art-et-matiere

[alchemie-tarot]

A Message For You~ An 11-11 Pick-A-Card Reading

Note: Hi there! This is my first ever pick-a-card reading. I’ve been around the tarot community here for a while now, participating in games and marvelling at the beauty and power all the lovely and talented readers exude. I’ve learned and gained so much, and now I want to put them into practice.

Feel free to choose one or more piles from this bunch. Some details may not resonate with you as this is a general reading. Nothing is set in stone, so please don’t take it too seriously.

Most importantly, enjoy! ✨

Pile 1 (6 of Pentacles, Obsidian)

Cards: The Hermit, Ace of Swords

You have taken a step back to reevaluate a situation. It felt like a breakthrough at first. While it was exciting and you felt like things were starting to finally pick up, it left you with an erratic mind rather than the peace it seemed to promise you.

You may have been swayed by the words of a crowd and have given it little thought in relation to your personal wants or goals in the first place. Because of that, certain blockages may have been brought to your attention. You may have started having unwelcome thoughts about yourself, or started talking to yourself rather sharply.

Please don’t keep these thoughts to yourself. I see that there are compassionate energies around you who want to help, and are ready to help. “Don’t be afraid to ask, friend.” I also see that you will feel some gratification along the way. Someone could be receiving a gift, something material or related to income. Just keep in mind that the scales are balanced whenever you’re in a give-and-take dynamic.

Pile 2 (Ace of Pentacles, Amethyst)

Cards: 8 of Wands, 7 of Swords

There is a surge of energy here. I see that you’re highly motivated by something that could be work-related or something highly motivating to you. The fact that you’re focused and don’t want to waste opportunities is great; however, it’s tittering towards recklessness.

You see the two cards at the bottom, how the Wands and Swords point downwards towards each other in what could look like a collision? This motivation of yours that I mentioned seemed to be fuelled by the desire to escape something. You’re tired of letting things stand in the way of your goals. But, in the process of strategising, you end up avoiding responsibilities that could even be out of character for you.

You need to ground yourself first, friend. You chose the Ace of Pentacles, a surefire sign that prosperity is on its way to you. But, it will come gradually. It needs a strong foundation, and some patience from you. Be assured that you’ll even think it’s too good to be true when you get there (but it’s not, it’s really yours!) Take it easy for the meantime and try to calm your mind in times of pressure.

Pile 3 (2 of Pentacles, Rose Quartz)

Cards: 9 of Wands, 2 of Swords

First of all, right after I laid down the cards and saw the images, I felt like giving you a hug. You’ve been surrounded by adversity for so long, yet look at you: standing your ground even at the brink of exhaustion. You often feel like you’re in the dark, often asked to make choices you can’t be sure of because it all feels like a big stalemate.

I’m here to tell you that you’re almost there. You may be in denial of your strength, but it’s clear from the cards that some things are hidden from you, like you’re not meant to know about them yet. You’ve always been strong, friend. Right now you seem to be in a period of reflection, trying to heal yourself, and having some difficulty accessing your emotions from having to be rational all the time.

There are two 2s here, which is all about balance. Please take care not to stretch yourself too thin. The message here is not about setting aside the mind nor the heart, but about holding one and the other in each of your hands. Easier said than done, yes, but I assure you that it is possible. Be gentle with both of these aspects of yourself, for together they have the best interest in letting you carry on with life, as usual, despite the chaos.

Pile 4 (The Tower Rx, Citrine)

Cards: Page of Pentacles Rx, 7 of Pentacles

As seen with the Pentacles card on the bottom left, you found yourself in a position that seemed quite upside down from the favourable one you envisioned to be in. You have it all: the potential, the skills, and the outlook– only to be set back by the roadblocks of distraction and perfectionism. You may have viewed this situation with quite an unrealistic lens then. I’m getting instant gratification vibes.

But now, you have come to understand that achieving the things that are worthwhile entail long-term time and effort. Yes, you’ve always known the concept, but to actually experience it is different. A lot of times it can feel like watching paint dry. I see you taking breaks to admire your progress. It seems to be a hands-on kind of investment. 

You also seem quite fixated on the destination. It’s great to stay committed, friend, but take care not to get too attached to the results. Your message seems to be a lot about the process and learning to roll with it, even if you may not like the changes happening, especially if they are unexpected. 

Make the necessary adjustments and be careful not to make the same mistakes from the past. Take care of your health and don't ignore signals from your body. You’re creative, with lots of potential, but don’t shake things up just yet. This abundance is likely to come to you when you’re taking it slow and steady. You’ve already dodged the worst, don’t worry.

Pile 5 (The Devil, Sodalite)

Cards: The Lovers, Page of Wands

Oof! Yeah, okay. The energy of two Major Arcanas that are counterparts, plus a Wands card, just really made me react that way. 

It’s plain to see that this is about a kindred-spirits, soulmate level relationship (it can either be romantic or platonic). The kind that is so defined by how you’ve chosen to expose yourself and be continuously open, honest, and vulnerable within it. It means so much to you; it feels overpowering from here, actually. If it’s not a relationship with another person, it could be something you consider a passion that is very close to your heart.

It’s like you’ve literally given anything and everything in this. Drop-everything, at-their-beck-and-call energy. Taking the lead. Not gonna lie, you’ve gotten quite creative about it, but my friend, it looks like you’re getting carried away. You see, the Page is looking away from The Lovers. Yes, the Page is a whirlwind but can neglect to plant his feet on the ground. Are you both on the same level?

The presence of sodalite tells me your intuition has already been trying to bring this up to your attention. Following your heart should not feel like you have no control. Even passion needs space for logic. Think of yourself, my beautiful being, and trust me that there is more outside this addictive feeling you often wish would never end. Getting more information about it, clearing things up, seeing eye-to-eye, heart-to-heart, will set you free from these subconscious chains.

===

That is all I have for this magical 11-11 day! I hope this delivered some form of help, warmth, comfort to those who have felt called to it. Feel free to let me know how you found it, if it resonated or not, etc. Details and feedback help us improve, after all.

Have a splendid week ahead of you! ✨✨✨

[reginakhoward]

Ex-Wives Solos:

I feel like we don’t talk enough about how the little solos each queen has sets up the sexist stereotype they are shoved into by society and then how they are broken down in their song.

“If you try to dump me, you won’t try that again” For Catherine of Aragon, it’s the petty, angry ex-wife. It reminds me of a crazy ex-girlfriend trope where the ex is basically painted as evil for trying to get revenge on her poor, nice guy ex. Then, in No Way, “Please tell me what you think I’ve done wrong... You’ve got nothing to say” totally flips the script, the audience realizes that it’s Henry that is the crazy one, trying to find all these ways to get rid of her be it sending her to a nunnery or saying she’s cursed with infertility. No Way shows us that Aragon not only has a right to be angry, but also that she has been biting her tongue this whole time to what Henry has been doing to her, in a show of restraint and strength.

“Why did I lose my head? Well, my sleeves may be green, but my lipstick’s red” makes it seem like Boleyn is using her sexuality as a weapon. Anne has been characterized this way in much of history, she is the classic “Other Woman”, the whore with “the plan to steal the man”. In DLUH, we see a different side of Anne, one where she seems a lot less calculating, more helpless and clueless. Superficially, this throws her into yet another stereotype, of the “Dumb Blonde”, so to speak. Looking deeper into the lyrics, however, a lot more is revealed. The people making many of the decisions are the men in her life. Her father tells her to get ahead. Henry pursues the relationship, breaks things off with the church, and cheats on her. Anne is subject to the environment she has been thrown into, reacting to things instead of acting a lot of the time. She “didn’t mean to hurt anyone” (although she does make many decisions that do hurt people), but pays the price of Henry’s insanity.

“Jane Seymour, the only one he truly loved” would make Seymour the “Perfect Wife”. She’s doting, she’s dutiful, in the picture perfect relationship. She has the perfect husband, she has the heir to the throne, even in death, she has the queen’s funeral (the only one out of six to receive it), and buried beside her love once he passes. However, in Heart of Stone, we see that not everything was as easy as it seemed. “You can tear me down”, “I’ll stand the test”, and the other descriptions of turmoil show that Henry was not as good to her as we’d like to believe. Although perhaps, in his own fucked up way, he did love her, he did not treat her well. Many like to say that Seymour was not abused and shouldn’t win the “competition” because she didn’t have to deal with much from him, but reading between the lines shows that she dealt with his abuses in silence. She was not weak, but she wanted so desperately to make it with him and Edward, that she stuck it through until her untimely end.

“But I didn’t look as good as I did in my pic” implies that Anna of Cleves A. believes that and B. accepts it, which is a stark contrasting point in Get Down. From the beginning of Get Down she paints the picture that while, yes, what happened to her is awful, she did not lie down and accept what Henry decided was to happen for her. She used what happened and made her life amazing, far more wonderful than it would’ve been if Henry was still involved in her life. Although historically this could be far from the truth, Six Cleves is one bad bitch flipping that rejection and making it a victory.

“Lock up your husbands, lock up your son, KHoward is here and the fun’s begun” is one of the most apparent flips once we get to AYWD. It’s carried through the song, as at first Katherine is “wanting” (don’t get me started on the statutory rape here) her encounters, but then we quickly learn the truth. She leads us to believe, like Henry believed, that she was a promiscuous woman not worthy of the throne, until we realize she was only a girl who was taken advantage of. Her stereotype is a very well-known and believed one as much as Anne Boleyn’s, so it’s refreshing and heartening to see the musical portray it in a different way for the KHoward character, and I’m so glad they did it this way.

“I’m the final wife…. I’m the survivor” For Catherine Parr, all she mentions in her intro is that she was the final wife, the one who survived, and other things to do with her being Henry’s 6th wife, or one of the Six. When we get to IDNYL, we are introduced to Catherine as a person, the things she did, the people she affected, outside of Henry. We are shown HER real story, not reliant on anyone else. Parr sets us up to believe that she was merely one of Six in order to make the reveal of her breaking off/having agency even more impactful. She went from one dimensional to 3D this way, which I think was a really cool way to segway into giving all the queens agency in the last part of the show.

Overall, I think it’s a really cool device that was used through the show, because of how rooted it is in our perceptions. Most people have a preconceived notion of these queens from their real lives and our understandings (or lack thereof) of what happened to them. For Six to break those really emphasizes how they are telling their own stories, “taking back the microphone”, and freeing themselves from abuse, which is always a story the world needs to hear. 💕

[goldengoddess]

you’re my home - kaz brekker

pairing: kaz brekker x heartrenderi!reader

request: hi!can i request a kaz brekker x reader where they were childhood friends but she had to leave because she was a grisha, and later at the fete they see each other again and she ends up helping the crows?thank you!!have a great day!

a/n: hey i hope this is what you like! i based it more off the show and just switched things around,,,, this is absolutely cheesy and i hate it and i didn’t know how to end it pls forgive me omg

warnings: normal heist stuff, like one curse word?

kaz brekker had changed since the last time you saw him. 

to start, he was taller. he’d grown at least two feet. he’d also grown into himself, he didn’t look like the lanky boy that you had once pulled out of the garbage can that one time. and he had a noticeable limp, something that he hadn’t had when the two of you had last talked. his clothes were different too, he was wearing a little palace guards uniform. 

but you knew who he was anyways. 

his voice was the same, the same comforting sound that invaded your dreams on a good night and had you screaming on a bad night. when you heard him whispering you whipped your head around in panic. he was leaning down talking to suli girl in hushed and angry tones. 

when had he become a palace guard? you wondered to yourself, how hadn’t you noticed before? why was he in ravka of all places?

a silly thought came into your head, was he looking for you?

but you pushed the thought away, moving close enough to listen but not to get caught. 

“take your position” you heard him say to the girl, also in guards uniform.

she moved away silently, too silently. 

kaz straightened himself and surely enough turned his head in your direction.

his eyes were also the same. they were the same color the same look. but they were hardened and cold. the eyes of a boy who had done everything too survive. even the things that he didn’t want to do. 

his face was shocked for only a fraction of a second before he regained his composure and faced the rest of the room. standing straight and poised like any of the other palace guards.

had he not recognized you? no, that couldn’t be it. the two of you had grown up together, yes you had changed but not enough that he wouldn’t know who you were. maybe he resented you. for leaving. for being grisha. for having been taken away and saved from the streets of ketterdam unlike him. 

you remembered the day they had taken you away.

you and kaz were huddled in the corner of the room away from the rest of the kids your age. 

the two of you were been inseparable. stuck together like glue, everyone said.

both of you worked the shitty jobs in the barrel. the ones no one else wanted to do. you ran around the streets delivering packages and messages. you would clean up anything that needed cleaning. the two of you were survivors.

kaz never talked about his brother or how he’d ended up working the streets like this, but you knew, even then as a little kid, you were all he had. 

but nothing good ever lasted for little kaz brekker.

when the grisha examiners landed in the harbor of the city, all of the children running around making trouble on the street were forced to get tested.

you and kaz weren’t any different. 

you tried to hold onto him as the adults gripped to your arm, testing your for abilities in the small science. when they determined that you were grisha, and promised you a wonderful life at the little palace, they had to rip you from kaz’s arms.

the both of you were wailing and protesting, saying that you wouldn't go anywhere without the other. but eventually the fight left you and you let them drag you away from your only family to a country you didn’t know 

you snapped back to the reality of the party going on around you. kaz still looked stoic and unphased a few feet away from you, as if your presence didn’t affect him at all. 

but his presence affected you tremendously. 

you had whined and cried when you first made it to the palace but you had loved your life here. being surrounded by other grisha, other heartrenderers. people who could do the same things as you. understood the need to use your powers. and you couldn’t deny how comforting it had been to settle into a life where you didn’t have to worry about whether you could make enough money to eat. 

you thought of kaz all the time. you thought of everything you had left behind but the only thing that had really mattered to you in that horrible place was kaz. you wondered what had become of the young boy you knew in the years since you had seen him.

just as you were about to make a move to talk to him, two squallers were storming in the direction of kaz and the silent girl he had been talking too before. 

the two of them shared a look and started walking in opposite directions. kaz walked past you, sparing you the fastest look ever. a look no one else would have even noticed. but you did because kaz brekker, your child hood best friend was finally in front of you. 

the hurried and suspicious steps of your fellow grisha, set off an alarm in your head. even when the two fo you were little, kaz was good at getting out of sticky situations. he has a gift for scheming and the sleight of hand.

he was here on a job, you concluded.

you waited a few seconds and then snuck away, following kaz out of the room where the main events of the fete were taking place. 

you walked in just in time to see the inferni make a move to attack kaz. you raised your arms and the grisha dropped like a stone. kaz turned around in a fighting stance and froze when he saw you. he kept his hands in fists, as if he was waiting for you to attack him too. 

you dropped you hands, “what are you doing here kaz?”

he dropped his hands as well but you could tell he was still on guard and looking for a way to leave the room.

"i don't have to explain myself to you” he all but growled at you.

you stepped away from him, like his words had physically wounded you.

he seemed to regret the words and took a couple of steps closer to you. 

“i’m here on a job and i really need to go find my team so if you’ll excuse me” he tried to move to the door that was behind you. 

“let me help” you said, almost desperate. he had just come back into your life, and yes it seemed like he resented you but you couldn’t let him go just yet. 

he looked at you skeptically but nodded his head, “i need to get to the courtyards with the carriages. can you take me there.”

you nodded and started leading the way. you turned through many different hallways, moving up and downstairs. every now and then you held up a hand for kaz to stop, as you listened for a heartbeat nearby. 

“you’re good at that” he mumbled, gesturing towards your heartrender movements. 

you nodded your head, a shy smile. “yeah i’ve had a lot of practice here.”

his face turned gloomy at that and you realized you had said the wrong thing. “yeah. i know” he said curtly. 

you stopped for a minute, turning to look at kaz in the dimly lit hallway.

“i’m sorry i left okay? i know it hurt you, i can only imagine how much it must have sucked. it was horrible here at first, i missed you every day. but i will not apologize for enjoying myself here and taking advantage of what i was taught. i like it here. i have friends, and a life, and im good at what i do and i will not allow you to make me feel bad about that.” you said all in one breath.

kaz didn’t say anything, choosing to look down at the floor instead of you. 

you sighed and took a step closer to him, you noticed he still wore the black gloves similar to the first pair that you had stolen for him when you two were younger.

