#first time buying earrings myself :O though i always have worn them

[astrxealis]

got really cute earrings during my school fair! the person selling them (a cute girl hehe made them too) got amused with me and lune being twins that i think she gave us a discount (either because of that or because we bought multiple hehe) <3

[ackerfics]

hange and their best friend (reader) "platonically" flirt with one another, they use pet names for each other, making others think they're together unintentionally. until reader finds an s/o, not knowing hange actually likes them

she — hange zoe

— hange zoe x female reader (modern au)

— warnings: angst ??? the stinging feeling you get when you see someone you love, love someone else

— summary: hange's best friend found love in the form of autumn while hange associates her with all of the seasons.

— word count: 2.5k

— notes: i love hange but i hate myself for writing something that hurts them :<<< they're my first love in aot and it pains me to imagine them hurting in any sort of way (which is probably the reason why i bawled my heart out in chap 132). this little fic hit too close at home for me bc it's exactly what i felt one time during high school. it's fucking traumatizing and istg, i don't want to relive falling in love with a friend again, it's like the most satisfying way to hurt, too. happy reading tho :<<<

reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

She embodies everything positive in Hange’s eyes.

She is spring — the bursting of blossoms under the tendrils of sunlight seeping between the spaces of the trees in the woods. Every time Hange closes their eyes, they are reminded of how she signifies every single flower they ever know. She makes them feel everything at once — see every color at once in a single frame. There is no space for artistic abilities in Hange’s calloused, mismatched hands but when it comes to her, they can create a myriad of paintings encapsulating her beauty at every stroke of a brush. Her laughs, her flowery perfume that doesn’t hurt their nose, her smiles that are as radiant as the early morning Sun — are ingrained in their brain. She brings forth the butterflies that Hange carefully imprisoned in their ribs, the monarchs’ wings already seeping through the cracks at every joke she makes, reaching to their heart until every beat swayed to the sound of her giggles.

“Hange, the love of my life, there you are!”

Hange turned around with a huge smile on their lips. Their conversation with Levi came to an abrupt stop, with the shorter man mumbling along the lines of ‘here we go again’. The small smile on his face spoke otherwise while watching two of his closest friends hug each other as if they didn’t live together in an apartment right outside of campus. It was such a mystery that Hange could be so comfortable around someone to the point of playfully kissing their neck in public, followed by their best friend’s melodious laughs soon after. However, Levi couldn’t be fooled. He knew the glint in the brown-haired person’s eyes. The downturn of their eyebrows when their best friend wasn’t looking. The longing was apparent when she was talking to someone across the room.

The idiot going by the name Hange Zoe was irrevocably in love with their best friend, [Name] [Last Name].

“What is it, baby?” Hange asked vibrantly, glasses reflecting the equally excited girl in their arms. “Didn’t know your class dismissed this early. What happened?”

“Nothing. Our professor announced that we should visit a museum for our finals.” She then mimicked the haughty tone of her Art History professor, straightening her back to make herself appear taller. “Choose a painting or a sculpture and trace down its history and attach your critique in the final output. If I see anyone half-assing this paper, I will not hesitate to give a failing grade that will make you retake this class. I know you lot don’t want to see me again for another semester and I don’t want to see you again, too. So, prove to me you’re worth your standing in this course.” She cleared her throat. “What he said.”

Hange whistled. “Dang, I’m happy that I didn’t follow you to the Arts Department. Your professor sounds like a complete asshole.” They chortled the next second. “Sounds like my mom, to be honest.”

“At least your mom makes a bomb bento box.”

“Yeah, I guess, you’re right.” Hange then nuzzled their face in her hair. “But your bento boxes taste much more delicious — I could eat them all day. Can I be your partner so that you’ll cook for me every day?”

“I’ve already taken the position of your wife the moment I agreed to be your roommate in university, sweetheart. And I cook for you every single day so you don’t have to ask to be my partner because you already are.”

Hange looked smug at her reply, the heat in their cheeks traveling to their ears. “That was a rhetorical question but hearing those words come out of your mouth, it’s making me feel things.”

“Oh? What are those things?”

The brown-haired person snickered under their breath, glancing at Levi who was now looking at the two of them in that lazy way of his that might come off as him being annoyed again. In reality, he was only waiting for the two to finally stop flirting to recognize he was there. His daily job of being a third-wheel should’ve started fifteen minutes ago but Hange wouldn’t let [Name] go. Hange turned back to the expectant girl. “I don’t want Levi to hear what I’m about to say. Just expect something back at the apartment,” they joked, a cheeky smile tugging at their lips.

[Name] laughed heartily. “I’m looking forward to that, gorgeous.”

“I’m still here, you know?” Levi dryly made himself known. He huffed and turned around in the direction of the university restaurant. “Come on, lovebirds, let’s have lunch. Oh, and [Name]?” When he heard her little hum of acknowledgment, Levi slightly turned around to meet his friend’s eyes with his jaded ones. “It’s your turn to buy me a drink. Make it a venti today.” She only blinked at him, giving him no choice but to resort to that dumb thing she always asked. “Please can I have a venti this time? I got you and Hange a venti last time so this makes us even.”

“Ooh, make mine a venti, too, baby!” Hange squeezed their best friend’s waist.

“Anything for my sweetheart.”

“Again, I’m right here, you know.”

Just the thought of that little scenario hurts Hange.

But as much as the pain comes in the package, she is still summer in their eyes.

The Sun can’t compare to the brilliance of her smile. Kind smiles and gentle touches under the warm rays of the summer heat. Her scent is yellow to Hange — so bright and warm that they don’t care how long they bask in her presence, never caring if they get burned because it feels so right to be within her orbit. She urges them to feel so loved and so special, tender caresses of her warmth cascading down every vein until it reaches their heart. The cerulean waters of the sea hold nothing against the beauty of her grins, brown eyes searching for her every time of the day no matter how ethereal the world painted itself to be. Viewing the sights with rose-colored glasses is what they may call it but for Hange, it’s simply her. Someone once said that summer brings forth a paradise where blue covers everything in its wake, the cry of the seagulls reverberating in the distance, and the scent of ice cream flickers in the breeze. For Hange, summer is in the form of pretty close-lipped smiles, of late-night movie marathons on a worn-out couch, of bento boxes filled with their favorites, of a scent so saccharine, and a loyal friend.

A friend.

Of course. No matter where Hange goes, that word haunts them. Hidden beneath their smiles, their jokes, their longing, and admiring stares. It’s a reminder of where they stand in this limbo they created. At one point, they thought that line had been crossed only for it to be established again in permanent ink. And before they know it, Hange is tumbling down in a spiral, along with a change of seasons.

Fall is where everything started.

The orange glow of the leaves created the perfect view as she sipped on her tall cup of warm coffee. The blissful sigh that came soon after warmed up Hange, even though they were seated in front of each other in the outside tables of the small cozy café where Levi was working at. The chill brought by the autumn wind caused both of them to shiver in their layered clothing. The way she nuzzled more into her scarf made Hange coo, reaching out to pinch her cheek affectionately. Autumn was both their favorite season, how it made them resort to the comfort and warmth their sweaters bring, or how they cuddle in each other’s beds with the air conditioner blasting despite the cold. It was also a season where Hange could admire her in their hoodie, a piece of clothing that swallows her whole because she’s so small compared to their lanky figure.

Hange remembered being called out here because she wanted to talk about something. Now that they thought about it, her cheeks appear to be glowing more than usual and she kept glancing inside the café where Levi was busy telling his coworker how to make the new drink. Hange even went as far as following her gaze but they didn’t find anything out of the ordinary other than Levi sighing in that stressful way of his that always made them snicker. They turned back to their Sun, who was once again in a daze while staring at the clear windows of the café. “So,” they prolonged the syllable, “how’s life going, darling? I know we’re living in the same apartment but I just can’t help but ask you this because it seems like you’re always in a daze these days.”

A pause made the breeze’s call known.

“Hey, Hange, have you ever been in love?”

That spread the chill even more inside Hange’s chest. She called them by their name. Not sweetheart nor big spoon. The reality washed over Hange like a pail of freezing water.

“W-What?” Damn, they couldn’t keep the stutter off their words.

She turned her head to them, eyes so soft and smile so beautiful that made Hange breathless for one second. The butterflies dwindled, losing their iridescent wings when they realized that look wasn’t reserved for them anymore. “I thought about it,” she murmured, rubbing her numbing fingertips on the warm cup. “I have never fallen in love with anyone before. Sure, I love you and all our friends but I’ve never stopped and thought about how someone can look like starlight in front of me. But recently,” again, that pretty smile that pierced Hange’s chest, “I never knew that it could hit me that unexpectedly.”

Hange grinned despite the pounding of her chest. “So, who’s the lucky person?”

She chuckled, going back to staring at the interior of the café. “I told Levi to lay off on scolding her but he never listens, says she’ll never grow a backbone if he’s being considerate on her.”

Now, they’re confused because the only people manning the counter as she spoke was Levi (and she would never fall in love with Levi, seeing as they grew up together like siblings rather than the childhood friends that they are) and a strawberry blonde who looked like Levi’s become their worst nightmare. It took Hange a full minute to process that the person she’s been staring at was never their mutual friend, but the strawberry blonde who looked up towards their direction and waved with a pretty blush on their cheeks. She waved back with the same shyness, leaving Hange dumbfounded. “Wait, the person you’re in love with is—”

“Yeah, it’s her.”

Suddenly, Hange understands why she’s starting to like autumn.

It reminds her of the girl’s hair, which she gushes about smelling like coconut. It reminds her of the girl’s preferred perfume, how it smells so much like cinnamon, something that she sometimes puts in her autumn drinks because in her words, ‘it’s the perfect season rather than winter’. It reminds her of the girl’s hugs, the way both of them fit with each other like lost puzzle pieces.

But as the seasons change, feelings of long-term pining will always be constant.

“Are you okay, though?” Erwin asked them, blue eyes reflecting their pathetic faux smile. He pushed the plate of pasta to them since Erwin had an idea that Hange wasn’t eating that much now. It also worried [Name].

“Yeah, four-eyes, I know you’re not doing that great and I’m saying this in the friendliest way possible because we’re worried now,” Levi reminded them, sipping on his tea with slightly narrowed eyes. “You always decline whenever we want to bring you to somewhere, to the point of leaving Nanaba on voicemail. You always answer at the first ring. Look here, shitty four-eyes,” the way Levi enunciated the nickname made Hange slowly turn their head to him, face void of the smile they were known for, “shouldn’t you be happy for her? [Name] gained the courage to confess and you’re here moping when you should’ve been supportive—”

“And what of my feelings, Levi?”

That made Levi blink and feel like an asshole.

Then, the dam broke.

“I’ve been with her all this time, you’ve seen that. You witnessed how this shy girl opened up to an extroverted idiot and became one of her best friends during high school. It feels like I can’t fucking breathe because I always thought we were meant to be. When she was lonely, I was there to comfort her. When she got a bad grade on an exam, I was the one who knows what flavors of ice cream she wants or how she eats them together like a fucking milkshake. Every day, I never expected her to look my way like she looks at her girlfriend right now. It fucking hurts. It feels so empty to know that I’m not the one she fell in love with. What did I lack? Should I be sweeter and gentler like that girl? Or dainty whenever I eat like she is? Be girly and dress up like a doll? Fuck, I can’t even bring myself to hate her girlfriend. She’s so nice and kind and sweet, anything I’m not.” Hange buried their hands in their hair, making it messier than it was.

“I just want [Name] to love me and make things wonderful. Why isn’t Fate on my side this time?

“Why didn’t she choose me?”

Tears were now drifting down like snowflakes.

“Hange,” Erwin murmured.

“Look, sunshine, it’s snowing!”

A voice catches their attention. A strawberry blonde cheers the words with glee painted in her eyes. Beside her is the subject of the trio’s conversation, the subject of a brown-haired person’s affections. Her eyes are taking in the beauty that is her girlfriend. She looks so pretty in love — how her eyes crinkled at the corners and how snow clung on her eyelashes as if she is a fairy straight from a fairy tale Hange loves when she was a kid. Her girlfriend takes her hand and pulls her to the restaurant where the trio is watching from the windows. Gray and blue irises slide over a somber bespectacled person, gauging their reaction though their face never gives anything away.

“I’m right behind you, Petra. I just took the time to admire you because you’re so pretty under the snow.”

“Stop it! You’re prettier!”

“Did you know that seeing the first snow of the year together with the person you love, your relationship will rival that of eternity?”

“Then, I’m happy I get to see this first snow with you, sunshine.”

“Me, too, angel.”

Hange smiles under a steady stream of tears. “I’m happy for her. I’m happy she found happiness even if it’s not with me.”

The chill blows inside the warm walls of the restaurant the moment the door opens, [Name]’s joyous greetings for her best friends bringing smiles to two of them. Her eyes drift to brown ones before turning to Petra to ask for a pack of tissues since Hange’s tears are still visible. Hange watches the commotion with a small smile, the chill spreading through them like a snowstorm.

Winter is here.

general taglist:

@angelofthorr

[babybluebex]

everyone loves an outlaw [arvin russell x reader smut]

➽ pairing: mob!arvin russell x fem!reader(y/n) ➽ word count: 2.2k ➽ summary: arvin works for your dad and you have to keep your relationship a secret. ➽ warnings: NSFW/MDNI. smut, explicit language, age gap (reader is legal tho!), fingering (f!receiving), praise kink, breeding kink ➽ a/n: mob!arvin goes brrrr hehe​

In small towns, there weren’t many ways out. A job was the usual way-- graduate high school and get a job out of town and leave Coal Creek in your dust. Sometimes, though, the job search was fruitless and many people, young and old, were left to rot in West Virginia. That seemed to be the case for Arvin Russell. We went to high school together, him being a senior when I was a freshman, and I remember my father going on about him. “Gonna get him when he graduates,” Daddy said. “Not lettin’ somethin’ like him get outta here.” 

Legally speaking, my dad’s business was in bail bonds. We had family in Chicago that we worked for, and the line of work that my father did was less on the end of selling the bonds and more towards extracting the payments. Coal Creek had a few names for what my family did-- “mob”, “mafia” (which were technically two different things, but the people in Coal Creek had no hope of ever distinguishing the two)-- but we preferred to call it family. 

And, God almighty, Arvin Russell was in need of family. When he graduated, he had a bright future ahead of him, but that flame was put out when his little sister died. Lenora was a year ahead of me, quiet and reserved and very bookish, and it took the entire town by surprise when we heard that she had died. Rumors flew around as to why; she was sick and didn’t want to burden her family with her illness was a popular one. When Lenora died, Arvin lost his way. Wayward young men looking for protection and acceptance was my dad’s type when it came to employment. 

He had me do it. I usually was the one to go out and hire young men. Papa realized fairly quickly that men would do basically anything I asked of them, including signing themselves into our little family, so, one day in my senior year of high school, I went to the garage where Arvin Russell worked. He split his time between road construction and the garage and, when I met him properly, he had grease all over his hands. “Hi, Arv,” I said sweetly. 

His pink mouth had quirked into a smile. “Hey, doll,” he said. “You’re Y/N? From high school, ain’t ya? Ya daddy’s got that bail bond thing goin’?” 

“That’s me,” I said. “I, uh…” I had a script that I had to stick to. “I… I was just wonderin’ if ya wanted to get dinner sometime. Maybe go to a drive-in? That car you’ve got is pretty neat.” 

“You like my car?” Arvin asked, and I giggled out a yes. “Ya sure it’s the car ya like, doll?” 

“Not as much as the driver,” I said, biting my lip. ‘C’mon, Arv, this is takin’ a lot of courage to ask ya.” 

Arvin sat up from the rolling creeper he was at and wiped his hands on the thighs of his pants. “You really wanna go out with me?” he asked. His voice was dripping with absolute sarcasm, but his honey-colored eyes held something more hopeful. I knew, right then, that we got him. 

“Well, yeah,” I mumbled sheepishly, picking at a loose thread on my blouse. “I’ve kinda had my eye on you since… Forever, I guess. I-I just think you’re outta sight, Arvin.” 

Arvin’s eyes glanced over me, still wearing my clothes from school, and he gave me a smile, much more sincere than ever before. “Sure thing, doll,” he said softly. “What d’ya say to Friday night?” 

Friday night came, and it was quickly obvious that the movie would be forgotten. Instead of that, Arvin and I ended up in the backseat of his car, his hand up my shirt, making marks on my neck that my dad would be mad at. I never planned on fucking Arvin and, while I had no qualms about doing so, I stopped when his long fingers began to dance at my panties. “Arvie,” I panted, grabbing his wrist. “I ain’t ever done nothin’ like this before. I-I just--”

Arvin kissed me softly, his hand holding my cheek tenderly. “No sweat, doll,” he told me. “We’ll go as fast or slow as you want. I’m here for you.” 

I was supposed to break it off with him after that, but I just couldn’t. There was a bit of truth to what I said when I asked him out initially, that I had my eye on him for a while. I had always thought that Arvin was pretty cute, and I enjoyed the time I had with him. We had to sneak around, though, because my dad would have cast both of us out if he knew. While I was supposed to fluff up their egos and convince them to join the business, I wasn’t supposed to fool around with the guys my dad hired. Arvin was different, though, in a way that I couldn’t put my finger on. He was kinder, a gentler soul than most, hidden behind a gruff exterior. 

School was grueling, but the sight of the old Chevy waiting in the parking lot for me brought me comfort. Arvin stood near the door of the school, smoking a cigarette as he waited for me, and a smile passed his face when he saw me. 

“Arvin, you know damn well that you aren’t supposed to be here right now,” I hissed quickly. “My daddy’ll kill you.” 

“I reckon he’d have to catch me first,” Arvin chuckled. His smile promised illicit moments in the coming minutes, and he added, “It looks like it’s gonna rain and I was thinkin’ of offering you a ride. Wouldn’t want ya to walk and get all wet and melt.” 

“Why would I melt?” I asked. “I ain’t no witch.” 

“Nah, but you’re all made of sugar,” Arvin told me. “C’mon, babydoll. I know you want to. I might even buy you a milkshake if you’re good to me.” 

“Good to you?” I laughed. “Right, ‘cause that’s my goal in life, Arv, is to please you. Fuck off.” 

“Dolly’s got an attitude today,” Arvin drawled around his cigarette. His dark eyes were full of energy and promised nothing but fun, and the fact that he hadn’t given up his advances yet let me know that he saw right through my fake resistant measures. After all, he knew that I would give in no matter what, just as I always did. “Jesus, woman, you’re makin’ me work for it today, huh? This is fun for you, yeah?” 

“Oh, so much fun,” I assured him. “I love makin’ ya dance, Arvie.” 

“Shit, do I gotta get down on one knee?” Arvin laughed. “I was hoping that you’d be all graduated first but--” 

I tugged Arvin close by his worn leather belt and I silenced him with a kiss to his cheek. My pink lipstick left a mark on his skin, and I said, “We can talk ‘bout that later. Thanks for the ride, loverboy.” 

“Never a problem with you, doll,” Arvin told me. 

As usual, we ended up parked at the river, with Arvin’s hand up my skirt. My hips bucked up into his hand as his skilled fingers found home inside me, and a soft whimper fell from my lips. “Vinny,” I whispered quickly; that name was reserved for moments like this. “O-Oh, fuck!” 

“Such a good girl,” Arvin whispered in my ear, gently nipping at my earlobe. “S’fucking tight, doll. You really ain’t been lettin’ other guys fuck ya, huh?” 

“I only want you, Vinny,” I said. “Nobody makes me feel the way you do.” 

“Good girl,” Arvin told me, and my body went warm with the praise. Arvin had always been so good to me and I truly didn’t want anybody else. But I had always imagined getting out of Coal Creek, leaving my family behind and having a good and honest life. I wanted to get married; maybe to Arvin, but maybe to someone with no ties to my family. I was lovestruck, I’ll admit that much. I was so pathetically in love with Arvin that I had doodled his name during class, even going as far to put his last name with mine. Mrs. Y/N Russell was enticing. If Arvin were ever to propose, I would be compelled to say yes. 

“Vinny,” I said, and I grabbed his strong arms. “I-I’m gettin’ close, baby.” 

