#thank you all for the love on fishing twine

[stil-lindigo]

hook, line and sinker.

--

sequel to fishing twine. The end of the story of the fisherwoman and her sea monster girlfriend.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dirty Work 40

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: Feel very off today IDK.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

“Please, please,” you puff, reaching between your legs, “please, I can’t–”

Your words are wobbly and loose, your legs too. As you touch Loki’s chin, you feel the slickness smeared across it. He only nuzzles further into you as your thighs twitch around him. You choke and beg through your shallow breaths.

He hums into you, reaching around to snatch your hand, pulling your arm behind your back. You whimper, wavering on your feet. Before you can lose your balance, he takes your other hand, guiding it alongside your other, locking both against your lower back.

He moans as he drinks you up. You put your feet flat and shake as another wave crashes down on you, the water slakes over you, the humid air adding to the sweat beading over your skin. You cum again and again and again. Each time, he grows more devoted to his task, twining your nerves together until you’re wrought.

Your leg buckles and gives. He releases your hands, once more grabbing you by the hips and holds you up. He eases you down slowly as you shake weakly. Lower and lower, he keeps your ass in the air as you drop down on your hands and knees. You’re senseless and lost in the ravages of pleasure.

When you come again, all your strength drains from you. You can’t take anymore. He lets you go as you collapse onto the porcelain and groan. He drags his hands down your legs as you roll onto your side and heave. He snickers and traces up your arm.

“You’ve been very good, pet,” he growls and stands, stepping over you as he pushes the door open.

He leaves you there, the door open as the shower continues to pour down on you. You catch your breath but can’t move, not right away. You’re so very tired. Worn out by more than his unprecedented attention but by everything. The day seeps back into your mind and coils your muscles tight.

You get one knee under you, then the other. You climb to your feet and shut the faucet off. You emerge and stumble, reaching for a towel from the rack. You wrap yourself in the fluffy cotton and look at the open door. You hobble towards it, finding Loki… Mr. Laufeyson in your bed. He stretches out, his arms bent behind his head, as his nakedness is concealed only by the blanket folded at his waist.

You turn off the bathroom light and cross to the bed. You flinch as you sit, swollen and oversensitive. You dry yourself off stiffly and stare at the wall. The glow slowly fades and you’re left dull and worn. That’s all this will ever be. You have your use and when he doesn’t need you, you are just there.

You stand and drape the towel over the wooden arm of the sofa. You look around, searching. You pad along to the closet and fold the door back. There’s your stuff. You fish out a night gown and return to the bed. You wonder why he’s still there.

“I’ll stay,” he reaches to rub the silk between his fingers, “in case… my brother thinks to attempt another coup.”

“Oh, thanks,” you utter, refusing to look at him. “Would you like the light off?”

He takes a breath, “ah, I should’ve brought a book. You always do enjoy it when I read to you.”

“It’s okay,” you assure him, “the light?”

“Off, is fine,” he replies evenly.

You flip off the lamp and lower yourself down. You keep your back to him, hand clinging to the edge of the mattress as you fight to keep your breath steady. You just want to cry. You feel so heavy but flat. As if you’ve been run over.

“Pet��” he says gently. You don’t answer as you stay as you are, right at the very edge, making yourself as small as possible. “Suppose you are tired…” he mulls quietly, “yes, you should rest.” He flutters his fingers against your waist, “as should I.”

He shifts behind you and brings himself closer, looping his arm around your stomach. He urges you back, putting you flush to him as you grasp slips from the mattress. He nuzzles your crown and his hot breath fans across your scalp. He sighs and embraces you tighter.

“I’m certain I did little to lessen your fatigue,” he snickers, “though I don’t think you will complain. Surely, you didn't sound unhappy at all.”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson,” you agree.

You feel him tense and he puffs a longer breath into your hair. He slackens his hold on you but doesn’t draw away. He hums, “sweet dreams, pet.”

✨

You sway between bouts of dull sleep that makes your head ache and hollow restlessness that has you squirming against the body behind you. Mr. Laufeyson sleeps undisturbed by your fidgeting, much to your relief. That last thing you need is him waking up unhappy.