“kaz,” you said, your voice shaking, “i missed you so much. i still miss you and you’re standing right in front of me. i get why you hate me but i really don’t want you to. so that’s why i’m helping you, that’s why i’m going to get you out of here without getting caught.” 

you turned on your heel, prepared to continue to lead him away. but before you could get away he grabbed your hand and spun you back around. 

he flinched at his own action and let go.

“i don’t hate you y/n. i get why you enjoyed yourself here, this over a life of petty and dangerous crime? of course this is the better opportunity but that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt when you left.”

you bit your lip and nodded your head in understanding. 

he looked directly into your eyes, “i knew you would be here but i thought, hey what are the chances of actually running into you. having to see you happy and having to live with the fact that i never came to look for you.”

you took a step closer to him, “kaz i don’t blame you for not coming to get me, i wouldn’t have wanted you to anyway.”

he looked at you and for the first time he looked desperate. kaz brekker was never desperate. and if he was, he didn’t show it.

“come home with us” he said.

you raised your eye brows in surprise.

“come home with me” he corrected, looking at the wall to avoid your eyes

it was the same voice he had used all those years ago, when he was begging for you to stay. he wanted to you stay with him. to come home. to go back to the place that had broke kaz and would probably have broken you.

but it was kaz.

but ketterdam wasn’t your home anymore.

kaz had been your home, but was he still?

the two of you stayed silent. there was still so much the two of you needed to say. how you had probably loved him as a kid. how you probably loved him now. how you regretted never writing, never trying. how you missed ketterdam. how this place would be perfect if kaz was here with you. but there wasn’t enough time or courage to say those things.

so instead, you raised your arms in your fighting grisha stance and smiled at him.

“how about we get you out of here first and then we can decide is i become a fugitive of ravka to go play crime boss in ketterdam?” you teased.

he almost gave you a grin and you continued walking, a new found peace settled between the two of you.

kaz brekker in the little palace, who should have thought.

[miekasa]

daylight’s wasting (you better kiss me)

↯ pairing: eren jaeger x reader

↯ genre and warnings: college au, fluff, someone please be gentle with this boy i’m begging you, jean and eren pretending they don’t give a fuck about each other whilst actually being best bros for the win

↯ word count: 2k

↯ summary: based off of that reddit post about some guy talking about his girlfriend washing his hair for the first time + hoping it fills a request for someone asking for reader playing with eren’s hair for the first time :’)

↯ notes: this is cross-posted and edited slightly from another blog in a completely separate fandom, so if you’ve seen it before, no you didn’t </2

Jean can’t say that he immediately noticed a pep in Eren’s step when the green-eyed boy met him in the library, but what he does notice is the stupid, dopey looking grin and starry-eyed gaze in his eyes that he’s sporting while he’s not doing his part for their project. And while Jean considers himself relatively attractive, he knows for sure Eren isn’t shy about making it known that he doesn’t; so the brunette doubts the literal heart eyes Eren has are for him.

“Eren? Eren, bro, are you good?” Jean calls, a dark eyebrow raised above his left eye. Eren barely registers the calls of his name, and it takes Jean waving his hands in front of the shorter’s face for him to wake from his trance, looking up at Jean with that same, longing smile (that’s, admittedly, starting to creep him the fuck out).

“Yeah,” Eren sighs, something reminiscent of a lovelorn cartoon prince, as he rests his elbow atop his notebook and his chin the palm of his hand, “I’m good.”

Jean looks at him, skeptical and confused. He shifts in his seat, but Eren’s eyes don’t follow—he just stares ahead, lost in thought and completely unaware of everything around him. He looks like a lovesick little bitch if you ask Jean. Or completely sloshed.

Slowly, Jean leads forward, eyebrows pinched, looking for streaks of red in Eren’s eyes, “Are you stoned right now?”

“What?” Eren pulls back, almost offended, “No, I’m not high—Jean, what the fuck?”

Jean simply shrugs, leaning back into his seat, “I dunno. Yesterday you were so stressed about your acrobatic salt cycle samples—”

“—Acetylsalicylic acid. It’s basically Asprin, and I wasn’t stressed, they just weren’t crystallizing the they way they’re supposed to—”

“I don’t fucking care. But now you look mellow as hell,” Jean cuts him off, “Just thought maybe you rolled a good one before coming here or something. Not that I’m judging, of course. But you’re much more of a lightweight than you think, so try not to go—”

“‘M not a fucking lightweight,” Eren groans, “You and Reiner are just heavy bodied.”

“Just admit you can’t hold your shit, Jaeger.”

“I’m not admitting shit. Mikasa makes strong drinks, that’s all.”

Jean grits his teeth at Eren’s stubborn antics, but lets it go. It’s not like the conversation was going anywhere, anyways. “If you’re not baked, then what’s got your head in the clouds?”

Eren shifts in his seat now, pulling his hand off the table, and into his lap. Jean’s suspicious eyebrow is quirked again, and that slightly creeped-out feeling is back when he spots Eren’s ears going red.

Jesus Christ, he just asked a simple question.

“Not that I care,” Jean tacks on, feigning disinterest, “But if it’s gonna keep you from doing your half of the project, just spill it already so we can get this shit over with.”

Eren rolls his eyes, but that blush is still there. He looks like he contemplates waving it off for a minute, before he sighs. “(Y/N) and I showered together yesterday,” he finally blurts.

Jean blinks. “Oh. So you got laid—”

“—No, no, it wasn’t like that!” Eren corrects him, the red on his ears spreading to his cheeks slowly, with every word that spills out of his mouth. Eren stutters, a hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck, “She just… She washed my hair.”

Eren sighs, flustered and frustrated, and annoyed that he looks like this in front of Jean’s horse-faced ass of all people; but he knows, that no matter how much shit Jean talks, he can rely on him. For better or (often times) for worse.

And Jean, for as hotheaded as he can get, and for as much as Eren annoys the shit of out him, knows how to read a room; and in this moment, he can see that Eren is actually coming to him with genuine emotions, other than masked anger and abrasiveness. So, the both of them concede; pull back from their usual pointed commentary, and listen to what the other has to say. 

“Ah,” Jean comments, lamely; an embarrassed blush of his own growing on his face at his stupidity. The two sit in silence for a moment, before Jean speaks up again, “It’s, uh… It’s nice, right?”

Eren’s eyes snap to him, wide. He almost completely forgot that Jean’s in a committed relationship, too. The two don’t often go to each other for relationship advice, or… relationship venting, but Eren makes a mental note that maybe, just maybe, he should.  

“Yeah,” Eren admits, “I don’t, uh, I don’t know how to explain it. It was just—”

“Relaxing?”

“Yeah. Like all the bullshit from school just melted away all of a sudden,” Eren confesses, “All she fucking did was wash my hair and hum for, like, five minutes, but I feel like… I don’t know. Good.”

Jean hums, acknowledging Eren’s words and mulling them over. “Loved,” he chimes in with an awkward cough, “Pretty sure that’s the word you’re looking for, Jaeger.”

Eren chokes on air, his eyes darting around the room. So, yeah, it’s still a little awkward, talking with Jean of all people about his relationship, and love, and all that gushy stuff; but, even Eren can admit, it’s comforting to know that someone knows what he’s feeling—even if that someone is Jean.

“You should tell her. Girls like that shit, when you tell em what you’re thinking, you know?” Jean comments, picking up his pen to resume scribbling in his notebook. He sounds nonchalant, but from the redness on his face, Eren can tell he’s just as flustered, and probably thinking about his own girlfriend. “Besides, you’ve been together for a long ass time now. Don’t know what you’re waiting for at this point.”

“Yeah,” Eren coughs, pretending to resume his own homework, “Yeah, I think I will.”

“Good,” Jean nods, “Now will you fucking paste your paragraph in the Google Doc so I can rewrite it and make it coherent.”

“Fuck you, it’s coherent as is.”

“As if. I’ve read your shit before, and it sounds like it was written by six year old on meth. You science majors can’t write to save your life.”

“Tough talk from someone who can’t do basic addition.”

“Derivatives and shit aren’t basic addition, they were created by a man who died a virgin. Tells me everything I need to know about them and you.”

Three days later, Eren finds himself alone in your off-campus apartment, laying on your bed, stomach to the mattress, while he tries to convince himself to study for his upcoming biology exam. He finds looking around your room to be much more interesting, though, and takes the time to notice things he hadn’t before.

There’s a small strip of images of the two of your in a clear mason jar on your nightstand—the newest addition to your collection—from the photo booth at the ice-skating rink you went to last week. Eren doesn’t know why you insist on going to every photo booth you come across, but who is he to deny you the pictures.

When he looks to your closet, he isn’t surprised to see two of his hoodies, one of his warm-up soccer uniforms, and last season’s hockey jersey hanging up. What does surprise him, is the way they’re all hung up next to each other, like they have their own little section amongst your clothing; like they were reserved, special almost. He bets they’re all probably washed and clean, too; because you take care of his things like that.

He thinks about how he has a few pairs of sweatpants and pajamas—hell, even a pair of slacks and a button-down from one of your fancier dates—all tucked away in his very own drawer in your dresser. The bucket hats thats you claim are oh-so ugly still have their own place in your room, hanging next to your belts. Even his psychology textbook sits on your desk, clearly set aside for him and taken care of, but still integrated amongst your other belongings. 

You seem to be the only person who thinks Eren and all his baggage can have a place in your life. You seem to always have space for things to fit in, no matter how stupid, or ugly, or tattered they are; no matter how emotional, or lost, or impulsive he is. Nothing is out of place here, himself included. 

Lost in his thoughts, Eren doesn’t register the sound of your front door opening, or your footsteps growing louder. In fact, he doesn’t register that you’re home at all, until you come padding into your bedroom, shaking your backpack off of your shoulders and setting it next to his on the ground.

“Hey, baby,” you greet him, almost offhandedly, as you place your coffee down on your desk. He doesn’t mind—actually the element of practiced casualness in your tone brings a kind of warmth to him, and makes his stomach flutter. 

“Hey,” he smiles, a stupidly fond look in his eye as his watched you shimmy your jacket off of your shoulders. 

Eren sits himself upwards, shifting so that his long legs dangle off the edge of your bed as he watching your silhouette move throughout your bedroom. When you’re finished removing all your layers and jewelry, you finally look to him, greeting him a second time as you walk towards him and your bed.

Eren cages you in when you reach him, his ankles wrapped on top of each other as he secures you standing between his legs. He wraps his arms loosely around your waist, while your fingers crawl up the nape of his neck.

“Your hair’s dry,” you hum, your fingers raking through his brown locks as if to make your point, “You didn’t shower yet?”

Eren shakes his head lightly, craning his neck forwards to tuck the cold tip of his nose into your collar. He holds you a little tighter when you smooth his hair down, one of your hands resting against the back of his neck, and lightly scraping at the hairs near his nape.

“How come?” you question innocently, “I thought your classes ended a few hours ago—did your lab go late again? You should tell your TA you have a life outside of trying to culture bacteria in a dish, you know.”

Eren chuckles lightly, but feels the concern in your voice tug heavily at his heart strings. You seem to really hate his lab TA.

“Wasn’t him this time,” Eren mumbles against your skin, “Was waiting for you.”

“Yeah? That gonna be a regular thing, now?”

“Wouldn’t mind,” Eren confesses, words barely audible as he buries his face into your neck. He tries tickle you with his eyelashes, shift the heat towards you, but you move out of reach too quickly; your hands on his shoulders, forcing him to sit upright.

He has to look up you, just slightly, and he hopes he doesn’t look like a complete blushing idiot. If he does, you don’t seem to mind, if the way you cup his face between your hands is any indication.

“Well then, come on. I bought two new loofahs yesterday.”

Eren follows you to the bathroom with a smile, borderline giggling with excitement all the way to the shower. When it comes down to it, he relishes in the feeling of your fingertips against his scalp, suds of shampoo cascading down his neck as you find amusement in coiling his hair into a bubbly mohawk.

It’s so mundane, so simple, yet overwhelmingly intimate the way you’re taking care of him—the way you always take care of him. It fills Eren to the brim with emotions he can’t even begin to convey with words.

And when you’ve had you’re fun, and made sure his hair is throughly clean and smells like apples, you take your body wash on the ball of his (his! his very own!) loofah, and scrub away at his back, down his shoulders, across his torso; and Eren can’t stop the tears from falling.

He realizes his must look bizzare, to be standing the middle of your shower, crying like a baby with soap and suds all over his body, but he can’t help himself.

“Eren? Baby, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing,” he assures you, hiccuping between his words and sniffling away any more tears that threaten to fall. You don’t seem convinced, and once again, Eren feels his heart swell at just the sheer thought at you’d hold even an ounce of concern for him the way you do.

“You’re crying, Eren,” you point out, voice soft, but clearly concerned, as you reach your hands up to cup his face again, “Did I hurt you? What’s wr—”

Eren cuts you off by wrapping you in a hug, hoping—praying—you know that you could never hurt him. The two of you spend nearly five whole minutes like that, your arms wrapped around each other’s middles, with warm water pouring over your naked skin. Eren can feel you pressing shallow kisses into his chest, and he feels his heart physically swell every time your lips make contact with his skin.

It’s on the fifth, quiet press of your lips that Eren knows he can’t hold it in anymore; pulls away from your embrace to look you in your eyes.

“I love you,” he finally confesses, with wet hair stuck to his forehead, and teary eyes. It’s hardly a picture perfect moment, but Eren can’t bring himself to care; he needs you to know.

But, of course, you already did. “I know, Eren,” you say with a smile, kissing his chin, and then on the tips of your toes, his lips, “And I love you more.”

[separatist-apologist]

Lucien Vanserra + The Villain Theory & Why the Mating Bond Is Not Fake

I've been thinking about this for a while and I've decided I want to debunk this because of all the *insert character that is definitely not the villain becoming a secret villain*, Lucien is most definitely not it.

The theory, according to tiktok, is that Lucien is a secret schemer who has tricked everyone, including Elain, into believing they are mates for undefined, suspicious reasons likely related to Koschei. I find this unlikely considering his "father" is ALSO scheming with Koschei and Lucien likely has some awareness of this considering how often Eris is suddenly hanging around.

This is so long. Everything is under the cut.

However, lets pretend he doesn't. There is consistent, contextual proof that Lucien a) could not make up a mating bond even if he wanted to and b) everyone would know if he had.

Starting in ACOTAR, Tamlin tells Feyre the story of Lucien. On page 160, Tamlin says:

"Lucien said he didn't care she wasn't one of the High Fae, that he was certain the mating bond would snap soon and that he was going to marry her and leave his father's court to his scheming brothers."

Followed up on page 161, Tamlin adds:

"...his father has never apologized and his brothers are too frightened of me to risk harming him. But he has never forgotten what they did to her...even if he pretends he has."

That's ACOTAR. I know SJM likes to change things on a whim, but foundationally, this is Lucien's character and across all five books, it never changes. Lucien is still haunted by Jesminda and the mating bond he lost. He firmly believes, if we believe Tamlin to be a reliable narrator (and we should, as Lucien backs Tamlin's opinion up in his private thoughts. It is also worth noting that if Lucien has a villain origin story, it begins right here, the moment his father beheads Jesminda. To assume he's the villain, we ought to believe that he's been scheming non-stop for at least 200 years (since he's like, 300ish?) and to what end? To kill Beron? He'd have been scheming far longer than Elain was alive.

Moving right along to ACOMAF, on page 619, Amren says:

"And the bond," Amren breathed, Cassian's blood shining on her hands as she slowed its dribbling.

Mor said, "She asked the king to break the bond. He obliged."

I thought I might be dying- thought my chest might actually be cleaved in two.

"Thats impossible," Amren said. "That sort of bond cannot be broken."

"The kind said he could do it."

"The king is a fool," Amren barked. "That sort of bond cannot be broken."

"No, it can't," I said.

This is from Rhys' perspective. A mating bond can't be broken with magic- it's forever. Even rejected or in death (we'll get there), the mating bond is for life. Assuming Lucien's mate was Jesminda, even if it hadn't snapped in death, she would STILL be his mate and death would not have changed that. Neither would any magic Lucien, a spell-cleaver, might possess.

Let's also consider Elain, who has no reason to lie and every reason to call Lucien out regarding the bond. In ACOMAF, page 608, we see this:

"...Elain was staring over Nesta's shoulder. At Lucien-whose face she had finally taken in. Dark brown eyes met one of russet and one of metal. Nesta was still weeping, still raging, still inspecting Elain-

Lucien's hands slackened at his sides. His voice broke as he whispered to Elain, "You're my mate."

