#he gets to keep his mind intact but he has to be a bird first and suffer indignities

[cubbyhole-for-flea-bee]

what if NMJ just poofs into an owl when qi deviations loom tho

Bonus from a later reblog:

FWUMP

[dojunie]

MESSENGER, HRJ [PT 8: SHH!]

➥ PART 8 OF MESSENGER; a small smau about a stranger, a whole lot of animal pics, and a relationship you would never have expected to come from texting a random number written on a public bathroom mirror.

➥ WC: 3.4K

[PREVIOUS PART] [INFO/MASTERLIST] [NEXT PART]

a/n: double update AGAIN bc i took forever to update 🤠

current tl: @matchahyuck @theboyz-jacob @hoeshi17 @neoteez01 @hibernatinghamster @luvvsnae @shwizhies @skynightgalaxy @ihrtnyu @kunvibing @liliansun @txpxwxk @is4b3ll3s @rxnexxi @rum-gone-why @she-is-dreaming @chenfleur @haedgaff @twogyuu @jeongintwt @rinrinslovebot

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RENJUN HAS NEVER WANTED TO STRANGLE SOMEONE MORE THAN HE DOES RIGHT NOW.

There were almost tangible beams of heat drilling into the side of Donghyuck’s head as Renjun glared at him from across the table, while the man in question smiled and flirted and chatted with his girlfriend like absolutely nothing was amiss. Birds were chirping. The sun was shining. There wasn’t a single cloud in the sky, and students were wandering around in the quad outside without a care in the world—

—And yet, he still felt like he was seconds away from being executed.

Had Renjun’s mind not already been obliterated from the test he’d just taken in his last class, he might’ve been more suspicious of Donghyuck’s text. Because Lee Donghyuck? Asking him if he was free to study? On a Friday? 

However, a few hours of studying simply didn’t sound too bad after just barely escaping English Lit with his average intact, which meant he didn’t smell the blood in the water until it was too late— when he’d stumbled upon the rather quiet corner that Donghyuck told him to head towards instead of their usual spot on the first floor. (And this should have been another clue, as Hyuck has only ever wanted to study near the vending machines on the rare occasions Renjun could convince him to open a book, but like any normal human being, he wasn’t thinking that this random change in scenery would lead to this.)

He rounded the corner, saw Donghyuck, saw Doyeon, and then saw you, and instantly felt like he'd just walked into the universe's idea of cruel joke.

Why? Well. Because the only logical solution after realizing how badly he'd fucked up by not immediately telling you who he was after the volleyball game— the double life he’d accidentally started by being too embarrassed to tell you in fear of… everything, really— had been to just... never see you again.

As stupid as it sounds, like some plot from a teen movie, it was the only thing he could think to do that wouldn't make things worse.

Renjun would quicker die than tell you this, but he'd gotten used to you. He'd grown familiar with always having you in his head, accustomed to your endless exclamations, used to how his mood would shift for the better every time your message bubble appeared on his screen— and the idea of losing you because of something so stupid made his stomach squirm like nothing he'd ever felt before. To keep you in his life as Duckboy he'd have to stay out of your way as Renjun, and if those were the stakes then he'd take his chances.

He'd just avoid you like the plague. That was fine. He could do that.

(Since he's never seen you in real life before this week, it probably won't even be that hard, he thought. Right?)

Right.

Hence the reason his heart just about exploded in his chest when he saw you sitting in this library seat. 

A few minutes have passed since then, original panic ebbing into tightly-wound stress as the seconds ticked by with you not even a foot away from him. 

He initially thought that if he just acted really serious about studying, you might keep your distance. If he glued his nose to his textbook and said nothing, pretended you weren’t there, entirely at the expense of looking like an uptight dork but hopefully putting you off from wanting anything to do with him— he might get out of this unscathed.

He felt you looking at him. He’d even caught you nearly say something to him once, watching you open your mouth out of the corner of his eye, before you thought better of it and slouched back down in your seat, frowning.

For a while it worked. But as he honestly should’ve known about you by now, if your messages were anything to go by— your curiosity could only be so subdued.

“What course is that for?”

You leaned into Renjun’s side of the table. 

He tore his eyes away from the textbook he wasn’t focusing on to look at you, and is wholly embarrassed by how easily his indifferent facade cracks.

The worst part of it all is knowing that if he wasn't such a coward, you might've been halfway to being friends by now. Maybe this would have been it. But instead he set himself up for this: You, sitting at his side, asking him questions and talking to him and entwining yourself further and further into his space with the obvious intent of getting to know him better, without the slightest idea that you already knew him. You know where he was born. You know his hobbies, his favorite animals and least favorite foods; you know about the difficulties he has with brother, and because it’s easier to tell things to strangers on the internet, you know things about him that not even his own family knows.

Except you don’t really feel like a stranger to him anymore.

“I can’t recognize like half the words on that page. This is math, right?”

“Applied Statistics,” he replied feebly. 

There were some things that couldn't be translated through a phone, though. Like the clear lilt of your voice without the tin of a receiver. How much you seem to fidget; biting pen caps, tapping the table with your fingers, bouncing the balls of your feet against the carpeted floor. Your lack of respect for personal space. He’s hit by a blast of your shampoo or perfume (Honey, like you told him you put in your tea? Vanilla?) as you bow your head closer to oogle at his side of the table.

“Have you ever seen the Davinci Code?" you asked. "All that equation gibberish that was floating around the Mona Lisa in that really, really, ridiculously long monologue scene near the beginning?”

He has never seen the Davinci Code. He nods anyway. 

“This looks like that. You actually understand this stuff?”

“It’s an advanced course,” Donghyuck cut in suddenly. Both you and Renjun turn to look at him; you in interest, he, with irritation hastily returning. “You have to take a test to even get a chance to take that class because it counts for like, three math credits, instead of the one like the rest of us losers have to contend with. Renjun here is pretty smart, you know?”

Fuck off, he wanted to bite— but then you hummed and nodded beside him like this made sense, and he temporarily forgot his venom.

“Probably why I haven’t seen you around,” you told him casually. “I don’t tend to attract people with more than two brain cells to rub together, if not already obvious by my friendship with these two.”

Doyeon gasped and reached across the table to swat at you, and you flung yourself closer to Renjun to get out of her reach. You’re giggling brightly as you begin to bicker with her, the same laugh that’s been swirling around in his mind since that night you called him— and again, his irritation slips away at the familiar sound. Though, instead of it being recouped by the slushy feeling he usually got when he thought about your laugh— he’s struck by even more guilt.

The only reason Renjun already knows what you sound like is because you called Duckboy that night. 

The reason he’s so sure he’s smelling honey and vanilla is because you told Duckboy that those were your favorite scents. 

The reason he knows that math isn’t your strong suit isn’t because you just told Renjun that you find it hard— it’s because you told Duckboy a few days ago that you flunked two math courses in your freshman year, and that it really knocked the wind out of your sails. It was something you told him in sincerity, the first time he’d ever noticed a waver in your usually boisterously confident persona and the sheepish way you brought him a little closer; how Renjun had to fight to keep from grinning when you got flustered afterwards and made him promise not to make fun of you for it. 

‘I only tell people that I really trust about that,’ you’d texted him later, ‘So don’t go around making me regret it!!!’

And now he was repaying your sincerity by lying straight to your face. If that wasn’t grounds for regret, he didn’t know what was.

His stomach was in knots by the time he was snapped out of it, to the sound of Donghyuck’s muffled wailing. Muffled because Doyeon’s hand is clamped over his mouth, the girlfriend in question staring at him, wide eyed, as if he’s just done something awfully stupid— and judging by the pinched look on your face as Renjun chanced a glance at you, he might not have been too far off.

“Kim Doyeon,” you whispered, betrayed.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry— Shit, I thought you were kidding! Was your little phone-rendezvous seriously supposed to be a secret?”

What? Renjun lost the plot. He has no idea where the conversation has gone. Donghyuck manages to wrangle Doyeon’s hands from his mouth, enough for him to gasp a needed breath, and then out comes a howl that echoes throughout the high ceilings of the SNU Technical Library.

“You have a cyber-boyfriend?”

Turns out that the corner that Donghyuck picked for his study session was not nearly as secluded and confined and soundproof as you all thought. Ten seconds later and you were being run out of the library by the little, hawkish, very red in the face floor attendant. Twenty seconds later, poor Renjun has somehow ended up saddled with Donghyuck’s bag as you and Doyeon chase him around the front steps of the building, shouting obscenities over his lack of decorum— and another twenty seconds later the four of you are walking back to the dormitory block, Donghyuck’s ears pinched pink and the conversation having shifted back to normalcy.

You hadn’t really been planning to study today. You honestly hadn’t been planning to do much of anything really, besides vedge out in your dorm room with a bag of frozen peas on your ribs (courtesy of Duckboy’s quick thinking, though you’d never tell him that) since only two short days have passed since the game and you were still plenty sore.

But Doyeon, in her text, had offhandedly mentioned that this Renjun guy would be coming, and your sudden openness to cracking open a book surprised the both of you. She, because the last time you willingly agreed to study with her and Donghyuck was… Never, and you because you weren’t expecting the mere idea of seeing Hyuck’s friend again to make studying sound like less like torture.

You’d be lying if you said your mind hasn’t run across him since the game. Nothing nefarious, of course. Just vague curiosity. Interest. Mostly around how, with a face as cute as his, it was possible you’d never noticed him around campus before; or just why the hell he’d been acting so weird when you met. Plus other innocent questions, like what he got up to in his free time if he was allegedly as reclusive as Donghyuck had joked. Like if he read books. Or played an instrument. 

Or if he had a girlfriend. 

(You know. Completely harmless things like that.)

Then he’d appeared in the library corner a little bit after you’d gotten there, looking properly studious in his little denim jacket, books huffed up under his arm and bag slung over his shoulder— but also just as stiff and sickly as he’d been upon seeing you a few nights ago. 

It was like your mere presence put him on edge but you had no idea why, and this little study session confirmed that it wasn’t just a first-meeting-jitters thing. He didn’t seem to relax for a single second back there at the study table, and pondering the list of possibilities began to drive you a little crazy. 

(Did you smell bad? It couldn’t be. You’d showered before you left your room, and even spritzed an extra burst of your honey chamomile perfume since you knew you’d be in close proximity to him today. Were you too pushy? Hopefully not— you’d been trying your damnedest to be on good behavior, only asking the most mundane of questions to hold yourself back from voicing any thought that grazed your brain like you usually did with potential friends; and he’d been responding in kind. He wasn’t weird around girls, since he seemed to talk to Doyeon just fine— So what’s the deal?)

You didn’t get any closer to answering that question like you’d hoped you would before the session was over, but that was no matter. All today had done was cement in your brain that, whether he was just a natural introvert or if it really was something about you that ticked him the odd way— you’d die before you gave up on figuring it out.

Maybe a little dramatic. But that’s just how much you hated being left in the dark.

After Donghyuck had gotten you all kicked out of the library (and you’d socked him good for the ‘cyber-boyfriend’ comment), the consensus had been to just call it quits on studying for the day. Fine with you. You didn’t mind an hour to kill before practice, anyway.

You’ve ended up beside Renjun again as the four of you wandered down the path that led you back to student housing. Hyuck and Doyeon were a few steps ahead, mumbling about something you weren’t quite close enough to hear, until Doyeon cursed. 

“Of course I would remember now,” she whined. It was only when she stopped to turn, eyebrows knit as she found your face, that you even realized she was talking to you. “Statistics. Statistics. That’s what I was forgetting to tell you in the library. I got a text from Guyeon a few hours ago complaining about a pop quiz that her statistics professor set on her this morning, and I remembered you two were taking the same course but on different days— the whole reason I even asked you if you were free to study with us today was to tell you that so you could prepare.”

“Statistics?” you echoed. “Like… Stats 204? Professor Yubin’s Stats 204?”

She winced, damning confirmation, and when it finally hit you almost gasped aloud. You have a pop quiz tomorrow?

“So?” Donghyuck asked. “Just study for it tonight? Aren’t you free for the rest of the day?”

“No, dipshit,” you hissed, dread steadily rising, “Considering that your girlfriend is the captain of the team, you should already know that Doyeon and I have practice in an hour that doesn’t end until six! Not to mention that studying doesn’t really help when you barely understand the material in the first place—”

“Aren’t his quizzes pretty short though?” Renjun asked quietly.

It was obvious that he wasn’t expecting any of you to hear him, from the way he froze when all three of your heads whirled in his direction, but you did. You heard him loud and clear. 

“What was that?” you asked quickly. His face seemed to pale three shades at the sudden intensity of your stare. 

“Have you… Taken? Statistics 204 before?”

“Uh—I… Yes? But it was in freshman year, I mean, it was a while ago—”

“But you took it,” Donghyuck interrupted, voice suddenly very, very pointed. You glanced at him. Hyuck’s face was now the perfect picture of interest, a carefully neat and somehow still nefarious grin tugging at his lips. “Right, Jun? And like I said, Y/N, Renjun here is a real star when it comes to numbers. Did I already tell you he has a 4.0 too? That he was a tutor last year?”

Your eyes widened further. He was a tutor? He was that smart? 

Foolishly you asked in what subject, knowing the answer wouldn’t sway your sudden bubbling desperation either way, but you felt it right to ask— and Donghyuck’s smile only widened further. 

“Math.”

“I stopped tutoring though,” Renjun blurted quickly, as if only now realizing where this was going, and you turned back to him to catch his expression morphing into clear alarm. “I only did it for a few months because the STEM board asked me to fill in a spot, I’m not any authority or anything—”

“The school asked you to tutor people?”

“I feel like that should make you a very big authority,” Doyeon chimed. “Maybe the biggest authority, actually.”

“Well shit,” Donghyuck said cheerily. “And aren’t you free for the rest of the day, Renjun? Isn’t that just the craziest coincidence that Y/N could use a study buddy tonight?”

And for the first time in the very short amount of hours you’ve known this guy, as Renjun whirled to look at Donghyuck, you saw a cast on his face that wasn’t vague discomfort or straight up horror. It was a look you didn’t even know Renjun’s face could make— and the pure, burning disdain written all over his features was enough to snap you out of your blind hope.

His expression couldn’t be any clearer; Renjun did not want to be volunteered.

Which… duh, you suppose in hindsight. If he couldn’t even sit next to you in the library without looking like he was waiting to exploded, then what type of torture would it be to study with you alone? Sure, you were desperate for any chance to not fail this quiz, but the last thing you wanted to do was force the guy into your space when he obviously wasn’t too sure about you yet. Ideally, you wanted to win him over naturally. Not through Donghyuck’s odd meddling. 

Before Donhyuck could say anything and make it worse, you shook your head and forced as big a smile as you could manage.

“That’s alright,” you said, casually waving a dismissive hand, “I got it. I, uh… I have another friend who can help me out, anyway— I’d hate to spring something on someone so last minute!”

You felt Doyeon’s pointed eyes on the side of your face, narrowed in obvious disbelief— because you were lying through your teeth and she knew that you had no friends who were taking Stat 204 this semester, much less any who’d ever volunteer to help you study on a Friday night— but instead of acknowledging her suspicion, you avoided her gaze altogether and restarted the walk back to the dorms.

“What?” Hyuck whined belatedly. He stared at you as if he couldn’t believe whatever he was scheming didn’t work. “But— But Renjun is literally—”

“Forget it,” you interrupted. “I have no interest in taking up his night with the hell that is reversed variables. Doyeon and I have to be at practice soon and I still want to eat, so can we get a move on?”

This thankfully seemed to be the end of the conversation, even if Donghyuck was huffing and puffing the whole way back to the dorms; Doyeon next to you now since your sudden speed walking had shifted you to the front. You knew she had things to say about all of that but you kept your eyes forward. (It wasn’t like she wasn’t going to have an entire afternoon to interrogate you in the gym during practice, anyway. God.)

The two boys paused on the pathway as you and Doyeon branched off towards your own building, Donghyuck making all sorts of crying noises and loud declarations of love as Doyeon walked on and tried to look annoyed about it (clearly failing, if the pink in her ears was anything to go by), while Renjun just stared off after you like the entire weight of the world was on his shoulders. 

Almost as if realizing he was being odd again he rebooted, blinking it out of his eyes and nodding you goodbye in proper quiet fashion, you couldn’t find it in yourself to be too off put by it. 

(Mostly because his lip pulled into the tiniest smile as he waved, and the sight of it was cute enough to make you forget. What can you say? You’re a simple girl.)

If it turned out that there really was a reason for how curious he was being, you were sure you’d figure it out soon enough. You were rather good and sleuthing out secrets— and Renjun was the most intriguing puzzle you’d come across in a long time.

[PREVIOUS PART] [INFO/MASTERLIST] [NEXT PART]

[kozidraws]

Kirishima likes to make paper cranes and "flies" (flicks) them over to Bakugo when he gets bored. Bakugo naturally sets them aflame. After a while Kirishima gets the brilliant idea to write compliments to Bakugo on the crane paper, knowing Bakugo will just blow it up.

It was a terrible battle always sitting near Bakugo and resisting the urge to blurt out his every thought about the blond.

But doing it this way, Kirishima gets to pour out his feelings on paper, because his love for Bakugo is too big for even his body to contain.

He tests the waters first, just writing 'You're cute when you glare' then with practiced ease, folds it into a crane and flicks it at Bakugo.

And lo and behold, Bakugo doesn't even look up from his homework, just snatches the paper in mid-air and lights it up with a small explosion.

Kirishima grins to himself.

Perfect.

So it becomes a routine at their study sessions. Bakugo makes him study, Kirishima mind wanders as he stares at the blond, then has to write his feelings down.

Fold paper, make crane, throw at Bakugo, repeat.

Bakugo doesn't even snap at him for the increased amount of paper birds, just goes through the motions of capture and destroy.

Until one day.

Kirishima's mind just would not stop thinking about how much he loves Bakugo, so onto the paper it went. It was the fastest his pen moved this study session, that's for sure. He surprised himself that within five minutes he has a whole page written.

He had to stop there, no way was he gonna write on the other side. Too risky.

He folds the paper into a crane, turns and throws the crane-

Bakugo is looking right at him.

'Oh shit.'

The crane flies neatly into Bakugo's hand.

But it doesn't explode.

'Play it cool. Do not break out into nervous sweat, that will make him suspicious.' But now he's also been too quiet, damn it.

Bakugo looks down at the crane, still intact, then back at Kirishima.

"Now, I'm going to give you a chance to tell me what you just wrote."

There is no way in hell he was going to confess. Nope, nope, nope.

Wracking his brain the first excuse to pop up was "Uhh, new gym routine?"

Bakugo raises his eyebrow.

"Is that so?"

"Yup! Watched a fitness video so wrote down the routine to try it out."

"Which you then threw at me?"

Kirishima winces, "...yes?"

"Fine," Bakugo leans back on his chair, he almost looks relaxed, but his eyes harden in challenge. "Then as your gym buddy I better make sure it's up to my standards then."

Bakugo quickly starts to unwrap the crane.

Kirishima stares in frozen terror.

