at Rosemary, but tonight, they would all be gathered together for her convenience and she would finally have a chance to introduce herself to the school as a whole. It was exhilarating.. and a tad frightening. She’d seen plenty of students in passing that appeared to be less than friendly. How were they going to react to her? Were they going to be as sweet as her current friends? Or did she happen to run into the best group in the school first? There was no telling.

“Try not to overthink it.” Her kwami said softly, though they both knew she would. “Why don’t you try a different hairstyle?”

“Because I don’t know any other hairstyles.” Marinette sighed. “Well.. I know a bun, I guess, but I really wanted this hairstyle for tonight. I feel like it would really bring the dress together, you know?”

“It would.” Tikki agreed. “And it does. But if you think you can’t figure it out-”

“Marinette! Felix is here to pick you up!”

Panic seized Marinette’s chest at the call, and she leapt out of her chair to look in the mirror again. Felix was there already? The party wasn’t for another thirty minutes! Why did he always have to be early? 

“Uh- j-just a second, Maman!” She called back, frantically trying to straighten her braid and smooth the wisps of hair around her ponytail. It didn’t work, unfortunately, so she threw a silver pin in her hair as a last ditch effort and made her way downstairs, trying not to whimper too much.

“Oh, Marinette, you look wonderful!” Her mother cooed as Marinette descended the stairs. “I need to go get Tom. Oh, and a camera!”

Marinette pulled a wince. They were going to have photo evidence of this failure of a hairstyle? 

“Maman, are you sure that’s necessary? I get dressed up like this all the time.” She tried to dissuade, but Sabine merely waved off her comment. 

“Of course it is! This is your first party at Rosemary. We must have pictures.”

“Best be prepared.” A voice cut in, catching Marinette’s attention immediately. “Claude will undoubtedly be thinking the same thing when we arrive.”

Marinette turned towards the front door with a smile, but a gasp escaped her when she saw Felix standing there. She knew it would be him, of course. She simply hadn’t expected him to be wearing a different outfit. 

“You..” She paused, briefly wondering if it would be rude to finish, then continued, “you changed your suit.”

Logically, she knew he had more than one suit. No one can wear the same suit forever, and Felix seemed to be too proper to do it even if he could. However, when he didn’t wear his usual suit, he continued to maintain the black and grey color scheme, so it never quite stuck with her that he’d changed. Tonight, though, his suit was entirely red, so deep a red that she might acquate it with blood, and he had a wonderfully pink tie on, along with a pink cloth folded in his front vest pocket to complement it. The sight nearly knocked her off her feet. He was even matching the party’s theme! She didn’t think he cared for things such as that.

A smirk ghosted Felix’s lips, and he nodded. “Yes, courtesy of my mother. I see you changed your hair as well.”

A blush crept across her cheeks, and Marinette reached up to feel how horrible the hairstyle was again. Here Felix was, doing his best and looking great as always, and she was just standing there looking like a mess. Typical.

“O-Oh, yeah, I mean.. I tried to change it. I don’t think it worked out too well..” She muttered, glancing down at the ground. Maybe she still had time to take it out before they left? 

Felix’s footsteps brought her gaze back upwards, and she watched him cross the room to her. His eyes were squinted ever-so-slightly, the way they always were when he was pondering something, and once he was close enough, he reached out, his hand lightly tracing over the side braid she’d attempted. 

Marinette stood still, allowing him to ‘examine’ her for a moment before saying, “It’s awful, isn’t it? I couldn’t get anything to stay where it was supposed to.”

Felix hummed absently, bringing his hand down to let the tip of her ponytail slide off of his fingertips. “No, not awful. If you practice a few more times, I’m sure it would be perfect.”

Marinette blew out a small sigh. That meant it wasn’t perfect now.

“Do you have the reference you used? If I see it, I might be able to straighten the braid out before we leave at least.” Felix inquired, causing Marinette’s eyes to widen. Oh?

“You know how to do hair?”

“Not quite,” he admitted, “but I learned some of the basics during a few sleepovers. For some reason, Claude and Allegra thought it important that I had a decent grasp on the subject.”

A smile came to Marinette’s lips. That sounded like something they would do. “And you think you can fix my hairstyle from your limited knowledge?”

“Possibly, if you have reference,” Felix smirked, “but it’s alright if you prefer to keep what you have.”

“Oh no, please.” Marinette said, quickly pulling her phone out of her heart shaped purse. “Anything’s probably better than what I have in now. Are you sure we have time, though?”

Felix nodded. “I always leave around ten or fifteen minutes ahead of schedule, so we should have plenty of time.”

Marinette nodded as well and opened the reference video she’d used for her hairstyle. Felix took the phone from her and watched it once or twice as she pulled out the pins in her hair. Then, when everything was down again, Felix handed the phone back to her and let it play in her hands for a third time while he set to work. His fingers brushed through her hair, carefully separating the different locks and tying them together. The feeling behind it was quite strange, mostly because she could hardly feel it at all. His hands were so gentle, so cautious that even when he had to tug on her hair to tighten the braid, it seemed as light as a cloud. Felix was always soft like that. He spoke harshly to others and liked to scowl often, but when it came to his actions, she couldn’t recall a single time he’d been rough. 

Recently, she’s been hearing that secret softness in his voice too, and it never failed to make her smile. 

“Aw, did her hair fall out?”

Sabine’s voice brought the two’s gaze to the living room doorway. She was standing there with Tom, a camera in her hands and a slight, disappointed frown on her lips.

“No, I took it out.” Marinette assured over her shoulder. “Felix offered to do the hairdo himself so it would look better.”

“Oh, how gentlemanly of him.” Tom chimed in with a satisfied smile. 

“Do you mind if I get a picture?” Sabine requested, prepping the camera in her hands.

“Uh..” Marinette looked to Felix as best she could. “Are you okay with that?”

“I don’t mind.” Felix shrugged. “Mother already bombarded me with pictures before I left. What’s a few more?”

Marinette chuckled. “You said she was the one who gave you the suit right?”

“No, she’s the one who made me wear it.” Felix corrected. “Something about having to match the theme.”

“Ah, I see.” Marinette said. She should have known Felix wouldn’t throw away his black and grey color scheme willingly. “She has great taste. You’ll have to let me meet her sometime so I can tell her ‘thank you’.”

A playful scoff passed his lips and brushed against her ear. “You know, I’m sure she would be delighted to do just that.”

*Click!*

The camera flash brought the two’s attention back to Sabine and Tom, who were both holding giddy smiles at this point.

“I think you both look fantastic.” Tom grinned. “Those boys will be falling over each other to get to Marinette tonight, I’m sure.”

Felix hummed as he twisted her hair to pin it into a side ponytail, muttering, “I quite agree.”

The comment was soft and absent, and it sent a blush exploding across Marinette’s face. That’s the second time he’s agreed to her being pretty and a supposed ‘boy magnet’. Does he ever think about what he’s saying or is it just some logical fact to him that shouldn’t mean anything? She’s not sure which one she prefers. 

“Done.” 

Felix’s hands fell back to his sides, and Marinette reached up to feel the hairstyle- gently, though, so as not to mess it up. The pull of the bobby pins was comfortable and tight, and her braid felt nice and straight as she grazed her fingers over it. Overall, it felt perfect, which was exactly what she’d wanted.

“Thanks, Felix.” She said, offering him a quick smile as she checked the reflection in her phone. “It looks great. You’re a life-saver.”

“And you two are going to be late if you don’t hurry up.” Her maman cut in. “Now gather together for a picture so we can send you off.”

Marinette rolled her eyes with a smile and tucked her phone back in her purse, then turned to stand next to Felix. He, in turn, straightened slightly next to her and clasped his hand behind his back for the picture.

“Alright, say cheese!” Sabine coaxed, holding up her camera.

The pair smiled. “Cheese!”

*Click!*

~~~~~~~

Claude’s grin stretched from ear to ear as he watched his fellow Rosemary students pile into the Mandarin Oriental. As usual, people of all shapes and sizes were here. The ‘cool’ kids, the music kids, the nerd kids, the geeks, the dancers- anyone and everyone who had a popular status at the school, along with a good group of others who counted as the stalking crowd. The younger, less-popular students who tended to follow the social hierarchies like loyal dogs. The ‘baby paparazzis’, if you will. They were all crowding inside with an urgency that only his- and Allegra and Allan and Marinette and Felix’s -parties could bring. Soon, Marinette and Felix will be there as well, and then the fun will really begin.

“Alright, Marinette just texted.” Allegra spoke up behind him. She was currently hovering around the buffet table to ensure the punch drinks were being dispersed properly. Claude, of course, was hovering around Allegra in case she needed his help with anything. 

“She said they’re parking now.” His ‘fake date’ continued, glancing over her phone screen as she re-read the text. “You remember what to do, right?”

Claude huffed out a playful scoff, reaching for the platter of shrimp as he replied, “Of course I do. Take her onto the dance floor to help her get comfortable in the ‘party atmosphere’, convince her to dance with Felix while you convince Felix to dance with her, and-”

Allegra slapped his hand, coaxing a yelp from the brunette.

“Don’t touch the shrimp until the other guests have some first.” She scolded.

Claude rubbed his hand with a pout. So touchy. Why should he have to wait for the guests to eat? If they wanted shrimp, they should come up and get some. Why can’t he have the food that he helped pay for? (Well, the food that his parents helped pay for.)

“And keep your voice down too.” Allegra added, flipping her hair over her shoulder when it fell in the way. Wearing it in a half-up-half-down style wasn’t nearly as convenient as her casual braid, but he had to admit, the free curls that fell around her shoulders were extremely nice. “Do you know the amount of people here who would love to get their grubby little hands on the fact that we’re trying to set stubborn, stuck-up, stone-faced Felix with the new, cotton-candy-sweet, bakery-girl Marinette? The gossip would reach both of them within seconds.”

“Yeah, it probably would.” He agreed. “But at least they’ll both know they like each other then. Saves us the trouble, right?”

Allegra shot him a flat look, meaning he probably said something wildly inaccurate again.

“Claude, the only gossip that would be spreading would be the fact that we’re trying to get them together. Not that they like each other. How do you think Felix is going to react when he realizes we’re playing matchmaker? What about Marinette? I think they’d probably be a little uncomfortable considering neither of them probably think that the other person likes them. Which is why we decided to be subtle about this in the first place.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“That makes sense.”

“Yes, it does.” Allegra said, crossing her arms. “So keep your voice down when talking about it from now on, please.”

Claude nodded, leaning back on the buffet table as he faced the crowd again. “Sure, sorry.”

This was going to be a tough evening, trying to get Marinette and Felix together while not blurting the scheme out to the world. He just felt like everything would be easier if they simply talked to each other about it openly. But Allegra was more perceptive than he was. She probably knew things he didn’t about the situation. So he’ll go along with her plan and hope it works out. 

Besides, this way he gets to mess with Felix as much as he wants. And he won’t get scolded, this time! 

And if everything does work out, Marinette and Felix will be all the happier for it.

Win-win-win-win.

“Hey, guys.” Allan spoke up, joining them at the table and swiping a shrimp. “Do you know if Felix and Marinette are here yet? I haven’t seen them.”

Allegra opened her mouth to scold him about the shrimp as she had Claude, but Allan popped it into his mouth before she could. Claude held back a snort, watching Allegra purse her lips in annoyance. If he couldn’t have a shrimp, at least Allan got one.

“They’re on their way up now.” The blonde replied with narrowed eyes, unbeknownst to Allan. “They just parked a few minutes ago.”

“Cool. We’re still having Claude do his thing, right?”

“Yep.” Claude said, a devilish grin spreading across his lips. “And I am so ready to cause mischief.”

Allegra snorted and lightly nudged him in the arm. “Not too much mischief. This is supposed to be romantic, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Claude waved her off. “I’ll get them to be romantic. After I get to mess with them.”

“Claude-”

“Oh- there they are! Hey, guys!” 

Claude perked up at the interruption, the familiar voice drawing his gaze to the front of the Mandarin Oriental. It was the very voice they’d been waiting for, and the source wasn’t hard to find.

Marinette and Felix were making their way through the crowd towards them, Marinette clearly excited as she waved them down with a bright smile. The designer dress she was wearing looked fantastic, as Felix had predicted, and the hearts littering it matched the theme perfectly. She even had her hair all done up tonight! (Which really brought out the elegance of the dress, in his opinion.) An outfit like that was only going to make his job of setting up a romantic thought process between the two that much easier.

(Of course, with the way Felix was staring at Marinette right now, Claude had a feeling that that thought process might already be set up.)

“Hey!” he greeted, meeting the pair halfway to give Marinette a hug. Was it the flowers on the table or did this girl actually smell like roses tonight? Did she use a special perfume? Oh, Allegra was going to love this.

“You two look awesome! I was starting to think you’d never get here.” He teased, stepping back again to get a better view of her face. She decided to go with a pinker shade of lipstick tonight, along with a glittering, light pink eyeshadow, and it’s a wonder that Felix hasn’t collapsed from swooning at this point. (Though maybe Claude can catch that when the two dance later. The video footage would be priceless!)

Marinette let out a light laugh, touching the tip of her side ponytail with a sheepish smile. “Yeah, sorry about that. Felix was helping me with my hair.”

“Aw, Felix!” Allegra cooed, coming up behind Claude just then to join them. “You did Marinette’s hair? It looks lovely.”

“I knew those lessons would come in handy.” Claude smirked. 

“Yes, who would’ve guessed?” Felix muttered, briefly rolling his eyes, but Claude wasn’t fooled. He could hear the almost airy tone to Felix’s voice, see his eyes soften anytime he so much as glanced at Marinette. That guy had probably been ecstatic to do Marinette’s hair, and he just didn’t want to show it. 

He would, though.. Soon enough.

“Hey, guys.” Allan chimed in, finally joining them as well. “You both look great. I haven’t seen Felix wear that dark of red in a while.”

“Or red in general.” Allegra remarked with a smile. 

“Or pink.” Claude added, eyeing Felix’s shirt sleeves. “Actually, I haven’t seen you wear anything besides gray or black since Marinette had you wear that green, plaid shirt after the ‘flour incident’.”

“In other words.. Your mom made you wear that, didn’t she?” Allegra asked lightheartedly.

“Of course she did.” Felix said. “Why else would I wear it?”

“Well, I imagine you’d just want to look nice.” Claude joked, wrapping his arm around Felix’s shoulders and ignoring the blond’s scowl. “Either way, remind your mom how awesome she is for me when you get home.”

“I’m sure she already knows.” Felix replied curtly, shoving Claude’s arm off of him again.

A giggle brought Claude’s attention back to Marinette, who was now observing the party with sparkling interest.

“Everything looks incredible, you guys!” She nearly squealed. “The lights, the flowers, the food.. But I thought the party started at six. Did I get the times mixed up again?”

“No, it does- er, did.” Claude said. “People just get excited and like to get in as soon as they can.”

“Oh.” Marinette muttered, relief smoothing out her features. “So we’re not late?”

“Not at all. In fact..” Claude swept into a bow, offering his hand to her with a grin. “We were just about to start the dancing. Would you mind giving me the honors?”

A surprised laugh fell from Marinette’s lips. “Me? I thought Allegra was your ‘fake date’ for the evening.”

“She is, but I have to save the best for last, right?” Claude threw a wink at Allegra, who also let out a laugh and rolled her eyes. The slight blush on the her cheeks gave her away, though, and it caused his grin to widen.

Marinette gave an “Aw~.” and slipped her hand into his. “Well, in that case, I’d be delighted to dance with you.”

“Great!” Claude cheered, pulling her close. 

They glided onto the dance floor, quickly catching the attention of the room, and with that, the first part of the plan fell into place. Claude was dancing with Marinette. Now he needed to convince her to dance with Felix.

Out of the corner of his eye, Claude could already see Felix starting to flounder. He simply stood there, quietly watching them dance with that neutral expression of his and occasionally looking elsewhere. Without Marinette to anchor him in a room of people, the blond would no doubt resort to being a wallflower again and wander over to some corner. A nice, hidden corner where Allegra could easily- and discreetly -convince Felix to dance with Marinette. They all knew him too well.

“Are we the only ones dancing?” Marinette asked, bringing Claude’s attention back to her.

“For now,” he confirmed, “but someone has to start it, right? Look, they’re already joining in.”

“I guess that’s true..” Marinette said, glancing at the few couples that had indeed started to join them. “I don’t normally dance all that much, to be honest. So it’s a little weird for me to be the one starting it for once.”

Claude laughed and took a step back to spin her around. “Really? You’re a natural at it!”

“Oh, thanks. That’s a relief to hear.” Marinette smiled, hobbling into a spin.

“Course. But you know who else is a natural at it?”

Marinette hummed. “Let me guess.. Is it you?”

Claude snorted. “Well, duh, but I was actually talking about Felix.”

Marinette’s eyes widened. “Felix?”

“Yeah! He takes waltzing classes at the school and everything, but he never dances! Can you believe it?”

A chuckle passed Marinette’s lips. “Kind of. This is Felix we’re talking about. Maybe his mom wanted him to take dance lessons like she wanted him to wear that tuxedo.”

“Maybe.. But it’s still a shame to waste such carefully crafted skills. You should try to get him to dance tonight.”

Marinette snorted. “Oh? And who would I get him to dance with? He doesn’t like getting close to random people.” 

Claude hummed. “Now, that’s a question, isn’t it? Who should dance with Felix tonight..” 

He made a show of looking around the dance floor as he and Marinette waltzed in a circle, then looked back to her. “..Why don’t you dance with him?”

Marinette nearly tripped over her own two feet at the suggestion, and Claude had to hold back a smile. Was she getting flustered? That’s a good sign.

“You want me to.. Are you sure he’d be comfortable with that? I’m pretty sure he doesn’t even want to dance.”

“Come on, who else could get Felix to dance?” Claude insisted. “He’ll say yes if it’s you, and we can’t let him be a wallflower forever.”

Marinette let out a soft laugh, looking quite bashful as a blush curled onto her cheeks, and she glanced over at Felix. He was already standing next to the wall near the punch bowl, looking idle as he watched the dancing crowd. 

“I don’t know, Claude. I think he rather enjoys being a wallflower.”

Claude chuckled. “Just say you’ll try? At the very least, it’ll make Allegra happy to see Felix out and about.”

Marinette turned her attention back to him and smiled. “..Alright. I guess I’ll try, but no promises about actually getting him to dance.”

“Deal.” Claude grinned. Mission success!

“On an entirely different note, though, your dress is incredible. You made that yourself, right?”

Marinette brightened and nodded. “Yes, I did! I had lots of fun with it so I’m glad you guys like it.”

“Aw, I’m pretty sure I’d like anything you make. You always put a cool twist on things.” Claude smiled. “By the way, how’s my prince suit coming along? Have you started it yet?”

“I have! It’s actually pretty close to being done. I’m on the ‘details’ stage.”

A gasp of delight escaped him. He hadn’t realized how close she was to finishing it! 

“Oh, sweet! You’re gonna have to come over to my house when you finish it. We can even have a mini-fashion show for you!”

Marinette giggled. “That sounds like a blast.”

“Yes!” Claude briefly let go of Marinette’s waist to pump his fist. “Man, am I glad you came to Rosemary. I mean, not just because of the prince suit- even though that is pretty awesome -but also because you’re a fun person to be around, ya know? Everyone thinks so.”

“Really?” Marinette’s steps lagged slightly, clearly taken aback by the statement. “That’s.. Thank you. That means a lot to me.”

For a moment, she almost looked relieved.. Or even sad. But another blinding smile appeared before he could figure out why.

“I think you guys are fun to be around too.” She said warmly.

Claude smiled, feeling his uneasiness melt away. She didn’t sound sad or solemn at all. He was probably just imagining things, or seeing a trick of the light.

“Excuse me.”

Claude and Marinette slowed to a stop, turning to another boy who had come to interrupt them. 

“Mind switching off with me?” He asked, offering his hand to Marinette. Was that even allowed during an informal dance such as this?

Nevertheless, Claude caught Marinette’s eye. “What do you say, Mari? Wanna switch off?”

Marinette blinked. “Oh- uh -sure. If you’re okay with it.”

“Absolutely.” Claude smirked, jokingly spinning Marinette into the other boy’s arms. “Just don’t forget your promise to try!”

Marinette chuckled as she re-situated herself into the dance position. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Claude watched the two dance away, smiling proudly at the seed he’d sown for Marinette and Felix’s romantic evening. Allegra was surely going to be pleased with his work, and he was going to be pleased watching it unfold.

Now to get that shrimp.