It's Elain who sees him first, who feels the mating bond mere seconds before Lucien. Why choose Elain, if you're going to pick a fake mate for your scheme? The argument is generally that she has the least amount of knowledge about Faeries and no interest in that education but how would Lucien know that? Feyre told Lucien nothing about her sisters (she told Ianthe instead), which means he would have had to guess. Given that Elain fights being put in the Cauldron, there's nothing contextually in that moment that suggests that Lucien somehow knew she was the easier sister to fool.

It's also worth noting that Lucien, up until that moment, still genuinely believes Jesminda was his mate. If he's the villain, having a fake mate makes no sense to the story or his plans.

Feyre has been inside Lucien's mind twice. Once in ACOMAF (pg. 95):

"Thoughts slammed into me, images and memories, a pattern of thinking and feeling that was old, and clever, and sad, so endlessly sad and guilt-ridden, hopeless-"

And again in ACOWAR when Lucien meets Elain for the first time. On page 249, we get the best description of what Lucien is feeling regarding the mating bond, all through Feyre's perspective:

"Too thin. She must not be eating at all. How can she even stand?

The thoughts flowed through his head, one after another. His heart was a raging, thunderous beat, and he didn't dare move from his position a mere five feet away. She hadn't yet turned toward him, but the ravages of her fasting were evident enough.

Touch her, smell her, taste her-

The instincts were running a river. he fisted his hands at his sides."

"But there she was. His mate. She was nothing like Jesminda."

"Elain had been...thrown at him."

"That circle of people who now claimed to be Feyre's new family...It was what, long ago, he'd once thought life at Tamlin's court would be. An ache like a blow to the chest went through him, but he crossed the rug."

"But he couldn't breathe as she faced him fully. She was the most beautiful female he'd ever seen. Betrayal, queasy and oily, slid through his veins. He'd said the same to Jesminda once. But even as shame washed through him, the words, the senses chanted, Mine. You are mine, and I am yours."

"She looked away- towards the windows. 'I can hear your heart,' she said quietly. He wasn't sure how to respond, so he said nothing and drained his tea even as it burned his mouth.

'When I sleep,' she murmured, 'I can hear your heart beating through the stone.' She angled her head, as if the city view held some answer. 'Can you hear mine?'

He wasn't sure if she truly meant to address him, but he said, 'No, lady. I cannot.'"

These are Lucien's thoughts from Feyre's perspective. He has no idea she's in his head, so why is he thinking all those things? Why feel guilt that he finds her beautiful or that he'd once said all the same things to Jesminda that he thinks about Elain? Why care about her well-being? We know mates are driven to protect and Lucien's very first thoughts about Elain are ones of concern. She's not eating, she's too thin, how can she possibly stand? Not, hahaah my evil planned worked and I totally have an in with the Night Court (which, why would he need considering Tamlin is currently allied with Hybern and Lucien could have taken full advantage of that?).

Additionally, assuming Lucien is faking the mating bond for some poorly defined, evil plot, why keep such distance? Why not force himself on her? That's the claim, right? That he's forcing her to be with him which is amusing because in ACOFAS, Lucien has some thoughts on page 162"

"'How is she?'

'Better. She makes no mention of her abilities. If they remain.'

'Good. But is she still...' A muscle flickered in his jaw. 'Does she still mourn him?'"

First question he asks. "How is she?" Followed by if she's still in love with her ex-fiance. And I can hear the screaming now, "HE ASKED BECAUSE HE WANTS TO OWN HER" but like, on page 165 of ACOFAS, we get:

"I can't stand to be in the same room as her for more than two minutes."

Truly a stupid plan to fake a mating bond with a person that is causing you to be eaten alive with guilt and longing. We know the second he's around her, Lucien's is overwhelmed with the mating instincts and feels guilt over Jesminda, which is why he spends little time around Elain. He also tells Feyre, on that same page, he doesn't want his life to be financed by Rhysand. Feyre practically begs Lucien to move back to Velaris, to work for her full time, to let her set him up somewhere nicer and Lucien declines it all. If his plan hinged on getting closer to the IC, to using Rhys' resources, why tell her no? Why not take her up on it? Why not make him part of her life in a much more tangible way?

And finally, the dreaded scent of the mating bond. Feyre doesn't risk talking to Rhys when she's in Spring for fear of alerting everyone to the scent of the bond. Azriel, too, cannot stand the smell of it to the point he stands in the doorway during solstice rather than come in.

Ladies, Gentleman, and Non-binary pals of the jury, examine the evidence. For Lucien to be a villain, he has to KNOW that Feyre is a daemati before she does and both leave his thoughts unguarded while constantly assuming she MIGHT be picking through them. He also has to be able to control large amounts of people at the same time via the smell of the bond and Elain being able to feel it. When he tugs, she responds.

It would require everyone around them to be incredibly dumb. Feyre and Rhys basically share a mind and while they don't necessarily trust Lucien (unfairly imo), I firmly believe one of them would have picked up on a fake bond or Lucien's scheming.

Lucien wanted Jesminda, not Elain. If he decided to punish the world around him for the consistent pain he was enduring, he doesn't need Elain to achieve this. He's friends with Feyre. He has contacts all over Prythian. He didn't need to fake a mating bond, nor does it make any sense to do so. What they have is REAL.

And lastly, the bond can't be broken. Rejected, yes, broken no. Regardless if you think they'll keep it or not, they ARE mates and Lucien is NOT the villain who will be heroically slaughtered. They're awkward, they're uncomfortable, they have shit to work out but they ARE mates, and Lucien has proven over and over that all he wants is a home and goddamn peace and quiet.

[clickbait-official]

A Perfect World

🕰 anon i would like to formally apologize

herobrine x reader

masterlist

/ - / pt 2 / pt. 3 / pt. 4 / pt. 5 / pt. 6 ~~~

In a perfect world, we could be happy together.

I woke up at the start of a stone path, the dirt matted onto my skin from the apparent fall I'd taken.

Sitting up, I groan, clutching my head. It must’ve been one hell of a fall, even if I couldn’t remember it.

Slowly I stand up, and feebly make my way into a nearby village.

I walk up a set of spruce stairs, and knock on the door.

A villager opens it, green eyes peering into my own. They wear a green shirt that nearly matches their eyes, and have what looks like a brown vest draped over it.

“Hello. Who are you?” They ask, and after taking in my state, they gasp.

”Oh! Come in, come in! I’ll go run for Miss Ellie!”

The villager pulls me inside before running off.

There’s a chair pushed against a dining room table. I sit down in the chair, and put my head against the wood.

And carefully, slowly, I shut my eyes.

~~~

Opening my eyes feels so tiring.

“It’s up to them now. I’ve done all I can. Call me if it looks like they might get worse. Though I admit I’m not sure what to do. It’s been so long since a Player came about, you know. And-“ The woman cuts herself off, noticing that I am awake.

“Oh, hello. We were just talking about you. What’s your name, Player?Just something we can call you.” The woman asks, who I can only assume is the Miss Ellie the kind villager was talking about.

”My…name? I- Where-“ I look around, wanting a name for where I am. “Where am I?”

“Well,” Says Miss Ellie, looking towards the villager from before. “Right now you’re in Charlie Nyewhy’s house, and this village is the village of Ebelence. Do you remember anything from before you got here?”

I pause to think, yet come up with nothing.

“So you only remember your name and nothing else? Hmm…” Miss Ellie trails off, thinking before speaking again. ”We ought to take you to the Traveler. Perhaps he will know something.”

“But first,” Charlie says, “We should take you over to Mrs. and Mr. Swordsroe. And swing by the Bakers’ too!”

I sit up, albeit slowly, and hesitantly step onto the wooden floor.

It’s surprisingly warm for the early spring months, and quickly I notice a set of clothes, as well as a pair of shoes on the dresser, pushed against the other wall.

”We’ll step out for now,” Says Charlie, “Change into those and we’ll be on our way!”

Stepping outside the room, my shoes click on the floor.

“That was quick.” Miss Ellie says, “Charlie, if they get hurt, I want you to bring them back to me, okay?”

“Of course, Miss Ellie. I’m not that stupid!”

And then, we were off.

The same stone path that lead into the village was the same one that lead out of it. On the other side, of course.

One thing I learned about Charlie during this whole thing is that Charlie talks. A lot. They were a bit of a chatterbox.

As we walked up the path, Charlie talks about the Traveler, who lives close by.

Apparently, there were two of them, who lived on the other side of the castle. One was named Alex, and the other Steve.

Charlie told me that the Lord of the castle had been long gone, and expressed glee at his disappearance.

“He was no good. No good at all!”

Soon enough, we arrive on a front stoop.

”It’s Steve’s” Charlie supplies, knocking on the door.

Carefully the door opens, revealing a man. He has the most entrancing violet eyes, and I can’t help but feel incredibly drawn to him.

However, there is…something off about him.

“…Hello?” He looks back and forth between us, clearly wondering what was going on.

“Hey, Mr. Steve! This is Y/n, and they showed up yesterday all banged up! Miss Ellie said to bring them to you, cause you might know something! So here we are! Do you want me to go and get Alex?”

Steve nods, turning on his heel and walking inside. He gestures to follow.

Charlie runs further down the stone path, leaving me alone with the beautiful stranger.

Steve beckons me inside.

Inside his house is very neat. There‘s a table on one side, the kitchen right next to it.

He takes a seat by the table, and I take the one next to him. Steve pulls out a book and begins writing on it. I look away, not wanting to stare.

It looks like the night is coming soon, and it makes me nervous.

“…Here.” Steve murmurs, and as I turn I notice the book is in front of me.

I read what it says;

”Hello. My name is Steve. The other villagers refer to me and Alex as the Travelers.

Charlie said you just showed up yesterday and didn’t know where you were. Do you remember anything from before that?

-Steve”

His handwriting is very tidy, printed neatly on the page.

“No, I don’t remember anything, other than my name.”

He nods, takes back the book, and begins to write again.

Distantly, I can see the silhouettes of two figures, which I assume are Charlie and the other Traveler.

Steve slides the book over again before standing up.

I read what it says;

”Well, you can stay here. I could use the company, though I’m not exactly the best communicator. I’m sure Charlie would also be willing to open up their spare room as well.

Either way, you can always make yourself at home here.

-Steve”

I smile a bit at the sentiment, an affection already growing for the quiet man.

A knock on the door startles us both.

Steve gets up and opens the door again, this time letting in Charlie and someone who I can only assume is Alex.

“Hey Steve! Charlie came to get me! This must be the Player, right? It’s nice to meet you!”

Alex is a very energetic, lovely sort of person, I find. And she makes the same offer Steve does.

”You can stay at my place, Y/n! That is, if you don’t wanna stay with this old fart.”

Steve glares at Alex, though its easy to tell he doesn’t put any malice behind it. She laughs, smacking her knee.

Soon after that, Charlie asks me where I was going to stay.

After a minute or two of thinking, I tell Charlie I want to stay with Steve.

Alex makes an extra-dramatic exit, faking crying as she leaves. Charlie shrugs, saying that they should be back for lunch tomorrow.

Amidst the chaos of the two people leaving, I miss the gentle smile on Steve’s face at my admission.

I wanted to stay with him.

In a perfect world, we could be happy together.

And this could be a perfect world.

~~~

requests and asks are open! come talk to me!

(request here)

taglist under the cut:

@solar-core @starry-moments

[beyondspaceandstars]

hello writer!! i was wondering if you could do a fluff arranged marriage loki oneshot with the prompt “can we makeout now?”

thanks for considering!

Dating and Marriage

Relationship: Loki x Reader

Warnings: N/A, just fluff!

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: alright i hope this is okay and ended up well i love the arrange marriage AU and i thought i was gonna be better at putting this together but maybe its clunky or something idk i still like it so i hope you do as well!

Masterlist

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It had taken you a while to get somewhere in your relationship with Loki.

When the two of you were informed you had already been promised to one another before either of your births, you weren’t too shocked. As both of you came from royal standings, arranged marriages were far too common for a variety of reasons. In your case, it was to cement a peace treaty.

Sure, at first, you and Loki were very annoyed with the decision, especially since neither of you was ever even given the chance to be in on the conversation but that annoyance wasn’t allowed for very long. You two were adults now and had to take on your royal responsibilities as such. That responsibility included following through on the outlined marriage.

Loki didn’t seem to harbor any malice towards you and you never held anything against him. But, still, it wasn’t like you two were in love. You were tolerating one another.

And for a while, that toleration was enough. As a couple, you were quite poised in public. Sometimes you thought maybe it was hard for others to believe it was an arranged marriage based on how much you seemed to accept each other’s company. It was okay at times, you felt like you had a friend. Being a royal in a whole new palace could be lonely. Loki at least would spare you some time to sit and chat.

But this unusual friendship you two had started after the wedding was growing into something else for you day by day. And as much as he probably wanted to deny it, you could see something shift within Loki. He’d look at you differently. Reach for your hand when out of the public eye. Even began inviting you to spend his leisure time with him.

There was no avoiding the fact you two were headed on a different course than originally planned in this arrangement and despite its prevalence, you two didn’t speak about it. But you were growing greatly tired of ignoring it.

"We should go on a date," you suddenly said one afternoon. You and Loki were sitting in the library. He was in his favorite chair, consumed with some fairytale while you were seated on the couch across from him, in the process of knitting…something. You didn’t know what — you had only taken up knitting because you had heard other princesses did it. Making scarves had become all the rage.

You could feel Loki eyeing you suspiciously as you tried working on another stitch.

Eventually, he placed his book to the side and spoke. "A date?" Loki echoed.

You shrugged, not taking your eyes off the yarn. "Yeah, a date. You know, just the two of us. We could go out or — or maybe make some dinner here. I’ve been having the kitchen servants teach me about cooking."

"I know what a date is," he sighed. "What I meant is, why should we go on a date? We’re already married."

You felt a bit defeated with that response. You set your yarn on your lap and looked at your husband. He was watching you quite intensely, waiting for your answer. You shivered under the icy stare.

"Y-You don’t want to—"

Loki cut you off abruptly. "I didn’t say that." He glanced down then back at you. "It’s just that… Dates are for wooing, yes? Why would I need that when I can already tell you’re taken with me."

Your heart dropped. You blinked at him, stunned. You hadn’t expected him to just…admit he knew what was working up in your mind. There was some pride in his eyes at your reaction but behind it, you could make out a hint of fascination.

You tried shaking off your pounding heart. You promptly picked back up the yarn, continuing your hopeless scarf, as you responded, "Have you never considered that maybe your wife still wants to be wooed despite the status of her interest."

"So you admit," he chuckled, "you have fallen for me."

You scoffed, "Don’t act all high and mighty. I’m well aware of how you look at me."

You heard Loki lean back in the chair as the leather of it creaked. You could feel his eyes roaming over you but you didn’t know in what capacity. Whatever was in his eyes now you were ignoring as you frantically tried to focus on knitting and not your love confession.

"Okay," he eventually said. "We’ll have a date."

It was impossible for you to hold back the smile forming on your lips.

***

After minimal deliberation, Loki agreed to let you cook for him. You had heard that the Midgardians used food as signs of love and were fascinated with trying to learn some dishes. You studied with the servants for days trying to perfect a meal. They were always a little uncertain about letting a princess in where servant frequented but once you explained this time you were cooking to please your husband, they giggled like schoolgirls, excited to help.

Once you felt prepared enough, you informed your husband of when you wanted the date. You may have had to do some rework of both your royal schedules but it was fine. Meetings are forever, love can be fleeting.

You were preparing the food when Loki hesitantly entered the kitchen. You had explained that you two would be eating at the kitchen table. It was just a little table where servants usually sat to eat meals or relax in between shifts.

Loki had originally protested this saying he was not of such low status. You assured him that there was no intimacy to be found at the grand dining hall. It was far too big and annoying for two people. He didn’t argue further, just mumbling that he’d be there at the time requested.

And, luckily, he followed through.

"Hi, honey," you smiled, watching the stew simmer above the flame.

Loki took his seat gently as if he was going to catch something from the table. "This is really what you wanted to do for our date?"

You nodded. "I’ve had so much fun learning this meal and doesn’t it smell great? I think it’s going to be nice. I ever have bread baking." You motioned towards the stone oven. Loki followed your gaze but didn’t look impressed yet.

"We could’ve very easily had someone make this for us," Loki pointed out. "We have that luxury, darling."