“You hold that shit in,” Arvin growled into my neck. “Want ya to come on my cock, babydoll.” His fingers fell from me quickly, and he made light work of undoing his belt and jeans. My thighs were quivering around his hips, and I sunk down onto his hard cock with a satisfied keenness in the back of my throat. Arvin’s moan in my ear was heavenly, and he mumbled, “Pussy’s so good, doll. Fuck.” 

“Fuck!” I squealed as he snapped his hips up into me. “Vinny, I-I--” 

Arvin’s mouth met mine in a greedy kiss, and I whimpered my way through a blissful orgasm. Arvin swallowed every single noise I made, his hands raking my blouse up to feel the skin of my back, and I felt myself shaking so hard in his grasp. “Good girl,” Arvin shushed me, kissing all over my face. “So good for me, babydoll. Gonna help me now?” 

Even though my legs felt like liquid and my hips ached, I rolled my hips down onto him. Arvin quickly got rid of my shirt fully and tugged my bra up my chest to expose my tits, my nipples hard at the feeling of him. His mouth latched into my tit quickly, and I pushed his curls off of his forehead as I watched him suck on my tit. Arvin looked up at me through his dark eyelashes and gave my nipple a quick bite with his front teeth, and I yipped. “Vinny!” I cried. 

“Aw, dolly,” Arvin cooed. “I only do it ‘cause I like the pretty little noises you make.” 

I chuckled breathlessly, and, with his lips back on my nipple, Arvin winked at me. “Arv,” I sighed. “Your cock is literally inside me right now. You can knock it off with the flirting.” 

“Can’t help it,” Arvin said, biting his bottom lip as he cupped his hands around my breasts. “Just an instinct.” 

“It’s a good thing I like it,” I whispered, and I leaned down to kiss him. His breath was hot against my mouth, and I clutched his hair as he continued to fuck into me, and I finally pleaded, “Vinny, please come. Want you to come inside me, Arvin, please.” 

Arvin took a fistful of my hair and tugged my head back to expose my neck, and he kissed all over the soft column of my throat as his thrusts became quick and sloppy. “Fuck,” he whispered and sucked a mark onto my neck, but I was too far gone to chastise him for it. Arvin huffed out a heavy breath then, and I felt him spilling himself inside of me, painting my walls with his hot cum. I gasped aloud at the feeling of it, and Arvin set a kiss to my lips to silence me. “Ya like that?” he whispered. “Like being fucked like this? My good girl, my best girl.” 

“Christ, Vin,” I whispered with a giggle. “I love you, you fuckin’ square.” 

“Hey, I’m not a square,” Arvin laughed. His arms were circled around me, holding me tightly, and his cock was still inside me as he laid his head on my chest and tried to catch his breath. “But I love you too, babydoll.” There was a quiet that blanketed the car then, the only sounds being our rasping breaths and the faint radio that we had left on before climbing into the backseat. Arvin was right; it had begun to rain. 

“Think it’ll take?” I asked softly. 

“What?” Arvin asked. His brown eyes were still blown out as he looked at me, and a smile split his face. “Oh, dolly. Is that why you wanted me to come inside ya?” 

I shrugged sheepishly, and I hid myself in his neck. Arvin laughed and readjusted us so that he was laying on his back, making sure to stay inside of me all the while. 

“You wanna have my babies?” Arvin chuckled. “Your daddy’ll kill us.” 

“I jus’ wanna be yours, Arvie,” I told him. “Want everyone to know I’m yours.” 

Arvin pulled my face from his neck and captured my chin between his thumb and forefinger. “No more hidin’?” he asked hopefully. 

I shook my head, and Arvin smiled. “No more hiding,” I agreed. 

Arvin gave a content sigh, and he kissed my mouth once more. “My pretty girl,” he whispered. “My pretty wife, maybe?” I nodded, and he laughed. “Shit, that sounds pretty nice. Having a pretty little wife to come home to, gettin’ all big with my baby… Jesus, I love the thought of that. But you ain’t even graduated yet, doll. Are ya sure…?”

“There’re girls who dropped out ‘cause they got married,” I told him. “I think the fact that I’m engaged and pregnant, and still manage to graduate won’t be a problem.” 

Arvin kissed my forehead, and he whispered, “Just a few more minutes, baby. Wanna make sure, ya know. Then, I’ll get you that milkshake I promised.” 

[our-heroes-rise]

slip of the tongue

pairing: todoroki x bilingual! reader

request:  Hi, I want to request a scenario for Todoroki. It’s about a reader who is actually his gf, but she talks portuguese as maternal language. When she got nervous, she start to panic in Portuguese, and she’s nervous to meet Shoto’s mom. How he will help her( something like that). I hope you like this idea. 🇧🇷🇧🇷✌🏻✌🏻

hero name: @todoroki-vivian

a/n: hi, lovely! omg yes, you can aboslutely have a todoroki request, i adore this boy. and i loved this idea so much! it was so darn cute. as someone of mixed race who grew up with a heavily hispanic family i think it’s always fun to imagine bringing home one of the bnha boys/girls. seeing how they’d react to be introduced to the sort of music, food, and p a r t i e s that i grew up with. i’d be completely useless teaching them any g o o d spanish though cause my mother never taught me when i was a kid :’). i only know a couple of phrases and the bad words lol. i don’t touch on any of that here because i’m not too familiar with portuguese culture and i don’t want to offend anyone by getting something wrong because i am uneducated on the subjectttt. there’s only like two words of real portuguese in here and they are from google translate because i wasn’t sure what the difference was between the spanish pronunciation and the portuguese pronunciation. OKAY after that whole thing i hope you enjoy this little scenario, i had a lot of fun writing it and it was super duper cute. thanks for requesting baby hero!

word count: 1,717

warnings: none! this is all fluff :)

Your knee bounced with the subtle rocking of the train cart, heel occasionally tapping against the floor when the wheels ran over a bump in the tracks. No matter how hard you tried, no amount of slow deep breaths or mental reminders that everything would be fine, it would go well, would calm the ever growing bundle of nerves buzzing within the pit of your stomach. It crawled beneath your skin, flinching at the tips of your fingers which picked at the worn plastic seal of your seat, pinched at your bottom lip.

You watched the blur of winter barren trees whirl past the window, not really watching at all, thinking of every way not to mess up this very important day. This very, very important day on which absolutely nothing could go wrong because this was - it was his -

A comforting warmth pressed into your shoulder, calloused fingers wiggling their way through the gaps between yours, bringing a halt to your incessant fidgeting. Striking blue and grey find your gaze, softened by the unspoken question of concern knotting his brows.

What’s wrong?

“I’m just - It’s dumb, really,” you laugh softly, able to recognize how terribly ridiculous you would sound now that the words sit at the front of your mind. “I’m just overthinking things. I’m okay.” For extra reassurance, you give his hand a small squeeze, offering a smile.

Your boyfriend doesn’t seem to buy it.

“You’re not okay if something’s worrying you,” Todoroki says, head dipping to catch your eyes as you try to look away to hide your apprehension. “It might help if you talk about it.”

Bottom lip caught between your teeth once again, a soft sigh blows through nose, and you lean further into his shoulder, grateful for the gentle heat that bleeds through your jacket sleeve, soothing your nerves. You drop your attention to the spot where your fingers are now intertwined sitting atop his thigh, his thumb tracing over the ridges of your knuckles, saying he’s content to wait for as long as you need.

Well, at least until the arrival of your last stop where you would inevitably have to step off the train and face the anxiety tearing through your head.

It’ll be fine, stop worrying so much. It’ll be fine, it will be fine, it will be -

“What if she doesn’t like me?” You blurt suddenly, cheeks flushing in embarrassment as the eyes of a few curious strangers flicker over to you. Your face sinks further into the protective cocoon of your scarf.

His thumb pauses briefly before picking up its mindless pattern again. “What do you - ?”

“I - I mean, what if I say something wrong and end up sounding really stupid in front of her.” And the dam came crumbling down. “Your mother. The - like - the most important person in your life! I’d end up making a fool of myself in front of the most important person in your life. Then she might think ‘what’s Shoto even see in her? he could do so much better’. Which, you could, by the way. You could do worlds better but you’ve settled for me and sometimes I don’t really get it because - well - I’m me - “

“I don’t see a problem with that. I like you for you and if you are what settling is then I will gladly never settle anywhere else.”

“But what if she - “ your fingers tighten around him at the thought “- what if she doesn’t think I’m good enough for you? What if she thinks we should break up because she thinks I’m rude and annoying and uneducated?”

“Uhm. . . Y/n.”

“What if she thinks I’m a bad influence on you? I don’t want to make her hate me forever, that would be the worst feeling ever because I know she means so much to you.”

“Y/n. . .”

“That would just put so much strain on our relationship and I wouldn’t want you to feel guilty about what happened, ever. You don’t deserve that. You deserve so much better than that, Sho. I just - “

“Meu Amor.”

The name strikes a chord in your throat, catching you breathless, butterflies swooping in to replace the recoiling knot in your stomach. You whip your head around to find the corners of Todoroki’s lips pulling up in a small fond smile, eyes light with amusement. To begin with, Todoroki wasn’t big on pet names, preferring to use your given name, claiming it was sweeter than any silly nickname could be. Though throughout the seven and a half months you two had been together, he had referred to you with the occasional ‘love’ or ‘hon’. However, the number of times he had used that name could be counted on one hand.

Three. It was three times including right now.

He asked you how to say it while you were teaching him random phrases, goofing around in the middle of what was supposed to be a study session, the question being enough to make your face burn. His pronunciation had been rocky the first time, mouth working awkwardly around the words, throwing you into a fit of flustered giggles that had him pouting adorably at you, mumbling not to make fun of him for trying. But, now? Now his near perfect pronunciation left you wondering how many times he had practiced by himself. 

Meu Amor was the Portuguese phrase for My Love. His love. His love. 

“Y-Yeah?” It’s at that very moment that realize you have slipped out of your usual Japanese tongue, rolling through the tumbling hill syllables of your maternal language. “Oh, s-sorry. I. . . I did the thing again,” you mutter, flipping back to Japanese.

Todoroki huffs a short laugh that makes your heart flutter pleasantly as the sound reverberates through your own chest. “It’s okay, I think I got the gist of what you were saying. It’s cute when you do that, anyway.” He says the last part softly, meant for himself. You press your cheeks further into your scarf, hiding your own shy smile.

Todoroki takes a minute to speak, gazing at the same window you were just a moment ago, lost in thought. 

“Y/n,” he finally says. “Meu Amor, -” four times “- frankly, my mother could care less about who you are. I think you could introduce yourself as a high school drop out with a criminal record and her main concern would still be; do we make each other happy? Do you make me happy.”

You allow yourself to absorb the impact of his words.

“And. . . I make you happy?”

He shoots you an incredulous glance, then snorts when he sees you peaking earnestly above the edge of your scarf. “Irrevocably so. Do I make you happy?”

“It’s impossible for me to think about you without smiling.” You give him a bright cheeky grin when his cheeks flare with a noticeable shade of scarlet that crawls all the way up his neck to the tips of his ears.

“Good. Then that’s more than enough.” He squeezes your hand, pulling you closer into his side. “There isn’t a doubt in my mind that she won’t absolutely adore you the same way I do once she meets you. If she doesn’t already, of course.”

The statement piques your curiosity and you arch one brow at him. “What do you mean if she doesn’t already? Have you. . . Told her about me already -- In your letters to her?”

“I thought you already knew that,” Todoroki says, frowning in confusion. “She’s always asking about you and how you’re doing. I was pretty sure I mentioned it before.”

“What the heck? Shoto you’ve never told me that!”

“Oh.”

“So - So then she’s okay with us being together?”

“I think she’s more than okay with it,” he replies, his quiet smile returning. “It’s possible that she’s more excited than I am for you to meet her, which would be saying something.”

“That would have been nice to know before I rambled off the entire Portuguese dictionary to the whole train,” you grumble, rolling your eyes.

“Sorry,” he says, but it sounds like he’s trying to suppress another laugh. And you really can’t stay upset with him for long.

Rough fingertips push gently at the tips of yours to splay your palm out over his, pressing them together. Lightly you run your nails down the long runs of his fingers, memorizing every bump, scratch, and scar, sweeping your forefinger along the wrinkle of his lifeline, then across his heart line. This - the way you were touching him - may not seem like much at all to anyone else, but it was worth worlds to you. It had taken Todoroki months to comfortably hold your hand, even longer while in public, then some to kiss you for the first time. PDA wasn’t what bothered him (not entirely, at least), it was the displays of affection part. Because of the way he grew up, physical affection was a foreign concept, often leaving him lost and a mess of rigid limbs and awkward apologies. But now, he could easily seek your hand in the middle of a crowded train, or wrap his arm around you in the common room, or press a kiss to the top of your head before the start of class. To know that he had made an effort to open himself up to you, allowing you to see this side of him, the side he had only shared with his mother before, made your heart melt and your eyes swim.

Shoto was right, this was more than enough.

A calm voice announces the arrival of your stop and you two stand as passengers begin to climb off the train. 

“Still nervous?” Todoroki asks, threading his fingers through yours once more now that you have both stepped into the morning rush, not wanting to lose you amongst the chaos.

Letting him guide you through the thick crowd, you smile softly, raising your conjoined hands to press your lips to the back of his.

This would always be more than enough.

“No, I think I’ll be okay now.”

[powerosewaterpuff]

so i was having mary and john grayson feels bc i always do ofc, and i decided well if i can’t find any other fics and headcanonns? imma make them myself hehe soo enjoy ! (heads up tho, it’s a l o t hehe)

Mary Grayson

-cannot cook, she is absolutely a w f u l at it but oh my god she loves watching john cook. she even follows him around, writing in a little journal about all the different recipes and steps, bc she is d e t e r m i n d to be able to make something other then cereal

-she always lets dick attempt to braid her hair, and even though it might come out looking bumpy and uneven, she couldn’t care less bc the smile on her sons face is priceless

- loves the summer, basking in the sun on a wide beach is her ideal happy place, because the winter reminds her a little too much of memories she wishes she could suppress

-she always sticks her tongue out just a bit when she’s focused on something, john still blushes when he sees that

-isn’t an avid reader, but she could watch johns facial expressions as he rereads the same twist in his favourite novel for the rest of her life

-she has a small array of ear piercings, which include three piercings on each lobe and upper lobe (the first she had received when she was a baby, and it had been her grandmothers idea), then she has a helix hoop piercing on each ear with a little stud underneath the hoop of the right ear. (Dick loves them, and always had a habit of fiddling with them even as a baby.)

-her laugh could be described as, (as courtesy of john grayson), “the sound of wind chimes billowing against the breeze, and then she starts snortin—Hey! It’s the truth, what do you want me to lie, mary?”

-dick most definitely inherited her eyelashes, long, dark and curled. she also tends to argue that he got her humour too, but john adamantly defends his honour as, “the most hilarious human being to walk the earth, and dick most definitely got my sense of humour, e x c u s e you, mariam.”

-she is infinitely glad that her and john have a very equal parenting system, without one person needing to be the primary disciplinarian as they work as a united front. (except when john and dick come inside the trailer, dragging in mounds of dirt from a flimsy soccer game. then? shes usually the disciplinary one then, shooing them to go take a shower and telling them that they needed to make sure every i n c h of dirt is out of the trailer before she’s done her afternoon stretches.)

-she’s a very bold and opinionated person, but stubbornly independent with a strong moral system and a fierce temper. she isn’t accustomed to asking for help, and is always expecting to be disappointed or let down. she’s always waiting for the catch to come into play, with john though? it never did

-the second dick gives her his puppy dog eyes, it’s over. she’ll give up the cookies she’s hidden in the top shelf, she’ll give him the biggest hug, she’ll practically do anything, and mary thinks john is the exact same.

-her gut instincts are scarily right, to the point where her best friend, the magicians assistant, is convinced she’s a psychic of some sort.

- the day she met john, she had heard about a young circus boy about her age coming to live with his great aunt in her neighborhood, but hadn’t really paid it any mind.

-it wasn’t until one neighbourhood party, that she locked eyes with a pair of vibrant blue eyes with a deeply rooted fire within them. it gave her a shock of adrenaline, and excitement, the same thing she felt when she was about to go on stage as a ballerina or about to face the uneven bars as a gymnast. it wasn’t a nervous bout of a adrenaline, it was a calming rush, one that filled her bones with a thrill beyond all compare. (Little did she know, the second john had locked eyes with a pair of lively green eyes, he had found what he was looking for.)

- mary was a natural born contortionist, with a flexibility she acquired from years of ballet as well as gymnastics. learning how to work the trapeze was a whole other thing though, as it was a little odd to adjust at first. she loved johns freedom and wild nature while soaring through the air though, a lot more then she loved the rigidness of her own form. (john disagreed vehemently, the way mary moved was like she was one with the air and the air was one with her, and he admits that was she an incredibly quick learner.)

-will always watch cartoons with dick, whether it be The Simpsons one evening or Tom & Jeremy the next.

-johns singing is her favourite thing ever, she always begs him to sing her to sleep and some nights, when john feels a deep rooted knot tug at his chest, mary is sweetly singing, “here comes the sun,” by the beatles in his ear

-her and johns go to song to get dick to sleep is, “little bird, little bird,” by elizabeth mitchell. she always changes the last bird, a whip-poor-well, to a robin bird. it’s a little offbeat but she thinks dick likes it. (dick loves it.)

-has an unparalleled amount of energy, and is always bursting with exuberance, the only one who can really challenge her on that is dick. both of them are absolute adrenaline junkies.

-has an insatiable love for period dramas, it is her absolutely guilty pleasure and will be found watching tapes of her favourite show in the living room at like 3am

-she loves the smell of burning wood and loves sitting outside of summer nights, taking in the sounds of the cicadas and the cold breeze.

-she is absolutely exasperated with her sons ability to make friends with injured woodland animals, it was adorable and absolutely darling to an extent, but oh my god if she had to handle one more skunk with a broken leg or a fox with its leg stuck to a wooden post, she would consider barricading the circus.

-(she loves buying matching clothing for her family and her, but what she loves the most is dressing john and dick up to match, she has a whole box filled with those pictures, which would be perfect blackmail material once dick was in his teens.)

John Grayson

-is one of the most laid back human beings, he always has a lazy smile and gentle mischief twinkling in his eyes. (but fuck with his family and see what happens, he dares you.)

-his eyes are practically identical to dicks, in every shape, way and form. but dicks have an unstoppable light in them, that his just don’t have but he’s so happy they do.

-loves to overspray his cologne just to irritate mary, her scrunched up nose his absolutely adorable. (but he still couldn’t get why she didn’t like that cologne, it was fucking amazing)

-curses like an absolute sailor, and mary isn’t any better but she’s far better at censoring herself. john has had to slap a hand around his mouth a few times to avoid having to explain the word, “shit,” to dick.

-christmas is his favourite time of the year without a doubt, and loves to be curled up on his worn couch with a novel in hand in front for a fire.

-is an avid prankster, but if you confront him about it, he’ll give you a trademarked Grayson smile, and tilt his head to the side questioningly.

-his laugh is like (as courtesy of mary grayson), “a crash of waves, refreshing and loud with a distinct clarity, and then he starts to w h e e z—Hey! it’s the truth! I thought you were against lying, huh?”

-he’s ticklish, and his brother along with his wife and son take advantage of that way too much.

-dick is legit attached to this mans hip 24/7, like if you see john strolling around the circus there is a 94% chance that dick is either riding on his shoulders or settled comfortably on his hip.

-the day he met mary, he had felt a little out of place and stilted at this neighbourhood party. but he sucked it in bc anything was better then going back to his home, so he took a shaky breathe and tried to converse with his great aunts friends, until the music started and he locked eyes with a pair of lively green eyes, and he had found exactly what he was a looking for. a fleeting purpose that could so easily slip between his finger tips but the thrill to latch onto it was expanding in his chest. and he realized that if he didn’t march right on over there and talk to this girl, he would’ve lost something he didn’t even knew he could lose.