~~~~~~~

Felix leaned against the wall, quietly observing the other party members dance, specifically Marinette. Her smile shined brightly as a boy twirled her, and her shoulders shook with giggles when the boy dipped her a second later. She appeared to be enjoying herself, and Felix was enjoying watching her. He had a feeling the other boys from Rosemary would be showering her with attention tonight- it was one of the rare times when she wasn’t being smothered by himself and the trio, after all -but he was admittedly surprised by the amount of stamina she possessed. It’d been at least an hour or two since the dancing started, yet she was still going as strong as ever, non-stop.

Well, he supposed it wasn’t non-stop. She had spun over to his little corner a few times to talk, which was how he ended up carrying two cups of punch instead of his one. Still, she should probably take a seat soon. Those heels she’d decided to wear were bound to be painful after a while. Perhaps he should grab her attention and find an empty table-

“U-um, excuse me, Felix?”

Felix glanced to his right, meeting the face of a girl that seemed vaguely familiar and a tad timid. She stood a certain distance away from him, her lips stretched into a nervous smile, and gave a little wave. Was that all she intended to do?  

“Can I help you?” He asked, raising a brow.

“Oh- well-” The girl faltered, as though she hadn’t expected to get this far, and rubbed her arm. “A-actually, I was wondering if maybe you’d like to.. Dance? With me. Of course.”

Ah, Felix thought, heaving a mental sigh. He should have known that that would be her intention. Now her visible anxiety made sense.

“Apologies, but I don’t dance.” He replied smoothly.

The girl’s shoulders sank. “Oh.. really? I thought you took waltzing classes at the school.”

Felix schooled a neutral expression, if only to avoid glaring. What, was she stalking him or something?

“I assure you they are for my Mother’s pleasure only, but I myself do not dance.” He said, a flatter note in his voice than before. Take the hint.

Thankfully, she did, but not in the way Felix was hoping.

“Ah, I see.. How about I keep you company then?” The girl suggested, getting entirely too comfortable next to him. “You’ve been over here by yourself for a while now.”

Felix’s grip on the cups tightened. So she was stalking him. 

“While I appreciate the gesture, it’s quite unnecessary. I’m simply waiting for my friend to get back.”

“Your friend?” The girl asked, glancing into the crowd curiously. “You mean the black-haired girl who gave you that drink, right?”

Felix held back another scowl, his eye twitching. Seriously, how long had this girl been watching him? Didn’t she have someone better to bother? There were plenty of other guys here that would be willing to dance or talk with her. Why did she have to choose to annoy him specifically?

“Her hair is raven, and yes, she’s the one that gave me this drink.” He responded curtly, taking a sip of his own punch.

The girl nodded thoughtfully, blissfully unaware of his thinning patience. “I guess her hair does have a blue shine to it. Do you want me to hold one of the drinks? I imagine they get heavy after a while.”

Felix pulled the drinks away from her grasp, finally fixing her with a look. 

I want you to mind your business, you little-

“Felix!”

Marinette’s punch was plucked from his hands, and an arm settled on his left shoulder. He whipped to the new interruption, thinking what now? and about ready to snap at someone, until he saw Allegra’s smiling face. She must have noticed him getting irritated and came over to investigate.

“You look like you’re having fun.” She said brightly, swirling Marinette’s punch in her hand. “Thanks for holding my drink for me.”

Felix winced, practically feeling the gears in the girl’s head turning. He’d just told her that the drink was Marinette’s, not Allegra’s. She was no doubt going to pick up on that. (Unless she was dimmer than he gave her credit for. That could always be a possibility.)

“Wait-” The girl said, her brows furrowing. Great. “Your drink? Felix just told me that that raven-haired girl gave him the drink.”

Felix gave Allegra a tired look. Try getting out of this one now.

At least she got Marinette’s hair color right that time.

Allegra ignored Felix’s look, instead throwing the girl a sharp smile. It was a rare sight to behold, but a welcome one. (So long as it wasn’t directed at him, of course.) It meant she was preparing herself to tear someone apart.

“Yes,” She replied shortly, “I gave the drink to Marinette, so she could give it to Felix. Is there a problem?”

The girl frowned. “But that doesn’t make any sense. I saw her-”

“You don’t believe me?” Allegra cut her off. “That’s rather rude to say to the hostess of the party, don’t you think? Go ask her yourself if you’re so skeptical. I wouldn’t recommend coming back to me afterwards, though.”

The girl huffed and crossed her arms, but turned around anyway, marching right off to a small group of girls that must have encouraged her to come talk with him in the first place. They swarmed her quickly, asking what happened and glaring at Allegra, but all Felix cared to do was take Marinette’s punch back from the blonde.

“I’m grateful, but I’m still going to need this back.” He said.

Allegra laughed and straightened to throw her hands in the air as a sign of surrender. “Fine with me. I didn’t realize you’d grown so attached to the beverage.”

Felix rolled his eyes. “I didn’t. You just might drink it by accident while we’re talking.”

Allegra tilted her head in a nod. “That’s a fair assumption. So what did that girl want from you?”

He sighed. “A dance. What else would people be asking me for at this ridiculous party?”

“Hey, it’s not ridiculous.” Allegra argued. “Marinette’s having a pretty good time.”

Felix’s gaze swept over the crowd again, finding Marinette easily as she switched off to a new dance partner. Her smile was contagious as always, and it spread onto Felix’s lips with little resistance.

“Yes, I suppose she is.” He agreed, taking another sip of his punch.

Allegra leaned against the wall next to him with a light chuckle. “You know, I bet if Marinette asked you to dance with her, you would.”

Felix scoffed at the implication her tone gave. Of course he would dance with Marinette if she asked, but only because it would make her happy, not because he wanted to dance with her. (Not that he particularly minded dancing with her either-)

“She wouldn’t ask me to dance,” he said before his thoughts could get out of hand, “because she knows I don’t fancy it.”

Allegra hummed. “Maybe you should ask her then.”

Felix shot her a look. This was going to be as tiresome as the other girl, wasn’t it?

“And why would I do that?”

“Because you need to not be a total wallflower this evening.” Allegra smiled. “And it would make Marinette happy. She’s already danced with Allan and Claude tonight, but with your professional lessons, I’m sure she’d have a blast.”

“I believe we just established that she is already having a blast.” Felix remarked, to which Allegra groaned.

“Just think about it, alright?”

“Unlikely.”

Why should he have to entertain an uncomfortable idea when Marinette was already enjoying herself? Granted, dancing with her didn’t sound awful, but the thought that it might encourage others to attempt dancing with him did. People were already asking him to dance while he was hiding near a wall. Imagine how many girls would come out of the woodwork once they actually saw him dancing.

Allegra rolled her eyes and waved him off. “Alright, whatever. I’m going back to the buffet table. Feel free to walk over if you start getting the urge to snap on someone again.”

Felix smirked. “In other words, I’ll see you in a few minutes?”

Allegra snorted as she walked away, and Felix settled back against the wall.. Just in time to see Marinette making her way towards him from the midst of the crowd. She appeared to be out of breath, though she offered him a tired smile when they locked eyes, and he moved forward to meet her halfway. That way she won’t have to trek all the way across the room for a drink.

“Are you finally taking another break?” He asked, handing her her punch when they joined at the edge of the crowd.

Marinette breathed out a laugh and took her drink with a “thanks”. It amazed him how well her outfit was staying together. The bow that held the dress together over her shoulders hadn’t loosened at all, and her hair seemed to be in place as well, save for a few stray strands. One would think that that amount of dancing would have her looking more disheveled.

“Yeah, just for a second.” She panted. “I’m starting to get dizzy from spinning so much.”

Felix chuckled. “Would you like to go find a table for a bit?”

“Uh..” Marinette glanced around the room for a moment, thinking it over. “You know what? Sure. I could sit for a bit.”

Felix smiled and gestured for her to lead the way, though he did point out an empty table that he had spotted earlier.

Marinette sat down first, with Felix pulling out her chair for her, and he sat down next to her. Their position faced the party rather than the wall, which allowed them- or at least Marinette -to continue enjoying the party atmosphere while they spoke.

“So are you having a decent time?” Marinette asked, taking a quick sip of her punch. “I know parties aren’t your thing, but you’re not too miserable, right?”

A bitter laugh escaped him, and he twirled his cup on the table as he said, “Miserable is certainly a good word to describe this evening.”

“Aw~, I’m sorry. Do you think going out to get some air would help?”

Felix offered her a smile. “That sounds delightful, but it’s as you said: Parties simply aren’t my preference. This party especially.”

Marinette’s eyebrows knitted together. “Because it’s a Valentine’s Day party or because there are so many people?”

“The Valentine’s Day theme.” Felix confirmed. “Not only are people more inclined to invade my personal space, but they also like to make the ‘Day of Love’ about romance exclusively. It diminishes the other definition to a ridiculous amount in my opinion.”

“Other definitions?” Marinette inquired. “What do you mean?”

Felix allowed a small, humorous smile to catch his lips. She’d just inadvertently proven his point right there. People were so focused on the romantic sense of love that they seemed to forget the several other types of love that exist. 

“There’s more than one type of love, such as platonic love or familial love. In fact, the Greeks had seven different words for love. I believe they’re all important, so to see them all be dwindled down to just romantic love is aggravating.”

“Huh..” Marinette muttered, absorbing his words. “I never knew about the Greeks using seven different words for love. What were they?”

Felix briefly glanced up in thought. “If I remember correctly, they were Philia, Ludus, Storge, Philautia, Pragma, Agape, and Eros.”

“Wow.” Marinette smiled. “They sound beautiful. What do they mean?”

Felix smirked as well. Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Always willing to listen and learn from my random facts.

“Well, the meanings are all decently complicated, but I supposed they can be summed up to this: Philia is the type of intimate love between friends. Ludus is the playful and ‘exciting’ type of love that one would get with a random crush. Storge is familial love, Philautia is the love of self, Pragma is the enduring type of love- which is the type of love needed for marriages or serious relationships -Agape is the unconditional love for humanity as a whole- which I clearly do not have-” He gained a snort from that “-and Eros is that of sexual love.”