Bakugo clears his throat, lifting up the paper in front of him, a smirk gracing his features as he starts to read aloud.

"Dear Bakugo-"

Kirishima lunges.

They both grunt as they tumbled to the ground, Kirishima thought he'd have an advantage since he landed on top of the blond but Bakugo instantly got defensive.

"Fucking knew you were lying!" Bakugo shouts as he blocks Kirishima's hands.

"Okay! You got me! Just give it back!" Kirishima pleads, getting blocked again by an elbow.

"Y'know if you have an issue with me, you could say it to my face instead of a letter!" Bakugo snarls.

"It's not that either!" Kirishima shouts back. He tries to get under Bakugo's arm.

Wrong move.

Within seconds Bakugo had managed to flip him using a headlock. He's back is on top on Bakugo's chest as he stares at the ceiling in shock. Kirishima tries to pry the arm that locks around his neck but it's no use.

"Now let's see what you had to say to me."

Kirishima closes his eyes, sighing in defeat as he stops trying to escape. Can't delay the inevitable now. Now his friendship is going to go up in flames because he couldn't keep his feelings to himself.

The crinkling of paper feels like a loaded gun.

"Dear Bakugo, once again I can't help myself, and I blame you, this is all your fault," Bakugo pauses, a sour tone in his voice before he continues.

Kirishima mentally pleads with the blond not to read the whole thing aloud, he's going to die of embarrassment.

"How can you just sit there doing your homework yet I can't take my eyes off you, you're so handsome it hurts."

"It's the same when we fight, or when you cook our meals, you're so graceful and skilled and I just lo-" Bakugo stops reading aloud but Kirishima knows he's still reading it. His fate is sealed.

Oh how he wish he had a teleporting quirk now.

Kirishima can feel his eyes start to sting, he doesn't want to be here when Bakugo finishes reading, afraid of the consequences. With renewed desperation he tries to move again, grabbing onto the arm still locked around his neck.

Instead, Bakugo's arm tightens.

Kirishima keeps tugging, squirming while he can feel a few tears start to slip.

"Bakugo, please, just let me go." He chokes out cursing his voice for sounding so broken.

Bakugo must have finished reading it because he hears the paper flutter to the ground.

In the next moment Kirishima feels Bakugo's other arm wrapping around his waist as the blond sits them both up, Kirishima now sitting in between Bakugo's legs but he refuses to turn to face him.

Kirishima sniffles, wanting to wipe his tears but Bakugo has locked his arms in a tight embrace. He can feel the warmth radiating off Bakugo as the blond leans even closer against Kirishima's back, hooking his chin over Kirishima's left shoulder and sighs.

"Kirishima,"

Here it comes.

"I'm going to move you but don't try to run off." Bakugo warns, he waits for a small feeble nod before loosening his hold, arms hooking Kirishima's legs so he's now sitting in Bakugo's lap, his right side flush against Bakugo's chest.

"As I said before," Bakugo starts, raising his hand to cup the side of Kirishima's face, wiping away a few stray tears, "If you have something to say to me," the blond leans forward to touch their foreheads together, "say it to my face."

Kirishima barely feels like he can function being so close, he stutters out a breath, another tear leaks out but Bakugo is quick to remove it.

"I, I..." Kirishima stalls, Bakugo nuzzles their noses softly together and it's enough encouragement to whisper out "I love you."

Bakugo tightens his arms around Kirishima, pecks the redhead briefly on the nose before he presses their lips together.

Kirishima is so shocked he doesn't move at first, frozen because he couldn't believe this was happening.

That didn't bother the blond, he was a good tutor after all. He lifted Kirishima's arms up to wrap around his neck and kissed him again.

"I love you too Kirishima."

That was all Kirishima needed to hear.

He surged forward, renewed courage to kiss Bakugo back.

This time when they landed on the floor Bakugo let out an amused huff, bringing Kirishima closer so the redhead could pepper his face with kisses.

Bakugo seemed to enjoy Kirishima's enthusiasm, couldn't stop grinning and chuckling as Kirishima kept going.

Kirishima was addicted, he wants to hear his laugh and see his smile for the rest of his life.

"I love you so much!"

Bakugo intercepts him, sneaking another kiss before getting up.

"Let's go, I need to cook your favorite meal to celebrate." Bakugo says, holding out his hand which Kirishima gladly accepts. Bakugo doesn't let go of his hand and walks them out of his room to the kitchen.

"Also, I'm sorry for blowing up the other notes, I didn't know."

"That's okay!" Kirishima squeezes his hand in reassurance.

"I could always write you notes to make up for it." Bakugo offers.

Kirishima grins.

"Nah, just say it to my face."

❤🧡-END!-🧡❤

[izgnanik-a]

I’m obsessed with @bluegiragi ‘s shifter AU and I need to empty my brain out so — what about corvid!Simon and wolf!Johnny?

TW : mentions of dead things and carnivore behavior, corvids are scavengers after all

When they’d met, Corvid!Simon had followed a murder of other corvids he wasn’t a part of. He’d eat their leftovers and remain close to the bunch regardless of the social disconnect.

Wolf!Johnny was an aggressive beast who didn’t like even the birds after his meal until he was full. But he was a dirty thing—a tick infested mess from going out into the rough. No matter how much he scratched, they didn’t budge.

Corvid!Simon saw his snack in those ticks. He was quick about it, landing on Johnny just as he sat down to relax or eat and he’d unhook a tick before Johnny bucked him off. Growling and snarling, and he’d itch the open wound where the blood-thick tick had lived. Simon did this a few times before Johnny realized he was helping. It didn’t help the pain though. But being tick free was better than being constantly exhausted and hungry.

Wolf!Johnny benefits from Simon’s oversight. When Simon catches wind of a carcass, he’ll circle around it like a vulture and bring Johnny directly to it. Johnny always keeps on his toes, glancing up towards the black corvid so he doesn’t lose sight of him. Listening for the flutter of his wings. When Johnny cracks open the ribs of the carcass, Simon will feast on the still warm insides alongside him.

Corvid!Simon likes to pick at Johnny’s fur, taking out tuffs of his shedding coat and tuck it into a nest he’s made for himself if they stay in one place long enough. Johnny doesn’t mind but when the bird’s not careful, he’ll pull intact fur and Johnny snaps his jaws to bicker at the pesky corvid who should be careful.

Wolf!Johnny gets bored sometimes, and he’ll want to play with the smaller corvid despite his size. He pounces after the panicked bird, scaling trees to get at him, and flashing his belly and paws on his back as Simon wails and berates him.

When Simon gets bored, he’ll swoop down while Johnny is walking and clip his talons across his back. Pinching bits of fur and causing the wolf to yap and huff, being unable to catch the bird in flight. Or he’ll tug at the wolf’s tail, just to get him to move a little faster.

Johnny has kept the horned owl attacks at bay by just being around Simon, being his natural predator. But when the bird is alone, his first instinct is to dive for Johnny when he’s being targeted.

It’s not often, but Johnny will let the bird sit on his back when they’re moving. It’s more common for Simon to sit on his back when he’s sleeping with his face tucked into his wings. But considering Johnny is a rowdy sleeper, constantly shifting on his belly and kicking his feet—it’s more usual for Simon to sleep beside him.

I just love corvids and wolves and I needed to spew.

Fic masterlist

[zeroducks-2]

Trick or Treat! I think we are missing some sladick for this game o3o did you happen to write about Slade blackmailing Dick into having sex with him, Dick is a small little bird and he's pretty scared by it but can't say no? o3o If you did that'd be great!

Look, I *happened* to have exactly what you asked me! What a coincidence! I definitely did not to it just now, just for you!

(TW: RAPE. NSFW under the cut. Dick is an adult even if he's been Nightwing for only a short time)

«You can look at me, kid.» The man says and Dick can feel his single eye sweep over him, even hidden by the white lens of his mask. «Staring at the ground won't make me disappear.»

Dick is way too focused on breathing. The moment he feels a touch caressing up the sides of his legs his body seizes, and he's swatting the other's hands away without thinking.

«Backing out?» Slade is smiling under the mask, it's easy to tell. A palm sneaks behind Dick's back to press just above the curve of his buttcheeks, and just like that their chests are pressed together. The armchair is so wide Dick can comfortably straddle the man's thighs, his own knees resting on the cushion, but he feels so exposed like this.

«No, no. I'm not backing out.» Dick manages to breathe out, telling himself to calm the fuck down. He can do this. And even if he can't, he has to. And even if he didn't have to... he's not in a position where he can defend himself anymore, or even run, since his utility belt got taken away and his escrima sticks are lying on the floor on the other side of the room.

«Then see that you behave.» The man replies nonplussed. «I can tear this pantyhose off of you, or you can take it off yourself. Your pick. My patience is finite though, you better keep it in mind.»

«I'll do it.» Dick replies hurriedly and straightens up on his knees, if anything so that he'll be able to still have his clothes intact when this is over. «I'll behave.» He adds, fearing that if he doesn't comply enough the other won't keep his word. «I just...» He doesn't know what to say. He did not expect this turn of events. He'd like to tell himself he always has a plan B but that's for when he can actually plan around the circumstances, and now the circumstances are "either you have sex with me or the other little bird dies", going by Slade's words.

«Are you going to tell me you're a virgin?» The man observes. Dick managed to unzip the back of his suit and is pulling it off of his shoulders, letting it rest around his hips. Hands come up again and cup the swell of his muscles, a thumb not so casually going over his nipple. «I wouldn't believe you.»

«I'm not.» Dick rolls his eyes. Yeah, the other surely wishes. «Let's just get this over with so I can have the boy back, and we go our separate ways.»

«This is not a contract, little bird. There is no way I'm going to make this-» The stretchy fabric of the Nightwing suit gets pulled down enough to uncover the globes of Dick's ass, dragging the underwear along. «-impersonal.»

Dick does his best not to grit his teeth and tense up, not show weakness, ignore just how easily the motion made him feel vulnerable. Slade is still holding the bunched up roll of his suit at the base of his thighs, gives it a tug as if to test if it will spontaneously unfold back up on Dick's ass, but no it won't and so he lets it go.

«That's good. Stay relaxed like this.» It's spoken like a praise to the side of Dick's head and he cringes so hard a small noise escape the tightness of his throat, but beside a very quiet snort the man doesn't comment upon it. «Now be a dear and take off my mask.»

He complies, not particularly fazed at seeing Deathstroke's face, it's not the first time. It's not an especially odd face either; man in his mid-to-late forties, maybe early fifties. Silver fox, light blue eye. No scars, only odd detail is the eyepatch. And the way he's smiling makes Dick's heart stutter.

«You don't need to be so scared, little bird.» He says in a matter-of-fact tone. «It's not like I'm going to hurt you. I'll make it memorable for both me and you, hm.» His hands are moving and one cups Dick's crotch, the other easily spreads one of his buttcheeks. «Now let's get you in the mood.»

«Wait...!» Dick yelps, slightly quivering in the effort of staying still. He resists the urge to hide his face in his arms and searches the man's expression for something yielding, but the truth is that Slade doesn't have a particularly hard look on his face. He seems relaxed and content, like he was watching something mildly enjoyable on the TV after a day's work. «Wait, I'm... I need to know that Robin isn't seeing us.»

«Would that make any difference...?»

«Of course it would!» Dick bites his lower lip and tells himself to tone it down. Being hysteric about it won't help. «It would.» He adds after a deep breath. «He's... he's just a kid.»

«Relax.» The hand on Dick's buttcheek moves up to the small of his back and again pushes him forward, and Dick finds himself pressed into the man's chest. He can feel a gloved palm move up to his soft shaft and gently tug before starting to properly stroke up and down. «He can't see us. In fact, he's sleeping right now.» Dick flinches at the gentle pressure on his tip, shifting to sit more comfortably with his legs spread wider. He's biting his lower lip before he knows it, warmth coming up from his loins. «There you go. Don't think about it, boy... no one can see you but me. I have you all for myself.»

[lexinympho]

Stifling Ravishment

[NSFW, MDNI]

Takami Keigo x gn!reader

Summary: You convince Keigo to let you try something new on him in the bedroom, Keigo obliges at the promise of a good time.

WC: 2.4k

Tags/Warnings: A bit of fluff, smut (overstimulation, handjob, edging, oral male receiving, dry orgasm, sounding kink [pls practice this safely], slight sub Keigo + dom reader), one mention of pee and UTIs

A/N: This one's been brewing in my mind and burning a hole in my drafts for a few months now, and I finally decided to finish it up. I don't see enough rep for this kink, so of course I had to write about it myself-

"Oh fuck me..."

"That's technically what I'm doing, bird boy."

The intensity of the glare you received from the winged man was severely diminished by his current demeanor.

Your hold on Keigo's flushed and half erect dick remains intact. One hand is wrapped around his member while the other is gloved and immobile, keeping the silicone sound in place as he adjusts to the foreign intrusion. His knuckles are white as the sheet he's clinging to for some semblance of respite while his chest is glossed over with sweat from his heavy breathing. You don't bother hiding your delightment for his vulnerable state, internally laughing to yourself thinking of the change between now and earlier when he said he could handle this with ease.

He at first displayed bravado when he confidently agreed to do this, but you knew better and saw the hesitance lingering underneath once he got undressed. The research and mere idea of sticking something in *there* had his resolve waver for a bit, but he still planned to go through with it at the promise of a good time (who was he to say no to something you've been wanting to try for ages). He even somehow convinced you to start him off with the bumpy silicone rather than the smooth titanium you had in mind, but he seems to be taking it just fine. You'll admit though, you didn't expect him to be so receptive, and that only served to make the view before you much more rewarding.

Absolutely alluring.

You broke the consistent sound of his laboured breaths after some time of letting him get used to the rod, "Keigo."

He faintly heard you call his name and he intended to say something in acknowledgement, yet the haze currently flooding his senses leaves him unable to verbally respond. He knows why you called out to him. He's supposed to stay still, but that's much easier said than done when-

"Are you ready?"

"Huh?" Having his thoughts broken so suddenly has his clouded mind playing catch up while trying to decipher what exactly he should be ready for.

"I'm gonna push it in all the way to the ring."

"W-Wait!" He worked to get his breathing somewhat under control while his feathers ruffle behind him with each exhale. The death grip he had on the sheets slackened as he splayed his palms over the heated material, and he nodded once he was ready, not trusting his warbling voice enough to not make him sound like a bitch in heat. There's also the matter of him trying to keep his dick from getting too erect before you finish putting the rod in. You don't bother asking if he's okay like you did minutes ago, knowing that if he wanted you to slow down or stop he'd simply give you the word. You shift in your spot across from him and get into a more comfortable position, opting to lay down on your torso to shamelessly get a closer look, before applying the smallest bit of pressure to the rod's handle.

"Shit-" The curse slipped out without warning as his brain blanked on him the moment it slipped a few measly centimeters deeper. The slick movement was made possible with the copious amount of lube you applied beforehand, as well as the near constant flow of precum at the obscenity of this act. His back arched a bit from the strong tingles that ran up his spine, and he nearly fell backwards without the aid of the headboard and some pillows.

Is he crying? No, just tearing up.

"Baby, you have to relax for me." You spoke softly, knowing he's doing his best to not jolt around too much. You take one hand to rub at his thigh and calm his trembling, the action serving it's purpose by grounding him to the point that only his wings are restless with their frequent twitches.

His watery orbs opened with an involuntary whimper from his lips. He struggles to keep his hips glued to the bed at the feeling of your gentle ministrations combined with the overwhelming pleasure stemming from his lower half. He's well aware of the shameful position he's in, completely bare while you're fully clothed. That's far in the back of his mind with the loud pounding of his heart resounding directly in his ears, yet he's marginally able to hear your whispers of encouragement and finds solace in your tenderness. He's thankful for the lack of condescension and "told you so"s from your side, he's a bit too sensitive and gooey in the head to handle anything like that at the moment.

Those articles did absolutely nothing to prepare him for how fucking good this would feel.

He closed his eyes once again, the action sending a few tears down his cheeks, and the lack of sight made him acutely aware of the rod going further into him. It feels wrong, it feels good, it feel weird, it feels right, his brain struggled to pick a description while it tried to manage his breathing. The smooth ridges of the silicone rod somehow rub against all the right spots with each gentle push and pull you give it. It's going deeper as a result, the realization pulling a deep groan from his chest once he feels the tip near its stopping point. His brain briefly flitted through his earlier research on this sensual act, something about plunging. As concerning as the concept sounded when he first looked it up, his current experience has him wondering if going further would be any better than this. What's life without a few risks?

Maybe we should try tha-

"OH-" his exclamation was interrupted by an endless string of moans, none of which could be muffled due to his slackened jaw. He realized you had let go of the ring at some point during his ruminating in favor of giving him a handjob without warning. You're not applying much pressure in your grip, but the pleased expression you're donning tells him you know that's all you need to drive him crazy. You also know Keigo is beyond the point of restraint judging from his semi-crossed eyes and the near constant bucking of his hips. He's not even aware of his wings being squished into the pillows meant to keep him upright, the bit of typical first time discomfort mixed with the pleasure keeps him distracted.

"Look," You gave a heated smile as the hand you weren't using to slowly jerk him off places itself back on his thigh, "it's all the way in."

In spite of his pulse thumping strongly in his ears, he heard you clearly and opened his eyes with a sniffle to see what you're talking about. Sure enough, the only thing left sticking out is the ring, all 4 inches have disappeared and his pulsating dick looks ready to burst. Something about the sight makes his body heat up and simultaneously calm down.

God, this is humiliating.

You paid no mind to your back growing tired of your stomach down position, more interested in establishing a steady but still slow rhythm of jerking him off while fondling his tightened balls. He immediately let out a cross between a sigh and a moan from the overwhelming stimulation as his thighs trembled uncontrollably, feeling an immense amount of pressure in his lower half warning him of an oncoming orgasm. And yet, as good as this all feels, he found himself craving a bit more to push himself over the edge.

He swallowed upon feeling how dry his throat is and began to ask while squirming in place, "Can I, uh..."

You pulled your attention away from your activites to see him glancing off to the side and pointing at the rod. With a teasing purse of your lips, you pause your ministrations and respond to his half spoken request, "You're getting a little greedy, aren't you?"

With a narrow of his glossed over eyes, he asks impatiently with a hoarse voice, "Can I do it or not?" He quickly tacked on a 'please' when you sent him a certain look at the demanding tone.

Brat. You have half a mind to reprimand him, but you push that urge aside for later and simply tell him, "Knock yourself out~" You watch intently when he eagerly raises a hand to the ring and pulls ever so slightly, built up precum starting to pool a bit around the rod. He took a sharp inhale of breath once he found a pace and threw his head back in utter bliss, making for an enticing scene you couldn't help biting your lip at. You returned to your services and resumed lightly tugging at his swollen cock, occasionally pressing kisses back and forth between his length and tender balls.

"Mmm, fuuuuck, 'm so close~" The build up is undoubtedly much more intense than any orgasm he's had before, borderline painful yet equally pleasurable. Am I a masochist? Gulping for air by this point, his legs quivered around your head as he whines and nearly pulls the rod out for some kind of release, only for you to let go of his dick and say sternly, "Don't."