When at last he wakes, he does not free you. He pushes you onto your back and covers your mouth with his. He kisses you until you can’t breathe and when he pulls away, he gazes down at you. You just look back at him emptily. He frames your chin and tries again. This time, your cheeks dimple as you attempt a smile.

He recoils and sits up, putting his back to you. You think he’s displeased but you can’t tell. He can seem so when he’s thinking. What could he be agitated by anyway? You’ve only let him do what he wants.

He’s silent as he rises and dresses. You do the same, picking a plum skirt and a white blouse. You sit to pull on your stockings and catch Mr. Laufeyson watching you. His eyes crawl up from your leg to your face. He quickly turns away.

“I have some calls to make,” he takes his phone from the side table and brusquely marches to the doors.

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson,” you confirm.

He stops, his hand on the door handle and his head tilts. He seems about to say something before he rips the door back. He swallows loudly before he finds his voice, “my mother should have breakfast ready, you may join her.”

He leaves and the door closes a bit too harsh for your comfort. What now? What have you done? And what calls does he need to make? Perhaps he got one. Maybe she… No, don’t think about that. It doesn’t matter.

You go to check your reflection and tidy up. You peer around the room. You can’t stay in here. It just reminds you of last night and all your confusing thoughts. Not just thoughts, feelings.

You let yourself out and look up and down the hall. You go downstairs and wade through the quiet morning lull. Gertrude is in the kitchen chopping fruit with a large knife. You don’t know what to do, you think you’re too early.

A figure startles you as its shadow darkens over your shoulder. You shuffle aside and turn to face Odin as he enters, an empty cup in his hand. Gertrude comes forward to take it from him with a “good morning, sir.”

“Ah, there she is,” he greets you, “have you had a coffee? Tea?”

You shake your head, “no, but I…” You don’t want one. You don’t want anything but to be alone. You turn our head to look out the window at the rustling leaves brushing against the pane.

“I always found the morning air did me more good than caffeine,” Odin says, “would you like to see the gardens?”

“Sir, I–”

“Please, enough of that,” he waves away the formality, “you would do me a favour. It isn’t often I have someone to walk with me.”

You look at him and bite your lip, “of course.”

“Wonderful,” he proclaims and waves you ahead of him. You go around to the back entry way and stop by the door. You look at the mat then around. You don’t have any shoes.

“Ah, these will do,” he bends and pulls out a pair of plaid gray slippers, “a bit big but we can go slow.”

He turns them towards you and stands, waiting for you to step into them. He has a pair of leather shoes already on his feet. You thank him quietly as you slide your feet in. He opens the door for you, again letting you take the lead.

He points you across the veranda and offers his hand for you to descend the steps onto the stone path. You take each stair carefully, not wanting to lose the overly big slippers. As you get to the bottom, he rescinds his hand and offers an arm instead. You hook yours through his and let him guide you.

You quickly lose yourself in the scenery and your worries. The green leaves, the creeping vines, the fluttering petals. It’s all so beautiful. You don’t belong there.

You lower your head, as if just looking upon it all is a crime. You should be at home with your father. A pang jabs deep between your ribs as you think of him. You haven’t even called. You’ve barely given him a single thought. You must be as selfish as he always accused you.

You keep your feet moving in tandem with Odin’s but pay little attention to your path. He slows and stops you as a trickling plucks in the air. You peek up and see a large plinth with water flowing down the sides. A wonderful fountain in the midst of a square basin dug into the earth.

“I come here to think. Or not to,” he explains, gesturing you towards a carved wooden bench. You sidle along and sit and he lowers himself with you, his arm still entwined with yours. “I can see you are in need of both.”

You shake your head and focus on the flowing water. Your cheeks pinch and your lips tauten across your teeth. You can’t cry. Not in front of him.

“You are homesick?” He asks gently as he pats your arm with his free hand.

You nod.

“It is only human. I remember…” he leans against you, “when I was young, if ever I truly was, and I went away from home for school. I was so very excited. My whole life I’d been sheltered, eh. My mother had me close all the time. I went to a private school with walls that shut out the world. And after the years of what felt like a prison, I couldn’t wait to be away, to be free.