- playing guitar had always been a little bit of a therapeutic thing, because even though he tried to be practicing their act every single minute of his day, there were times where he needed to sit under a tree with his son curled in his lap, his leather jacket draped on him. the love of his life and the afterlife curled up next to him, with his blistered fingers from dealing with ropes all day strumming the guitar.

-the biggest elvis presley, beatles and rat pack fan in the world. he also loves louis armstrong as well as nat king cole. (he grew up with this music as his first big introduction to north american music as well as culture.)

-open communication and emotions are a big thing for him, he never wants anything to be misinterpreted and he tries his hardest to make sure neither him nor mary ever go to sleep angry with one another. they argue a decent amount, bc they both have wild tempers (johns is a flame that’s difficult to light but once it does he’ll have a vicious tongue of a temper, and mary’s is a quick lighter that can be easily put out but for the time that it burns holy shit she’s scary,) but they always work things out by talking to one another at the dinner table.

-this man lives and breathes sarcasm, to the point where people never really know if he’s being sarcastic or not (mary does, and it annoys him to no end.)

-always playing with his hair, or he’s playing with mary’s or dick’s. it’s become a little of a nervous habit for him, but also a way to relax.

-was always insecure about how short and scrawny he was as a kid, even now once he’s filled into pure muscle and but still a little short compared to others. however, he uses his body to his advtange though, he can easily be the strong man of the act, and can easily balance both dick and mary with one hand. he’s immensely proud of that, and shows it off as much as he can.

-just to annoy mary, he’ll slowly lift his son up and they’ll give the exact same puppy dog eyes and pout. mary will legit do anything they want (he wasn’t ready for mary to come in one day, blinking her beautiful green eyes and pouting, with dick settled on her hip doing the exact same thing as they ask for chocolate pancakes one morning. it’s fair to say he sprinted out of bed and straight to the kitchen.)

-despises hunting for sport and guns, his father owned an array of hunting guns that were always proudly polished and hung on the walls of their trailer. john fucking hated it, and was about to blow a fuse when one of the circus members decided to take dick on a hunting trip without asking. (he held dick close that night as he cried bc he didn’t understand why they had shot the deer when it looked so happy.)

-is the absolutle biggest crybaby when it comes to Heidi (the book) and has rewatched Kiki’s Delivery Service with dick like 30 times? he cries every time ( “mARY SHES SO SAD OH MY GOD AND SHE DOESNT UNDERSTAND J I J I ANYMOREEEE.”) (“sEE GRANDFATHER DOES CARE AND THE SYMBOLISM MARY THE SYMBOLISM.”)

-loves looking up at the stars, and liked to memorize their names as well as patterns as a kid. he was overjoyed to share this with dick, as they lay down on the roof of their circus caravan, point out constellations and tell their stories (dick would always perch himself on the tallest skyscraper in gotham, on a clear summer evening, just to get a one glance at the stars at again before the smog rolls in. he swears he saw cassiopeia once, but maybe he was just wishing he did. )

-is equally stressed by dick’s unprecedented love of making friends with the most random things, is also stressed because his son is this tiny kid who keeps getting himself stuck in bushes then runs home, covered in thorns but still has the biggest smile. john is usually on first aid duty, and he just knows that his kid would run into the sun exploding with a bright smile plastered on his face.

[marveloussupernerd]

No Candy is Sweeter Than You - Saeran Choi

Happy Halloween! I hope you’ve enjoyed my randomly generated Halloween fics (I’ll prob do something similar for Christmas maybe). I just watched a YouTube video and it lowkey scared me ? So here’s some soft Saeran to primarily comfort me

Prompts: passing out candy, Saeran’s pretty excited, his favorite candy is m&ms 😉

Summary: Saeran wants to spend his first time ever celebrating Halloween by passing out candy with you at your house. Just some short fluff !

You were... surprised to say the least when you found out Saeran had never taken part in any Halloween festivities before. There was an RFA party planned, but he really didn’t feel like going, so you wanted to stay with him. Luckily, you lived in a neighborhood with a lot of children, so you invited him to come over and help you pass out candy.

He was all nervous at first. He googled how to pass out candy for Halloween. For some reason there’s a Wikihow article on that. It was practically his Bible.

“Are we wearing costumes?” He asked over the phone, calling you the day of to make sure he has everything planned out.

“We can. Why? Did WikiHow tell you to?” You teased. He laughed awkwardly. It did. “Okay. You have any idea what you want to wear?”

“Well they said to do something like a ghost that everyone will recognize,” he explained.

“But that’s so boring.”

He chuckled. “Okay. That’s fair. I wouldn’t know.”

“Halloween is a night you can be whatever you want!” You exclaimed. “Don’t you have anything in particular you’d like to be?”

“Could we... maybe do a couples’ costume?” He asked awkwardly. He sounded nervous over the line, his voice soft and somewhat hesitant.

“Of course! That’s a great idea.” You tried to make sure he could hear your smile even over the phone, hoping it would comfort him. It really was a good idea.

“Well... I was thinking... you know Hades and Persephone right?”

“Like the Greek mythology people?”

“Yeah... I thought it’d be kinda cool to dress like them. Uh, we don’t have to if you don’t want to though!” His words rushed together. “I just wanted to throw out a suggestion and-“

“Saeran that would be perfect. Greek God costumes are always popular too,” you reassured him. “Do you have what you need for it or do you wanna go shopping?”

“I have to run out and get a few things anyway! No problem. I can go get the candy too if you want.”

This sweet boy. “I can go with you,” you offered. You always liked spending time with him, even if it was just running errands together.

“Nope!” He denied you immediately, his voice surprisingly lighthearted for such a shut-down. “You stay home and get dressed up and relax. I’ll be over as soon as I have everything.”

“You sure you’ve got this? I’m more than happy to help.”

“I’m positive! I’m really excited and want to make it perfect.” You heard him laugh over the line, his laughter music to your ears. “See you soon. Love you.”

“Love you. Can’t wait to see you all dressed up.”

He hung up the call first, obviously in a rush to get everything together for the evening. You went to your closet and began tearing it apart for that Greek goddess dress you had worn how many years ago? Hopefully it still fit. (AN: if you never had a Greek goddess costume I’m sorry but ur in the minority)

You got to work doing your hair and makeup. You wanted to look absolutely perfect for Saeran, to make this day so special for him.

It was almost time for trick-or-treating to start. Luckily, you heard a knock on the door. Saeran was right on time. You opened the door. He was wearing all-black, spare a burgundy cape attached to his costume. He had an extravagant looking cane. His intimidating outfit, however, was offset by the bright smile on his face and the dozens of flowers peeking out from the top of a bag. “Saeran! You look so handsome Baby,” you complimented.

He blushed. “I got these for you.” He held out the flowers and you took them happily. “Can’t be the Goddess of Spring without a billion flowers. I picked them all myself,” he added proudly. You loved when he had his little ‘Ray’ moments, dabbling in his passion of gardening.

You took the flowers from him and got to work finding something to put them in. You didn’t have vases or anything in the house. You settled with a tall water bottle for now. He entered the house, setting the bag down on the counter. “I’ve got all kinds of good candy.”

You pulled out the bags, pouring the candy into a large bowl and took note of what he had decided to buy. “Reese’s, Kit Kat’s, M&Ms, Skittles... you even got fun sized bags of sour patch kids!? I’m impressed.”

“See, that WikiHow article isn’t all that bad,” he defended, a small smile playing on his lips as he realized how ridiculous he sounded.

“Do you not have a favorite?”

“Favorite candy?” He questioned, eyes glancing over the types in front of him. “Not really. I was never allowed to have it.” He shrugged it off, as though it wasn’t a big deal, but you were shocked.

“Okay! Well throughout the night we’ll try all the different candies and pick your favorite.” You decided, nodding your head. He nodded his head in agreement.

“Oh! I almost forgot.” He rummaged in the seemingly endless bag. “I made this for you too.” He pulled out a flower crown. It was really pretty. You bowed your head slightly and he put it on for you.

“It’s perfect. Completes the costume. You did this all today?”

“All today. I hope you like it.”

“Oh Saeran, I love it.” You cupped his cheek with your hand and pulled him close for a kiss. Just before your lips could touch, you heard the doorbell ring.

Saeran broke away, far too excited to be disappointed in the interruption. “Our first trick-or-treater!”

You giggled, grabbing the bowl and following after him. It was a little boy dressed as Mickey Mouse. “What do you say?” His mother asked him.

“Trick or treat!” He squealed. You giggled. Saeran took a handful of candy from the bowl and dropped it into his bag.

“I love your costume, Mickey. You look great!” He exclaimed. He was SO CUTE. After he left, it was time for Saeran to try his first candy of the night. He shut his eyes and pulled out a pack of sour patch kids. He popped an orange one into his mouth.

“They’re fine. I like how they’re really sour at first. The sweet part’s just okay though,” he commented. It was like a food critic giving his review. It made you laugh again. The doorbell rang. He set the candy aside and opened it up.

“Oh my! Snow White! Aren’t you so beautiful!” You exclaimed, fawning over the girl dressed as a princes. You gave her her candy.

“I’ve got something special for you too Princess!” Saeran exclaimed. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a flower. “For you, Princess. Thank you for visiting us tonight.”

The mom was fawning over how sweet the act was. The girl was just excited to get candy AND a flower. She left very happy.

Next was a Reese’s cup. The second he bit into it his face formed an O. “I really don’t like it that much,” he confessed, mouth still stuffed with the candy. “It tastes like a peanut butter cracker mostly. If I wanted that I’d just eat a peanut butter cracker.”

“I’m surprised to hear it. Most people love Reese’s,” you exclaimed. He shrugged it off.

“Have you ever thought about having kids one day?” You blurted out, the words leaving your mouth before you could process what you were going to say.

He paused. “I mean... I’m not sure. After everything... I don’t feel like I’d be a good parent.”

You frowned at hearing his thoughts. “I think you were amazing with that little girl. I bet a kid would be lucky to have you as a dad.”

“Maybe with you I’d want kids one day,” he spoke, thinking aloud. When he realized what he said, he smacked a hand over his mouth, cheeks and ears turning bright red.

You giggled. “Me too Sae. Me too.”

He opened the next candy, M&Ms. “Which color should I try?” He asked, cheeks still dusted pink from the previous conversation.

“They all taste the same, so any.”

He nodded, then grabbed a blue one. You could hear him crunch through the shell. “Wait. I really like this.” He reached in to grab a green one, trying it as well. “Babe you need to try these. They’re SO good!” He poured a few into your hand.

You couldn’t hold back your laugh. “I’ve had them before, but thank you for sharing.” You tossed a few into your mouth. “New favorite?”

“I don’t even need to try the others. This is the one.”

The rest of the night flew by with plenty of trick-or-treaters. Saeran’s favorite of the night was the girl in the Snow White costume. Yours was the blow-up t-rex. The trick-or-treaters did NOT get many M&Ms. About halfway through the night Saeran had already consumed all of them. 

Finally, it was time to turn off the porch light and settle in for the night. “Did you have fun?” You asked, pouring the extra candy into a ziplock bag so that you could have some later.

“I see why you like this holiday so much. I think it’s actually my new favorite.”

You grinned at him, proud that you were able to make the night go so smoothly. “Are you staying the night or are you heading home?” You asked, moving the chairs by the door back to the dining room table. Saeran helped carry his.

“Can I stay? I’ve still got one more sweet I wanna try.” He had a glint in his eye but his smile was so innocent. Maybe you were reading him wrong.

“Kit-kats? They’re pretty basic but honestly I-“

He let out an exaggerated sigh. “Nooooo! I mean you.” He walked towards you, one hand resting around your waist, the other taking off your flower crown and setting it on the table. “I never got that kiss form earlier.” He pouted.

“I’m not a sweet,” you giggled, hand moving to rest on top of his own. “I’m just me.”

He leaned his forehead to rest against yours, noses brushing against each other. “My Love, you know that no candy is sweeter than you. At least not to me.”

You couldn’t wait any longer and pulled him in for that long-awaited kiss.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #297

“crushed, damned, and broken; lost, sick, and left unspoken.”

When was the last time you did clay work/pottery? Not since high school when I made an anatomically correct heart. Do you like art, hate it or just not mind it? I adore it. Is crime a big problem in your area? Oh yes. What's the scariest story/urban legend/creepypasta etc you heard? Maaaan, as a cryptic fanatic, that's hard. Maybe the Rake. What personality trait does nearly everyone in your family seem to have? We're some resilient motherfuckers. What is your favorite soda? Well, it's technically strawberry Sunkist, but I do NOT let myself have it because I will fucking chug it and binge on them if available to me. So, I just consider Mountain Dew Voltage my fave. When you're on the beach, do you throw beached sea creatures back? I've never even seen a beached animal. I would, though. Have you ever thrown food at someone? Yeah, small food fights as a kid or joking with a friend. Have you ever been to a bonfire? Yeah. Do you like orangutans? I love them; such fascinating, enchanting animals that act more human than people half the time. When you see a bug flipped on his back, what do you do? It depends on what it is, but I usually try to help it. Is cereal good? Yeah, I love cereal. Do you like spaghetti? Love it. It was my favorite food as a kid. Is there any kind of weapon in your bedroom? No. Do you like snow globes? I love 'em! Be honest, did Fifty Shades of Grey arouse you in any way? I didn't read it and never will. What does your sibling(s) call you? "Britt" or "(little/big) sister." Do you have any close friends that are the opposite sex that your significant other dislikes? N/A Do you honestly believe everything happens for a reason? Why or why not? Nope, because I want you to explain to me why a child dies of cancer. Why the 11-year-old was raped and forced to bear the child. Why a partner is beaten to death by their s/o, etc. etc. Things just... happen. Do you believe in reincarnation? Why or why not? No, mostly; I DO kinda wonder about it, I just find it unlikely. It would be kinda poetic, though: being given the chance to experience so many unique things. But, I kinda want a conclusion to my mortal life. The Hunger Games or The Maze Runner? I read the first HG and loved it; I started the latter novel while I was in the psych hospital for a while, but I never finished it or got that far in. It did sound pretty good, though. Has anyone you’ve known claimed to be psychic? Well, they believe(d) in tarot readings; does that count? Idk. Did/do you believe them? I wouldn't. Is anything annoying you right now? "Annoyed" is a fucking understatement when it comes to what transpired at the capitol a few days back. Have you ever been ice-skating? No. Does the sound of rain at night help you sleep? It can, depending on how heavy it is. Have you ever seen an albino person, in person? Albino, no, but I knew a guy and his sister in high school who had vitiligo. Have you ever worn a pair of scrubs? Yeah, at the ER and hospital. Have you ever walked into a massive cobweb? I don't believe so. What would you say is your strongest felt emotion right now? Rage. I'm not over "the event." I'm just tired of humanity. Are you talking to anyone at the moment? No. Do you have trust issues? Oh yes. Have you ever found an arrow head? No. Who is with you? My mom's home. What can you not stop thinking about? *points upwards* Then there's Jason because PTSD, that's very normal. Do you forgive easily? I forgive very easily, honestly. In what part of your life so far, have you learned the most about yourself? 2017, when recovery began. I think... or maybe 2018, idk. I've truly come to discover myself quite a lot the past few years. Have you ever been in a fist fight? No. Are your ears pierced? Yeah: my earlobes twice, and then my right tragus has a stud. I want to get my others back... I had to take them all out in the psych hospital, and a lot of my piercings closed up. The only one I don't wanna re-do is my anti-tragus, because mine was *always* inflammed and aggravated. What did you last say out loud? "Okay" to Mom. What are you waiting on? Right now, an opportunity to go to the parlor I'm getting my tat tidied up at to get a price range on it. They just need to be open while we're out of the house. Do you tell people when they get on your nerves? Not really. Are your feelings hurt easily? Yep. What's the most expensive piece of clothing you have? Did you buy it yourself? I dunno... I very rarely get new clothes, nevermind expensive ones. Who is your closest platonic friend of the opposite sex? His nickname is Girt. He's been my best male friend since high school; we even hang out sometimes, but it's been a long while. How do you think your first relationship shaped who you are as a partner now? As a partner, it taught me to not fall head over heels and love more realistically and in a healthy fashion. I don't put my faith solely into them, but myself, too. I also accept "forever" is not always true just because they promise it. Who is your favorite protagonist of the same sex? Oh god, this is hard. I suppose maybe Tyrande Whisperwind from WoW. I love her dedication to her people and that her story has become more interesting in her finally "breaking." I could list so, so many "faves," tbh. Were you popular in high school? What was your reputation like? No; I was just the average teen. Have you always known your sexual orientation or did something happen to make you realize it? Somethings happened. There were a lot of hints building up before I even began to consider the possibility, but a daydream solidified it as fact. What was the hardest part of your last break up? Realizing I still wasn't "ready" or "fit" for a successful relationship. What brought you out of the hardest period in your life? As strange as it sounds, my suicide attempt put it into action. I was obviously hospitalized for a while, and then I was brought into a month-long partial hospitalization program that has a fucking genius psychiatrist, and I also had daily therapy as long as school days during the week. It was the intense help I needed. What's your favorite kind of smiley face? (: Does anybody know your deepest darkest secret? My old therapist and maybe my mom; I can't remember if I told her. Did you ever watch Rugrats? (the babies) I LOVED that show! I even had two of the video games. What about Hey Arnold? Ugh, I hated it, but I think my little sister did, or we just watched it if we couldn't find anything else. Do you like pep rallies? NO. NO. NO. My teachers always understood that they really stoked my anxiety and allowed me to opt out of going. I'd just stay in the classroom and read or something. Have you ever had pneumonia? No. What do you feel about surgeries? Do they worry you? I fear anesthesia awareness, but not to a debilitating degree or anything that makes me panic beforehand or anything like that. Do you play Minecraft? if so, feelings about servers? Never have, and not interested. Do you read creepypastas? Nah. Do you think vlogging in public is scary? It seems awkward as FUCK to me. Even alone. Have you been to an escape room? Was it a success? No. What social class would you say you're in? I think we're actually near the poverty line (or were, idk anymore, Mom slipped it before), so definitely lower. Have you ever recorded a cover of a song? No. How do you feel about guns? They scare me. What's the most traumatizing event that ever happened to you? A very abrupt and poorly-executed breakup while being madly in love to the point of obsession with the person. Are you faint to the sight of blood? No. Do you like spicy food? Yes. Do you have good dreams or nightmares more? Well, considering I was woken up by myself shrieking my lungs out this morning, guess. It seemed for a little bit that my nightmares were chilling out, but I guess not. When was the last time someone insulted you? What was the insult? Does my mother telling me I'm saying too many "f-bombs" count? I dunno otherwise. What’s your second favorite color? Maroon. Do you ever wish you lived in a different country? Hey Canada, mind adopting me? Who’s the last person you “pounded” fists with? Ha, I think my nephew. Have you ever been involved in an affair? No. Wait, maybe? Does the Joel thing count? We never even physically met each other, we were just being idiot kids flirting over text messages. You be the judge, ig. How many times a week do you speak to your boss? I don’t have a job. What do you want for your birthday? Just donate to my tattoo fund lmao. Having to get my laptop fixed fucked up my plans yet again... Have you ever been to a masquerade? No. Is there anybody you think is hot over the age of 40? A handful, yeah. Who in your phone has a heart after their name? Just Sara does. Anything you’re avoiding? Always. After breaking up, what’s the worst? Letting go if you're the one who still has feelings. Does your sibling have a significant other? I don't know if my brother does, or the half-sister I've never met. Another sister is engaged, and two are married. Nicole is single, though. She's smart as hell about who she dates; she's probably pickier than me. Do you use Skype? Just to talk with Sara. Are you a fan of acrylic nails? I wouldn't wear them, but they look fine on some people. Except when they're square shaped. Name one happy song that describes you better than any other. "Get Up" by Mother Mother comes to me first. Name one sad/mellow song that describes you better than any other. Haha I connect with a lot of sad songs and would honestly rather not dig through 'em right now. What is your most used pick up line? None, they're all awful. Do you like the taste of alcohol? Noooooo no no. The only alcoholic drinks I like are very weak and sweet. What kinds of food make you sick? So this probably sounds so stupid, but "fancy" foods, like stuff with a lot of ingredients my body isn't used to, I guess. My stomach is very finicky with foods, so it's easy to make this list.