Your tone coupled with you stopping his action pulled a loud sob out of him, only spurring his tears and high strung emotions, "It hurts, I can't cum!"

The immense delight radiating from you was clear as day when he sent you a look of pure desperation, wings flapping furiously and face drenched by tears and sweat. "I wanna try something real quick, you can cum afterwards, pretty," you stated eagerly.

In spite of his distress at you postponing his relief, he keened at the promise of it eventually coming his way and kept his protests to himself. Though he's confused as to what exactly you want to do to him, you're not saying anything and his only hint is your thumb ever so lightly grazing his perineum. It wasn't until you ground down on it with your digit and forced a guttural sound from him that he figured out your plan for him.

"There it is~"

Oh fuck.

You were merciless in abusing his prostate, pressing down with just the right amount of force to teeter on the line separating 'too much' and 'not enough'. With you deciding out of nowhere to slowly lick a stripe up his dick at the same time, you had the grown man right where you wanted him, overwrought by pleasure and pleading for respite as he tries (and fails) to suppress his frenzied movements. It didn't take long for the pent up tension to snap weirdly, resulting in him throwing his head back with a long pornographic moan. It felt amazingly terrible if one were to ask him how a dry orgasm felt. You'd expect the pleasure to end right there, but the sensation of nothing being able to bypass the rod was pure torture, akin to being trapped in a neverending loop of arousal with no way of being sated. It also doesn't help that you're still going-

"Fuck, fuck, too much!" He shot a hand out to hold yours and subsequently stop your reign of terror for a little, though it did little to quell his fever ridden frame or calm his quaking. You decide to cut him some slack when he appears to be in a serious internal debate over letting you continue or pulling you away entirely. You don't give him much breathing time when you finally grasped the ringed handle of the rod and pulled on it, the leisurely pace being downright torturous for him since you started doing so without warning. You would've wanted to wait until he'd gone mostly flaccid to pull it out, but patience is nonexistent for you (and him based on his expression), and the rod's flexible enough for this anyway.

The instant it's completely out, you take half of him into your drooling mouth and pump the rest, knowing he'd require little to no effort since he was long overdue to cum. And you were right, he lurched forward and unintentionally shoved you further down his cock by pushing on your head, giving you a minuscule amount of room to prepare yourself for the copious strings of cum shooting down your throat. The loudly alleviating sobs he let out overshadowed your gulps and groans of slight displeasure from the unwarranted manhandling; Keigo's disposition made the experience more bearable though, and it wasn't all that detestable if you were being honest with yourself.

You didn't stop sucking on the bulbous head until he wearily threw himself back into the pillows, his weakened arms pushing at your head with each overstimulated jolt of his hips. Once you relented, you sat yourself up to lean forward and peck his lips, "You okay? That was pretty intense."

His overworked vocal chords felt the strain of reaching tones and volumes he wouldn't normally touch, not to mention his body catching up on the air it lost out on during all of this. But he responded anyway, "Good, 'm good..."

"You did good, too. Thank you Kei'." You placed yourself beside him and pulled his body to you for the much needed tlc it deserved, wiping his face with a tissue you grabbed on your way towards him. He obliged and let you do as you please, wrapping his arms around you and letting his body go lax from your loving whispers of praise coaxing him into a clearer headspace. It didn't take too long for him to regain some clarity with the help of your touches and a couple sips of the bottled water on the nightstand, "Y'know it almost looked like you enjoyed this as much as me."

A breath akin to a laugh escaped you as you kissed at his hairline, "Well, it was something I'd been wanting to see in person." A beat of silence passed between the both of you, only scarcely broken by Keigo's breaths stabilizing and two mutual whispers of 'I love you's, before you spoke, "Oh yeah, you gotta pee after that."

Keigo removed his forehead from your collarbone to give you a scrutinizing look, "I was literally about to fall asleep."

"Love you too pretty boy, let's take a bath while we're at it." Though it was a little comedic seeing his sleepiness snuff out his usual attention to aftercare, you'd prefer to avoid any accidental mishaps of UTI's.

He got up with a huff, but listened to you and followed you to the bathroom on his incapacitated legs (he did kind of have to pee after you mentioned it).

©lexinympho 2022, please do not edit or repost my works anywhere on this platform or another

[criticalrolo]

who wants to read how Kestrel and Willow first met. @actionsurges this one's for you

ethical methodology, 3.7k words

“Shut the door behind you,” General Tidon says, not looking up from the mess of scrolls and maps spread across his desk.

Willow already knows that this assignment will be different from the others – there had been no need for secrecy when she’d been summoned to the fort before. She turns her back to close the door and whispers the incantation to detect Tidon’s thoughts, keeping the hand motions subtle and concealed beneath the folds of her purple traveling cloak.

Tidon’s surface level thoughts open up to her like a book. The usual frustrations are there, as they always are when she gets called in for a difficult case. However, he is also unusually excited, a bright spark of energy flaring to the top of his mind in a manner that seems almost… giddy.

She takes a seat opposite the general. “Your message said this was urgent. What happened?” 

He looks up, and detecting his thoughts confirms that yes, it is a flash of discomfort and unease that dashes across his face when he makes eye contact with her for the first time. Not enough to bury the odd mixture of irritation and anticipation he’s projecting, but enough for her to notice. 

“Nearly two weeks ago, a squadron patrolling the western border of our territory captured one of the enemy’s war mages. The boys brought him back in for questioning, and it would have been a standard enough process, except one of them recognized the little bastard.”

Willow has been called in to work on a few of the enemy’s Birds in the past, each of them with well constructed mental wards that had taken a few tries to unravel. They’re challenging, but not unbreakable or incredibly exciting. Not enough to explain the urgency with which she was called upon or the way Tidon is practically vibrating in his chair.

Tidon slides a few sheets of parchment towards her: intel about their newest prisoner. She picks it up and starts flipping through the pages. 

“This one’s calling himself Kestrel. We can’t find any other name he goes by, so we don’t have any leads for family or outside connections to mess with. My boys swear they recognized him as the mage that cast the temporal magic we’ve had hell trying to deal with in the past month.”

Willow looks up sharply from the intelligence file. “You believe he’s a chronurgist?”

“Quara thinks he’s the chronurgist, actually. First person to actually manage it on his own outside a lab.”

The mention of Tidon’s blood monk doesn’t fill her with confidence, but it certainly has Tidon worked up. He’s even moved past his initial discomfort at seeing her enter the room. Willow’s fingers linger on Kestrel’s file. He’s apparently only 22 years old. 

“I take it she’s been working him over downstairs to no avail.”

“Questioning hasn’t proven very fruitful, despite Quara’s more colorful attempts. The problem for her is we need a fully intact mind to explain the details of chronurgy, and she’s had issues with the preservation of mental faculties in the past.”

“You’re saying you need a scalpel instead of your usual sledgehammer for this particular venture.”

Tidon visibly twitches when she says the word scalpel. Gods, she’s weird, he thinks. Out loud: “It will be double your usual commission fee, as well as access to any and all of the army’s resources that you’ll require, in exchange for the complete extraction.”

The offer of a blank check doesn’t completely disguise the strange sting of confusion that runs through her when she hears herself in Tidon’s thoughts as “weird.” Her face betrays nothing as she stands up from the table. “For something this important, it will likely take a few days of work. Maybe a full week.”

“Take your time to make sure it’s flawless, and you’ll have everything you need from us. I’m sure you remember the way below ground? I want you to get started right away.” Tidon stands as well, gesturing for her to follow him out of the room.

Wind howls outside the stone walls as Tidon leads her through the hallways and to the large oaken door at the entrance to the dungeon. There must be some sort of silence spell cast on it, because as soon as he pulls it open, Willow can hear a distant screech that sounds…ongoing. 

Tidon goes to light a torch, but Willow pulls out her scalpel and creates a ball of purple light to guide them both down the stairs. He gives her a nod of appreciation, but that tinge of discomfort at the sight of her scalpel is still there. 

The stairs are cold, even with Willow’s light and the torches blazing with blue fire ensconced on the walls. Willow exhales, and can see her breath in front of her. Trembling from the cold will be a major problem while attempting brain surgery in a cellar.

As she goes to ask Tidon to provide her operating room with some sort of heating apparatus, her detect thoughts spell picks up on the low murmur coming from inside the cell at the base of the stairs. Whoever is inside has heard their footsteps, and is desperately begging the Gods that they will pass him by. Willow closes her mouth and doesn’t speak, although she’s not exactly sure why.

A dark hallway stretches before them. Occasional whimpers are audible behind solid locked doors, although whoever was screaming earlier seems to have stopped. Tidon ushers her along briskly, and not a single thought of his strays towards the people locked away down here. 

He stops in front of a cell with blue light streaming out from underneath the door and unlocks it with a heavy iron key. The door creaks open. He sticks his head inside and says, “Quara, your reinforcements are here.”

“Very well – I was just finishing up.”

Tidon jerks his head at Willow, motioning her inside. She steps through the doorway with her purple light and immediately begins detecting two new sets of thoughts: the nearly meditative thrum of the albino woman in brown robes whose hands are coated in a few layers of congealed blood, and the sharp spike of frazzled panic from the battered red haired wizard tied to a table in front of her.

“A pleasure to see you again,” Quara says, giving Willow a serene smile. Her thoughts betray her – the woman is livid that Willow has arrived to take over. “I was just speaking with Kestrel here about the importance of honesty and the healing power of blood and truth spilled before the light of the Gods.” 

Quara’s interior dedication to her god of blood is blazing and nearly overwhelming. If Willow didn’t dislike her so intensely she might have found her fascinating. Instead, she takes a moment to look over her new subject. Kestrel’s red hair hangs limp around his pale face, and she can see the odd angle of his left knee as well as the blood soaking through his torn shirt. He stares back at her, vivid purple eyes meeting her dark red ones. She hears the rapid-fire string of questions that shoot through his mind well before he coughs and asks in a thin voice, tight with pain, “Who are you?”

“My name is Dr. Willow Amaryllis. I am a brain surgeon and neurology researcher at the nearby university.”

“What…” He has to pause to cough and tries to inhale. His thoughts scatter at the influx of pain shooting through broken ribs before he can gather himself again. “What sort of brain surgeon ends up working for the army?”

“One who doesn’t wish to cause you any more pain.” Willow nudges Quara out of the way so she can sit down in front of Kestrel. “I know you doubt that, but it is the truth.”

“We won’t have to get Dr. Willow here involved if you just tell us what we want to know,” Tidon says from the doorway.

Kestrel’s eyes widen. “What does that mean?”

“I have developed safe methods of information extraction, directly from a patient’s mind, which are painless and seamless. If you do not wish to give up the information willingly, then I will remove it from the source myself.”

The frantic thoughts racing through Kestrel’s mind are a bit distracting, although Willow is attempting to be reassuring. “The process is painless. Your consciousness will be kept safe for the duration of the procedure.”

“No, you can’t –” 

Quara comes up from behind Willow and drives a fist into Kestrel’s face so quickly Willow can hear his neck snap to the side. “It is not up for debate. Tell us your methods, or Willow will tell us for you.”

“Be careful, Quara,” Tidon snarls. “We need that brain whole and undamaged.”

Kestrel pants and spits a globule of blood out onto Willow’s hand. “Fuck you. You won’t learn anything from me.”

“Very well.” Willow raises her scalpel and begins to cut her first spell into the air. “I will be placing wards in your mind to bind your consciousness far away from here. As long as you remain in that place, no harm will come to you.”

Kestrel attempts to say something else, but his scattered mind capitulates to her spell quite quickly, and his eyes roll back into his head. Willow mentally tugs on the magical tether created between her mind, his, and their physical bodies. Everything seems to be in place.

“I’m getting started,” she says. “Bring down some food, water, and probably a blanket or two. We’ll be down here for a while.”

“Careful with that one.” Tidon gives her a nod and heads out of the room.

“I think I’ll stay,” Quora says. “I find meditating in these halls clears the mind like nothing else.”

“As long as you do nothing to distract me. This is a delicate process, and any interference could be disastrous for me and for him.”

Quora says nothing, but gives her a disquieting smile before kneeling in the corner of the room and closing her eyes. Willow resists the urge to roll her eyes and turns her focus back to her subject. She’ll only have to make one small cut for her spell to gain access to the inner workings of his mind. She carefully parts the center of his hair and makes an incision behind his hairline, so there won’t be any visible scarring he’ll have to deal with.

A drop of blood runs down Kestrel’s face. Willow touches his forehead, raises her scalpel, and begins.

The sensation of switching from the vividness of the real world to the fractal patterns and jumbled biological projections of a mental landscape has always been soothing to Willow. She is in a place where physical reality is secondary to intentions and will. Here, she can reach out with her magic and use the natural flow of her thoughts to guide along neural pathways to whatever information she seeks. Kestrel’s mind is complicated and restless beneath her fingers as she starts to prod the network for information about his chronurgy and where it comes from. 

The cells twist and jerk, rejecting her search, but she knows the way these building blocks function, and how to be as unobtrusive as possible. She molds her shape in this place to resemble a curious internal seeker, and not a threat, before reaching out with her scalpel again. This time she can tug on a mental thread and follow it where it leads, as though she is simply another thought racing through Kestrel’s head. After sifting through what feels like hundreds of mental threads, her guiding impulse comes to an abrupt stop.

She examines the neuron her scalpel has settled on. Nothing extraordinary jumps out at an immediate glance, other than the barest trace of the temporal distortion magic she’s on the hunt for. She carefully peels back the myelin sheath to get a better look at the axon. There’s no magic in this neuron in particular, but it certainly passed through this way. It’s a start, at least.

As she thinks this, she feels Kestrel’s consciousness start to press against her own from far, far away. 

Be still, she projects. I have a scalpel inside your head. Unexpected movement will cause you damage and pain.

Instead of quieting down, Kestrel’s mind starts to thrash wildly. The landscape around her begins to shudder and recoil from her touch. He comes alarmingly close to breaking through the barrier between the real world and the deeper world he should be sedated within when Willow severs the link and blinks open her physical eyes.

“I said,” she says, placing her hands on both sides of his face to hold him steady, “be still.”

“Did you find it?” Quara asks from her position on the floor. 

Willow doesn’t bother giving her an answer, and instead adjusts Kestrel’s head on the table. “Throwing yourself about while I have a knife in your head will only cause you problems. I have no desire to cause you pain or brain trauma, and the only mind you will be damaging is your own.”

Kestrel locks eyes with her, says nothing in response to her words of caution. She thinks she sees a glint of… something strange, wavering in his expression. Her detect thoughts spell has worn off, so she’s not exactly sure what he’s thinking, and she doesn’t want to cause him excessive pain by prodding the sore area she’d just ripped them both away from. 

End of day one, she notes to herself. No further progress.

Day two, no further progress.

Day three, no further progress.

“What are you doing?”

Quara has stuck her hands two knuckles deep in a cut slashed into Kestrel’s abdomen. She turns around to give Willow a wan smile even as Kestrel writhes on the bloodstained table.

“Your methods have been taking too long. I thought I’d encourage him by reminding him of our other strategies for extraction.” Her smile is yellow against the sickly pale white of her skin. “Besides, my god has been lacking for tribute this past week.” 

“Step away from him,” Willow says harshly. “He’s under my care now, not yours.”

Quara contritely pulls her hands away, raising them in surrender. Kestrel makes a choking sound as blood spills out of his stomach. 

Willow waits for Quara to step away from the table, then hurries forward to press her hands against the gash. It’s shallow and non-life threatening, but the edges are clearly red and irritated. Kestrel jerks beneath the pressure.

“Don’t worry,” Willow says calmly. “I have plenty of experience with stitches and wound sterilization to prevent infection.”

Kestrel gazes up at the ceiling with glassy eyes. “Oh, I’m sure you do.”

Willow sighs, keeping one hand pressed to his chest while digging through her tool bag for her suturing kit. “This sort of cruelty is unnecessary. My methods of information retrieval are much more humane.”

Kestrel lets out a sharp bark of hoarse laughter. “My god, you really believe that, don’t you?”

“Of course I do. Cutting apart flesh to force someone into divulging information is barbaric when there are much safer direct options.”

He sighs, twitching when she starts sewing the first stitch, and lets his head fall back with a thud against the reddened wood. “Hardly seems any different to me.”

Day four, no further progress.

Day five. Day six. No further progress.

“There has to be something you can do to speed this up,” Tidon grouches, crossing his arms and leaning against the cold stone walls.

“You could always let me do some of the work,” Quara says. She is kneeling quietly in the corner, far away from the table in the center of the room. 

Willow stops her scalpel mid casting. Kestrel’s mind hovers in a halfway space, partially concealed behind the protective barrier. “Your work is questionable at best in this case, Quora. Trying to find information when half of his neurons are flooded with pain signals makes my job exponentially more difficult.”

“Quora won’t be touching him again, not after last time,” Tidon says wearily. “But in the meantime, isn’t there anything you could do that would give you a bit more direction?”

Willow hesitates, scalpel still hovering in the air. “I suppose… if we allowed his consciousness a little bit more freedom, his automatic thoughts would be more likely to direct me to the source of his power. However, any degree of consciousness during a surgical procedure runs the risk of causing him pain or trauma.”

“Do I seem like someone all that concerned about causing pain to a prisoner?” Tidon says, raising an eyebrow.

Something twinges deep inside Willow’s heart, but she ignores the feeling. “You must understand: trauma and pain can warp memories and recollection. It could damage the thoughts I am attempting to extract. And you wanted this procedure to be flawless.”

“I also wanted the procedure finished days ago. The benefits we stand to gain from even some information on actual chronurgy are worth the risk.” Tidon’s voice is harsh and decisive. “You have new instructions, Dr. Amaryllis. Use the partial consciousness method and get us those notes.”

For a split second, Willow considers refusing. Kestrel’s mind is already hanging in limbo between the real world and the subconscious, poised on the edge of a knife for her decision. 

Finally, she nods. “Very well. I will do my best to keep this as clean as possible.”

“I don’t care about clean, I care about results.” Tidon’s imperious stance relaxes. “You may proceed.”

Willow takes hold of the magical tethers connecting their minds to their bodies. They feel different this time, now that she’s keeping Kestrel a bit more grounded in his physical form. While constructing the magical barrier keeping his mind safe, she factors in windows for him to see through. Not nearly enough for him to escape from without wreaking massive havoc on his mind, but enough that his consciousness should be able to provide her with impulses and directions on her search.

Descending into his mind feels clumsier than usual. The natural pathways she is used to traversing without effort shift and sway and change direction abruptly, as though they can’t decide what to focus on. However, there is a heightened awareness to the landscape that she instantly knows she can direct. 

Where is the source of your magic? She asks.

Almost instantly she can feel an automatic response from Kestrel’s mind. The surge of an electrical impulse shoots off through the neural pathways, and she follows, heading deeper and deeper into the recesses of his mind. He’s done a decent job hiding behind barriers and wards, but chasing the automatic nature of his thoughts is childishly easy. 