The meaning of the last one felt a bit awkward on his tongue, but he pushed away the uneasiness. She had asked for the definitions, after all.

“I like those definitions.” Marinette said, a soft look coming to her features. “It’s cool that you know so much about them.”

“I have mentioned that I enjoy knowing things.”

Marinette giggled. “So you have. Just out of curiosity, though- and this may be a bit contradictory to the conversation -but have you ever had a crush on anyone? Or just, you know.. Been in a relationship in general? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

Felix’s eyes widened slightly. He honestly hadn’t expected her to ever ask him such a thing. It made sense, considering the topic of the conversation they were having, but it was still surprising coming from her.

Nevertheless, he answered. 

“No, neither. I’ve never been interested in anyone enough to pursue them, and anyone interested in me has always been too clingy. If I wanted someone to fawn over me constantly, I would simply invite Claude and Allegra to my house more often.”

For some reason, his answer didn’t feel quite right as he said it, and he found himself gauging Marinette’s reaction. Did he answer the question incorrectly? Was she going to be upset? Or possibly disappointed? Why would she be either? How could there possibly be an ‘incorrect’ answer to the question he’d just been asked?

Marinette snorted, clearly not upset at all, and it left him wondering why he’d bothered to worry.

“I figured you’d say that. You don’t seem like the type to get caught up in feelings like that.”

Felix nodded, though he silently questioned what she meant by the comment. Was she implying that he couldn’t get caught up in those types of feelings? Why did that seem so offensive to him?

“What about you?” he asked, brushing his thoughts to the side. He was just being ridiculous anyway. “Have you ever had romantic feelings towards another or been in a relationship?”

He already knew about her affections for Adrien Agreste, of course, but he’d yet to find out how far they went. And, on top of that, there was always the possibility of her having more than one lover. So it only made sense to ask the question, especially since she had asked him first.

A grimace overtook her features, clearly telling him that she had, in fact, had a romantic encounter before.

“Well.. I’ll admit I’ve had a lot of crushes, but there was this one that really got me. You, uh, you’ve actually met him already. Technically, anyway.”

Felix took a guess. “Adrien Agreste?”

She nodded, a bitter smile coming to her lips. “Cliché, right? The baker girl falling for the famous model..” She glanced down at her drink, absently tilting the cup to watch the liquid swirl. “I didn’t like him because he was a model, though. I liked him because he was sweet, and he was thoughtful, and.. I don’t know, I guess I thought.. that we could live a happy life together.”

Felix frowned at the cloud that seemed to pass over her, the pain that swelled in her eyes. He hadn’t realized how strong her attachment to Agreste was.

Marinette shook her head, breaking free of the thought process, and plastered on a smile. “I’m sorry, you didn’t ask about that.”

“No, it’s alright.” He assured her. “You can’t let things weigh on your mind unattended. If you feel you need to talk about it, then I’m willing to lend an ear.”

Marinette’s posture relaxed, relief making her smile a bit more genuine as she said, “Thank you. I appreciate it.. I don’t have any feelings for him now, but the pain is.. It still comes back, especially with how things ended. Sometimes I wish it had been different, sometimes I wish I had been different, and sometimes I wish I hadn’t fallen for him at all.. but mostly, I’m just glad it’s over.”

“What happened?”

“Well.. nothing happened, to be honest. And I think that was the hardest part.” Marinette drew in a deep breath, allowing herself to relax before continuing, “He came to my school a little over two years ago. Everyone was excited, but I didn’t even know who he was. When I did find out, though, we actually had a little bit of a misunderstanding. It’s funny when I think about it now, the way things turned out during that first day.”

“He apologized about it later, even though it wasn’t his fault, and I think that’s when I started to see him as something more than a friend. The more I got to know him, the more I started falling head over heels, and soon my friends found out about it. They thought we would be a great couple too, which kind of made me excited, and we all started planning these elaborate schemes to get him to notice me.”

She put her head in her hands and groaned. “It was so embarrassing, Felix, you should have seen them. One even involved me dressing up like a cat since he loved Chat Noir so much.” 

Felix grimaced, though he tried not to show it. Marinette dressing up like a cat for some random guy’s attention? He couldn’t even fathom it. Who came up with that suggestion?

“Did it.. work?” He almost hesitated to ask.

Marinette laid her head on the table then, shaking it with a whine. “Not even close. This group of dogs saw me on my way over, and I guess my costume was too convincing because they chased me all around Paris. I ended up muddy and scratched up when Adrien actually saw me, which didn’t help at all.”

Felix was careful not to react, but he almost felt the need to pat her on the shoulder. How had she not died from embarrassment yet? If someone put him through that, he’d never go outside again.

“You see? That’s how all of it was. All. of. It.” Marinette said, lifting her head again to lean her chin into her palm. “Two years I spent chasing after him, making all of these plans and trying to catch his eye just once, but no matter what I did, I was only ever his ‘good friend’. A-And I’m not saying I hated being his friend or anything, I just.. I was trying so hard to be more, wondering why I wasn’t enough, and my friends were constantly cheering me on to keep going. It was exhausting.”

Felix offered her a sympathetic look as she went on, though he couldn’t help feeling annoyed by the story. What kind of ‘friends’ did she use to have that they would willingly push her to make a fool of herself in front of her love? What kind of friends would encourage her to continue chasing after someone who clearly wasn’t interested in her? That wasn’t healthy at all, and he could only imagine how miserable it would have made her.

Wait..

“Is that why he’s coming to see you now?” Felix asked. (or more of blurted out.) “Because of your previous feelings for him?”

“Oh, no.” Marinette said, going so far as to let out a laugh. “No, I doubt he’s ever going to see me in that light, but it’s still frustrating that he’s trying to visit me. Moving to Rosemary was supposed to be an easy break, but he just has to follow me here too.. Again, it’s not that I mind being his friend or anything, it’s.. I need time. To get over him. I don’t like the person I became when I only lived to gain his affection, and it’s hard to get over that mindset, ya know?”

Felix nodded. He didn’t quite understand her experience since he’d never loved someone himself, but he knew that old habits were hard to break, and that love can be known as an intoxicating and addicting emotion. It wouldn’t be easy to get rid of.

“You’re strong for deciding that.” He said sincerely. “It takes an immense amount of will power to let go of something that you think will make you happy, but I believe you’re right in thinking you’ll be better for it.”

Marinette pulled a small smile, twisting the small tip of her ponytail. “Thanks. I hope I am.”

Felix smiled as well and turned his chair to face Marinette more fully. He wanted to ensure that she would hear the words he was about to say.

“Marinette, you are.. an incredible person. And I’m not just telling you this to lift your spirits, I am saying it because it’s true. You are talented, intelligent, kind, and capable all on your own. You don’t need anyone to validate how amazing you are, because it’s evident in everything you do, and I truly hope you don’t ever doubt yourself because of Adrien’s foolishness.”

A blush bloomed across Marinette’s cheeks, and she glanced down to fiddle with her hands. “O-Oh, uhm.. Thanks.. Again. I won’t.”

Felix smiled, satisfied with the reaction, and picked up his cup to extend it towards her.

“Here,” he said light-heartedly, “to finding someone new, someone who appreciates you, even if that someone is yourself.”

Marinette giggled and picked up her drink as well, clinking the glasses together. “To finding someone new.”

Felix took a sip of his cup to complete the toast, but to his surprise, Marinette set hers to the side, instead standing up and offering her hand to him.

“Let’s go dance.”

Felix choked on his drink.

“Pardon?”

“Come on, it’ll be fun!” Marinette insisted. “I mean, you only have to come if you want to, of course, but I haven’t danced with you yet, and Claude said that you took waltzing lessons at the school.”

Felix held back a scoff and glanced around the room, hoping to catch Claude’s eyes so he could glare at him. Why did that dolt keep telling people he took waltzing lessons? It only made it harder for Felix’s to reject people when asked to dance. 

However.

He looked back to Marinette, who held a fresh, bright smile, waiting for his response.

“I bet if Marinette asked you to dance, you would.”

Allegra’s words resurfaced in his mind, unwelcomed. Why did she always have to be right? It only made her more smug as a person.

Nevertheless, Felix took Marinette’s hand. “Alright, but only one dance. I don’t want anyone else thinking I’m open to the idea.”

Marinette chuckled and pulled Felix to his feet. “Of course not. We’ll dance near the darker spots of the room so your face won’t be seen.”

They moved to the dance floor, and Marinette put her hand on his shoulder, while Felix wrapped his arm around her waist. It was a bit awkward pulling each other close, since the only other person he’d been this close to was his mother and father, but once they actually started to dance, his years of practice easily took over. Felix slid into the role of leading, and Marinette followed him willingly as he spun her around the party room, smiling when she laughed during a dip.

Such a fool.. He thought, tugging her back up to him. How anyone could pass up Marinette’s affection was beyond him, but in a way, Felix was delighted that Adrien had. He might not have been able to meet her otherwise.

With the two being so enveloped in each other’s movements, they didn’t notice Allegra, Claude, and Allan watching them from across the room, nor did they catch the smiles and high-fives that the trio shared.

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[lord-westley]

Hi hun, I don't know if your requests are open right now, but I could really use some sort of comfort Imagine right now and I was hoping I could come and ask you. It doesn't even have to be a full set of Headcanons, just a short blurb about some Characters will do if that's fine with you.

I've been really struggling with my chronic illnesses lately, and I keep imagining the Fellowship taking care of me, so I thought I'd ask for an Imagine about that. I have a really weird condition where my right leg is physically longer than my left, which causes really intense pain in my hip and leg and also difficulty walking, so I've been really struggling with that lately. There's also the chronic fatigue from my sleep apnea, I'm absolutely covered in bruises that I don't remember getting, the classic anxiety and depression and executive dysfunction.. it's just been a difficult week tbh.

I'd appreciate any kind words right now. Thanks for being so kind and supportive to me, it means more than you could ever know. I hope it's alright that I ask this of you. Godspeed, hun 💕

Comfort HC’s

Platonic!Fellowship x Reader

Post LOTR; Comfort

Warnings: Mentions chronic pain, anxiety, depression, PTSD

A/N: Hello Ro! I’m sorry this took a while, I hope the pain eases soon and that these headcanons help. If you ever need to talk, my DM's are open anytime!

You’ve known the Fellowship ever since you were a little girl. You met them when your parents sent you off to Imladris to seek the aid of Lord Elrond, one of the greatest healers in Middle-Earth. For you had an unusual physical condition, where your right leg grew longer than your left. It made walking difficult and a burning pain to spiderweb from your hip down.

Lord Elrond tried everything he could in his power to help you, and yet there was little he could do except ease the pain. No amount of magic can prevent physical growth.

The tears that welled up in your eyes that day pained him more than any wound can. A child, barely twelve years old, experiencing such excruciating pain right in front of him, and yet he can’t do anything about it. And from that moment on, he promised to you that he’d do anything he can to help you, and care for you.

So with the permission of your worried parents, Lord Elrond gave you an offer to stay in Imladris for as long as you wish. To heal and receive the care you need. Which you kindly accepted.

For years up to adulthood, you lived in Imladris; drinking Athleas tea every morning and night for the pain and sleep apnea. While it wasn’t a cure, it helped make life much more bearable. Allowing you to enjoy certain activities and walk around with only half the pain.

During those years you became great friends with the Fellowship. For they travelled often to Imladris to visit and rest between trips. They became your family, always joking and telling stories of their travels; teaching you new tricks and how to defend yourself. And in return you’d tell them stories of the elves around you. How the Ellon in the smithy loves to tease the Elleth in the bakery. Or how the children would braid flower crowns for you.

The boys know of your difficulties with your leg and illnesses. They’re constantly worried for you; asking how you are, helping when the pain begins to spike and holding you when you begin to cry. Everytime it starts getting bad again, they tell you it's okay to feel weak and to cry. That you don’t have to be strong all the time.

Aragorn

Aragorn is surprisingly soft despite his tough exterior

He believes that crying and venting about your frustrations is the most healthy way to deal

So on days you are having a rough time he’ll sit down with you in his lap, holding you tightly into his chest. One arm around your body and one hand in your hair

Aragorn will let you cry and yell into him, all while pressing small kisses into your hair

He’s not a very wordy person, so it’s not often he will whisper sweet things, but when he does. It’s always so soft and helps relax you

“Deep breaths Hun, It’ll be okay”

Legolas

A soft baby- an absolute angel when it comes to comforting you

Legolas is very big on grounding yourself and staying focused on your surroundings

So when he notices you’re beginning to have a rough time, nearing a panic attack, He preps a cup of Athleas tea and brings you to a private area

He’ll have you sit between his legs, and his arms gently wrapped around you torso

Legolas will have you ground yourself by telling him 3 things you smell, feel, hear and see

“Close your eyes, little one and listen… Listen to the birds sing”

As you begin to relax, he whispers praises, proud of how strong you are

“You’re doing so well, I’m proud of you”

Boromir

I love this man oml

If you’re bedridden due to the pain he’d 100% do whatever you ask of him

Need more pillows? Steals them from every. Single. Bedroom.

“Boro- holy crap how many did you take!?”

“Uh.. all?”

There is now a national shortage of pillows

Need more warmth? Will make a nest of blankets and wrap you up in his cloak

Comfort?? CUDDLES FOR DAYS

Boromir is there for you every step of the way

If you start crying, He might cry with you- absolutely hates seeing you in such pain

“I’m sorry- Im so sorry Darling. I wish there was more I could do for you”

Gimli

In true Gimli fashion, when he notices your anxiety he 100% wants to fight whoever triggered it

He gets a bit aggressive in the beginning, insisting to fist fight your problems away

but when you tell him that it’s something that can't be fought off, that its a constant thing, he calms down and just

“Oh”

“Oh oh wait Im so sorry”

Cue soft Gimli

Will rub your back affectionately while speaking softly

Asking if there is anything he could do to help

Another babe who will do anything you ask of him

If the panic attack happens in public, Gimli will bring you somewhere more private

He’ll shield you with his body from the eyes of the public and glare at anyone who dares stare

Not very good with soft comfort but if you ever need to feel safe and protected go to him

“Dont worry Lassie” (head pats) “I’ll protect you, You’re safe now”

Frodo

Sweet darling baby angel bean

He completely understands your anxieties and pain

Frodo did carry the one ring across middle earth after all

He absolutely has PTSD from it, so there have been many times the two of you would stay up late together when you can’t sleep, drinking tea

You find comfort in the fact that he’s quite similar to you, and vice versa

Most often, you guys will talk about what's going on and comfort each other

On the nights the two of you don’t wish to talk, Frodo will read stories to you

His voice is so soft and comforting, It never fails to lull you to sleep

“None of them noticed a large, tawny owl flutter past the window” He reads aloud, peaking up at you and notices the way your lips part, a soft snore emitting. He hums, “Goodnight Y/N, sleep well”

Sam

This hobbit is such a softie

He understands that with mental disorders, you may forget to eat or care for yourself

So he always watches you, making sure you’re eating and you aren’t

Oh boy

Will cook your favorite meals and make you sit with him to eat breakfast, lunch and dinner

“Ah, I hope you enjoy the meal. I made your favorite!”

“Thank you, Sam..”