You rolled your eyes, turning back to your bubbling stew. You could feel your anger bubbling in the same fashion.

"That’s not the point, Loki," you said, the tone in the kitchen shifting as you spoke his name. You rarely ever did. He perked up as you continued, "The point is that I, your wife, like you and would like to express my adornment through a freshly cooked meal."

Loki fell silent with that, something that was so rare for him. You didn’t push any further, though, and instead killed the fire under the stew and presented your bread from the oven. You divided it out into individual portions then placed each on the table. Still with an annoyed, sour look, you sat across from your husband. He was watching the stew, you were watching him.

"It—It looks delicious," he said

"Thank you," you mumbled. You two dug in then, this date now turning out a bit more awkward than you had planned. Neither of you spoke for a while, instead filling the kitchen with the slurping of soup and chewing of bread.

Loki soon began looking between you and the food like he was working up the courage to say something which was absolutely ridiculous to you. Your husband was one of the most outspoken people in the realm.

Eventually, you just decided to look up at him, your eyes begging for him to say whatever he wanted to say.

"This meal is lovely," Loki eventually said. "Th-Thank you for…doing all this."

You smiled, a faint blush creeping up on your cheeks. "You’re welcome."

Loki finished his stew then asked, "What else should we do on this date?"

Now you were really blushing. While taking your little cooking classes, you asked the servants what else goes on on dates. They seemed like lovely girls and you were curious. You had heard stories before of dancing and parties but you wanted something more intimate and you had never actually been on much of a date before. You spent time with boys in your youth and the night before your wedding you and Loki had talked for a little bit but nothing was ever of such fashion.

One servant had informed you, quite shyly, that she and her boyfriend always finished their dates by making out. You had gasped, amazed at her bluntness but then remembered these were servant girls. They lived far less controlled lives than you.

You were partially envious but then you realized, technically, you had a husband. A husband who was capable of making out with you even if such actions and beyond were typically reserved for very a calculated time — heir bearing, such intimacy only happened during the time when potential conception was at its peak.

"Well," you said, running your spoon through your bowl of stew, "one of the servants that helped me said her and her boyfriend end their dates with make-outs."

"Making out?" Loki repeated, brows raised in surprise. "But it’s not—"

"I know."

He looked away. You could practically see the gears turning in his brain. "You want to make out with me for fun."

You giggled at his shock. "Is that so unbelievable? I thought we already established I am into my husband."

"Yes, but you, well, neither of us, have never been so bold before."

"But it’s not such a bad thing," you shrugged, "to be so bold."

Loki hummed in agreement as he eyed you. There was something in his expression you couldn’t quite put your finger on but you definitely knew something between you two had shifted. It had already been shifting, sure, but your newly expressed desires opened the dam walls.

"Alright, dear, I think I can indulge you."

You smiled at his excitement which he was certainly trying to hide. But you maybe wanted to take a moment to maybe mess with him a bit. "Hmm," you glanced around at the dirty pots and pans, "after we clean up."

Loki’s jaw dropped. "What?"

"We can get on with our date once we clean up."

"You’re kidding me, right?" He pointedly asked. You shook your head. Loki huffed, "When did my wife become such a tease?"

You stood up, collecting your bowls and plates, bringing them to the counter. "I’ve always been like this, honey," you said. "Maybe you just have to get to know me a little bit more."

Loki began stalking towards you as you pretended to be fooling with the dirty dishes. "Well, darling," he said as his hands came upon your hips, "there’s something you must know about me and it’s that I don’t like to be kept waiting."

"I can maybe leave all this for later if you ask nicely."

He scoffed. "Are you asking me to beg?"

You shook your head. "I’m just asking you to ask nicely."

"Fine," he sighed. "Please, can we make out now?"

You sighed, leaning into his hard body. His arms moved to wrap around your waist now. "Yes, your majesty."

Loki chuckled lowly, dangerously, in your ear. "Thank you, princess."

He leaned his head around and within seconds, your lips were captured with his, getting more and more lost in one another as you two become a miss of kisses and touches.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Revision.

Commissioned by the very lovely @pyrokittyowo.

Pairing: Yandere!Simeon/Reader (Obey Me).

Word Count: 2.2k.

TW: Past Trauma, Toxic Relationships, Codependency, Infantilization, Isolation, Mentions of Physical Abuse, Manipulation, Gaslighting.

The sun never sets in the Celestial Realm.

It’s less whimsical than it sounds, to be fair. Sleep is a luxury for angels, a way to pass time for the young and the injured, but that hadn't been something Simeon thought to tell you when you first arrived, as you tried to follow his mangled, irregular cycle of rest and work. You’d gotten the hang of it with time, carved out your own routine and forced yourself to follow it, but you’d be lying if you said you were completely used to it. It was grating, if anything, just how bright all of it was, the shine only amplified by the ivory and gold angels seemed so fond of. It was overwhelming, really. If you hadn’t known better, you might’ve called it unbearable.

But, you did know better. This realm was warm, but not stifling, not half as oppressive as the Devildom had been. It didn’t have the same constant chill, a pervasive darkness only made worse by the humid air and that invasive metallic scent, like stone and rock and the blood that must've been soaked into the cracks of both. The darkness was worse. All of it was worse, but you tried to keep your mind on the landscape, the starless sky, the bleakness you’d slowly grown to hate.

If you let yourself think about anything else, you’d have to think about the people you’d met, the brothers, the way they’d looked at you. You’d have to remember how tight Mammon’s grip had been, the first time he took you by the wrist rather than the hand, or how dull Beelzebub's fangs were and how much it hurt when he drove them into your skin, your chest, the sensitive area just below your collarbone that never failed to bleed, when it bit down. You’d have to think about how Lucifer’s hand felt as it wrapped around your neck, the sound of your own failing breath, the way he’d laughed as you—

You inhaled sharply, cutting yourself off before you could get any more lost in the memory.

Because that’s what it was – just a memory. Something you’d never have to worry about again, thanks to Simeon.

Still, you were allowed to complain. Even indoors, perched in one of the many bay windows spotted around Simeon’s sizable chambers, you could feel the unyielding sun, notice the light start to eat away at your vision like a hungry, gnawing parasite. There were clouds in the sky, perfect wisps of nothing, but they'd been their since the day you first arrived, fixed features on an unchanging canvas. They wouldn't move. You already knew that. Nothing moved in the Celestial Realm, not unless it had a reason to.

And yet, you found yourself opening your mouth regardless, asking the question that’d been playing on your tongue all day. You could let yourself have this. You could hope that were wrong. It wasn't like this would be the first time. “It doesn’t rain here, does it?”

Immediately, there was a hum from across the room, one of the many soft sounds Simeon seemed to be so fond of. You should’ve been glad he was there to answer at all, really. Simeon spent most of the day tending to his vague responsibilities. If he had time to sit around, pouring over a scroll in a language you couldn’t recognize, it must’ve meant it was either too early in the morning or too late at night for him to be bothered with anything else. You couldn’t be sure which, not when the two were so impossible to tell apart. “Rarely,” He replied, still distracted. “Michael tries not to leave the weather up to chance. If he needed a storm, I’d be able to tell you weeks in advance.”

You almost felt bad for him. You would’ve hated it, knowing everything long before it actually happened, but you doubted Simeon would ever let himself be so careless. “I don’t know how I’d stay sane,” You admitted, your gaze moving back to the window. A white dove had landed on the edge of Simeon’s windowsill, meticulously sorting through bleached feathers with its pointed beak, and idly, you wondered if the animals bothered to regulate themselves, too. “You wouldn't like my hometown. Couldn’t see the sky most days, and when you could, it was nearly too hot to go outside. Never stopped it from snowing a month before winter, though.” You paused, letting yourself smile at the thought. You missed it; you weren’t going to try to deny that. You were still allowed to miss things. “Luke would probably love it. Say what you want about humans, but we've never gotten a bakery wrong.”

Simeon didn’t hum, this time. The silence couldn’t have lasted more than a few seconds, but your heart still found a way to tighten in your chest, stopping completely as you heard his chair scrape against the floor, sharp footsteps following the noise immediately. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, and he was kind enough not to force you to, brushing off your avoidance as he positioned himself on the opposite side of your small shelter. It wasn't much of an improvement, though. If he'd just let himself be a little more cruel, you might've had the pleasure of hating him for it.

“You’re thinking about the human world again.”

He was getting straight to the point. You couldn’t say you weren’t thankful.

“How can I not?” You tried to laugh, but it came out strained, out of place against his sober expression. “I haven’t been home in a year. I’m bound to want to go back, eventually.”

“You know it’s not safe.” It was a familiar mantra, one you should’ve been numb to, but it still found a way to hurt, to linger, accumulate into a small, aching knot in the back of your throat as you reminded yourself that he was only doing it because he cared. That was all – he cared. He didn’t want to see you get hurt, not again. He didn’t want to see you face anything more harmful than his clumsy comfort, even if he did have a strange way of showing it. “We’ve talked about this before, (Y/n). It’s still too early to tell if Lucifer left any lasting damage. There could still be a tracking spell I haven’t discovered yet, or worse.” There was a pause, and a gloved hand came to rest on your knee. You could’ve mouthed the words, as he said them. “I can keep you safe here, but your world is neutral territory. I might not be able to stop him, if he and his brothers tried to take you away.”

You hated the way he said it. Part of you, a persistent minority, still wanted to think this was all a misunderstanding, a result of crossed wires and mixed messages and the kind of miscommunications that only ever led to such awful things. You knew it was unhealthy, to try to tint your own memories with such a forgiving light, but that didn't help you smother the temptation to believe all the soft, pleasant encouragements Asmodeus had whispered in your ear as his brothers lived out their distorted, carnal fantasies. Whatever Simeon was trying to do, it certainly wasn’t helping, either.

“I’ll be careful,” You tried, slouching against the glass. It was warm to the touch, a feeling you savored under his cold gaze. “It’d be a day trip, at most. Just a few hours. I…” He was wearing the silk gloves, today, soft and smooth as he raised his hand, cupping your cheek without a trace of hesitation. You trailed off instantly, still unused to the gentleness. “I just want to see my family, that’s all. Even if it’s only for a few minutes.”

“You’re bored of me, now?” It was supposed to be playful, the question accompanied by a light chuckle, but you still shook your head, leaning into his palm as you went on. “I can’t say I blame you. I know I’m not one for company, but if you’re dying for entertainment, I can see what—”

“It’s not just that.” You should've let him finish, but it was already too late to stop yourself. You didn’t want to stop yourself, if you were being honest. You just wanted to go somewhere else, somewhere different, a place where the sky didn’t hurt to look at and the sun wasn’t so willing to punish you for existing. You wanted to be able to step outside without worrying whether or not your angelic hosts still thought you were worthy of their concern. You didn’t want this, anymore, even if it was the better option. “I’m just tired, Simeon. I’m tired of being here, I’m tired of running, and I just want to go home—”

There was a small huff, a sharp crack. By the time you realized what happed, by the time that sudden acidic sting faded into a steady throb, his thumb was already digging into your jaw, your head forcibly tilted back in such a way that made it so you had to look at him. You couldn’t avoid the softened anger in his eyes, or the stiffness in his posture, or that tight, unignorable scowl. He was disappointed, and he wanted you to know you were the reason why. He was mad at you, and you’d done everything to earn it.

When he spoke, he did so slowly. Like he was talking to a child who hadn’t quite come to terms with reality, just yet. “I’ve taken care of you, haven’t I?”

“You have.” There was no point trying to deny it. If it hadn’t been for Simeon, you’d still be rotting in that hellscape, subject to the whims of a family of monsters. He'd saved you. He'd helped you escape, and you had to be thankful for that. “I just don’t know if I can—”

“And you care about me, right? You don’t want to see me worry?”

You hesitated, but your answer was inevitable “Of course.”

“And you do remember the last thing Belphie said to you, don’t you? What he did to send you running to me?” He let himself smile, despite the nature of the question. “I could barely understand you back then, with the crying and all. Honestly, I almost didn't notice you were begging me to save you.” It was easy to forget how Simeon could be, when he knew he was right. Most of the time, his confidence was comforting, a gentle reminder that you could trust him, that you should trust him. Right now, it just made you feel weak. “What was it, again? C’mon, love, you can tell me, can’t you?”

You could. Objectively, you could, if you tried to. You could force your mouth to make the words, you could shut your eyes and let Simeon guide you through it, and you could tell yourself they were just memories, that you were somewhere else now, that you were somewhere better, but…

But, you really, really didn’t want to, and you couldn’t convince yourself you did.

If you did, you’d have to remember how tightly Belphegor had held your hand, as he said it, his fingers intertwined with yours and his grip strong enough to leave your palm bruised, after he pulled away. You’d have to think about the small smile he wore, the hatred in his half-lidded eyes, the chill that'd run down your spine as he hid his face in the crook of your shoulder and told you that, if you ever tried to leave him, if he ever had to share you with anyone beyond the six exceptions he was already making, he’d kill you. It was as simple as that.

If he ever saw you again, he’d kill you.

You were safe, here. You were safe in the Celestial Realm, you were safe with Simeon, but you still found yourself choking on the words, your throat going dry as your shoulders pitched forward, a bolt of something frozen striking your chest before you could ward it off. You couldn't be sure why something so distant would make you cry, but you could feel it coming on – hot tears welling in your eyes, blurring your vision, threatening to spill over and strip you of what little pride you had left, but Simeon only wiped them away, as doting as he always was. As loving as he always was, even when you took his patience for granted. Even when you hesitated to lean into him, as he pulled you into his chest, urging you to hide your face and treat him like the pillar of support he was so clearly trying to be. Even when you didn't deserve it, when you didn't deserve him, when you didn't deserve any of this, not when he was kind enough to pretend he didn't know that just as well as you.

“Poor little thing.” He was humming, now, his tone teetering on the line between carelessness and comfort. You couldn’t bring yourself to care, not in the moment, not when it was all you could do to muffle your hitched sobs into small, pathetic whimpers. “It’s nothing to blame yourself for. You just need a little help.” Another pause, elongated and purposeful. Sadistic, in only because he had to try so hard not to be. “You just need someone to protect you. It’s only human.”

It was all you could do to nod, to agree, as mindlessly as you were capable of. You didn’t want to think. You didn’t want to risk remembering something you shouldn’t.

Instead, you just focused on the sunlight streaming the nearest window, how it felt as it hit you.

How, wherever your skin made contact with Simeon’s, it seemed to grow just a little more insufferable than it had been, a second ago.

[marauderundercover]

Taking Chances Chapter 6: Let’s Play a Game (Overprotection)

Prev

AO3

Marinette ended up not staying for dinner. She talked to Bruce for a little bit, but he had to leave for some WE emergency and Marinette wasn’t really up to bonding with the boys- her brothers- yet. But that was fine. It wasn’t like she was desperate to get to know the man and wouldn’t be able to after this trip because she had to stay in Paris because of Hawkmoth. No, she wasn’t upset. Not at all. It didn’t hurt her feelings. Nope.

---

Walking into Madame Soleil's Wax Museum with Adrien by her side, Marinette is hit with a major wave of deja vu. And not a good deja vu. No, the memories of the last time she was in a wax museum with Adrien were awful, humiliating and- feeling a hand wrap around hers pulls her from her spiraling thoughts. Glancing down, Marinette tries (and fails) to hide her grin. Adrien is holding her hand. Adrien is holding her hand!

“Hey Marinette!” A familiar voice calls, a hand squeezing her shoulder, making Marinette squeal and whirl around.

“Dick? What are you doing here?” She asks, frowning at the boy- her brother- as he stands there with a huge smile.

“Well I heard that a new wax figure is being revealed today, and I thought I might come and see it.” He says with a nonchalant shrug.

“Really? Who?” Adrien asks. Dick’s smile twitches slightly as he glances at Marinette, making her frown. Was he seriously about to play the overprotective big brother card? Really?

“Jagged Stone.” Dick finally says, glancing at their entwined hands. Marinette tries hard not to roll her eyes. Come on, her crush is finally holding her hand and her brother (who she’s known for a day!) is seriously trying to ruin that for her?

“Oh cool! Do you think he’ll come to Gotham to see it, Mari?” Adrien asks.

“I think he’s definitely scheduled to make an appearance in Gotham in the next couple days. He’s picking up his new suit in person.” She whispers, grinning at the idea of seeing her “Uncle” in person again. He’d been touring for several months and she hadn’t been able to see him for awhile, just the occasional video call.

