#i'd give anything to read a fic about them when they were young and tearing up kamurocho together

[woundedheartwithin]

Something something Genda means he and Matsugane didn’t listen to their elders, something something they were just friends not lovers, something something this totally isn’t a direct parallel to Yagami and Kaito’s relationship, something something they’re like brothers not everything has to be gay etc etc etc and so on and so forth [insert toxic dudebro homophobic bullshit here]

[theokusgallery]

What do you think about middle aged sunflower ????

Okay I'm going to pretend I'm normal and didn't just have a conversation about it yesterday within which I had to restrict myself because of Discord's stupid character limit

Anyway. Gonna talk about fanfics briefly, because fics tend to get more complex with characterization.

A while ago, I got really into Marvel, and for two months I did nearly nothing except read spideypool fanfic all day and night. If you know anything about these two (that isn't from the MCU) (I hate the MCU, I hate it so so much, this is not who Spidey fundamentally is, he is supposed to be a friendly neighborhood loner loser and you Cannot just give him an Iron Man suit and a mentorship with Stark and intergalactic missions at 16 or however old he is in those movies when the essence of the character is that he is an average struggling teenager who just happens to get superpowers and fucks up a lot at the beginning of his journey and mostly works alone and quit the fucking Avengers himself) (wow I started rambling sorry. Ignore that), you'll know that they are both around... 25-30ish, currently. Something like that. The only other fandom that I read as many fanfics of was Ace Attorney, where depending on the timeline, they can be from 23 to like, 35 with a kid. So I'd say me being so invested in a ship with 16 year-olds is... kind of an anomaly.

I don't usually like the coming-of-age, teenage love stuff, and I honestly have never found a single sunflower schoolfic I liked (except Spiral of course but even then they're in college) because all of them tend to... infantilize both Sunny and Basil at great length. And also tear down anything that makes them interesting characters. I think a lot of OMORI artists (that includes writers) are very afraid of doing anything substantial with teenagers, despite, you know, the actual plot of the game, and as a result, a lot of the time most fics where the characters aren't aged up tend to be... incredibly boring. Of course there are some that are good — exceptional even — but in the end all I can think of is the huge gap in... quality? that sounds wrong to say about a creative thing... interesting-ness, let's say (a very personal and subjective concept), when I stopped reading Marvel and went back to OMORI. I stopped reading fanfics altogether because I just couldn't find one I liked as much as the average Marvel fic that I hadn't already read.

Maybe it's a result of the writers themselves being young? I know OMORI's fanbase is generally a lot younger than Marvel's, so that could affect it. I mentioned schoolfics because there's a lot of them and because they were mentioned in my rant yesterday, but it's not really about the fact that they're schoolfics, it's about the fact that more often than not, the setting is the plot, and since it's just your average highschooler writing their favorite blorbos into their own environment and projecting (which is very cool btw, 99% of my own writing is projecting), the plot is... basically nonexistant. It's boring. It's boring and the characterization is usually dull. But even outside of schoolfics, I think I stopped trying to read fics that start with Sunny getting out of the hospital after the True Ending for the same reason : it's often plain and plotless and boring. And, fuck, my favorite books and mangas and such are slice of life, I'm all for mundane plots! But there's a difference between a mundane plot/realism and just no plot at all.

(This is not, like, an attack of OMORI writers who make schoolfics or fics that start with the above mentioned premise, btw, I want to make that very clear. It's very much a personal preference. I think it's boring because all of the fics I read in Marvel had a very unique plot/premise is my point. And also because the characters were a lot more mature and complex. Different strokes for different folks)

I think that's what I'm kind of sad about. OMORI characters tend to be complex and morally grey in their own way, and people tend to forget about that because they're teenagers and obviously no one can do no wrong before the ripe age of 18. Children are all innocent and therefore cannot be more morally complex than cinnamon roll soft boys/girls (looking pointedly at Sunny, Aubrey and Basil. But mostly Basil). Also, I think people tend to straight-up forget that 16 year-olds aren't, like, 10? Of course they're not going to be as mature as grown adults, especially Sunny OMORI, Dissociative Amnesia World Champion, but like... When I was 16 reading OMORI fanfics, half the time I was like "a 16 year-old would not fucking say that". But also generally more mature characters are inevitably more interesting to explore to me because I prefer more mature themes — I'm simply extremely upset at the fact that people don't explore the complexity that's already there when they're 16, including the very mature themes that are already there.

TL;DR: I love middle aged sunflower, I love middle aged ships in general ! In fact, I will tend to prefer sunflower when it's aged up.

(... I probably should've led with that.)

[apocalypticavolition]

Let's (re)Read the Hobbit! Chapters 13 & 14

Wow so Tears of the Kingdom sure happened. I don't know what to do with my life now that I'm no longer ridiculously obsessive, but I guess I should become literate again? It seems like I should just be 100%-ing both Switch Zeldas but... it would be nice to finish something.

In the meanwhile, the dwarves sat in darkness, and utter silence fell about them.

Am I supposed to think this isn't their natural habitat? Are they not dwarves? Isn't mining their chief activity?

But somehow, just when the dwarves were most despairing, Bilbo felt a strange lightening of the heart, as if a heavy weight had gone from under his waistcoat.

I was going to joke that this is just because Bilbo is competent and no one else is, but to be fairer to the dwarves really this has something to do with the fact that Bilbo can be invisible and thus has way better odds of surviving anything than them. I'd be despairing too, despite Bilbo's quoting his dad.

At length Mr. Baggins could bear it no longer. “Confound you, Smaug, you worm!” he squeaked aloud. “Stop playing hide-and-seek! Give me a light, and then eat me, if you can catch me!”

Past Bilbo is of course having conniptions at the thought of addressing a dragon in any way, let alone this way in particular.

As Thorin carefully explained, Mr. Baggins was still officially their expert burglar and investigator.

Y'all really should have checked his references. "Hobbit fact: All hobbits are expert burglars!" is probably something Gandalf said when he was seven cups and six bowls in.

His small hand would not close about it, for it was a large and heavy gem; but he lifted it, shut his eyes, and put it in his deepest pocket.

"Is that an Arkenstone in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?" - a small taste of the Hobbit smut fic I will never, ever write, much to humanity's relief

All the same he had an uncomfortable feeling that the picking and choosing had not really been meant to include this marvellous gem, and that trouble would yet come of it.

You can tell that the Shire is meant to be where England will end up by the confidence in which its inhabitants claim the sacred cultural artifacts of others for their own use.

“Now what on earth or under it has happened?” said Thorin. “Certainly not the dragon, or he would not go on squeaking.”

Thorin is going to be a dick to the end, I see. So many more charitable verbs my dude.

The dwarves indeed no longer needed any urging. All were now eager to explore the hall while they had the chance, and willing to believe that, for the present, Smaug was away from home.

Okay my bros but what about the immediate future? This is not the time to get all gold lusty. There's a dragon on the loose! Or at least, you think there is, and that's dangerous enough.

With that he put on Bilbo a small coat of mail, wrought for some young elf-prince long ago. It was of silver-steel, which the elves call mithril, and with it went a belt of pearls and crystals. A light helm of figured leather, strengthened beneath with hoops of steel, and studded about the brim with white gems, was set upon the hobbit’s head.

Hey, this'll be relevant later. But also, a belt of pearls and crystals? That hardly seems practical, even by elvish standards.

“I would give a good many of these precious goblets,” he thought, “for a drink of something cheering out of one of Beorn’s wooden bowls!”

Way to be blatant about your messaging, Tolkien.

“This is the great chamber of Thror,” said Thorin; “the hall of feasting and of council. Not far off now is the Front Gate.”

Seems like an odd combination. The place is great as a hall of feasting; huge and blessed with fresh air. But is it good for council? I'd prefer a more intimate setting myself.

They passed through the ruined chamber. Tables were rotting there; chairs and benches were lying there overturned, charred and decaying. Skulls and bones were upon the floor among flagons and bowls and broken drinking-horns and dust.

All joking aside, Tolkien does ruin beautifully, doesn't he?

“How far is that?” asked the hobbit. “Five hours march, I should think.”

Not to sound too much like a hobbit, but if you're not getting to eat until afternoon, it's hardly breakfast is it? Not that this is Balin's fault; you really can't be too careful about your choice of eatery when a dragon's on the loose.

“That won’t be till Smaug’s dead,” said Bilbo glumly. “In the meanwhile where is he? I would give a good breakfast to know. I hope he is not up on the Mountain looking down at us!”

If GRRM wrote this book, this is exactly when they'd be immolated by Smaug, directly above them. Luckily, the real dramatic irony is that Smaug is already dead!

If you want to know what cram is, I can only say that I don’t know the recipe; but it is biscuitish, keeps good indefinitely, is supposed to be sustaining, and is certainly not entertaining, being in fact very uninteresting except as a chewing exercise.

For those of you who read this description and think, "Finally, something more bland than pilot bread for my easily overstimulated taste buds!", check out Feast of Starlight's recipe which can be found on most major search engines.

...really, you insist on being linked? Very well. Here you go.

In all their talk they came perpetually back to one thing: where was Smaug? They looked West and there was nothing, and East there was nothing, and in the South there was no sign of the dragon, but there was a gathering of very many birds.

Obviously he clipped through the ground and is now flying through the infinite void. Keep up boys. But anyway, they have no idea and set out and we cut to another chapter, stepping back in time a little.

“Perhaps the King under the Mountain is forging gold,” said another. “It is long since he went North. It is time the songs began to prove themselves again.”

This seems remarkably optimistic, but I suppose spending generations under the shadow of a dragon and having almost nothing bad happen ever makes one numb to the threats.

“You are always foreboding gloomy things!” said the others. “Anything from floods to poisoned fish. Think of something cheerful!”

This is too real and I now hope that all these Laketown idiots die like the climate change deniers they are. Sadly, it's not to be.

Every vessel in the town was filled with water, every warrior was armed, every arrow and dart was ready, and the bridge to the land was thrown down and destroyed, before the roar of Smaug’s terrible approach grew loud, and the lake rippled red as fire beneath the awful beating of his wings.

Of all the things that gets ripped off from the Legendarium, why not more Laketowns? Beautifully scenic, defensive, and easily fireproof one way or another. Dear fantasy writers, please steal Laketown more often.

No fireworks you ever imagined equalled the sights that night.

I dunno, this one New Year's Eve the university accidentally set off all of its fireworks at once and it was the most spectacular five minute performance of fireworks I ever saw.

Fire leaped from thatched roofs and wooden beam-ends as he hurtled down and past and round again, though all had been drenched with water before he came. Once more water was flung by a hundred hands wherever a spark appeared. Back swirled the dragon. A sweep of his tail and the roof of the Great House crumbled and smashed down. Flames unquenchable sprang high into the night. Another swoop and another, and another house and then another sprang afire and fell; and still no arrow hindered Smaug or hurt him more than a fly from the marshes.

Good, everyone except Bard deserves this.

He was a descendant in long line of Girion, Lord of Dale, whose wife and child had escaped down the Running River from the ruin long ago.

You know, this info might have been better placed in the chapter where the dwarves were in Laketown instead of this guy only being introduced properly now. It's kinda outta nowhere.

The black arrow sped straight from the string, straight for the hollow by the left breast where the foreleg was flung wide. In it smote and vanished, barb, shaft and feather, so fierce was its flight. With a shriek that deafened men, felled trees and split stone, Smaug shot spouting into the air, turned over and crashed down from on high in ruin.

RIP Smaug. You deserved better than to go out like a Legend of Zelda boss to a DMPC, but it was not to be. Hopefully some other dragons in the Legendarium did some damage.

But they had really much to be thankful for, had they thought of it, though it could hardly be expected that they should just then: three quarters of the people of the town had at least escaped alive; their woods and fields and pastures and cattle and most of their boats remained undamaged; and the dragon was dead.

It takes surviving a special kind of war to go, "Yeah only 1 in every 4 people you ever knew are dead, that's a lot to be thankful for." I for one, will be grateful that my wish came one quarter true.

“In the Lake-town we have always elected masters from among the old and wise, and have not endured the rule of mere fighting men.

I mean I'm all for forcibly retiring the elderly as much as the next person who's spent their whole lives struggling under the Boomer Gerontocracy, but I can't really get behind the whole "Fuck elections" thing.

That said the Master is totally asking for his being deposed.

Who obtained of us rich gifts and ample help, and led us to believe that old songs could come true? Who played on our soft hearts and our pleasant fancies? What sort of gold have they sent down the river to reward us? Dragon-fire and ruin!

He's not even wrong, which is impressive.

Then even as he was speaking, the thought came into his heart of the fabled treasure of the Mountain lying without guard or owner, and he fell suddenly silent.

Did Sauron make the Arkenstone? I mean damn it's got more of a pull than the titular dude's soon-to-be titular jewelry.

Many took ill of wet and cold and sorrow that night, and afterwards died, who had escaped uninjured from the ruin of the town; and in the days that followed there was much sickness and great hunger.

One wonders what percentage of the town dropped dead this time. It sounds like quite a large number. Not so much to be thankful for, is it? Unless you're me. Maybe another quarter died! Wish half true!

Even before the Elvenking rode forth the news had passed west right to the pinewoods of the Misty Mountains; Beorn had heard it in his wooden house, and the goblins were at council in their caves.

It's a Mirkwood Wide Web! Convenient for drama, but also cool in its esoteric nature.

...he was the lord of a good and kindly people...

Was he? The last we saw, they spent ages tormenting the dwarves and Bilbo with magic feasts and whatnot. Seems to me that they're helping out for fear that if Laketown doesn't recover their booze imports could be interrupted more than any particular kindness.

It was thus that in eleven days from the ruin of the town the head of their host passed the rock-gates at the end of the lake and came into the desolate lands.

And that's two more chapters! As we're now some ways ahead of Bilbo and crew, the question remains: how many breakfasts has Bilbo missed since we last saw him? We'll find out next time. Thank goodness I'm not into Diablo or this reread would really take awhile.

[bruhstories]

Fate

Summary: The Abduction of Persephone or how Levi couldn’t get you of his head.

Pairing: Hades!Levi x Persephone!Reader

Warnings & Content: nsfw, mentions of rape & incest (cause, you know, Zeus is a fucking entitled asshole and nobody fucking likes him), unprotected sex, oral sex (male receiving), fingering, language, loss of virginity

Word Count: 5.1 k

A/N: literally the only thing I have to say is that for the purpose of this fic, Hanji has she/her pronouns, and the first few paragraphs are written in third person xD happy reading!

Help me...

Please...

Help... me...

Sweat drips from his forehead and his eyes shoot open. That damned dream again. That sweet voice again. Levi Hades can't comprehend why he was dreaming. Gods don'tdream. His bed seems empty, but he never needed anyone in it. For some reason, now he feels like someone is missing. He gets up, naked body and blank eyes watching over his realm from the balcony of his castle. Empty. Other than the souls of the dead that quietly dance around like little flames, it's empty. Other than Cerberus sleeping peacefully, it's empty. And so damn cold. Mortals mistaken the Underworld for a scorching hot place, but in reality, it's as cold as Levi Hades' heart. If he even has a heart.

He wraps his toga around his sculpted body, a wreath of laurels on his coal-black hair, donning his arms with silver bracelets and rings. Time doesn't exist in the world of the dead, but Levi Hades sticks to a strict schedule. He waves his hand and a scroll and quill magically appear on his marble desk. He can't trust Hermes with this message, and so he gives it to one of his dogs to deliver it to Hanji Hecate. Who better to interpret the meaning of his dream than the goddess of witchcraft herself? LeviHades surrounds himself in thick, grey smoke before he disappears from his bedroom.

Somewhere on Earth, Y/N Persephone is being watched by Zeus. The powerful god cannot resist such a beauty, and he is known for having his way with anyone, even his own daughter. But it's not her time, he thinks, not just yet. She knows this, she knows what will happen to her when she reaches the age of marriage, and at night, when not a soul is awake, she sobs and prays that someone will find her and help her. She is willing to do anything to escape her father's clutches and her dark future. And every night she cries, it rains — it pours.

At the outskirts of the Underworld, Hanji Hecate receives a message. She reads it carefully, and a knot forms in her stomach. The goddess heard the pleas of a girl, whom she believed to be a mortal, but if Levi Hades heard her, too, then it could only be another deity. HanjiHecate closes her eyes and performs a spell in the hopes of locating the desperate girl. It doesn't work. It doesn't work because, unbeknownst to her, Demeter is hiding her daughter from the preying eyes of Zeus.

They searched for weeks, mortal weeks, for the crying goddess, but none of them had any luck. Y/N Persephone is somewhere in the shadows of Demeter, but even she knows her mother can't protect her forever. Zeus gets what Zeus wants eventually. The sun rises over the meadow, but Y/N Persephone doesn't know that because she's stuck weaving in a cave, sweat dripping down her forehead, hairs sticking to her face. The drakons Demeter placed at the entrance of the cave followed Y/N Persephone outside, guarding her as she washes herself in a nearby stream. He isn't supposed to be there. Levi Hades isn't supposed to peer at her naked body and the way she splashes the crystal-clear water. He was supposed to meet with Hanji Hecate and take a walk. He was supposed to go back to the Underworld after that. Yet here he is, spellbound by her gestures, her face, her eyes. And then, she sings. Y/N Persephone begins to sing and all the flowers around him bloom. Levi Hades goes into a shocked state, eyes wide open, brows raised. He knows that voice. He knows it because he's been dreaming it. His scent is picked up by the drakons and he disappears, leaving behind a trail of smoke.