“And my first day alone, sitting in my dorm, so proud of the Hendrix poster on my wall, I broke down. I bawled for hours. I couldn’t stop. I’d never ever cried like that. But I went down to the RA and asked to use the phone. I called my mother and…” he snaps his fingers, “in an instant, no tears. And even when she hung up, I was alright, because I knew I could always call her back.”

You sniff, your eyes stinging. He doesn’t know you can’t call your father. You don’t want him to know that.

“You went to college?” You ask.

“Mm, yes, wasted a bit too much time there,” he sighs, “but you won’t fool me, girl. Who do you miss so much?”

You shrug and hang your head. You don’t even know if you really miss your father. You know he doesn’t miss you. All you know is he’s sick and you’re hear, sitting in this splendour, buying new dresses, and eating fine cheeses.

“My father…” you croak.

“Ah fathers, they are… complicated.”

You nod and gulp tightly. You lift your head and peek over at him, “he hates me.”

The words strangle you once they’re out. There it is. The truth. There’s no taking it back. 

It only took you thirty years to figure it out. You never had anything to compare it too but seeing Frigga dote on her children, just her asking you how you are, sparked the revelation. Then there was the other side, the dejection, the constant reminders that you are only good for what you can give, not what you are. That’s the only way your father ever treated you.

“I’m certain he doesn’t,” Odin coos gently.

“No, he does,” your lip downturns and tugs on your cheeks, “I always knew it but I wanted so desperately for him to love me that I… I told myself… that he did or that he could.”

You tear your arm free and stand. You hide your face as you try to smother the sudden eruption of sobs. What is wrong with you? You sweep away, facing the foliage at the other end of the fountain and heave, shoulders shaking.

“I’m so sorry,” you whimper. “I shouldn’t–”

“Do not apologise. I won’t accept it,” he insists as he rises and hovers close to you, “you’ve nothing to be sorry for. How you feel is not an offence.”

“I don’t want to go home,” you turn to him, “I want to disappear.”

His eyes sparkle and his features soften, “dear…”

“No, I do. I don’t want to be here or anywhere. I don’t belong. Not here, not there, not on this planet.”

“Oh my,” he puts his hands gently on your shoulders and angles you towards him, “you feel that way, but feelings are not always true.”

“It’s true. I’m… I’m just a maid. I’m not… I’m not…”

“You are exactly where you should be,” he says, “you are here with me.” He pulls you against him, trapping you in his arms. He brings a hand to the back of your head and cradles it, pressing your cheek to his shoulder. He rocks you gently, “you are safe and you are wanted.” He pets your hair as he holds you, “you are worthy.”

You bring your arms around, clinging to him, clinging to safety. You bury your face in the soft fabric of his shirt and weep. You weep until you're dizzy and raw and spent. And when you’re drained, you don’t let go. You can’t. 

You just want to stay here with the birds and the insects and the rippling fountain. You want to hide away in this menagerie and never come out. Yet you know you must. Not right now, not just yet. But eventually, you have to tuck it all away again and face the world.

For now, you’ll just let him hold you.

[hottpinkpenguin]

Why are you looking at me like that?" "I like to look at beautiful things

With Darkling?

The Most Beautiful Thing - Darkling X Fem!Reader

A/n: thank you for your patience anon! hope you love it :) Word Count: 2368 Warnings: none (not proofread)

“Genya, you cannot be serious.”

She smirked at your reflection in the mirror, a look of mock offense on her face.

“Y/n, whatever do you mean?” 

She stifled a laugh as she continued pinning up your hair, plunging a few more pins into your hair. Her levity made your mood more sour and resentful.

“I’m glad you’re having fun with this,” you spat back petulantly. “I am not wearing this.”

You gestured down at the emerald green gown that Genya had procured for the occasion. It was a beautiful piece of handiwork, no argument there, but on you? It looked preposterous. You’d never seen this much of your own skin before, and the thought of wearing this in front of Ravka’s nobility made your stomach turn. The neckline was low - dangerously low, you thought, as you tried to pull the watery-smooth silk higher up on your chest to cover more of your decolletage. The side slit running up your leg was so high it felt immodest. With a well-placed breeze or a misstep on the dance floor, you worried that all of Ravkan royalty would get a healthy look at your backside. 