[ajokeformur-ray]

Self Shipping Ask Game

I’m feeling self-indulgent as all hell so I did another one, with Patrick Verona this time!! 💙 I’m starting to lose track of my F/Os...

Tagging @jokershyena​ so she can see!

Word count: 2, 253 (lmao woops?)

Date you got together? April 24th 2020. We are... a very new couple and we’re still finding our way with what we have together. It feels like stepping into shoes you’ve worn a thousand times before, but the soles are different; there’s new marks left behind and we’re finding out what they mean slowly but surely. We have lots of love between us and we’re letting it guide us.

Favorite personality trait? I love Pat for all that he is, but if I have to pick just one thing then it’s his nature. He feels like... you know when you lay down outside on the grass or the beach and there’s a gentle breeze in your hair and the sun is warm on your face and your eyes are shut and you feel yourself smiling because this is why you’re alive, for moments like this? That’s how Pat feels to me, all the time. 

Favorite physical trait? His smile. I almost said his eyes but, oh... that smile makes flowers bloom in my heart. I would die to keep that smile on his face. He’s so beautiful and those dimples and his eyes, I... he’s so beautiful. 🥺 

Couple song We don’t have one yet. I’m still looking for the perfect one. I often listen to I want you to want me from the soundtrack when I want to feel him close by, just because it makes me think of him, so maybe that one? 

Pet peeves... He likes to leave his switchblade open and lying in random places and it freaks me out. I don’t even like kitchen knives near me and there he is, leaving it stabbed into the coffee table pinning a note for me to the surface. Sure, it’s convenient to just grab his knife out of his pocket and it’s a good way to get my attention, the silver glinting of the blade in the light of the room, but still.

Favorite outfit on them? As much as I adore those leather trousers, it has to be the dark grey shirt with the chain poking out... just him putting it on in the morning and the cold metal against his skin contrasted with the heat on my tongue... *ahem*

Favorite meal? Pat and I eat separately; I have coeliacs disease and Pat’s lucky enough to not have any food allergies so I always make us separate meals. I make his first, scrub down the kitchen and then I do my own food. Pat likes the tuna pasta bake I make; the golden crust of cheese on the top is his favourite and I always give him the corner bits; he likes the cronch. He always says I can just make one meal which is gluten free but I don’t feel right doing that to someone who doesn’t share my dietary requirements.

Early bird or night owl? Pat’s definitely a night owl, so long late night conversations where the two of us lay down in bed together are very common. I stay up every night for him to come home from the pub and then he showers (no dirty sweaty bodies in my bed, thank you) and we cuddle up in bed and just... talk. Sometimes we just lay there listening to music. Neither of us especially like mornings and it’s not unusual to wake up at noon or afterwards 😂

Snorer or sleep talker? Pat snores very lightly most of the time but when he’s deeply, deeply asleep, he sounds like a chainsaw lmao. I like that, though, because even though it makes the bed shake a bit, I know that he’s there with me and it eases my fears of the dark. I have my nightlights but I don’t need music because I know he’s there for me and he’ll keep me safe. Sometimes he’ll mutter unintelligibly as he rolls over and it’s always right in my ear and I have to try not to jump 😂

Do you have any pets together? Not yet! 💕 I wanna get some cats with him in the future; they’re such precious creatures. Pat wants a dog but between him and a dog I’d never get any free or alone time 😂 and I’m protective of both of those things.

Pet names! (Both from them and yours for them) I call him Pat mostly, but other times it’s “sunshine”, “baby boy” for when he needs comforting, “angel”, “darling”, “love” and he knows I’m angry/mad if I call him Patrick ksksksk it gets his attention so quickly. 

Pat calls me “sweetheart”, “angel”, “love” (saved for when he’s being sarcastic, it’s like a hint I need to Do Something Soon) “honey”, “girlie” and by my name when he thinks he has to.

How often do you fight? Not... very often. We have playful banter more than anything. We do fight, that’s normal and healthy, but we try to talk things out calmly rather than go at it and risk saying something we can’t take back. Words have greater power than people know, and where the sword cuts and forgets does the tree fall and remember.

What starts fights? For me, Pat gets angry at my blatant lack of self-care and it angers him to see me treat myself as I do (or don’t, more accurately) but to shower others in love. He doesn’t understand why and it frustrates him. I struggle to explain myself properly so then I get frustrated and it can lead into a whole thing lmao the tears start when he raises his voice so he usually calms down pretty quickly. And as I said, we prefer to speak it through calmly so we’ll go calm down separately and meet in the middle later on. He knows he’s forgiven when I throw myself at him and smother him in kisses.

For Pat, I don’t get angry very often or very easily but when I do, it’s because he was out for so long that I started thinking he’d died or was injured or something and he didn’t text me to let me know and though I don’t want to control him I also don’t enjoy staying up worrying he’s dying in an alley somewhere. So when he gets home I’m a bit... colder in how I greet him and then Pat gets defensive and eesh 😬 In the end, he’ll sigh and I’ll apologise and he’ll get irritated and we cuddle and talk it out. I’ll know I’m forgiven when he kisses my forehead.

Who apologizes first? Me. I will always apologise first, even if I was right. I cannot handle any kind of conflict or confrontation and due to things which have occured in the past I will always just... take it. I’ll just apologise, and get it over with, and hope it all smooths over quickly. Pat gently tells me off when I do this, “No, Erika. I’m the one apologising, not you.” and I usually get upset so we have some cuddle therapy - our touches speak louder and more concisely than we ever could. 

Big spoon or little spoon? asdfghjkl; we switch depending on who needs or wants what! Whomever needs comforting, the other is the big spoon and on the times we both need comforting or we just can’t decide who is either spoon, we lay facing each other so that we’re both the little and the big spoon at the same time! Problem solved! <3 

Dom or sub? Pat’s a switch; it depends on what either of us needs the most in any given moment. For the most part he’s dominant; I can be really shy sometimes and I have no idea what I’m doing with anything, so he tends to take the lead... before we realise that we’d rather walk into undiscovered territory together, hand in hand the way it should be.

What are their kisses like? They’re somehow comforting but intense. He kisses me so tenderly it can make me cry but it’s so passionate that it leaves me breathless. He commands my lips against his and he both takes and gives in equal measure. Pat is a passionate, compassionate soul and it comes through every time he kisses me; like he, too, is coming home.  He never kisses just once - just one sentence can hold a multitude of kisses. And the ghost of his lips against my skin lingers for hours after he’s gone home. He’s always with me, in one or another.

What do they smell like? Apples, leather, whiskey, stale cigarette smoke... and something spicy but so Patrick. If I concentrate, I can find it when I nuzzle into his neck.

What are their hugs like? Coming home. He always hugs me so tightly that I can feel those lost parts of me click back into place. I’m a known squeezer and he playfully grunts in my ear and it makes me smile and he squeezes back and it makes me giggle. Pat sighs happily and drops his head down into the crook of my neck and he rocks me from side to side... I’ve been known to fall asleep standing up in the safety of his embrace. He’s my home, nothing and no one make me feel as safe as he does. 

Who is more protective? I think we’re both as protective as each other. I have a mean streak when my loved ones are threatened or in any kind of danger and I’m not afraid to stand up for Pat against rumours, even if he’s not with me at the time. I hate confrontation but for my loved ones, I’d walk straight through fire if I had to. Similarly, Pat gets easily defensive and seems to have a bit of a temper as well so if anything happened to me, he’d get protective. I also... feel like we protect each other from our own selves, sometimes. I have some Bad Habits and so does Pat and neither of us are afraid to tell the other when we’re hurting ourselves and need to stop... like right now, it’s way past midnight and I’m yawning every few minutes but I’m pushing through to write this. Pat’s frowning and wanting to take my laptop away.

Interested in children? Pat might be... when he’s older. But he knows my stance on this topic and we never talk about it. 

Who needs the most TLC when sick? Pat. OMG he tries to work through it, to walk it off, but I can see. I do the same thing, I always pretend I’m not sick until it’s so obvious that I just can’t hide it. Pat’s a natural caregiver, he’s so used to taking care of others and that’s exactly why I deliberately go overboard when I take care of him. I buy every kind of medicine specific to his illness (and I dip into my savings but shush, don’t tell!), and I make him soup and I’m there for him and I make it known that I love him. I’m usually squeamish with sickness, even when it’s my own, but for Pat I push through and I try because he deserves nothing less than the best of everything I can give him.

Who says ‘I love you’ first? Mmm.... I think Pat said it first. He has more confidence in what we share together than I do and one day when I came through with his favourite meal and I had my own one, I sat down and he said, “I love you, d’you know that?” I just blinked at him a few times in shock and he said it again... and again... and again until I just had to put my food down so that I could grab that beautiful face and swallow his next words; he is... ethereal and I’ll never understand why he loves me but I’m so, so glad that he does! I said it back, of course I did, and his smile was brighter than the sun.

Which of you is more accident prone? Meeeee ~ omg lmao I always have bruises I don’t even remember getting. Pat gets frowny because I sit there poking them hoping the slight pain will trigger a memory of how I got the bruise, but I rarely remember. I’m forever bouncing off door frames, walking into tables, tripping over my own feet while I’m stood still... Pat finds it funny and sometimes when I actually trip he’ll say something like, “I know you fell for me, but, ah - did you have to show me, too?” or “How’s the world from down there?” and once... once, he laughed and laid down next to me on the floor and we just stared up at the ceiling and we just... were for a time. It’s a memory I cherish.

Bed hog? OMG me, hands down. Pat tends to lay on his back and I put my head on his chest so that I can listen to his heartbeat or I nuzzle into the crook of his neck, but it’s not unusual for me to wake up with my duvet on the floor and the sheets all over the place. I’ve been known to actually kick in my sleep and sometimes I wake up with bruises I don’t recall getting. Pat wraps himself around me like a koala when I move around too much because a) shitty mattress and b) I drink 18 coffees a day and in this way, I’m able to fall asleep quicker and in a more relaxed way. If I fall asleep relaxed, I move around far less when I’m asleep. I don’t know how Pat figured that out and he won’t tell me, either.

Who loves the other the most? We’re a very new couple and we’re finding our way with each other and our relationship, but I do think that I love Pat a little bit more than he loves me. But that’s okay; statistically, one is always loved a bit more than the other. I have trouble believing we’re even compatible because ??? look at him ??? and then look at me ??? and it drives Pat insane.

[ocean-of-ideas]

Close your eyes.

Slow your breathing.

Focus on your intent.

Focus on him.

Esmeralda listed off her instructions in her head as her hands hovered over a worn copy of a book in a language she didn’t understand. A small, flickering light came from her palms, burning brighter with each passing second. The book on the table mirrored her light as if on fire but remained un-charred as tears pricked the corners of her eyes. Casting her magic into the object she spoke aloud:

“Allow this message to find its way to the proper recipient,

Make my every thought and emotion be felt, heard and seen by the receiver.

Into this object I weave my memories of times in which happiness overflowed,

Into this object I place my love in a visual sense.

May this object stand the test of time and show no further signs of wear.

May this object never be lost or destroyed.

And, as I will it, so mote it be!”

Her final words hung in the air as the light left her own hands and surrounded the book. Images began to appear in a wispy haze like a slide show, a slide show of her favorite moments with Satan. A gentle smile found its way to her lips as she watched, from playing with cats and peaceful reading sessions to love letters and nights spent under a starry sky. The tears that threatened to fall earlier did so freely now. The emotions radiating from their memories, now woven into a very special book, hit her like a crashing wave.

Being an empath, Ezzy had the ability to feel the emotions of others. It made relationships, whether platonic or romantic, quite daunting. She could feel the little shifts in conversation or moods, sense a person’s true intentions, and feel their strongest emotions as if they were her own. In the beginning, this ability was her own personal hell. Now, though, she welcomed it and the control it gave her over her own emotions. She used it as a tool to strengthen her relationships instead of controlling them. Her late teacher, Madame Fleur, was to thank for that.

Shifting her focus to the surrounding lit candles and burning incense she made sure nothing flammable was too close before stepping back to admire her work.

“There we go,” the witch sighed. “Now, these babies here have to burn down all the way and it’s done! Wow, this is nerve wracking.”

A yawn escaped her lips as she moved to her couch and unceremoniously flopped onto it. 

“Poor Cyn, he’s gonna be feelin’ this one,” she looked to the photos of her and Cyn on the shelf and smiled. A warm feeling spreading through her at the thought of her best friend and other half of a timeless pact. A pact that tied the two of them together for all eternity, which both welcomed eagerly. “I hope he listened and took some extra coffee this morning.”

Just as the young witch was about to doze off, a knock on her door startled her awake. With an exhausted groan Ezzy hefted herself off the sofa to answer whoever stood on the other side. To her surprise, she was greeted with the blonde hair and bright green eyes of the object of her affections.

“Say!” She squeaked out his nickname, a warm smile spreading across his face.

“Hello, Ezzy,” he nodded in greeting. 

“What are you doing here? I thought you had a Council meeting today!”

“I did, but my presence was no longer needed so I came to see you,” a hand came up the brush a strand of jade colored hair behind her ear. “My time is much better spent with you, anyway.”

Ezzy could feel the heat filling her face at his words. “O-oh, well, that’s very sweet of you. I’m not sure today is a good day for me,” her words warped into another yawn that she directed into her elbow. 

Satan’s face scrunched up in concern. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine! No need to worry about me,” she tried to laugh it off but he wasn’t buying it at all.

“I’ll always worry about you, Ezzy. Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing’s wrong. Promise! It’s just, I uh, I haven’t had time to clean yet! I spent the morning baking again and I have a mountain of dishes to do along with a weeks’ worth of laundry to do,” she inwardly cursed her nervous ramblings as his frown only deepened.

“I’d be happy to help out, you know. You look drained as it is, let me help.”

“No, it’s okay. I swear!”

“Ezzy,” he sighed. “I know something’s up.”

“I know, I just- “she was cut off by the sound of laughter playing from the memories inside the book.

“Who’s that?” Ezzy could practically see Satan bristling as he tried to peer around the door. “Do you have someone over?”

“N-no! It’s no one just, uhm, one of my familiars.” His raised brow indicated he, once again, wasn’t buying her bullshit. “Okay, that was a lie. I’m sorry.”

“What’s going on, Esmeralda?” The use of her full name, especially from him, made her stomach drop. She hated the cold tone in which he used it, a stark contrast to the warmth he greeted her with.

“Nothing is going on, I swear,” she locked her eyes with his and spoke with finality. “I’m working on a very complicated spell; it’s taking up all of my concentration and energy right now.”

“You’ve never had a problem working around me before,” he crossed his arms over his chest. “Why now? What don’t you want me seeing?”

“I just can’t tell you right now, okay? Trust me, nothing is going on. I’m not doing anything dangerous or risky in any way, I promise. You know I’d never do anything to deliberately put myself in harm’s way. So, please,” she held his gaze, something most people couldn’t do without fear. “Trust me.”

Satan seemed to be thinking things over. She could tell he didn’t feel right with the situation, which she understood, but he also didn’t want to overstep her boundaries and upset her. He put his hand to his chin and closed his eyes. 

“You’re not going to budge on this, are you?” Ezzy shook her head, jade green waves swaying with the motion. He let out a little laugh, “Stubborn as always, I see. Alright, I’ll trust you. But,” he placed his hand on her cheek and pressed a light peck to her forehead. “At the first sign of trouble, you call me. Okay?”

The heat returned to Ezzy’s face at the loving gesture and she nodded. “O-okay, I promise.”

Satisfied with their conclusion, Satan said his goodbyes and turned to walk home. Ezzy closed the door once he was a reasonable distance away and slid down to the floor with a heavy sigh. “Why’s he gotta be so sharp?” she grumbled, eyes slipping closed as exhaustion threatened to take her.

She allowed herself a few moments rest before heaving herself off the floor and back onto the couch. There was no way she’d be able to get anything done with this spell still going, but, if she fell asleep, she ran the risk of setting the house on fire if she left the candles to burn unsupervised.

Ezzy took a deep breath and shouted, “Smeowg!” and the little cat came running through the pet door. The bell on his collar tinkling pleasantly as he hopped onto the sofa next to her. He meowed at her as if in response to her call. “Do me a favor, babe? I’m gonna pass the hell out, can you be sure to wake me if the candles get a little to rowdy?”

Smeowg chirped his answer and rubbed his little head against her face. “There’s a good boy,” Ezzy’s words began to slur slightly as she fell into a deep sleep. “You’re gonna get so many treatssss….”

She must have been out for a good few hours because, when she woke up, her best friend was standing over her with a shit-eating grin. She awoke with a yelp and instinctively punched him in the chest.

“Don’t scare me like that, you ass!”

Cyn only laughed, holding his hands up in surrender. “Sorry, babes, couldn’t resist,” he laughed. “I see you’ve been busy today.”

Ezzy looked at the now finished book and got up to retrieve it. “Yeah, sorry about the energy drain. I know you felt it.”

“No worries, dear. Just gave me an excuse to have a nap through Lucifer’s boring meeting,” the fondness in the demon’s eyes betrayed the mischievous smile he wore. “Is it done?”

“Yep, it’s all done,” her heart raced as she looked at the book. Her heart wrapped up in these pages. “When should I give it to him?”

“Well, we had a deal that you would confess if I did. I’d say as soon as possible,” Cyn shrugged and flopped onto the couch. Smeowg happily jumped onto his owner for pets. “We all know he has feelings for you, so just give it to him right now. He should be home, anyway.”

Ezzy chewed on her lip as she thought, ignoring Cyn scolding her for the nervous habit. She was beyond excited to share her creation, there was no doubt about that. But she was also terrified. Sometimes, the space between her emotions and those of the people she’s close to is a bit gray. She knew her own feelings for Satan, but was she projecting that onto him?

“Ezzy,” Cyn broke her out of her thoughts. “If you don’t get your ass moving and quit biting your lip, I’ll throw the book at him myself. Now, go girl! I’ll hold down the fort here, won’t I Mr. Smeowg? Yes, I will! Aw, you’re such a baby!”

While Cyn fell further and further into his cooing, Ezzy gathered her things and made the journey to deliver the very special gift. 

As usual, no demons dared bother her as she walked. Most of them knew who she was by now, who she had made a pact with, and those who didn’t could feel something off about her. It helped, as well, that she had a rather large Hellhound trailing after her.

When she stood at the front door her stomach did flips again. She turned to look back at her canine friend, his lopsided, doggy grin giving her a small boost of courage. It was Beel who answered the door when she knocked, food in his hand as usual.

“Oh, Ezzy, what’re you doin’ here?” His words were muffled with whatever he was eating but the little tilt of his head was adorable.

Ezzy laughed. “Hello, Beel! I’m here to see Satan. Is he home?”

“Yeah,” Beel swallowed his mouthful and moved to let her in. “He should be in his room, reading. You know the way?”

“Yep! Thanks, Beel!” She gave him a wave before quickly making her way up the stairs and down the fancy halls of the House of Lamentation. The sheer elegance of the home astounded her every time she visited. It was like being in a museum with all the art on the walls, the fancy carpeting, vases on equally as regal hall tables. It made her kind of nervous and hyper aware of all her limbs.

When she reached Satan’s door, she paused for just a moment level her breathing before knocking lightly. It took maybe a minute before he answered the door, the look of irritation at being interrupted melting away into a smile.

“Ezzy,” he instantly moved to the side and ushered her into his room. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Hi again,” Ezzy stood among the piles of books and nervously shifted her feet. “I, uhm, I wanna apologize for earlier. It was rude to shoo you off earlier so, I’m sorry.”

He chuckled and led her to sit next to him on his bed. “You don’t need to apologize, dear. You said you were working on something important; I understand your need for absolute concentration.”

“Thank you,” she said, relieved. “There’s another reason I’m here, though.”

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“I have a gift!” Ezzy leaned down to look through her bag and pulled out the book. “You said you were looking for this book but, since it was from the human world and went out of print ages ago, you could never find it.”

“Ezzy, you didn’t.”

“I did! Don’t worry, I didn’t go bankrupt. Here,” she turned to face him fully and held out the book in shaky hands. “Take it.”