"I found her, Hecate. I found her, but I can't get close to her."

"What do you mean you found her? Just like that?" Hanji Hecate's fingers trace the bark of a tree.

"It was fate. It must be." Levi Hades is desperate now.

"Calm down, Hades. I've never seen you so... twitchy." She laughs, kneeling in the grass. The witch plays with some fallen leaves, brown hair flowing in the wind.

"That's because you didn't see what I did. She started singing and flowers bloomed! I don't know what kind of nymph she is, but she is beautiful. Nothing like I've ever seen before."

"Oh, I never thought I'd live to see the day Hades falls in love." Hanji Hecate laughs again. "So why didn't you approach her?"

"Tch, because she was surrounded by drakons. I don't understand why a mere nymph would need so much protection."

The goddess gasps, all traces of happiness gone from her face, replaced by disappointment and anxiety. Levi Hades takes notice of this and places his cold hand on the witch's shoulder, but she flinches.

"You can't have her."

"You knowher?" His voice is condescending, offended that his good friend hid something like this from him.

"Hades, she's Demeter's daughter, Persephone. She's not just some nymph, but the goddess of spring." Hanji Hecate brings her palms together, forming a triangle. "We can't talk here."

Levi Hades nods and lets himself transported to the Underworld, back to the familiar souls lingering in the air.

"Talk, Hecate." He is impatient and demanding, arms folded across his chest.

"Zeus wants her, and Demeter and I are keeping her hidden." The deity explains with pain in her voice.

"Yes, well, you're not doing a very good job, now, are you?"

"Oi, the drakons noticed you. You don't think they would notice Zeus?" She snaps back, traces of arrogance in her voice.

"Hecate... it's Zeus. What would stop that brat from turning into a drakon fool her?"

The goddess shivers, shifting her weight from side to side.

"Do you have a better idea?"

"I do, actually. I'll bring Persephone here." LeviHades proudly states, but his face is still blank, not once betraying his true feelings.

"You'll... what?" Her mouth is slightly open, bewildered by the god.

"It's the only place Zeus doesn't have access without an invitation. Face it, Hecate, it's a good plan. Better than yours, anyway."

Hanji Hecate is speechless, completely at a loss for words. She ponders over the idea, a hand brought to her chin to think better.

"Alright, but what makes you think she'll just stroll through the gates of the Underworld without a complaint?"

"Oh, you've mistaken my words. I'll forcefully bring her here." He tilts his head, a semblance of a smirk on his lips.

"For fuck's sake, Hades, she's not what you'd expect. And what about me? I promised Demeter I would protect her!" HanjiHecate throws her hands in the air, her shadow taking the form of a raging dog.

"Do notchallenge me, witch. You know I can destroy you in the blink of an eye." LeviHades growls and her shadow restores itself to its natural shape. "Besides, you would still protect her. The Underworld is where you abide."

She knows she shouldn't carelessly be out in the open one hour before her coming of age. But Y/N Persephone, with tears streaming down her beautiful face, embraced her future. She knows Zeus will come for her, and so she willingly gives herself to him. With poppy seeds, she put the drakons to sleep and left the cave, clad in a sheer toga, her body visible through the transparent fabric.

"If you want me, come and get me, father!" Y/N Persephone screams at the skies, the flora surrounding her slowly turning a dark shade of brown and dying, just like her innocence would die tonight. The earth shatters behind her, marigold flames and ashy smoke cracking open the soil. Shadowy figures emerge, grasping the young goddess' limbs and they drag her down, down, down to the Underworld. She is afraid, her heart beats faster as the moonlight disappears, and all she can see is darkness.

"I'm sorry I couldn't be gentler, but I didn't want Zeus to get the wrong idea."

"You're Hades, aren't you?"

"Yes, but please, call me Levi. Persephone, I presume." Levi doesn't smile, but his voice is warm, contrasting the cold that surrounded your body.

"Don't call me that." You spit back, confused as to why you were in his realm in the first place.

"You should be a little more grateful that I saved you, brat." He narrows his eyes down at you.

"Saved me? You abductedme. You're no better than him."

Hanji Hecate was right, you had fire in your soul, and an attitude that would drive Levi over the edge.

"Tch, don't compare me to that pretentious cock." The god scoffs and your expression softens.

"Zeus is a... cock? With a beak and feathers?" You giggle and he almost wants punch himself. How could he forget how innocent you are? Clearly, he's been spending too much time with Minthe.

"That's one way to put it."

"Is there another way?" You ask with your index finger brought to your lips, pure curiosity in your eyes.

"Forget that, you said you didn't want me to call you Persephone. How else should I address you?"

"Y/N." You tell him, eyes peering to the balcony of his castle and you skip to it. "Oh, this place is huge! What are those?" You point at the colourful flames dancing in the air.

"Souls." Levi joins you, resting his arms on the marble railing.

"They're beautiful!" You are in awe, and he is just as mesmerised by your beauty. Not one sane god or goddess would consider the souls of the dead beautiful.

"Look, Y/N, I heard you. In my dreams, I mean. I'm not going to hurt you, I brought you here to rescue you." He lies through his teeth. Levi did want to save you, he still does, but he can't deny the fact that he wanted you all to himself. "I'm gonna mind my own business, you mind yours. Try not to break anything. And don't, under any circumstances, make a mess out of my castle, or my realm."

You lean on the railing, nose scrunched and a hand on your hip.

"What am I supposed to do, then? And what about my mother? What about when spring comes and I have to bring it? What about Zeus?"

Levi grits his teeth, almost regretting his decision of saving you.

"Tch, I'll deal with Demeter. I'll tell Zeus I'm marrying you. You can go bring spring when it's due. Happy?" He pinches the bridge of his nose.

"And you won't taint my innocence?"

Oh, he will taint it, alright. But not just yet.

"I won't do anything you don't want me to do."

"You still didn't answer my first question. What am I supposed to do?" You shift your weight from one leg to the other, impatiently waiting for a proper answer from your captor.

"Anything you want, just don't get in my way when I'm dealing with the dead."

"You're an aggressive little man, you know that?"

Levi can feel a blood vessel bursting on his forehead. You were truly annoying, but he couldn't just sit around and wait for Zeus to have his way with you.

"Anyway, I suppose it is safer to be here." You rolled your eyes. "Got any books?"

"What, you read?" He snorts, a condescending brow arched.

"Don't patronise me. You're the one who abducted me, you could at least try to be nice to me."

Levi sighs. This wasn't how he imagined things would go. He imagined you'd make the perfect housewife and keep him some company.

"First floor. Just stay out of the restricted section."

"Why?"

"Because I said so. Zeus' beard, are you always this irritating?"

"Are you?" You chuckle, a hand hiding your smile.

With another sigh, Levi disappears, leaving you alone. "Great job, Y/N, you made the only person who took a crumb of pity on you to go away." You say to yourself, a pout on your lips.

The Underworld wasn't as bad as you thought. Sure, there was the occasional fire popping from the ground here and there, and you had to be careful not to burn yourself, but overall, it was serene. Some parts of it were scorching hot, but mostly it was cold, and you always brought an extra cloak with you when exploring the realm. Levi wasn't always with you, in fact you haven't seen him in days, but you met his three-headed puppy. Well, puppy wasn't the best word to describe the creature, and it did try to eat you the first time, but you stood your ground and tamed the beast with your singing and eager belly rubs.

"This is a sight I never thought I'd live to see." Levi is shocked, watching his raging dog so calm. "Cerberus never lets anyone but me touch him." He gives the dog a few pats on his back.

"Well, Cerberus likes me better, don't you? Who's a good boy? You are, yes, you are!" You kiss all three muzzles and hug the gigantic beast, the heat of its fuzzy body warming you up.

"Oi, don't get ahead of yourself. Come here, Cerberus." Levi extends his arms and the creature is confused. "I said, come here."

The dog stops wagging its tail and plops next to you with a groan, one head resting in your arms. The shit-eating grin on your face is enough to make Levi sigh.

"See? I told you he likes me better." You poke your tongue out in triumph. You wave your hands and the god watches how you place three daffodil wreaths on each of Cerberus' heads. "Much better!"

"Y/N, he looks silly."

"No, he looks adorable! Here, I made you one, too."

Levi takes the flower crown and inspects it, careful not to crumble the petals.

"What is this?" He asks, marvelling at the beauty of the ice-blue colour of the plant.

"Uh, a flower crown?"

"Yeah, no shit. I meant what flower is this?"

"Oh, it's a blue poppy. One of the rarest plants in the world." You smile. "I think it suits you."

"You're an oddball."

You sit in a lavish chair, all kinds of foods displayed on the table in front of you. Saliva pools in your mouth, but you decide to wait for Levi anyway. It's bad manners to start eating without the host, Demeter taught you that. Gods and goddess don't eat mortal foods, but sometimes they indulge in it, and tonight was one of those nights.

"Here, try this." Levi offers you a strange fruit, something humans have on earth, but different.

"What is it?" You poke your finger at the juicy fruit, sucking the sweetness from your digit.

"It's a pomegranate that only grows in the Underworld."

You pick at the seeds, popping one in your mouth. You couldn't believe something so good could grow in a cold place like this.

"So, what's the occasion?" You ask Levi as you eat three more seeds, the crimson juice staining your lips.

"Our wedding."

You accidentally swallow, choking on saliva and the pomegranate seeds, your fist hammering your chest as you gasp for air.

"What?"

"I told Zeus I'm marrying you and now he wants proof." Levi bluntly states, a chalice of nectar in his hand.

"No."

"You don't have a choice, unfortunately."

"But… I'm supposed to be a virgin. Marriage implies consumption of it." You slam your fists on the table. "My mother-"

"Your mother lied to you. You're a goddess of fertility for fuck's sake." He shrugs and you're shocked by how chilling his voice sounds. Sure, Levi was always brooding and silent, but now he was just inconsiderate. "However, I'm not a man who breaks his promises. I told you I won't do anything you don't want me to."

"Oh, how niceof you. I'm leaving." You stand up, pushing the chair away.

"And go where? Demeter can't protect you forever, and you don't stand a chance against Zeus."

"You know why I hate my name so much, Levi?" You growl, fingernails digging into the wooden table.

"Do, tell."

"Because it means destruction. A fitting name for a goddess of ‘fertility’, don't you think?" The table splits open and all the plates fall to the ground. Your normal, bubbly aura changes suddenly and there's a hint of red in your Y/E/C eyes. "You think I don't stand a chance against Zeus? I'm his offspring." You snap, and instead of flowers falling out of your hair, there's thorns, spikes and rusty leaves all over the place. The uglies, most poisonous plants sprout from the ground and you're no longer the goddess of spring, but the bringer of slaughter, and Levi is impressed. Now he really knows it was faith that brought you together, he knows your place is with him — with the dead.

"Marry me." He says, unmoved by your little show. Unmoved on the outside, because on the inside he wants to bend you over and fuck you silly. His words shouldfuel your rage, but you're too surprised by the fact that he still wants to marry you, despite your outburst.

"Why? Because Zeus wants that?" Vines protrude from your skin and your fingernails turn black. You were completely different than the helpless little girl he rescued that night. You were terrifying. But not to Levi — to him you were fascinating.

"Because I want that."

It was safe to say you had fallen in love with Levi in those nine months since you came to the Underworld. He accepted you the way you were, he accepted your darkness, something not even your mother could do, and that's what triggered your feelings for the god of the dead. You still didn't allow him to call you Persephone, because you still hadn't fully embraced that part of you. Spring was almost due, but you promised Levi you'd go to earth after your wedding. Everyone would be there, including Demeter, which you haven't seen in a long time.

A soft knock interrupts your thoughts.

"Y/N, are you ready?"

"In a second, Hanji!"

"Oh, thank the gods for calling me that. I keep telling everyone I'm tired of Hecate but they don't care." The witch scoffs from the other side of the door.

"Has my mother arrived?" You ask, concern visible in your voice.

"Yes. And she's not happy."

"Hey," you open the door, "thanks for taking the blame and explaining things to her." You hug the goddess and she holds you tight.

"Don't worry about it, kid. It's me who should thank you. I don't know what you did to Levi, but he seems happier. He won't show it because he's a prick, but I can feel it."

You flash Hanji a genuine smile and ask her to fix your veil, to which she gladly accepts before escorting you to the castle grounds. Your mother should do this, but she hated her future groom, or your father, but he was a sick man who only decided to leave you alone because he respected Levi.

Every god and goddess of Olympus is here, even your uncle Poseidon. You emerge from the castle, arm looped around Hanji's and you smirk at Levi's shock. He never thought you could be more beautiful, yet here you are, dressed in silk, flowers on your hand and a thin veil clinging from the peony crown on your head. You catch a glimpse of Demeter before drifting your eyes to your future husband.

"Ladies and gentlemen, gods and goddesses, we have gathered here today to witness and bless the union between Levi, god of the Underworld, and Y/N, goddess of spring." Hanji proudly declares. The ceremony doesn't last too long, and when Levi's lips crush yours in what is your first kiss, thousands upon thousands of plants sprout from the soil, colourful flowers blooming and letting out the sweetest smells known to mankind. Love, he thinks, that's what love smells like.

You're tired from the party, tired from all the talking and mingling, tired from your mother's lecture, and tired from avoiding your father. At least Hera was nice enough to wish you a happy marriage. You pace around your bedroom, sitting on the bed, then standing up again. Levi went to his chamber after the party, but you were expecting, no, you wanted to consume the marriage. You walk to his room, a toga lazily draped over your shoulders, and open the door without a single knock. He's in bed, the only light source being the colourful souls levitating outside his windows. You carefully push the covers and climb into the bed, gently scooching closer to him.

"Psst, husband, are you sleeping?" You poke his shoulder.

"Tch, not anymore." He sighs, not bothering to open his eyes and look at you. "What do you want?"

"Well, I'm glad you asked! Seeing as we're married now, I thought it's only natural for a wife to sleep with her husband." You roll on your side, propping yourself on your elbow. Tentatively, you tug on the fabric of the toga, exposing your shoulders and part of your breasts.

"So sleep." Levi finally lolls his head to the side, facing you. He did not expect to see you sprawled on his bed like that, in a lewd position and a playful smile on your soft lips. "You don't have to do this just because we're married.

"I'm doing it because I want to. And I know you want it, too, Levi." You purr, your fingers grazing over your collarbone.

"It's going to hurt." He warns you, but his hand is already on your thigh.

"I know. But you'll take good care of me, won't you?"

Levi has no idea which one of you is talking — Y/N, goddess of spring, or Y/N, goddess of destruction — and frankly he doesn't even care at this point. As long as he has your approval, he knows he can do whatever he wants. You pull him into a sloppy kiss, obviously inexperienced, but he likes it that way. He likes that you have no idea what you're doing because he can be in control. His hand runs up and down your thigh and you can feel heat building in your core.

"Tingles..." You mumble in his lips with a hazy smile.

"Have you ever touched yourself?" Levi pulls away and you nod. "Show me."

You feel embarrassed and small, but obey nonetheless. Your hand travels between your legs and your fingers touch your already swollen clit, rubbing it in circular motions. Levi watches you with hungry eyes, wanting very hard to abstain, but he can't, and so he takes your nipple in his hot mouth. You whimper at the new sensation, electricity shooting through your body as he snakes a hand between your thighs, two fingers diving into your cunt.

"Ah! L-Levi! So big!" You mewl and he throws his head back, releasing your poor nipple.

"That's nothing compared to what you'll get, you needy brat." He curls his fingers, hitting that sweet spot, and you buck your hips. Despite being a virgin, your body naturally knows what to do. Your spongy walls clench around his digits and Levi can already feel how tight you'll be around his cock. "You're so wet."

"Is t-that a good thing?" You're innocent and pure and you rock your hips back and forth, pathetic moans escaping your lips.

"Fuck, yes." Levi kisses you, and it's nothing like the kiss from your wedding. It's desperate and greedy, and he wants you all to himself. The pace quickens, he's pumping his fingers in and out of you faster and you don't know what to do, so you keep rubbing your clit and the familiar heat of your orgasm flushes through your body. You come undone on his hand, the sinful, squelching sound echoing in the bedroom.

"It didn't hurt at all!" You look at your husband, but there's a hint of mischief in your voice, a playful glisten in your eyes. Levi clicks his tongue, because the worst — and best — is yet to come, and you know it — you're no saint.

"Come here." Levi orders and yanks you by the hair, his aggressive gesture sending a shiver down your spine and into your cunt. "Be a good girl and open that pretty mouth for me."

You obey and part your luscious lips and then you see his cock for the first time — thick and veiny, it slaps your face as it pops out of his undergarments, the tip grazing over your cheeks.

"Levi that's... that's too big." You chew your lower lip and lean back.

"You'll be fine. You said it yourself, I'll take good care of you." He cups your face with one hand, thumb caressing your chin. "Now suck it. Make sure to use lots of spit."

You feel your cheeks hot and test the waters by giving the glistening tip a few licks, tongue swirling around it. It tastes salty, and you find yourself liking this. Levi pats your head, but you feel him tensing with each movement of your tongue.