“Oh, stop being so dramatic,” Genya chided you as she pulled out a strategic curl of hair from your hairline. “You look stunning and you know it. You’re just fishing for compliments.”

You shook your head earnestly and too violently for her tastes. She playfully smacked you on the shoulder, barking the command “hold still!” as she continued to fuss over your hair. 

“Genya, I am as serious as the day is long,” you murmured. She raised a skeptical eyebrow at you in the mirror as she twined another sprig of baby’s breath into the hair at the crown of your head. “This dress is something for the Queen, but me? Gods, what will people think?”

“They will think that you have an exquisite eye for fashion,” Genya replied smartly, her voice taking on a more serious tone. She was getting irritated, you realized, and maybe rightfully so. She had made the dress herself, after all. When you’d told her that Ivan, arguably the second-highest rank Grisha general in the Second Army, had invited you to the Ravkan Court’s Winter Ball, she had practically fainted with excitement. You, for your part, had been less than keen on the event. Your ridiculous appearance was confirming your worst fears true: you would be laughed at. Ivan, Zoya, Fedyor. Even Alina at this rate. You had no business in these fine silks and lavish stones. The closest you’d ever come to finery before was the red kefta you’d received as a Heartrender when you’d enlisted in the Second Army three years prior. 

“Y/n, look at me.” Genya grabbed the seat of your stool and swung you around, away from the mirror where you were chewing on your lip and staring at your own reflection. You hardly recognized yourself. The ridiculous worry that Ivan - your oldest friend - wouldn’t recognize you whipped across your mind like a strong breeze.

Genya grabbed either side of your cheeks, forcing you to meet her eyes. She was already dressed for the event, having devoted most of the afternoon to preening and fussing over you. Her gown was a soft, sunrise-pink with delicate lace layers that seemed to melt into her skin at the sleeves and hem. She had a small cluster of baby blue delphinium blossoms tucked above one of her ears, and her red hair was long and loose around her shoulders. She looked glorious - a picture of the gentleness of spring amidst a harsh Ravkan winter. Her beauty only sank you further into despair. Next to her, you looked gaudy. 

“You look incredible,” she said pointedly and firmly. “You feel ridiculous, but that is not the same thing as looking ridiculous.” 

Against your better judgment, you considered her point. It made sense, you decided, and you felt a bit of that fearful tension in your chest loosen. You took a shaky breath in, feeling the chain of coral and moonstone gems around your neck rise and fall with your inhales and exhales.

“Tonight is about allowing ourselves to enjoy what being a Grisha in the Second Army has to offer,” she continued, letting go of either side of your face. Her hands interlaced with yours in your lap. “Tonight is about fun.”

You continued to steady your breathing, slowly allowing yourself to realize how ridiculous you were acting. You’d gone into battles before, for God’s sake. You’d stopped the hearts of your enemies and restarted those of your friends. You’d trained and bled and almost died for Ravka dozens of times. And here you were, cowering in your dressing room, because you had to wear a dress? 

“I suppose you’re right,” you replied after a moment. Your voice quavered slightly, but you were beginning to feel yourself relax. As always, Genya proved herself to be the tonic that you needed.

“Good,” she concluded, rising from her chair with a chipper smile. “Now that I’ve saved you from your own self-consciousness, can we head to the throne room? We’re already late.” 

You glanced at the window outside, noticing that the horizon was turning from burgundy to a dark, plum-wine color. It was much later than you’d realized. Rising from the stool on shaky legs, you let Genya whisk you out of your chambers. The cool evening breeze running over your legs - an undeniable reminder of that precariously high slit - threatened to undo what little composure you’d managed to recover. You did your best to press the concern from your mind and followed along behind Genya. She practically danced down the candlelit guest corridor of the Royal Palace. You could hear the distant sound of a crowded party: an indistinct murmur of voices, clinking glass, and somewhere beneath that the delicate melody of a violin trio playing a jaunty waltz.

“Genya! There you are! We’ve been waiting!” David raised a hand in greeting, a broad smile breaking across his usually somber face. Genya playfully huffed as she skipped the last few steps, her fingers locking with his outreached hand. 