“So! What figures did you guys want to check out first?” Dick asks, wedging himself between the two and forcing Adrien to drop her hand. Glaring at her brother, Marinette scoffs when Dick just smiles innocently.

“The hall of heroes and villains sounds cool.” Adrien suggests, looking around Dick to see Marinette.

“Hmm. Okay, but if the Nightwing figure is in his disco costume, I reserve the right to melt the statue.” She says, frowning at the choked noise Dick makes. “Are you okay?” She adds.

“Oh, uh, yeah, yeah I’m fine. What’s 1so bad about that costume?” He asks, a hurt expression on his face.

“Have you even seen it? The only worse costume is Riddler’s.” Marinette says, adding a shudder for dramatic effect. Walking past the local celebrities room and the pop stars room, Marinette’s eyes widen as their small group walks into the hall of heroes and villains. Walking away from Dick and Adrien, she’s almost instantly drawn to the Batman figure. She reads the little plaque about the artist and frowns, turning to Dick who had moved to stand next to her.

“I thought it’d be taller.” She says, scrunching her eyebrows in confusion when Dick starts choking on air, gasping for breath as broken chuckles flood out of him. “Ookay then.” She mutters, turning and walking back towards the villains. Nightwing was, luckily, depicted in his most recent costume. As was Robin. Which meant the only real fashion tragedy (besides the god awful helmet Red Hood wore) was the Riddler. Pulling her sketchbook out, Marinette circles the wax figure, occasionally making notes and sketching out slight adjustments to the man’s costume.

“His costume might be terrible, but it’s still better than half of the akumas.” Adrien whispers, leaning over her shoulder. Marinette looks up at him, eyes wide as her face heats up with a blush.

“I, uh, um, yes. Yeah.” She says, trying not to wince at her lack of speaking skills. “I mean, at least we can rule out any fashion designer in Paris as Hawkmoth. Because if Hawkmoth was a designer, that’d almost be a bigger crime.” She adds, smiling as Adrien laughs.

“Good to know you’re not moonlighting as Hawkmoth, m’lady.” He says with a mock bow. Marinette snorts, then covers her mouth, embarrassment rushing over her. Adrien just shakes his head, wrapping an arm over her shoulders.

“In case you forgot, we’ve definitely seen each other at our most embarrassing.” He says, making her groan.

“Oh god, no. I tied us up with my yoyo!” She moans, turning and burying her face into his chest so she doesn’t have to look at him anymore. Her face heats up more when she feels him chuckle and wrap his arms around her.

“I’ve always thought that was paw-sitively adorable.” He says, laughing when she groans again. She pulls away slightly, looking up at him with a timid smile. He smiles back, starts to lean forward and-

“Hey guys! I heard they’re about to unveil the Jagged Stone figure. Come on, let’s go! Don’t wanna miss it.” Dick says, grabbing each of their hands and pulling them towards the exist (and successfully separating them again). Marinette tries not to glare at Dick. She’s about to have one less brother.

---

Dick Grayson wasn’t used to having a little sister that he could protect. Sure, he had a little sister. Cas was awesome, but she could also kick his ass without breaking a sweat. No, he’d never had a little sister to protect. Someone he could watch out for and support. But now….now he has Marinette. And he’ll be damned if he lets some little punk take advantage of his little sister. Ignoring Marinette’s glare, he positions himself right between her and...the boy. He’d need to ask Timmy to do a background check on the kid later. Especially if he thought he was good enough for Marinette.

“So are you guys big Jagged fans?” He asks, trying to pull the two back into a conversation. He narrows his eyes at the smile the kid gives Marinette. It’s too...adoring. Too much. She’s only...what, fourteen? Much too young to date. Especially this kid.

“Mari’s a bit of a fan, I think. But, personally, I much prefer Jagged’s designer.” He says, and Dick turns to him, missing the way Marinette’s face turns bright red.

“Are you talking about MDC? I love them! Their work is amazing! And Jagged Stone says that he’ll never have another designer. I heard that there’s a possibility of them opening their commissions again. God, I hope they do. I’d do anything for something made by MDC.” Dick rambles with a wide smile, deciding to ignore the kid for a minute in order to ramble about his favorite designer. As the group walks into the pop star room, Dick steps back and glares at the kid. He’d stepped just behind Dick and was apparently trying to hold Marinette’s hand again. Not on his watch. No siree. No one’s gonna hurt his little sister.

---

Bruce sighs, running his hands through his hair. He’d been checking the street cameras in Paris, trying to figure out what time Ladybug and Chat Noir patrol so that he can set up a meeting. Try and offer help, or maybe even offer to take control of the situation. Anything to get rid of Hawkmoth. But instead, it was like the heroes didn’t exist. He’d read reports of the heroes patrolling before, so why were they so quiet this week? The only akuma from the past couple days wasn’t even taken care of by both of them. Ladybug did it alone, and seemed worse for the wear when she came out of the battle. Where was Chat Noir? And why did it seem as though they had gone into hiding?

---

Marinette was five seconds away from committing her first murder. Okay, probably her only murder, unless her other brothers decide to be as involved in her love life as Dick is. Because Dick won’t have the chance to be a problem for much longer. Because Marinette was honestly going to kill him. Right as she turned to finally yell at him, and tell him to knock it off, the lights flickered. She pauses her tirade, glancing to gauge Dick’s reaction to see if this is normal. And if his worried glances back at her are anything to go by, this is not normal.

“Let’s play a game! Solve my riddles and you all can leave freely, but make a mistake and someone will pay greatly! Take one out and scratch my head, I am now black but once was red. What am I?” A man’s voice asks, Marinette frowning as the Riddler walks in, a wide smile on his face. Ten goons walk in behind him, all of them carrying guns. She was used to the akuma attacks almost every day, but didn’t Gotham’s rogues have anything better to do than attack every place her class went? With guns? Come on. Riddler smirks and points at Adrien with his cane.

“A match.” She blurts out, ignoring Dick frantically shaking his head. If nothing else, she should be able to work with Adrien to get everyone out. But she knew his style. And riddles weren’t really his thing.

“Oh goody. We have a volunteer. Tell me, what has to be broken before you can use it?” Riddler asks, stalking towards her. Thinking for a second, Marinette tries to suppress a smile.

“An egg.” She says. Riddler narrows his eyes.

“I have 13 hearts, but no lungs or stomach. What am I?” He asks, Marinette frowns, running through possible answers in her head.

“A deck of cards.” She finally says.

“Buzzy, come over here and hold onto our friend.” Riddler says, gesturing to one of the goons. The man comes over and grabs Marinette’s arm roughly, she winces. That’ll definitely bruise.

“I answered your riddles.” Marinette says, deciding that now's as good a time as any to start distracting the man.

“And how did you answer them so quickly?” He asks, the frustration clear on his face.

“What do you mean? Were they supposed to be hard?” Marinette taunts, ignoring the choked sound Dick makes behind her. She knew what she was doing. She did. She had to.

“Why you-” Riddler starts, stepping forward and pulling his hand back as if to hit her. Squeezing her eyes shut, Marinette waits for the slap. The slap never comes. Opening her eyes, Marinette’s jaw drops when she sees the Riddler’s fist held tightly in Dick’s hand.

“Don’t. Touch. Her.” He says lowly, a dark look on his face. Well that was unexpected. Riddler opens his mouth, probably to start spouting more riddles or other nonsense, when the goons blocking the exits drop. Noticing Red Robin and Red Hood picking off the other goons, Marinette throws her elbow back into the gut of the goon holding her. Not waiting for him to recover, Marinette stomps his foot and twists out of his grip. Grabbing his arm, Marinette manages to yank the man off balance and toss him to the ground. A hand on her shoulder makes her jump back and prepare to hit the person.

“Whoa, whoa, it’s okay ma’am.” The voice attached to the hand says. Marinette whirls around, ready to tell off the person, but immediately stops when she sees Red Robin.

“Sorry!” She yelps, jumping away from him. And she was too. She was determined to hit the person who grabbed her shoulder, so locked into battle mode, but she had managed to stop herself. Glancing around the room, Marinette notices Dick talking to Red Hood, his usual smile back on his face. That’s good. That’s normal, that’s right. The sudden blaring of the akuma alarm makes Marinette want to scream in frustration. Really, right now? It’s definitely already dark in Paris which means- Chat Noir. Ignoring everyone else, Marinette runs over to Adrien and grabs his hand.

“Akuma?” He asks, his voice low. She nods and tugs him towards the bathrooms, unaware of the eyes following them out.

Next

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[jasonspetertodds]

tithe

warnings: none

“Are you going to shoot me again?”

Jason took a sip of his coffee, eyes not even moving away from his paperback, shrugging “Maybe.”

“Maybe? That’s real reassuring, Jay.”

He shrugged again, reaffirming, “Maybe.”

His eyes flicked to his older brother, suspicion rolling off of him in waves. It wasn’t like this had gone well the first time Dick had tried it. It had been two months before and Jason had mostly gotten his emotions under control. He rolled his shoulders, shifting in his seat, voice dull instead of cutting, “What do you want?”

“I can’t talk to my baby brother?”

Jason shook his head, leaning to grab his mug, “No.”

“Why not?”

Jason took an agitated sip, rolling his eyes over the brim of his mug, “Because you’re annoying.”

Dick scoffed. Jason noted the older man hadn’t taken a seat yet. Good. He at least gave the illusion that he learned from their last encounter. He shifted again, bringing is feet closer to him. He was still so on edge. His brother’s gaze flicked down at the action, registering it, but he didn’t move closer.

“If you want to talk, it’d be a start to not keep trying to do it here.”

Dick titled his head to the side, calculating. He let out a slow, “…Okay. Are you going to tell me why?”

Jason glanced up from the page again, taking note of the number before gently setting it down in front of him. He stretched his legs back out, lightly crossing them at the ankles. He could feel the rubber soles of his boots roll on the concrete as he shrugged, running his knuckles under his jaw as he thought.

“Because I don’t want to talk here.”

Dick snorted, head momentarily dropping as he looked at the pavement then beside him. Jason never claimed he wasn’t difficult. He also felt like he didn’t need a reason. He narrowed his eyes at the older man. He sighed, crossing his arms over his chest, “I come here to read.”

Dick, for the most part, seemed to pick up on his underlying meaning. He had been particular about where he was reading in the manor when they were kids— preferring complete silence and a lack of familial interruption. It had been their most noticeable difference in the beginning. Dick was a social butterfly, extroverted and charming while Jason was more in line with Bruce. He was a quiet kid, who turned into a quiet adult. He wasn’t quite as strong of an introvert as Bruce or Tim or even Cass, instead becoming a happy medium between Dick and Tim. He could be just as charming as Dick when he wanted to be, but he still needed quiet to recuperate after a gala.

And, he just wanted a moment without someone imposing their will onto him. For one goddamn Sunday morning. Dick nodded, understanding.

“Okay. I get it. I’ll back off.”

“Tell the others, too.” Jason said, eyes locked with Dick’s. He was completely serious and it was actually kind of relieving to see his brother nodding along in acknowledgement.

Dick shoved his hands into his jean pockets, not once breaking eye contact as he responded, “I will.”

Jason felt all the tension in his shoulders completely subside. He sighed, feeling relief flood his core. Dick was nothing if not a man of his word. They all were, but Dick was the only one who would be able to bully their siblings (and Bruce) into giving Jason some much needed space. He was sure his gratitude and relief bled into his tone, “Thanks.”

“B’s going to be tough, though. I’ll try but you’re the only person I’ve ever met that can out-stubborn him.”

Jason cracked a small smile at that, nodding his head as he closed his eyes, “Damn straight.”

He didn’t gesture to the man before him to sit down, instead flicking his eyes over to him, offering, “I’ve been taking hot yoga classes every Tuesday and Thursday morning. It’s great for your joints.”

Dick let an easy smile crawl onto his face, huffing out a laugh. “Alright, Jay.”

Jason shrugged, preoccupied with his book again, “Two birds, one stone. And if I’m aching this much at my age I can’t imagine how you and Bruce must feel.”

His brother ignored the jab, instead smirking, “I’ll see you Tuesday, no take backs. I want to spend some time with my oldest-little brother, okay?”

Jason shrugged, flipping the page, “Yeah, yeah. I reserve the right to smother you if you get too chummy.”

Dick’s voice was significantly lighter than at the beginning of the conversation, his voice teasing and Jason could picture his eyes rolling without even seeing the man’s face, “Bye, Jason.”

He took another sip of coffee, settling in to get through at least the next two chapters.

[aressss1]

The Bloody Red Banquet

(Technoblade x Reader)

Read me on AO3!