As his hand touched the worn material of the book, he felt the tingle of magic run up his arm. “What did you- “

“Don’t worry about it!” she rushed. “Just open it.”

“Open it?” At her nod he did just that, unsure of what to expect exactly.

As soon as he flipped to the first page, a small cloud of purple mist slowly rose from the paper and formed a sort of wall between them. Amidst the colors images started to appear, flipping quickly to form a slideshow.

It started with the group of stray cats he and Ezzy took care of outside of her home. They were sat on the stoop that backed into an alley way and surrounded by cats of varying sizes, ages, colors and wear. Some were blind, some missing limbs, but they all knew the local witch who gave out food and water to any wandering feline. Ezzy and Satan were sat shoulder to shoulder, her head resting on his shoulder, soft smiles on both of their faces. Warmth spread through his chest and he smiled.

Before he could say anything, another memory appeared. This time, they were outside. It was dark out and their only light was a full moon and the stars. Ezzy had taken him to a bit of land far enough away from the city to be rid of light pollution. She’d said she wanted to show him the stars but, where he was concerned, she could ask him to do anything and he’d do it gladly. The two of them may as well have been in some cheesy romance movie. They laid on their backs, not a breath between them, looking up at the sky. He could remember his amazement at just how bright the stars were, he’d never seen the stars from the human world before and here was this little witch, pointing out different constellations and explaining each one. He could remember a picnic, something Ezzy had put together with baked goods and other comfort foods from both her world and his. She never did tell him how she learned to make those.

With a flash the scene changed. This time, they were in her room. She was curled up in her bed, tears streaming down her cheeks and shaking in fear. She’d had a bad day at work, he recalled with a frown. The stress had built up to a rather large panic attack she couldn’t bring herself down from. Satan remembered the frantic call he received from Cyn that night, telling him to go to Ezzy as soon as possible. It was the middle of the night and Cyn was in the Celestial realm on business, otherwise he’d have been first on the scene. He knocked to announce his presence and continued in when he got no response.

“Don’t question it,” Cyn had ordered. “Go full demon form, let her run her hands over your hair and horns until she calms down. It works like a charm every time.”

He followed Cyn’s instructions with confusion. Weren’t demons meant to scare humans? How would him looking intimidating help her calm down? All reservations left his mind when he saw her face, red and stained with tears, her eyes coming back into focus as he reached for her. There was, once again, not an inch of space between them as he held her tightly. She raised her hands up shakily before lowering them and fisting the blanket in them instead.

“It’s ok,” he heard himself whisper. “Cyn called me and explained it. Do whatever you need to do, darling. I’m right here.”

He couldn’t begin to describe that feeling. Her small, soft hands running over the ridges of his horns, combing through his hair and scratching his scalp gently. He’d call it heaven, but that’d be a gross understatement. At some point, he’d ended up laying with his head on her stomach so she could reach better. She had said something about pressure, but he was willing to do anything so long as her hands never left his head.

The scene ended as they drifted off to sleep, words appearing in the place of pictures.

“Thank you, for everything. I love you.”

He stared slack jawed as the words disappeared with the cloud, returning the book to normal. His eyes landed on Ezzy’s bright red face; her gaze locked on her hands that fiddled with the hem of her shirt. He felt as if he’d short circuited, all words had left him as he stared at the woman in front of him.

“It replays,” she spoke quietly. “Every time you open the book a different set of memories plays but the end message is, uh, always the same. It only appears when you open the book, though, so if it gets too annoying, I can remove the enchantment!”

“Esmeralda, look at me,” she flinched at her full name but did as he asked. The look on his face shocked her. It was one of awe and warmth, one of love that she never expected to see. “From the bottom of my heart, thank you. You have given me the most incredible gift; I will treasure it always.”

Small tears gathered in her eyes as she laughed in relief. She watched as he set the book to the side and leaned towards her. Her mind seemed to stutter for a moment, one second he was sitting in front of her and the next he was cupping the back of her neck and pulling her towards him. Electricity shot through her body the moment her lips touched his, literally, she felt him flinch a bit, but he just laughed it off and kept kissing her.

She smiled into the kiss and wrapped her arms around the back of neck, pulling him down with her as she laid back on the bed. A few tears fell from her eyes, but they were filled with overwhelming happiness, so she let them fall. The energy in the room quickly turned to comfort, happiness and love as light static ran between them.

Just out of their sight, hidden in the doorway uncomfortably close together, was a group of eavesdropping brothers. Someone had a phone held up to record the scene, all of them shushing and shoving each other in the cramped space. Cyn moved through the group of boys and quietly pulled the door closed, a gentle smile on his face. 

“Alright you lot,” he whispered. “Shows over, give them some privacy. I swear, you’re all perverts.” The groans and whines as they dispersed was drowned out by the feeling of love emanating from his pact mark and spreading through his chest. A feeling he’d come to find quite familiar.

[officialtrashbin]

Always

O o f  so I don’t think this was at all what you were waiting for anon but I hope you enjoy it all the same!

Rating: M+, for prostitution, smut, and dark themes Alternate Universe. Corvus/Proxima, mentions of background pairings.

* * * * *

He’s had the audacity to dream his dreams again, and in them, he’s done something terrible.

* * *

She lays next to him in bed, an uncareful creature she’s grown in to, smoking a cigarette. He looks at her, covered only by the corner of the sheet; the lights from the building across the street flicker, and the crimson shadow of the neon sign spills into the room in intervals, bracketing her impossibly soft, blue face. She makes him feel a certain way.

“I missed you,” he says.

“Is that all you missed?”

She’s being coy. He puts his hand on her thigh and traces the momentum of her pulse. Her skin prickles where it bends under his fingertips.

He tells her, “Sometimes I miss dying.”

“Oh, Corvus.” She leaves her cigarette burning in the ashtray and straddles his waist, framing his face with her hands. “I am already so lonely when you aren’t near. What would I do with myself?”

“They make toys for that.”

She laughs from her chest, he notices, a self-contained thing. Her mouth captures his. She tastes like the accumulation of her line of work—ash, whiskey, a handful of mint—then, distantly, against the back of her tongue akin to the ghostly whisper of words never spoken, him.

* * *

The first time is business.

He was supposed to be meeting his brother in a decently priced motel in the lower historic district, but a run-in with the Shi’ar had delayed their reunion almost a full week. Corvus decides three days in that he’d rather not spend another night alone, and wanders the city streets at dusk, hood cast up to defend against the downpouring rain.

The place he finds half an hour later is called Sanctuary. Down the alley to its right side, protected from the weather by a long, sloped roof, he glimpses a lone Kree eating out an escort.

He goes up the steps and knocks. The right front door swings open. A woman standing in the foyer glares squarely into his face; her deep green hair is braided back, and she isn’t dressed like any of the escorts. She looks more of a hit-for-hire type.

“Hurry in,” she says to him. “You’re letting the heat out.”

He steps inside and she shuts the door behind him.

“You’re new,” she observes. “What are you looking for? Comfort? Fun? Prices start at three hundred.”

He hadn’t thought about that. His eyes briskly traverse the foyer, taking in the luxurious, classy interior; there are buyers, men and women and otherwise, all different species, with escorts to match the same array of variance, occupying the vast, open corridor.

He shifts his weight.

“Haven’t decided yet.”

He knows he has to buy eventually, but he has leeway with picking who he wants; he takes a second glance at Gamora, and quickly realizes she’s the guard. She carries knives and pistols to deter the potentially dangerous clientele.

“Also, no weapons,” she tells him, holding out her hand. “You can come collect when you’re finished. Don’t worry, I lock these things up.”

“I understand.”

He gives her his glaive and she disappears through a door to the right. Without the staff in hand, he feels vulnerable. But, he tells himself, it’s only for one night. So, he gathers his wits and paces the length of the hall, peering through the doors to learn the building. The rooms are open, cylindrical shaped, social venues. Only one of them yields alcohol.

He steps in, and sees her.

She’s sitting at the forefront of the bar, chatting idly with the server, a woman who doesn’t dress like an escort either; she’s in a navy teardrop dress. The softness of the lace is apparent in the way it moves with her, a painter’s brush stroke on a blue canvas, when she folds one long leg over the other.

He swallows drily.

“I’m assuming you’ve found your taste,” Gamora says next to him. She’d managed to advance on him in his daze, and he curses himself for being so careless.

“Perhaps.”

“Midnight is expensive, but worth the pay, if you enjoy getting your dick snapped in half.” Gamora hears glass break the next room over, and huffs. “I need to tend to that. See me if you require anything.”

“Will do.”

When she leaves, he finally deems it safe enough to move. He goes to the bar and internally practices his lines before laying his hand on the back of the stool and pulling himself into it. She pays him no mind, only throws back her shot of whiskey and then puts a cigarette between her teeth.

The server behind the counter is a tall, blue-skinned woman, with sharp cut cheekbones. He orders a round from her, on the rocks, and finishes it before finally saying something to Midnight.

“How much?”

“You can’t handle me,” she shoots back, giving him a disinterested once-over with her eyes.

He scoffs. “I’m a creature of arrogance. I can handle you, or I’ll die trying.”

That gets a smirk out of her. She says, “Seven.”

He could do seven.

* * *

There are rules. Subjective ones. Guidelines, followed by a golden reassurance that the Master of the House won’t tolerate harm to his escorts by penalty of death. When the lock on the door is secured in place, he asks her about her own additions. She kisses him, slides easily out of her dress; it puddles on the rug.

“I don’t beg for anything,” she says, “or ask for mercy from an outstretched hand,” she slides her finger under the length of his belt like slitting open an envelope, “and I like it rough. No exceptions, or I’ll take your money and throw you out.”

He considers that a challenge.

The sheets are clean, though the bed creaks under them, worn from years of use. It’s only a matter of time before he gets his mouth on her breast and three fingers buried to the knuckle inside of her, and he’s denied her orgasm each time she’s gotten close. She grinds her hips. Calls him a bastard flarkin’ tease.

“Want to come?” he hisses against her neck.

“Fuck—yes, yes—”

“Then beg.”

And she does.

* * *

Afterwards, when they’re both spent and exhausted, he isn’t sure what to do with himself. He sits on the foot of the bed and lights a cigarette. He registers the sudden chill of her bare skin against his back, her soft breasts to his shoulders, and the definition of her muscles as her arms come around his waist. He feels inadequate in her presence. Not good enough for her.

She sets her chin against him. “That was fun,” she utters, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Won’t you stay the night?”

“Another time,” he says honestly.

“So you’ll be back, then.”

“Maybe.”

Maybe becomes yes, becomes always. It’s the closest thing to a promise he’s ever had to make.

* * *

He only sees her once a month after work steers him elsewhere. Each time, her price gets lower, though he’s willing to pay anything she asks; it’s always business, a long and involved process from start to finish. The fifth time, they sit up in bed at nearly dawn, having gotten no sleep, and she tells him things he doesn’t know what to do with.

“I envy you,” she says.

“You wouldn’t, if you knew what I was.”

She’s halfway through her cigarette. He picks it from her mouth, takes a drag.

“I don’t care what you are,” she says. “What matters is that you’re free. You can leave this place any time you want.”

“Can you fly a ship?”

“I can.” She turns her head to look at him. “But. You should know better than me. Nothing is that easy—especially leaving behind a life so lived in.”

He takes another drag, and gives her the cigarette back. “How much for another round?”

“For you”—she falls into him, putting her lips on his—“free of charge.”  

* * *

Each year, the dead are less dead. That’s what his father used to say, and when translated from their language into the common tongue, it’s roughly equivalent to calling oneself old. He doesn’t want to wait for old age to claim him. Not after everything he’s seen, not after what he dreams—such terrible dreams that he wakes up next to her in a panic, reaching for her hand in the dark.

“Corvus?” she utters, half-awake. “What is it?” She rolls over and holds him against her chest. “Was it a nightmare?”

“The dead,” he says, “they become less dead.”

“I always think you want to tell me the truth, but then decide that saying something cryptic is easier.”

That isn’t an entirely untrue observation. He breathes in deep, feels her pulse through her skin.

“What about you?” he asks.

She considers it, and tells him, “I dream of leaving, of being elsewhere.”

Though, he finds out, there is nowhere to go, or anywhere else at all; he listens to her tell him about the planet she came from, Kree-controlled and Kree-mined, always at war. Wide awake, they sit at the edge of the mattress; she talks, he listens. Half-way through her criticism of her own species he leans over and lights his cigarette on hers. She smells like yesterday—the cheap summer ale, hand-washed linens, parlor smoke, soap; he debates whether to invite her back to bed.

Then she gets close to him, and whispers in his ear.

“Will you take me away from here?”

* * *

The escort’s name is Ebony Maw, which indicates that he’s opinionated. He is with Proxima when Corvus isn’t, a good friend of hers, perhaps, always a preference for the male clientele and studiously to the point with everything he speaks of. Corvus has never had a reason to talk to him. Maw, however, finds him when he’s leaving late one morning, and delivers an opinion anyway.

“What has she fed you this time?”

Corvus bares his fangs. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Of course not.” Maw presses his fingertips together and smiles grimly. “You are not the first. Let me guess—she’s asked you when you’ll take her away from here. Softened you up with her ambitions and her rectitude towards the Kree?”

His fingers tighten around the neck of the glaive.

“Perhaps you should ask her what happened to Ballista Grim.”

Corvus snarls. “You’ll find I care little for your commentary. I have somewhere to be.”

The Maw says nothing to that, and watches Corvus leave.

* * *

He doesn’t go back for nearly two months, but the allure of another night with her eventually outweighs his own pitiful resolve and he saunters through the doors and finds her at the bar and relives the first moment they collided lives, gentle as derailing trains. It’s routine by now. They lock eyes, she doesn’t say a word to him, throws back her drink and snuffs her cigarette. She takes his hand, guides him upstairs to that secluded room at the end of the long, long hall and fucks him hard against the mattress.

In the afterglow of it, she tells him, “I thought you weren’t going to come back this time.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“I know Maw said something. He doesn’t like you much.”

“I don’t care if he does or doesn’t.” Then, “Who’s Ballista Grim?”

She lights a cigarette and reaches over to the window, sliding the panel open to let the cool city air into the room. “A lot like you. Killed people for a living, came here a few times a month to let off steam, and I took a particular liking to her. Maybe I have a type.”

“I assume you’ve made a bad habit out of falling for your clientele.”

She laughs. “Of course not. Lista was…different.”

“As for me?”

“As for you,” she says. “You’re…” She smiles distantly, perhaps reflecting, and sucks in a drag. “Lista was the one who put the idea in my head. She wanted to buy me.”

“I take it the Master of the House didn’t appreciate that?”

She offers him a smoke and he takes it. “You see, Than—I mean, the Master, has plenty of hires, and other methods of income. He shouldn’t be so worried about one woman being purchased out of his care, but…” She shrugs. “When the offer to work was made to me, I chose this. I wanted to be here, at least, in the beginning.”

“What changed?” he asks.

“I learned that everything is violence,” she replies. “Love, war, life. All of it is a battle, with a losing side and a winning side. I thought that escaping my homeworld would change that. When Gamora was ordered to put a bullet in Ballista’s head, I realized how naïve I truly was.” She snuffs out her cigarette on the nightstand ashtray. “I know now that anywhere I go will be like this, but at least I will go to war on my own terms.”

He touches her thigh. She feels cold as the night, and alive.

She wipes at the tear in the corner of her eye and tells him, “You’ll be relieved to know, though, they haven’t talked about you yet. Maw is the only one who suspects anything, but he’ll keep his mouth shut.”

He wants to tell her that they can’t threaten him. They can’t kill him. Instead he kisses her and pulls her down into the sheets with him.

She wraps her legs around his waist and holds him close. “I need to know something, Corvus.”

He hums into her neck.

“After everything I’ve told you… Will you still want to take me away from here?”

He hesitates. Slowly, he puts his hand on her cheek and holds her gaze.

“Always.”

* * *

In his dreams, he does something terrible—to her, for her. It’s dawn and they’re still awake, sharing words, and she’s telling him once more about how much she can’t wait to leave here. Here. He realizes only now that here means everywhere, means this life. He could do it. He could do what she asks of him, what the dreams warn him of; take the blade hidden under the bed and push it slowly through her throat.

“Proxima—”

His hands are shaking.

The tip of the dagger lurches through the first layer of skin, and a drop of blood careens down her collarbone. He can’t get the image out of his head. Being near her makes the dead become less dead.

“I love you,” he hisses through grit teeth.

“Oh, Corvus.”

Her hands slide into his, holding him there.

He inhales deep and takes in the scent of her nearness. His own mind is rendered unreliable—he knows only that he’s about to make a decision, one way or the other, even when both end in disaster.

She says, “Will you finally take me away from here?”

[jaksfanficsaver]

Just Another Number?

It was another average day, Y/N followed her usual routine and trudged in her rut. First the library, then the coffee shop, maybe after she'd change it up and go draw in the park for a while.

"Hey Laverne," Y/N murmured walking into the library, the scent of old pages and worn leather hitting her as she took a deep content breath.

"Y/n! What's the pick of the week now?" A stout woman inquired from behind her desk. Y/N chuckled and shook her head with a roll of her eyes.

"You're going to laugh," She teased as she wondered down an aisle.

"Try me."

"It's the Bazaar of Bad Dreams... Again." she added the last bit a tad sheepishly

"With all that King you read it's hard to believe that you don't constantly have nightmares." the short woman laughed and rolled her eyes before going back to her filing.

"What, this one is my favorite of his!" she stuck her tongue out in a childish manor as she went about filling out the card, which most spaces on consisted of her name.

"Mhmm, sure." she clacked away at her keyboard "Go flirt with that barista now."

"Oh please." her nose crinkled at the idea "Anthony is definitely not my type, you know that."

"I forgot, you like older mysterious men, Don't you?"

"Laverne!" Her cheeks flared a bright crimson "I'm leaving now, I can't believe you," Y/N laughed as she walked towards the door.

-------

John wondered the library, just close enough to keep an eye on you but not enough to draw attention. His fingers drew across the canvas spines of old books as he listened to the conversation.

"Stephen King, seems like she's a horror fan," Harold's voice came through the ear wick "Bazaar of Bad Dreams, one of his most recent compilation books, it's a nice collection of short stories... Seems like she prefers them to novels, other books she checks out religiously are the Grimm Brother's Collection and a complete collection of Edgar Allen Poe."

"have we got anything else on her?"

"She likes sushi, she's an Art Major a semester away from graduating, she's had maybe three boyfriends in her life and she volunteers at an animal shelter in her free time." the bespectacled man sat back for a moment. "Who on Earth  would want to hurt her?"

"That's what I'm going to find out, Finch." John's eyes trained on the woman through the bookshelves.

"Mhmm, sure." she clacked away at her keyboard "Go flirt with that barista now."

"Oh please." her nose crinkled at the idea "Anthony is definitely not my type, you know that."

"I forgot, you like older mysterious men, Don't you?"

"Laverne!"

A small smirk quirked at the edge of John's lips at the exchange and how the older woman poked fun at Y/N.

"Hear that, Mr. Reese?" there was a smile in Harold's voice "You could use that to get close to her, if you befriend her it could make our job exponentially less difficult." the pepper-haired man let out a soft laugh at the suggestion and shook his head. "She goes to a little coffee shop called 'The Hideaway'. Make sure you don't lose her." John nodded and hung up, deciding to snatch up the leather bound Grimm book just in case.

---

"Um, a medium Irish Creme and a blueberry muffin please?" She ordered politely at the counter, offering a small smile when the man bearing the name tag reading 'Tony' beamed at her.

"Anything else? maybe my phone number? a date?"

She laughed a little nervously and glanced around, catching the tall man who had just walked in she let out a breath she hadn't known she was holding.

"No thanks, Anthony, just the coffee and snack." The light lilt that was usually in her voice had fallen out into a more flat tone at his insistence.

"Oh come one, one of these days you'll say yes like the smart girl you are."

Y/N shivered and couldn't hide the crinkle of her nose at the suggestion

"Just let me pay, please."

"I got it for you, Muffin," He grinned as if proud of himself.