"Shit." He curses under his breath and when you look up at him with doe eyes, his heart pounds into his chest. You courageously take the tip into your mouth, and with hollowed cheeks, you move further. "Yeah, just like that. Take it all."

Bobbing your head up and down, you try to take it all, but the girth and length is just too much, and tears pool at your eyes from the lack of air, but also from how good it feels to have a fat cock in your mouth. Muffled moans reverberate in your throat, and Levi can feel the vibrations tickling him. He firmly grabs your nape and holds your head in place.

"Trust me and relax, can you do that for me?"

You half-nod, anxious and somewhat excited for what is about to happen. Your husband rocks his hips back and forth slowly before aggressively fucking your poor throat, and you feel the arousal building in your core again. So much for promising your mother you'd always stay a virgin. You want to touch yourself again, but Levi slaps your hand away and thrusts into your mouth, holding your head still until you choke, your fingernails digging into his arm. The god pulls out and you gasp for air, and he almost feels sorry when he sees your pathetic state.

"A-again!" You flash him your pearls in a sultry smile, spit dripping down your chin. Who knew you liked asphyxiation?

"Needy brat."

"Please!"

"Tch, later. Right now, I want to fuck you." Levi growls and he already has you pinned on the bed, arms above your head and legs spread open for him. His cock presses against your slick slit and you brace yourself for the incoming pain. "If you want me to stop, tell me."

You don't have the time to nod when you feel a burning sensation between your legs. Squeezing your eyes shut, you bury the back of your head into the pillow and grip the sheets so tight your knuckles begin to lose their colour. Levi slowly pushes further, another inch buried in your cunt, and you bite on your lower lip. But you don't tell him to stop, instead your spongy walls clench around his cock and another inch gets lost in you.

You never thought gods could feel such immense pain, yet here you are, with a bloody lip from digging your teeth into it and a sore pussy. But the worst thing faded bit by bit when Levi bottomed out into your cunt. The two of you sit still, your husband allowing you to get used to his girth.

"Do you think I bled?" You ask, eyes filled with tears.

"Probably, but I promise it will never hurt like this from now on." He comforts you before licking the blood from your lips. The gesture makes your cunt flutter and Levi takes it as a sign to go on. Slowly, he rocks his hips back and forth, and the molten pain is replaced by tingles and arousal.

"You good?"

"Y-yes, oh, f- yes!"

"You can say fuck, you know?" Levi thrusts once, and it's so deep you feel his cock brush over your cervix.

"Fuck!" You cry out, legs wrapping around his waist to make sure he doesn't pull out. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

"Good girl."

There's no more room for gentle touches and soothing words when your husband fucks you raw. Your hips buck against his to feel that sweet pressure you never knew you longed for. In and out, his cock makes you feel sore and hazy, and you want more. The sound of his balls slapping your ass makes your mouth water and your eyes glossy, and Levi feels selfish. He pulls out, turns you over and takes you from behind, like a rabid dog fucking a bitch in heat. And you are in heat — you love the way his thrusts make you feel dumb, the way his cock stretches you, the way he uses and abuses your tight little cunt. Everything is so new to you and you adore every bit of it.

"Shit, I'm close." Levi warns you, his fingers digging into your hips, and you want to be good for him, so you drag your hand between your thighs and rub your swollen clit in frantic motions.

"L-Leeevi! I think I'm-"

"Fuck!"

When you feel a hot liquid shooting into you, your legs begin to tremble and you come on his cock, head falling onto the pillow with a heavy sigh. He pulls out and you already miss the feeling of being full, your juices mixed with his own dripping down out of you, down your thigh. You curl up next to your husband, hand holding his arm before you drift to sleep.

A sweet smell fills Levi's nostrils and when he looks at your tired body, there’s flowers in your messy hair. He still can't get used to the way your divine, disorganised powers work, but at least now he knows what's been missing from his life, and the corners of his mouth slightly twist upwards into a genuine smile. The god of the dead, in love with and married to the goddess of spring. Order and chaos blending together in one beautiful, perfectly arranged mess.

It’s fate. It must be fate that brought you together — but it’s love that will keep you together.

tagging @starrynightlys @stolemyheart12

[millenialfanfictionaddiction]

Go Go Nekoma! Push it, Push it Nekoma! Coaches Chemisty (pt. 1)

Warnings: Angst, breakups, mention of virginity loss, Swearing

⚠️THIS FIC IS 18+ NSFW, MINORS DNI ⚠️

Word count: 6000+ (split into 3 parts)

"I'm really sorry Y/N. I just don't see this going anywhere. We are both leaving for college soon and going to different schools at that" your boyfriend of the past 2 years, Naoi Manabu said as he looked down to the ground kicking the dirt below his feet.

Your eyes watered as you drown out the words he's saying.

"B-but we can make this work. I can come see you on weekends and we can still see each other over holidays and school breaks" you plead trying to save a relationship you know is doomed.

The past weeks had been rough to say the least. Manabu had been growing distant from you. Making excuses and staying later for volleyball practice to avoid walking home with you. To say it hurt would be an understatement. It broke your heart.

"Y/N I'm sorry, I just can't do this" Manabu said as he looked up seeing tears welling in your eyes.

"I love you. Doesn't that mean anything?" You say sternly as tears roll down your cheeks.

"Y/N-" he starts saying as you place your hand in front of his face.

"No. Don't. I gave you everything. I stuck by you through it all! I stayed late to walk with you home from volleyball practice. I came to as many games as I could! I stayed up late helping you study! Fuck I gave you my virginity!" You scream.

The emotions are just too overwhelming.

"Y/N-" Manabu tries to say as you turn.

"No. I'm done. Good luck with your life Naoi" you turn away letting the tears flow as you start to jog away.

Almost on cue the sky opens up and rain pours down on your head. This is just like one of those awful romance novels. The girl gets dumped by the love of her life only for rain to continue to dampen her day. Just fucking fantastic.

This was quite literally the worst day of your life.

*8 years later*

"Y/N darling can you please water the flowers outside. I forgot to have Vee do it this morning" Your boss asks you politely with a smile.

"Of course! Let me just finish this arrangement and I'll get to watering. You can head home if you like Bella. I know your poor husband must be starving waiting for you" you giggle as Bella rolls her eyes.

"Let him die. No good worthless piece of crap. Couldn't even take the garbage out last night like I asked him too" Bella huffed as she walked over to your table.

"Stay single Y/N, trust me getting married is for the birds. Sure you meet some handsome young man and he charms his way into your life but the MINUTE he says 'I do' its all down hill from there" Bella says to you as she sternly shakes her finger.

You can't help but laugh. Bella is in her 70s and has been married to the same man for 50 years. He's really very kind and helpful in the shop when he comes and visits. Sometimes you think Bella expects too much from her husband but she's quick to shut you up.

"If you don't establish dominance Y/N, these men will walk all over you! You are young and beautiful. You don't want any man. And if you do, find one who will worship the ground you walk on. A man who will lay his coat over a pile of manure for you to walk. A man who will put your pleasure before his own" she says as she lectures you for the 10th time this week.

Bella loved you like her own daughter. Her son had moved away years ago and wasn't around much. She often invited you and Vee to have dinner with her and her husband. The dinners were entertaining to say the least. Usually ending with Bella ranting about how naive women now a days are or how shallow men are.

You enjoyed your time with Bella and her husband even if you didn't share the same sentiment as Bella did.

You hadn't been on a date in over a year. Every relationship seemed to go the same way. There was never a connection. You tried hard through college and after to find someone but always managed to come up empty.

After you graduated college, you took a high paying job in Tokyo. While you were more than qualified for the job, it provided you with little pleasure. It wasn't until you stumbled into Bella's flower shop that you found yourself truly happy.

Surrounded by beautiful flowers and arrangements. It was like heaven. You returned to Bellas weekly to get a bouquet. Soon you found yourself becoming friends with Vee and Bella. It wasn't until Bella mentioned needing help that you made the decision to quite your job and start anew. While the jobs pay was much less than you had become accustom too, your lifestyle really didn't change. You sold your suits in exchange for overhauls, shorts and t-shirts. You got accustomed to dirt below your fingers rather than finely manicure nails. Sure it was a big change but you were so much happier.

You're days were long and busy. Often starting early and closing late. You didn't have family close by, and no significant other so you often took extra shifts and offered to help so the other two ladies could enjoy their husband's.

Both ladies knew about your past dating relationships and the "one that got away" as they so ironically referred to it.

You couldn't lie to yourself. You often thought of Naoi Manabu.

What was he doing?

You were sure he had to be married by now. It had been 8 years since you had last seen him.

After you broke up, you avoided the man like the plague. It helped you only had a week before school ended and you graduated. It didn't seem like he was too worked up over your break up. You had spent far too many nights crying over him.

You felt like you had lost the love of your life.

You, in fact, had.

💐🏐💐🏐💐🏐💐🏐💐🏐💐🏐💐🏐💐🏐💐

"KENMAAAA" Coach Nekomata screams "stop running from the ball! We've been over this a million times!"

"I'd like to keep my limbs thanks" Kuzome Kenma whispers as he turns back to see Kuroo Tetsuro snickering.

"Kenma you act like you've never blocked a ball in your entire life" Kuroo teases the setter mercerously.

"Well I wouldn't have to if someone had read into the switch" Kenma glares at Kuroo who's smile drops.

"Alright that's enough" Naoi shouts as the boys return to their practice match.

He sits next to Coach Nekomata as he sighs "do you think they will be ready for nationals? We've only got a month before we leave. They've still got a long way to-"

"Naoi have faith. They will be ready. They are strong" Coach Nekomata smiles as he watches the boys continue to practice.

The game ends as the boys begin to pack up the gym.

Yaku Morisuke sighs as he finishes his stretches.

"Yaku what's got you bothered" Kuroo says as he kneels down to the team libero.

"I'm just thinking about Mai. I really like her but how do I even tell her. Confessing isn't really my strong suit" Yaku says as he rubs the back of his head.

"How about chocolates? Or maybe flowers?" Kuroo says with a smug grin "girls love flowers!"

"Tsk like you'd know Mr. Periodic Table" Kenma says non-chalantly as he walks by.

Yamamoto Taketora and Haiba Lev laugh at the rooster headed team captain as he glares at the 2nd year setter

"Are you even sure she likes short guys Yaku?" Lev laughs as the team shakes their head.

Yaku runs up to Lev kicking him straight in his back.

"Dumbass" Yamamoto shakes his head as he puts the remaining volleyballs away.

"Why don't we go check out that flower shop on the way home? What's it called like Bella's or something. It looks pretty nice" Kuroo says as he gestures to Yaku.

"Kai, you coming?" Kuroo says to his fellow third year and co-captain, Kai Nobuyuki.

"Sure I'll tag along" Kai speaks softly with a smile.

"Alright guys good practice! Remember we have practice this Saturday as well in preparation for nationals" Naoi shouts as the boys groan.

"And Kenma no skipping out. I'll have Kuroo drag you here if he has to" Naoi glares at Kenma who shakes rolls his eyes and huffs.

The boys showered and change, preparing to head to the flower shop as they wave their fellow teammates off.

Naoi boards the train heading home to his small apartment. To say things have gone to plan in his life would be an understatement. While he was doing what he loved, his love life was lacking to say the very least. He had tried numerous relationships, only to have them fail because he could never fully commit. He often found himself in a one-sided relationship where his partner would confess their love but he couldn't.

It became draining for the people he was with so he ultimately stayed single. He knew, in fact, what the problem was. The problem was that he had messed up the only relationship that mattered to him. He'd blown his chances with the only person whom he ever truly loved.

He had blown his chance with you.

When he decided to break up with you, he really thought it was for the best. He knew you had a bright future ahead of you and he couldn't help but feel like he was weighing you down. He thought it would be best to let go before it became impossible. Not that it wasn't hard to do. It broke him.

He found himself unable to date for years. You had been his first everything and you had been it. He eventually forced himself to move on. Having one night stands and short term relationships but never more. Commitment was hard when it wasn't you. He still kept the ring he had wanted to give you for your third anniversary.

Unfortunately he never got the chance to after he inevitably broke you heart. He often found himself staring at it, wondering how life would have been if he had in fact stayed with you.

By now you must be married with babies he thought to himself. It hurt to think about but he knew it would never be. You'd never be his. And he'd never be truly happy.

[twopoppies]

hi!! i looked in your fic rec MP and i didn't see it, so i thought I'd ask. i read In Vogue recently and LOVED it and then I've been binging project runway episodes (bc why not) and now I'm craving good fashion fics. maybe even a project runway one. have you read any good ones? and could you maybe rec some?

Hi sweetheart. Ohhh, I love that fic. And yes, I’ve got a few that have to do with fashion.

In Vogue by otpwhatever / @thecelineharry (M, 121K) This one is just….so much. The intensity of the characters, the crazy hot smut (oh god, the window scene), the FASHION, the angst (I had to take a walk around the block after reading it), the epic love story between two men who could rule the world if they could just figure their shit out. The fic has been deleted, but the link is to a download.

These Constant Stars by stylinsoncity (M, 31K) This author has written so many great fics and this one is really lovely. I also always like when one of the boys is not what he seems to be on first glance. There’s also a second part, told from Harry’s POV.

Three French Hems by 100percentsassy, gloria_andrews (M, 20K) the characterizations and set up for this fic are sharp and funny, making this a really fun read. Plus there’s a lot of talk of Louis worshipping Harry’s thighs. LOL!

Fading by tothemoonmydear (M, 202K) Let me start by asking you to please read the tags on this one. It’s a very well-written fic, but it deals very graphically with Louis’ character’s eating disorder. At the time it was written some people felt it did not portray ED recovery accurately, so if the subject is at all triggering for you, please don’t read this one. Of that’s not an issue for you, make sure you have tissues ready because I ugly cried through almost all of this. I read it years ago and loved it at the time, but it’s not one I could handle reading twice.

sweet, where you lay by @infinitelymint (E, 27K) I read this ages ago and my notes only say that it was “sweet and sexy”, which is not terribly helpful. But this author is a good one, in general, so I feel safe including it here.

The rest of these were suggested by @cuethetommo who generally likes the same sort of fics I do. I either haven’t read these, or don’t remember enough about them to have an opinion! 😆 But I trust her.

Put It All On Me by LoadedGunn (M, 15K)

"Yeah, yeah, give it to me, that's it, spread your legs a bit, there you go."

The camera follows Louis as he does. Maybe if the modelling thing doesn't work out, he could try the porn industry. Then again, he's a bit too stocky to be twinky and a bit too twinky to be anything else. He likes that about himself, though. Well, directors and photographers like that about him. He could pull off pretty and edgy, could do GQ in the morning and a perfume commercial in the afternoon. Right now he thinks he could pull off anything, because it's Harry fucking Styles directing him.

Or, a Top Model AU where Louis is accidentally there to make friends, not become Britain's Next Top Model. (Also Zayn is the supermodel host.)

you pull me in by yoursongonmyheart (NR, 7K)

“Did you really wear silk jammies to meet him?” Fizzy is almost in tears.

He’s going to kill them.

He’s really going to kill them.

Ernie throws his backpack on the floor before telling Fizzy, quite loudly, “Mr. Styles looked at Achoo like this” and making an exaggerated jaw dropped face.

“That is not what happened!” Louis protests.

“And Achoo looked at Mr. Styles like that, too!” Doris pulls the same face before laughing.

------

//or the one where Louis is a model, Harry teaches Doris and Ernie at primary and now might be a good time to fall in love.

This Road Leads Where Your Heart Is by LittleLostPieces (E, 15K)

Alright, so Louis has a bit of a type is the thing. And as fit as his supermodel flatmate (Harry) may be, he isn't what Louis is looking for in a potential partner. That’s all. He’s not Louis’ type, with his miles of lanky limbs and his bright, boyish eyes. His impossibly tight, little body and infectious laughter are not what Louis wants. They're not. Really.

swimming in a champagne sea by delsicle (E, 17K)

Louis is a supermodel. Harry is a celebrity photographer known for capturing the brightest up and comers in their most candid moments. They meet at London’s most exclusive New Year’s Eve party.

An alpha/alpha fic filled with confusion, banter, Ubers, and glitter

Life at Shutter Speed by zarah5 (E, 20K)

AU. Having landed a job modelling for an outdoor clothing catalogue, Harry certainly wouldn’t mind doing some extracurricular work for photographer Louis Tomlinson. Say, a private photo session? Yes, please? Good thing that Harry has ten days and three beautiful locations -- Morocco, Indonesia and the Swiss Alps -- to make Louis see just how good they could be.

Special Topping by LoadedGunn (E, 20K)

'Who would even want so many pizzas so late at night?' Harry wonders before the door opens.

Oh. Apparently short guys with shaggy brown hair and a scruff and bright blue eyes and heart-stopping smiles. That's who.

Harry's not even ashamed of how he nearly drops all the pizzas. This guy is gorgeous and Harry hasn't noticed anyone like that in ages, let alone provided services to them. If he opened his mouth right now the only thing that would come out is, "By special topping did you mean my dick?"