A/N:  Descriptions of blood and gore, as well as death in this one, so please turn back if that makes you uncomfortable. Also spoilers for the Red Banquet, if you haven't seen it yet.

~~~~~~

“Why aren’t you going to be there?” You whined, trying to give your love your best sad puppy dog impression. This caused an irritated sigh to escape Techno’s lips, as his eyes searched your face.

 “The last time I was at celebration it didn’t go well… Or do you not remember that.”  He grumbled. “You shouldn’t go.” His eyes pierced right through you. “Why would they just change their tune that quickly?” He questioned you gesturing in the direction of the main SMP. “It’s not safe.”

“Puffy and Niki asked me to go…” You bit your lip looking away from him. “Puffy doesn’t trust them either, and she’s got something planned if things go south.” Techno’s eyebrows furrowed, and he sighed, his hands dropping to his sides. You were going to go against the rules and bring your armor, not that you would tell Techno that, it would just make his point stand even more.

 “I’m not goin’,” He walked back toward his seat as he summoned his axe. You watched as he proceeded to sharpen the tool in his hands. “I’m not gonna stop you from goin’, I want you to have fun, and I could only hope they’re serious.” You gave a huff at his words. You wanted him there to back you up if need be. “I know you can handle yourself, you’re a great fighter.” He sighed, his eyes focusing back to the axe in his hands.

 He had his own plans regarding that banquet, he trusted you with his life… He just couldn’t risk word getting out about his plans. He would be there for you if need be, but he needed everything to go smoothly for him. He wasn’t about to lose you to the egg or anyone else for that matter. The netherite axe in his hands felt heavy, and his fingers tightened on the handle. You could handle yourself, he had faith in you and your fighting abilities.

 “Ugh fine…” You pouted climbing up to your shared room, finding your best clothes suitable for a banquet, you put them on feeling the fabric hug your form. You examined yourself in the mirror adjusting your hair, smoothing out the wrinkles in your clothes that you had missed. Some time had passed, and you were ready. Climbing down the ladder, you could feel Techno’s eyes on you, watching you. You gave him a smirk. “You sure you don’t want to come?”

 He gave a grumble as he set his axe down by his chair, walking over to you. Brushing your hair out of your eyes, he gazes over your face with a fond expression. You melt at his touch, as you place your hands on his chest. His hand slips up to the back of your neck.

 “You look amazin’,” His deep voice grounds you and you close your eyes as his face inches closer to yours. “I can’t wait until you take those clothes off.” You felt heat rise to your cheeks, as he kisses you hungrily, his other arm wrapping around your lower back to pull you even closer to him. He was still able to give you butterflies. You loved this hybrid. You almost whimpered when he pulled away. “You…” His thumb stroked over your cheek, “have a banquet to get to.”

 He pulled away from you, admiring the hungry look in your eyes. He made his way to the chair again taking hold of the axe. He wanted to go with you, especially with how you looked right now… But he couldn’t just back out on Quackity. This was too important.

 He watched you go, the sound of the stone sharpening the axe echoing through the house made it feel very lonely. But he would be with you soon. You would be safe.

 ~~

 It was a… Very red banquet… You were the second guest to arrive it seemed. So, when Ponk had taken your coat, you made your way to the venue. Niki was talking with BBH, you were about to go say hi to her when Sam and Puffy came in behind you. Puffy called you by your name excitedly and started gushing about your outfit. You turned and gave her a smile, meeting the two of them by the entrance.

 More guests arrived by the minute. Everyone looked amazing, and you giggled when Foolish flashed his rolex and started handing out the cider he had brought. It was cute watching Puffy with Foolish. Eventually, everyone moved to the dance floor. The music started up, and people started dancing, swaying to and fro with the music.

 Puffy had gone to talk to BBH and you found Niki, she flashed you a smile, and you started dancing with her. You had fun twirling around with her, the both of you laughed dancing to Hbomb’s song of choice. By the time the two of you were out of breath, leaning on each other, Puffy had come back to you, linking arms with you and Niki, as she was excited about the shrimp cocktail that Antfrost had promised her.

.

You sat next to Niki; your eyes curiously look over the red soup on the table in front of you. Beet soup? It wasn’t the best, but it was… red… Like everything else here. It definitely fit the theme. You could feel Ponk’s and Ant’s eyes on you as they whispered to each other, from across the table and you had a bad feeling settle in your stomach.

 Once everyone was in their place, you all listened to Bad’s beginning speech, asking if others wanted to make a toast. Foolish volunteered going first and you gave him an encouraging nod when he looked over you and Niki. Though his speech was… a little on the rough side, you raised your glass when he called for cheers. Niki patted Foolish on his shoulder as he sat back down on the other side of her.

 Eret volunteered to say a few words next. He held himself with grace, as he stepped up on the table, scanning those around him. You could have sworn you saw the monarch side of him come out. His toast was well said and you realized that even though he spoke words of everyone being reunited… You bit your lip. Spoken like a true king, even if the reality wouldn’t be that easy. In fact, it was near impossible, too much has happened, and you would be a fool to believe words like that.

 Ponk’s speech was short… and sweet? It was… Interesting… to say the least. You and Foolish exchanged confused glances when Sam called Ponk beautiful. Wasn’t he the one to take Ponk’s arm? You shrugged it off opting to think about it later. Everyone raised their glasses in a confused manner, well everyone except for Puffy, who stood up on the table, looking like she wanted to say her piece.

 When Puffy spoke, she was casual, mentioning how the egg tore her, Bad and Antfrost apart. You gave her a smile when she glanced over you and Niki as she expressed that she didn’t want any more friendships being ruined over the egg anymore. Everyone cheered as she made her way back to her seat.

 You pitied George when he was thrust into giving a toast, he clearly hadn’t thought of doing. But he did well, considering. Even asking Ponk about the soup. You giggled at Ponk’s explanation of free-range beets. George gave a yawn as he made his way back to his seat.

 Lastly it was Bad’s closing speech, and you listened intently. Your hands fidgeted with your glass. You kept seeing things in the rafters of this place, shadows… You had your armor in your inventory, you weren’t gullible, and even though Bad spoke of nothing but good things for the future… The temperature rose, causing sweat to bead off of your skin… Toward the end of Bad’s speech… Your back was burning, and when you turned around and were met with a wall of lava. You stood as Bad spoke those words, the words you had been waiting to hear. The words that confirmed that this was nothing more than a trap.

 “Prepare to die.” He spoke it so casually… Hearing the gasps of the other guests, you and Niki back up, creating as much space in between you and them as you could without touching the lava at your back. You and Niki watched as Puffy confronted all of them. Pulling up the tablecloth from the table revealing a chest.  

 “WHAT!?” Her shriek rang through out the entire banquet. You felt your blood run cold, your eyes connecting with Niki’s. Bad laughed as he summoned forth a set of diamond armor… Hannah, Antfrost and Ponk followed suit. Hannah stepped forward. A tainted apology spewing from her lips. You felt your fists clench and unclench as you were stepping forward, your eye on all of their swords, which they eventually swapped to their crossbows. Sam, stepped forward, his eyes on Hannah.

 “Well… That is tragic that you told them about our plans for the armor, buut…” Sam paused, continuing after Bad questioned him on what he meant. “There is something, that you should know… I had another plan because I didn’t trust you.” His eyes pierce through Hannah. You felt your lips quirk up as Sam mentioned his plan to blow the egg up.

 It all happened really fast, and you braced yourself, your hands coming up to cover your ears as TNT rained on top of the egg. Your eyes were closed, and you straightened up, your eyes looking over the still intact egg once all of the TNT had detonated. Obsidian covered the egg as if it were armor. Your heart sunk as you watched as the obsidian disappear without a trace. The TNT had failed…

 You tuned out Bad’s laughing, your eyes looking for any possible way out of this situation. Your heartbeat echoed in your ears, and you were having trouble breathing. You willed yourself to calm down. Bad pulled everyone’s attention to the egg, as he stood in front of it. Straining to hear what he was saying you push through the crowd, planting yourself at the forefront next to Foolish and Eret.

 You were able to focus, when Eret called Bad a monster, only to receive insults back about his past betrayals. You bit your lip, your hands itching to call your armor forth, now wasn’t the time. Your eyes scanned over Eret gauging his reactions.

 “I’ve changed since then! I know not to break peoples trust anymore.” He was silent, his hands clasped behind his back, he truly held himself like a king. Bad smirked announcing that Eret would be the first one to be sacrificed on this night. You felt your eyes widen, adrenaline coursing through you. You tried grounding yourself, making sure your feet were firmly planted where you stood.

 You had to hold yourself back as they grabbed Eret, forcing him to kneel in front of the egg. Antfrost pointed the tip of his sword at Eret’s throat his ruby red eyes staring daggers at the crowd that watched. Eret’s crown fell to the ground as Hannah push him down exposing his neck for Antfrost’s blade to see.

 You grit your teeth, what could you do in this sort of situation. The others tried talking it out with Bad, but you zoned out of their conversation. Opting to once again scanning the area for anything that might help… Your attention snapped back to Eret and Antfrost, as Ant held his sword up, readying it to come down. You felt your feet start to move on their own, well… That is… Until Foolish started talking, you felt yourself stop, listening to what he had to say.

“Enough! I am sick of this foul, red stench. I am tired of this endless cycle of egg nonsense. I tried, WE tried to give this dreadful egg another chance. But it’s probably best it ends this way.” Your eyes flick over to Bad as Foolish keeps talking. Trying to gauge their reaction, you ready yourself to summon your armor. “But can it withstand… A barrage of lightning?”

 A few painfully long seconds, pass by… Your stomach lurched when nothing happened. Foolish fell to his knees. Studying his hands, he shook his head.

 “I don’t understand…” He was in genuine disbelief. His eyes lock with Eret’s. “Why… Isn’t it working?” He asked, as if Eret would know. Today was filled with many disappointments… You gulped down the lump in your throat, listening to Bad gloat, about how we were in the egg’s territory. We held no power here, as a human, and even as a God...

 “Why don’t we start with Foolish instead?”Ant’s words caused Puffy, to scream her repugnance at them. They ignored her, as they dragged Foolish up from his knees and to the area where they previously kept Eret.

 “You two Bad, Ant, this is your last chance with me, your very very last chance. I am done after this.” Puffy ran to the front, anger flashing in her eyes as she looked over all of them. You could only watch, as Eret made his way over to you. Puffy was a good mother, defending her son. You listened to them fight, your hands shook at your sides. Ant blamed Puffy for everything that they were doing… Saying it was her fault… When Ant stopped talking and the sound of the blade had sliced through Foolish’s skin, his body falling to the ground made you tear up. Puffy screamed and you summoned forth your armor.

 The netherite armor you donned clung to your body, it was always such a perfect fit, expertly made by Techno. Foolish was dead and it was clear you needed to fight, otherwise you wouldn’t get out of here alive, and if this didn’t help you didn’t go down helpless. Everyone screamed as Puffy sunk down to the ground, tears in her eyes, her burning eyes trained on Antfrost.

 “Oh? What’s this?” Bad eyed you with an amused expression crossing his features. “I think we have a party pooper on our hands.” Bad’s group homed in on you. The sword in your hands was heavy, Techno and Phil had taught you how to fight. You could easily take down one maybe two, but there were three on you in an instant. You couldn’t even get a swing in with your sword, before they knocked the weapon from your hands, grabbing your wrists, and binding them together.

 “Let go of me,” You kicked and thrashed your legs to no avail. They had an easy time getting you into Foolish’s spot. They made you kneel… Where he kneeled… His blood pooled where you stood, it soaked into your outfit, the sight making your stomach churn in disgust.

 “Don’t worry, you will be a part of something bigger, than you and I.” It sounded like Bad was trying to reassure you… “Good thing that armor doesn’t cover their neck.” Bad shrugged as his eyes flicked to Ant who held his axe, instead of the sword he killed Foolish with, at the ready. You tried wrenching away, but Hannah’s hold on your hair kept you in place. You couldn’t see anything, but the bloody ground, tears on the brink of flowing. Techno’s words about it not being safe echoing in your mind.

 “I’m sorry… Techno.” It was barely a whisper, no one heard it but you. Out of the corner of your eye Ant raised his axe and in one fell swoop he brought it down. Your whole body tensed, and you waited for death… But it never came. Instead, a loud clang of metal on metal sounded out above you. Ant’s axe went flying, landing near puffy.

 “Bad stop, stop what you’re doing right now.” Quackity’s voice sounded out and Hannah’s hold on you was released as she backed away from your very own blood God who now stood next to you. Your heart soared at the sight of Techno, who didn’t hesitate to pull you up from your kneeling position and to him away from the enemy. You looked around for Quackity who had his hands up as he talked with Bad. He still had a sword in his hand, as he talked.

 You listened to Quackity, who you hadn’t seen in forever, not since he had kidnapped you to get an edge on Techno, so he would come easily to his own execution… His gnarled face… You knew Techno had done a number on him… But… It was easy to forget who Techno was and what he could do. Quackity was a good reminder, and you nuzzled yourself closer into Techno’s side. Techno’s eyes scanned over you, looking for any wounds. But when his eyes turned back toward Bad, he let out a whistle and out from the opening, you assumed Quackity came from, a hoard of dogs rushed in, as they planted themselves around their master. During Quackity’s speech Purpled made himself known, and you figured that had to hurt the eggpire since Purpled was working for them. You gave a sigh of relief.

 “Techno. You and Quackity are enemies why would you side with him?” Bad’s glare shifted from Quackity and Purpled, to Techno. Your Blood God tightened his hold on you as if they would snatch you away from him.

 “Listen Bad, I didn’t want to work with this guy either, but this egg… Is warpin’ people’s minds, it’s controllin’ them, and it has no plans of stoppin’ until it controls the entire world.” He paused, his nose wrinkling underneath the pig skull mask. “This egg stands for everything… It’s the epitome of everything I stand against as an anarchist, and if I don’t stop it… It’ll be the end of the world.” He squared his shoulders his eyes glancing toward you. “Not to mention, you almost killed one of the people most important to me, and for that, I’ll see that you will get tenfold what Quackity got.”

 “ANTFROST YOU’RE DEAD!” Puffy screamed, she had grabbed Antfrost’s axe, and she ran at him swinging wildly. “You’ve taken my kindness as weakness Antfrost!” Her axe hitting him square in the chest plate he tried blocking and dodging most of her shots, but to no avail, he stumbled back. She brought her axe down hitting him square in the jugular. Blood sprayed over her, as her grip tightened on the axe, and she pulled it out with a sickening crunch. His body fell to the ground and she turned around, her eyes scanning the crowd; it was truly a look of despair only a mother could feel.

 That was when everyone broke out fighting. Techno held you behind him, his cloak now covering your body. The dogs stayed around him attacking those who got close enough, keeping a good perimeter between the two of you and them, as Techno shot his fireworks at the enemy. You pressed your face in between his shoulder blades, your fingers intertwining in his shirt, just waiting for the sounds to stop.

 When Bad called for retreat, and everything quieted down you felt yourself breath a sigh of relief. You just wanted to go home at this point. You listened to the conversation around you, as Techno put his arm around you. His fingers rubbing tiny circles in your arm to try and comfort you.

 “Come on, I’ve got you darlin’,” He whispered in your ear, once Quackity said his piece to him and Sam. He carried you on his back, back to the place that you both called home. When you felt the windchill, you shuddered, happy to feel it again. Tears sprung forth and you buried your face in his cloak, your tears soaking into the red material.

 When you got into the house, he fed the coals of the fire, making it come back to life. He scans over your form, his heart sinking when you didn’t look up at him. He could have lost you in a second. Taking off his mask, he presses his lips to your forehead, his hands running up your arms.

 “Darlin’ let’s get you out of these clothes,” the scent of Foolish’s blood permeated the air, making the voices in his mind louder and more aggressive... Aggression wasn’t something you needed right now. He helped you get undressed finding more comfortable clothing for you to wear. While you bathed and eventually got dressed, he made dinner for the both of you. You were still in disbelief, that you almost lost a life, not to mention you felt horrible because Foolish did lose a life… You didn’t want to eat when Techno slid food in front of you.

 “Eat, you need your strength.” You nodded and picked at your food. You weren’t hungry, but if you didn’t at least try, you would worry Techno. That was the last thing he needed. The two of you ate in a comfortable silence, and when the two of you were done with dinner, he set your plates in the kitchen sink, opting to do them later. He turned back to you kneeling down to your level, letting his lips graze yours.

 “I love you.” He never said it out loud before, he always made sure you knew though but this time was different, sure Quackity threatened your life when Techno was on his way to his execution… But to see an axe flying toward you… Was a completely different feeling all together. Your tears sprang forth at his confession, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, as you sobbed. He held you close, even picked you up and sat down in his chair with you in his arms. “I’m here. It’s okay.” He tried calming you, as he pressed kisses to your head, while you sobbed into his chest.

 When you did calm down and you just laid there with your head on his chest, he started reading to you, his arm still around you while the other held up the book he read from. The two of you always did this, but this time was more special. He still had you in his arms, and you still had him. The two of you stayed like that until nightfall. The fire roaring beside his chair.

 It wasn’t until you were asleep, did he decide to take you to your shared bed. He climbed the ladder albeit a little awkwardly, but he got your exhausted form up there, like he had done many times before. He got ready for bed himself, and he climbed in the sheets with you, holding you closely to him. He vowed to protect you and he would, to his very last breath.

[theeyeofinfinity]

Hallowed Ground