"I'd really prefer if you didn't." She sighed, she was used to his crap, some days he tried harder than others, and honestly it was the stink of desperation that really made her not want to spend outside time with him. The Hideaway was her favorite coffee shop and she wouldn't let a new, somewhat creepy, barista ruin it.

"It'll be like a first date, c'mon, no harm." The blond man insisted all while she shook her head.

"Anthony-"

"Tony. The only person who calls me Anthony is my mother when I'm in trouble." He laughed, his brown eyes still stuck to her face. By this point John had taken up the spot behind her in line to keep an eye on the situation.

"Anthony, I don't want you to pay for me, and I don't want a date with you, please." Y/N's nostrils flared at the young man.

"But-"

"Well maybe I can buy your coffee for you?" John cut in having had seen enough of the man's failing attempts at convincing her to let him get her items. She jumped startled by his sudden appearance and he offered an apologetic (and charming) smile (that also caught her off guard) causing her to flush brightly. Tony openly glared at the older man that seemed to catch her attention.

"Oh, uh, sure, Thank you... "

"John."

"Well then, thank you, John I'd like that." The h/c girl smiled softly up at him to which he nodded and ordered his own before paying, it was then she noticed the book he had tucked under his arm "Is that the Grimm collection?" she inquired with a smile.

"Ah, yes actually it is," he admitted with what was perceived as a sheepish smile as he lifted the object. "I used to read them as a child, I thought I'd check it out once more." He responded with a light shrug.

"Um, would you like to sit with me?" She offered a little awkwardly while she gestured to a booth he assumed was her usual spot.

"Oh, you don-"

"I insist, really." She smiled more confidently this time

"Well, if you're sure."

"Well done, John." Finch spoke in his ear "Stay with her, I think I can get into the laptop in her bag."

"So, is that a common occurrence?" the ex-operative questioned gently as he sat across from her. Y/N was very aware of the set of brown eyes on the two of them as she cut her muffin in half and offered part to her 'savior'.

"Yeah, that's Anthony," Y/N began with a sigh "He started working here a few months ago and has this thing  with me.

"I see why, you're a beautiful young girl," he charmed, not that it wasn't what he actually thought "Are you okay though?"

"I-" she puffed her cheeks out as she registered what he said and she once again rivaled a tomato "... Thank you." Y/N mumbled softly before taking a sip of her coffee. "Tony is harmless, just persistent," she deflated a bit "My biggest problem with him, aside from not knowing the word 'no', is that I can't quite pin down why I don't trust him." John cocked a brow at this. "I know it sounds crazy, but I pride myself on my initial instincts on people, but I can usually tell why I don't like someone." she shook her head "something is off with him and I'm not sure what."

"I think I might know," Harold began "Anthony has a history of being... overbearing.. with women he likes. He's not violent, but his type is definitely the kind that might set off some flags. I don't think he is the one we need to watch out for."

"So you have good judge of character," he nodded "I'd like to think I do as well." he paused "What made you trust me then?" John was genuinely curious with this one, not just trying to buy time for Harold.

"You have honest eyes." She didn't miss a beat "What I mean to say is that I truly believe you wanted to help me out of that awkward situation." she let out a small laugh and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and looked down into her cup. "So, um, is it everything you remembered?" she abruptly asked, pointing to the red leather that sat beside her new companion.

"Oh, yes," he chuckled softly

"Nice save." commented the voice in his ear.

"Tales that don't just end happily, but have a lesson were always a preference of mine," he explained "While the Grimm's didn't write happy stories they wrote ones I believe need to exist."

"Yes!" her eyes sparkled as she listened to his opinion "I always loved Grimm Tales and Aesop's Fables" Her smile was nearly ear to ear "I had a language class where we had to pick a children's book to translate, I was the only one who picked a fable."

"Almost in, she has a pin protected system... good girl." Harold murmured.

"You speak another language?" John inquired with a small tilt of his head as he sipped on his coffee. She beamed and started gesturing around with her hands proudly. It took John a moment but he recognized it as American Sign Language. He took a moment to think about what he was doing before carefully attempting to sign something back

'H-I M-Y N-A-M-E I-S J-O-H-N'

Y/N giggled softly and nodded.

"Close, some of your letters are a little off- may I?" she gently reached for his hands, smiling more when he placed his own in hers "Okay, so you want to make sure you're really clear on your letters if you're going to finger spell," she had such a light touch as she guided his fingers through the motions "And then there's shortcut signs for 'Name' and 'hello', and there are no little connectors" he watched her as she focused on sharing her knowledge "Aaannnd there you go!" she grinned, satisfied that she taught him a good introductory sentence. She pulled back a little too quickly when she had realized she had still been holding John's hands causing the man to chuckle genuinely.

"Oh, he can laugh?" Harold couldn't resist teasing his good friend "I think you two might be flirting, Reese you dog." If the taller man could roll his eyes he would.

"What do I owe you for the lesson then miss.." John tilted his head, pretending that he didn't know her name.

"Oh my god, I never introduced myself, I'm sorry! It's Y/N." an embarrassed flush coated her cheeks "I'd say saving me from my admirer would be payment enough, but I wouldn't argue if you wanted to do it again tomorrow, same time?"

"Then I'll meet you here, Y/N."

------

John kept Y/n in his sights, snapping a few pictures after the two of you left the coffee shop.

"So you have a date tomorrow morning then."This time John did roll his eyes.

"It's not a date, Finch." he grumbled

"You sound a tad disappointed, Mr. Reese." John glared directly into the traffic cam he knew could see him.

"I'm old enough I could be her father."

"Not quite actually, but that's not the point." John could hear Finch typing "So i was able to find that she's part of some conspiracy forums, that and that she covers her webcams when not in use. Our girl may be a bit on the paranoid side."

"The paranoid survive."

"That's true, but i suspect one of her government conspiracies hits too close to home if any of the trojans I found mean anything."

"If shes paranoid I doubt she'd just download things that could infect her system like that."

"Precisely Mr. Reese... She's got a couple of threads on surveillance, they might be scared she'll find the machine, and if that's true we can't leave her alone for a second."

"Harold, I lost her."

[soerdinan]

Blank sheet fantasy p&p rpg

GF wanted to do the "p&p rpg where player starts with empty sheet, character has lost their memory of themself and what’s happened and has to figure everything out"

I got to decide the personality.

So here is my character, waking up on the floor of a dark, cave-like room that has various mining equipment and lots of glowing crystals scattered around. No idea what's going on, where am I, wtf? A tremor shakes the room and I scamper up driven by the primal fear of the quake.

Checking myself, I seem to have no injuries, only a bit achy, probably from falling to the floor. I'm wearing a hooded cloak, long vest, roomy shirt and trousers, worn traveller's shoes and scuffed gloves with some faded decorations. Clothes are familiar, just very dusty.

Looking around the room I spot a bag on the floor, it's less dusty than the surroundings. Then another tremor that is accompanied by a terrifying, monstrous scream that echoes from a pitch black tunnel on the other side of the room. Uh oh, got to get moving.

I pick up the bag from the floor, and grab a crystal close by that seems the shiniest (in case I need some light) and hurry to the doorway that's on the opposite wall from the 'terror tunnel'.

The doorway leads to a corridor that's  big enough for me to comfortably move in but I can hit my head on the ceiling if I jump.

I arrive to a bit bigger room with tables and such, and in the middle of the floor there is a scepter that has a brightly glowing crystal in it. The scepter stands upright on the floor undisturbed by the tremors. Through a broken doorway on an opposite wall, a bright beam of light shines directly on the crystal. That's...natural.

So the scepter seems valuable and I kinda want to take it with me. I'm not super sure, but I have a suspicion nothing bad happens if I disturb the scepter. I shuffle next to it and carefully pick it up. It resists for a moment  like picking up a magnet, then gives out and the light of the crystal goes out. Whew! My hand didn't explode, all good this far.

Another scream echoes from the tunnels behind me, it's closing in. I sprint to the doorway where the beam of light comes from.

I see light on the end of a long corridor where the beam is coming from and  run towards it. The tremors are worse and stones and dust drop from the ceiling. Near the entrance I see a collapsed wall, and from under the rubble a pair of humanoid feet, not been there too long. Poor whoever died there...seems to be my size. I don't have much time to ponder about that, as I hear another scream, and I just run outside.. (oh well, the shoes didn't seem to be anything special)

Blinded by light, I carefully continue forward, pull my hood over my head (it's a comforting feeling overall), I'm not staying close to the opening. A tremor and rumbling sounds make me look back, the opening has collapsed shut.

Still carefully walking forward I get used to the light. There is just forest in front of me, no paths, no roads. A pile of stone blocks has a glowing crystal on top that shoots a beam of light to the now collapsed entrance.

The crystal seems valuable, so I try to pick it up, it breaks in to few pieces, but I put them all in to the non-dusty bag. Then I start walking left, following the rocky cliffs the entrance was built in to. The tremors have stopped, but I'm not staying waiting for the..whatever there was to dig its way out.

After a bit of walking I hear a stream, and walk to it. I have a drink, fill my flask, eat a bit of jerky I found from my dusty bag. Looking in to the not-dusty bag, it's full of herbs and vials of..stuff. The bag is not familiar like my clothes, maybe it's not mine.

The sun has started descending, I could try camping in the forest, but if there seems to be some settlement near by, that's always better. I have no recollection of this place, or any place near. I get some altitude using the cliffs and spot a village in the  distance. It will be night when I get there, but what the hell, it's not that far.

Traveling to the village, night falls, my hand crystal doesn't help much in the forest. Desiring light, I wave my hand out of some deeply ingrained habit, and ball of light gathers on the palm of my hand. I can do light magic, alright, not complaining. So now brightly illuminated I continue treading in the forest until I plop out of the woods on to a road. From the distance, some lights of the village are visible. Hooray!

So the village is surrounded by a wooden palisade. I walk to the gate and a guard peeks at me from above and carefully shouts "A-are you a monster?!"

I start answering "N- *wait. I look at myself, pat myself a bit, am I sure I'm NOT a monster? What exactly is a monster?* -no, I suppose I'm not?"

Before the guard gets a chance to answer, another guard stomps to him and smacks him to the back of the head, sending his helmet flying over the wall to the ground next to me. "Monsters can't do magic, ffs! Open the gate!”

One of the gate doors opens, the first guard calls to me "Could you maybe throw my helmet back?"

Yeah sure, I pick it up, and in my mind's eye see myself lobbing it upwards for it to just hit the wall and bounce back, but luckily it seems I have decent throwing arm and the guard gets his helmet back.

Inside the village, the second guard greets me, I greet back, bow out of a habit.

The guard asks in a firm but friendly way "On what business are you here at this hour?"

I'm thinking: why was I where I was? I'm totally blanking on any business I've had anywhere "I'm a bit lost, this was the only settlement I spotted"

"Well you're lucky, going east, there are no other villages for a long time after our Crowsfield"

"Say, the other guard talked about monsters? Should I be cautious moving in the area?"

"Yeah, the forest is crawling with em!"

"O-oh?!  Lucky me getting here without trouble"

The guard directs me to the village inn. It seems that the guard doesn't recognize me, so maybe I haven't been here? I don't ask.

I'd love to have some warm food. I'm tired from the walk, but not especially sleepy. Still, I wonder if I can afford a room. I had only 5 coppers when I checked.

I step in to the inn, there are people, but it's calm. Some guards are there, probably taking a break. I don't recognize anyone. I'm keeping an ear out for a "Hey you!" or "What are you doing with THE scepter?!" but nobody pays much attention to me.

But going for the counter, I do hear a heavily drunken shout "Mahe?! Y-ou're alive?!"

Turning to look I spot a dwarf, very drunk one, sitting at a side table that has bunch and bunch of empty of beer mugs. ..and a smallish vial with a picture of, what seems to be an orc skull and crossbones. The dwarf wants me to sit at the table. He seems to know me, so fine. I sit down and look at him kinda confused.

Dwarf gulps down last of his beer and "What happen-how are you alive?"

So I don't want to give out that I'm not sure what’s going on or what's happened. Kinda..not trusting this person though he seems friendly, but like..I don't know him. And he has a 'poison' bottle on the table!

"That's a good question.. Would you buy me a meal while we catch on?"

Dwarf smirks, takes out his wallet and drops all 5 of the coppers he has left on the table. "Help yourself, get me one of those *scoff* watery drinks too"

So I buy a meal for myself, a watery drink for him. With shaking hands he drops two drops and a whoops of the 'poison' from the vial to his beer. I cover my meal so he doesn't spill any on mine, I have no idea what that is. "If you're going to mix that in to it, water would have been cheaper"

"Bwhahah the poison has to at least taste like something.. So what happened? How are you alive?"

Nonchalantly while eating "I don't see a reason why I wouldn't be? What did you think happened?"

"But you exploded to pieces! Orr.. at least there was an explosion and you flew across the room while I was looking at the mining equipment.."

"And you just left me there?!"

"Well we didn't want to but there was this monstrous screaming coming from the depths and the place started to collapse, we had to escape! The whole place almost collapsed on us!" He seems like he's telling the truth.

"Well great that I happened to wake up before the place collapsed or the whatever creature got to me" I grumble.

The dwarf ponders a bit "Well the most important thing is that youre alive. ..would Elliot happen to be alive with you as well?"

"You left Elliot too!?" I have no idea who Elliot is, but I'm not gonna let that stop me from riding this guilt wagon, they left me to die!

"The fuck could we do, a mountain of rocks collapsed on the poor boy!"

Oh, that's Elliot. Sorry Elliot. "No, Elliot didn't get a second chance"

Dwarf nods.

I picked up that the dwarf talked about 'we'... " So where are the rest of the group?"

"Zado and Hemril decided to head home to Greymount. I stopped to take some 'medicine' first"

Zado's name tickles somewhere in the back of my mind, but I'm not sure why. "You're heading there when you're 'medicated' enough?"

"Yup. I presume youre coming too, at least to return Zado's scepter"

I'm kinda curious why Zado rings a bell to me, so sure. And this village doesn't seem...homely. "Of course"

"When I black out, could you carry me to my room.. room three" dwarf drops a key on the table.

Oh an opportunity to get to sleep in a room! I look at the dwarf, look at the stairs leading to the rooms, trying to figure out if I’m strong enough. "Yeaah, it depends how bruised you want to wake up. You could always take the mug and pass out in there? "

Dwarf agrees, I help him up, and while doing that I notice his shirt has a big rip in the side, and blood. Under that, some bandaging is visible. Oh fine, he can keep the bed.

At the room dwarf falls on the bed and to sleep immediately. I dig out some extra linen from the small dresser and make a bed on the floor. I'm not that sleepy, mostly napping.

[polvillodecanela]

Winter Craft

Hello! this is for @seablrd for the @caprisecretsanta2018 , please enjoy it.

Summary

On a Friday night is when the love potions are at its finest. Auguste knew that. Sadly, for Laurent, Auguste is not very keen of doing errands.

"They live among us."

Beep

"My niece was cursed by one of them and now all men leave her."

Beep

"We've hired a priest to exorcize the neighborhood; maybe he'll take them out, running."

Beep.

"Your total is 24.55", the cashier said politely.

"I have coupons, son"

Beep, beep, beep.

"Your total is 15.23"

The tinkling sound of small coins on the counter brought Laurent back to earth.

The market was buzzing with activity at that time of the night. The old woman in front of him was using all her pennies to pay, making them hit loudly on the counter. The cashier was busy and considerably angrier. Meanwhile, Laurent used the opportunity to take a better look at her: Plain, white hair; second-hand clothes (badly trifted) and worn shoes. She looked like a stereotypical witch herself, funny thing. Behind him, a couple was talking about a dinner with friends they will go later. Honestly, Laurent had more important things to do that being there, on an unmovable queue; also, he had four or five things to say to the now retiring old woman: 1. Yes, witches and warlocks live among you, or as his mother used to say "it's those imbeciles who live among us”

2. We are busy people, Karen, we do not have time to walk around casting curses on people. If your niece is left by all men, she must be a repellent person like you are.

3. If you call a priest to perform an exorcism, please make him go to our house so the man could try and cast out a couple of naughty spirits that Auguste let in last Monday who hasn’t let us sleep since.

The line advanced a little, the cashier directed an apologetic look at Laurent who returned the gesture. Now, a girl buying some candies. Laurent rolled his eyes when the girl used the classic I-forgot-my-money play to tried to steal some things. The cashier stopped her quickly and, politely, told her to leave. His eyes weren’t very warm though.

Finally, it was his turn.

"Let's see: Rosemary, Thyme, black tea in leaves, mint, lemons" the cashier looked at him through his red eyelashes, his eyes shining with high interest and a bit of mischief “The youngest de Vere has bought all this, today precisely on a Friday night ", then, he leaned in conspirational. “Who are you enchanting, huh? Is a she? Or, is it a he?”

Laurent felt his cheeks going a little bit pinky. If Ancel could guess what those ingredients were for, he can`t even imagine what would be of his reputation if someone older noticed that too.

"Shut up, Ancel and just tell me the price. "

The redhead giggled childishly.

"Your brother must tell me how to make my love potions more effective."

"Easy. You have to be graceful, not that plain...you've already lost. "

"And that’s why I'll charge you the non-magical fee. Its 8.50”

Laurent left the money and took everything acquired. The list wasn`t complete, though because of course, Auguste loved using Laurent’s precious full-moon Friday time as the errand boy for his next potion.

His older brother had been trying for months - M O N T H S - to have a little toss on the sheets with the guy of the vet clinic, who had come not long ago to the neighborhood. Months using his charms that, of course, would not work in a hetero guy.

But, honestly, who would dare to say Auguste the contrary, huh?

"Laurent!" Auguste had said a few days ago "I have it"

Auguste’s bright blue eyes gave Laurent all the clues to figure what was in his brother’s mind and he was sure as hell didn`t want to know. Sometimes being the smartest in the family was more a burden than a blessing

“A Brain? At last?" Laurent answered without looking up from his book.

A pillow crashed Laurent’s face.

"No, silly little brother” Auguste smiled, “a hair of the handsome Greek boy from the veterinary. He is going to be mine, finally. Nobody resists my charms”

If Laurent had a penny for every time he saw that smile… 

"Let me guess,” he said eyeing one of his brother’s pockets “sleep potion"

"It just took a few drops, no more." he lifted his shoulders as if it was not a big deal "he didn’t even fall off the chair".

Auguste did a show of stereotypical magician and from behind Laurent’s ear, he tucked out a thick tuft of dark long curly hair. He smiled triumphantly. "I'll make him surrender to my feet, you'll see, but before that… I’m lacking something, brother"

Laurent's stomach clenched. He felt the small twist that only meant that something was off as his brother gave him a bright blue look. Bad news

"No," Laurent said authoritatively, chin up.

"I have not asked for anything yet!"

"My answer is no."

"But I have to clean myself and my cauldron for the potion and you know that implies meditation and everything” he paused and did a fashion of remembering something “also, I have to get pretty for my date. So … please?”

"No, and nothing will change my mind," Laurent claimed, swearing to resist Auguste’s puppy eyes. He would die first.

Hours later, Laurent was still wondering how the hell he ended outside, on a perfect full moon night with a purchase under his arm that hasn’t even come out of Auguste’s pocket.

"I swear if Auguste makes me buy him condoms or some shit like that, I'll give him hemorrhoids and the party will be over."

 With heavy steps, Laurent walked towards the Flower Shop. A delicious smell of cinnamon invaded all his senses, that and the smell of new flowers and herbs gave the place an aura of festivity and easiness. Being a frequent costumer Laurent knew almost all the plants and herbs the crew offered there, he always found the ingredients he needed and Lykaios was nice to him, even that time when he went in the morning, the other employee (Erasmus?) were good to him.

Alright, he needed some roses and Damianas. What was a Damiana like? Were they just leaves? Did he need the flower? Many?  A few? In Auguste's chicken scrawl he could only read "a pinch of Damiana".

A pinch.

Damn it. Here is when knowing most of the herbs proved insufficient.

Laurent looked at the counter, completely empty. Probably she was doing inventory or something, he thought with a little bit of concern.