Or, the AU where Harry delivers pizza and Louis really just wants Tim Gunn to spank him.

everywhere (i want to be with you) by itiswhatisbutterfly (E, 42K)

Harry and Louis meet because they have terrible friends, they fall in love because something feels right in a world of uncertainty and shifting grounds. Louis is an actor and Harry is a model at the top of his game, the best things in life are the most unexpected ones and the things that hit you when you are least expecting it.

Featuring winter in London, nights in Paris, early mornings in New York, burning heat in Monte Carlo and an enduring love spent transcending four corners of the globe.

Young Gods by sincewewereeighteen (E, 77K)

“Why don’t you stay?” Harry looked down at him and snorted. “What?”

“You’re not my type, Louis”, the boy rolled his eyes sitting on the edge of the bed to put on his boots.

“Says the man you just had sex with”, Louis pointed feeling smart, but Harry was one step ahead of him, with the answer on the tip of his tongue.

“You see, if you were my type, I wouldn’t have”, Harry winked, cheeky as hell. “I would’ve gotten to know you first.”

“Bullshit”, he accused the boy not letting it show how intrigued he was. “How can you know I’m not your type if you don’t know me?”

“How about I list five things about you to prove I’m right and if any of them are false I’ll lie down again.”

“Ok. Go.”

[Or: the one in which Louis is a model and Harry's supposed to be a normal guy... Until he isn't.]

[kaiparker-avengerssmut]

Their Doll 4

Y/n Stark

B.Barnes x Reader, S.Rogers x Stark!Reader

series synopsis:  y/n Stark, all records of her non existent, and yet Hydra still find her. When she is kidnapped by a certain super-soldier and no one believes her, she finds herself searching for unexpected familiarity in her not-so-distant past.

Series Warnings: smut, violence, torture, swearing

Chapter Summary: the avengers find some stuff out about y/n

Warnings: swearing

A/n: The timeline in this has been altered, as there I things I wanted to include but I also wanted this fic to follow the storyline/timeline of Winter Soldier and Civil war.So for purposes of this fanfic, Peter Parker was discovered by Tony at a much younger age - when he was bitten - and has been an intern with him since, almost like a protégée.(For the purposes of this story Peter was bitten much younger too - more like when he was 9 or ten rather than 14/15)

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

"SO there's some weird HYDRA girl locked and sedated in my basement? Cool, don't want to know." Tony dismissed, not looking up from his white mug as he tipped a generous amping of sugar into his black coffee. He swirled the liquid in the mug and turned around, leaning against the counter as he raised the drink to lips lips and took a sip before sighing intently. Bruce frowned, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Tony, I don't think you get it, I ran a DNA test and-"

"And she's probably some innocent girl that went missing years ago and was never found? I get it, I feel bad for her but at the end of the day she has nothing to do with me." Tony dismissed, pushing away from the counted to deposit his now-empty mug in the sink. He turned the tap on, rinsing out the cup before carelessly placing it on the drying rack.

"Just, please, come and see her. You won't regret it, and if you do - dinner's on me?" Bruce suggest, arms outstretched in welcome. Tony rolled his eyes, before scoffing.

"Yeah, no. I'm good. Catch you in the lab later though?" Tony was quick to deflect, exiting the room with so much as another glance. Bruce's hands feel to his side with a slap as his shoulders sagged in defeat.

...

Bruce nervously paced the lab, desperate to tell someone his horrifying discovery. The click of the door made his head snap up, a smile of relief spreading his on lips at the sight of Nat.

"Nat, finally." He sighed, walking towards the scowling girl.

"What did you need to tell me Bruce? You sounded pretty urgent when you called." She pressed, crossing her arms over her chest and raising a brow. His smile faulted, his gaze dropping to his hands where he fondled with a biro pen.

"I- uh. I made a... discovery about y/n." Bruce confessed, finally meeting Nat's eyes.

"Go on.." Nat prompted. Bruce took a deep breath, chewing on his bottom lip nervously. "Bruce-" she started.

"Y/n isn't entirely human-"

"Well we knew that much."

"It's what she is, that's shocking. Looking threw all her blood tests and whatnot - it's showing she has an ability to manipulate minds when she s-sings. It's like a certain note her voice forms that can control the minds of people around her."

"So what is she?"

"I don't know, there's not really a name-"

"A siren. She's a siren." A third voice joined the room, and both the avengers' heads snapped round to the direction it came from. In the door stood Steve, shoulder leant against the frame and ankles crossed.

"Who's watching y/n?" Nat asked.

"Clint. Anyway, my father - he used to read me a story when I was a kid. The Odyssey, I believe it was called. It was a Greek myth about a bewitching girl who lured saloons in with her voice so she could feed off them." Steve continued, pushing himself off the door frame and walking further into the room.

"There's no way that's real, though." Nat dismissed, frowning heavily at his words.

"No, no. He has a point - I mean, look at Steve. Look at me." Bruce said, gesturing to himself and Steve. "We shouldn't be possible, but science does some crazy things. Y/n was with HYDRA, right?"

"Yes, but-"

"Well, what if they did this to her. We know she was taken when she was young, so what if they did so to experiment on her?"

"I should go talk to her, you know - girl on girl. She seems to like me, maybe she knows what she is and she might open up to me, if I ask nicely." Nat suggests, walking out the room when she was met with no protests from the two men.

"There's something else I should mention." Bruce started fidgeting again, which man Steve's brown knit together.

"What is it, Bruce?" The super-soldier prompted. Bruce continued to fidget, not looking up from him hands as he spoke.

"Are you aware Tony used to have daughter?" Bruce asked sheepishly.

"Tony had a daughter?" Steve said, brows now raised with genuine shock. He knew of Tony's...escapades from before he was with Pepper, but he couldn't see Tony as the type to actually keep a child from just a one-night stand.

"She was adopted, some kid he found on the streets with no parents. So he took her in, raised her and then she just disappeared. Many people have forgotten she existed, and those that remember her are all under the impression that she is dead. I thought so too, until..." Bruce paused, flipping through some papers on his clipboard until he found what he was looking for. "Until this." He finished, handing the board over to Steve.

In Steve's hands was proof that matched y/n's DNA to that of Tony's adopted daughter.

"Well that explains the name, and her hesitation to tell us who she really is." Steve frowned, eyes scanning over the paper repeatedly. Bruce hummed in agreement, taking the clipboard back from Steve when he held it out for Bruce to take. "Do we tell Tony?" Steve asked after a moment.

"He doesn't want to know, I've tried telling him but he doesn't care." Bruce told Steve and Steve pressed his lips together as he thought. "I do think we should wake her up though. If she's Tony's daughter there can't be anything that's more dangerous about her than you expect her attitude." Bruce said and Steve nodded, suppressing a laugh.

"I'll tell Nat to wake her up." Steve said as he exited the lab.

...

The steam from the shower engulfed me, my hands running through my hair and brushing out the tangles lightly. As I scrubbed the shampoo from my scalp, I hummed a small tune - thankful to be somewhere noisy enough that I wouldn't risk affecting anyone with my powers. After waking me up Nat told me to clean up and get changed before handing me a pile of clothes and telling me that she would meet me at my room in half an hour to take me to meet the rest of the team.

Shutting the water off, I slid the glass door open and my feet padded onto the thin bath-mat. The towel wrapped around me as I patted my hair dry with another one, looking over my scarred figure in the large mirror opposite me.

A large scar spanned the width of my stomach, smaller remnants of cuts littering my thighs that were joined by one larger one from where I was once stabbed. Looking at myself over my shoulder, I observed the large scars that spanned over my back, the layers fading at different degrees from their varying ages. The memory of how I got them brought tears to my eyes, which I was quick to blink away and focus back onto what I was doing.

Pulling the large sweatshirt Steve had lent me over my head, I left the large bathroom clad in a pair of leggings and some socks I borrowed from Nat. I brushed my fingers through my wet locks, detangling them. I threw the towel onto the bed in the room I had been assigned and plopped down next to it, taking my time to survey the room I barely got a look of earlier.

The door to the en-suite bathroom I just exited sat on one side of the room, accompanied by a big closet and a dressing table. A chest of draws was propped next to the king sized bed the sat in and the free corner housed a small kitchen. It had a stove, fridge-freezer, sink and a few cabinets. On the side sat a kettle, toaster, blender and some chopping boards.

A sharp knock on the door bought me back to my senses, making me perk up a little at the sound of Nat's voice.

"You feeling okay?" I nodded. "Good, well Steve and Bruce want you to meet them in conference room 4. I'll take you." She quickly added the last part in seeing my scared face.

As we walked down the halls we chatted, talking about our pasts and finding out that we were fairly similar - we were both forced into the bad things we did, we both found a way to redeem ourselves, neither of us have ever had a boyfriend and we both love chicken noodle soup.

"Well, this is it." She announced, pointing at a door to our left. I nodded, going to open the door before pausing and turning around.

"Thank you. For taking me with you, for giving me this chance, for hiding me from HYDRA - thank you, really." I spoke softly, giving her the friendliest smile I could muster.

"No problem. I couldn't live with myself if I knew we could've helped you. Everyone deserves a second chance."

"I genuinely can't thank you enough - you saved me." I said, quickly swiping away the threatening tears with the heels of my hands.

"I was nice meeting you, y/n."

"You too." And with the last words said, I pushed the door open, walking into the room and being instantly greeted by Bruce and Steve.

"Hey, y/n, why don't you take a seat and we'll get the introductions out the way?" Bruce suggested and I nodded shyly. I took a seat next to Steve, who appeared to shuffle slightly away from me but I couldn't be sure.

"So, another midgardian?" a bulky man with shoulder length blonde hair and a red cape clipped to his shoulders broke the silence. He was clearly the God I'd been hearing about - I mean how much more of a costume does he need to look like Thor?

"Yes, we think so." Bruce confirmed. I frowned at this. Midgardian? What the hell was a midgardian?

"We think she's been tampered with, like me," Steve elaborated, "but as far as we know, she is of this earth." Steve spoke and Thor nodded. "We are keeping her safe from HYDRA." Steve said to break the silence as they all stared at me with funny looks. I kept my eyes cast down now, cheeks hot with embarrassment after feeling so many eyes on me at once.

"Does she-" I interjected the second I heard another voice. I stood abruptly, pushing me seat back and wincing at the screeching noise it made before resuming my angry face. I slammed my hand down the table as I stood, catching the attention of everyone sat at the table.

"If even one more of you refers to me as 'she' rather than just fucking talking directly to me I am going to end up sirening one of your asses!" I demanded, seething with anger. A grin broke out on Thor's face.

"Atta girl, I like this one already!" He laughed and I sat down again, smiling contented ay his compliment.

"She's got Tony's patience, all right." Another man remarked with a smirk. Steve simply rolled his eyes as common menus about my attitude were thrown around the room. Finally, someone addressed me. It was a woman with Blonde hair and kind eyes. She looked motherly.

"Hey, I'm pepper." She smiled kindly and I quickly reciprocated it. They went around the table - the man who had commented about my patience was called Clint, the blonde man was was indeed called Thor and obviously I'd already met Bruce and Steve.

"I'm y/n." I returned and she repeated my name in her beautiful voice, almost as if she was testing how I'd felt in her mouth.

"Y/n. A stunning name for a stunning lady." Thor commented, boyish grin still in place and I gave him a sheepish smile.

"Oh, cut it out big guy - you're like, a billion times her age." A voice came from the door and we all turned to find out who it was.

"Tony. I wasn't aware you'd be joining us." Steve said in a monotone voice and Tony gave him a tight smile.

"You don't get everything your way, Capsicle. Now, who's this?" Tony said, stuffing a mouthful of blueberries in his mouth before stuffing the bag of food in his back pocket and motioning to me with a nod.

"Tony, this is y/n," Bruce said moving out the way from where he was standing so Tony could see my face. The man's eyes widened instantly as the recognition sank in. "Y/n Stark."

[mothandpidgeon]

THE SINS OF THE FATHER - a Molly York story PART 2

(gif by @pajamasecrets)

PROLOGUE - PART 1

MASTERLIST

Characters: Dave York, Molly York (Carol and Alice, too)

Words: 3500

Rating: T

Warnings: character death (canon), loss of a parent, angst, training your daughter to be an assassin?

Summary: After contacting a mysterious acquaintance of her later father's, Molly York learns more about the man. And about his death.

a/n: I'm a little obsessed with this fic right now. I love writing soft!Dave and his daughter. I know this isn't the mean daddy Dave smut we usually love, but I'd love to hear from you if you're enjoying this!

Thanks @purplepascal042 for helping me with this part! Love you, B!

/ / / / /

Dave is exhausted from jet lag, sprawled on the bed, still in his shirt and slacks. The last job took a lot out of him. He needs a shower but his body won’t budge.

“Daddy are you sleeping?” Molly asks from the doorway in a stage whisper.

“What’s going on?”

“Will you help me with my homework?” she asks. She’s clutching a worksheet and a pencil.

“Sure. Come here,” he says and she climbs onto the bed beside him. “What’ve we got?”

“I have to interview a grown up about their job. For Career Day,” she explains.

Dave looks over the page, his tired eyes barely focusing. “Did you ask Mommy to do this?”

“I want you to do it,” Molly insists.

He lets Molly read him each prompt and he answers as simply as possible. She dutifully writes down each answer in scrawling pencil.

“How do you spell ‘investigation?’” she asks.

“Sound it out,” he encourages. He’s so burnt, he’s not sure he can manage to spell it either.

“‘What is your favorite part about your job?’” she reads.

Dave sighs longer than he means to. “Coming home to my family.”

“No, Daddy! It has to be about work!”

The address Capra had given Molly was a boarded up movie theater off the highway about 30 miles outside of DC. Molly told Carol that she was shopping for dorm decor when she’d left the house full of nerves. She’d gotten so good at lying, sometimes she believed her own.

The parking lot was empty, the cracks in its pavement filled in with grass, punctuated by street lights every few yards. Molly had expected to meet at a coffee shop or a restaurant, not some out of the way place. She was sitting on the trunk of her car, her leg bouncing, when a black BMW pulled up. The woman driving it looked to be in her late 40s, her hair pulled back neatly. When she stepped out of her car, she pulled her sunglasses down her nose and eyed Molly up and down.

“How old are you now? 20?”

“18,” Molly told her.

“You’re the older one?”

“Yeah,” Molly said.

Capra approached her and she hopped down from the bumper.

“Didn’t your dad ever teach you not to talk to strangers?” she asked.

Molly hesitated. She had her pepper spray in her back pocket and she was much younger, probably quicker than this woman. But Dad wouldn’t give her Capra’s number if he didn’t trust her. Still, Molly decided to lean against her car and keep her distance.

“You know a lot about me for a stranger,” Molly replied.

Capra grinned. She nodded her head back and said, “Walk with me.”

Molly paced the pavement with her, glancing at the woman beside her. She was slim with sharp features, whispers of frown lines in her face. Capra offered Molly a cigarette which she declined.

“Is Capra your first name?”

“It’s what my friends call me,” she replied.

There was a darkness in her tone that made Molly edgy.

“Did you work with my dad at the agency?” Molly asked.

That would explain some things. But Capra laughed.

“No.” Capra observed Molly and then her lip twitched up into a wistful smile. “Jeez I bet everybody tells you you look just like him.”

Molly’s stomach churned.

“Were you and my dad-”

“No,” Capra said. “God no. Your dad was...a complicated guy but not when it came to his family.”

Molly nodded, not sure if she felt relieved or if that just gave her more questions.

“So how did you know each other?” She asked.

“It’s a long story,” Capra said, scratching her forehead. “We did some freelance work together.”

Capra made some small talk, asking Molly where she was headed for college, what she’d be studying. Molly had so many questions of her own she could only manage short answers. Finally, she had to ask the question that had been nagging at her the loudest.

“Do you know what happened to my dad? How he died?” She’d stopped walking.

“I know the same as you,” Capra said.

“Which is?” Molly asked. She wasn’t going to accept such a vague answer.

Capra gave a wry smile. She flicked her cigarette butt to the ground and twisted it into the pavement under her shoe. Molly’s heart sped up. She’d caught Capra in a lie.

“You’re a clever one,” she said.

“It wasn’t an accident, was it?” Molly asked. She searched Capra’s face for an answer. “Please.”

“I wasn’t there,” she replied.

“But you know. Please. I need to know.”

Molly felt like she was holding her breath. Capra looked away, then back at Molly.

“You don’t want to know,” Capra said.

“I do,” Molly said. She balled her hands into fists so she didn’t shake Capra by her shoulders.

“He wouldn’t want you to know.”

“How do you know that?” Molly spat. “What the hell do you know about him? I’ve never even heard of you. You don’t know.”

“Trust me, there’s plenty about your father you didn’t know,” Capra snapped back.

Molly was so frustrated she wanted to cry. Instead she let out a growl and turned back towards her car.

“Fuck this!” She stomped away.

She’d crossed half of the parking lot when she heard Capra call after her. Molly squared her shoulders, tried to compose herself, and turned around to glare at the woman. Capra was clutching the bridge of her nose, her eyes shut. Finally she dropped her hand with an exasperated sigh and pulled out another cigarette. Capra lit it as she closed the distance between them, blowing smoke out of her mouth and shaking her head. She held the cigarette out to Molly.

“You’re going to want one of these. And you’re going to need to sit down for this.”