Ensuring you drink your water

Or if you don’t like plain water, make some tea. Anything really to make sure you get your fluids

As a gardener, Sam is busy quite often, tending to, well, gardens

He’ll set up a picnic nearby for you with finger sandwiches, drinks, and fruit that way you had company and can relax fully in the peacefulness of nature

Definitely will give you a bouquet of flowers at the end of the day

“I picked these for you Y/N!”

Merry and Pippin

Okay so these two are together cause well. They’re always together

Except that one scene

Absolute kings of distraction when you’re feeling depressed

You might want to just sleep it off- but we all know that never really helps

They’ll make so many jokes and sing and dance around just to make you laugh

Which often leads to them singing even louder and cruder, annoying every elf in the area

“Lucky Annie was a lady who’d been pleased by many men- They all would sail away but then they’d come right back again”

Yes they sing sea shanties

Oops

On days that you don’t have the energy to deal with such shenanigans, they’ll tone it down

The three of you will often be found in the field during these days, Tossing a ball back n forth

Or giggling amongst yourself, gossiping about the rest of the fellowship

“I don’t know Merry, Gandalf is kinda hot in an old man way”

“Pippin what the hell”

[guardianofrivendell]

The Odd Ones Out

Kíli x OC (platonic)

Summary: Tullaina and Kíli were best friends from day one. Getting into a fight to the death together tends to do that to you. Of course, it wasn’t actually to the death, but Kíli kept insisting it had been a close call. This is the story of how their friendship started.

Warnings: bullying, young Kíli (Tullaina and Kíli are 34 and 33 in this one, which is the dwarven equivalent of a young teenager)

OC: Tullaina, you can read her character sheet here

A/N: My first oneshot with Tullaina! A big, massive thank you to @lathalea who helped me find the motivation to finish this and gave me the nudges and the kick to my butt that I needed to keep going! I love you!  Also a thank you (and maybe an apology too) to @anjhope1 and @laurfilijames because they had to hear me nag and complain about this story over and over again :)

Kidizbuhâ. Friendship.

What exactly is friendship? What defines it? It’s something Tullaina always wondered about.

According to one of master Balin’s many books, it can be described as a state between two or more individuals, a mutual affection that is strictly platonic. 

Your best friend is even more than that. They are that one special person who sticks with you no matter what. You talk about anything and everything, have fun together, comfort each other, and you accept one another with all their flaws. It’s almost like finding your One, but without the romantic love. 

Tullaina had often dreamed of finding that one true friend...

Born and raised in the mountains of Ered Luin, she had a pretty normal childhood as a pebble.  With only a few friends and a loving family, she was as happy as a young girl could be. 

When she grew older, her friends’ appearance started to change. 

They grew wider, more muscular and their facial hair started to grow out. Each of them turned into perfect examples of how a sturdy dwarf or dwarrowdam should look like. 

Tullaina however stayed exactly the same. She grew in height, but kept her lanky figure. She filled out the appropriate places, but not as much as her friends or peers. Her freckles became more pronounced and the increase of birthmarks started to raise questions among those so-called ‘friends’. And on top of that, as if she couldn’t be ridiculed enough already, she lacked the pride of every Dwarf… facial hair. A fine layer of down hairs where her sideburns should be was all she could grow, and it was barely even visible.  

There was no denying that she looked different than your average Dwarrowdam at that age. 

And that’s when the teasing and bullying began. 

One by one, she lost her friends, none of them wanted to be associated with the ‘elf child’ or khathzith, as they started calling her. 

Everywhere she went, she could hear the dreaded word, whispered among the people of the Blue Mountains. And after a while, Tullaina started to believe them. Maybe she wasn’t a Dwarf after all?

No matter how many times her parents had tried to convince her she was of full Dwarven descent, a proud Longbeard, she never stopped asking whether what they said about her was true. 

Maybe she was a late bloomer, like her mother sometimes said in an attempt to comfort her. When Tullaina’s tears had dried up, she usually told her daughter the story about her late auntie Marthosia whose beard only started to grow after she turned 30, and it turned out to be the most glorious beard of them all. The Dwarrows stood in line to ask for her courtship.  And every time Tullaina would simply roll her eyes and thank her mother. 

By the time she turned 30, there was still no trace of a beard or proper sideburns. Not that Tullaina had expected anything, but she couldn’t deny that there was a tiny sliver of hope left that maybe, maybe she was like auntie Marthosia after all. 

Her mother eventually stopped telling the story and Tullaina had given up all hope. She started to isolate herself more, hardly leaving the safety of her home, losing herself in books and her own imagination.  

The only time she would leave the house by herself was to visit the mines and bring her father his lunch when he forgot to bring it with him. Which happened a lot more than you would think.  Tullaina suspected her father did this on purpose to get her out of the house more often, but she never said anything about it. 

It was on one of those trips that she ran into Kíli for the first time...

*

Tullaina hurried through the small, slippery streets of the mountain city, her shawl wrapped securely around her head and neck, head down and eyes fixed on the ground. 

She was on her way back from the mines having delivered her father’s lunch, but she’d dawdled when the baker’s cat had crossed her path. It wasn’t her fault she absolutely had to pet it, right? 

So now she was in a hurry to get home. And she would have been there in a matter of minutes, if her ears hadn’t picked up the teasing laughter coming out of one of the dead-end side alleys.

On any other day she would have tucked her scarf a little tighter around her, bowed her head a little deeper to avoid any unwanted attention, and definitely walk a little faster. 

But it turned out today wasn’t like any other day…

There could be many reasons as to why she felt the need to investigate further. Some would call it being adventurous, fate, maybe even Mahal’s will if you want. But for Tullaina it was her sense of injustice that drove her to the alley. 

There was something familiar about the laughter that made her suspect this wasn’t just some friends having fun. She tiptoed towards the corner of the building and peeked around the corner.

Her curiosity often got the better of her and her mother used to warn (okay fine, she guaranteed it) that it would get her into serious trouble one day. Who knows, maybe her mother was right after all...

At the end of the dead-end alley she could see three dwarves, at first sight probably not much older than she was. It was almost comical how they were all so different but clearly looking like they were up to no good: you had the short one with flaming red hair, the muscles and then one who was fairly normal at first until he grinned and Tullaina could see he was missing a front tooth. These three dwarves practically screamed trouble. 

They were all looking at a boy who was standing in the middle of the trio. 

The boy had shoulder length brown hair with no braids. He was taller than the others and had a slender build. He was wearing a simple dark blue tunic and black trousers, and his unruly hair framed a kind face with large brown eyes. No beard.  

And that’s precisely what they were bullying him about...

Tullaina could hear the insults they were throwing at him, she flinched because she knew them all too well - having heard them many times before - and something in her snapped. Before she realised what she was doing, she called out to them.

“Oi!” 

All four heads turned towards her. 

Well, that’s what you get for calling out to them, she thought. Now what? Quick, say something so they’ll know you mean business! 

“Leave him alone!”

Oh wow, she thought, almost rolling her eyes at herself. Great choice, that’ll make them tremble with fear! 

The boys started snickering, excited about the prospect of another victim. One of them grabbed the beardless one by the shoulder and pushed him forward. 

The Muscles came up towards Tullaina and it took all her restraint not to take a step back. 

“Aww Kíli, look at that, your girl is here to save you!”

“I said, leave him alone,” she repeated, trying to look confident by straightening her back and balling her fists at her side, but her voice gave her away. It earned her a chuckle from the dwarf in front of her.

“No, this can’t be his girl,” he sneered, removing her scarf, “Look at her face, not a hair in sight! It’s the same babyface as our dear Kíli. Who would’ve thought there were more of you khathzith?” (young Elves)

Oh, he should not have said that! 

The familiar insult triggered something in her and her hands moved on instinct. She placed her hands on his chest and pushed with all the strength she had.

It took him by surprise, he didn’t have the time to brace himself and he fell on his back in the dirt with a grunt. Mistake number one.

One of his companions, the one with the flaming red hair lunged forward and pushed her in turn. Tullaina didn’t stand a chance with the force he was using against her lanky figure and immediately fell to the ground. She cried out when her arm scraped against a small rock. Mistake number two. 

They started laughing at her, until the one who was holding Kíli cried out in pain.

When Tullaina looked up she saw him clutching his nose with both of his hands, tears springing in his eyes. 

Before she could figure out what had happened, Kíli threw himself on the redhead with a loud cry of “Du Bekâr!” and something about not laying your hands on a lady. Or... that he shouldn’t have handed him a baby? 

It wasn’t her fault that it was difficult to understand him with all the shouting and the curses being thrown around. If her mother was near she would’ve covered her ears. Luckily for Tullaina she wasn’t, at least now she could learn a thing or two for future use!

But this actually was the moment she should have decided it was time to go. Mistake number three.

They were all distracted and not paying attention to her whatsoever, the short one was still busy crying over his nose, the redhead was wrestling with Kíli and Muscles just stood by and watched it all happen for some reason. Really, what was stopping her from running? Her more reasonable side was yelling at her to go home. Let the boys fight it out themselves! 

But she couldn’t leave this Kíli to himself now, could she? After he so valiantly defended her? No one ever stood up for her before, and here he was literally fighting for her honor. 

No, she couldn’t leave him…

When Muscles finally noticed Tullaina was still there, he came towards her with a loud roar - or what should’ve been a roar, it was more a gargle really - and the decision was made for her. She was going to fight. 

Well… It seemed her mother was right after all. Her curiosity got her into trouble. 

*

One of the last things Dís had expected to see when she opened her door was a pair of young Dwarves, battered and bruised. Well… half of the duo was her youngest son, so their disheveled state shouldn’t come as a big surprise.  

“Amad, this is Tullaina,” Kíli introduced his new friend with a wide smile, wiping a drop of blood off his chin with the back of his hand like it was the most natural thing to do. His left eye was a little swollen and starting to bruise. And still he was as chipper as ever.

Tullaina waved timidly, getting a bit uncomfortable. She had recognized the dwarrowdam as soon as she opened the door and suddenly it had clicked in her head who Kíli was. She knew how this might look and the last thing she wanted was to get in more trouble. Typical of her to befriend a prince of all people…  

“Nice to meet you, Tullaina.” Dís smiled kindly to let her know she wasn’t angry. It seemed to relax Tullaina a little, her shoulders slacked and she returned her smile.  

After the introduction Dís switched into full mother hen mode and ushered the two inside, so she could take care of their injuries and hopefully get some answers to the many questions that flooded her mind. For one, who Tullaina was. As far as she knew, she hadn’t seen the girl before. And Dis took pride in knowing everyone in Ered Luin. 

But getting the information out of these two turned out to be a lot harder than Dís had initially thought. 

She told them to sit down at the dinner table while she got everything she needed to clean their wounds. 

At first sight it was only Kíli’s busted lip that needed attention, their bruises would heal on their own. 

When the only daughter of Thraín asked her youngest how he and his new friend got their bruises and Kíli his busted lip, he only shrugged his shoulders. 

Kíli clearly didn’t want to talk about it. 

And that worried her, because if there was one thing Kíli liked to do, it was talking her ears off about what he had done or discovered while out with Fíli or by himself.

She guessed he probably stood up for Tullaina and had valiantly defended or even rescued her, in which case Dís wouldn’t hear the end of it. So the silence of her youngest was rather alarming, to say the least. 

In the end, it was Tullaina who reluctantly explained to her that she stumbled upon Kíli and a couple of other young Dwarves, who felt the need to mock the young prince. 

Dís’ eyes widened and her hand that was cleaning the dried blood around his mouth, froze midair. The cut on his lip had finally stopped bleeding, and it looked a lot worse than it actually was. 

“Kíli, that is still no reason to start a fight! And certainly not in the presence of a lady.”

Kíli straightened his back at the scolding of his mother, but didn’t contradict her. 

“He didn’t start the fight, Lady Dís, I did,” Tullaina answered before Kíli could stop her.

The large Dwarrowdam frowned, and she absentmindedly started stroking her beard. She was happy Kíli seemed to have made a friend who was not Fíli, but if she turned out to be a troublemaker…

Her sons definitely didn’t need help in that department.

“Now why did you do that, nadanê?” she asked her. (my child) “Amad, please just let it go,” Kíli said before Tullaina had the chance to explain.  “I wasn’t asking you, Kíli.”

Tullaina hesitated. What if lady Dís blamed her for his injuries, or getting him into the fight in the first place?

Her new friend obviously didn’t want his mother to know about the bullying and she understood that better than anyone. Tullaina herself had kept a lot from her mother, the things she had to go through, all the insults, the name calling, the laughter… 

But she also knew her new friend needed someone he could talk to. When it gets too bad, you need to vent, let everything out. And since she wasn’t sure she’d be welcome again in Lady Dís’ house after today, it might be better to tell his mother what had happened. 

“They were teasing and bullying him about stuff they used to bully me for as well,” she finally caved. 

“And what might that be?”

“Our lack of dwarven features,” Tullaina answered, as she lowered her eyes. “I’ve been bullied and made fun of for years because I don’t have a proper beard, and don’t look like most other dwarrowdams… So you see, my Lady, I couldn’t just stand there and watch. But they would not listen! So I pushed one of them and started the fight.”

“I see,” Dis hummed, before she placed her hands on Kili’s and Tullaina’s knees. “You did what you felt was right, and that is very admirable. Nadanê, never let anyone make you feel inferior. No matter what you look like, what you have or do not have. It’s what’s inside that matters. You’re both courageous, headstrong and maybe a little reckless too, but that’s alright. That sounds like a true dwarf to me.”

Tullaina smiled in return.  It wasn’t a lot different from what her own mother would say when she tried to comfort her, but somehow when Lady Dis said it, it added more weight to it. 

“Now tell me about the fight?” Dis smiled, trying to lighten the mood. 

Kíli’s head shot up and his eyes sparkled, and Dis knew that look all too well. Now she was going to hear every single detail about their little adventure. 

“So I found myself surrounded by, I don’t know, ten, maybe twelve other dwarves-”

“Three. There were three Dwarves, Kíli,” Tullaina interrupted with a straight face.

“It’s not like I was counting them!” he said to Tullaina, before he turned to his mother again. “I was too busy fighting for my life!”

“I bet you were,” Dís chuckled. 

Kíli explained how he was trying to find a way out so he could run home, but they wouldn’t let him. 

“And then Tullaina showed up and she came to help me, Amad. She gave the biggest one a shove, can you believe?! But then one of the other dwarves pushed her to the ground! You and uncle always told me I should treat all dwarrowdams with respect, right? But I don’t think his parents told him, because why would he do that? Anyway, then Tullaina hurt her arm,” Kíli paused his rambling and grabbed Tullaina’s arm to show the scratch she got when she fell, but she immediately pulled her arm free and muttered something like ‘i’m fine, it’s nothing’. Dís made a mental note to clean it later. 

“So I had to defend her honor! Fíli will be so proud of me when he hears about it, I punched that atnuzab right on the nose!” (prick)

“Then how did you get your lip cut and your eye so bruised?” his mother asked him, already knowing the answer, but playing along. It was better to let him continue his story, but it was Tullaina who cut in. 

“It turned out the atnuzab knew how to hit back,” she grinned.   

“And that’s when the fight really took off,” Kíli continued enthusiastically, a wide smile on his face. 

While Dís took care of Tullaina’s arm, he explained everything in detail, waving his arms in excitement, while the girl filled in the blanks or corrected him, which happened surprisingly often. 