He looked around, just to confirm that he was the only one there, before reaching to his neck to extract a necklace with a navy blue crystal that seemed to hold the universe inside. He concentrated his energy and with a soft murmur said "Take me to the Damianas".

Walking through the small shop, Laurent let the small oscillating pendulum guiding him to some beautiful yellow flowers "They have to be those", he thought happily. He was so aware of the movement of the crystal that he didn’t feel a thing; a really solid bulge what was sitting on the bottom of other shelf so, naturally, he stumbled and fell heavily letting go the necklace that went to the bottom of the Damianas shelf. 

Laurent’s heart sunk as he let out a growl of frustration. The shelf looked heavy and solid and the crack where his chain passed was narrow and dark. He was ready to use a levitation spell when behind him, the thing he stumbled into went up. It was a person. Go figure.

Laurent looked up, up and up to find ... a dimple.

The young man in front of him cleaned his knees, put his hands on his hips and looked down at him, with the most sincere smile Laurent had ever seen, the leather apron resting softly on a thin hip and embracing - very well – his large biceps.

"I'm really sorry,” he said going a little bit pink “ the bell store broke this morning and I haven’t had the chance to put it back again, you were being really silent so I didn’t notice you."

"What about Lykaios?" Laurent said, recovering his voice. He was still sprawled on the floor.

"In maternity license" the other one raised Laurent taking him by the arm as if he were made of paper.

Laurent was a bit dumbstruck. To say that the new employee was big was an understatement.

"Oh, yes, I remember. She was very pregnant ", he said, abruptly. How eloquent.

“Yeah, because of that I'm taking the afternoon shift. Erasmus is in charge of the morning one. You know Erasmus?"

“Yes, of course,” No, he didn’t but maybe just maybe his brain wasn’t working good enough. It wasn’t weird if he had said that he didn’t know well the other boy since he always buys there at night. Why lie, then? Oh crap, he wasn`t being really smart at the moment. It wasn’t ideal.

The guy’s smile grew fonder if that was possible. Where on earth does one find people like this? Laurent wondered. The guy was glowing and the Christmas lights made wonders on his olive skin. And his biceps, he could perfectly wrap his both hands around one of those and still they couldn’t round them completely. Laurent checked if he had his mouth closed.

“How can I help you?" And again that dimple.

The guy’s smile was somewhat fond, weird thing considering Laurent actually kicked him while stumbling. Laurent smiled too, just a bit.

Don’t get too excited. 

"Damianas" he said. The guy’s smile turned playful.

"Here, at the front aisle" He walked to the shelf, the one where his crystal went under. "They are excellent for erectile dysfunction."

Laurent closed his eyes and counted to five before embarrassment made him turn that innocent man into a lizard.

"I didn’t know that. For the record, those are for my brother." Laurent explained, trying to sound less embarrassed that he was. 

"Oh, you should not blush. Many have that problem" he paused." By the way, when you tripped with me I thought I heard glassware. Did I break something?"

"A very old crystal from my family is under that aisle," Laurent said feigning indifference.

Without much effort, the guy pushed the shelf, flowers and all, and yielded it a few centimeters, just so that Laurent could lean and take his crystal. Okay, if Laurent was a little bit dumbstruck at first, now he was really stoned; with his eyes almost coming out of his sockets he inspected his necklace, it was intact and Laurent sighed quietly with relief. The employee returned the shelf to this original position without even breaking a sweat.

Seriously, where on earth does one find something like that?

"Hey” The guy let out an appreciative whistle “that crystal is very cute, matches with your eyes."

It was quite funny to see how the employee went from confident to goo when Laurent combed behind his ear a wild strand of his hair and put on the necklace. Laurent allowed himself to smile, just a little bit more as he curved his lips higher.

"Thanks, for the effort” Laurent got a bit closer “I'll take one of those” he signaled the yellow little flowers that were on a pot “and three roses, please. "

"Only three?" the guy tilted his head. Like a golden retriever, Laurent’s brain prompted.

"Yes."

The man went to do his work, taking a pot with him to carry the flowers.

"There we go,” he said. Dimpled smiled and all “they are 20 but since we are arriving at Christmas season, I leave them at 15. Now, a piece of advice: for whatever you are going to use them, use the leaves, not the flowers, uh sorry, for whatever your “brother" is going to do. Have a nice day"

Giving thanks, Laurent left the florist with more than one curse in mind for Auguste.  When he arrived, the smell of too many candles gave him nausea. Auguste was out of control. However, Laurent left the purchase on the dinner table and went to his room. He had been doing a study in his dream-journal and did not want to lose the connector wire.

Four books later he felt those little electronic touches of his brother's powerful magic. Apparently, whatever Auguste was doing was ready. He had completely forgotten to tell him the matter of the leaves.

"Damianas," he said as he heard a knock on the main door.

A curly haired tall and muscly man, with the expression of who prefers to be literally dead that there, found him in the entrance.

"Good evening," The strange said trying his best to sound kind or polite. Laurent frowned. The animosity was mutual.

"Oh, Nikandros, good evening" Auguste exited the kitchen with a thermos under his arm and wiping his hands with a cloth, like an older woman, his voice sounded like cheap silk. Laurent rolled his eyes. "We're leaving; I made some tea for us later."

Auguste gently guided Nikandros with a soft but powerful grip on his shoulder towards the exit.

"Laurent" he whispered, before following. "if everything goes well, do not wait for me tonight" and then, without any shame he had the audacity to wink at him.

"TMI, Auguste, TMI"

It didn’t go well. Crying, Auguste told him the next day that in his carelessness, the thermos that contained the powerful potion went to the floor spilling everything; how the potion stained Nikandros’s pants; how he almost killed him at dinner with an almond and how Nikandros had said goodbye rather coolly and with reason, honestly.

"Can you tell me how he agreed to go out with you in the first place?" Laurent said patting his brother on his head, trying to ignore how stained with mucus his t-shirt was.

"He lost a game of cards against me," Auguste admitted.

"Oh, you mean that you made him lose a game of cards against you."

"Those are meaningless details”

A week later, Laurent was heading back to Ancel’s store. The redhead was looking curious through his long eyelashes, taking note to see what else Laurent acquired to use it to his benefit. The old woman from last week was also there, taking a pancake mix.

Laurent smiled mischievously. He concentrated strongly on the package the old woman had in her hand, thought of sand, ashes, earth and finally, tasteless dietetic sugar. He felt a bit of his power leave his body as he spelled.

"I hope that thing tastes like shit". The old woman didn’t flinch. She didn’t even notice.

The line at the market moved faster this time. The old woman did her share about the failed exorcism. False, the naughty spirits were actually gone. Thank you, old repellent woman please enjoy your shitty pancake mix.

When Laurent put his items on the line Ancel let out a gasp “This is the first time I saw you buying the same ingredients twice. Did your brother fuck it up? How?”

“That’s none of your business, redhead” 

“Oof, he fucked up badly since you’re this angry. Here, I’ll give you a discount, pay me 5”

“That’s the magical fee” Laurent arched an eyebrow

“Ugh, you got me. I really can’t offer discounts”

That made Laurent Laugh.

“Nice try. Call me next time you’re doing free readings” Ancel’s green eyes shined with interest.

“Are you asking me for a reading? Is about a someone?”

“Don’t ruin my good mood, I warn you”

Ancel showed his hands in surrender. Someday he will be able to know some dark secrets. For now, he smiled and proceeded to register the next person’s items.

The bell of the flower shop worked on this occasion. Mr. Dimple was at the counter making a beautiful arrangement, wrapping in soft blue butter paper roses of many colors.

"Hello!” he beamed, once he saw Laurent. “What a pleasure to have you back, how can I help you?"

"Good afternoon, I would like again ...”

"DAMIANOS."

To Laurent's surprise, Nikandros went through the door as if his life was depending on it. His hair was a little disheveled and his expression somewhat lost. Laurent noticed a silver ring on his ring finger that was not there before, the engraving familiar to him. Auguste's sigils, probably a B plan. Bile gathered in his mouth as a headache started.

Nikandros stopped dead at the door when he noticed the blond young man, looking angry and flexing his hands with intention.

"Nik, good night,” The employee (Damianos) said, smiling “It's almost ready".

"Your name is Damianos" Laurent said, still looking at the ring. He was feeling a bit dazed, was it the cinnamon?

"You are Auguste's brother." Nikandros crossed his arms.

"Auguste?”  Damianos blurted out as Nikandros directed a cold stare at him, too late. “The guy you’ve liked since always and that always ruins your dates?"

"The what now?" Laurent directed his entire attention to Nikandros. It had to be a joke.

It wasn’t. The story took two hours in where it was clearly established that Auguste does not have the faculties to read people. Laurent was on the verge of crying for multiple reasons, all the lost afternoons of shopping, for nothing. All the "Laurent, stir the potion clockwise, not the other way" or "Laurent, do I look sexy or nah?" and "Laurent, I ran out of candles "at 2 in the morning. All because Auguste could not understand that not everyone who liked him was going to kneel and ask for his hand on a date.

He was almost dissociating when the comment reached his ears like a bomb.

"Double date, but not like a romantic double date but like a fun-with-friends double date, okay?"

"Huh?"

"You were not hearing?" Damianos said kindly. He really looked like a Golden Retriever.

"Oh, yeah sure" he lied. Without knowing he had dug his grave.

"Then" Damianos gave him a paper with a number, most likely his phone. "Text me?"

"Sure" He almost ran out of the store "Thank you, Damianos."

"Call me Damen, please.”

Damianos took Laurent’s hand gently, smiled – with that goddamm dimple of his – and winked, mischievously. Laurent heard Nikandros sigh behind him “And I’m being serious, call me."

[arcanelaurels]

I just read your "kravitz and taako meet at a (college?) party and taako's super drunk" fic and loved it. Did you ever/could you ever write a follow up to that scene?

✨Like My Work? Buy Me a Coffee!✨

Part 1

“Hmmmm…”

Taako absentmindedly ran his hand through his hair that hung below him as he dangled upside down halfway off of his bed.

“Hmmmmmm…”

He shook out his hair and sat up, imagining that he probably looked quite glamorous as his hair fell forward to frame his face. He ruffled it a couple times for good measure (despite the fact that no one could see him), then tapped his phone against his chin a couple times. He unlocked it to look at his contacts page. For a few moments, his thumb hovered over the screen in hesitation.

“Ughhh!” He groaned and fell back so he was hanging upside down again. 

It had been three days since he’d gotten sloppily drunk at a party and thrown himself at that (extremely sexy) classmate of his. Three days since Magnus had thoroughly embarrassed him even more than he’d embarrassed himself. Three days since Kravitz had given him his number.

I hope you’ll text me sometime. When you’re sober, that is.

Taako was most definitely sober now. And tomorrow he had his class with Kravitz. It would be a bit awkward to see him in person again without texting him. 

But he just couldn’t fucking do it.

What was he supposed to say? Hey, it’s me. Cha’boy. You know, the guy who basically assaulted you while drunk? Sooo…you wanna go out sometime?

As if.

He groaned again - loudly - and sat back up. He’d spent the past three hours trying to figure out how to text Kravitz. Three hours. That’s more time than he spent on anything other than cooking, primping, or studying (though he wouldn’t admit that last one to anyone but his sister). Three hours of fruitless brainstorming. He absentmindedly ruffled his hair and flipped it a couple times as he glanced around his room, searching for ideas.

His eyes landed on where Kravitz’s jacket was hanging off the back of his chair. Taako grinned as an idea formed in his head.

Kravitz was beginning to regret giving Taako his number.

Three days and zero texts. Either Taako wasn’t as into him as it seemed, or he was too embarrassed about his behavior that night to contact him. But he didn’t really seem like the kind of guy to let embarrassment get in his way. 

He nervously fidgeted with his pencil, rapidly tapping it against his textbook. He’d been trying to study the entire weekend but was too distracted. Why did he give Taako his number? Why didn’t he ask for Taako’s number instead?

No, that wouldn’t have worked. He never would’ve gotten up the nerve to text him. But at least then he would’ve known that the lack of communication was his own fault. This was just agony. 

His thoughts were interrupted by his phone vibrating with a notification. He grabbed it - a bit too eagerly - and saw that he’d gotten a text from an unknown number. Oh gods. Kravitz took a breath before opening the text.

He spluttered a bit when he saw what Taako had sent him. It was a photo - nothing racy, but quite the glamour shot - of Taako wearing the jacket that Kravitz had loaned him. He was biting his lip and had one hand running through his hair in a suggestive pose. Underneath the picture, two more messages appeared.

Unknown Number: i think ill be keeping this bad boy for myselfUnknown Number: looks pretty good on me dontcha think?

Kravitz needed a few moments to process. How the hell was he supposed to respond to that? As he tried to gather his thoughts, he took the time to add Taako’s number to his contacts. After a few more moments, he came up with what he hoped was a sufficient reply. Gods, he hated flirting over text.

     Me: I think you’d look better out of it

It only took a couple moments for Taako to reply, but it was quite possibly the longest few moments of Kravitz’s existence.

Taako: ooo spicy boyTaako: at least buy me dinner first     Me: Is that all it takes?

Kravitz grimaced with immediate regret as he waited for a response.

Taako: listenTaako: you already saw me at that partyTaako: i think any semblance of integrity is already out the window my dude

Kravitz chuckled - nervously - and tapped his fingers on the table as he tried to gather up the courage to send another message.

Taako sat in his bed as he waited for Kravitz’s next text. He pulled his knees up to his chest, hugging the jacket tighter around himself . It was just because it was a really comfy jacket. And he wanted to make sure it smelled like him when he gave it back to Kravitz. It definitely had nothing to do with the crush he had on that guy.

Krav Boy: So do you want to go to dinner, then?

Taako chewed on his lip. He supposed it was his fault for making that dinner joke, but he didn’t know how to tell Kravitz that he didn’t really like any of the restaurants nearby. 

           Me:  ehhh dinners too basicKrav Boy: Do you have better ideas for a second date?           Me: SECOND date????Krav Boy: Yeah, the party was our first date           Me: you got a pretty fuckin wild idea of what constitutes a date my dudeKrav Boy: How so?Krav Boy: We danced, we had a nice conversation, and I dropped you off at your place           Me: i think you mean           Me: i threw myself at you           Me: i overshared about my dumb problems           Me: my “”””friend”””” exposed me           Me: and then you nagged me to drink waterKrav Boy: Forgive me. I won’t refer to it as a date, then

Taako sighed. Who the fuck texted so formally? He was going to have to work with him on that if they ever got past a second date.

Well, depending on what classified as a date.

           Me: you hear about that new place that opened up on campus?Krav Boy: You’ll have to be a bit more specific than thatKrav Boy: I don’t really keep up with campus activities

Taako rolled his eyes. Hopeless.

           Me: its one of those wine and pottery placesKrav Boy: Oh, I’ve never been to one of those. What’s it called?           Me: the chug n squeeze

There were a few moments of silence where there wasn’t even any indication that Kravitz was typing out a response. Taako was starting to wonder what was going on when his phone rang. 

“Hullo?” He asked, sitting up straight.

“The Chug N Squeeze?!” Kravitz’s voice came out in an undignified wheeze of laughter.

Taako couldn’t help but chuckle at the sound of his laugh. “Yeah, my dude.”

“I thought you were pulling my leg but I looked it up and it’s real.”

“Duh, I wouldn’t lie to you.” Taako twirled his hair around one finger. “Why’d you call me?”

“I, uh, I’m not a big fan of texting,” Kravitz said. “And I’m not too good at it.”

Yeah, no kidding. “Ah.”

“So would you like to go to the Chug N Squeeze with me this Friday?”

Ugh. Friday was so far away. But dates on weekdays were never fun. And besides, he’d get to see Kravitz in class before then. “Hell yeah, homie.”

There was a pause where Taako could practically feel Kravitz grin. “It’s a date.”

“Sounds good. Oh,” Taako hesitated, taking a millisecond to have an inner debate about what he wanted to say next. “Make sure to save me a seat tomorrow, kay? You always get to class way before me.”

“O-Oh. Yeah- Yes!” Kravitz stuttered. “I will.”

Couldn’t text or talk, it seemed. Taako smiled to himself. “Alright, see ya then.”

“See you.”

Taako hung up just as Lup burst into his room.

“Hey if I took a skeleton an- What the fuck are you wearing?!” She stopped dead in her tracks with an outright offended look on her face.

Taako felt his face grow hot as he grasped for a response. Kravitz’s jacket was very nice, but it was nowhere near Taako’s style.

“Uhhhh stole it from a guy,” He responded, trying his best to sound nonchalant about it.

She crossed her arms, very clearly not believing it. “And what possessed you to steal that jacket?”

Taako smacked his lips and opened his mouth to answer. “Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii…” He trailed off, blinking repeatedly as he failed his Deception roll. “Don’t know.”

Her ears perked up as if she’d just realized something. “Did someone give it to you?” She asked, a devious grin on her face.

“No.”

“Liar!” She took a running leap for his bed, landing forcefully enough to make Taako grab the mattress in an attempt to avoid being flung off his own bed. She pulled her legs under herself to sit cross-legged and clasped her hands together, resting her chin on them to give Taako her undivided attention. “Tell me his name!”

Taako wished with every inch of his soul that he could stop his cheeks from burning. “No. fuck you.”

“Taakooooooooo,” Her ears drooped and she pouted. “Pleeeeeeeaaaaasssse!”

“Get out of my room.”

“I’m not leaving till you tell meeeeeeee.”

Taako scowled at his sister, who stared right back with an indignant look. With each passing second, he could feel his willpower being worn down. Fuck.

“Fine! Gods, you win!” He threw his hands in the air and refused to meet Lup’s triumphant gaze. “Asshole. His name’s Kravitz.”

Lup frowned in thought and Taako grimaced as he waited for her to figure out where she’d heard that name before.

Her eyes suddenly widened in realization. “Is that the guy you said you would give-”

“SHUT UP!”

She leaned forward and excitedly drummed on Taako’s knees. “You got a date with that guy?! How? I thought he was, like, way out of your league!”

“Okay, first of all, rude,” Taako’s embarrassment was pushed to the side as he sat up to argue with his sister. “Second of all, I won him over with my charms.”

“So you made out with him while drunk?”

“No!” He said indignantly, crossing his arms.

Lup laughed. “Then what’d you do?”

“I…” Taako trailed off, knowing full well that he did not want to recount the events of that night to his sister. “I mean I did. Sorta. He wouldn’t let me.”

“Ooo, a gentleman?” She sat up straight and put on a posh accent. “This fellow sounds like quite the catch. How does he plan to court you, my dear brother?”

“Gods, you’re so fucking annoying.”

“I love you too!”

[faelune-home]

FFXIV Write 2021 #28: Bow

(a/n: This became a very heavily backstory focused piece, although the original intent still shifted a bit even then. I wanted to give some focus to Fhara joining the guild in Gridania and then a bit on her training in her younger days, but then it shifted instead to being about a going away gift from an old mentor. :’D

So no spoilers, all backstory with a bit of the archer guild start. I had so many tabs open trying to double check Gridania’s laws on hunting and in the end, its the shortest section. XD

Word count: 1694)

“Mother Miounne did send word that a budding archer had arrived at Gridania’s gates,” Luciane said, already taking stock of Fhara, standing before her with an etched shortbow in hand, “I take it you’ll already have some experience with that bow if you would be willing to come here with it in hand.”

“Yes, miss!” Fhara nodded vigorously, “I was personally taught by one of the best hunters in my home village. O-of course, I know that Gridania has some laws or special restrictions on hunting, it’s not something I would be doing here.”

“Of course, but the experience is still good to have. However Gridania does have certain understandings about hunting, so long as there is a respect for the creature’s life when it is taken, and that its whole would be used fittingly. Did you have any such teachings in your own home?”

“Of course! Every piece of a creature has value, so its life shouldn’t be taken for vain sport. The meat for food, the pelts and furs for clothing, sinew can be used for bindings in weapons or furniture, even the bone can be used for flavouring stew. Anything that we couldn’t make use of or had no space to store, rather than cast it aside, we would trade it with other villages or sell it to merchants going to Radz-at-Han. The alchemists of the city always find some use for the material, I’ve heard.” Her tail flicked nervously, hoping the explanation was suitable for the guildmaster, keenly aware of some narby archers casting glances her way between their target practise.