Dave parks the car in the driveway. Molly is sitting in the passenger seat, still grinning from her first experience at the shooting range.

“Now remember,” Dave says before he opens the door, “this is our secret. So if Mom asks where we were, just tell her our cover story.”

She nods eagerly but then her lips twist into a thoughtful frown.

“It’s lying,” she says.

Dave feels guilty for a moment. Deceit is practically second nature for him but what kind of father teaches his daughter to be dishonest?

“But it’s a white lie,” she justifies to herself. “Right?”

Dave kisses the crown of her head.

“It’s alright, baby. Everybody has secrets.”

Molly felt dizzy. The story Capra told her made her feel like she’d gone from a tilt-a-whirl into a funhouse. Everything was distorted and she was upside down. Already, she was replaying her memories of Dad with this new context tinging them like a dark filter.

Dad kissing her on the forehead before bed. Hoisting her onto his shoulders on the 4th of July. Singing along to “Baba O’Riley” and drumming on the steering wheel. Dad killing people. Earning blood money. Dying by someone else’s hand.

“It’s a lot,” Capra said. They were sitting in Molly’s parked car, the windows rolled down, the sound of the highway traffic washing through like white noise. “But he did it for you.”

Molly’s eyes flicked to her. She hadn't asked for anybody to die.

“He was trying to take care of his family,” Capra clarified.

She let Molly sit in silence for a while as she sorted out what she’d just heard. Molly felt like she was grieving him all over again. Except this time she mourned the father she knew.

“My mom-"

“She never knew,” Capra said.

Molly nodded weakly.

“It was a secret because he loved you.”

Molly felt a tear slip from her eye. She didn’t want to feel hurt. She didn’t like feeling deceived. She wiped her face and set her jaw.

“What happened to Mac?” she asked.

She remembered meeting the man who had killed her father. Everything that had happened just before he died was so clear in her memory. She could still see Mac’s face, his friendly smile.

He’d seemed like such a nice guy. She remembered asking him a load of questions as he rode with them to school and he’d laughed and told Carol what a bright girl she was.

It sickened her to know he’d been right there. So close. And she was so small and clueless. Had Dad known what was coming?

“He lives up in New England,” Capra said. “Retired.”

Molly turned to Capra, anger burning in her chest.

“He’s still alive?” she asked.

“Afraid so,” Capra said.

Molly looked back out the windshield, took a deep breath. Retired. Dad would never get to retire. Go golfing or build model cars or whatever old men did.

“And you do...what my dad did?” she asked.

Capra didn’t confirm or deny it.

“You can’t discuss this. With anyone,” she informed her.

Molly nodded again. She wouldn’t dream of telling Carol this. She would protect her from the truth just like dad had.

“I’m sorry about this,” Capra said before they parted ways. “You’ve got my number. Give me a call if you ever need anything.”

As Molly drove home, thoughts solidified in her mind.

Dad was a killer. But he’d been a killer before, in the Marines. He’d still loved her. He went to her karate matches and read her bedtime stories. She might have lived her whole life without ever finding out what Dave York really was.

If he hadn’t died.

He could have taught her how to drive. Taken photos before senior prom. Visited colleges with her.

He would have danced with her at her wedding. Helped her fix up her first home. Held her future children in his arms.

If he hadn’t been murdered.

And what about mom? She wouldn’t have worried about calling plumbers and taking her car to the mechanic. Run herself ragged getting Alice to dance class and Molly to archery competitions. She wouldn't have had to sleep alone every night.

If it hadn’t been for Robert McCall.

Molly could absolve her father’s sins. But Mac she would never forgive.

“Young lady, open this door right now,” Dave barks.

“You told me to go to my room! I’m in my room!” Molly snaps through her bedroom door.

She’s given Carol lip all morning and he’s had enough of the attitude. Every day, his sweet little girl is fading more and more into a stubborn teenager.

“You do not slam doors in this house.”

“Leave me alone!” Molly yells. “I hate you!”

Dave knows that she’s angry and she’s got a bad temper. That these outbursts are the first signs of puberty rearing its ugly head. But, still, her words punch him right in the gut.

“If that’s how you’re going to speak to your father, then you’re grounded,” he manages.

“Good!”

Molly had been reserved ever since Dave’s death but, after meeting Capra, she felt her melancholy harden into bitterness. She went through college. She didn’t make a lot of friends or date many people. She studied, she practiced her marksmanship, she trained.

As soon as Molly turned 18, she was back at the gun range. It had been a long time since Dad had taken her for target practice but she was pleasantly surprised by her grouping. She’d had a good teacher.

She liked everything about shooting. Not just because it had been a secret she shared with her father. She liked the ritual– loading the magazine, carefully picking up the gun. She liked the focus– taking a deep breath and looking down the barrel. She liked the power.

Mac’s grin stayed fixed in her mind. She thought about it when she pulled herself from bed at five in the morning to do push ups. She pictured it when she worked herself into a sweat at the gym’s punching bag. She imagined it when she put holes through the head of the target at the shooting range.

She didn’t think she’d have the chance to do that in real life. But she dreamed about it almost every night.

Molly had always stayed close to home but she visited less and less. Alice started college in New York so Carol had an empty nest. Molly could hardly bring herself to visit her mother anymore.

Molly had always been good at keeping secrets but this one was the most difficult. Every time she saw Carol, Molly imagined how devastated she would be if she knew the truth. It had become too painful pretending and so Molly simply avoided most situations where she would have to.

Capra stayed in touch, calling every so often to check in. It was clear to Molly that she felt responsible for this angst but there was no one else to talk to about it.

Some people were driven by ambition or lust or creativity. During college, it felt like Molly ran on anger. It helped her concentrate, to work hard. She graduated at the top of her class and had no trouble landing a job that paid well.

Adulthood was different.

Dave had been wise enough to set up trusts for the girls so Molly hadn’t racked up student debt. But now she had rent and bills and car insurance. She couldn’t stuff herself with fries from the dining hall and call that a meal. She had to work long hours for a demanding boss. She had to take care of herself. She had to go through the monotony of life.

When it came down to it, she just didn’t have the energy to be mad anymore.

Molly still held a flame inside. Mainly, she kicked herself for not getting to the gym more often. She hated that she was moving on. She had dulled as she got older, as she followed the news every day and saw that the world was a shitty place where justice was scarce.

Molly was in her childhood bedroom, going through layers of old school papers, polaroids from her friends’ bat mitzvahs, and certificates from karate tournaments like an archeological dig.

Carol was finally selling the family home. Downsizing. The girls were there to help clean things out, decide what should go to the Salvation Army and what would be going home with them.

It pained Molly to think about the house with another family living inside it. Even now in her late twenties, she still walked in the door and expected Dad to come around the corner from the kitchen, to say, “Hey, kiddo!” the way he used to. Once the house was sold, she would never experience that sensation again.

It was strange, Molly thought, how you could live somewhere for all of your life and then, one day, you’re locked out forever.

Carol was moving to a two bedroom condo closer to the city so she couldn’t take all of this junk with her. Molly packed a bankers box with some trophies and a few of her favorite books and brought it down to the kitchen.

Alice was leaned against the island, lazily sorting through cookbooks. Although the day called for packing boxes and hauling trash bags, she was dressed to the nines. Molly wondered if her sister owned casual clothes anymore. Alice had gotten a job at a fashion magazine and, although it seemed like she was low in the pecking order, she acted as though she was Anna Wintour herself.

“That’s all you’re taking?” Carol asked, eyeing the box.

Molly shrugged. She already had already taken the things that were most precious to her long ago.

“You know, Mom, if you don’t want to move, I can help you with the mortgage,” Molly said.

Molly had been saving up to buy a place of her own but she would happily give that up for her mother. Nowhere would ever feel like home the way this house did.

“It’s time,” Carol said. “I don’t need this much house to myself.”

Mom didn’t look her age but the bags under her eyes had grown more defined. She’d stopped coloring the streak of grey hair that had come in at her temple.

“It’s a good idea,” Alice jumped in. “Mom needs to get out there again. She hasn’t met any guys in the suburbs.”

The idea of Mom dating always made Molly bristle. She didn’t want Carol to be lonely but couldn’t picture her with a man who wasn’t Dad. The same way she couldn’t see her living in a different house.

“I’m going to work on the study,” Molly said and retreated to the home office.

This had been Dad’s room and, even though it had accumulated a mess of things over the years— old workout tapes, discarded hobbies, books about tidying— it still felt like his sanctuary. Molly picked through a shelf and found Dad’s high school yearbook. She hoped Mom wouldn’t mind if she took that home with her. She liked pictures of her father in his youth, skinny and bright eyed with scruffy hair.

Molly sat on the floor in front of the built-ins and fished out a few baskets and shoe boxes from the cabinets. The first one contained family photos. Vacation in the Bahamas, Alice’s 4th birthday party, Molly dressed as a ninja for Halloween. She went through each one with great ceremony. Molly already had a bunch of photos of her and Dad so she tucked these back in their box and put them in the ‘keep’ pile.

The next box was filled with cards. Sympathy cards. Molly sighed as she went into them. One from Carol’s coworkers with a rose on the front. Sending you comfort. A small card that looked like it had come with a floral arrangement from cousin John. He’ll be missed.

There was a card with a painting of a serene beach scene. With deepest sympathy. Molly opened it and read the short message.

So sorry for your loss. It feels like we’ve lost one of the family. Send my love to the girls. - Mac

The cold rage that had burnt out reignited in Molly’s stomach, her entire body so tight she almost shook. She could feel tears sting in her eyes.

That motherfucker. That fucking asshole had the audacity to send a sympathy card. To send his love. That piece of fucking shit. Molly almost crumpled the card in her hands, as if she could wring his neck through it, but just then Alice wandered in. Molly dropped the card into her lap.

“What are these?” her sister asked, crouching down and grabbing a photo. “Aw! You looked so cute!”

Molly swallowed hard and tried to slow her heart rate as Alice sifted through the pictures.

“Christ, why does Mom still have these?” Alice complained, picking up one of the sympathy cards.

“They’re for Dad,” Molly said.

“It’s not like he got to read them,” Alice replied.

She tossed it back onto the floor.

“Why are you always such a bitch about Dad?” Molly asked, the animosity she’d discovered in Mac’s card spilling out of her.

“Sorry I don’t worship him.” Alice rolled her eyes. “It’s not like he was ever around. And when he was, he spent all of his time with you.”

Alice crossed her arms and looked away self-consciously. Molly felt a jab in her heart. She knew Dad loved Alice. He’d done awful things so that she could take dance lessons and go off to a good school where she could study whatever she liked. Things that eventually got him killed. But Molly couldn’t tell her sister any of that so she just stared at Alice with her mouth half open.

“Girls, when you’re finished up there, lunch is ready!” Mom called from the kitchen.

“Call me a bitch…” Alice grumbled as she left the room.

Molly pushed the cards into the ‘Trash’ pile.

“Ow! Daddy! Molly hit me!” Alice whines.

“You hit me first!” Molly growls.

Dave glances at them in the rear view mirror.

“Is that true?” he asks.

“No!” Alice says.

He knows she’s lying. Molly’s sitting there with her arms crossed as Alice clutches her elbow dramatically, lips set in a pout.

He knows what he’s supposed to say. Some bullshit about being the bigger person, two wrongs don’t make a right. And if Carol was in the car maybe he would. But the world doesn’t work like that.

“If you hit somebody,” he warns, “don’t be surprised if they hit you back.”

Molly took Mac’s card with her. It was sitting on her passenger seat when she pulled away, Carol standing on the lawn, waving. Send my love to the girls. Every time she thought about it, she got so pissed off she wanted to puke.

She couldn’t even wait to get home before she was dialing Capra, one hand gripping the steering wheel so hard her knuckles ached.

“What’s up, kid?” Capra asked.

“I need to find Mac.”

/ / / / / part three soon!

@pascalslittlebrat @purplepascal042 @starlightmornings @mouthymandalorian @danniburgh @originallaura @tuskens-mando @221bshrlocked @wyn-dixie @goddessinwolfskin @cheekygeek05 @fangirl-316 @fairytale07 @rosiefridayrogersunday @a-skov @skulliebythesea @oceanablue @rebel-soldat @stevie75 @evyiione @buckwildbarnes @likes-good-reblogs-even-better @silverwolf319 @killermonkeys45 @velia27 @anxiousandboujee @amneris21 @green-socks @pedro4ever @pedrocentric @kesskirata

[willymywonkers]

Pure Imagination

Summary: We get introduced into the world of Maude Figgle, and how one of her students, Charlie Bucket, reunites her with an old friend.

A/N: This too longer than I'd like to admit lmaoooo. This is my first time writing a willy wonka fic, so constructive criticism is greatly appreciated!!

The chocolate factory at the edge of town was always a mystery to people. Its large tunnels stood tall casing a shadow over people. All of Willy Wonka's delectable goods were protected behind hundreds of walls of steel and black bricks that were absolutely impenetrable.

Maude had seen the factory about a dozen times, and each time, she wondered what would it be like to go inside. She had always admired the elusive chocolatier from a far, but she was so nervous to actually talk with him.

Maude had remembered a time when Willy Wonka wasn't famous, and was just a boy that lived two blocks down from her. Of all people, Will was the nicest boy she'd ever met. When they were younger, Maude would enjoy spending her time with Will, encouraging him to take risks, and be a little impulsive. Will knew she was a bit wild, but that's what he liked about her. Someone who wasn't afraid of any consequences and just went with the heart told them.

However, things began to get rough for Maude. She wasn't the little girl that pushed the boundaries anymore. She was Will's partner, and she was the main It happened when Maude met her ex husband, Ronald. Ron was extremely jealous of Will. It was apparent that Will liked Maude more than anyone else. Will didn't like touching other workers. That was the main reason he wore gloves.

However, he acted differently around Maude. He seemed to be more comfortable with touching her, and letting her touch him. Ron caught sight of this. He deemed that Maude belonged to him.

Eventually, Ron made Maude cut all contact from Will. This happened when Willy was going through a sharp decrease in candy sales. With people all over the world after his secrets, Will didn't really have anybody he could trust. Other than Maude.

Maude didn't want to quit working with Will, but Ron didn't give her much of a choice. Ron had gotten more and more controlling towards her, thus affecting her mental health greatly.

Then, she snapped at Ron, telling him that this was wrong. Ron slapped her across the face. The next day, Maude resigned.

The news crushed Willy, causing him to close the factory for good.

Years later, Maude divorced Ron, taking her own independence back. Maude often would walk by the factory, but it was a painful reminder to her, and how she treated her best friend.

Maude became a chemistry teacher, so that she could be close with children, and help their young minds grow. Of course, there were students that would barely pay attention, and would ignore what she said altogether. However, there was one student in her class that she was very fond of. A young boy named Charlie Bucket.

He was quite clever for his age, and he would always be interested whatever experiments she was conducting.

"Good morning, Ms. Figgle," Charlie said, walking into the classroom.

Maude smiled at the boy. Her glasses hung from the bridge of her nose. "Good morning, Charlie. Did you enjoy winter break?"

He nodded. "But, I didn't get anything this year."

"Oh, I'm sorry, dear." Maude knew about Charlie's financial situation. She always tried to make things a little more lenient on him, unlike his other teachers.

"It's alright. Christmas is about spending time with your family, anyways."

Maude nodded. "Well, I've got a present for you, Charlie."

She got out a medium sized box wrapped in newspaper, and handed it to him.

"What is it?" He asked.

"You're just gonna have to open it to find out."

It was a brown sweater with a black stripe in the front.

Charlie smiled at the present, though he seemed taken aback by the gesture.

"I can't accept this." Charlie said, putting the sweater back in the box.

"But, it's frigid out there. You'll need it." Maude handed Charlie back the sweater.

He smiled up at Maude. "You're right. I really appreciate it, Ms. Figgle."

The kids all plied into the class at once. Excitement from being back from break made all the kids rambley and quite loud.

"Have you heard about the golden tickets?"

"I'm gonna get the first one."

All the kids seemed to be chattering all about these golden tickets. Maude hadn't a clue about what they were.

"Golden tickets?" Maude asked, looking slightly confused.

"There was an announcement about it last night. Mr. Wonka is going to be opening up his factory for 5 children all over the world." Charlie said, clearing up her confusion.

Maude's eyes lit up. "Really? That's incredible!"

Charlie agreed.

This fact made Maude's heart jump. She really wanted to see Will again, but she knew she barely had a chance. 5 golden tickets in the whole world, and there was only one of her. She tossed her excitement aside in hopes that a kid truly worthy of the ticket takes it.

A few weeks go by and the first ticket is found. Maude was sitting in front of her television when it was announced. She wasn't surprised that the first ticket was found by some kid who ate chocolate all the time, but it was how quickly he found it.

After that, each kid was worst than the last. It really pained her to see such rotten kids get all the spotlight, when kids like, Charlie, were barely making ends meet.

Maude found herself back at the factory, wondering what was going on inside.

"Hello, Ms. Figgle!" Charlie called from behind.

Maude turned around, snapping out of her thoughts. "Oh, hello, Charlie. What are you doing here?"

"Why are you always staring at the factory?" Charlie countered.

Maude gulped. "Well, you see, a long time ago, I actually knew Mr. Wonka."

"You did? I think my grandpa told me about it."