Dís chuckled every time it happened. It was refreshing to see Kíli being reprimanded for not telling the truth or exaggerating by someone his own age. Who knows, maybe Tullaina will turn out to be a positive influence on her son and his vivid imagination?

“And then he ran off, crying about his bloody nose,” Kíli cackled, holding on to Tullaina’s shoulder to keep himself up since he was laughing so hard. 

“Which I believe you gave him?” Dís commented. 

“I did,” he said proudly, wiping a tear away. “A true warrior I was!”

“Or tried to at least, did you forget you tripped over your own feet? Twice?” Tullaina laughed, recalling both times she had to help him up before the bullies could get to him.  

“I was creating a diversion!”

Tullaina raised an eyebrow at that in disbelief, but decided to let it slide. 

Dís shook her head at their friendly banter and left for the kitchen, taking the bowl and the dirty rags with her.

Tullaina watched her leave and smiled to herself. Isn’t it strange how one hastily made decision had changed her entire day? It had been ages since she laughed this much, it was amazing how quickly she felt comfortable in Kíli’s company. Was this what true friendship felt like?

When she looked back at Kíli, she caught him already staring at her.

“What?” she asked with a frown. 

“Thank you,” he said. “You came to help me and I’ll never forget that.”

Tullaina felt her face flush at how sincere he was, his big brown eyes looking at her intently.  

“Don’t mention it,” she grinned, playing with her fingers in her lap.

They sat side by side in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, their hands tucked away under their thighs before Tullaina spoke up again.

“You know, I need to thank you too,” she said, bumping her shoulder against Kíli’s.

“Me? What for?”

“Defending my honor.”

Kíli gave her a broad smile and puffed out his chest. “It was the right thing to do. And I would do it again in a heartbeat.” He placed his hand on his heart to emphasize his words. 

Tullaina believed him. Kíli seemed that kind of person who would rather follow his heart than his head, someone who would act on impulse before thinking about the possible consequences.   

“Besides, friends take care of each other right?” he continued, pushing himself off the table. 

Dís returned from the kitchen with two slices of cake in her hand. 

“I believe you’ve more than deserved this,” she smiled. “A good fight works up quite an appetite.”

The two new friends eagerly accepted the treat, and while they were eating Dís watched them carefully. She had noticed how these two interacted with each other; as if they had been lifelong friends, even though they met mere moments ago. Yes, this wouldn’t be the last time she saw Tullaina. Dís was sure of it. 

That reminded her of something…

“How come I haven’t seen you around, Tullaina?”

“I like to stay home, inside, where it’s safe,” the girl looked down in embarrassment and whispered. “There... there are no bullies there.”

“Then why were you even out there in the first place?” Kíli wondered.

“Kíli!” Dís chided him. She gave him a stern look but he didn’t even falter and looked at her expectantly. 

Tullaina chuckled. She kind of liked Kíli’s cheekiness and lack of filter when he spoke. It was a nice change from the usual harsh words and sneers she had to hear from others. 

“It’s fine. My adad works in the mines and I sometimes bring him his lunch,” she explained to Kíli. 

“He does? I know where that is!” he said enthusiastically. “You know what? Next time you have to go there, I’ll go with you!”

“That’s a great idea, Kíli,” Dís agreed, she couldn’t be happier that her youngest had found a new friend. He was starting to get lonely now Fíli spent more time with Thorin. Tullaina might be exactly what he needed to stay out of trouble. 

But Tullaina shook her head. “No, I can’t ask that of you! I’m-I’m sure you have much more important things to do.”

“Nonsense,” Dís waved her concern away. “You’re always welcome here, Tullaina.”

When Tullaina said her goodbyes - her mother will be worried sick by now - she had to promise Dís to come back the next day.

Kíli caught her off guard a bit when he hugged her, squeezing a lot harder than she expected him to.  

“See you tomorrow,” he said, and then his eyes lit up and a face-splitting grin appeared. 

“What?”

“I can’t wait for you to meet my brother!”

.

Kíli taglist: @elles-writing @sxperncturalimpala67

Permanent taglist: @roosliefje @kata1803 @entishramblings @artsywaterlily @sleepy-daydream-in-a-rose @marvelschriss @aduialel @anjhope1 @kumqu4t @myrin1234 @moony-artnstuff @dark-angel-is-back @the-fandoms-georgie @lathalea @xxbyimm @sokkasdarling @katethewriter @aredhel-of-gondolin @leethology @thepeanutcollective @elvish-sky @emmapotato88 @kirenia15 @vicmackeybullshxt @hey-its-nonny @moarfandomtrash

If your name is scratched through, it means I couldn’t tag you! You might want to check your settings ;) 

[skyrim-drabbles-n-stuff]

SO i love your dragon mating headcanons 👀👀how do you think people like miraak who are TECHNICALLY dragons at heart "mate"? how similar is it to the actual dragons' rituals?? miraak food is much appreciated my friend🙏

(Oop, more Miraak? I believe so..but I’ll try to generalize it a little more for all dragonborn. Okay that’s a lie, I’m using a Miraak as an example as much as possible.)

I believe I should start by simply following the points I made in the first dragon mating ritual post I made.

• The first step of the mating rituals actually makes much more sense to humans than it does dragons. The first step is to get to know your mate, the form a strong bond with them before you decide that they’re the one. This is something even people without the dragons blood do..but when two people of dovah sos enter this stage of courting, a likeness can almost be physically felt no matter how strange the other may seem in their eyes.

• The displaying of thu’um can be tragically one sided for a dovahkiin. Most of the time, they are the only one of their kind..so this can be done by them simply showing off mild abilities like “Become Ethereal.” However in the case of Miraak..think it similar to a peacock displaying it’s feathers. The two dragonborns will shout at each other and into the heavens as a means of showing their power.

• The physical fight after this, as you can about imagine, is also different. It’s much more like a wrestling match between Miraak and Ldb, at least one where his intent isn’t to murder them and vice versa.

• After the dovahkiin/s decide that they want to make their relationship an official manner, it isn’t long before they seek to share the same home. That nesting instinct from their dragon souls tend to rear its head quite strongly once the two become one.

• As for the actual nest building...this can be done in a number of ways. Perhaps one of them will be fire to gather an immense amount of firewood whilst the other piles countless pelts onto their shared bed. It could even be the pair working together to fortify their “nest” by warding the home or preparing it for the cold winter nights.

• Specifically referring to Miraak in this case, his version of the “preening” would be braiding his mates hair and having them braid his as well. It’s simple, but it means a lot. In addition to this, frequent baths shared together become a commonplace for the pair.

• While it may seem quite dramatic, the dovah side of the dragonborns will only grow more restless as the final steps of the mating process are completed. This tends to make even the most humane of dovahkiins act animalistic towards any and all that aren’t their mate while the mating season is still in affect.

• The ethereal form of the “Dragon Aspect” soon becomes normal for the pair of mates to be seen donning. It’s a deep reflection of their very own soul, bearing it for their mate is the most romantic and trusting thing they can do. What else is sweeter than showing your soul to someone and have them say it’s beautiful?

• It’s only a few days after the revealing of their aspect that the pair will begin the consummation of their union and breed. Usually initiated by roughhousing, the pair will playfully flip each other around and fight for dominance until they tire themselves out.

• While a dovah in a human’s body can’t physically breed for days on end, they’ll have enough drive to do the closest thing possible. Male or Female will typically see strange increases of hormones and libido during the three day period of non-stop sex, feeling no other desire than simply screwing their mate and slumbering the rest of the day after gorging themselves on mead and meats.

• It takes a little longer to know for sure when compared to their winged kin, but once a pair of dragonborns successfully convince, a noticeable shift will happen. They’ll both seek solitude from the outside world, having to begrudgingly remind each other that it was still necessary to visits priests and priestesses to endure their spawn’s health.

[miss-choco-chips]

Bird Watchers

It was something like an open secret in Gotham, that even though all it’s heroes were open to help no matter the situation, each one of them had a special affinity to certain matters.

For example, children from all districts knew to yell for Nightwing if they found themselves lost and scared. Small business owners often painted little Oracle symbols on their doorsteps, to warn away possible thieves with the knowledge that Gotham’s cryptic hacker had their eye on them. Working girls would send a quick prayer to the Red Hood before seeing their seediest clients; and as such, knew who to call for if things took a turn for the worst.

And Red Robin… well. His was a very specific bunch.

---.---

Warnings: depression, suicide attempts, overdose comic-typical violence (discussed, not explicit). Hurt-comfort all the way, baby. There’s also one scene, with the redhead, that I copied from the comics.

(it’s almost 2 am, I wrote half of this in one go, don’t @ me for mistakes. I’ll edit tomorrow. Maybe.)

---.---

The first time he stopped a suicide, he had just turned thirteen. The suit still felt wrong, too loose in all the places where Jason’s bigger presence would have been a better fit. Too small, too brainy, not brash enough, not good enough.

He would never think himself worthy, but he was all Batman had. There were no other candidates, not ones he could have thrown the job at without risking Bruce’s identity, so he’d have to make do.

But even so, he had been gaining a little confidence over the past few months. His training with Shiva, and Dick’s and Bruce’s focus on making him as ready for the streets as humanly possible, had ensured he never encountered a situation where he couldn’t handle himself, or get back up in time to avoid any casualties.

Except for right now.

“Hey! Don’t do it, please!”

Yeah, maybe yelling at the man precariously balanced on the edge of a how many feet tall building wasn’t his wisest moment. He’d berate himself later. Now was freak out time.

Said man stumbled for a second before regaining his footing and turning to look at Tim. He couldn’t be more than forty, with a bit of an overgrown beard and tired eyes. He had something clutched in one hand, tanned and calloused from work, the other over his chest, probably due to the scare of having a bat suddenly appearing behind him.

“R-Robin…”, he gasped, shook out of whatever reverie he was going through for a second. “W-what… I mean, why are you…?”

‘Okay, Tim, breath. Can’t call B, he’ll notice, get startled and jump. Can I catch him if he does? My grappling hook is made to withstand more than my weight, but if I can’t handle the strain of swinging us both to safety…’

He couldn't risk it.

“Good evening, Mr…?”

Surprise and good manners made the man automatically answer, “Ed. Ed Harrinson.”

Encouraged, Tim took a tiny teeny step forward. Ed’s entire body shock and he leaned backwards. Tim froze, fear keeping his breathing and heartbeat hostages for the time being, stopping the first and kick starting the second.

“Mr Harrinson, I’d like to ask you to step away from the edge? I’ll call an ambulance for you, and…”

“No!”, the man screamed, suddenly over his surprise, a look of determination trying to masquerade his obvious exhaustion. “If you call an’one, I’ll jump.”

Tim wisely kept the ‘you were gonna do it anyway’ to himself. He nodded slowly, hands emerging from the confines of his cape to show Mr Harrinson the lack of a communication device.

“I won’t, then, but may I come closer? Please?”

It was on the last word, high pitched and wavering, that the man cracked. With wary demeanor, he waved him over, pointing to a patch of rooftop a little far but close enough for Tim to feel comfortable- or as comfortable as he’d get, in these circumstances.

As he approached, he could feel the man analyzing him. The little gasp when he stood by his side didn’t go unnoticed.

“You are… smaller than I imag’ned. Too small for a bat. My boy’s taller than you” he mused, likely to himself, but Tim grasped onto that bit of information and clutched at it with both hands, desperately.

“I’m short compared to my peers, so maybe I’m the same age as your son. How old is he?”, he asked, in his most conversational tone. Fear still had a grasp over both his lungs and heart.

Something in the man’s face shifted.

“He… he just turned fifteen.” Older than Tim, then. Ed continued, “He’s… ”, in a second, the sadness was replaced by pride, “he’s grown up p’tty well, if I say so m’self. A fine young man, that kid. He’ll go places.”

For a beat, Tim tried to imagine his own dad here. As much as he’d hate to see Jack in Mr Harrinson’s place, he couldn't help but wonder if he’d be talking about him the same way Ed spoke about his son.

He… didn’t think so. If on the verge of death, thoughts about his son would probably be the farthest from his dad’s mind.

“You sound like you love him very much. He’s a lucky guy” he said sincerely, a tendril of hopefulness still twisted around his stomach. His hands weren’t shaking any longer, finding solace in the fact that the man in front of him didn’t look like he was about to jump right that second.

Mr Harrinson’s face fell.

“Got served an’ unlucky hand, with an old man like me”, his eyes went back to the abyss, to the empty, poor litten streets below them. “Go ‘way, kid. Leave m’ be. Notta business what I do. Gotta do this f’r my kid.”

Fear came back, full force.

“I- Sorry, but I can’t help but think about your son”, he blurted out, the only bit of information he had about the man was his only tendril of hope. “Someone who loves his child as much as you seem to must be a good father. A father that… would be missed dearly, if lost so young.”

Mr Harrinson looked even more devastated. Tim was doing this all wrong, wasn’t he?

“There’s no other way t’ keep’im safe!'' he yelled, and for a minute Tim thought he had decided to jump then and there. Instead, he dropped to his knees, hands to his head, paper still clutched in one fist. “They’ll get to him if I don’t! Once I’m dead, they’ll just leave’im alone!”

Tim crouched next to him, tentative.

“Who is ‘they’, sir? Maybe I could help…”

Ed was already shaking his head.

“Nay, they said not to go to the bats. Kill my boy, they will, if I do. Seen them offing others for less, so I believe them.”

“Ah, but I’m too short to be a bat, am I not?” he smiled, wobbly at best but sincere. “Besides, who’s gonna tell them you spoke to me? I”, he gestured to his mask, “know how to keep a secret.”

He considered for a beat, before tired shoulders fell, defeated. He offered the slip of paper towards him, unseeing eyes on the street below.

Robin read the note carefully, noting the sloppy penmanship and cheap paper as well as the message itself.

“Mr Harrinson…”

“I know”, he whispered, “I know working for the Black Mask wasn’t my best idea. But m’boy needed to eat, and the landlord was gettin’ impatient. And now, for whatever reason, boss wants me dead. And if I make ‘im dirty his own hands, he’ll dirty ‘em twice and send me with my son for company to the other side. Felix is too young, and he’s good. Can’t let ‘im pay f’ his old man m’stakes, ya hear me?”

Tim thought his words over carefully.

“Mr Harrinson… I don’t think this comes from Black Mask himself”, for one, Blackie wasn’t one to avoid blood on his gloves, nor to send such a shitty note. The man lived for the drama, like most A-listers did, and he’d never forgo the aesthetic of an expensive peachment and beautifully worded threat. Also, if he wanted this man gone, he would have put a bullet in his head the second he clocked in; and if it were revenge he was after, he wouldn't have gotten a warning note but his son’s head sent to him instead.

He folded the paper and put it into one of his multiple pockets, free hand going to the man’s shoulder.

“I know Black Mask’s M.O, mister, and this is not it”, no need to spook him further by describing what it was, though. “Probably just a colleague who wanted your position, or has a grudge for whatever reason. And that, I can help you with. If you work with me on this one, we can both make sure Felix has his Dad making breakfast for him tomorrow morning, and all the days after that. After all”, he smiled, no longer uncertain now that he had firm ground to work with, “your son is going places, and he’ll have to be well fed to reach them, right?”

Mr Harrinson’s smile must have had magical properties, Tim thought. There was no other explanation for the way it returned his breath back to his body.