I know you check these, but i don’t know how thoroughly... I’ll leave this for a couple days and if you’re meant to see it you will. If not you won’t. Either way it won’t be up long. I’ve come to enjoy these games of chance.

Theres so much that i want to say but at this point whats left unsaid? I’ve felt a lot more at ease the last few months. Whenever i feel myself becoming consumed by myself i sit outside and listen. I find my refuge in mother earth and she cradles me in her warmth and wisdom when i need to find guidance. Its what led me back to this place. I felt so happy finding it again. I felt like an explorer, a pioneer. None of those paths felt familiar and i took a lot of wrong turns and strayed off into the paths that were less travelled. But i found it. I had that rock face engraved into my mind and there were still remnants of its use as a camp site. I swear that even that old pan that was lying around was the same one i had picked up when we first found it. That was the first time i felt like i was living my calling. The thrill of the unknown. The satisfaction of finding what was lost. It also showed me a glimpse of myself. The paths I’ve taken are less that travelled. Theres really no guide for my road because most don’t know it exists. Yet, i find my mark at the end. I end up where i want to be. Where i need to be. When i got there i felt happy, i sat there and imagined you holding my hand while i droned on about the good things. I felt like you were there. But the you that loved me. The you that i loved. 16-17 year old us. I went back in time and told you about all the stuff we’d go on to do and the fun we’d have together. The fights and the intensity that would come. I pictured you looking at me all puzzled saying “yeah right, what could we possibly have to fight about?!” To which I’d counter with “surprisingly, a lot.” I’d tell you about all the things I’ve learned, about myself, and life. The theories and life lessons. Watching you laugh at me, giving me a playful punch and cuddling me. A grin on your face from ear to ear because nothing else mattered but the moments we were sharing. I had come to clear my mind and had found you. I felt this urge to find this place. I saved it on here so i wouldnt forget it and set up a stone pile to mark it incase i became if it was the same spot. What i didn’t count on was you still looking here. You came to find it and left me a piece of you. I’d come back on the weekends to keep talking. The walk to and from imagining you holding arm and leaning your head on my shoulder. At some point my arm started getting warmer than the rest of me and it genuinely felt like you were there. I’d have a smile on my face the whole time i was there and the last time i went i truly felt like a ghost. I felt like i was haunting that place. I’d sit out there whittling while i imagined what we’d be up to if we hadnt both died. Those two were so in love. I slowly started separating myself from him. The guy who belonged with her. It eventually became more of me watching us than me being part of it. I got into the habit of bringing flowers I’d find to leave on the stone guarded heart. I knew how much you loved flowers. A fun loving hippie girl isnt complete without flowers. They were hard to find too. All the more satisfying when i did so i could go back and show you. Youd wear them behind your ear and we’d keep on talking. It seems a little crazy when you think about it. Have i lost my mind? Doubt it. I’m not more sane now than i was before. At least this way i don’t have to feel anything but joy. I’d finish my time by hugging the tree that bears our initials. It felt like i was hugging you sometimes. As i finished up my totem, i left it there to have some sort of physical embodiment of it all. We have to say goodbye at some point tho don’t we? Whether its after a few days, months, years, or when we die. We say goodbye eventually. That much is inevitable. Its a shame ours was so soon. i feel better dealing with it this way. But my soul will never forget. It can’t because it sits out there playing with you as if none of this had ever happened. I’ll probably tend to the site for a while, during the weekends so i can enjoy the river before it gets cold. I can rest easy knowing part of me is out there with you.

39.05739° N, 77.32746° W

[shotofire]

Ethereal

Levi Ackerman x F!Reader

(Requested) I changed a small part of it, I hope you don’t mind anon.

Overview: Levi has an s/o who works at a flower shop

Warnings: Cursing, smut mention, age gap (legal of course), mentions of death

Season: Not specified, but I imagine it in the 1-2 range

-

Most knew about the flower shop by the name of Sweet Stems within the walls of Rose. It’s funny, really, to have that kind of shop behind a wall with the same name as a flower. It’s been in the same spot for years, selling the most vibrant and smell good flowers anyone has ever encountered. Business hasn’t been slow since day one, everyone adored the place.

Women grew up dreaming a boy would buy them beautiful flowers from the shop. It’s a vibrant spot on a world of grey and fear, and everyone wants a peice of it. Most felt as if they’ve stepped into another world once they’ve gone in, and that’s why Levi Ackerman loves it so much. He’ll sneak off during his free time just to smell the flowers and bask in their energy.

Sometimes Levi can’t stop himself from buying a bouquet, falling in love with how it makes him feel. His favorite are the purple lavender flowers, the smell reminds him of his mother. It brings him comfort and warmth to have them around, to smell them whenever his mind is struggling.

Everytime he goes it’s the same sweet old lady standing behind the counter with a smile. She has a strong liking for Levi, he reminds her of someone she once knew in her younger years. “My granddaughter is going to start helping me out, so I won’t always be here.” She’d said to him one day, but he didn’t think much into it. He assumed it would be a child trying to make extra money for toys.

Levi was pleasantly surprised when a beautiful women approached him on his next visit, asking him if he was in need of assistance. Honestly, calling the girl beautiful is an understatement. She’s absolutely breathtaking, and had Levi at a loss for words. Her eyes sparkled when she spoke, and a smile was on her face. “Are you a regular?” She’d asked once he’d come back a week later, buying the same lavender flowers as before. “Somewhat.”

There’s no denying the mans attractiveness. Even with the stone cold expression she can feel his warmth within. “I’m y/n, possibly the new store owner.” Her hand was held out for him to take, and he accepts it. “I’m Levi.” “Oh, my grandmother has told me about you,” her eyes light up, “she said that you’re a kind soul.” No one has ever referred to him as that, most found him extremely intimidating. It was refreshing to know someone didn’t see him that way.

Visit after visit Levi began talking to her more. Conversation wasn’t his strong suit, but her personality made it easy. Everything he said, even the most random things, somehow she could say something about it. “How come you only buy Lavender?” She’d asked him as he was checking out, and he froze up. The old women had never asked him that so he assumed the question would never come up.

She saw the way his body stiffened and immediately regretted asking. “I, um, i’m s-sorry, it’s none of my business. I just didn’t know if you were buying them for a possible girlfriend or something-“”They remind me of my mother.” He cut her off from her rambling. “She died when I was really young and the smell makes me remember things about her that age has taken away from me,” there’s a small smile on his face. As if talking about it somewhat makes him feel better. “That’s wonderful.”

There was no clarification of when the relationship started. Maybe it was when she’d closed up the shop and he’d kissed her under the moonlight. Or maybe it was in her bedroom when he’d stripped her bare and kissed every inch of her skin. There’s no denying they are a couple, and Levi is madly in love. He noticed early on that her smell changed with the day. Sometimes she’d smell of lily’s, violet’s, or tulips, but his favorite on her is orchids.

Being with someone in the survey corps is hard on the young girl, even if many have said Levi is the worlds strongest soldier. She’s witnessed the titans unruly actions and it scared her senseless. But it was too late to turn back, her heart was already smitten with his. Months went by of laughter and kissing, and getting to know one another.

Levi didn’t like talking about his profession, it was too dark for her light heart. She made him feel as if nothing bad could happen as long as he is with her. It didn’t take much convincing for her to get him to occupany her on a picnic. They laid there in a field of flowers, looking up at the clouds. “That one looks like a elephant,” she says, her eyes doing the beautiful sparkle that he loves. Seeing her like this made him feel all tingly.

“You’re ethereal.” Her head turned quickly to him, seeing the pure adoration in his face. “T-Thank you.” He always knew how to have her stumbling over her words. They stayed like that for a moment, looking into each other’s eyes. Levi was first to break the silence, “I love you.” That isn’t something he just says, honestly he doesn’t think he’s ever said it. Not even to his mother, not that he can remember. “I love you,” she said back with a growing blush. His lips are quick to attack to hers under the warmth of the sun.

His comrades noticed his growing absences. It’s not like the man needs training, he’s strong and skilled beyond most. Yet they still found it odd and wondered where he always ran off to. “Where are you going?” Hange asked while she stepped infront of him, blocking his way out. “Don’t worry about it.” He slipped underneath her arm that was pressed against the wall next to her, running off before he could be stopped.

“He wouldn’t tell me!” Hange says in a frustrated tone, hands flying in the air. Erwin is determined to know where the man is running off to just like Hange. “What if we followed him?” Hange asks. The commander knows it’s a total invasion of privacy, but he can’t help himself. And even if he doesn’t follow through Hange is going to anyway.

It’s a beautiful day and the sky is clearer than it’s been in weeks. As soon as Levi saw the bright sun above he knew it’s a perfect time to see y/n. It’s a Sunday so the shop is usually closed, so he’ll walk to her home only a block away.

You’d think the worlds strongest soldier might notice a pair of nosey friends following him. But his mind is set on her, and what’s infront of him. Hange and Erwin are close behind, but not too close, making sure to keep their distance as best as possible. They hide behind corners a few times to let Levi get more ahead.

The walk began to feel like forever to the prying two, then Levi begins to approach a small home decorated in vines and flowers. It looks straight out of a fantasy book, definitely not this mans type of scene. He looks out of place standing infront with a black jacket on his upper half and dark brown pants on his lower.

Levi knocks on the wooden door and Hange doesn’t even blink as she waits for it to open. She literally lets out the loudest gasp that has anyone nearby turning their heads to look. Erwin is about to thump the back of her head but he’s soon left speechless as well. The door has opened, and the beautiful girl Levi has grown so fond of wraps her arms around his neck and presses a kiss to his lips.

“There’s no fucking way,” Hange says as she rubs her eyes. “I’m dreaming right? I’m going to wake up soon.” She keeps letting out random phrases. Erwin is surprised too considering all his years he’s known the man. At this point the commander wasn’t even sure if Levi was interested in girls, or let alone people.

“She’s beautiful,” Hange says while inching closer. Erwin grabs her shoulders and pulls her back, “Remember we are not supposed to be here.” He can definitely agree that she’s beautiful, and obviously a bit younger than the captain. He wondered how a girl like her had even met Levi.

Hange can’t help but giggle at the sight of thr girl kissing Levi’s cheek as heat rises to his face. “Oh my gosh- he’s blushing! Have you ever seen Levi have that look on his face?” “I definitely have not.” The comrad’s felt as if they are looking at a whole different person. In a way they were, this is a different side of Levi that only comes out for y/n.

“I want to go say something, I don’t even care if it pisses him off,” Hange says and she moves too quickly for Erwin to stop her. “Hange, no! Fucking shit.” Shes next to the couple in an instant and Levi almost faints when he sees his friends face. “What the hell are you doing here?” Is the first thing he asks, with a wildly confused look in his eyes.

The beautiful mystery girl, to Hange and Erwin, looks at the stranger with equal confusion. She didn’t know of Levi’s comrades or even how living situations worked. “Erwin and I,” Hange motions to the commanders frame peaking around a nearby corner, “wanted to see where you’ve been sneaking off to for months, and now we know.” “So you guys invaded my privacy?”

Hange rolls her eyes at him instantly, “Whatever, we just wanted to make sure you weren’t doing some weird stuff.” She turns her attention to the unnamed person before her, “I’m Hange, a comrad of Levi’s, nice to meet you!” “I’m y/n.” The two shake hands. “And what are you to dear, sweet little Levi?” It takes everything in him to not yell at Hange to leave right now. “I, um, i’m, his girl- well-“ “She’s my girlfriend, so please don’t scare her off.” Weight comes off the girls shoulders as Levi answers for her.

As said before, the relationship has never been established. It hasn’t even been labeled. So to be asking her that infront of Levi she wasn’t too sure what to say. But Levi calling her his girlfriend makes her feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside. “Well i’ve gotten all the info I need, carry one.” Y/n definitely is beyond confused with what’s happening, and not used to Hange’s odd personality.

Before Hange can say anything else, or Erwin decides to but in, Levi is pushing y/n inside her home and slamming the door behind him. “Wha-“”Anywhere we go today my nosey comrades are going to follow,” there’s a dark look on his face, the same one he has that makes her knees weak, “so we are stuck inside.” Maybe it’s the annoyance with Hange and Erwin, or the fact that she looks stunning right now... little bit of both... but Levi just wants to get his hands on her.

His hands rest on her waist and she shivers, the slightlest touch feeling like waves. One hand trails up her waist, fingers pressing to the delicate skin of her neck. “I’m sorry they interrupted our day. Can I make it up to you?” She nods frantically and he smirks, “Use your words.” “Yes, please.” He immediately connects his lips to hers softly, slowly beginning to lead to her bedroom.

Today she smells of orchids.

[jamespotterthefirst]

Prelude (Ethan x f!MC)

Book: Open Heart, Book 1 Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 1.5 K Premise: Three moments leading up to their fateful meeting.

Author’s Note: In which I try to explain why MC didn’t know what Ethan, her medical hero, looked like. Also, my (late) fic for the book 1 replay. Thank you @aestheticartsx​ for pre-reading!

Three.

Harper frowns down at the file in her hand, her sharp gaze burning into the collated papers as though coercing them to solve their dilemma once and for all. From the end of the table, Cyrus lets out an inpatient sigh.

“It's very simple, Harper,” he drones. Ethan's fists clench reflexively at his sides, urging to remind Cyrus that Harper is the chief now and warrants more respect than his insufferable tone is offering. “The last spot should go to the candidate from Harvard. We are the best hospital on the east coast, after all. It only makes sense.”

Harper looks unconvinced and still, her pensive expression remains fixed in the file.

“An ivy league degree does not a good doctor make,” Naveen adds sagely into the ensuing silence. His smile is placid enough but Ethan knows the older doctor well enough to hear the warning edge in his voice. Evidently, even Naveen disapproves of Cyrus's lack of respect for their new chief.

Cyrus scoffs.

“And if you need further proof of that, Doctor Cyrus,” Ethan begins dryly, eyes boring into him. “Then look no further than your side of the conference table.”

A few attendings—at least the ones who have become increasingly tired of Cyrus's boastful proclamations about his alma mater—laugh quietly at the jab. Cyrus splutters, his face an unpleasant shade of red as he glares daggers at Ethan.

“This candidate,” Harper says at last, unaware or uncaring of what she had just interrupted. Her two lone words are enough to command the room's attention at once, but her hazel eyes are on Ethan. “You're convinced she's the best fit for Edenbrook?”

Ethan meets her eye and pauses.

It's the first time they look at each other directly since he ended their relationship two weeks prior. Despite the brief time apart and an unshakeable resolve to be professional, his stomach sinks heavy, like a stone.

Harper looks as graceful and dignified as ever, keeping every emotion in check. Yet, as she holds his gaze, Ethan can see a small flicker or sadness and his stomach twists with guilt.

“I'm positive, Chief Emery,” Ethan responds. “This candidate exhibits the type of potential we look for at Edenbrook.”

The use of her new title seems to snap Harper out of a reverie.

“She graduated top of her class and ranked in the top percent among our chosen cohort of interns,” Ethan continues. “I've also looked into her research and it's among the most promising I've seen. I recommend her without reservations.”

With a single nod and a sense of finality, Harper closes the file.

“Then it's settled. We have our last intern.”

“You're joking, Harper,” Cyrus blurts out, incensed. “We're giving a coveted spot to the candidate from UCLA?”

He says the name of the school with so much derision, Ethan feels his ears flare up.

“That Doctor Ayala?” Cyrus continues.

“Doctor Allende,” Ethan corrects, jaw clenched.

“Don't we have enough charity cases in the cohort already? This is token—”

But the vitriol is quickly interrupted by several things happening at once: Ethan darting forward, fists ready; a startled, collective gasp from the other attendings; Naveen, quietly intercepting Ethan and halting his steps with a steady hand, a feat that is impressive for a man much older and shorter; and Harper, also on her feet, directing a disgusted look at Cyrus she doesn’t bother to disguise behind professionalism.

“I would think very carefully about finishing that sentence if I were you, Doctor Cyrus,” she says, her voice low but with the impact of a clashing gavel. “And I ask that you address me as Chief Emery moving forward.”

Two.

“If you end up marrying someone with a Boston accent,” Laurel is saying with a devilish grin. “I will never be able to keep a straight face when they talk. Pahk the cah in Hahvahd Yahd.”

Her older sister peers at Lilac over the flaps of an open cardboard box, the glint in her eye growing wickeder still. “Imagine what they’d sound like in bed. You're so fucking gawgeous, dawctaw—”

Before her sister can escalate that impression into disturbing territory, Lilac silences her with a well-aimed pillow. It succeeds in hitting Laurel straight in the face but also in turning her laughter into a cackle.

“Are you going to help me pack or not?” Lilac says sternly, though the effect is entirely ruined by the smile that manages to break through.

Laurel raises her hands in defeat and returns to packing Lilac's books neatly. They work in companionable silence for a few minutes with nothing but their favorite music blaring from the speakers of Lilac's phone.

“Is this the book?” her sister asks suddenly, turning a worn textbook in her hands and studying it closely. “The one written by your medical crush?”

For some inexplicable reason, Lilac feels her face flare with heat. “He's not my crush.”

“You just worship the ground he walks on,” her sister returns, flipping through Diagnostic Principles. “Though, you're right. In order to have a crush you'd need to know what he looks like.”

Laurel reaches the back cover, frowning. “Why wouldn't he add an author picture?”

Lilac says nothing, biting the inside of her cheek. She can't blame her sister for being curious and a bit disappointed at the lack of visual representation. After all, Lilac had felt crestfallen when all she found in the author's information section was the green and blue Edenbrook logo.