"Right, but I didn't just work for him. I was his partner in it all. I did all the experiments. I created new kinds of candy every day."

Maude and Charlie began walking down the snowy street, as Maude told Charlie the many adventures her and Mr. Wonka shared.

"Were you ever in love with Mr. Wonka?" Charlie asked, jokingly.

Maude chuckled. "Of course not."

Of course, she was lying to herself. She couldn't see herself standing beside him. Maude felt that Willy deserved someone better, especially when all she did was burn him.

Maude's smile faltered. She felt an ache in her heart.

"Ms. Figgle, are you alright?"

Maude turned her head towards Charlie. "Huh?"

"I was asking if you were alright."

"Oh yeah. I'm fine."

The two continued walking down the street, passing by a candy shop.

"Do you think I could ever win a golden ticket?" Charlie seemed a bit down. "I only get one wonka bar a year for my birthday, and my grandpa spend his last shilling."

"Let me tell you this, Charlie, you're a bright young man." Maude kneeled down to his level, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I believe in you. You are worthy of a golden ticket. All those other kids don't have the kindness you share with others. And, as someone who's personally worked for Wonka, I'd save the best for last."

Charlie's spirits picked up. He smiled brightly, thanking Maude before heading home.

The next day, rumors speculated that some kid in Russia had found the last ticket, but it was later proven to be false. This rose to more anticipation to who would be the last ticket holder.

While reading through the newspaper, Maude found out that Charlie had found the very last golden ticket. Maude smiled widely. One of her students found the last golden ticket. She couldn't be more proud of him.

She stood amongst the crowd outside. She couldn't stay for long, but she wanted just a glimpse of Wonka, however, there was too many people in her way.

A few weeks later, it seemed that more and more people were curious about the factory. Charlie had told her some of the things that happened during his trip. Things that were completely outlandish, and weird. A girl turning into a blueberry? And, a boy nearly drowning into a chocolate river?

"You know, Mr. Wonka wasn't as nice as I thought he was." Charlie said.

"What do you mean?" Maude asked.

"Well, he was nice at first. He was going to offer me his entire factory. On the condition that I wouldn't ever see my family again."

Maude sighed. "Right."

This was quite like Will. Family wasn't at the forefront of his mind. Trusting people was also a big issue with him, considering in the past most of his workers turned against him.

"Have you ever thought about seeing Mr. Wonka again?" Charlie asked.

Maude looked at Charlie, with a wishful smile on her face. "All the time."

Another few weeks ago by, and Maude hadn't seen much of Charlie. She began to worry about him.

One day, she heard a knock on her door.

"Hello?" She answered.

Charlie was standing at the door, smiling up at her. "Good morning, Ms. Figgle."

"It's quite early, Charlie." She chuckled. "What is it?"

"I wanted you to meet someone."

Maude opened the door to see a man in a top hat, smiling nervously at her.

"Will?" Maude said, as tears were pricking from her eyes. Her heart was jumping out of her chest.

"Hey Maude." Willy smiled.

She pulled him into a hug, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Will was taken aback by the hug, but awkwardly caved in. He could hear soft sobbing coming from her, but he didn't mind.

Charlie smiled at the two.

In this one moment, Maude truly felt the pure happiness and joy as she felt when she was a child.

[aimmyarrowshigh]

Multiples of 5 for the fanfiction writer asks meme?

1. How old were you when you first starting writing fanfiction?

Technically, 14 -- that's how old I was when I started posting fic to the internet within a wider fanfiction community, so that's the "legit" answer. But I wrote stories starring my favorite characters from the time I was about two years old, and I didn't know that you were allowed to make up your own characters until I was in third grade, wrote a story for Young Authors about Kirsten Larson from American Girl, and my teacher told me that I was going to be arrested for plagiarism (which is Not Good Pedagogy, I Feel Like???). The earliest "fic" I remember writing was when I was two or three and used my mom's typewriter to write "Jesse Bear Goes To Zoo And Sees Mawonkinks," which was apparently flamingos. I spent Kindergarten writing Under the Umbrella Tree stories that I got spiral-bound in the school's "publishing center," too. I've always wanted to take the characters I love and move them around and mash their faces together to make them kiss.

5. If you had to choose a favourite out of all of your multi chaptered stories, which would it be and why?

Answered here!

10. In your xxx fic, why did you decide to end it like that? Did you have an alternative ending in mind?

You didn't specify a fic here, so I'll answer for the two fics that I get asked this about: Landslide and Dark Toast.

Landslide ends on a partial cliffhanger because Harry's journey is complete. He's not Harry anymore, he's become George. Any further story would inherently be from a very different perspective because Harry has changed so much, and also, it would be twice as long of a story and we didn't want to write a 400,000-word story (again). But other than loving to write with @kennyanimega, I've never wanted to write a sequel or a changed ending to Landslide.

And Dark Toast ends where it ends because it gives the story hope and opens the door to many, many directions that Katniss' and Peeta's journey together could take. Again, like, it ends at the completion of Katniss' journey as a solitary person and anything further would be part of Katniss' journey as a couple with Peeta and part of a two-person team. Katniss' arc of being afraid of intimacy, which is what the story is about, is over, so the story is over, too. :)

15) If you write OC’s, how do you decide on their names?

I tend to write child OCs and I write -- I guess in a way, a lot of the THG characters who go unnamed in canon (for example the Quarter Quell contestants) are kind of OCs, in that I had to name them? I named Millie, my biggest OC character, "Millie" because I wanted her to have a sort of timeless/old-fashioned name that shortened into something very short, diminutive, and girlish. I don't remember ever having any other options for her name, she was always Millie to me. And the demi-OCs in Twenty-Four Victors, Twenty-Four Tributes were named based on what their District's specialty was, or what it seemed to be based on then-current fanon and intertextual reading, since that's how the named THG characters are named.

20) Are there any stories that you wished you’d ended differently?

This feels like a repeat question! I will answer it differently by saying that I wish I'd actually finished Genesis.

25) Have you ever cried whilst writing a story?

If I don't cry, am I really writing? No tears from the writer, no tears from the reader, babey!

30) In contrast to 29 is there a story which gets lots of love which you kinda eye roll at?

Of my own stories? No, I'm flattered by the attention that anyone wants to give any of my stories. I WISH I KNEW HOW PEOPLE WERE SO CONSISTENTLY FINDING HOW RUE BECAME THE MOCKINGJAY, THOUGH. PLEASE TELL ME WHERE IT'S RECCED SO I CAN GO SEE WHY THE HECK IT STILL GETS SO MANY READERS TEN YEARS LATER.

35) Do you share your story ideas with anyone else or do you keep them close to your chest?

I talk about my stories to people who I trust to tell me when my ideas are going off the rails! I talk to @glycerineclown, @fille-lioncelle, @bebeocho, @dracosollicitus, and @reachmouse A LOT, and they always beta-read for me. Maggie @glycerineclown has been beta-reading for me since 2009, and Hannah @fille-lioncelle since I think 2011/2012, so I know they'll tell me when I bite off more than I can chew.

40) Do people know you write fanfiction?

Yes, especially because I'm in this book about it.

45) What spurs you on during the writing process?

I WISH I KNEW. If I knew, then I wouldn't have so many WIP Amnesties, tbh. Honestly, if I feel like I'm writing something no one cares about, then I stop caring and just stop writing, so I'm definitely encouraged by kudos and comments, and I'm encouraged by my friends' interest (or at least their pretending to be interested?) in my WIPs.

50) If you could write only angst, fluff or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why?

My immediate gut reaction is fluff, because I always act like everything I write is fluff, but then I look at my longer works and they're ALL angsty and smutty, so... I suppose angst, as long as it would be allowed to end with hope, which I personally think is the function of angst. Smut really stresses me out tbh.

[delightfulstarlightparadise]

Imagine Eijirou Kirishima and Reader

Before we begin I'd like to state that English is not my main language so, sometimes, things I write might seem a little off. But, I am doing my best.

I am not sure if in Japan they accept tips(I guess I have read somewhere it is kind of unpolite) but for this fic, let's bring it to the american context.

Context: you work at Fat Gum's favorite bakery. You have a quirk, but you have never developed it well because you have anxiety issues since you were little and never wanted to be a hero. You are used to seeing Fat Gum and Suneater at the bakery.

Fat Gum seems to like being attended by you because you always give him some extra sweet bread.

But when he sends Suneater to buy the food, it gets weird because both you and him are social disasters. You have lost count of how many times you've listened to him say "you too" when you say "enjoy your sweet bread".

...

It is about 3 o'clock, right about time Fat Gum or Suneater come to buy bread. It always makes you anxious. You keep looking at the door, trying to guess if it is the fine Fat Gum with his calming bad jokes and nice tips or his weird sidekick of weird energy and interaction.

You hear the bell ring at the door and turn to it, your chest almost bursting with anxiety. Then you see him: a red haired guy wearing the most appealing hero costume you've ever seen. You are used to getting nervous around people wearing revealing clothes.(wich is not unusual)

"Hey! I need to buy some sweet bread." He says giving you the sharpest teethed smile you've ever seen, and you are used to attending animal people.

"O...ok." you answer, not being able to avoid staring at those teeth.

"Ahn... so." He says.

"Yes?" you ask impulsively.

"The bread?" he looks at you with an worried expression.

"AH SURE!" You almost scream, back to reality. "How many will you want?"

"How many?" He scratches his head. "Damn it, I forgot to ask. Just a minute."

He runs off the store leaving you with the tongs and paper bag in hands. It takes a while before he comes back, but you get stuck in that position.

"So... forty, please. Fat Gum said: Stop loafing around and get the bread! Hahahahahaha!!" He starts laughing but you can see it is fake.

The guy slowly stops giggling and you can see his face becoming the same color as his hair.

"Aah... I guess my dough has sinked with this one." He says, scratching the back of his neck.

You can't even get yourself to force a laugh because seeing other people embarassed makes you nervous. You get the bread as fast as you can and handle it to him. Almost ten bags of bread.

"Wow. That is a loaf of bread!" he tries to make another pun and snaps his finger, blinking at you.

You stare at him almost without breathing. When Fat Gum makes these jokes he truly believes they are funny and his laugh makes you calm. But this guy seems to be doing this unwillingly, just like Suneater the first time he tried to buy bread(it was a disaster, both you and him almost passed out).

"He... here you go. Have a nice day. En... enjoy your bread." You stutter, bowing a little not only to say goodbye,but also to hide your face.

"You too."

You stare at each other, in shock. At this moment, Suneater always runs away as if his life depends on it, but this guy stays, looking deep at your eyes.

He sunddely starts laughing, this time, for real.

"Hahahahahaha!!! I am such an idiot. I am sorry. Here, nice work!" He hands you some extra money as a tip. "Hahahaha! You too. Wait for Denki to hear this."

As he goes away, you are feeling a little calmer. So... Fat Gum has a new sidekick now?!

Just to think about one more possibility of client for the 3 o'clock sweet bread batch you start to hiperventilate.

...

You arrive your apartment after a long day of work, put on some comfortable clothes and turn on the TV to listen while you are preparing some noodles for dinner.

"There has been a big increase of villain activity lately, seen All Might's recent retirement. We advise people to stay alert and communicate the authorities..." you run to change the channel.

You gasp for air, kneeled in front of the TV. You hate listening to anything related to heroes and villains, it brings you bad memories from when you were young. You can see yourself again, about eight years old, crying for help while a hero and a villain fight in front of you. This has traumatized you.

After a while, you get better, in the TV there is now a documentary about spring and flowers. This makes you calmer. They show a rose in the TV and you can't help but think about that guy who came to buy bread for Fat Gum. Red and sharp.

You laugh at the thought of it. A Red and sharp guy. What could his name be? Rose hero? You can't help but imagine his quirk being the ability of controlling roses, you can see him beating enemies by throwing sharp roses at them.

To think about that... that guy was pretty handsome.

...

3 o'clock. It is time for any of the three sweet bread buyers to come for the hot new batch. Would it be the funny Fat Gum? The anxious Suneater? Or the new supposed to be Rose hero?

The thougt of it starts giving you tachycardia. All you want is for it not to be weird.

The bell rings and there he is. The guy from yesterday with his too revealing costume and shark sharp smile.

"Hey! Some sweet bread, please!" He says as he stops in front of the display. "Forty loaves, please."

You let go a sigh of relief. No little jokes, no embarassment. Just a pretty normal client asking normally for an abnormal batch of sweet bread.

You hand him what he asked for and tell the price in a low voice.

"Ah! Fat Gum forgot to give me the money! Just a minute!" he says, and runs out of the store, leaving you with ten bags of bread in hands and a couple of costumers waiting to be attended next.

You can feel some cold sweat coming from your forehead while the impatient costumers stare at you, waiting for him to come back.

He rushes in, handing you the money with an unconfortable smile.

"I am very sorry..." he reads your name in your bage. "Y/n. Here it is."

"No problem." you stutter. "Ha... have a nice day."

"Ok! Good job!"

"You too."

You stare at each other realizing your mistake. He starts laughing.

"I guess our interactions are always going to be kind of weird,right?" he says, smiling at you with amusement. "I am Eijirou Kirishima. But my hero name is Red Riot. Nice to meet you, y/n."

"Ni...nice to..."

"Hey! Are you gonna buy something else or what?! There are more people in line!" The next costumer yells at him.

He straight up apologizes and goes away with the packs of bread, leaving you to a very stressed line of costumers to attend.

Every 3 o'clock, Red Riot is there with his sharp smile and cheerful personality. Everytime something goes wrong: he forgets the money, he asks you for the wrong quantity of bread and has to return to ask some more, out of anxiety you give him the incorrect change and has to chase after him to correct it, he pays you the wrong quantity, there is even a day he says "kisses, bye" as if he is endind a phone call and the worst thing is that you reply the same. He always laughs, but you feel like dying. Dealing with Suneater was better than this, even though it was bad, but now Red Riot was the only one to come.

Until this day. It is 3 o'clock, you are snapping your fingers anxiously, trying to prepare yourself for what is about to come. You hear the bell ring and turn to the door, but you find yourself facing a guy you've never seen before.

He is wearing an overcoat and sunglasses and starts wondering about the bakery without looking at you. Your manager is in the back and the other attendants are busy with clients, so you walk towards him to ask if he needs help.

"Excuse me." you say. "Can I help you with something?"

It happens fast. He grabs you by the wrist and then your neck, his other hand becomes a scissor and he puts it on your neck. Everyone screams in terror as all of his hair also become blades and threaten anyone who tries to escape.

"I will chopp your head off if you do anything funny!" he screams at you. "Now grab all the money from the register for me. If any of you move, everyone is going to die!"

He gives you a bag and takes you to the register. You feel dizzy and your eyes are blinded by tears. You try to remember the combination to open it up, but you are too nervous to remeber.

"Do it, right now!" he yells.

"I... I am sorry I don't... I can't..." you can feel the sharp razor against your skin.

"You useless prick!!" he yells and with one of the blades of his hair, he cuts the register open. "Now fill in the..."

You hear the bell of the door ringing and think that is it for you, someone is trying to escape. he is going to kill you. Then you see him,Red Riot, but the sharp teeth are now locked in an angry expression.

The villain attacks Red Riot with the blades on his hair, but they all break when they reach his skin. You see him becoming a rock made monster and coming towards you without hesitation.

He punches the villain away from you, he flies over the balcony, breaking an entire wall as he hits it. You fall on your knees and start crying.

"Hey!" you hear Red Riot's voice and feel his hands on your shoulder. "Are you ok? Did he hurt you?"

You shake your head negatively, but can't find strength to speak.

A bunch of scissors come towards you, but Red Riot defends you with his body. One of them scratches your cheek and you feel like you are about to pass out.

"Damn you, hero! I am gonna finish you!! You are gonna regret..."

The villain is captured by an octopus tentacle and pulled out of the store. You see him sink into Fat Gum's belly.

Everyonelse is cheering but you are about to colapse into a panic attack. That is when you feel a gentle hand huggin you over your shoulder and handing you a paper bag for you to breath into. It is Red Riot, he is smiling at you.

"It is ok now. You are safe, y/n"

Somehow, the sound of his voice calms you down.

...

After a tiring testimony for the pilice, you are free to go to your house. You see him first thing when you leave the station.

"Hey! Are you ok?" Red Riot asks you.

He is not wearing the mask or the soulder pads of his hero costume.

"I am now. Thank you for saving me." You say, bowing at him.

"It's ok! Hehe... it's my job to do it." He replies smiling at you, his face blushed. "So... do you want me to walk you home?"

You stare at him, not being able to chose what to reply.

"Actually, I have to do it. Fat Gum said so." He says. "So you don't have much of a choice."

You nod to him.

You walk in silence till you arrive your building.

"Thank you again for saving me." You say, bowing at him once more.

"Don't worry." He answers, bowing back at you. "It is my duty as a hero."

"You know, I don't like heroes a lot..." you say shrinking your shoulders and putting your head down. "I am afraid."

"Hãn? Afraid of heroes??"

"Ah!" You gasp, realizing you should not have said that. "Sorry, it was nothing. I... have to go now, I have classes in the morning."

"You are a student too?" He asks.

"Yeah... I work half time in the bakery... but I guess we won't be working for a while."