A bright light made up of scattered golds and blues and purples glows in the center of a mess of neurons. 

There you are, she thinks. 

And then, Kestrel decides to wreak havoc.

Before she can react, Kestrel’s conscious mind flings itself forward at the barrier, shattering it and sending sprays of untamed psychic magic flying everywhere.

Stop – you’ll hurt yourself! Willow shouts wildly, trying to reign in the surge of magic.

I know, a grim thought answers back. 

Willow understands his plan the moment he throws himself forward onto her scalpel, impaling his mind on her blade. She reels back, trying to untangle herself from the web of neurons before Kestrel’s mind goes into meltdown. Distantly, she can hear someone screaming as Kestrel cuts his source of power to ribbons and tears himself in half.

She severs the tethers between them, rocketing back to her physical body right before Kestrel explodes in a surge of white hot energy. She only has time to think oh fuck – 

A high pitched ringing in her ears is the first thing she’s aware of. Her cheek is pressed against stone that is frigidly cold, almost like it has been coated in ice. When she blearily opens her eyes, she can only make out the blur of the cell floor and a figure trying to free itself from the table it’s tied to.

She blinks away the blood trickling down into her eyes, and the world lurches into a bit more focus.

The figure on the table – it looks like Kestrel, but she instantly knows that something is severely wrong with him. Invisible wind whips around someone who looks to be made of shadows, a half figure stradling this world and the next. He turns his head towards her, and his eyes have been replaced by shining cold lights. A jagged fissure splits his forehead down the middle, spilling blue light across the bloodied table. 

As she watches silently, the figure pants and gasps before coming to a shuddering halt. He freezes, takes in one deep breath, and exhales slowly. The shadows melt away, and Kestrel reappears on the table. Blood is spurting from his nose and ears, but he is focused completely on stretching his fingers towards the bloodied scalpel lodged in the wood of the table. After a few seconds of straining, he catches it and yanks it free, slashing through the ropes and tumbling awkwardly free to the ground.

Willow remains slumped against the wall, watching him through half-lidded eyes as he drags himself over to Tidon’s body and feels around for his ring of keys. He pulls it off the general’s belt with a gasp of triumph, then turns to look at her.

His wild purple eyes lock with her own. She blinks at him slowly. She can’t think of anything to say. 

Kestrel tosses the scalpel towards her like it’s burning him. It clatters to the ground. She wants to reach out for it, but she can’t find the energy to move her arms just yet. The floor is coated in ice and blood. 

As Kestrel stumbles his way towards the door and begins fumbling for the right key, she closes her eyes. There’s nothing she wants to do more than simply let herself drift back to sleep and not think about what she’s just done. The door creaks open behind her, and Kestrel’s staggering footsteps run away. 

[futureplayboibunnie]

‘Insatiable’

Dr Strange x Avenger! Fem! reader

friends (lowkey enemies bc i’m a slut for rough Stephen) with benefits dynamic babyyy

smutty slut smut with a drizzling of fluff and angst

MDNI or i’ll tear you limb from limb xxxx

You were waiting for him, like a dog with a bird sheathed between it's teeth, like a cat bringing a rat to its owner in leu of a present. You waited for Stephen, facing into the abyss that is your apartment door; ready to get the good fucking you've been desperate for all week. You were an Avenger, he was an Avenger. ..being collegues does overlap with the friends with benefits dynamic, but the problem is you weren't even friends.

Not mortal enemies either, you just harboured an unlikely distaste towards him and his arrogance and it was likewise with him towards you. However, his self-serving and his controlling nature was absolutely heaven sent and incredibly tailored to your tastes in the bedroom; so incredibly tailored to your tastes it was like he read your mind. You just wanted someone, anyone to just take the lead in the bedroom for once, you were becoming sick and borderline exhausted of you always being on top or always being the one to actually do something. Stephen challenged that stereotype. He came swooping in and knocking you off of your feet, you clocked that it was probably because of the growing heated tension between you beforehand and what made it even more absurd is that it wasn't even sexual tension at first..

——————-

You needed to get Stephen alone to scold him and berate his literal insanity after the tricks he pulled today. You were fuming, eyes twitching and all at his stupid fucking dispostion, his distrust towards you and the way he always has to hold the moral high ground as if his moral compass is so intact stung you. He almost got you killed, your tolerance was high and you firmly believed it so but today was the wrong day to fuck you over and you had to give him a piece of your mind and not let him get away scott free like the others did.

You dragged him by the scarlet cloak while the rest of the Avengers were getting ready to put this irritating cold sore of a day behind them as they stormed off to their respected rooms without a peep in the Avengers Compound. The arguments had already taken place on the field and feelings were hurt and insults were thrown around but you weren't done with Stephen. You pulled him to the confines of your room and a few attacks of your unsavoury actions were sprayed through the air, reminding you of things you already knew about yourself; slamming the door shut, you were left alone with Stephen Strange.

'What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you still whining about this?' His voice was just below a yell, eyebrows and lips creasing to form an angry frown.

'You still have yet to admit that you were wrong. Stephen, this isn't some playground where we can kiss and makeup after a petty argument you could have killed me and you're not showing an ounce of remorse for what you've done to me.' Your wild look met his, crossing your arms and slowly closing the gap between you so you could like him directly in the eye. Hoping to find a glimpse of humanity or guilt.

‘Oh yes, we're kissing and making up right now, you can't keep me here.’ He spun and headed for the door but there you were leaning on the door, desperately attempting to not let him go...you meant leave.

He stared down at you and your breathing became more shallow.

"You could have killed me.' You reminded.

'But I didn't.' He quickfired.

'Stop acting like a fucking child.’

"Stop acting like brat.’ He said lowly, his eyes thin and glassy. You spotted a wicked gleam to the black of his pupil and it sent a unnerving shiver to your spine. You had never heard Stephen's voice reach that deep of a level, the rich baritones of his cadence becoming excessively clear.

All you could do is blink up at him dumbly.

You stilled and he noticed, of course he noticed.

In a frezy of unfiltered fury and growing irritation at such an absurd reaction to something so stupid, you placed your hands on his chest and pushed him hard. He let out a dry gasp at such a ballsy response.

‘Fuck you.' You shouted.

You strained against him, seeking to shove past him but his large hands grabbed at your arms, pushing you back to the door and framing you against it.

'Let go of me Stephen! Let me the fuck go!' You panted and screamed at him, waving and shaking at your hands making every effort against him to stop your struggle. Eyebrows knitting together in vain as he ultimately had the last laugh, powering over you whilst pinning your hands against the door.

Your heart dropped into your lungs, letting a defeated gasp escape from your throat in the process. You were embarrassed at how your body was reacting to such a situation. You hated that you felt aroused at this inviting and delicious power play between the man that you felt a bubbling loathing for. The problem was is that this was the kind of dynamic you were craving...in bed, and here he was giving you a little taste of such a thing.

Stephen's mind was turning into static due to having you in such a compromising position, you and him didn't get along at the best of times and this was switch up from the norm. His oceanic eyes scanned your face through darting from feature to feature. He knew you were pretty. Scratch that it was something that everyone reminded him of, every man you interacted and toyed with wanted you stubborness and all. Stephen's eyes lingered at your lips a lot longer than what was socially acceptable, your lips parted and let out a prolonged breath that had been held hospice in your lungs for a while. His grip tightened against your wrists and you stifled a moan.

Your face whipped to the side as well as leaning your head on the door startled by the intense eye contact Stephen was bestowing on you. You had to admit his eyes were glowing with a glorious vigour. The bluest of blue.

The skin of your neck was exposed for him and he had to stuff down the urge to kiss and bite at it. He was mad at himself for wanting to do that, especially with someone as bitter as you.

He'd get you sweet for him, in time.

He shook the thought out of his head as quickly as it came.

Without thinking, he leaned in to the base of your neck and his hot breath encompassed the skin there, tickling the tips of your eyes during.

'You should be grateful I had such initiative to save your life.' He muttered.

Stephen became increasingly irate as he knew you weren't listening to him, you had your ears cut off at everything he said on purpose. His left hand unpinned yours and came up to pinch at your cheeks to force you to stare at him in the eye and your eyes widened, noticing that his hand was cradling your face upwards in such a rough fashion, something that you'd seen only in erotic films. You'd never experienced it in real time.

‘Look at me.' He gritted raggedly. You let out an exasperated huff through your nose as a response but you were quite literally melting into him.

'Go ahead Stephen. Shut me up, go on. I dare you.' Your eyes casting down to his lips, hoping he would get such an obvious hint. You were sure your brain wasn't in your head at this moment in time.

He was willing to take such a desirable challenge.

His lips collapsed into yours at such a fast rate, your mind was just reeling already. Lips against lips friction shooting through you both deliciously. Stephen could feel your heartbeat twitching in your lips and it aroused him more than it should have, you opened your mouth begging to just slip his tongue to explore the depths of your throat. His lithe muscle licked at you and you moaned out such a sweet noise for him and he felt his cock harden already.

He pulled you off of the door by grabbing you by the waist and dragged you to your bed, lips still connected as if he would lose his mind if he let go. He sent the Cloak of Levitation to hang itself on the otherside of the room as he quite literally threw you on the bed with no care to where you were placed. You let out such a cute little gasp at his exertion.

You couldn't wait for him to give you what you were begging for.

——————————

And here you were, waiting once again for him wearing a black lacy lingerie set, in a desperate attempt to impress him for another night of lust filled passion even though most times you'd just wait for him naked.

Ever since that first night, you had promised it was just a way for you both to relieve the pent up anger and sexual aggression and that it was strictly between friends, no relationship. Overly cautious to not be found out by the others on the team, instead of sharing these nights in your own room at the Avengers Compound you shared them in your apartment instead. You felt like a teenage girl the way you were tying to impress him, you were becoming more and more needy for him these days and he hadn't been able to give you what you had been craving for a week considering he was busy with the Sanctum Sanctorum and other sorcerer obligations. Darkness encased most of your apartment, only a few ambient lamps lighting a few corners up.

A week you had been missing him, a week you haven't had him.

You detested the way he was beginning to mean this much to you, it was strictly just sexual pleasure but half of you needed more, wanted more.

You found yourself daydreaming at a nonexistant relationship with Stephen, souls intertwining fully and twin flames being lit. You felt pathetic, truly pathetic.

Lost in your idle overthinking, Stephen knocked at your door but you hestiated even though most time you'd open the door so eagerly. Finally having the guts to open the door, you smirked at the idea he could easily portal here but he took the long way as just a means of politeness even though he shows you the opposite of politness in bed.

The door creeked and showed the absolutely perfect picture of Stephen, he looked more gruff than usual, he looked even more attractive and you often thought that it was impossible. He let out a gutteral groan at the sight of you, so sweet, so willing and waiting for him.

‘I need you.’

He spared no time in kicking the door shut and wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing your neck. You let free a stifled moan, a little adament but within a split second falling deep within him. Your lips met together in a spitfire, tongues tangled already.

He slung his cloak off before hoisting you up and walking you to the bed he got so familiar with alongside your body; memorising every curve, every spot that makes you see shattered starlight and it was beautiful. He was currently angry with himself; for the prolonged amount of time he's spent with you giving you whatever you wanted and you giving him whatever he wanted in return, every position, every kind of dirty talk you both wanted, but you didn't give him what he needed.

Stephen needed to immerse himself in you fully...he needed you to be the most interesting thing about him, he needed you to give him the privilege of being the woman he could hold like water in his hands so softly and tenderly. He needed you to be his: passion, sex, triumphs, downfalls and everything in between.

He threw you on the bed, desperation radiating off of him to be inside of you. He untied his robes, kicked off his boots until he was only left in his pants and he peeked up at you to find you spreading your legs slowly ready to welcome him back home. He nestled between your legs and gripped at your thighs wildly, nails digging into the soft supple flesh. You ruffled up his hair with your fingers and tugged at his scalp; he had to stare at you for a moment before he cemented his lips on yours. You were so effortlessly gorgeous, it's like being enchanting was second nature for you.

'I've had a bad day today, in fact I've had a bad week without you.’ He breathed, staring down at you.

'Take it out on me Stephen, I can take it. Please, I've just missed you.’ You leaned in and kissed at his neck.

'All I could think about this week was being in you.' He groaned as he flitted his eyes shut at your actions: The admission perked you up and it made you beam slightly.

With no time to lose, your lips crashed into his and it was like he was teleported to the high heavens; your lips were coated in a sickly sweet cherry gloss and it spurred him on further. He had to get you naked. In a temper, he placed his hands on the bustier of your lingerie and ripped it off with ease. You let out a sudden whine at the cool air that hit your nipples and he gawked at the way they peaked for him as always. He always remarked at your tits, he thought they looked perfect in your suit.

Stephen palmed at them and flicked your nipples, arousal shot through like wildfire zipping through your core. You were becoming more and more wet but you were always wet for stephen. He kissed your stomach and your libido before tearing off your panties with his teeth. You couldn't control the high pitched pornographic moan that came out of your mouth, Stephen was staring at your glistening pussy and he felt like a kid at Christmas; you always gave him so much of yourself. He was about to eat you out but you stopped him before he could do anything.

‘No, Stephen. Come here, put your cock in me and fuck me crazy, you need this more.’ You whispered breathily, he raised his eyebrow. Again, you’re always giving yourself. He crawled his way back up to you.

"You look like heaven.' He half smilled through hooded lids, observing your hair flowing out on the pillows so delicately, the angles of your face dimly lit by the muted atmospheric light. You blushed bashfully at the comment as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

He kicked his pants and boxers off and positioned his cock to fit inside you so perfectly as always. Your eyebrows knitted in pleasure alongside your gaping mouth as he pushed himself inside of you, placing both hands on the curve of your hips. Pistoning his cock in and out of you, he caught a glance of your face contorting in desperation moaning and panting breathlessly as did he. It was all just indescribable, your pussy was made for him. You were made for him, your bodies fit together so perfectly like a jigsaw puzzle. You kept calling his name and it made him growl in your ear like an animal.

You felt him twitch inside of you indicating that he was about to cum inside of you and the final fleeting touch at your tits did it in for you. You sensed yourself cracking as a white hot wash of euphoria whizzed through you as you came on his cock and in turn it electrified Stephen you both felt intertwined and you felt your tongue form the words you'd regret later.

‘I love you.' You whispered against his lips and he stilled, completely taken aback.

The confession made him lose his mind, he released himself inside of you and groaned into your neck to bite at it. You thought you completely lost him and you'll never see each other the same ever again. He rolled and planted himself beside you and you daren't move an inch, completely and utterly humilated.

'I'm sorry." You panted, unable and far too embarrassed to look him in the eye.

'For what?' He taunted and you weren't sure if you were about to cry or laugh.

"Fuck you!' You got up from the bed and attempted to pad away into the bathroom. Stephen knew he fucked up due to his dumbass response, he shot up and leaned from the bed as his legs dangled from the side.

He caught onto your wrist before you could slip away into the abyss and pulled you back into him. You gasped at him, your only view being Stephen blinking up at you with those beguiling eyes of his. He looked defeated and you knew what he was going to say was going to upset you further. He encompassed his arms down the expanse of the small of your back and your ass, squeezing at it before ultimately slapping at it. It was so unexpected and made your mind melt. You placed your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself.

"You're insatiable. Every time we're spending these nights together, you take and take from me and I leave with a little bit of me staying here forever. But I don't want those little bits staying here, I want all of me here. With you.'’ He admitted with those pretty words of his, your eyes widened and contorted in confusion, unable to comprehend the words that were spelt out in front of you.

'You're kidding right?' You let out a dry laugh, it was all that you could say.

"You're an idiot. You couldn't see what was right in front of you, how much I crave you and how much I just needed to feel you, not just your body but in every other way. It's like you've possessed me and I'm a man of biology and logisitics but what you cast upon me is none of that. It was like you were sent for me by God himself.’ His fingers traced at the back of your thighs and you honestly thought you were dreaming until he planted a kiss on your lower stomach which snapped you right back into reality.

'After that first night it felt like I've always loved you." You admitted, following it with a nervous gulp as it felt like your heart was literally beating inside of your throat.

He pushed him down back on the bed and straddled him, your hair falling down and grazing his face. You kissed Stephen softly this time, a prolonged light peck as if it were between two kids who didn't know what a kiss was.

‘How we've got away with this insanity without the others knowing is beyond me.’ You smiled into his lips and he couldn’t help but laugh at such comedic timing.

——

BRUH ALL I WRITE IS PORN but it’s ethical porn yk what i’m saying

[becauseplot]

dont mind me tripping and falling in here again. but i would also love to hear about botw au. legend of zelda au's my absolute beloved they have me running circles around my room. adrenaline shot straight to the heart nothing digs its claws in me quite like loz and i am so so interested to hear about it!! clingyduo doomed to save the world in every universe,,,, i'm invested already

thank you so much for humoring me, i love botw aus so much theyre aaaa!! aaAAAAAaaAaaAAa!!!!

so yeah this originally started bc an old friend of mine and i were talking and i forget who suggested it but we were like "hey wouldn't tommyinnit as link be so funny? because tommyinnit is like the exact opposite kind of feral-energy of botw link. loud and swears and uncontrollable and headstrong. hylia's most annoying hero." and things just devolved from there. it's fully a Crack Treated Seriously situation because i spent actual months working out lore n worldbuilding and whatnot fhdjskhfdk.

the fic is officially called Well, Excuuuuuuuse Me, Big Man: The BotW AU No One Asked For (or WEMBM for short)

basic layout (as far as i went with it anyway):

tommy more-or-less follows the order of what you're "supposed" to do to to beat the game: plateau->kakariko->hateno->kakariko again->four main regions->master sword->ganon. of course there are a lot of detours and back-tracking and skipping around for hyjinx

main regions/inhabitants are replaced: Zora->Axols (axolotl "hybrids"), Gorons->Piglins, Rito->Elytrians, Gerudo->Enderians

each of the above races have their own cultures that are loosely based off of the game's original counterparts and some mcrp fanon + personal headcanons thrown in. they're customized to incorporate some (mild) minecraft elements!!

old champions: Mipha->Niki, Daruk->Technoblade, Rivali->Philza, Urbosa->Ran (based loosely off of tftsmp Ran, effectively an oc lmao????)

new champions: Sidon->Foolish (Niki's younger brother) and Jack (Niki's best friend), Yunobo->Drista, Teba->Wilbur, Riju->Ranboo

all of their personalities more-or-less remain intact (which is why the fact that i put The Old Man / King Rhoam as Schlatt so fucking funny)

divine beasts keep their names but the creatures change!! Ruta is a glow squid, Rudania is a blaze, Medoh is still a bird (LMAO i might change this because...), Naboris is a phantom

some scattered details

wilbur is both the "new" champion role AND kass' role!! he and tommy meet early on in his journey (at his first visit to Hateno) but tommy doesn't learn about wilbur's heritage (Philza was his great great great grandfather) until MUCH later. they run into each other a lot during their travels.

wilbur also has a hardcore crush on an axol warrior named sally, which tommy teases and embarrasses him relentlessly for

tubbo (zelda-role) keeps zelda's arc of not being able to develop powers. the key difference is that tommy and tubbo are friends before the calamity business starts to get serious, and tubbo's frustration drives a wedge between them

(angst time: clingy duo has a Big Fight during that one sheikah slate Memory on the palace tower bridge, and they never get the chance to apologize to each other before it all goes to shit and tommy dies sacrificing himself to save tubbo.)

techno and phil are old friends from when they'd do colosseum fights together. they haven't talked much for a few years before becoming champions, both too busy with their respective duties at home, but the moment they realize they've both been recruited well, they're inseparable

windbombing, bullet-time bouncing, and shield clipping are canon. don't question it.

champion ran is a dick (think revali) and the only one there they respect is niki because they underestimated her and then she proceeded to floor them during a sparring session (and she didn't even threaten them with a water based attack, it was all skill)

awesamdude (most people call him "sam", he's ranboo's personal guard) has a half brother named awesamnook (most people call him "nook" or "samnook"). he's the Beedle-role and he talks in all caps like an npc ("HELLO TRAVELER." "Why are you shouting---" "HAVE A LOOK AT MY WARES." "Okay---")

bad runs the yiga-equivalent egg cult that, instead of disguising themselves as travelers, simply uses sprouts of blood-red flowers with a toxic pollen to mind-control bystanders into attacking tommy (yikes)

have some highlights from the few chapters i've written of tommy on the great plateau (yes, the entire google doc is written in comic sans)

tommy immediately sassing tubbo's disembodied voice:

tommy is 7 feet from the cave and is shoving things in his mouth:

(I should also mention he has a pet beetle in his pocket named Sir Legs)

tommy has a grudge against the sheikah pedestals, it's a whole arc on the plateau as he slowly comes to love and appreciate the pedestals and what they do for him:

old man J vs tommy's unwavering optimism(bullheadedness):

tommy vs disembodied voices:

tommy vs the first shrine:

tommy meets a monk:

pulling a direct line from philza's botw playthrough for this one:

me when i fast travel:

The loading screen says: "Leaving Comments: Leaving comments on a fic is a great way to make a writer go :D and give them the motivation they need to continue their bullshittery."

also some chapter titles:

[hunterrated]

Akaza Headcanons Part 2

Here's the second part! I had some trouble publishing the first part, sadly my post won't show in all the tags, and I don't understand why. This inconvenience was pretty upsetting for me, that's why it took me so long to publish this secon part, even if it was ready.