---.----

The next time he saw a jumper, a few months later, he was slightly more ready for it. Bruce had congratulated him on his work with Mr Harrinson, and the subsequent raid they could make on one of Black Mask’s warehouses thanks to the man’s information, but Tim hadn’t been satisfied until he had read every single mission report on the batcomputer about attempted suicides. And succeed ones, too. Need to know what went well and what didn’t, after all.

So when he saw the fifty-something woman crying on top of a tower in City Hall District, he didn’t almost-crash in his attempt to get there in time. He landed softly, making just enough noise to let her know she wasn’t alone, but careful to not startle her.

“It’s a little cold up here, Lady. If you’d like, I can walk you home?”, he tries for cheeky, despite the cold fear nesting in his stomach like a grumpy, spiteful bird.

The woman, sitting by the edge, turned her head to look at him. The movement called attention to her long, strawberry blonde hair, neatly braided, and her pretty diamond earrings. The face under her perfect make up was gaunt and pale, tear tracks cleaning paths of skin to his trained eye.

Despite him interrupting what probably were very private thoughts, she smiled at his approach, kind and polite. It didn’t reach her eyes, but the intent to put him at ease was generous enough.

“I may be a lady, but any adult worth their salt would insist on walking the young child home, instead of the opposite. Besides”, she patted the rooftop under her,” I live here, so it’s not a long walk at all.”

Tim stepped closer, carefully.

“May I sit?”

“I could use the company for a bit”, she accepted, head turning back to the city below.

They sat there for a few minutes in silence, before Tim’s soft voice broke it again.

“Is there anything I can do to help convince you not to do it? Please?”

The lady smiled. “You are a very sweet boy.”

“That’s… not an answer. Can I at least know why?”

“Won’t it torment you, in the future, if we speak now?”, she asked a question of her own, turning to face him again. Despite her words, there was nothing but kindness in those deep green eyes. “If you don’t know me, I’m just another one who jumped. If we talk, I’m afraid I might stay with you long after I’m gone. You are too young for that kind of weight.”

Tim swallowed. 

“That’s easily solved, Miss;”, Dick’s rule of thumb; if unsure, always call a lady Miss before Mrs “don’t do it.”

She spared him a long, meaningful look, and he slumped over.

“Not my best, I know, but I’m kinda freaking out now?” She wasn’t like Mr Harrinson, no motive he could see, no strand to pull and unravel her pain. “Please, just… why?”

She patted one of the hands gripping his own knee. His other hand rushed over hers, sandwiching her cold, slim fingers between his gloved palms.

“There’s nothing left for me. I have a nice job, live in a pretty side of town, have friends, and still… it feels so empty. So… Meaningless. Why even bother?”

Tim chewed on her words silently. He was way out of his depth. A tangible, physical problem? He could solve those, no biggie.

Depression, though… that was a different giant to tackle. Was he even prepared enough to?

A strong gust of wind made the lady with braided hair shiver. Without thought, Tim unclasped his cape and draped it over her slim shoulders.

“Aren’t you cold?” she asked, head tilted like a curious woodland animal. Tim felt strongly protective of her, of this kind, sweet lady, who said she had it all, except the one thing that mattered to her.

“I’m used to it”, he shrugged. “This suit is very warm, but cold air often trickles down from the neckline and… well. Gigs of the job and all that.”

The lady tutted, frowning for the first time since Tim arrived.

“That won’t do, young man. You need a scarf. The nights will only get colder from now on.”

He shrugged again.

“I just… don’t have the time to buy one. And I had one, but… There’s these kids who often hang out by the park, and they were so cold, I just couldn't swing by and ignore them. So I gave them my scarf to share between them. I’m just kinda bummed that I don’t have more to make sure they all stay warm.”

The braided haired lady hummed for a second.

“Well… I knit”, she started, carefully. “I don’t have children or grandchildren to give my final products to, so they’ll go to waste after I’m gone. If you’d take them out of my hands, you’ll do me a favor.” 

Tim wanted to say no, unwilling to make this any easier for her, but the chance of getting her away from the edge was enough to quell his voice.

She went and came back within minutes, a big cardboard box balanced over her shaky arms. He rose to help her, meeting the woman halfway through the roof, a good distance away from the abyss.

“This red one would look good with your suit… oh, and the green one, to keep with the theme! Or maybe the yellow one… Shame pink would be such a bad fit for your colors, because that wool is the best I worked with…”

Tim’s hand carefully took said carf out and looked it over. There were about six others in the box.

“I could take this to those kids I mentioned before… It’d still not be enough for all, but more to share between them means less cold.”

She hummed again, looking at the unfinished projects on the bottom of the box.

“If… If you give me a few days…” she muttered. “I mean, I’m in no rush”, a hand vaguely gestured towards the rooftop’s edge. “I could spare a few days finishing those, and you could take them to these kids you spoke about… and maybe, I can help make a few children less cold with this silly hobby of mine.”

Elated beyond words, Tim nodded vigorously, waxing poetry about her work and about just how excited little Ellie would be with this soft, pretty pink scarf.

His patrol route could use a few detours, after all, if that meant keeping Braided Hair Lady away from her roof.

---.----

He was just returning from a late supply run when he bumped into The Cats.

It was in an alleyway, a block off from Mrs Eloise Denvarow (formerly known as Braided Hair Lady). The older woman had caved after three months knowing each other, of Tim passing by her apartment once every other night to pick up her baked goods or knitted masterpieces, to distribute between street kids and working girls, and told him her name. It was said in passing (“Stop with that ‘Lady’ thing, honey. It’s Eloise”), as if lacking importance, when in reality it meant the world to him. Sure, he’d already known, having run a background check on her the minute he came back to the cave after stopping her from jumping, but there was that implicit vow between them, that she wouldn't tell him her name and jump, wouldn’t make him carry its weight on his shoulders forever, so it was… it was a promise, on her end, a reassurance, and Tim wasn’t even embarrassed that he cried in her arms like a baby for ten minutes.

So here he was, a month after that, still riding that high, when the desperate call from below caught his attention.

There were two teens on the dirty ground, nested among cracked bottles and old newspapers. The girl was lying in the boy’s arms, with him screaming for help.

“Robin! Thank fuck!”, he almost sobs, arms visibly tightening around the girl. Tim wants to ask how he knew to call for him, and if the proximity to Mrs Denvarow’s place was luck or not.

But it wasn’t the time to ask.

The girl was pale, which only highlighted the bruises on her face. Someone with a big fist punched her. It doesn't seem likely, considering just how distraught the other kid is, but he checks his hands just in case; fortunately, too small for that kind of damage.

She’s also breathing erratically and, when he puts a gloved hand to her neck, he realizes just how crazy her pulse is. 

Fear Toxin? Except Scarecrow is still in Arkham as far as he knows, and even if he had gotten away recently, he needs time to develop his precious chemicals. Joker’s Venom and Mad’s Hatter drugs don’t have quite this results, and Ivy doesn’t usually attack street girls just for kicks; they are also too far from her usual turf for her to be a viable suspect.

So, that leaves very few choices.

“Overdose?”, he ventures a guess, hand already fumbling through the pockets on his belt.

The other boy sobs harder, nodding while looking down at the girl in his arms. Tim gently takes the girl from him to position her straighter, to help her down the vial he finally found in his belt. It was supposed to help flush out any chemical in a few minutes, tops; they usually used it when a new type of Crazy Criminal Drug made its way to the streets and they didn’t have the time to properly prepare an antidote. It was strong, and vicious in its path to devoid the body of any and all external agents, which was why it wasn’t a preferred method; who’s to say the civilian in need of a flush isn’t in some important medicine? The Big Flush, as Dick calls it, lacked any kind of finesse or discrimination.

But it was their best shot right now, so there goes nothing. 

There’s silence while they watch the girl’s progress. He doesn’t bother asking if he called for an ambulance; they are obviously minors, probably homeless, and even if the Wayne Foundation takes care of children’s hospital fees, they’d avoid it to keep themselves out of the foster system.

But then, the kid kept talking.

“I… I found her near Grant Park. I… I didn’t know what to do, so I dragged her here. She/” and then he breaks again, hands grasping one of hers, as if letting go meant he was giving up on her and he couldn't bear it.

“Grant Park is only five blocks away,” Tim thinks out loud, mind already a mile away “and Moench’s Row illicit night clinic is about the same distance from there as this place. Why did you bring her here?”

“She… Alley… Oh, her name’s Allison, by the way. And I’m Thomas. Tom.” Introductions, miraculously, seem to do the trick here and calm him down. “Nice to meetcha.”

Tim’s not deterred by his toothy grin, but he has to admit he’s kinda cute. Like, stray cat cute.

Huh. Alley, Tom, cat… Yeah, that checks.

“What happened with Allison?” he presses softly, one arm still keeping Alley up and against his chest, the other hand on her pulse point, taking note of the way the heartbeat seems to be stabilizing. The puking fest was gonna start soon.

“She… It was on purpose.” Tom confesses, eyes going clouded for a while. “She tries to not be home, yknow? I met her in kindergarten, and even then she’d try to hide behind the teacher’s desk in hopes they’d forget about her and close the building with her inside. Anyway, we pretty much live on the streets these days, and Alley… she’s very depressed. I convinced her to see someone a while ago, even stol/ I mean, earned the money for it myself”, he’s quick to correct, eyes glancing up to see if he was smooth enough to cover it; which he wasn’t, but Tim was in favor of letting that small one go, “and they gave her a prescription for antidepressants. She’s been kicking it down the road, but she’s gotten a lot worse and I wouldn't lay off her case about it, so she sneaked back home to get some money from her folks to pay for it.”

By the way the kid looks at her bruised face with unmeasurable guilt, Tim knows she didn’t go unnoticed.

“And… I don’t know. We were supposed to meet up by the Commerce Street Highway, but she was late, so I walked around for a bit and… I saw her there, on a bench. She was/ she was still conscious then, and she told me… she said ‘these aren’t what the doc gave me, but they took the pain away all the same’.” Again, Tom chokes on his own emotions. If he had any free hands, he’d try to put one on his shoulder for comfort. “I don’t even know what she took, or where did she get it from!”

Tim has heard whispers of loan sharks and drug dealres camping toghter by the Fashion Distric, just north of Grant Park, so he can make an informed guess as to how that happened. Also, he now knows what he’ll do the rest of the night, once these kids are safe.

When Tom has gotten a grasp of himself, he pushes again.

“So, why did you bring her here?”

He shrugs, a bit abashed.

“Well… I mean, everyone knows about how Mrs Denvarow is the one giving clothes and food away, and that you help her distribute it. Well, not everyone, but… you know, the street kids. We flagged her building with a yellow skull and everything.”

A yellow skull grafitti, Tim’s mind translates, is the street equivalent of a ‘don’t fuck with this place’ sing. A sort of protective sigil. He wonders how he missed it.

“And… This is kind of your thing, right? So I figured you’d be better prepared to deal with it than some overworked clinic that might even not have enough free equipment to help us. Good think I did, too” he gestures at his friend, whose face is now looking flushed; a sign both of growing health, and of the upcoming puke. Tim’s quick to turn her so her back is to his chest, head tilted down just in case.

As if rehearsed, Alley chose that exact second to empty the contents of her now flushed stomach. Tim would need a sample of that, to catch the responsible dealer.

Tom held her hair away from her face while Tim kept her steady, and she blinked bearily at them after it was done, still not completely lucid but a world away from the girl she was ten minutes ago.

“She’ll still need a hospital.'' Tim informs Tom sternly. The boy had taken his friend in his arms again, softly rubbing her back to help with the uncomfortable ache leftover after puking your guts out. “The Moench’s Row clinic should be able to help with any side effect, but she’s safe for now.”

He nods, thanks Tim again and again and politely refuses his help to take her to the clinic. They part ways, both parties probably thinking this would be the last time they saw each other.

Still, their situation sticks with Tim during the rest of his patrol, and he decides to stop by the clinic, just to check on them. His knuckles still ache from the absolute beating he delivered to the ones who gave Alley the money and sold her the drugs, so he’s in better spirits and hopes to spread it to the kids.

Alley is awake when he visits, and her shy, little smile is enough for the rage inside of Tim to die down. The bad guys dealt with, the civilians safe, everything in its proper place.

He sleeps a bit better that night.

---.----

He almost doesn’t see him. 

Actually, he probably wouldn't have, deeply lost into his own head, had the guy been anything other than a redhead. That exact shade of  orangy-brown auburn, that he would have to pick up from his workbench at Titan’s tower after Bart had decided to ‘keep him company’ during his all-nighters. 

It was ironic, how now he would give anything in the world to have those same strands of hair fucking up his experiments, if only for the impish, ‘please-don’t-kill-me-I’m-an-angel’ smile he would receive in exchange.

“Hey”, he greets, landing softly at the man’s right, sitting a few feet away from him, too tired to even stand up on common ground. “What’s happening?”

He shouldn’t be doing this. He really, really shouldn’t. His own mental health was less than stellar, and even thinking about it made him feel worse. He didn’t deserve to feel bad, not when civilians were in the hospital after his latest fuck up, Cass was missing, Cassie barely hanging in there, the family a mess with Damian’s lovely introduction, and… well. Every other person he knew…

Point being, there must be someone else, in a better inner place, that could speak to this guy. But since no one seemed to be patrolling this route, Tim could only hope to stall him long enough for a more capable vigilante to show up.

The guy looks startled, then angry. He has green eyes, he notices, under the glasses. Not sure why that sticks to him.

“What are you doing here? You’re not going to try to stop me, are you? You’re not going to swing down and catch me in mid air or something, are you?”

He seems defensive, but Tim notices a bit of hesitancy. He has worked with less.

(He wishes he had more energy to do more with what little he has)

“No. If I did, what’s to stop you from doing it again later, or tomorrow? I can’t be with you every second.  If you want to do this, you are going to, no matter how much I don’t want you to. And I don’t want you to, just so we are clear.”

The guy still looks suspicious, but he hasn’t taken that last step forward, so… a win?

“I just needed to sit down for a minute. ‘been thinking about all the ways I’ve screwed up lately, and…”

Auburn-hair deflates a little, turning away from Tim to examine the night sky. “Well, that makes two of us.”

The bat signal lights up the night. His newfound companion looks at it, then him. “Do you need to get that?”

“Nah. Batman will, and if he needs help he’ll call me.” Tim shrugs. He needs a coffee-power-up. He needs to sleep. He needs for his loved ones to not be dead.

He needs to see if there’s anything he can do for this guy.

“So, do you want to tell me why you’re doing this? So someone can go to your family and friends to let them know?”

After all, if it was him who did it (and… wasn’t that food for thought?), he’d like Bruce and Dick to know why. To not… to not blame themselves.

Redhead looks annoyed again. Uh. A short fuse, this one.

“Don’t try any psychology, or try to make me feel guilty about hurting anyone… this isn't about anyone but me.”

He shouldn’t say it, but… “That’s pretty naive,  but whatever. Tell me anyway.” He smirks a bit, then “Unless you’re in a hurry or something.”

He hears the guy (he really should ask his name) as he tells his story. A cold, clinical part of his mind recognizes the symptoms described almost unconsciously by the guy as depression. He would know, after all. The other part of him, the part that made him Robin, that made him human, discarded the label; there was much more to this guy than his illness, and he would treat him like it.