"Ah... right. Too bad, I will miss buying your bread. I got used to seeing you everyday."

You turn around to get into the building, but he holds you gently by the wirst.

"Can I have your number?" he asks.

You shriek in confusion and pull your wirst to yourself, taking some steps back. Red Riot jumps back, once your sudden reaction caught him off guard. You stare at each other, both as red as his hair.

"SORRY! SORRY! I shouldn't have..." he starts bowing at you in apologies. "It is just that Fat Gum talked so much about this! I think he ended up convincing me that... I am sorry, I am very sorry."

You shake your head and hands as a "no problem" sign, but he probably understands otherwise, once he starts to apologize even harder.

"If I give you my number, would you stop talking?!" You yell at him, taking your pen and notepad out of your uniform pocket.

You write it down as fast as you can and almost throws it at him, then, run to your appartament without even saying goodbye.

You slam the door behind you and lean against it, breathing heavily. You are a communication disaster...

You are tired, traumatized once again by villains and heroes.

Yet, you can't help but thinking about that sharp teethed smile. It makes you feel calm again.

Next part here:

[hawkbucks]

Okay, so I usually don't send this kind of asks or prompts, because I don't have any wishes - I'm happy with whatever I get. But if you're up for it, I'd really love some HEAVY Tony-centric angst. Ship or no ship, whatever you prefer more, and sad end - or if you're not comfortable with that not more than a hopeful end. I just want you to crush my heart and make me cry. A lot. If that's nothing you want to write, that's okay, I love your writing anyway! Thank you for all your hc's and fics! :)

HELLO, FIRST OF ALL, I AM SORRY FOR TAKING THIS LONG AND SECOND OF ALL, THANK YOU FOR BEING WILLING TO WAIT. 

I hope this quenches your thirst for angst! I’ll admit to not really? Writing angst that much? So I’m not sure how this holds up, but I hope it’s okay! 

Loosely inspired by canon.

As a child, Tony comes to the realization that he is not meant to be loved. 

His mother tries. Oh, God, she tries. She brushes his hair in the mornings, places bandages over his bloodied knees whenever he went to play out in the garden and inevitably fell due to an untied shoelace, but nothing--nothing--she does makes up for the way his father treats him, the way those barbed words wrapped themselves around his heart and lungs and squeeze until he could barely breathe. 

See, dear old dad makes sure that his dissatisfaction with Tony makes itself apparent at every turn. Tony isn’t smart enough, he isn’t quick enough, he isn’t careful enough, he isn’t tough enough. He cries too much, clings too tightly to his mother, spends more days reading about King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table than brushing up on his advanced mathematics courses. 

“You're useless,” he remembers his father sneering, smelling faintly of alcohol and cigar smoke, while he desperately bites his lower lip to stifle his sobs as he picked up the remains of his toy car on the floor, “spending your time on those things instead of studying. I don’t see why Maria bothers. I certainly wouldn’t.” 

Clutching the scraps of metal to his chest, Tony runs out of the room as fast as his legs can carry him. He throws them in the trash, nearly retching up his entire lunch as he does so before going into his bedroom and curling up in his bed, buried under a ridiculous amount of blankets. He doesn’t know what to do to make his father happy short of running away and risking his life on the streets. 

He doesn’t know what to do to make his father love him. 

He keeps to himself at school. People don’t seek him out, and he doesn’t seek people out. He gets labelled as the “eccentric rich boy,” which is fine by him. 

Except there’s this other kid, James Rhodes, around 3 years older, that won’t stop trying to get him to come out of his shell. It probably helps that they’re roommates, otherwise Tony would be giving him a wide, wide berth. As in, making detours to the other side of the campus kind of wide. 

“C’mon.” Rhodes slides him a plate laden with a microwaved chocolate croissant. “Talk to me a little.” 

Tony eyes the plate. He hesitantly reaches forward, like he’s afraid that Rhodes is going to snatch it away from him at the last second, before bringing it towards himself. He nibbles at the edges of the pleasantly warm croissant. “Why do you care so much?” 

“Because you seem scared every time that I see you?” Rhodes answers. “Listen, Tony, you’re young. Younger than anyone else on this campus. I’m... worried, you know? You need someone looking out for you.” 

“I don’t need a babysitter.” 

“And I’m not trying to be one. I’m just saying that you’d be better off having someone who cares for you. I’m not going to swaddle you and put you in diapers.”

Tony wrinkles his nose. “You better not.” 

Rhodes smiles at him. Tony finds himself smiling back.

It’s nice, having someone with him at school. He and Rhodes--or Rhodey, as he now calls him--are basically attached at the hip. They do anything and everything they can together. Tony has almost forgotten how it’s like to be this happy. 

He tells Rhodey one day, tentatively excited, that he’s found this girl: Sunset Bain. She’s a brunette with hair all the way down to the middle of her back, she’s wicked smart with a rapier wit, and, most importantly, she doesn’t care that Tony’s a Stark. 

“Stop growing up so fast,” Rhodey complains. “It’s making me feel old.” 

“You’re 19.” 

“I feel old.” 

They go on dates--nice ones, but not expensive. 

He has his first kiss with her. It’s quick and chaste, but he liked it. She doesn’t push him to go further, and for that he’s glad. 

He holds her hand as they walk under the trees. 

As it turns out, Sunset did a little snooping in his stuff when he’s distracted and made off with Stark company secrets right after they celebrated their 6th month together. 

“Stupid boy,” his father snarls, slamming a hand down on his desk. Tony’s heard it all before, but that doesn’t mean it hurts any less. He doesn’t look up from the floor, hands clasped behind his back. 

Tony croaks, “I didn’t--”

“Didn’t what? Didn’t think she’d take advantage of you? Did you actually think she loved you?” 

Tony doesn’t respond. He doesn’t want to appear to be even more of an idiot, because, yes, he actually thought she loved him. She would whisper as much when they cuddled on the couch, anyway. 

“Unbelievable,” Howard mutters, taking Tony’s silence as confirmation of that fact. “Get out. I have to deal with this mess that you made.” 

Tony nods. “Yes, sir.” 

He leaves, each step heavy. Everything after that is a blur. All he knows is that he left that room and he ended up back in his dorm, face down on the floor, sobbing his eyes out with a half-empty bottle of Vodka lying next to him.  

His parents die at some point. Car accident.  

He sobs into his pillow. He wishes--

He wishes he was in the car, too. At least he’d be with his mother.

Rhodey has been his anchor through all of this. He lets Tony ruin his shirts with his tears and his snot. He brings Tony coffee and cupcakes whenever he thought he could use some cheering up. Hell, he even offers to TP Sunset’s house--a tempting offer if he didn’t know that Rhodey would end up arrested for doing so. 

Like most good things in his life, Rhodey ends up leaving to join the Air Force. Tony wishes he could be selfish enough to ask Rhodey to stay a little longer, but he doesn’t. 

He gives him a hug and a pat on the back, and Rhodey is gone.

Rhodey tries to contact him. He calls, sends letters, e-mails, but Tony doesn’t reply. 

He knows it’s self-sabotaging. He knows that it’ll end up ruining one of the rare positive relationships he’s ever had in his far too long-feeling life, but he doesn’t care.

He’s never deserved Rhodey’s love. 

Tony is unsure if he should feel the glad the morning he wakes up and doesn’t see a missed call from Rhodes sitting in his inbox. 

He drifts along in life. Stark Industries was handed over to Obadiah Stane, and Tony has no plans on taking it from him. 

He drinks, orders takeout, spends his days on his phone or laptop. He’s rich enough that he doesn’t ever have to lift a finger to work in his life. It’s a boring--if safe--life. 

Crossing the street one day, he literally runs into a guy: tall, broad shoulders, with pretty blond hair. He apologizes profusely, but the guy brushes it off, tugging him over to the other side when a car honks. “I’m Tiberius,” the guy says, holding a hand out.

Tony takes it. “I’m Tony.” 

He falls in love with Tiberius fast and hard. It’s like Sunset, but a million times more intense. There’s just... something about the man that makes adrenaline pump in Tony’s veins and gives him a high that he has to spend hours shaking off afterwards. 

Of course, he’s terrified. Rhodes isn’t going to be there if something goes wrong (and something usually does go wrong when he’s concerned). 

Then Tiberius kisses him right before he leaves Tony’s apartment, and he melts. 

“No one else could love you like I can, Tony,” Tiberius murmurs against his lips, the movie they were watching all but forgotten in the background. 

Tony hums. He wraps his arms around Tiberius’ neck and draws him closer. Tiberius loves him. Maybe all of his insecurities were wrong.

“Ty,” Tony says in his best soothing voice. “Leave him alone. He didn’t know.” Tiberius is weirdly territorial. He won’t let anyone near Tony, man or woman, young or old. 

“Like hell he didn’t.” Tiberius continues to glare at the trembling man in front of him. “I should knock his lights out.” 

“Don’t.” Tony grabs onto Tiberius’ bicep and starts to pull him away. “C’mon, let’s just leave. We’re going to miss our reservation.” 

Tiberius rips his arm from Tony’s hold. “Oh, so you’re siding with him? Maybe you should go on a date with him if you care about him that much!” He stomps away, leaving behind a scared, slightly frazzled Tony. 

“I’m sorry about him,” Tony says to the man next to him, trying his best to put on an assuring smile. “He can get riled up.” 

“It’s--it’s fine,” the man replies. “I should be the one apologizing to you. He’s... you’re going to be alright, right?” 

“Of course I am,” Tony replies, confused. “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

The man looks at him with pity.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Tiberius says, arms around Tony’s waist, kissing his neck. “I just love you so much.” 

“Yeah.” Tony’s tone is empty. Tiberius has... well, he’s changed a lot. Tony thought that he was possessive before, but now he’s like a monster. All the woman did was wink at him and Tiberius yelled at her to the point where she was on the verge of tears. 

He still loves Tiberius, though. He thinks he does. He’s not too sure. Tiberius loves him, though. He knows that. 

Tiberius pauses. “Do you not love me anymore?” 

“What?” Tony places his hands on Tiberius’ shoulders. “I do!” 

“Why didn’t you say it back?” 

Tony swallows. “I was... distracted.” 

Tiberius narrows his eyes, gaze going steely. “Are you thinking about her?” 

“Ty--”

“You are, aren’t you?” 

“You’re being ridiculous--” 

Tiberius’ hand moves up to the back of Tony’s neck, and Tony feels the ice cold grip of fear in his stomach. “Who else is going to love you if not for me, Tony? I’m the only one who can put up with you.” 

Tony feels bile rise up the back of his throat. This isn’t healthy. This is far from it. 

But if this is the kind of love that he deserves, then he’ll take it. 

[the-council-of-new-york-vampires]

I'd be interested in you writing another fic on Priya's past, Admin go for it! Priya is like the only council member character in the bloodbound series that we don't know about before meeting the council, much less who turned her? if it wasn't Gaius, all we know is she dated Adam in the 1920's.

Out of Character:

“The 1920s” are in fact 1924. 😉 We know she came to America in that year, too, but we don’t know why or where she was before… 🤔 That’s not what my fic is about, though. 😅

BUT I HAVE A HEADCANON FOR IT THAT CAN BE A WHOLE NEW FIC. 😍

I went back far more to write a past for Priya’s past. :D

It’s kinda triggering, like the first one, but there is no NSFW in it. Enjoy!

Three figures were standing in the kitchen.

“Priya, give me the rice,” was an order from the oldest.

The six year old grabbed the rice-filled pot. She had lifted it up from the table, but it was heavy and her hands were tiny. She tried her best to hold on, but her strength wasn’t enough: the pot slipped out of her fingers and fell onto the ground, covering the floor in rice!

“Priya!” her grandmother cursed.

“I’m sorry! I couldn’t hold it!” she whined.

“Can you do anything right at all?” the old woman barked.

Priya’s older sister bit her lip. “Grandmother… Please don’t be so strict with Priya… She is only six…”

“I was managing the whole household on my own when I was six!”

“But-”

Tolerating no such accidents, she turned to Priya and cursed, “Out!” Her arm outstretched, she pointed at the door. “Out with you!”

Priya obeyed, quickly leaving the room. She stayed outside, walked around her neighborhood, played with friends, kept herself busy until dusk, when it had gotten dark and cold. The little girl knocked at her house’s door to get back in and waited.

Her grandmother opened. Immediately, she shouted, “I told you not to bring strays home!”

Wearing a sad face, Priya pulled the rescued kitten in her arms closer to her chest. “It has no home.”

The old woman grabbed the cat - and threw it down to land on its feet! “This is not a place for strays!” She then reached out for Priya and pulled her inside.

Being reminded of her own house’s warmth, Priya wished that no living being had to suffer in the cold…

“As you have made a mess in the kitchen today, it serves you right to clean it up,” the old woman stated sternly.

Priya nodded. Looking up to her grandmother with big eyes, she asked, “Is there food left?”

For a single moment, she seemed to be sad. Then, the woman pulled herself back together and answered, “Of course not. The only thing we had was the rice that your brothers had to eat filthily, because you let it fall!”

“I’m sorry…”

Pressed onto each other, her wrinkled lips formed a line. “…It’s fine. Please clean the kitchen. I’ll be sewing in another room.”

“Alright.”

On her way to the kitchen, Priya walked past the bedroom - and couldn’t overhear the sound of… crying. She held on for a second… and realized that she didn’t want to ignore this. Opening the door slightly, she found a loved one sobbing.

“…Mother?”

The woman looked up in shock. “Priya! Do you… need something?”

Priya allowed herself to walk inside, close the door for privacy and approach the bed on which her mother was sitting on. “Why are you crying?”

“I…” Her face tear-stained, she tried to form a sentence, establish eye contact with her daughter… but it was too difficult. Covering her face, she broke down once again. The only sentence hearable was a pained, “I’m sorry…” that got repeated many times…

Feeling her mother’s emotional pain, Priya reached out and stroked her back while simply being there to listen. “Why are you sorry?”

“You wouldn’t understand… Please… Please leave me alone…”

Even though she knew that it was right to give her mother space, Priya left the room feeling devastated.

When entering the kitchen, she found her two older brothers sitting at the table, reading. Usually, she would have asked them questions about school, about reading and writing, about all the things she wasn’t allowed to experience. But this day was different.

Unafraid to interrupt, asking for help in a very subtle way, Priya stated, “Mother is crying.”

Looking up from his papers was Priya’s brother, a few years older than her. “It’s because of our sister,” he said.

Priya’s sister was her role model, her favorite person. “Where is she? What happened?”

His eyes widened as he recalled the mental image, stating, “Men came here, and they took her away.”

Priya gaped. “What?”

Her brothers were quiet, but the sadness surrounding them was an obvious and loud scream.

In disbelief, she asked again, “What happened?”

It was then that Priya’s oldest brother looked at her, his eyes dead as he explained, “Mother sold her.”

-

“Priya?”

“Yes?”

The toddler giggled. “Have you ever kissed your boyfriend?”

Priya looked up from brushing her little sister’s hair and grinned. “I’ve done more than that with him.”

The little girl gaped. “What have you done?”

Priya’s grin got wider. “I can’t tell you.”

“Why?”

“You’re too young.”

“I’m not! Tell me!”

Priya laughed, entertained, but she didn’t plan on giving an answer. Her mother would kill her if she knew of this at all.

Suddenly, the little girl giggled. “Will you marry him?”

“I have no idea…”

“How tall is he?”

“Your hair is done. It’s time for bed.”

The toddler sighed, but let her older sister pick her up and place her in bed.

Priya lied down next to her sister, as there wasn’t enough space in the house or money in their pockets to afford several beds. “More gossip tomorrow,” she promised, grinning.

This morning, rays of sunlight shining in Priya’s face were what woke her up. That was highly unusual, as she was normally woken up early. She turned to her side, to find her sister gone, the room in the state they had left it.

It was then that the door opened, revealing Priya’s mother who stepped inside, wearing a sad smile. “Good morning, beautiful.”

“Good morning… Why didn’t you wake me up?”

She approached and sat down on the bed to continue the conversation with her daughter. Letting a hand run through Priya’s full, wavy hair, she stated, “I wanted you to sleep in just this once.”

Priya’s eyes widened, she didn’t understand. “But… My chores…”

“Your sister has finished them.”

The young woman scowled. “She didn’t have to. You could have woken me up.”

After looking at her for a few moments, Priya’s mother simply bit her lip. “Would you come outside with me?”

Immediately, Priya thought that something had happened. However, she complied and followed her mother through the house. They stopped when reaching the door.

“I’ve… packed a few things for you…” she said, pointing at a bag by the door.

…Was her mother throwing her out? Had she found out about Priya’s boyfriend? Was her sister a snitch?

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

It was then that Priya’s mother got hysterical. “They’re here!”

Priya gaped. “Who’s that?”

Her mother placed her hands on Priya’s shoulders and pulled her into a hug. “Priya, I am so sorry. Never forget that I love you! I swear that I will do anything in my power to get you back out!”

As Priya realized what was happening, she felt a feeling she had never felt before. Shock, fear, sadness, confusion - all mixed up inside her, urging her to scream, to run away, to break down and cry…

The knocks got louder. Someone was banging on the door! “Open!”

Seeing that her mother was moving towards the door, Priya reached out for her arm, nails digging in! “Mother, no!”