Stay tuned for the 3rd part! That being said, enjoy!

•───────•°•❀•°•───────••───────•°•❀•°•───────•

First Encounters

I'll start with an unpopular opinion: Akaza does not respect women.

Lemme be more clear on that. It's not respect, it's nostalgia. The reason why he can't kill women is because there's probably this small fragment of his mind that recalls the love he once had for Koyuki.

It's most likely the memory of his past lover that stops him from killing women, so respect is not necessarily involved.

Does this mean I don't believe he would be respectful towards a new lover?

No, he definitely would

He's best boi :)

All this preamble so I could introduce first ecounters with Akaza, so let's go!

As a Demon Slayer: canonically he would not harm Demon Slayers if they were women.

So just enojoy some chit-chat, if he plays his cards right he may also get some interesting informations?

Should he be intimidating or charming? Maybe both.

But wait, you're a woman of honor, maybe you still wanna fight him?

That's bothersome, but admirable! He sure is up for some game.

Just try to not get too mad when you'll notice he's just avoiding your attacks. Sure, he's swinging his fist at you, but if you pay really close attention, you can see his attacks perfectly missing you.

You yell at him to stop playing with you. And he does listen and start trying to land some hits on you.

Just to knock you out.

Duh, what did you expect?

He may not be vocal about his unwillingness about hurting and eating women, but he's willing to let you off as nicely as possible.

You keep your honor intact, he keeps his morals intact. Win-win situation, hurray!

Or maybe he finds you, and you're already injured.

He thinks long and hard about what to do with you.

But in the end he just can't let you be, you'll die for sure.

If you're the sole survivor he'll pick you up and bring you to the closest city or village.

Doesn't matter how much you complain or scream in his ears, he decided he's gonna bring you in a safe place and he will complete this mission.

But if you're not cooperative, he may start screaming at you back. He has a pretty short fuse afterall. But it will happend only if you're aggressive towards him first.

If you got separated from the rest of your team after a demon's attack, he just brings you back to other Demon Slayer.

He also probably scared the demon off when he arrived.

If you get worried of the possibility that he's tracing your team back just so that he can kill them in front of you, he reassure you with few words and just keeps walking.

"I'll just bring you back. If you want to die so bad look find a real opponent."

He leaves you close enough so the other Demon Slayer can hear you calling for them and leaves.

Actually checks if you're getting rescued and then leaves.

In either case, he may come check on you every now and then. If you survived, you won't waste the possibility he gave you to get stronger, right?

As a Civilian: he actually doesn't have any business with you.

But at some points he finds out the men of the house aren't doing their job, but actually the opposite.

You're being mistreated? He'll remove all of your trouble by eating whoever is being mean to you. Two birds with one stone.

Since he doesn't actually know you, he's not interested in hearing any complains from you, or worse, hearing you cry about what he did.

But in case you're grateful for what he did, he's not looking for recognition either. If you thank him you can hear him whisper under his breath "Fool" as he indulges few seconds more before launching himself outisde of the window, disappearing.

Is this case too he may decide to come check on you, just to make sure his intervention was not in vain.

As a Demon: you're most likely many ranks below him.

I think it's very unlikely he'd approach a weaker demon without a proper reasons. So if one of you two approaches the other maybe it's for sharing informations.

Or you want to ask him to train you? Mind, I think Akaza would train you regardless of what you are, be that a human, a demon or a worm (I may talk about the matter in more details in another post).

So if your battle spirit is strong enough, and you're really convinced you wanna ask an Upper Moon to train you, so be it.

If you're worth it and good company, he'll be back.

Maybe he'll even take you under his wing.

[bloodredx]

Day 6: Reflection

A near perfect bouncing of light off a surface, to cast an image back in the form of what one understands or hopes to understand as a shape of self. But what can be pondered of the self? To be the form that one desires? Even stuck against anatomy or expectation? If one has split down, made new forms, taken and molded the material of the being, are they still the same sense of self? This form never changed, no. Only broke apart. The understanding of what is, what might be, what was is all intact. But thou sees what they want. Would this form be thine own understanding or what this form takes? If in the end, the pieces return, should one remain the same despite the difference in experiences? If made anew, can one claim the product is the same as old?

More importantly, does it matter?

Light against water, glass, metal. Simple property, nothing else. This form no longer holds eyes to See.

--

The glass had finally cleared of the fog from the shower, a few idle beads of water swelling up and sliding down the polished surface of the mirror as they condensed. Bones watched them with little interest, wrapping a towel tightly around his waist. His typical morning nausea hadn’t quite worn off just yet, but the heat of the shower at least alleviated it some. To make matters worse, his skull was throbbing, right at the side of his temple. Pain in the ass.

Rolling his shoulder back in a futile attempt to ease the tension, he squared up at the sink wishing the fog had lingered around just a bit longer. Doing his best to ignore his reflection, he did all his usual hygiene tasks idly humming and moving his feet to the rhythm to keep his mind focused on literally anything other than reality. Exhaustion tugged at his muscles still, that stupid god had him out all night. Cemetery was fine, just a few mages playing with things they shouldn’t have. He smirked slightly at the thought. Gave ‘em a good spook, huh? His fingers ran over the shoddy stitching over his throat. Wound don’t feel too bad today. Should hold for a bit longer.

A hand reached for his hair brush, and once the bristles ran through the first section of his thick, silver, curled hair, he stopped. Too long. He tested it again, timing the length. Ugh. He finally relented to the mirror before him, noting that, yes, his hair had in fact grown down to his shoulders. Bones bit his lip, forcing his eyes away again before he could look at himself longer. He failed, catching sight of his own eyes. The liquid mercury of his irises reflected back images of himself, sliding into that infinite tunnel when mirrors faced each other. His stomach sank. Bones placed a hand over the glass, a dismal attempt at covering his face. “We ain’t doin’ this today.”

Thoughts raced, replacing the image with things lost. The soft features of youth, the dirty blond curls and pale green eyes. The eyes that matched his mother’s. The eyes he should have had, not these obvious indicators of his curse. The fate he couldn’t escape. Maybe the past wasn’t happier, but it was normal, right? He could’ve pretended. He was good at that. Now he couldn’t. Not… not like this.  

Fingers wrapped around a silver set of scissors, delicately etched into the metal were small birds, images of thrushes and meadow grass. Didn’t matter much what was on them as long as they were still sharp. Just gotta shorten it a bit. Don’t gotta look too hard. Take a deep breath. It’s okay. Just… just do it.

With each snip, short locks of hair fell down into the sink, forming a small pile in the bottom of the basin. Ya need ya hair, Mitch. His mother’s voice echoed softly, sadly, in between each cut. Ya need all the help ya can get. Bones’s fingers stopped, if only for a moment, but he pushed forward, finishing the job as fast as he could. A whisper left his throat, laden with guilt. “Ya magic can’t help me now, mama. Forgive me.”

He cleaned the sink, removing the discarded hair to the garbage and polishing the marble to pristine again, clearing away all signs of his deed. Taking a deep breath, he ran his fingers through his hair. Good, much better. Taking a chance, he again looked in the mirror. The cut was bad, uneven on the sides. This wasn’t surprising, should be expected when trying to clip blindly, but that was fine. He wasn’t in the business of impressing people much anyways. Better they left him alone, not get too close. With all the things wrong with him it was easier, don’t have to waste words when no one asks the question.

The old grandfather clock down the hall chimed, the low pitch freeing him from his train of thought. “Right.” Bones dressed himself, relief rushing in as he realized the nausea, pain, and anxiety had begun to slip away. “Gotta get busy. Gotta keep movin’. It’ll pass. It’ll pass.”

Shadows at the door coalesced behind him as Bones left the bathroom, moving in a rush upwards, finally solidifying into the form of raven that landed on the side of the claw-foot bathtub. Its single, emerald green eye didn’t blink, only lowering its head. It has been ten years. Not even a seed of thought to it. Cannot face it. Silver to shine, yet hidden, darkness. The raven jumped to the air, shadows spreading and reaching, regrouping into the form of the God of the End, who crossed his arms and stared into the mirror himself. Their emotionless face didn’t change. This form cannot speak to the nature, yet cannot deny truth. How long then, will it take? Mirtuvi, thou suffers by thine own hands. A shame.

(OC-tober challenge by @oc-tober2022 can be found here.)

[stolensiren]

not just a river // teagan & cass

TIMING: current PARTIES: @teaganmyrick & @stolensiren SUMMARY: teagan comes by the antique shop to check in on cass, and the two have a long overdue heart to heart. CONTENT: brief references to terminal illness

Jonas’ disappearance was coming up on a month, and Teagan wasn’t sure how much longer Cass’s denial was going to hold up. She was a determined person, but even that timeframe would make anyone’s will wane. That was something that the nix found admirable about the girl. Despite the odds, she had a kind of gusto that not many had developed. And maybe it was due to her upbringing. Being tired of bad news that she would falsify good news in hopes of manifesting it to come to fruition. The thought made the nix sigh heavily, her gait slowing with every step she took toward the antique store. 

Teagan had seen that Cass had taken over for Jonas in his absence, so she knew just where to find her on a random weekday in the early afternoon. The bell rang, announcing her presence, and she could’ve sworn that each note echoed for beats long after the silence should’ve met her ears. She was nervous, afraid of what Cass’s reaction would be to Teagan once again attempting to get her to accept that Jonas was gone. It was an outcome she wanted the least, but she knew how to accept hard truths. Had to learn that skill after she found several of her family members dead. It was better to accept than to make empty wishes. That only made the heart lose its strength, and Teagan didn’t have a strong enough heart to hold on like that. 

“Hello,” She waved timidly, her brows pinched together with worry as she stepped closer to the counter. “Been a while, sweet one.” Teagan chose her words carefully, not wanting to give any room for Cass to misinterpret her tone or words. “Are you doing okay?”

The shop felt so much emptier without Jonas in it. Cass had been keeping it up with a desperate fervor, intent on making sure Jonas could come back to find his business intact, but… It was the ‘coming back’ that was starting to worry her. She knew what it looked like. Teagan, Levi, Lil… They all made it pretty clear what they thought the most likely possibility was here. But… It was a hard thing to accept. And Cass was so tired of accepting hard things. 

So she swept the floors. She kept the shelves clean. She moved Jonas’s birds to her apartment, but she left a note on the coffee table saying where they were just in case he came back and went to his apartment first. She told regular customers that he was on vacation, that he’d come back soon, that they didn’t have to worry. And she was a pretty good con artist; she could con herself if she really, really put her mind to it. She knew she could. Even if her shoulders felt heavy, even if the broom weighed a thousand pounds, even if the birds sounded sad when they sang. Everything was going to be fine. Everything had to be fine. Jonas deserved that.

The bell above the front door rang, and Cass pulled herself from her thoughts, forcing a cheery smile onto her face. The expression faltered just a little when she saw who it was who’d entered. She liked Teagan, she really did. Things had been… awkward since the stuff with Levi, and the Jonas thing didn’t help, but Cass still cared about her. But seeing her put the tiniest of cracks in the foundation of her latest big lie, served as a reminder of that notebook and all the things it had said. Still, Cass held that smile. It was really the only thing she knew how to do. “Hi, Teagan,” she greeted. “It has been a while.” I haven’t seen you since my friend killed you and brought you back to life, or since you tried to tell me that friend was bad, or since our mutual friend disappeared, or since… Yeah. It really had been a while. “I’m doing great! How about you?”

Eyes never lied, neither did the subtle notes in someone’s voice. A small betrayal that Teagan often took advantage of. Her lifetime of dancing around words made it quite easy to catch a lie on choice of words alone, but with emotional people like her and Cass, a tone could never lie. “Are you actually doing fine, or are you trying to swallow your fear in hopes of pushing away the…” Tears formed in Teagan’s eyes, and she squeezed them shut to prevent them from falling. Doing so would prove fruitless though, and they fell down her cheeks anyway. “Forget it. I just—I came to check on you and his shop.”

The strain from the ball forming in Teagan’s throat made her jaw tense, the pressure growing stronger when her eyes fell onto the very aisle her and Jonas met in. She couldn’t help the tears then. Taking in a stuttered breath, she looked back at Cass with shiny eyes, wearing the smallest, tight smile. “You don’t have to believe he’s gone. It’s a lot to accept. But…can we at least share that we miss him?”

Teagan was hard to fool. It was the nature of things. Just like there were easy marks, there were hard ones. And Teagan was a hard mark. She called Cass out almost immediately, and Cass’s chest ached with the heaviness of it. Part of her knew, by now, that Teagan was right. Part of her had known since the beginning. But the part that wanted to cling to that false hope was a stubborn one, and it was tempting to hold onto it. “The shop’s good,” she said. “I’m not good at restoring the stuff, but I know how to sell it pretty well. I’m good with pricing.” A benefit of spending so much time as a thief — you got to know what things were worth.

But Teagan wasn’t here to talk about how Cass priced the items Jonas left behind. And, thankfully, it didn’t seem like she was here to insist Cass accept that he had left them behind, either. Hesitantly, Cass nodded. “I miss him a lot,” she admitted quietly. “And Blue. I took his birds to my apartment, you know? He said he bought them for me, anyway. He’s always doing stuff like that.” Present tense. Always present tense.

“The kindest fool to be created.” Teagan smiled and nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly with Cass that their friend did amazing things. Constantly. And even if her friend wouldn’t use the tense she felt in her heart was correct, she wasn’t going to push it. There was only so much a heart could take before it crumbled, and that was the last thing Teagan wanted for Cass. Besides, she was willing to share the pain of longing for Jonas, and that was enough. Everything else would fall into place eventually, and the nix would be there to catch Cass when that inevitable came. For just a moment though, she wanted to honor their friend.

“You know, this was where I first met him. I went through that door and was looking at some little knick knacks. I didn’t think he could see me—I was dead then,” Teagan bit her lip, walked to the aisle and played out the scene with her hands and facial expressions. “He was so scared, but he talked to me anyway. He could’ve…he could’ve ran off or told me to bugger away, but he didn’t.” Jonas was better than most people, and as much as Teagan wanted him back, she knew he lived a good life with a good man. Built a home and made sure to write back to the first one he had created. That was enough for her.

“When I was brought back, he had already wrapped the items I was looking at. He gave them to me the very next day and we had a movie night with juice and popcorn. As if we’d been friends for years.” The crack in Teagan’s voice was impossible to stop then, and she leveled herself by planting a firm hand on a shelf. She shook her head and wiped away what tears she could before facing Cass again. “Apologies. I just miss him terribly.”

“He’s always looking out for people.” It was who Jonas was. Even when Cass had first walked through this door, donning a watch that was definitely stolen and demanding more than he’d be able to sell it for once that fact came to light, Jonas had been kind to her. He was kind when he didn’t have to be. He was gentle when anyone else wouldn’t have been. 

The reminder of Teagan’s death wasn’t a pleasant one; truth be told, it served as a reminder that Cass had done then much of what she was doing now. Even when all signs had pointed to Teagan being gone, Cass had insisted that she was fine. She’d ignored Teagan’s attempts to reach her from the other side because she hadn’t wanted to accept what it meant. She’d made things worse then. For herself, for Teagan. For everyone, probably. That didn’t mean she knew how to do anything different now. “This is where I met him, too. He gave me a job the first time I came in.” Paid her more when she demanded it, made her feel at home. Jonas was good at that. Jonas was still good at that.

There was a lump in Cass’s throat as Teagan went on, only growing as she wiped the tears from her eyes. Why are you crying? She wanted to ask. He’s fine. He’s going to come back. He has to come back. But the words were trapped in her throat, stuck behind her teeth, and she looked away. “Yeah,” she agreed instead, her own eyes threatening to spill over. “Me, too.”

The more reality took a hold on Cass, the more Teagan softened her demeanor. She could hear how much it hurt to push the truth away, have it waiting around the corner to attack her like a cobra. What she feared wasn’t only that Teagan wasn’t lying, but the process of the actual grief itself. Two powerful and destructive beasts that Cass had no intention of releasing on herself. But, there was one thing she always forgot to realize, something Teagan saw from the start. She saw how far the young woman forced herself to go because she thought she’d always be alone, and it was just a habit she couldn’t seem to break. Cass reminded the nix of herself in that regard; always suspecting that solitude was the only option. 

“It’s okay to cry. I mean, look at me, I couldn’t even hold them back the second I stepped in here.” Circling back around, Teagan made her way back to Cass and leaned onto the counter. She reached for her hands and cupped them gently into hers, doing her best to comfort her friend. Regardless of what had happened in the past, Cass still had a place in Teagan’s heart, and really, she couldn’t blame the girl for needing to hold onto any and all people she found. She’d do the same too if she were in Cass’s shoes. “I know this is all hard and scary, but at least we got each other, right? At least we can spread hope and love the same way he’s done with us.”