“So here I am,” he finishes, now sitting side by side with Tim, both their legs hanging above the bustling city. “Now’s when you tell me how stupid this is. That other people have much bigger problems, there’s hunger and war, and I’m weak because my problems are nothing next to stuff like that.”

Tim thinks of a father, desperately thinking his death would save his son’s life, when in fact it would have only made it worse. He thinks of a woman, so full of love and warmth, looking into the abyss and feeling empty inside. He thinks of a couple of kids, one hanging to life with nails and teeth, the other hanging to her just as fiercely.

He thinks about himself. About looking at a future version of himself, hating what he sees, and deciding to drown the bud before it can even flower. He thinks of sickly green water, of cloning equipment in a laboratory, of a phone falling to the ground after delivering him with more bad news.

He’s still in a bad place, still probably not the most capable person to be doing this, but a part of him is sure this is the right answer. The only answer.

“No. Your problems are worse than anyone else’s, because they are yours. I’ve... felt bad like you have, and some pretty bad things have happened to me.”

Red hair looks as tired as Tim feels, so it’s a surprise that he has enough energy to glance at him worriedly, hand stretching a bit in his direction in a half-formed attempt to comfort.

“You guys make it look so easy, swinging around, having fun… Things get bad for you, too?”

Tim looks down, and smiles. It’s a sad, bitter thing. He thinks about parents lost before ever connecting to them, about a girlfriend going away, a sister lost to the madness of their lives, about two best friends gone, one even dying in his arms. 

He gives no details. Doesn’t talk about it all, just shares a little bit of himself. It’s only fair, after hearing about this guy’s demons. Misery loves company, doesn’t it?

“So what do you do? How do you deal with it?” the guy asks when he’s done, looking at Tim by the corner of his not-very-dry eyes.

Tim forces himself to remember. “One of the things I’ve learned is that it gets bad for everyone sometimes, Superman, Batman… everyone. I remember that I’m not alone, that things do get better. Sometimes on their own, most times when you work at them. And when I have trouble remembering those things, I find people to talk to.”

Most of those were dead, but Tim is hit with the epiphany that not all of them are. He still has people. He still…

“And you’ve got people like that? That you can talk to?” asks the guy, tone both worried and hopeful. Tim stands up, does his best to look calm.

“Yeah. Your folks, and old friend, even a trained counselor you’ve never met before… someone who has a totally different perspective because they’re not as close to your problems as you are. Maybe they give you advice, and that’s great… or maybe they just listen. Sometimes, that’s all you need. Anyway, that’s how I deal with it when things suck. And it works. Want to come down from there and give it a try?”

The guy gets back to his feet, as Tim watches from behind. Having been in this situation before, the fear grabbing a hold of him isn’t new, but it's different. He thinks he's too worn down. It takes the edge off of any emotion. 

Except hope. Hope still hurts like a sharp knife when it’s snatched away. He prays it won’t be, right now.

Green eyes (Jason- that’s who they reminded him of) look down, deep in thought. Then he turns, smiles at Tim. There’s hope in him too.

“Yeah, why not?”

They get down together. He gives him a few numbers and they have breakfast together. The guy promises to call his English teacher, at least. Tim promises himself to call his brother.

At least, he still has Dick.

---.----

He’s been putting off doing his rounds since he came back, he knows. But…

It changed him, a bit. Going around the world, dealing with his grief while staying on his toes, ready to break down one second and having to field off attacks from all sides the next, with the Demon’s honeyed whispers echoing in his ear and mind. 

He’ll never tell anyone, just how tempting it had been. How much he had wanted to reach for that offered hand. To lay his head on someone’s shoulder and let the responsibility bleed from his.

Tim will never tell anyone, but he’ll always know. And it’ll always make him hate himself a little bit more.

So, he’s different now. And he’s scared- that the people he gave hope to, that he talked with, that he could never stop thinking about, even halfway across the world- that they won’t like this new, worn down him.

That Mr Harrinson the Good Father, Braided Hair Lady and her sweaters, the inseparable Stray Cats, the girl with the bright yellow cardigan, the kid with the scarred wrists, the woman with beautiful star-like freckles that she’ll hopefully pass on to her baby, the gentle giant man with calloused hands, the petite but fierce young teen with defiant eyes and dead name, the soft spoken girl with the loudest laugh, auburn-haired boy and his hopeful and sympathetic green eyes… and so, so many more. They all knew him, maybe not at his best, but certainly better than now. The boy that kept them from jumping had been a bright, magical Robin. The teen that came back to their city was dark, weary Red Robin. It felt kinda like he had cheated them, returning this broken version of himself to their doorsteps.

But he had to go check on all of them. Even if Cass (and it was such a relief, that even after he lost everything else, the return of his sister could at least be a speck of light in the mist of misery surrounding him) had promised to do so, there were so many of them… and she couldn't possibly remember everyone, all the time. And if anyone had fallen through the gaps… if anyone had stood on a rooftop, waiting for their Robin to save them, only to think ‘nobody cares’ as he didn’t show up…

Tim gets sick only thinking about it. If it did happen, then he needs to know. He has to carry their names with him, that’s the least he can do for failing them.

So he’ll go check on them… anytime now. Soon. The moment he gathers enough energy to climb back to his feet and get his grapple hook out.

...The city looks full of life, beneath him. Like it feels the return of its Knight. The end of the internal quarrel among it’s vigilantes, that almost tore it all apart. The relief in Nightwing, the hesitant peace in Red Hood, the mellowing of Robin.

(He was feeling poetic tonight, in the worst ways)

Maybe it also feels Red Robin’s emptiness. Maybe that’s why it's so lively down there, like the ground is calling to him, just as it did when Ra’s broke the window with his body.

He thinks... he won’t have to check on anyone, if he jumps. And that way, there will be no name to carry with him to his grave.

“Robin!”

“Stop!”

“Don’t do it, please!”

He startles. Hadn’t even noticed when he got to his feet, nor that one of them was hanging over the abyss. The fact that he wasn’t alone on that rooftop any longer hadn’t even breached his usually perfect spatial awareness.

They didn’t call for him, but the voices sounded distraught, they were close, and he was a former Robin, so he turned around, tired, but with obedience and service too ingrained in him to consider denying help to whoever it was.

It turned out, he wouldn't need to go make his rounds any longer. His rounds had come to him.

There were… too many people on this roof. It was way too crowded.

“Robin!”

It was one voice now, not a mixture of them, so he could identify the one yelling his former alias. Allison broke from the mob of people (and there were more still, filling in from the open rooftop door, like a never-ending stream…) to run to him, looking like she might have just jumped into his arms, if not for Tom clutching her hoodie to stop her a few feet from him. Good move, considering he was still balancing precariously on the edge.

“Alleycat?” he whispered, a little blown. She looked so different (magenta looked amazing on the tips of her hair, and she totally pulled off that lip piercing), but he’d recognize those eyes anywhere. He’d been so relieved, when she first opened them after that dangerous overdose.

“We were so fucking worried, dude”, came from Tomcat just behind her, still gripping her hoodie (still keeping her safe; some things never change).

“I…”

“Where were you?” Maddie, not longer yellow but still wearing a cute cardigan, stepped up too.

“I’m… I’m not Robin”, he blurts out. They… knew it was him?  It… like, obviously there was a new Robin, Damian was (still, but probably not for much longer) smaller than him, but to immediately know that he was…

“Yeah, no shit. I’d know that long hair and noodle limbs of yours anywhere, kid. Known you too long to be fooled. And the new kid’s really trigger happy with that lon’nife of his... You’re still the Robin I prefer, and fuck if I understand the name passing you heroes do” Mr Harrinson spoke from the back of the crowd, one hand clutching his kid’s shoulder, the other arm around…

“Braided Hair Lady?”

Eloise smiles at him, soft and warm as ever, a little shy when his eyes go to the arm hugging her close and back to her. He recognizes some of her handmade scarfs around the necks of plenty of people on the roof. 

“I… wasn’t aware you all knew each other.”

A petite young teen steps forward, walking until they were shoulder-to-shoulder with the Strays.

“Most of us met through the app, and then introduced the others. There’s more, of course, but not everyone could meet here. Samantha’s baby was born just two months ago, so she chose to stay home, but we promised her pictures, so you’ll have to say cheese soon birdboy. Also, I found my name. I’m Cal.”

Allison’s smile broadened and she sneaked an arm around Cal’s waist.

“They are the new Straycat. Calico cat’s are the cutest shit ever, aren’t they?”

Well… Having someone as badass as Cal watching Tom and Alley’s back would sure make Tim feel a lot better about both kids being out in the streets. 

Were they still on the streets? He’d need to find out and fix that, soon.

Then it hit him. “What app?”

Auburn-hair smiled from his place, at the front of the crowd just behind the Cats.

“Felix over there,” he pointed over his shoulder at Mr Harrinson’s son, who smiled shyly at Tim, eyes shining in gratitude and admiration like they always did when Tim did his rounds and checked on his dad, “defended you in a GothamHeroes forum once. Some bratty douchebag was complaining about you landing over his car or something and this kid went for his fucking troath.”

“I was in that chat too,” spoke Tom, smiling a little too savagely for a kid that sweet. “He tore the idiot to shreds, speaking about how you saved his dad’s life and took it upon yourself to make sure he was still okay even weeks after you met. I mentioned how you saved Alley and Mrs Denvarow, we exchanged numbers… then we met Cal during one of our rounds handing out Mrs D’s scarfs and food. They were weary of everyone else, but trusted us because they heard you talk about the clothes and baked goods... And Cal’s friend Gina worked with Samantha on the streets and told them about her story...”

“Soon, it seemed like people personally saved by you were just… popping out of the snow like daisies” Blair laughed, and it was still the loudest, brightest noise. The night seemed a little clearer, the air a little fresher for it. “Felix made his own private chat and added us, and we added everyone else we knew… The word went around about it, and more and more people joined in…”

“It’s really a wonder how you had any time to fight crime, seeing how often you were apparently comforting jumpers on the roofs” Ailbert, still as gigantic and gentle as always, raised a hand from the middle of the group. He had a little girl on his shoulders, probably the baby niece he had taken in after his sister’s death. 

“Then the new kid appeared and Gotham went to hell on a basket, and no one saw you around any longer”, Elijah, wrists no more scarred than the last time he saw him, his arm tangled with Maddie’s, went on. “We were… well, we were a bit confused.”

“Speak for yourself, Cal jumped Red Hood one night, held him at knife point and demanded to know what the fuck happened to our Robin. We were like, zero chill.”

“Sorry, they did what?” Tim was definitely in the twilight zone now. 

“No thoughts, head empty, only murder”

...Tim needed to give Jason a quick call. Also sign Cal up for anger management. And probably, judging by the way both Alley and Tom were looking at them, get one of the adults to give them the talk.

Mrs Eloise smiled at him, and like always it served to calm his nerves. That woman was a different kind of magic than Alfred, but magic indeed. “Anyway, dear, what matters is that we were worried about you. And then this incredible young man, Aaron,” she waved at him, and he winked one of his green eyes in response, “suggested we kept in closer contact with one another, so anyone who spotted you could inform the others.”

Aaron shrugged, his auburn mane of hair bobbing with the movement. “It just seemed like it’d be easier to have an alarm set up, since messaging everyone would take so long… and then someone suggested making a map of Gotham so we could have clearer routes for the kids handing out Mrs Denvarow’s stuff… and someone wanted a shared blackboard to write theories on where the fuck you were with others… and a few demanded a space to share photos, possible sightings or old selfies with you… It kinda spiralled and I thought it’d be less of a chaotic mess if I made an app that could do all of that, instead of all of us using multiple apps for the different fixtures everyone asked for… Since this is Gotham, we also added some Rouge Alarm for whenever a criminal was set loose. It helped keep us safe, and if we knew when crime was happening, we could pay attention to which heroes answered the call…”

“And then, you fought that firefly guy the other day”, Felix said, still by his dad’s side, still looking as awed as ever when looking at tim. “I was in the crowd, and I recognized you within a minute.”

“I don’t really understand technology that well, and the group chat was such a mess that day” Ailbert lamented, but he was still smiling. They all were.

That hit Tim then, hard. 

They all looked so happy to see him. To have him back. They had been waiting for him to be back, banded together to make sure they’d all know when he did.

“You looked so sad the last time we saw you” Blair added softly, sadly. “And… when you saved Aaron, you told him about such sad things…”

Elijah winced “And I heard the Midnighter fell from Wayne Tower a few weeks ago, but then he was never seen around again, and your suit looks kinda similar, so that was probably really you… and, that fall…”

“We were very worried” repeated Eloise, but her eyes didn’t lose their warmth. “But you’re back now, and we can keep track of you and each other now, so it’s all good. It’s wonderful to have you back, love.”

This was an out of body experience.

Something must have shown on his face, because Cal snorted.

“We adore you, you dumbass. You are our hero.”

Alley smiled. “You are our Robin.”

Tim fell into her arms, and away from the roof’s edge. The rest of the crowd was upon them in seconds, all eager to pat his back or joke about the cowl hiding his hair from their hands.

He met eyes with Aaron, over Alley’s shoulder. He looked like the hope Tim had helped plant in his heart all those months ago had flowered, and the petals filled his heart.

(He was feeling poetic tonight, in the best ways)

“You should download the app too, so you always have someone to talk to. Look it up. It’s called BirdWatchers, because we’ll always look up and out for you. Because when we wanted to jump, you lended us your wings to fly instead.”

It was like this fucker wanted Tim to cry.

“Welcome home, Red Robin.”

[ibijau]

Concubine nhs / on AO3

Hey! It’s been over a year! but I’ve updated this! Miracles do happen!

The letter arrives just a week after Nie Mingjue and the emperor’s visit (a visit so brief that both were long gone by the time everyone woke up, having foregone sleep and hurried toward the capital to organise the now inevitable war), and its contents are a surprise to everyone. Certainly, Nie Huaisang is the most shocked of all to be invited to the capital by a cousin of his father who currently holds a high office in the imperial administration. The surprise is greater still when, upon reading the letter, his father finds subtle hints that the request is not to be denied, as it is the emperor’s own desire.

It has to be Nie Mingjue’s doing, they both agree. Now that the war is there, he must have asked his childhood friend to ensure the safety of his bastard brother. Qinghe is far too close to the border after all, while Gusu is far away from the fight and as safe a place as can be. 

Father is not happy with this turn of event. He complains that Nie Huaisang was only starting to be useful to the house, that he had hoped to rely on him to organise supplies to the troops and to keep their house safe while Mingjue and him would be on the frontline. He speaks of scolding his oldest son for being selfish, and even half accuses Nie Huaisang of having organised this to avoid his duties, in spite of being so generously legitimised. In the end though, Father can’t go against an imperial order, and Nie Huaisang is sent away the very next day, having barely been given any time to pack for what might be a long stay in the capital.

It is a long trip to Gusu, made longer by the use of a carriage. Nie Huaisang is not a skilled enough rider to travel so far on horseback. His father had never seen the point of letting him learn until recently, stating a servant had no need for it. As slow days pass, Nie Huaisang entertains himself by chatting with his own servant (a man who until recently was not just his equal but his superior due to seniority), by admiring the landscape (it is his first time leaving Qinghe and its mountains, and the plains they traverse fill him with unease until they approach Gusu and new mountains save him from the oppressive flatness), and by wondering what will become of him in the capital.