“Please don’t make this more difficult, Priya,” she said, tears welling up in her dark brown eyes. “We will meet again, I promise.”

“You… You can’t do this to me! Am I a piece of shit to you?!”

The tears started rolling. “I don’t want this family to starve. Your siblings, they’re… They’re so young… You are so grown, Priya. You can do this. Someday, I will get you back out even if it’s the last thing I’ll ever-”

“Open!”

Realizing that another wave of violence would surely break the door, Priya’s mother was about to let the men enter.

Her daughter’s eyes were set on her. “If you do this…”

“Priya… I’m sorry… There’s no other way…”

“No other way?”

Her mother was sobbing. “No… And you know there isn’t…”

“Open the door!”

“…Mother?“

“Yes, my dear?”

“Burn in hell.”

-

Her hand grabbed by a sweaty man, Priya walked through a dimly lit hallway. They passed rooms from which she heard women crying, screaming… moaning.

The man brought her to a shabby room that contained nothing but a bed, claiming, “You won’t need any more than that.”

Priya turned to him, having just a single question. “How do I get out of here?”

“I wouldn’t try escaping, unless you want to get beaten.”

“…You can’t keep me here forever.”

“Why not?”

She looked at him, her eyes dead… and knew that he was serious.

“You, princess, have sold your soul.”

-

From out of her bed, Priya watched the sunset. Still, even after this day, she was in a state of disbelief.

On one side, she felt betrayed, worthless, stabbed in the back. On the other side, she wondered how in the world she couldn’t have guessed this would happen, what a fool she was to believe she had been born into a safe environment.

She thought of her mother, her siblings, her boyfriend… Would she ever see them again? Did she even want to? Hell, would she survive this?

Her bleeding nose because she had resisted… The bruises on her skin because they had gotten their way anyway… The constant feeling of disgust because she hadn’t consented… The reminder that the people she loved had done this to her… All this was proof to Priya that hell did exist… and she had booked a lifelong ticket.

-

Priya didn’t know that she would in fact not make it out alive. She didn’t know that she would someday run away and digest her trauma. She didn’t know that she would travel to New York, and meet a man that would change her world the way she knew it.

But she did know one thing: Priya knew for sure that she would never be the same again.

[rixxy8173571m3w1p3]

The Little Big Things (3/4)

So like we had done not too long ago, me, @hoodoo12 @porkchop-ao3 @rickstexaschick are doing the same prompt cause we all loved the idea. And I didn't mention it before, but this story references Labyrinth, and it follows the events of this fic As The World Falls Down.

Many thanks to @xerxezra @hoodoo12 @porkchop-ao3 for some writing advice that helped me get through this chapter. I love you all.

This is part 3. If you haven't read part one or part two then read it here. (Part 1, Part 2)

_______________________

Chapter 3: Saudade

Once upon a time, not so long ago, there was a scientist, whom after trying all that he could to wake up his unconscious girlfriend had began to wonder if the only thing he hadn't tried would work; for while she appeared to be in a coma, she was merely in a deep sleep like sleeping beauty, but prettier.

“I'm sorry Rick.” you interrupted by poking his cheek. “I appreciate your lovely words, but I can't say that I'm beautiful while snoring, so you better stop that. No embellishing.”

Giving your hand a squeeze, he said softly. “But y-you are. I even have a-a picture on my phone somewhere.”

“If it's of me drooling, then it's going to magically disappear. You always like the bad pics.”

“Hohoho, there a-aren't any bad photos. I like th-them all.”

Which he meant, even if you felt contrary to the statement. “Whatever you say Rick. So, before I interrupted, you were going to explain why you used the dream inceptors. Right?”

“Mhm,” he nodded. “that's right. You see, physically there was nothing the - the matter with you, but y-you did have a bit of a fever. And monitoring your vitals, I had come to realize you already p-passed the first hour or so of sleep, during which brain waves slow down. This period of - of slow wave sleep is accompanied by relaxation of the muscles and the eyes. Then, over the next half hour or so, your br-brain activity altered drastically, and you entered the REM stage. During that stage, there is atonia or p-paralysis of the body’s muscles. Only the muscles th-that allow breathing and control eye movements remain active. I thought, that well - since nothing else worked it couldn't hurt t-t-to try using the dream inceptors.”

If your memory served correctly, you had woken up in your own bed. Which meant, he carried you, portaled into your home, and set up the monitoring equipment on your computer desk. “So, you brought me back to my home, laid me down on my bed, and plugged those earbud thingys in my ears.”

You knew what they were called, but it was always worth listening to him laugh, and feeling the happy noise reverberate through his body; this was your reward. “Those th-thingys allowed me t-to enter into your dreams. I ugh - I used t-t-to wonder what it would be like, and if y-you would welcome me in your dreams.”

“I welcome you into my home. Isn't it about the same thing?”

“N-n-not exactly. Dreams are more private. They can r-reveal or disguise our innermost thoughts and inclinations. Neither of us have th-the same dream, and our subconscious is free t-t-to play its short clips and feature length imagery.

It's - it's not like anyone c-could enters another person's dream, but I have just like other Ricks have in their own respective realities. I'm s-sorry that I did, especially w-without your permission.”

“You did what you had to, and I trust you. You never have to doubt that.”

The lilting tune around you softened to the gentle sounds similar to that of a kalimba or music box; possibly both. Kissing your temple, he admitted quietly, in a tone you hardly recognized. “Dreams they can - can be intimate as well. Did y-y-you know that?”

“No,” you blushed, his anxious heart beat making you both nervous and giddy. “but I think I'm starting to get an idea. Why,” you teased. “do you dream of me?”

Covering his face, he groaned in embarrassment. “Gosh, I-I-I do, but not in the way that y-you'd think.”

“In what way then?”

Sneaking a peek at you, he said sheepishly. “It's - I dream about how y-you help me with experiments. Sometimes I dream a-about what we normally do, and how my life is w-with you. I um - I have even dreamed that w-we switched places, and that I'm just a regular guy and you - you are this demi-goddess of science, pulling me away from my average life t-to that of adventures.”

“Demi-goddess?” you giggled, watching as his blush went from a dusty pink to a dangerous shade of red. “That's so flattering, but I'm not like that. I'm not perfect.”

“Y-you are to me.”

Poking his cheek again, you smiled. “And you are to me.”

And for a while he kept quiet, absentmindedly playing with your hair. He did that thing with his eyebrow, when he was thinking too hard for his own good; lost in his thoughts, overthinking his actions, afraid of his words which came out of his mouth. When he found the courage to speak again, his voice was colored with the usual sincerity. “I um, b-because you're sweet, I wondered if your dreams - if they would be just as sweet. M-mi corazón,” he softened, “what I'm trying t-to say is I wanted to know if - if maybe you……oh n-never mind.”

“Rick, what is it? If it's important, then you can tell me.”

Shaking his head, he relinquished his previous thought, this time giving your hand a kiss and continued with his original explanation. “At first, I um - I found myself amidst a-a parched land, where the wind whispered doubts, and the sky flashed visions of the past. I knew th-this wasn't the central point of activity, so I started w-walking.”

__________

Miles upon miles there was nothing, but a desert; not even cacti or wildflowers. It made him worry a bit, but he held onto the hope that he would soon enter the active part of the dream; wherever that might be. Later, when he came upon the people in the nearest village, he found that they were in need of water and had been digging deeper and deeper in search of it, but all their wells were dry. As they had explained, by now the melted ice from the mountain should have fed their rivers and streams, but as yet, it hadn't.

Because his heart compelled him to assist them, he borrowed the necessary supplies to go on a quest, up the mountain, where there was a castle carved out of ice and stone. And there he found a comely young man seated upon a throne of clear quartz; he was the king of the mountain, who had been withholding the water, for the village leader had refused to relinquish his fair daughter, on the grounds that the king was immortal. After an in-depth discussion, the two came to an agreement, with the king abdicating the throne and returning to the land of mortals in hopes of wooing his lady love. Now, a deal was a deal, and the moment the scientist placed the crown upon his head, he gained the power beyond his current understanding, and was able to extend his sight; allowing him to see what occurred across the land he reigned over and beyond. And it happened, that when his eyes found his beloved, he was shocked to find she was but a babe.

You sat up, pulling yourself out of his grasp.

“Hold up! You mean to say that you had to wait for me to grow up?”

“Again?” he frowned a little. “Y-y-yes, I did.”

Your heart sank at his reply. “What do you mean again? Oh God, don't tell me this happened before.”

Scratching the back of his neck, he sighed. “N-n-not exactly the same way, but that's a-a story for another time.”

“Alright.”

This was common with him. If he wasn't ready to talk about something, then he'd promise to tell you later; whenever that would be. Oh, but a different thought occurred to you. What if he had waited for you to grow up in your reality? Why, that would have been absurd, unless he had met you before, but when? At the moment, you were too tired to go through the whole list of theories. He continued. “In your dream, I had t-to, because time travels differently in - in dreams, and if I-I hadn't had the powers which were granted me, I would have…y-you know.”

“Goodness, you could….. you would have died… before we ever met again. Right? Oh Rick, I know you explained how the dream inceptors worked before, but I sometimes can't wrap my head around it.”

He waited over twenty years in a dream. Who does that? Not anyone you had ever known, but Zeta-7 wasn't just anyone. It spoke volumes about his affection for you, and further about his determination. Looking down at his lanky form, you felt tears pricking at the back of your eyes. He didn't look a day older, but that was the magic of dreams wasn't it? There was always a way. “Thank goodness you're still here. I don't know how I'd live with myself if you had died because of me.”

Giving your hand a light squeeze, you couldn't hold back your tears anymore. You really were were a horrible person. If he wasn't so kind hearted surely he would hate. Your idiocy time and time again had brought him hardship and pain. Why did he love you if your were like this?

You heard the rustling of clothes, and felt his warmth all around you. Pulling you close, he squeezed you tight, telling you it was going to be alright. And all you could do was drown in his unconditional love which is as vast and limitless as the furthest reaches of space. You two remained like this until your tears dried up, and all that was left was comfort. When you found your voice, as sniffly and girlish it was, you wondered. “What did you do with your time? Over all those years?”

With a voice colored with relief, he answered. “All th-that I could.”

___________

The previous king had left the land in disarray, so he did all he could in his power to make things right. Immediately, he made sure the water flowed at a steady pace, and the once dying land in due time was fertile again due to his guidance. And when the people were no longer hungry, and the village prospered, many came to show their devotion and gratitude to the new king. They wondered how they could repay him, but the king didn't need anything. However, when they saw that he needed assistance in planting, and covering the land with flowers, they got to work immediately.

Hybrid blue roses, forget-me-nots, morning glories, night-sky petunias, and any other flower he could conjure would be planted. Only one side was dedicated for those blue flowers; the side with the best view. And the rest of the land that wasn't used for farming was covered with giant sunflowers; all of them for his beloved. Time, it wanted to make him a dreamer, and even if logic told him otherwise, it took a little longer than usual to accept it. Time would pass, and it would all happen soon. He could wait.

“I remember the lovely flowers along the rolling hills.” you commented. “I saw them my whole life and longed for the places I couldn't go. They couldn't be found where I lived because of the climate, but you wanted me to remember, didn't you?”

“I-I did. You see, the last time you thought of blue it was connected with something toxic. Therefore, you a-a-associated the color with something bad, and I hoped you - you would remember your life w-w-with…..”

“With you?”

“With everything y-you cared for.”

He always gave himself too little credit. This man was worthy of so much, and you'd worship the ground he walked on if he'd let you. Tilting your head up, you pressed a kiss on his cheek.“Which is mostly you.”

“R-really?”

“Of course Ricky.”

Tucking a lock of hair behind your ear, he was about to say something, but his ioculus stretched themselves to kiss you before he had a chance to. Wherever they could touch, they kissed, and no matter how much he'd scold them, they were as eager as could be. You'd say they had a bit of a rebellious streak. Not wanting Zeta-7 to worry, you gave into their whim, kissing each bud of theirs on the head, to which made them bloom, and pull away. Honestly, they were adorable, but to Zeta-7, who was naturally reserved and cautious, they were disrespectful, and naughty.

“Gosh,” he blushed. “I'm s-s-so sorry. I didn't - I don't know why they do that.”

Again, you had your theories, believing that they acted upon the true inclinations of the heart, but you kept this to yourself. “It's okay,” you reassured him. “they're not bothering me.”

“They r-really do have a-a mind of their own.”

“So they do.” you giggled. “I um, what I was going to say was that I only remember bits and pieces of the before times. It's funny to call it that, as though I've lived separate lifetimes, but that's how I think of it.”

“Fascinating.”

“You think so? Well, maybe it's like chapters, or alternate dimensions, but that wouldn't explain it either. The before times was from the time I was born and ended when I met Jareth. After I met him, my memory of before got kind of hazy.”

“I-I see. Well, that's - that's perfectly natural. It's like any other dream, which most of - of us can't remember when we wake.”

Then, how come you kept on remembering?

___________________

Over and over, you encouraged him to go on. No detail was too small. Whether it was about the time the villagers tried to offer him a bride, or the creatures he made of ice and stone to be his companions in his castle. Though, there were other things you wanted to know.

“Where I lived it never rained, but it often rained on the mountain. Was it natural, or was it because you cried?”

“Jeez, where d-do I begin? If I-I tried to lessen the importance of a memory, then it - it became somewhat manageable. I thought I would have gotten used to it, because I've spent many years of - of my life alone. But, being with you, I let go of m-my habit of detachment, and without it, how does one forget s-s-so easily?”

“I don't know.” You answered, cause you were still trying to figure that out as well.

“There ugh - there were times when th-the loneliness was almost too hard to bear, and I-I-I couldn't - there was nothing I could do, but I had t-t-to carry on. Still, without trying, the memories lingered, and life seemed to come out of focus.”

“Hmm, I used to wonder about what was going on up there, and what living in that kingdom was like. In your skilled hands it must have been beautiful.”

“It - it was.”

“I used to cry sometimes, because I had heard many sad stories about lonely mountain king. Now, with everything that you told me, I guess it means that a great deal of the stories were true.”

With a nod, he agreed. “Th-they probably were.”

_______________________

“Did you always know where I was?”

“N-n-not always. I could only see so far, even if I - I walked to the edge of the kingdom. However, our first meeting was serendipitous t-t-to say the least. I ugh - I was surprised when y-you found me.”

“I did?”

He raised his brow then, his eyes laughing at the memory. “Yeah, it was while I was resting by the river, after a long day of research. Your mind is such a-a wonderful, fascinating place. I-I never got bored of exploring it, though it - it did make me lonely. My perception of you changed over all this new information. And on that day I-I had been thinking about you when you happened t-to show up. You - you were on your way home, after a-a day of playing in the field, the one nearest to my kingdom. Hohoho, you were holding a daisy chain, and y-you gave it to me.”

“How old was I?”

“Hmm, probably about six or - or seven. I told you that y-you should go home, but you wanted t-t-to play.”

“That does sound like something I'd do. Man, I can't believe you had to deal with a brat like me.”

“No, it - it was no trouble at all. I um - I carried you on my shoulders, until w-we were near your home. And w-waited until you went inside before I went back.”

And you remembered, as fuzzy and foggy as it was, you remembered.

Day by day, you kept having visions of the life before, when you still walked amongst the mortals, and your older male slave was your dearest companion. Why? It didn't make sense, he hadn't even been handsome, but he was kind, loyal, generous, and soft hearted.

Through streams and meadows, with eyes still full of stardust, you followed him as a though you were his humble maidservant. On his sleeves were comet’s hair, his soul made of sunshine, and he too made you very happy. Oh, but it didn't matter anymore; they were simply girlish dreams. Or were they?

“I used to think that you were only a dream, but I saw you near the river a few times over the years after that didn't I?”

With a soft smile, he replied. “Th-that's right.”

“Then why didn't you say anything?”

“Because I wanted y-you to have a choice, and when you got older, I-I-I decided to stay away because the villagers began to talk. I didn't want anyone to be given reason t-to think badly of you.”

That was exactly like him, to look out for your best interests. As a child, at least in your dream living out this second childhood, you did feel funny. Though childish sentiments aside, you had adored the quiet intelligence of his, and the calm, sweet temperament; even when you hadn't the words to match the emotions felt, you carried a strong attachment. “I had missed you, I….it was my favorite part of the day. Why couldn't we have run away together or something?”

Scratching the back of his head, he sighed then looked you dead in the eye, more serious than he had ever been, answering without a stutter. “Because it would have been wrong.”

“I don't understand. It was only a dream.”

“I mean, if I-I would have brought you to my kingdom, you would’ve been given your own wing, and everything y-you desired, but you - you would have stopped aging. That's why I-I never kept any servants, and why you couldn't have come because you would have remained a…you know. ”

“A child.” you finished, and you realized that morally, he would have had to be patient, and focus on the attainable things. “So,” you continued. “you stayed away to keep things appropriate.”

“Mhm. I - I still thought of you as my friend, and I was grateful for even th-that much. I-I knew you wouldn't be a child f-forever, and that I couldn't make time stand still, but neither was I moving along with it. Seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, into months; it was passing along, and I-I remained the same, but you - you had t-t-to survive, and it would've been selfish to make things harder for you. So, I had to wait.”

TBC