Grief had never been something Cass was good at. For a long time, it was because there had either been nothing to grieve or far too much of it, depending on how you looked at it. She’d never had a family. Never had parents who loved her or siblings who annoyed her or even friends who provided a shoulder to cry on. And grieving the absence of something wasn’t quite the same as grieving a thing itself. Having something and losing it was so much different than never having it at all. But now… She’d gained so much during her time in White Crest. And, as was the nature of things, she’d lost a lot, too. Her budding friendship with Hikari was cut short too soon by the woman’s disappearance. Teagan’s death — and Levi’s part in it — cut deep in an indescribable kind of way, even when she was back. And now Jonas, who was kind and who cared about her and who dressed his dog up for her birthday and bought birds because he thought she might like them… It was too much. It was all far too much. She wasn’t good at grief. She didn’t want to keep doing it.

“I’m not going to cry,” she said, but the thickness in her voice and the way her eyes shone told a different story. Crying felt like admitting that it was over. That Jonas’s life was over. And Cass wasn’t ready to do that. She didn’t think she’d ever be ready to do that. “I just… I don’t get it. Other people came back. I came back, when I got stuck. So why wouldn’t he? Is it… Did he not want to?” There was a quiet fear to the question, a small terror that wondered did he leave, too? When you’d had as many people leave you behind as Cass did, abandonment felt like the default. It was hard to imagine someone staying when leaving seemed to be all anyone ever did.

There it was again. That betrayal that no one could escape. One’s voice being their one true ally, but also their one true enemy. The cobra of sorrow had wrapped itself around Cass’s throat, and what she said revealed so many things. Jonas being gone forever was one thing, but the idea that he didn’t want to come back was another, and Teagan finally really saw the root of Cass’s denial. She’d been abandoned over and over again, and to have trusted someone to not do the very same, to give them the knife to hold to your gut, and think they’d plunged it in? That was a kind of pain that the nix would want to keep away from too, but Cass’s worries were wrong, and she deserved to grieve properly.

“No,” Teagan stated simply, “Jonas would never have simply chosen to stay from everything he loves.” She reached Cass, and kneeled, cupping the girl’s hands in hers to connect her words in her actions. “That’s what the letters are for, sweet one. He made the best out of something so terrifying. He thought about us every day and spoke highly of our relationships. How could someone who missed everything so dearly have made that decision to stay? To leave?” The tears that threatened to fall from Cass’s eyes grew thicker, and Teagan knew that flow needed to pass the dam so she could grieve properly. She’d help, and she’d be there. Just how Jonas would want it to be. “I don’t know how that damn time shite works, but he was unlucky until he wasn’t. He fell in love, Cass. He fell in love and made a life for himself, and we were still so graciously a part of it. And he will always be a part of ours because we will never forget him.”

People only ever stayed until they found something better. For years, that had been Cass’s experience. Foster families gave her a bed to sleep on until there was another kid who fit into it better, or until she became too much to deal with, or until the money the state gave them for the ‘sacrifice’ of caring about her was outweighed by the issues that came with allowing a broken, damaged child to live inside your home. Jonas wasn’t like that. She knew Jonas wasn’t like that. He wasn’t cruel, wasn’t the sort of man who would abandon one thing for another, wasn’t someone who would consider one kind of love ‘better’ than another. But knowing that and accepting it were two very different things. 

She swallowed as Teagan took her hands, eyes fluttering as she looked up into the light to keep the tears at bay. “How am I supposed to just… Live with that?” It was easier accepting a person’s death when there was a body to prove it. Cass remembered a friend she’d made living on the streets before coming to White Crest, remembered how finding his body in the warehouse they’d been sleeping in made the world cave in on itself but at least provided definitive answers. There were no answers when it was something like this. She didn’t know what Jonas had grown into, what he’d looked like in the end. She didn’t get to know that. And it ached, and it hurt, and it made it so hard to accept that what had happened had happened, but what could be done about it? What could be changed? Swallowing again, she closed her eyes. “Do you think they buried him?” The question was quiet but, finally, there was a hint of acceptance to it. “Do you think they buried him with the man he loved? Or… Or did they bury him alone?”

“How do you live with that? Well…” Teagan was always one for affection, and she knew people’s limits most of the time. But, she’d be kidding herself if she really believed she could decipher Cass’s at that moment. So she was careful with how she tread forward, kept their hands together as she squeezed them reassuringly. “We have no other choice, do we? Take that hardy bite and swallow it no matter how hard it is.” Taking their hands, Teagan pulled Cass’s to her lips and placed a soft kiss to them, giving her the most love she could with what little she could do. “But here’s the thing Cass, you don’t have to do it alone.”

Teagan watched as Cass digested what she said, and caught a possible glimpse of the young woman’s mind at work. When she finally spoke, the nix’s eyes widened, seeing a stroke of acceptance in the most devastating way. At that, she tossed aside all reservations and wrapped her arms around Cass. “I know they did. I know it. He was so loved, how could anyone bury him alone? There’s no way he walked into the afterlife without someone waiting for him or without someone next to him. He was sick and well taken care of, so no, Cass. No way he was alone. Ever.”

There was a part of Cass that wanted to deny it, even now. There was a part of her that wanted to insist that Teagan was wrong, that there was another choice, that they could reach back into the folds of time and bring Jonas back, that he didn’t have to stay lost if they didn’t let him. But deep down, she knew it couldn’t happen. Teagan was right, and Jonas was gone. Maybe he’d always been gone. He’d died centuries before Cass was born, after all, had been dead from the start. And it hurt in a way that didn’t make sense, ached in a way that only something like this could. She swallowed, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment and letting the tears slip out as Teagan took her hands. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I know I’ve been… I haven’t been a very good friend to you, Teagan.” She wasn’t sure she deserved Teagan’s kindness now, but she was far too selfish to push it away.

She wanted the comfort that came with it. She needed it. Teagan seemed so certain about what she was saying, so sure that it was the truth. Cass had never been good at that. She was a good liar, good enough to fool herself sometimes, but that was a double-edged sword. It made it hard to believe anything might be the truth. So it helped, sometimes, to hear it from the mouth of someone who couldn’t lie. “I don’t know how I’m gonna do all this without him,” she admitted quietly, gesturing to the shop. But she meant more than that, too. Jonas had been far more than just her boss, after all. “I don’t think I can.” 

“Shh…hush now, sweet one. I understand and I’m not angry. We’re here for each other, all right?” It was much more of a gentle command than a request. A kind gesture born from a heart that was grieving alongside Cass. Jonas would’ve wanted them to be together, and Teagan was as sure of that as she was that she was a nix. Even if it wasn’t though, having seen grief and having been the one mourned, all she wanted was for her loved ones to rely on one another. Spread arms wide and cover each other in the safety that they still had the ability to love. To pass on hope and peek at the very idea that life continued. If they could do that—together— the rest would be easier. Not easy. But, easier. 

“You can do this because you won’t be doing it alone. Living, the shop, all of it. We will do this together.” Teagan carefully stroked Cass’s hair and cooed every sentiment. Her voice was low and quiet, having all the fragility and delicacy of glass, but the strength of stone. “One day at a time and each instance to the next.,” she murmured into a forest of black, “That’s all we got and all we can do. It’ll be okay.”

“Yeah,” Cass agreed with a sniff. Now that the floodgates were open, there was no going back and she knew it. Jonas was gone. But Teagan wasn’t. She wasn’t alone, in all of this — neither of them were. And that had to mean something, didn’t it? Of all the grief she’d suffered through her life, she wasn’t sure she’d ever had someone there to suffer it with her. It made the burden feel just a little easier to carry, even if nothing could dissipate it entirely. 

She leaned against Teagan now, burying herself into the embrace and taking comfort in the hand stroking her hair, the quiet tenor of the voice whispering reassurances. She bit back the urge to say thank you, kept herself from slipping up thanks more to the sizable lump in her throat blocking the words from coming out than any kind of self control. It hurt. But it didn’t have to hurt alone. She knew that now. 

[hellmouth-manor]

The tale of a swallowtail butterfly | Nike | mm.4

When Nike first met Alou, they found him in the garden keeping company to a swallowtail butterfly as it reached the end of its cycle— a perfect picture of benevolence. This is where his nickname for her comes from: Swallowtail; much like the twin-tailed raptor; much like the dying butterfly perched upon his finger. Somehow it’s this memory that comes to mind as he makes his curtain call, because Nike had thought then that it was touching, and confusing, the depth of kindness one must have to demonstrate such gentleness towards a smaller being. But now, they wonder if ‘kindness’ was ever the right word. 

They wonder if they were actually the insect, and not the bird. 

“Would you consider yourself strong? Or weak?”

More on the swallowtail butterfly: the swallowtail gets its name from the “tails” hanging on the back of its wings resembling the forked tail of a swallow. 

There is a practical purpose to this, other than to intimidate larger predators with its design.

“What do you think makes a person strong?”

The tail of a swallowtail is brittle. Oh so very brittle. It runs the chance of ripping at the slightest touch. Should a hungry bird snap its beak over the fragile end, the butterfly can set itself free by breaking off a part of itself. The swallowtail, after relishing its victory, will continue doing everything it has to in order to survive, so that it can die at the ripe old age of 12 days. 

A meaningless resistance to an unforgiving existence.

In this case, Alou is right: Nike is no different than a Swallowtail.

Despite doing everything to keep herself intact, Nike always finds herself on the verge of breaking apart. Every step forward was another part devoured: her mind, her body, her heart. Everyday, a sacrifice, until one day the inevitable happens and he loses his life. Yet, even then, he doesn’t stop fighting. By all means, he shouldn’t have to fight so hard, but god he does anyway. Because if there’s anything they’ve learned in this godforsaken inferno, it’s that leaving something behind doesn’t make it lost.

“I think caring makes people terrifyingly strong. There's a lot you can be willing to do... a lot you can be willing to put yourself through, if you care.”

“Then you have the answer to your second question. Given that, do you think that I am strong or weak?”

“I think you're stronger than any person should have to be.”

This is the one point that Alou and Nike can find understanding: that there is unfathomable strength in caring. That saving others, protecting them, is an endless well of motivation. 

However, not even for a second does that makes Alou strong. 

Because all he knows is how to take. He takes, and takes, and takes, and you can’t be strong if you’re too afraid to lose. 

Nike won’t let Alou take any more parts of them— not a leg, or a wing, or a tail.

“God, I didn’t think you could even be a bigger hypocrite.”

Nike laughs— the most carefree sound she has ever made.

“Poor Alou! Made to carry a cross that no one asked him to! Well, I’m gonna call bullshit that this was your life calling! There could’ve been many different ways things could’ve gone. You could’ve done anything, could’ve fought harder out of your role. Instead, you chose the easy way out! You don’t know the meaning of sacrifice even if it bit you in the ass!”

“That’s why I refuse to tie your life with mine. It doesn’t fucking matter if it’s all ‘cultivated’ or whatever,”

They pound their fist on the surface with enough force it breaks skin. 

“It’s my shitty life and you can’t take that away from me.”

[dark9896]

Little Birdie [Lucky x Reader]

Lucky had knowledge of all sorts of arcane spells and magic items, yet the book on the bench next to his sweetheart wasn't part of that lexicon. Not yet anyways.

He had to approach this delicately since it followed them everywhere and couldn't leave their side. His only proper solution being asking Klaus to bring him some research materials and be on hold for intel trafficking.

Yet, Lucky also had to try and comfort you. Being targeted by a magic artifact, possibly cursed, was quite the ordeal in itself. One Lucky had some experience himself. Though, not having a clue what this book would even do was bothering him to no end.

It was a rather pretty book. White felt, soft blue accents, shimmery silver trim swirling along the spine and cover. I gorgeous book by itself, but that had to be part of the magic. Lucky was certain of it.

■■■

Lucky blinked, he was certain he was just standing next to you. But now he was looking at a large lake. It was a pretty lake, very romantic setting to be certain. But, where was he? Where were you? Why couldn't he see you?

What he could see was a snow white swan. It had your eye color, which was rather unusual for a swan. Wait, it couldn't be...?

"[Name]?" Lucky leaned down to look the swan in the eye, "Is that you?"

"Yes." Lucky jumped back, your voice was still intact? "What happened? All I remember is standing by the book. Did it open maybe?"

"I don't know sweetie. I don't know what to do either. This whole situation is stranger than I have ever been in."

Lucky didn't like the look in your eye.

"It isn't hopeless. We'll get out of here. I'll find a way to get us out of this."

Lucky wanted to hurry this along, get you out of here. But he couldn't think what to really do. So he returned to the lake where you stayed every night. All he could think of was at least keeping you calm. Talking every night waiting for the full moon seemed to do the trick. If his hunch was correct, then his plan should work.

You were finally able to return to a human form the night of the full moon. Just in time, Lucky walked up as the transformation effect wore off. It had been a while, or at least felt like a while, since you were able to hug Blitz like this. Being hugged as a bird just felt weird.

"This is so much better." Lucky sighed, nuzzling gently against your cheek, "I don't think it's a good idea to let this story play out any further. And nothing else has helped. I'm quite relieved of that. I don't think I could deal with you as a swan back home."

You chuckled a little, "I'm sure you'd have found a way to undo that soon enough."

Lucky leaned back a little, smiling at you in a lopsided way. He loved how you trusted him, now if only this worked. He hated the idea of coming across your comatose body. Cupping your face, making sure you knew exactly what was coming next. A gentle kiss that nearly made you swoon.

■■■

Looking around the apartment, Lucky was glad it worked. He wasn't entirely sure, but was glad he didn't have to see that. Though, the book itself seemed to have disappeared. Nothing could be done about that, except research. But first...

"[Name], are you okay? You were the one transformed."

"I'm...okay. It was weird having feathers though."

"I bet. I could use a second pair of eyes on the research, if you don't mind."

"Won't I just get in the way? Isn't it sensitive information?"

Lucky slipped his arm carefully around your shoulders, "Not at all dear. After all, you were in the situation with me."

[licncourt]

Okay bestie now Louis and Lestat relationship head canons!!!

YES THEY

(These are gonna be super fluffy and dumb because real canon has enough Shit)

Reading together is their favorite thing to do on nights in. Louis reignited Lestat's passion for reading and language, so they work their way through all the classics from the time they missed together before moving on to modern fiction. It's like a little book club for two, complete with hours of discussions and debate

Once they're both positive that Louis can be trusted around animals, Lestat gets them pets. He has a dog (Mojo is the only part of Body Thief canon I accept) and Louis has a bird (he loved the ones the had at Rue Royale)

Lestat is obsessed with documenting their life together in a way they couldn't before. He's always taking photos and videos of them in every possible scenario. They have stacks of Polaroids from every date they've been on with a brief description written on the back and hours upon hours of home videos of everyday life. There are boxes of mementos too. Notes and love letters, playbills, travel souvenirs, receipts, ticket stubs, mixtapes, you name it, Lestat's kept it

Louis is very attracted to Lestat in his glam rock outfits but he won't say it out loud. You couldn't waterboard a verbal acknowledgment of his appreciation for leather pants out of him. (Lestat knows, but he can't make fun. He has his own thing for the uptight English professor look Louis has going on)

After they reconcile and get together permanently (this happens after QotD, don't listen to Anne) they become That Couple and are always attached at the hip. If you invite one to do something there's a very good chance the other one will just sort of. Be there. They can have whole conversations with just eye movements and facial expressions. It's very creepy

Despite this, they are SUPER competitive. Monopoly, bowling, trivia, mini golf, whatever it is will have them at each other's throats in minutes. There will be at least one screaming match and they're both sore losers

Louis is the dead eyed boyfriend holding fifteen shopping bags while Lestat takes luxury outlets by storm. If he's feeling generous, Lestat can dress him like a Barbie doll while he dissociates

I mentioned in my Louis headcanons that he is a clothing thief, but Lestat has a hoard of stolen sweaters too that he wears on shitty mental health days. When they stop smelling like Louis, he'll put them back so they'll be worn again and prepped for restealing

Lestat has a notebook full of snippets of song lyrics about Louis. Louis has one full of candid sketches of Lestat. They both think the other doesn't know

Often when Lestat gets in a mood, he'll play the piano for hours on end. Louis never says anything, but sometimes he'll sit beside him a play a duet (one of the perks of vampire skill and intuition is spontaneous musical harmonies)

When they start sleeping in a bed together instead of a coffin, it's actually Louis who ends up turning into the cuddle octopus. No matter where they start in bed, Lestat always wakes up in a vice grip and with a mouthful of black hair

For a long time they couldn't talk about their memories Claudia or Rue Royale, it hurt too much. But after a few years of healing together, they started being able to share their good memories of her and their family with each other. It will always be bittersweet though. They don't discuss it often

Louis is ridiculously bitey. He never feeds enough so he's always a total piranha when they're in close proximity. It's a good thing Lestat has a crazy healing factor or else he'd be a bloody pulp from just getting fucking gnawed on all day

They would absolutely never let anyone find out (especially Armand) but they have a stash of marriage counseling books that got very heavy use in the first couple years. Sometimes mindful expressions of gratitude and begrudging "I feel" statements are all that keeps the parlor intact

They still have the knee jerk reaction to introduce the other as their brother-in-law in the modern world, but getting to correct it to "husband" is exciting for them both every time. It takes Louis a while to be comfortable with any public acknowledgment of their relationship, but he's okay with telling people and holding hands or chaste kisses now

[userholland]

all for her [3]

pairing: dad!bartender!tom x female!reader

warnings: cursing, lots of angst

summary: a single-dad bartender, a supportive best friend and their continuous, unrequited love noticed by his optimistic daughter. is it possible to break a heart they never knew they had?

word count: 8.7k! 

a/n: another month has passed but! finally here’s part 3!!! sorry for the delay but i was caught in between this rut & midterms so it took a while for any big ideas to spark. but i’m so happy that so many of y’all have enjoyed this story. i want to say again that this is my favorite fic series i’ve ever written so thank you so so much for appreciating it! i may end with 5 parts, but i won’t leave y’all hanging!

— masterlist ☆彡

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

A week had passed since the gruesome bar fight and Tom was still left with a dark bruise surrounding his right eye along with another on the side of his chin and the start of his jaw. Luckily, there were no broken bones or dislocated limbs, but it was made known that he had a concussion after you forced him to go to the emergency room and get properly looked at by a doctor. As stubborn as he was, Tom tried listening to the careful instructions given for the follow-up appointments that would come, but everything went in one ear and out the other.

“We want to make sure each part of the brain that was impacted is still intact, so we want you to see this specialist and they’ll run a few cognitive tests to make sure everything is okay.” The doctor explained in simple terms as he scribbled the information on his prescription pad and ripped it off.

You nodded, taking the paper from him, “How much is all this?”

“It’s not too costly, but insurance should cover most of it.” He reassured, glancing at you before looking back at Tom’s chart, “I recommend a lot of rest and time away from work for at least two to three days.”