She had naught to fear as Luciane gave an approving nod. “I’m glad to hear it. Even if your home does not have the same restrictions the Twelveswood does with having to appease the elementals or to mind the natural balance of the forest’s fauna, you clearly have been raised to have a lot of respect for the life you would take.” Fhara let out the breath she’d been holding, relief flooding through her. Enough that she was comfortable to ignore the stares, despite one still harshly boring through her from the side stairs.

Luciane continued, “However, you are not here with our guild as a hunter, so you’ll have less to fear in following our guidelines, though mayhap there will come a time when you will have to be aware of our laws for hunting animals for their meat or skins. I am merely pleased that you have a good understanding of the basics of archery to begin working from. To which end, I would like to see your skills in action, to see where further improvement can be made...”

--

“You always were set for bigger things in life--” Fhara’s ear pricked and she turned from packing her bags, her longtime mentor standing in the doorway-- “just a shame to be seeing you off all the same. I figured I could’ve taught you more.”

“I know you could have. But you’ve already taught me so much, Khuba. I’ll always be grateful.” The old tia’s tattered auburn ear flicked, the shade of the room away from the midday sun hiding the faint blush he had at her compliment.

“Aye well, you were always a fast learner. Even if I had more to teach - which I do, of course, I’ve been doing this long enough--” Fhara giggled at his preening. He always had time to praise himself-- “you probably would’ve picked it up quick enough and then what would I have for you. Maybe that Gridania guild can take you further than I could. I’ve heard lots of good things about the guild. A few bad things about the city, mostly that they’re arsey about people not from their parts. But you won’t let that get to you, will you?”

“No sir!” she said with a mock salute and a smirk, which widened when he barked with laughter.

“Oi, there’ll be none of that now. You haven’t called me that for years,” he sighed, an oddly wistful tone to his last sentence that caught Fhara off guard. However he brushed it off quickly with a flick of his tail, moving to ruffle her hair and earning a brief mew of protest from the younger woman.

“Enough of that now. You’re all ready to go, right? All packed?”

“Yes!” To further her response, she picked up the bag and tied it shut, hoisting it into his arms, letting him test the weight of it. Most of her packing was set for the journey from Thavnair to Aldenard, namely spare clothing and some dried foods to snack on, plus a bag of coins saved up over the years to buy anything extra she needed either in Radz-at-Han or the final port out of Thavnair, or for once she reached the continent. Anything else would be once she was settled in the city of Gridania, ready for her years training under the guild there, or for when she would begin her travels across the region.

“Feels good, although I don’t see a bow and quiver here anywhere. You think the Archer’s Guild is going to take you without a bow?” Khuba asked, a skeptical eyebrow raised over sharp green slitted eyes.

“Of course not, I was going to take one from here with me once the cart arrives.”

“And deprive us of one of our cherished weapons, will you?” Fhara rolled her eyes, already hearing the dramatic shift in his tone. “Imagine, we’re down a bow and the winter ends up harsh this year, the bitter winds coming in southbound from Ilsabard, and we can’t send out all our best to get food. What then?” She bit back the casual response that another could be made, partly out of a lack of certainty if the materials were available, and partly out of a curiosity as to where Khuba was going with his theatrics.

“What do you suggest then?” she asked, taking her bag from the older miqo’te and leaving the house she shared with her aunt - the woman in question busy in the kitchens that day until Fhara’s scheduled departure.

“I did have something in mind,” he said, following after her. In amongst the increased bustle of a busy village and the sounds of the wind in the trees, she almost would’ve missed his sharp whistle if he weren’t directly behind her. Turning back to him in confusion, Fhara was startled to see a cluster of younger kittens, mostly of his newest group of young trainees, rushing out from around the corner of her house toward them, the child at the front carrying a bow and quiver in hand that was certainly too big for himself. She gawped in surprise as the bow was offered up to her, expectantly proud smiles upon the younger one’s faces. 

Khuba leaned in and muttered into her ear, “It was their idea first if I’m honest. To make you something special for leaving.”

“Something you can use as well,” one of the kids added, “And remind you of home.”

“I--no I couldn’t. This is too special,” Fhara stuttered, trying to fight back the tears that were already threatening to fall. It was a lovely shortbow, a fine maple wood dyed dark red, with delicate swirls and designs carved into it, and a dark leather wrapped around the grip.

“Not at all, it's not often that people leave here to go off on grand adventures,” Khuba insisted, taking the bow from the child and holding it out directly to Fhara, who still hesitated to take it. “It’s a special occasion, Fhara, so that calls for a special gift. We ordered a few materials just for this.”

“Oh gods, I don’t deserve that,” Fhara coughed.

“But a big hero needs a special weapon,” one of the younger girls insisted, ear perked up tall, “If you’re going to make stories, they’ll have to talk about everything about you!”

“Yeah, it probably won’t last that long to be fair, even for a good quality make,” Khuba added quietly, making sure only Fhara heard it, “But it is a gift from all of us here. I’d like to say I carved it myself, but I can’t take that credit; nowadays my hands can stay steady for a shot, not so for the finer details.”

With a small yet warm smile, he said, “That part was your aunt. She’s probably the most proud out of all of us here, although I’m sure you knew that. Now you take this, and don’t forget to give her a big thanks before you leave, alright?”

The tears were already freely falling when Fhara took the bow and quiver in hand - there was another little sniffle as she recognised Leytai’s signature stitching along the leather for the arrow case - and all she could do was nod, unable to answer lest she break out into full sobs.

“Make sure you keep in touch as well,” Khuba nodded, “These kiddies will drive the rest of us mad without your stories, so they’ll need something to keep them entertained. Although I’m sure I could tell the old tales half as well if I tried.” Fhara finally giggled at Khuba’s self-flattery, accompanied by a smug smirk and a flick of his tail.

“Seriously though,” he said, a solemn look crossing his face and his voice dipping to Fhara’s ear only again, just loud enough over the sound of the giggles that had spread to the younger kids, “you’ll take the world by storm. I know it, your aunt knows it and most of these kiddies that damn near idolise you know it. Just don’t you forget it.”

--

She no longer used that old bow, it having long since been worn out from use. The wood didn’t bend the way it used to, creaking whenever it was pulled at, the leather was faded and unravelling from the grip, and the string was loosened and thinned, many of the strands snapped.

But she kept it hung up on the wall of her room with the Scions, a fond reminder of home and the man that had taught her much of what she knew.

[justalittlebluetiefling]

Chapter 63: Sometimes I Can’t See Myself

Rating: T Fandom: The 100 Pairing: Bellamy x Clarke Chapter: 63/66 Word Count: 3082 Words

Chapter Summary: The one where Octavia meddles again.

Also on AO3;  Start from the beginning on AO3

Clarke had the house to herself for the first time in over a week. Raven was working a night shift and Octavia was so busy planning for the senior recital that she hadn’t had any more chances to force a heart-to-heart with or about Bellamy.

All Clarke had done for the past couple weeks was think about their last conversation. It was driving her to distraction. When she sat down to try to paint or draw, nothing came out right. Even her ceramics class was turning out worse than usual and that was saying something.

To drown out the thoughts about how it might not be the end of the world if she asked Bellamy out on a date, an actual date, Clarke found an upbeat playlist on Spotify and blasted it at full volume while she put dishes away. The chore devolved into a dance routine and she bounced and twirled between cabinets and the dishwasher in her pajama shorts and an old t-shirt that she used to paint in before it got too worn out.

She grabbed a mixing bowl off the top rack and went to spin her way over to the cabinet it belonged in when a figure in the doorway made her jump. It only took a second to realize that it was Bellamy leaning against the doorframe, watching her with a small smile on his face, but her heart was still trying to beat its way out of her chest.

“Fuck, Bellamy, at least announce yourself next time.” Clarke was a little breathless. It was only partially because of the dancing.

“Don’t stop on my account,” he said, his smile growing into a grin.

She rolled her eyes. “Do you always creep up on women while they’re doing chores?”

“Only when they’re dancing.”

“Right.”

“I mean, you’re hot, so that helps, too.”

Clarke rolled her eyes again, so hard it hurt. It almost felt like old times, like maybe he was teasing her. “Smooth, Romeo.”

Bellamy pushed himself off of the doorframe and crossed the room to take the bowl away from her to set it in the cabinet. “I’m guessing there isn’t a movie night tonight?”

Clarke tilted her head, watching him take over her job of putting the dishes away. “Who told you that we were having one?”

As soon as the question was out, she knew the answer. They both said, “Octavia,” in unison.

“She wanted to have a Star Wars marathon,” he added.

“Which movies?”

“All of them, I think.”

“How in the world did she think we would have time to watch seven movies in one night?”

He shrugged and set the last plate in the cabinet. When he turned to face her, she realized she had been staring at the way his shirt lifted to expose the smallest amount of skin when he reached up to put a plate away on a high shelf; the way it fit his shoulders too well. It did things to her that she had always tried to avoid thinking about. And she wanted… she wanted a lot of things. Most of all, she didn’t want him to leave.

“What’s going on in that brain of yours, Princess?” He smiled like he knew and thought it was the funniest thing in the world. His eyes drifted down to her legs and she realized that her shirt barely skirted the hem of her shorts.

Clarke busied herself with tying the hem of the shirt into a knot at her back, trying to not think about how cute he was when his cheeks flushed like that. “We could watch the movies anyway, if you want. I haven’t seen them in way too long.”

Bellamy didn’t say anything for a moment and Clarke started to panic. Because, what if he was acting so normal around her for once because he was over it? Over her? How could she have been thinking about ways to suck it up and ask him out while he was getting over her?

“If you want, I mean,” she said to fill the silence. “I’d like to watch the original ones again, but you don’t have to stay.”

He still didn’t say anything, but he started to walk toward her and she backed away until she hit the counter. There was less than two inches of space between them. His eyes flicked down to her lips. It was barely noticeable, but Clarke was pretty sure she could hear her heart pounding.

“What are you doing, Bellamy?” she asked breathlessly.

“Making popcorn.” He tore his eyes away from hers and reached into the cabinet behind her to grab a bowl before he turned and walked toward the pantry. “We’re not going to talk about anything, but we can eat a shit-ton of popcorn so that O has to go buy more if she wants any. Payback for her trying to force a conversation, right?”

Clarke could only nod as she recovered from the sudden lack of his presence, although she did allow herself to stare at his ass a little while he started up the microwave.

Halfway through A New Hope, it almost felt like a normal night. They were on opposite ends of the couch, which wasn’t normal, but the bowl of popcorn was in between them. It was a fragile barrier, a reminder of how different things were. Things could have been easy again if Clarke couldn’t feel the underlying tension radiating between them.

Tension may have been the wrong word, but it was the only one Clarke could think of that felt adequate. There was no stiffness in either of their movements and they would occasionally throw popcorn at each other, but Clarke had to force herself not to react if their hands brushed in the popcorn bowl.

About half an hour into Empire Strikes Back, Clarke moved the mostly empty bowl to the coffee table and scooted a little closer to the middle of the couch. The way his face was lit up by the screen… well, it just looked good. And she used to lay in his lap while they watched movies. Being far away felt weird and she didn’t want things to be weird anymore. It was a step in the right direction, she hoped.

A few minutes later, he scooted a little closer to the middle and flung his arm over the back of the couch. His fingers played with a strand of her hair and Clarke leaned back into it. With that small touch, everything felt like them again. She missed the easy touching. It used to be so simple. Or maybe it hadn’t.

Clarke felt like hitting herself, because how could she not have realized years ago that they were more affectionate with each other than with anyone else. It seemed normal to her, because it was how she grew up with Wells and she snuggled with Octavia or Raven sometimes, but that was mostly after they were a little drunk. She wondered if it was why Jasper had insisted on assigned seating at movie nights, because maybe he saw the way she would rest her head against Bellamy’s knee and the way Bellamy would play with her hair. Maybe he had been rooting for them.

A part of her had known when she asked him to stay to watch the movie where things might be heading, but as his fingers danced gently along her scalp, she found that it didn’t really scare her anymore. Not as much as it did before.

They stayed that way until he got up to switch the movies. When he came back, he sat down a little closer than before and Clarke stubbornly closed the distance between them. She pulled his arm around her shoulders and he winced. She immediately felt horrible and tried to pull away.

“I’m so sorry. Are your ribs still—”

He stopped her by grabbing onto her shoulder and pulling her back into his side. “I’m okay. I just can’t move my arm that fast.”

Clarke pulled away again, but not much and turned toward him. She pulled his shirt up and touched his ribs carefully. “You don’t need them to be bandaged anymore?”

“I haven’t for a while. The doctor says I’m good. Unless, of course, you’re just trying to get my shirt off.”

Clarke felt herself start to blush, but she couldn’t hold back her grin. “I think the whole world has seen you without a shirt on plenty of times.” She let his shirt drop and met his eyes.

Bellamy reached over and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers sent shockwaves through her system. “I don’t know. You’ve only seen me with my shirt off when you were utilizing your impressive first aid skills.”

“And at the beach. And about half the hikes we’ve ever been on. And basically every time I’ve ever shown up at your place before everyone else.”

“You keeping track, Clarke?”

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “You wish.”

“Maybe a little.” He licked his lips and Clarke fought back a shiver.

“What if I am?” She licked her own lips and bit her lip when his gaze dropped to follow the motion.

“Clarke….” He frowned a little, as though he just realized what was happening.

She frowned, too, because she didn’t want him to frown. She didn’t want whatever was happening to stop. It was the last thing in the world she wanted so she grabbed the collar of his t-shirt and kissed him.

Their first kiss had been gentle. Their second was anything but. It was full of everything she had been holding back and her teeth dug into the back of her lips. It hurt, but she was kissing Bellamy again. The minor and temporary inconvenience of pain didn’t matter.

It caught him off guard and he didn’t respond at first. She moved her hands up to his cheeks and kissed him again. And again. The shock must have worn off with the third kiss, because his lips finally softened under hers and his hands slid around her waist. His fingers dug into the small of her back when she swung a leg over his lap to straddle him.

The way he sighed when she ran her tongue along his lower lip made her wonder why she waited so long to kiss him again.

The way he slid one hand up her side until his fingers curled into her hair at the same time his other hand gripped her hip made her head spin.

The way he bit her lower lip twisted up everything inside of her.

The way he groaned when her hips swiveled made her wonder why they were still wearing clothes.

Clarke moved away from his mouth to kiss up his neck and take his earlobe between her teeth. He whispered her name when she ran her tongue up his ear. But then his hand wasn’t in her hair anymore. It was on her shoulder as he pushed her back. She pouted when the hand on her hip moved to her other shoulder.

“Clarke,” he said, completely wrecked, “just stop for a second.”

“Bellamy… why?” She ran her fingers along his arms until she could grasp his wrists. She was breathless again. It might have been the fear of why he pulled away or it could have been the kiss. “I want this. I thought you wanted this.”

“I do. I do,” he whispered. He settled on hand against her cheek again and ran his thumb along her cheekbone. “You’re just… you’re confusing the hell out of me right now.”

“How is this confusing?” She gestured at his lap with a smile, but he didn’t take the bait.

“Things used to be like this all the—” He cut himself off when she raised an eyebrow at him and he finally laughed. “Well, not like this. But you know, we used to sit around and watch movies and you’d always be touching me. I hoped that we could just be normal today, because I’m tired of not being around you.” He swallowed hard and dropped his hands. “It feels different now. It never felt different until….”

He trailed off and she frowned again. “Until we kissed?”

“It was different before, Clarke. For me, anyway.”

He looked down at his lap and she pulled back. He didn’t stop her as she pushed off of him and settled back into her seat. Clarke folded her hands in her lap and stared down at them, trying to figure out exactly when their touches and jokes had started to mean more.

It made her think about her freshman year when things with Roma had fizzled out and he stopped bringing random hookups around. It made her think about how his relationship with Gina had just ended and he had never told her why. It made her think about what Lexa said when they broke up; how he punched Finn in the nose; how he had waited up after that date Jasper tried to set her up on a couple years back.

Maybe she had misinterpreted the motives behind everything they ever did for each other. Maybe she hadn’t. Even before she knew she had feelings for him, he was the only person she always wanted to be around, whether or not she would have admitted it. Maybe she finally understood why nothing else ever worked out for either of them. But she couldn’t figure out when her feelings had become more. Had they always been more?

Her stomach was tied in knots, because she had no idea if any of it meant what she thought it meant; what she hoped it meant. She looked back over at him and he was still staring at his hands, so she reached over and grabbed one. It was enough to get him to look up.

“When was it different?” Her voice was weak, but she needed to know.

His shoulders dropped as he sighed and turned to face her, pulling one leg up onto the couch. “Clarke, I….” He shook his head. “You don’t want to talk about this.”

“I asked!”

Bellamy studied her for a long time and she made sure she kept eye contact. After a moment, he dropped his gaze again. “You said it isn’t worth the risk. Are you really going to be able to pretend you don’t know how I feel if I say it out loud?”

Clarke closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to slow her heart down. The effort was futile, because when she looked back at him, she was immediately lost in his eyes again. “What about what I feel? Can we really pretend that we don’t know—” She cut off when a door slammed outside. “Shit.”

Bellamy let his head fall back against the couch. “Shit. Which one is that?”

Clarke grabbed the remote off of the table and turned the movie down a little bit, trying not to laugh. “You remember that your sister doesn’t own a car?”

Bellamy chuckled and Clarke stifled a giggle into her palm. “I know that. I just thought Linc—”

They both covered their mouths, almost erupting into a new wave of laughter when they heard Raven’s muffled shout outside. “Oh my god, O, are you okay?!” Bellamy and Clarke looked at each other, eyes wide They couldn’t hear Octavia’s response. “They’re going to kill you!”

“They are not going to kill me,” Octavia’s voice was clearer. “They are going to be too busy making out to kill me. You know Clarke gets weird romantic feelings about Han and Leia.”

Bellamy poked Clarke in the shoulder and she smacked his hand away. She would kill O later, even if she was right.

“Can you hear the speeder? That is clearly Return of the Jedi, so unless they took a break from making out to change the movie, you’ve been waiting out here for nothing.” The door unlocked and they jumped apart, but not as far as they would have earlier that night. “Clarke? You in here?”

“We’re in here,” Bellamy called.

Raven poked her head in cautiously. “Star Wars marathon?”

Clarke smiled. “Sorry you missed most of them. You want to finish this one with us?”

“Are you watching the next one tonight or are you going to bed after this one?”

“I’ve got to map out some more practice curriculum in the morning,” Bellamy said quickly. “I might actually head out now. Do I need to go pick up Octavia from the studio?” His question was a little too innocent and Clarke elbowed him. She didn’t even feel bad when he grunted.

“I’m already here,” Octavia yelled sulkily before she stomped up the stairs.

“I’m going to call it a night, then,” Raven said, rolling her eyes. “See you in the morning, Clarke.”

“Night, Raven,” Clarke said.

When they heard both bedroom doors close, Clarke turned back to Bellamy and put a hand on his shoulder. “I know I didn’t want to talk before,” she whispered, “but maybe we can meet for coffee tomorrow?”

He narrowed his eyes at her, but couldn’t hold in a grin. “What time?”

“Ten-thirty?”

Bellamy nodded and stood. Clarke watched him walk toward the door, trying to force down the nerves that threatened to overwhelm all of the good things she was feeling. She knew what she wanted. She still wasn’t quite sure, but she thought she knew what he wanted, too.

He paused at the doorway and turned back. “Clarke?”

“Yeah?”

He smiled. It was a small, sweet smile, and it made her want to kiss him again. “It’s been three years.”

Clarke’s eyes went wide and he left before she could think of a response. Even though she was alone, she could feel her face heating up and she covered it with her hands. It took a long time for her to feel like she could try to go to sleep. She was more distracted by his semi-confession than she was by the lingering memory of their kisses.

But she needed to sleep, because she was going to see Bellamy in the morning. For a moment, she was tempted to wake up Raven and ask her what she should wear. Only for a moment, though, because if things went the way Clarke hoped they would, she wanted to keep it to herself for a while.