Although they’ve all been quick to blame Nie Mingjue, as he travels toward Gusu and falls prey to boredom, Nie Huaisang allows himself to form another theory regarding his sudden summoning. It is only a fantasy, a silly idea, but he cannot stop thinking about that handsome young man with the mismatched robes he’d seen in his brother’s room that night. He had introduced himself as being part of the imperial family, and was of an age with the emperor, so he might have just enough influence to make a request to the son of heavens. For example, a request to have a certain seventeen years old bastard sent to the capital so they can continue their conversation.

It’s ridiculous, and Nie Huaisang sternly scolds himself whenever his thoughts go in that direction. But he cannot help himself. That young man had smiled so nicely, he’d laughed at Nie Huaisang’s weak jokes, he’d been much more polite than anyone ever bothered to be, and he’d said that he hoped to see him again. Wouldn't it be a lovely story if Nie Huaisang had made such a strong impression? He’s certainly thought a lot about that young man, even before the letter arrived. That imperial relative had been so handsome, his mouth so made to be kissed. His personality had been pleasant as well. 

In short, Nie Huaisang only wants the chance of a second meeting, and he’s quite certain he could fall in love with that handsome stranger.

-

Nie Huaisang’s cousin welcomes him with little warmth, but that’s only to be expected. On his only recent visit to Qinghe, Nie Funyu has made it quite clear that he does not approve of his relative’s decision to elevate a mere bastard, and a servant’s son at that, to the position of legitimate son. So after perfunctory welcomes, some exchanges of gifts, and the usual questions about everyone’s health, Nie Funyu abandons Nie Huaisang to the care of his personal servant, a young man by the name of Meng Yao.

Meng Yao and Nie Huaisang immediately strike a great friendship, in spite of their difference in status. It is something Nie Huaisang knows he will be scolded with, but he sympathises too much with servants, and forgets he no longer is one. Still, it would be hard not to like Meng Yao who shows him around the house, gives him rules to follow, advises him how to best please his uncle, and even shares some news about Nie Mingjue. They’ve missed each other, it turns out; Nie Mingjue left the capital only two days before his brother arrived, unable to delay his return to the border a moment longer.

That first morning is quite pleasant. Then, after a refined lunch, Meng Yao informs Nie Huaisang that he has been instructed to urgently take him to buy a better set of robes. The ones he’s brought are his best ones, but while they’re good enough for Qinghe, they just won’t do for Gusu, and especially not for a presentation to the emperor. How the emperor already knows that Nie Huaisang is in the capital, or indeed why he should care, is a mystery to both of them. But a message has already reached Nie Funyu’s house that his young cousin is to come to the imperial palace the next day, so the emperor might see for himself the younger brother of his dear friend Nie Mingjue.

It is not to be a formal meeting. After all Nie Huaisang holds no office, he is nobody, so there is little need for him to be introduced to the emperor the way a true son of noble blood would be. Instead, Nie Huaisang is encouraged to be present in a certain garden with his cousin at a certain hour, where the emperor might see him, and perhaps even acknowledge his presence, provided that nothing more important comes up.

That Meng Yao finds suitable robes on such short notice says a lot about his skill. Nie Huaisang, who had briefly wondered how a man barely three or four years older than himself could have become such a high ranking servant in so noble a house, finds his question answered and promises himself to learn from his new friend, so he can better serve his father when he returns home. To make it better, the robes that Meng Yao found are gorgeous. They’re second hand, since nothing new could have been found under such a delay, but they fit Nie Huaisang wonderfully, and make him look like he is worthy of being his father’s son. 

Nie Huaisang’s vanity is only increased the next morning when Meng Yao takes it upon himself to help with his hair. Nie Huaisang has always done that on his own, and his servant is not trained into that sort of task, so he is again grateful to Meng Yao for his help, especially when he’s so nervous that his hands tremble.

“What sort of man is the emperor?” Nie Huaisang asks as Meng Yao crafts elegant braids into his hair.

“Master says he is very wise for his age, and knows to carefully listen to his advisors before making decisions. He does his best to be impartial, and to listen to all sides of a story before passing judgement. Truly we are blessed to have such an emperor, he is far more dedicated to his people than his father was.”

“But as a person?”Nie Huaisang insists, chewing on his bottom lips. “Is he nice? He has to be, or Mingjue wouldn’t like him so much, but…”

Meng Yao smiles as he gathers the braids into a bun, and secures an elegant guan upon Nie Huaisang’s head, making him look like someone who isn’t him. Like someone who knows how to give order without doubting they'll be obeyed, and who has never cleaned a single pot in his life.

“Young Master Nie need not worry about the emperor’s personality,” Meng Yao says, stepping back to admire his work with a critical eye, before pulling in his robes a little here, straightening his collar there. “Young Master Nie is unlikely to have any occasion to meet his imperial highness after today. Even this encounter today will only happen as a mark of favour to your brother, and his imperial highness will most likely only address my Master, as you are not of a rank to be taken notice of.”

That is enough to quiet Nie Huaisang’s nerves a little. Enough at least to eat something and drink some tea before they set out toward the imperial palace. On the way there, Nie Funyu gives him a dozen orders, telling him how to conduct himself, how to stand, where to look, how to speak. It is clear he expects Nie Huaisang to make a fool of himself, and he might be right, but Nie Huaisang is determined to try his best to please everyone. Without Meng Yao’s comforting presence to calm him, his nerves are getting the better of him again, though it helps to remind himself that the emperor doesn’t care one bit about him. 

But also, if that young man with the pleasant smile is there, if he looks at Nie Huaisang, if he smiles at him again…

A foolish hope, when so many people live in the imperial palace. But it is a hope to which Nie Huaisang clings desperately. If they should meet again, if they could become acquainted… It is all Nie Huaisang really thinks about as his cousin and him head for the garden where they’ve been ordered to go, as they wait for the emperor to appear. 

At the time given to them, the emperor comes for a walk, heading their way. He is a young man, not much older than Nie Huaisang himself, but that much he already knew, since the son of heavens only came of age that year. What Nie Huaisang didn’t know, what he could never have imagined, was that the emperor should have such a warm smile, or that he would look even more beautiful when he isn’t soaked from heavy rains and wearing mismatched robes.

-

What passed during that brief meeting, Nie Huaisang could hardly say. He remembers only that the emperor smiled at him, called him by his name, and expressed the wish to become better acquainted with him, perhaps over a game of weiqi someday.

Nie Huaisang doesn’t know what he said in answer. He thinks he accepted both the offer of friendship and the invitation to play, if only because to refuse would have been impossible.

He doesn’t see the dark expression on his cousin’s face as they head back home, and barely hears the questions asking if he’s met the emperor before, where, what he said, what the emperor said. Nie Funyu isn't happy with the answers he's hearing, but Nie Huaisang hardly notices that either.

“Your father will have to be notified of this immediately,” Nie Funyu says when they are home again. “If the emperor has that sort of plans… well, the timing is not bad. We need his full support, and this isn’t a bad way to obtain it. Tomorrow you’ll go again with Meng Yao to buy another set of new robes. He’ll know how to dress you to your advantage.”

Nie Huaisang, touched by such generosity, can only nod and thank his cousin, before asking to be excused for the afternoon. It has been a while since he’s had a worthy opponent while playing weiqi, he wants to read about strategy to refresh his memory.

He also wants to be alone, just so he can laugh at himself a little.

To think that for weeks now, he’s been daydreaming about kissing the emperor! It’s the funniest thing in the world, and it should be a good lesson to him about letting silly emotions get out of control.

After all the emperor might be handsome, and he might have a pleasant smile, but he’s the emperor, and quite out of reach for someone like Nie Huaisang.

[remakethestars]

CABIN 10 — APHRODITE

Headcanons.

❝I want to apologize to all the women I have called pretty before I’ve called them intelligent or brave. I am sorry I made it sound as though something as simple as what you’re born with is the most you have to be proud of when your spirit has crushed mountains. From now on, I will say things like, ‘You are resilient,’ or, ‘You are extraordinary.’ Not because I don’t think you’re pretty. But because you are so much more than that.❞ 

— Rupi Kaur

Headcanon masterlist.

They’re the camp hairdressers. You need a trim? You want it cut? You want it died? You want to shave it all off? Hit ‘em up.

The type of people that will straight-up chop their hair if it doesn't match their outfit. Somehow, it always works out? I'm looking at Micarah Tewers.

They also run a secret ear piercing — or anything else you need to pierce — parlor.

Okay, but consider: children of Aphrodite that grow up to be models.

They can charm speak the photographers into letting them pick their own poses & not make them do seductive ones if they’re not comfortable with them.

Some create clothing lines that represent sustainable fashion & have big names but small carbon footprints.

Some are spies.

Think about it! They know how to switch subtle bits of their personality to fit in with everyone they come across, when & when not to use their charm.

The hide outfits under other outfits & can slip one off in public to reveal the other & lose a tail.

And they'd probably be great at disguise makeup. Add a prosthetic chin, contour their nose differently, pull off their wig, & they're a completely different person.

Plus, their combat training at C.H.B. makes them the perfect agent.

The floor next to their bunk is scattered with fabric cuttings, pins, needles, their sewing machine, serger, & measuring tape.

The number of times someone's gotten a needle or pin in their foot's a tad concerning.

Will absolutely not wear a top with an overstitched collar. Fast fashion is so tacky! Understitch is the way to go, the staple of a quality garment.

Vintage is better. Not because it's in style (that's a plus, though), but because the seams are big enough for you to let out, & it's made to last.

Experts at thrifting. Not just 'cause it's trendy or whatever, but because they're excellent at upcycling & far too many perfectly good clothes go into the land fill each year.

Make stunning dresses out of Good Will table cloths & curtains.

Or stitch two items together into one better whole.

They iron their clothes; they're not animals.

Really good at getting stains out?

Totally in on the corset bustier top trend, but they're using spiral steel boning in place of zip-ties. Because, again, they want things to last & they're not tacky.

Pass each other tips. Like to tuck your top into your tights to avoid the bulge under your skirt.

Some found big-name, organic makeup companies that don't test on animals. They use packaging that can be recycled or that's biodegradable.

Borrow their clothes, sure, whatever, but double-dip in their makeup & die. The bacteria will give them acne. (Or is it the oils? Either way, you'll perish.)

Happy to drop their skincare routine, though.

You need to cover up that tattoo you got from C7? They got you.

Flawless makeup on a budget. Expensive doesn't always mean better.

They're taking you to the pool for a first date? Take a seat, C10 knows just the stuff. They use what Disney Princesses use.

Can guess the right shade of foundation/lipstick for you on the first couple tries.

A lot of them invest in magnetic lashes because glue's a b¡tch.

Reusable makeup wipes.

Rick says C10 kids just sit around the lake & check their reflection, but consider: working out gets them their dream bod. So, yes, they do, in fact, train.

They just do it with intricate braids/hair gel & stylish sportwear.

And if a potential partner finds it unattractive that they’re “too muscly,” they’re no longer a potential partner.

Weapons disguised as jewelry or chapstick/lipstick.

Thalia had a mace canister that turned into a spear, & I gotta say, I.D.K. how she planned to get that through security. Imagine, alternatively, a tube that appears to be full of bright red lipstick when the T.S.A. agent opens it, but actually turns into a spear when opened by a half-blood.

(I have a headcanon that Riptide would just be a pen in the hands of a mortal. Bounced around for years as random objects until Poseidon nabbed it & took it to Chiron — recall that pen you lost?)

A pink, velvet choker that turns into a kopis with a dove embossed in the handle.

Many choose to train in heels. Might as well wear in training what they’ll be wearing when attacked in the street.

They’ve got no time for internalized misogyny. 

“C10′s weak ‘cause they like being pretty!” Good way to lose a kneecap, Annabeth. You’ve grown up in this camp, you knew Selina, & you should know better.

They confront Piper’s misogyny pretty early on after The Lost Hero, but Piper still takes some time to get over her bias toward pink.

Are we not gonna talk about Rick’s fashion choices for Piper throughout the series? “She looks so fashionable.” To whom, Rick? To whom?

You couldn’t’ve done a little internet surfing just to see what was in style? I never leave the house in anything but jeans, Converse, & a graphic t-shirt from Walmart, & even I know she’s dressed like a middle-schooler! Probably because that’s how I dressed in middle-school… That’s not the point.

The point is just because a character likes makeup or fashion or the color pink, doesn’t mean they can’t/won’t fight for their lives & the lives of their friends if/when the time comes. And it doesn’t mean that they’re stupid or judgmental.

I don’t know a lot about makeup. Hades, I don’t even wear makeup — you can’t rub your eyes or scratch your face; it would drive me crazy. I don’t know a lot about fashion either. I don’t understand it, but I can respect it.

❝‘Jesus,’ Sara says as Branley walks past us. ‘Too cold to show off cleavage, so instead she goes for jeans so tight I can see her thong.’ ‘She looks nice,’ I say, and she does. Branley always looks put together in a way that tells me she spends hours in front of a mirror before going outside. And while I don’t understand that, I can respect it.❞

— Alex Craft, Mindy McGinnis’s The Female of the Species

According to The Lost Hero, all children of Aphrodite intuitively speak French. Cool, cool, cool — but consider, all of them also intuitively speak the language of flowers. 

They see a red rose, and they just know it symbolizes love & passion. They see an orange lily, to contrast, & they know it symbolizes hatred. 

There’s a copy of The Language of Flowers in their cabin, and it’s full of annotations, like, So-and-so gave these to so-and-so for Valentines Day! And, So-and-so gave these to so-and-so after their kiss on the Fourth of July; they obviously didn’t do their research! 

They work together with C4 (Demeter) to provide flowers for funerals & the like.

C10 bookshelves also contain a lot of romance novels. 

Beaten up copies of Pride & Prejudice & The Fault in Our Stars with faded highlighter over the beautiful lines & annotations in the margins.

The outside walls are a dusty pink, & the wood’s stained a dark brown that goes surprisingly well with the pink.

Inside, the walls are covered in faded wallpaper.

The southwest wall has a bay window with extra storage in the seat. (There’s not a body in there; they swear.)

(That’s an Arsenic & Old Lace reference, for you youngsters.)

The curtains have one chiffon layer closer to the window & a thicker floral fabric for inside. The thick curtains are replaced based on the season & whether or not someone’s decided to make a romper out of them.

They have a real bell jar with a real rose in front of the window. Legend has it it’s from Aphrodite herself.

Said window is a stained glass image of a dove.

The chaise lounge was probably beautiful when it was brought it, but it’s got fingernail polish & makeup stains on it now. Honestly, someone should really have that thing cleaned.

As you might have noticed, I placed a gif of swans at the top instead of a fancast for Aphrodite. This is because I think, as I believe most Percy Jackson fans do, multiple people should play her. I'd cast Arden Cho, Camila Mendes, Candice Patton, Diane Kruger, & Gal Gadot to start with.

Visit my Aphrodite cabin Pinterest board or my headcanon masterlist.

DISCLAIMER ━━━ I know I got a tad political with this one, but I didn’t & don’t intend to offend anyone. ━━━ These headcanons are what I consider to be canon in my fanfictions. They may be others’s headcanons I’ve subconsciously filed away in my noggin. If one’s yours and you want it removed or credited, please send me your post and let me know.