Tom quickly looked over, “I can’t take off work right now. I really can’t afford to do that right now.”

“Mr. Holland, we want to make sure that there’s no way you could injure yourself even more than now. You need to take a few rest days in order to relax and stay away from anything strenuous.”

“I’m a bartender, I think I can-”

“Tom... relax, please.” You retorted at him, your jaw slightly clenched.

Tom stared out the window with his side against the wall, feeling like he was miles away even though he was just across the room. You peered over at him a few times throughout the appointment, but you knew he didn’t want to be here. One of the strings of his black hoodie curled around his pointer finger, pulling on the coil before letting it spring back, repeating it a few times as the doctor continued informing to you.

He’d been fixated on the results of the DNA test. It was rooted in his mind from how many times he read over it, convincing himself it wasn’t true and it was a huge mistake. Doubt consumed his thoughts, wondering how he could have been so stupid to fall for the entire ruse even though Tom never regretted one moment of raising Summer. He loved her so much and would do anything to have her back, but finding out the truth made it harder for him to figure out if he should still be fighting for her.

Throughout the nights, he tossed and turned enough to wake you up, feeling his pull on the sheets. Sometimes you’d hold him from behind, curling your arms and locking them to make him feel safe. You pressed your cheek against his back, the eerily sound of his heartbeat against your ear as it quickly thudded. His thumb brushed over the top of your hand, remembering that you were still there, but when he closed his eyes, every thought crawled its way back in and cluttered his mind enough to make him want to burst into an angry fit.

After a few minutes, the doctor left you two to gather your things. Tom ran his hand over his hair as he started to walk to the door, but you blocked him from taking another step. With your arms crossed in front of your chest and your eyebrows furrowed, Tom knew that look was never good.

“Talk to me… C’mon, what’s going on? What’s on your mind?” You softly asked, still looking into his eyes.

Tom ran his hands down his face, a light groan leaving his lips from the frustration slowly building inside his entire body.

“I don’t want to talk about it now, Y/N. Please. I’m fucking embarrassed enough.” He huffed.

“Then when are you gonna talk about it?” You retorted, your eyebrows furrowed from concern, “You can’t keep the weight of the world on your shoulders forever.”

He shrugged, “I’m not Summer’s dad. That’s it! It was all fucking nothing. It doesn’t matter-”

“It’s always mattered, Tom!” You whisper-shouted, not wanting to make a scene with everyone passing by even though the door was closed, “What Maggie did to you was fucked up, but you raised that girl to be who she is now and that’s what matters.”

Tom gulped, his tired eyes beginning to water as he kept eye contact with you. His bottom lip quivered, but he quickly wiped his tears with his hoodie sleeve. The dryness in his throat hurt and even closing his bruised eye was painful to do, making him curse under his breath every time. He clenched his jaw tight as he rubbed the back of his neck, but you placed your hands on each side of his delicate face. 

It was hard to see him in this state where nothing mattered to him and there was a greyness that clouded over the great and wonderful person he truly was. It wasn’t the Tom you grew up with, not even close, so to see this side of him for the first time astonished you, and you weren’t sure what else it would take to see his old self other than getting Summer back.

He ran his hand over his soft curls, “Can we just go home?”

“Yeah, but remember we have a call with a lawyer tomorrow morning. He thinks you could get a good settlement deal since the guy who beat you up had prior arrests.” You reminded him, pecking his cheek then rubbing your thumb over the bruised skin under his eye.

Tom nodded, “You know we can’t afford this guy.”

“We’ll make it work.” You said, wrapping your arms around his waist with his around your neck.

He licked his lips, “Y/N, I’m not gonna make you pay for it.”

“Who said you were making me? I know you want her back as much as I do.” You sniffled, gently holding his face so he could look into your sincere eyes and saw the way they gleamed.

Neither of you wanted to surrender and it never crossed your minds to give up on Summer, but it was getting harder when you felt like Tom was a ticking time bomb and it could only take Maggie’s choice of words to pick at the one nerve no one else could reach to make him completely snap.

Your noses brushed together with your foreheads lightly pressed, both of you reminding yourselves that you had one another. Tom placed his hand on your cheek before leaning in, feeling how soft and light your lips were against his and tasting your minty chapstick. As your eyes tightly closed, you shared a slow kiss with your arms still loosely wrapped around his neck. It was a blissful kiss, one you hadn’t shared in a while, but it was comforting in moments like this where you were terrified of what was to come. 

When Tom pulled away, he planted a faint kiss on the center of your forehead, “I love you so much.”

“I love you so much more.” You mumbled as you looked into his beautiful, russet eyes, “C’mon. Let’s go home and put some ice on that eye again, maybe take a nap after.” You hinted.

He half-smiled, “That sounds nice.”

You quickly furrowed your eyebrows, pouted your bottom lip, “Hmm, and maybe take a shower, you look like hell.” You joked, raking your fingers through the front of his messy curls to the crown of his head.

Tom rolled his eyes and smirked, “You know you used to be nicer to me, like when we were kids.”

“Well that’s before I fell for you, I can’t get too soft… plus, I think it balances your ego.” You smiled, pressing your lips against his while the two of you giggled within another kiss.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

Later that afternoon, you and Tom were napping on the couch with the TV on low volume. The birds chirped by the window and traffic was below the terrace, the sudden honks echoing between the buildings. You were laying between Tom’s legs, the fluffy blanket over your whole body. With your arms loose around Tom’s torso, you slumbered with your head comfortably against his chest. Tom wanted to go some sleep, blinking his dry eyes every few seconds to keep himself awake, trying to distract himself with his phone.

Light snores left your lips, your face hiding in his neck as you unconsciously curled up more. Tom stretched his neck a bit, making sure you were okay before running his hand over your hair. If he could lose Summer, Tom worried that you could slip away just as easily. He never realized how protective he was, hoping it wouldn’t push you away from his own faults and insecurities; he didn’t want to be left alone.

Tom kissed the top of your hair, nuzzling his face against the top of your head. Throughout this, you were his rock, an anchor to hold him down when things got to be too much and he couldn’t believe how supportive you were with how confused he was. You held him when he cried and you listened to him when he needed to vent. It was things you’d done before, but you both felt emotionally closer like another wall had fallen and there was nothing you couldn’t tell each other.

He slowly raked his fingers through the crown of your head to the end of your back, over and over as you peacefully napped before his phone vibrated against the coffee table. You stirred in your sleep, turning your head away and loosely wrapping your arm under Tom’s neck. As his vision cleared from his sleepy daze, Tom furrowed his eyebrows at the contact name.

“Hey, baby, I have to take this,” Tom said in a low tone, not wanting to completely wake you up.

You nodded, your eyes still closed, but Tom slowly got on his feet. After he placed the blanket over you, Tom went out to his bedroom so you could have some quiet.

“Hey, dad.” He answered.

“Hey, Tommy.”

His father always had the same monotone voice, like a poker face that he had to figure out since he was born.

“What’s going on? Is Sheryl okay?” Tom replied, sitting down on the bed.

Ever since his dad got remarried a few years ago, Tom and his father’s relationship slowly parted over time. With work, school, and a kid, Tom didn’t have time to take the backhanded compliments and concerned parenting skills that his new stepmom persistently gave to him on any family occasion. They used to have dinners together every Saturday night when Tom could get away from the city and school, but each one got worse. The last straw was around this time last year, it was Thanksgiving dinner and the blowout was something Tom tried to forget every other week. He couldn’t even bring it all up to you which was hard to keep since it’s been biting at his nerves for the last year.

As Summer got older, Tom didn’t want her to think she was “some kind of mistake” as Sheryl would put it. So for the sake of her, he told himself that his family wasn’t going to cost his daughter’s happiness and he never returned a call back until now. She asked about her grandparents around birthdays or holidays throughout the year, but it was getting harder for Tom to avoid the question when she wouldn’t give up sometimes.

Even though Tom’s mom was usually out of the country, she made sure to send presents, pictures and call every other weekend to make sure he and Summer were okay, but Tom would never admit to her if something was wrong. His mom was never there, not for him growing up and rarely now, but he knew she was trying to make up for it holiday after holiday.

“Uh, she’s well. We’re fine. I just wanted to call you and ask what’s going on… How’s Summer?” His dad genuinely asked.

Tom chuckled, “Why do you ask?”

His father hesitated for a second with his answer, “I haven’t heard from you in a while. Your mom called me and said that she hadn’t heard from you either. So, we’re just worried about you…”

“Yeah… yeah.” Tom raised his eyebrows as he rolled his eyes.

He heard his father sigh, “I know things weren’t the best the last time I saw you-”

“Some woman I barely know tells me that I can’t raise my daughter? That she was a mistake? No, dad. I should be visiting even more after that.” Tom retorted, grinning to mask how the anger was building up inside him slowly but surely.

“She’s your stepmom.”

“Not to me.”

Tom’s dad didn’t fight back his bitter attitude, “Tom, I just want to talk to you. It’s just you and me.”

“Dad, I’m really… not in the mood.” 

“Let’s get lunch… or dinner, maybe? Just the two of us.” His dad suggested, almost pleading.

There was silence between the conversation as Tom thought for a few seconds. As damaged as his bond was with his dad, he didn’t want to push him away. It would be what Maggie was doing to him, and to feel the separation from a child hurt like hell.

Tom sniffled, “Fine, yeah. Sure.”

“Great. Well, what about dinner tonight? Where do you want to meet?”

“Um, we can meet at the bar I work at… before my shift starts. Six o’clock.” Tom trailed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Okay, I’ll see you then.”

Tom quickly hung up before he could burst into tears. In the back of his mind, he thought there was an ultimatum behind the real reason he wanted to talk, not thinking it was just some catching up. But, the stress of the past month had made Tom into a walking mess. Maybe this would bring back some old times, like when he was a kid in a baseball cap and his dad brought him to baseball games and carnivals when his mom was on business trips.

“Fucking Christ,” Tom said under his breath, running his hands through his hair. He blinked away the tears at the waterlines of his tired eyes, wiping them with his t-shirt before getting up.

It was still hard to pass Summer’s room and see it still untouched and empty. Tom kept it neat and clean, hoping it motivated his hope to have her back home. Sometimes he’d sit on her bed and think about the little life the three of you had together. She probably missed her stuffed animals she had tea parties with or the t-shirts she couldn’t fit in her bag. Maggie refused to let him over anymore, not after the last time they saw each other and how frustrated he got. It was hard to think that Tom was holding out for nothing, and Summer could never be in his life again.

He leaned against the doorframe, staring at the bunny sitting on her bed. It was the bunny you and Tom spent hours looking for sometimes, one day realizing that Summer started to do it on purpose. She would hide it in the last place you could think of and it became a race of who could find Mr. Fluffycakes first. She finally admitted one day that she thought it was a game that you and Tom liked to play, so she would try to find the perfect place to almost camouflage the soft, grey bunny.

Tom held it in his hands, bring it up to his face, and smelling the familiar, lavender-vanilla detergent. He sighed, glaring at the small paintings taped with scotch tape to her wall by the dollhouse in the corner of her room. It was Summer’s favorite Christmas present she had ever gotten, Tom’s mom hoping she’d like it after getting it from London. She traveled a lot, always sending things in the mail to Summer, but rarely making appearances with how much she did work. Tom hoped that would change from when he was a kid, but now he understood how his parents ended up separating.

“You okay, babe?” You grinned, leaning on the doorframe and glaring at Tom sat on Summer’s book nook.

“Yeah, just miss her.” He half-smiled, biting his bottom lip after and tossing her bunny on the bed.

You walked over, sitting next to Tom and wrapping your arm around his shoulder before kissing his temple trailing to the apple of his cheek then lightly pressing your nose against his cheek.

“I bet she misses you a lot too.” You replied. “Have you heard from Maggie? Any chance of… seeing her? Maybe a short visit.” You asked, pulling your head away to turn to him.

He nodded, “We haven’t talked. I don’t want Summer to see me like this anyways.” Tom said low, lightly touching his bruised eye.

“C’mon, you look noble and tough. She’ll think you’re more of a hero than you already are.” You joked, trying to get a smile out of him.

“Hmm, I wish I felt like that.” Tom sighed.

Trying to figure out the gears working in Tom’s head was always a mystery. You watched his brown eyes shift back and forth as he was leaned over, his elbows against the top of his knees. Another long sigh passed his lips and you could tell something else was really bothering him, not needing him to say it.

“What’s wrong, baby? C’mon, you have that furrow in your brow.” You tilted your head.

He bit the inside of his cheek, his pride fighting his urge to just open his mouth, but he had a soft spot for you like no one else could. The instant Tom looked into your eyes, he felt the comfort he knew he needed.

“My dad called me, just now.”

“Oh… Is that good or bad?” You asked.

He cracked his knuckles, shrugging, “Both, kind of...”

You didn’t know much about Tom and his dad’s relationship other than Tom hating his stepmom, in light terms than he used. But, he wanted Summer to keep in contact with them for as long as he could. So many years had passed since you last saw his dad, so it didn’t feel right to butt in when you knew the bare minimum, but last Thanksgiving was unforgivable in Tom’s book so you stood by his side on what he felt.

“We’re gonna meet for dinner tonight… at the bar. I want to take a shift tonight.” Tom added.

You sighed, “Tom, you can’t work. We have to go to the doctor soon.”

“Just tonight. I promise. I… I need to do something with myself.” He groaned as he ran his fingers through his hair, rubbing the top of his head before looking back into your eyes.

“Okay… I understand. But, just tonight.” You agreed and rubbed his arm, pressing your cheek against his shoulder.

Tom sat up, straightening his back and you pulled your face away from his shoulder to look him in the eye. Your faces were close together, a few inches away before he asked, “Can you come with me? ‘Cause, I don’t think I can do it alone.” He admitted then bit the inside of his cheek.

You tried to hide your smile, happy that he was opening up a bit at a time.

“Of course, babe. I’ll go with you for however long you need me.” You said as you trailed your hand to his, intertwining your fingers together and giving him a quick squeeze. Tom’s smile slowly painted on his tired face, bringing the top of your hand to his lips.

“Thank you. Really, thank you. You don’t know how grateful I am for you.”

“Well, I have all day.” You jeered and it made him smile again, wrapping his arms around you to scatter kisses on your cheek and neck.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

The bar wasn’t busy during the late afternoon, before the fleet of college students and single women came through for the nightlife. But it was a relaxed spot when the sun was still out. A few husky men sat at the bar, eating chips and drinking pints to watch the various games on the flat screens or truckers stopping by for a nice meal and taking a smoke outside. It wasn’t the most formal place to meet up, but Tom had work in two hours so it was more convenient than worrisome to impress his dad.

You and Tom sat at a table for four, sitting next to one another and your arm linked around his. He was dressed in his work attire which was a dark-blue button-down paired with a white t-shirt with his name tag on the right side of his chest, solid black jeans that were a bit baggy on him, and his raggedy converse with the laces looped around the ankle once. He kept checking his watch every few minutes while he tapped his right foot against the floor and it began to make you a bit antsy.

“Baby, you need to relax.” You reminded him, lightly pressing your hand down on his thigh.

“I am. I’m just mentally preparing for what he’s gonna say to me.” He sighed as he sat up in his chair.

“Like what?”

“Oh, you really want me to go through the entire list?” Tom sarcastically joked, a half-smile on his lips.

You humored him with a giggle, but nodded your head, “You’re overthinking it. It’ll be okay and I’m right here next to you.”

Tom leaned in, giving you a light kiss that made your stomach fill with butterflies. You never knew how tender he could be when he didn’t seem like the kind of guy who enjoyed PDA. But, he became putty when he was around you by this point that it was hard not to want to kiss you when you comforted him.

He quickly looked down at his watch again, “He’s almost an hour late. He probably bailed.”

“Don’t say that. He’s gonna come, maybe, he’s just in weekend traffic.” You tried to keep his head up.

Tom rubbed the back of his neck, but he couldn’t help but slowly feeling the creeping feeling of abandonment on his shoulders. He wanted to give his dad a chance, he really did, but this was reminding him of how he was never the most reliable. It twisted Tom’s trust issues in every person he met and having to be forced to sit there, wondering and waiting, was eating Tom alive.

Another half-hour passed and Tom decided to clock in early. He didn’t feel like having to sit there for another hour, only to be asked and told exactly what he expected to hear. You told him that you’d sit at the end of the bar, staying with him until he specifically asked you to go home, but really you wanted to hang around to make sure Tom didn’t get into another bar fight that ended up with him having more than a concussion.

Some college students fled in and asked for a round of beers while others waited for their favorite cocktails. There was enough staff tonight that Tom didn’t feel overwhelmed like last few times, sometimes having to clock in on days he didn’t work because someone called in sick. The new guys were nice, most of them young and needing something to do during graduate school or trying to make rent.

As Tom wiped down the bar when a group of girls left, his manager, Teddy, called his name from behind. He quickly looked over his shoulder and tossed the rag in the bucket underneath the bar, walking over to Teddy who never failed to not have a clipboard in his hands. He never took off his wedding ring at work like some of the other servers and bartenders and even so, he gushed about his wife, Anna, when he could. Even though he sounded like a broken record some days, Tom admired how Teddy flaunted his stable, almost 20-year relationship.

“Glad to see you back, Tommy!” Teddy grinned at him, putting his hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah. I feel better, I just have to go to a few doctor’s appointments, if that’s okay with you.” Tom asked in the moment, crossing his arms.

“Of course! Of course. For how long you’ve been working here, I don’t think you’ve ever taken a sick day or called in last minute.”

“It’s just been two years, Teddy. You make me sound old.” Tom joked, cracking a smile.

“Yeah, but I still appreciate you. You’re a valuable asset.”

Tom didn’t want to take the compliment, but he still nodded and grinned.

“Hey, have you heard anything from that guy’s lawyers? Are they giving you any compensation?” Teddy curiously asked as he wrote with his signature, blue pen on the paper of the clipboard.

“My girlfriend and I found a lawyer, but I don’t know if he’s good enough to make sure I get the money I’m supposed to get. We’re working it out.” Tom reassured him as he glared at his feet.

Teddy smiled at Tom, big and sincere, “Well, as long as you have that support, you’ll be prepared for anything that comes your way. I’m sure your daughter will too.”

Tom nodded, “Yeah… She’s a great kid.”

He still hadn’t told anyone at work what had happened with Summer, seeing it was no one’s business other than everyone knowing he got hired because he was a single dad trying to provide for his daughter, at least who he thought was his daughter.

“Well, I’ll let you get back to work. Let me know if you need anything.” Teddy acknowledged before walking to the kitchen through the doors.

Tom bit his bottom lip before sealing his lips, looking out at the crowd coming in. Out of habit, he checked his watch again, but quickly turned away to not keep holding out with his dad to come. When Tom’s gaze landed on you, his eyes softened a bit at the natural glow you had. You were talking to a girl who you knew in college, both of you still sat at the end of the bar and you smiled and laughed with her.

As he walked over to where you were, your eyes went to him and your friend looked over her shoulder.