“Maybe he's a private man and doesn't like his picture out in the world? Maybe he wants aspiring doctors to focus on his research and not his looks?”

“So he's either really hot or really ugly,” Laurel returns, unmoved by Lilac's impassioned speech. “Have you ever tried looking him up online?”

Lilac had been tempted many times, but she was fiercely adamant about keeping her medical hero a mystery outside of his work. It already felt invasive enough to track down his undergrad research and every other minor paper he'd ever written. When it came to Ethan Ramsey, Lilac had searched every corner of scholarly journals and databases, absorbing every piece of his work with an adoration that was already embarrassing enough.

Plus, she would never admit it out loud, but she was also afraid that knowing what the brilliant doctor looked like would somehow ruin him for her. Or at least, alter the image of him she had constructed in her head for so many years. It felt right to continue seeing Dr. Ramsey as the brilliant force that pushed her into her dream career and not as a definitive set of features.

“It doesn't matter what he looks like. He's the best and I'm going there to learn from him, not to judge his appearance.”

“I'm Googling him,” Laurel announces, already typing furiously into her phone. After a few seconds, her phone returns results and her eyebrows shoot up, staying suspended for longer than normal.

“What?” Lilac asks despite herself.

“Wow.”

“Wow what?”

“Just… wow.” Laurel stares down at the screen with such awestruck amazement that Lilac feels a powerful wave of curiosity. “He’s shirtless in some of these.”

“What?” Lilac yelps, feeling her face flare up at once. 

“Yeah, apparently you’re not his only fan. Tons of people have taken his picture.” Her sister seems to blink out of a trance, turning the screen toward Lilac. “Here, see for your—”

But Lilac turns her gaze away almost out of reflex.

“No!” 

The word comes out far more impassioned than Lilac intended. Still, she resolutely turns her head. “That feels...invasive, somehow?”

“Come on—”

“I'm serious, Lau. I don't want to see. I'm already nervous enough about this whole thing without having to worry about this wow-worthy revelation. And besides, taking someone’s shirtless picture without their consent and posting it online is already bad enough. It feels wrong supporting that.”

Laurel rolls her eyes.

“I'm going to see him in less than a week anyway. With clothes. In a professional setting. As I should. If I waited all these years, I can wait that long.”

A knowing, devious sort of smile pulls at her sister's face. She mumbles something over the music and Lilac can swear it sounds oddly like: “...worth the wait.”

One.

Ethan should have taken the broken and sputtering coffee machine in his apartment as an omen. His morning definitely declined from then on, starting with gridlock traffic and ending with an infuriatingly long line at his favorite coffee place.

The ultimate lack of coffee is probably his fault because Ethan had spent too much time deliberating whether or not he wanted to go with store bought coffee on what promised to be a grueling day. When he had finally made up his mind, however, the line was already out the door.

Irritated and caffeine deprived, he drives back to Edenbrook.

“You're earlier than we agreed,” Naveen says as soon as Ethan accepts his incoming call. “What was the point of rearranging the whole schedule if you were going to come in when you pleased anyway?”

“I'm not even through the gates yet. What are you spying on me?”

“No need. You forget how predictable you are.”

Naveen chuckles as he says this which eases some of Ethan's irritation. The older doctor had purposely scheduled him later in the day to give him some peace on the first day of the new intern cohort.

Naturally, Ethan arrived several hours early, as per his custom.

“Or maybe you know me too well by now.”

Naveen's benevolent laughter turns into a dry but lingering cough on the other end of the line. Instantly, Ethan's insides freeze over, his stomach sinking unpleasantly.

He opens his mouth to question his mentor about this persisting symptom, when sheer reflex prompts him to stomp on the breaks so suddenly, his body jerks forward then slams against his seat.

“Shit.”

Something—or rather someone— had crossed the parking lot road right in front of his car, standing mere inches away from his front bumper.

“Ethan?” Naveen asks through the speaker.

When Ethan recovers and regains movement of his arms and legs, he feels the spike of adrenaline give way to pure annoyance.

The offending pedestrian is a young brunette clad in blue scrubs, a medical intern by the looks of it. She stands there in the middle of the road, her mouth hanging open in a way that would have been comical to Ethan if he wasn't so irritated.

They stare at one another, though Ethan is convinced she can't see much through the tinted glass.

Then, right before his eyes, she seems to recover from the shock. Drawing herself to her full height, she glares at Ethan. At least, he thinks she's glaring through the dark lenses of her sunglasses.

Ethan almost scoffs.

She has the audacity to be angry when she was the one who made the rookie mistake of aimlessly crossing in front of him?

Who the hell does she think she is?

“Asshole,” she mutters, the word quite audible through his windows.

Before a stunned Ethan can respond, she turns on her heel and rushes toward the hospital, a curtain of dark hair dancing behind her.

“What was that?” Naveen asks, still on the call.

“I hate interns,” Ethan responds much to the older doctor's amusement.

Bonus:

Author’s Note: In other words, my MC was late to her orientation because of Ethan and that’s how she met him in the waiting room lol. Thank you so much for reading! 

*Tagging Separately 

[instasiswetrust]

"Would you just listen to me for one fucking minute?!"

With a sigh, Steve stops his hasty ascent of the stone steps that lead to the church, keeping his back to Billy even as he hears footsteps come up behind him. He either deals with this right now, or he risks Billy following him all the way to the church and he truly doesn't think he can keep his composure if he has to put up with the blonde while his little brother gets married.

Further ahead in the path, Dustin turns his head back to throw him an inquisitive glance, briefly ignoring the bustle of conversation the Party has kept up. He's looking sharp in his white suit and pressed blue shirt, his mess of curls tied up into a short ponytail at the base of his neck. So grown up, already twenty-two, and yet Steve cannot help but see the little fourteen-year-old who used to drag him to the beach so they could search for crabs and snails between the rocks.

Steve shakes his head briefly, motioning for him to go on. It wouldn't do for the groom to be late to his own wedding after all.

Once he's sure all the members of the Party - including Max and Jane - are far away enough that they couldn't hear him even if they tried, he turns to face Billy. He's exhausted, the past three days having taken a toll on him atop his stress over the financial situation of the Villa, and he's sure it must reflect on his face because hesitation makes itself known on Billy's features.

"What more can you say, Billy? Whatever we had, it died that summer of '85 when you didn't think it important to let me know you were engaged before I let you into my bed. Nothing will change what has already happened."

If he has to be honest about this, Steve didn't want to talk at all about the things they had gone through. Even now, eight years after the fact, the ache still felt raw in his chest exactly the same way it had that morning when he had found out. He doesn't think he ever truly got over it, not properly, at least. Ignoring the pain, putting other worries first and foremost, it had helped sure but never got rid of the root of that pain.

But all that was history now. All their cards had been played, no more tricks under their sleeves, no more words left to say. So, he didn't understand what more Billy thought he could say.

Still, he waited, arms wrapped around himself as he stared into Billy's ice blue eyes.

"I know all that, Steve. I'm not here to try and change your mind but trust me when I say that I've regretted it each day that I have been alive ever since I left Scopello that morning." There's nothing but honesty in his voice and Steve hates that despite the hurt he can't help but admit that age has treated Billy well. "But I came back. I called Neil, told him to forget the engagement, that I wasn't coming back, and I came back to Scopello three days later. Only to find that you had already left with another guy."

That gives Steve pause, his heart stuttering in his chest. "You came?"

"I did but I left that same day. It made me angry when the old lady at the bar told me. I felt like I had been stupid, that there was no way you meant what you had said to me if you could move on that quickly." Billy chuckles softly but the twist of his lips turns into a grimace not soon after. "It took me a while to realize that I had no right to be angry at you when I was the one who had fucked up in the first place. So, I went back home and married the girl that Neil had set up for me."

"Ah, so you did marry her." He could almost feel it when his heart fell to his feet, that small spark of hope he harbored fizzling out in a split second. It was only thanks to eight years of customer service experience that he managed to force his features into one of detached politeness. Billy didn't need to know how much he had hurt him. "Congratulations are in order then. I'm sure Mrs. Hargrove is lovely."

Do you kiss her the way you used to kiss me?

Do you make her feel safe in your arms the way you used to do with me?

Have you given yourself to her completely the way you gave yourself to me on that fateful summer night?

But there's no way Steve could ask any of that. No. He had to put the broken pieces of his heart back together, bury all that pain back where he didn't have to think about it, and smile. It was Dustin's day. He should focus on that instead.

"Fascinating conversation. Now if you're done, I have to leave. Dustin is probably losing his head over my whereabouts."

Out of the corner of his eye he sees Billy's face shift, his arm extending as if he was about to prevent Steve from getting away. And Steve can’t let him do that. Not right now. Because he knows that if he were to see any shred of pity in Billy’s eyes, he wouldn’t be able to take it. No, he couldn’t allow that.

So, he sidesteps the attempt and decidedly makes his way up the steps that lead to the church, quicker than he usually would. He was running away from Billy like a teenage girl with her heart broken and yet he refused to feel bad for doing it. Steve won’t break down crying over his ex on his little brother’s wedding day. That’s a level of tacky he refuses to lower himself to.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Fade

CW: Stab wound, descriptions of wound-packing and stitches, brief reference to child abuse, blood, passing out, talk of going into shock

Follow-up to Jake Being Stabbed

Everything smells like blood.

The smell of it is thick and sticks to the inside of his nose, coats his tongue with the memory of copper-salt-sweet, like when he lost a tooth as a kid by pulling it out, too impatient to wait. Every breath comes with an answering flush of agony radiating from the blurry handle he can see sticking out of his shoulder, he feels sick with pain down to his fingertips, out through his chest.

His heart beats in hammers, working too hard to keep pushing blood that doesn’t want to stay inside him.

His eyes are on the ceiling fan spinning lazily above his head. He needs to change those light bulbs, he thinks. Soon.

“Ne dvigaytes', Misha,” Antoni says, leaning over him, shaggy hair over distant dark brown eyes. Whatever Antoni sees, it’s far, far away from him. But his fingers move quickly, don’t press too hard. “Eto budet bol'no.”

Bol’no. Jake knows that one.

“H-hurt,” He repeats, eyebrows furrowing a little. The ceiling fan is starting to make him feel dizzy.

Or maybe that’s the blood loss.

“Hurt... p-painfully.”

“Da,” Antoni murmurs, emotionless, flat as the side of the knife, and Jake turns his head a little - oh, the world spins when he does that - and sees Antoni’s long fingers closing around the handle of the knife.

“Shit,” Jake whispers, realizing a half-second too late - or early, it doesn’t fucking matter, does it? - what Antoni is about to do. “Wait, Ant, don’t-”

“Nyet doktora, nyet bol’nitsy,” Antoni whispers. “Tol'ko brat'ya.”

“Oh, fuck, no.” Jake allows himself the whimper that escapes without his consent, he tells himself he allows it. His uninjured arm tenses as he closes his hand into a fist, closes his eyes, tries to shut out his knowledge. “Antoni, it’s gonna-... I’ll fucking b-bleed out-”

“Nyet,” Antoni mutters. “Etot byl slishkom napugan chtoby ubit' tebya, ya dumayu.” He pauses, and Jake cracks an eyelid to see Antoni holding out a cooking spoon, the handle horizontal in front of his face. “Bite down,” Antoni says in English, his accent heavier than Jake has ever heard.

But... he thinks... Chris has probably heard him speak like this.

He opens his mouth, obedient and terrified, and the wooden tastes odd against his tongue as he closes his teeth around it. 

“This will hurt,” Antoni says, and picks up the towel again, hovering it over the knife he is gripped tightly onto. “Very much. Bite down.”

He pulls the knife out of Jake’s shoulder in one smooth motion.

Jake’s back arches off the floor, his head jammed back against the tile, as he screams around the spoon, veins standing out in his throat. Antoni jams the towel against the wound in nearly the same second the knife exits and the sharp pain of the blade is replaced by the overwhelming throb of cloth being forced not on but in to the bloodied gash.

Jake keeps screaming, eyes wide open now, vision white and gray and sparking every color there is and several he’s pretty sure he can’t usually see, as Antoni packs the wound with careful, precise, efficient speed.

“At first I think it go through,” Antoni says, almost idly, as if this is nothing more than the average Saturday night for him. “But I see now is blood from front pooling on floor. A good sign. Tonight we fail. What if you leave fingerprints, hm? What then?”

Jake’s screams taper off into grunts, forcing air through his nose, his hand in a fist beating ineffectually against the floor just to have something to do. He’s going to black out. He’s going to black out. He’s going to-

“Yeshche raz, Misha.”

Antoni pushes the cloth viciously further into the wound and Jake’s world goes dark.

-

He swims up from darkness to pain he can’t understand, that his mind simply sets aside and refuses to acknowledge. His shoulder burns like it’s being slowly torn off of his body and he whines, eyes still closed, afraid of the light that turns the backs of his eyelids red. 

It was bound to happen eventually. 

He’d gotten worse and worse.

They didn’t leave in time.

They can go now, though. Right? This will be enough, right? He shudders as his arm is jostled a little, tears running from the corners of his eyes to soak into the short hair by his ears, run further, drip to mix with the blood on the floor below.

This has to be enough to be worth leaving for good this time, right?

“Mom-... fuck, Mom, y-you okay? Shit, shit, h-hurts, Mom, we gotta go, we gotta go-... he’s gonna kill you-”

“Sssshhhh,” She whispers, running her fingers through his hair. Her voice is deeper, but he knows who it is, then. Where he is. When he is. “It’s okay, Jake. I’ve got you. Dr. Masood is here. It’s okay.”

Jake’s eyes open and her brown hair swings around, in waves, she must’ve taken her braid out before someone called her. Nat smiles down at him, concern written in the way her eyes travel over his face, in the tightness of her jaw and the way the lines of her face stand out more than ever, etched in stone. 

“Nat-... h-he didn’t do it on p-purpose, he thought-”

“I know,” Nat says, softly. There’s a spike of pain and Jake turns his head to see the flash of light off a thin needle and unmistakable stiff black thread. He stares at it, barely able to comprehend what’s happening.

Dr. Masood doesn’t look at him. He is far to focused on stitching closed Jake’s shoulder. His own lips are a thin line, and there is nothing but determination in his dark eyes, in the swift motions of his hands, expert, unshaking. 

“Chris told me,” Nat says, running fingers through his hair again, reaching to gently turn his eyes back to her. “That, um, he said his name is Jameson... thought you were someone else. I don’t care about that right now. Just look at me, Jake. You’re not going to bleed out, I don’t think, but you sure gave us a fright.”

“All... all in a day’s work,” Jake says hoarsely, and Nat smiles for him, shaking her head slightly. He blinks a few times - the sharp pain of the stitches is... less present, somehow. Less insistent. He feels a little distant from it, drifting somewhere just beside his own body, not really inside it.

That’s probably not good.

“Where-... where’s... Chris, Ant, everybody-...” He trails off, unable to find the energy to keep asking.

“Chris is in your room with Kauri,” Nat answers, reaching over to take his good hand, right hand, his uninjured arm, closing her fingers around his. He can barely feel her grip. “Ant... I don’t know. I think in the bathroom upstairs. Everyone else is in their rooms.”

“Kauri.” Jake tries to move, and then groans and collapses back to the floor again. “Kauri, shit, he must’ve come back and seen-”

“Kauri called me,” Nat says quietly, evenly. Her voice is careful, not exactly emotionless but not shaking, either. There’s nothing but warmth and certainty there, and Jake lets himself rest in it. “He wasn’t making much sense, and I got here as fast as I could. Chris filled me in once I did. He was-... having some trouble, but he got the words out. Dr. Masood is going to get you sewn up and stabilized.”

“Antoni did excellent work packing the wound,” The doctor is murmuring to himself. “Quality work. Fresh clean cloth, not sterile but better than anything else in your average household... this is shockingly clean for a stab wound, the assailant missed major... everything, really, what absolute good fortune-”

“Dr. Masood?” Nat raises her eyes, and the doctor pauses in his meticulous work to look at her. “His fingers are cold.”

“Numb,” Jake corrects her in a mumble.

“What?” Dr. Masood’s eyes move to Jake, now, but there is no change in his expression of focused scrutiny. 

“M’fingers... numb. Can’t really feel Nat’s hand.”

“Hm.” Dr. Masood goes back to work. Jake thinks he’s working more quickly now. “Natalie, what is Jakob’s blood type?”

“Uh...”

“O positive,” Jake manages. He remembers having to know this for the hospital as a kid. “’M O positive.”

“Lucky you,” Dr. Masood says quietly, and then sits back on his heels, looking up at Nat. Looking at him to jake feels like looking through a campfire, everything wavy and woozy and strange. He feels drunk, and cold. And like he’s looking at himself from across the room. 

He tries to waggle his fingers in a wave. Hey, me.

Dr. Masood is frowning now. “Go to my car and bring in the cooler you find there. It’s not too large, it shouldn’t be hard to carry.”

Oh, the white around his eyes is back, pushing in on his vision, wiping it clean. White and gray and black and red.

What’s red and black and white all over-

“Fuck,” Jake whispers. “Chris is... gonna freak out.”

“Too late for that,” Nat says, matter-of-fact. “We can handle that later. Doctor Masood, why-”

“Jakob needs blood,” Dr. Masood says simply. “And I have been told there will be no visit to a hospital. I can provide some care here. Call your friend who does EMT work, they will be better at emergency stabilization than I am.”

“They might be busy-”

“Then tell them to stop being busy. Jakob Stanton needs blood.” Dr. Masood’s eyes are on Jake’s face again, and his lips thin even more. “I do believe he needs it right now.”

Jake stares back at the doctor’s wavy, shivering face until his vision fades to black.

-

@astrobly @finder-of-rings @whump-tr0pes @raigash @moose-teeth @orchidscript @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @eatyourdamnpears @boxboysandotherwhump @vickytokio @whumpfigure @outofangband @downriver914 @justabitofwhump @thehopelessopus @butwhatifyouwrite @yet-another-heathen @nonsensical-whump @newandfiguringitout @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whumpiary @orchidscript @outofangband @endless-whump