“I’ll see you around, Y/N.” She grinned, flashing Tom a friendly smile before she walked back over to her table of friends.

Tom’s eyes followed her then turned his focus to you, leaning on the bar, “Who was that?”

“She was in a few of my classes in college. Good friend. She thought that I had a pretty cute boyfriend too. Apparently, his black eye makes him look very brawny.” You teased, bringing your class of water to your lips as you watched him chuckle.

“Is he here tonight? I’d love to meet him finally.” Tom joked back.

The brightness was back in his brown eyes, a glimmer of hazel under the warm light. You hadn’t seen that gleam in a long time and it was a good sign and as much as you couldn’t know what was going through his mind, you just wanted more moments like this. Both of you away from the apartment where you weren’t secluded to walls that had too many memories built within them.

You leaned on the bar, your nose brushing against Tom’s before you shared a sweet, short kiss. You giggled against your lips as he did too, but you pulled back when you heard someone say his name from behind.

Tom’s dad stood there, his hair was a salt-and-pepper shade and a few lines along his face. The shoulders of his cargo jacket were wet from the downpour outside, a few raindrops dripping down his forehead and nose.

“Hey, Dad…” Tom sighed.

You turned to Tom, “Go, it’ll be okay, baby.” You reassured him, placing your hand on top of his.

“Okay. I’ll see you in a bit.” Tom said before giving you another kiss then walked around the bar to meet with his dad in the middle of the floor.

“Do you wanna sit?” His dad asked him, gesturing his hand to the table next to them.

“Yeah, I just have a few minutes,” Tom said, pulling out the chair.

His dad furrowed his eyebrows, “What happened to your face? Did you get into a fight?”

“Uh, yeah. Sort of. It’s not important.” Tom deflected as he lightly touched his eye, not thinking his bruise was that noticeable in the dim lighting of the table.

“I think it’s important.” His dad chuckled, leaning on the table to get a closer look, “C’mon, who was it?”

Tom nodded his head, “That’s not why you’re here to talk, Dad.” He said lowly, crossing his arms.

“Well, I wanted to catch up. How are you? How’s Summer?” His dad tried to carry the conversation in a more positive manner, hoping he could connect with Tom without it becoming an argument.

“Um, Summer’s fine. She’s in kindergarten this year.” Tom replied.

“Wow! Kindergarten already? It’s like yesterday you were that age. You would always wear that damn baseball hat everyday… your mom would throw a fit and she tried to hide it from you all the time, but you managed to always find it. Ah, she just loved when your hair grew out.” His dad chuckled, leaning back in his chair and he glanced over at you.

“Yeah… She’s getting older.”

“You have a picture?” His dad quickly asked.

Tom pulled out his phone, scrolling through his gallery until he found a picture from a few weeks ago at her birthday party. It was when Summer was blowing out her candles, her knees pressed into the chair cushion and her one hand pushing her up on the table while the casted one was by her side as she tried to reach the top of the cake.

“She broke her arm? Geez, what’s going on in your lives?” His dad smiled at the picture before Tom took his phone back.

“Her and Y/N went ice skating and she fell and… it was a whole thing, but she’s okay now.”

His dad grinned, “Is that Y/N over there?” He nodded his head in your direction.

Tom looked over his shoulder at you, still sat at the bar and you were talking with one of the bartenders. You crossed your leg over the other as you carried the conversation with a glowing smile painted on your lips, gesturing with your one hand while the other cupped your drink. The red and yellow lights strobed against your face, highlighting it past all the people passing by to get drinks or dance on the other side of the room. You felt Tom’s eyes glued to you, making you stare back at him and give him a playful wink.

“Yeah. We’re... dating now.” Tom admitted, glancing down at the table and drawing slow circles with his index finger on the polished wood.

Tom’s dad smiled, “Yeah well, you always had a crush on her. Glad to know you guys are still close. She was always a nice kid and… from what you told me, she was good with Summer.”

Every time Summer’s name was brought up, it struck Tom’s nerve and it made his face heat up. The more he talked about her, the more upset he got about what was going on complied with the other things going on in his life. Tom clenched his jaw, not able to reply and his dad could see he was upset. Even though Tom was growing older and he was his own man, his father could always tell when something was wrong. As much as Tom didn’t think anyone could figure him out, his dad could read him like the back of his hand.

“Is something else going on? Other than me just showing up?” His dad tilted his head to try to look at Tom.

As Tom’s pride fought his ego, he didn’t want to feel like he was suddenly giving into his father now that he was sitting in front of him. The idea of talking to his dad made him upset and brought back cruel memories, but now that he was venting and talking about things he thought he would be angry about, this seemed like a better time than any other to explain what was really going on.

Tom picked at his nail, trying to find the first words to say to how he felt without it feeling like a corny, emotional sitcom moment.

His face heated up, “I… I sort of found out that I’m… not Summer’s biological father.” Tom pinned his lips, tears developing by the corners of his eyes saying it out loud.

Tom’s father was shocked, not showing it on his face, but he gulped, “Are you sure?”

“A hundred percent. I took a DNA test at the doctor’s and… it sort of just… Well, I trust it enough to take it one time. The girl who’s her mom took her away, probably just for the child support, but I can’t figure out what to do… It’s been a month without her and I can’t sleep anymore, Dad. I raised her and I never doubted she was my daughter until now.” Tom choked up, a dryness in his throat making it hard to take a deep breath. He ran his hand over the top of his hair, weaving his fingers through the fluffy brown curls and pushing it away from his forehead.

His dad took a few seconds to contain his thoughts, wanting to truly think before he spoke and knew how much Summer meant to Tom.

“And on top of that, this asshole threw a punch at me at the bar last week and that’s how I got this.” Tom gestured to his eye, “And now I’m trying to get a settlement, but I don’t think I can afford the lawyer, and… everything is falling apart.” Tom trailed, finally looking right into his dad’s eyes who’s were similar to his.

Tom lowered his head, trying to hold his tears back at the sudden release of everything on his mind.

“I know you raised that little girl so well and I’ve always admired you for that.” His dad started.

Tom ran his hands down his face, sniffling as the whites of his eyes turned a light red. He couldn’t look at him as his father started to talk, worrying it was going to be a backhanded compliment and it was the wrong decision to do this.

“But, it’s gonna be hard to get her back if she’s not yours… but, if you find out more about how the mother feels about Summer and the whole situation, I can get in contact with a good lawyer or steer you in the direction of one.” His dad offered, but Tom nodded his head in response.

“Dad, I can’t do that.”

“I’m your father and I’m not gonna leave you hanging like this… I know you love Summer and you raised her. I’m not gonna let you drown yourself in a settlement on top of that, okay?”

“I’m not a kid anymore. I can take care of this-”

“You’re not, I know that! You’re a grown adult who’s just needing some help and that’s fine.” His dad emphasized, understanding how hard-headed his own son could be.

Tom nodded, “I want it to be a loan. I can pay you back for however long it takes.”

“No, no. Let me help you out… as your dad. I’m not a bank, I’m not… anyone else. I’m your father and I know that if you were taken away from like Summer was to you, I’d want everything to be as smooth as possible.” His dad explained, trying to show how much he truly cared about his son despite the cold, bitter tension between them for the past year and a half.

The two of them sat there with the noise of the people’s conversations around to fill the silence, but Tom came to his decision and he nodded, “Okay. It’s a deal.”

They didn’t even shake hands, let alone hug, but the thankfulness was implied. Tom’s dad grinned at his son, the one who was just a little kid he wishes he truly gave the world to instead of sitting here thinking he had a lot to make up for. 

“Other than all of that, have things been good otherwise?” His dad asked, glancing up at him.

Tom chuckled, “Just this and not much else. It’s been pretty boring without Summer around. But, Y/N has made it better.”

“Is she a keeper?” His dad grinned.

“She’s more than that. She’s really great and I could… see her in my life forever.”

His dad smiled, “I remember when she broke her arm and you just went on and on about dropping her homework at her house. I had to… call the school and get the parent contact information and then you were all jittery and nervous in the car. Even gelled your hair that day.” He recalled, smiling at the memory.

Tom blushed, “I wasn’t that nervous.”

“She really is a sweet girl. I’m happy for you.” His dad appreciated him, nice to see a smile finally on his face.

“Thanks, Dad.” Tom’s smile curled up, patches on red painting his cheeks at the thought of you even if you were sitting a few feet away.

“Well, it looks busy here so, maybe we can reschedule for an actual dinner. One that I don’t have to tip you for.” His dad jokes as they both stand up from their seats.

“Yeah, yeah. Of course. Definitely.” Tom nodded, running his sweaty palms down the front of his pants.

“It was really nice to see you. Don’t be a stranger.” His dad stood in front of him, staring at the mature and put-together man his son had become in the blink of an eye. It was a bittersweet feeling that maybe their time apart was leading up to this moment.

“I won’t.” Tom grinned, leaning in and wrapping his one arm around his dad.

His dad linked his arm around him as well, his hand meeting Tom’s back and giving it a few rubs before they pulled apart.

“I’ll keep in touch with you about the lawyer.”

“Thanks again.” Tom nodded.

You glanced over your shoulder, watching them go their own ways and his dad gave a quick wave to you. When your eyes shifted to Tom, he had a glow on his face, wanting to hide his smile by sealing his lips. You couldn’t help but grin, swiveling the barstool around to face him and you reached out for his hand.

“How did it go?” You simply asked, placing your hand on top of your knee.

Tom nodded, “It was fine, we can talk about it more when I get home.”

“No, tell me now.” You giggled, not wanting to put a damper on his news.

He half-smiled, “Just know that everything is going in the right direction. My dad said he’d help me a little bit with the settlement stuff and that way I can focus on Summer and what we’re gonna do.”

You ran your thumb over the top of his hand, “I’m really proud of you, you know that?”

“It was nothing-”

“It was something.” You retorted with a sweet smile, giving a light squeeze to his hand, “C’mhere.”

You placed your hand on his cheek, pulling him in to press a soft kiss on his lips. Deep down, he knew it wasn’t easy, but he didn’t want to take pride in something that seemed silly after it had happened. Luckily, he had you to remind him that he was taking the steps he needed to get Summer back. It was the first time you could see the light inside him even if he didn’t want to show it. Just from the difference in his smile, there was that gleam of hope.

As you pulled away, you sealed your lips and grinned at him. Your nose scrunched up as you both giggled, suddenly overwhelmed by the happiness filling yours and Tom’s hearts. You brushed your nose against his, your foreheads pressing together before he gave you another light kiss.

���Okay, I gotta work. You should go home, get some rest.”

“Well, I kind of wanna stay. It’s nice here and you’re just someone cute to look at.” You tilted your head.

“Why don’t you order something, on me, relax for a while and I’ll try to get off work early. Maybe, we can pick up ice cream on the way home to celebrate.” 

“Celebrate? Must have been really great news that I can’t wait to hear in detail.” You jeered and he planted a light kiss on your forehead before rounding behind the bar. He grabbed his rag, shoving it in his back pocket and you turned around toward him.

“What would you like to drink tonight, ma’am?” Tom said jokingly, placing a cocktail napkin on the bar in front of you.

Your lips to the side, “A rum and coke and make it dirty, Mr. Barkeep.”

He chuckled as he pulled a glass off the bottom shelf, beginning to make your drink in swift moves. He looked so natural behind the bar as he poured the bottles in intricate ways, finishing off the beverage with two cherries.

“Let me know if you need anything.” He smiled followed by a wink.

“Nothing I can say in public.” You teased before taking a sip of your drink.

Tom smirked at you before moving down the bar, tending to other customers with a natural smile on his lips. You tilted your head with your drink in your hand, almost in awe of him and how handsome he was.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

The night was getting louder while the crowd was growing, some people passing by bumping your shoulder even though you were still sat at the bar. You saw a few friends and struck up conversations with them to catch up, not completely bored while Tom was working, but you were worried about him. You hoped that he wouldn’t oddly hurt himself, having to take him to the ER and give him a good “I told you so” talk on the way there.

As you worked on your second drink, your phone vibrated in your purse and the screen lit up. You furrowed your eyebrow at the unknown number but still decided to take it in case it was important. You asked your friend to save your seat as you took your purse, moving through the crowd to get outside. The rain was pouring still, but you stood underneath the awning of the bar as people ran under it, drying themselves off before entering.

“Hello? This is Y/N.”

“Y/N? It’s Summer.” She whimpered, her voice at a whisper.

She stole Maggie’s phone that she left on the charger in her room, sneaking it away and using the emergency numbers written on the tag of her backpack. Tom didn’t answer first, making her worried so she decided to call you and hoped to hear your voice she missed so much.

Your heart dropped, “Summer? Are you okay?”

“No, the lady is mean. She makes me go to bed early with no bedtime stories like Daddy said she would. She-she’s not fun and she leaves me with a strange lady next door.” She sniffled, curled up behind her bedroom door.

“Wh-What strange lady?”

“She’s old and mean too. I don’t wanna be here anymore. I wanna be with you and daddy.” Summer continued to cry at a low volume, muffling her whimpers to not let Maggie hear in the next door.

You felt your heart breaking, not sure what to say since she wasn’t your kid but, in a way, she was. You pinched your nose bridge and the heavy rain making it hard to have a clear mind.

“Um, um, have you talked to your dad? Are you safe?” You asked, frantic as her.

“N-no, Daddy didn’t answer. Please come pick me up. I hate it here.” She wept, her voice shakey as she begged.

You nodded, not able to take it anymore, “You wait there, we’re gonna come to get you.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

The time was almost midnight, but a loud knock echoed against Maggie’s door. She groaned, getting herself out of bed and thinking it was a drunk at the wrong apartment or someone playing a prank. As she approached the door, Maggie put her hair into a bun to clear her vision when she approached the door in the dark. After flicking on the light switch for the warm light above her, she opened the door and saw Tom dripping wet.

“Tom?... It’s almost midnight. I told you not to come here again.”

Tom sighed, “Y/N got a call from Summer and she was upset.”

Maggie rolled her eyes, “I can’t believe she took my phone. Jesus, what did you teach her? Because she’s been acting out in school, whenever I’m at work, I can’t take her anywhere!” She complained, her arm slapping against her side as the other held the door open.

“I didn’t teach her that. You’re the one who doesn’t know her and I know you’re not treating her right.”

“Oh, how do you know?”

“You leave her with some strange woman when you’re not here?”

“It’s my mother, Tom. I work, I have an actual job, okay? Not some side gig at a crappy bar where I can live on my tips.” She retorted, but it made Tom’s anger quickly grow.

Tom ran his hand through his wet hair, almost defeated by how defensive she was.

“Why are you doing this? She’s upset and she wants to see me.”

“Well, Summer is just a kid, she’ll get over it. Not getting her way is a part of life, Tom. God! You babied her so much that she just comes crying to you.” Maggie hissed at him, ready to slam the door in his face.

“She is a baby! She’s a kid, Maggie. She called Y/N because she can’t stand you. Do you think that’s good for her? Being here?” Tom yelled back, his jaw clenched and his face heating up.

“You know, I’m getting really sick of you saying what Y/N thinks is good for Summer like she’s her stepmother or something.”

“And where were you being mom of the year? Huh? Why do you have such a problem with her, Maggie? She’s the one who helped me throughout raising Summer, not you because you were never here!”

Maggie crossed her arms, her only defense since she didn’t have any words.

“Where were you when she took her first steps? Her first words? When she got her first A in kindergarten? Did you take her to the hospital when you thought she had a peanut allergy or when she fell ice skating? Who was there for her, Maggie?!” Tom persisted, his eyes filling with tears at how angry he felt.

Maggie couldn’t look Tom in the eyes because it was all true, she knew it this whole time, but hearing it out loud made her even feel a bit guilty.

“So, why do you suddenly want her now? Is it money? Or do you really want her to be in your life? I can arrange it any way you want if you really do what her back in your life, but I don’t think it’s fair that you just swoop up and take her away when she’s my kid too. A kid that I raised since you left her on my doorstep six years ago.”

Maggie chuckled out of spite, “You’d never get it.”

“Then tell me! Tell me so I understand. It’s just us right now. Y/N isn’t here and all I want is Summer back home so, what is the reason, Maggie?” Tom asked, his voice a bit more calm, but still frustrated that he hadn’t gotten a straight answer the entire time they had been standing there, “I know there’s a reason why you didn’t tell me all these years that she wasn’t mine. You know it and I know it… I just want you to be honest with me. Okay?” Tom retorted.

She sighed, stepping outside and closing the door behind her. As she rubbed her hands down her face, her breath was shaky as the truth was trying to inch out of your mouth.

“I… Summer’s dad and I were dating and I told him about her and he was… upset. Like, he thought I was just a bad mom and he said he’d leave me if I didn’t just take care of her.” She huffed, shrugging at how stupid it sounded coming out.

Tom was baffled, but he let her explain herself without interrupting.

“H-He left to Vegas or San Diego or wherever. He left me again and now I just… I wanted to prove myself!” She whined, gritting her teeth as a tear trailed down her cheek, “But, she hates me and I don’t blame her, but I know I’m not a mom. I never… wanted a kid, okay? I just… I wanted him back.”

All Tom thought was that she was selfish. He could yell and scream all he wanted, taking Summer away from her in the next few seconds, but nevertheless, he controlled his breathing and tried to hear her out.

“Anything else?” He asked looking down at his feet, his arms crossed and feeling a chill from the AC.

Her eyes were teary, but she nodded, “Don’t hate me, please. Please.” She begged at a whisper.

“I don’t… Just, do the right thing now and let her come back home.” Tom sighed, his voice broken as well.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

Your body felt on fire from how anxious you felt, your foot tapping against the floor of Tom’s car. You waited, thinking your heart was going to burst in your chest if you had to wait any longer. A few minutes went by, concentrating on the time on the radio, but the heavy rain made the car windows look like stained glass. You hated biting at your nails, but you couldn’t help it after hearing Summer’s scared voice.

You curled up in the passenger seat, pulling on the seatbelt. You couldn’t just sit there anymore and do nothing, but stare at the dashboard and listen to the rain hitting the windshield. Your eyes began to tear up, wiping them quickly with the sleeves of your shirt, but you turned your head when you heard the back door open.

Tom was soaked from head to toe by this point, but Summer was curled around him before he set her on the seats. She had her backpack on, her hair damp and she was in her matching pajamas. Rain dripped off her noise and she wiped her wet forehead with the back of her hand.

“You get buckled in, just buckle in, okay?” Tom told her, still standing in the rain as he gave her the buckle of the seatbelt.

She nodded, guiding it across her body and pushing it in the lock until she heard the click.

“There you go.” He nodded, shutting the door and walking around the front of the car.

You sealed your lips as tears ran down your cheeks, tasting how salty your tears were. When Tom sat down, practically throwing himself into the car, your eyes met and you smiled at him. There was a sense of relief back in your lives at this moment, possibly a perfect one. As you glanced over your shoulder, Summer’s head was against the door and her eyes were heavy, but you reached your hand back to meet hers, holding it so tight that you never could think to let go again.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

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