“It takes quite a while to prepare oneself for events like these, you know,” she replied cheekily to David. He smiled indulgently at her before nodding courteously in your direction. 

“Y/n, Ivan asked me to tell you to wait here. He forgot something in his quarters. He won’t be but a moment.” 

Your heart skipped a beat in your chest as you realized what David was asking. He wanted you to wait here, alone?

“Well, perhaps I can go in with you and we can all rendezvous with Ivan when he gets back?” you countered, falling into step at Genya’s shoulder.

“No, nonsense!” she protested, placing a firm hand on your elbow and halting your momentum. “Stay here for Ivan, it won’t be long. It’s not proper to enter these kinds of events without your companion,” she told you insistently. Before you could argue, her and David had swept off, leaving you alone at the top of the staircase. In the hall below, you could see the shadows of incoming partygoers as they meandered towards the sounds of the ball, which were considerably louder now. A warm, inviting light from the direction of the throne room beckoned the attendees in, and delicious aromas wafted up to meet you. 

Feeling put out and out-of-place, you leaned back against the banister of the stairway, silently urging Ivan to hurry up as you lost sight of David and Genya in the crowd. You were truly alone now, nothing but you, your jewels, and the risque green gown. You fidgeted with a strand of hair that Genya had expertly teased out to frame your face, trying to remember what she had said to you that had eased your worries back in your dressing chambers. Looking out of place isn’t the same thing as feeling out of place… or was it the other way around? Just because you feel something doesn't mean you don’t look it? 

You were tripping over your own thoughts, anxiety and frustration increasing by the moment, when suddenly you had the spine-tingling awareness that you weren’t alone anymore.

You turned to find a tall, imposing figure standing a few feet behind you. Your heart jumped into your chest and you practically toppled down the stairs in your rush to salute the man in front of you. 

General Kirigan seemed to materialize out of the darkness as if he were made of shadow himself. His black kefta was gleaming in the candlelight, along with his coal-dark eyes. He was taller than you’d expected, and devastatingly handsome. His expression was unreadable with the faintest smile playing across his lips, his posture straight and regal. You’d only seen him from great distances, never this close before. And up close, he was every inch the legend that you and so many other Grisha revered. He oozed an easy restraint, the kind of genteel manner that sets true leaders and royalty apart from the rest, but beneath that veneer of control was the vibrating frequency of raw power. It both terrified and thrilled you.

“General Kirigan, sir, I didn’t see you there.” You stammered and saluted clumsily, the motion feeling laughably mismatched with your attire. His eyes glimmered with amusement as he bowed gallantly. 

“Y/n, I believe, isn’t it?” he asked, his voice smooth and dark like running water. You couldn’t hide your shock to hear him call you by name.

“It is, yes sir,” you replied with surprise as a deep flush painted your cheeks. The General’s eyes flickered over you with a glint of satisfaction that you were certain you imagined. 

“Ivan speaks very highly of you,” he continued with ease. He spoke as if talking to someone he’d known for years, with a confidence and fluidity that had always eluded you. 

Uncertain of how best to respond, you merely nodded, swallowing thickly. You were beginning to feel uneasy under his gaze. It was probing and unflinching, not lecherous but not entirely proper either. The flame in your cheeks grew hotter as you dropped your eyes, studying the plush red carpet runner on the marble staircase.

“I see you’ve chosen green tonight,” General Kirigan commented, gesturing at your gown. The abruptness with which he addressed your attire made you wish you could vaporize on the spot. It confirmed your worst fears: you looked so ridiculous that the Black General felt the need to point it out.

Unable to meet his eyes, you only nodded again, self-consciously smoothing the emerald silk against the sides of your hips. 

“It suits you.” 

The wind felt sucked out of your chest. You looked up at the General with a dumbfounded expression. His smile broadened, the first genuine and unrestrained expression you’d seen on him yet. Your mind went completely blank as his singular attention intoxicated you. Your mouth opened and closed futilely, your cheeks no longer ablaze with embarrassment but with a different, more primal heat. The sensation was unwelcome, especially in front of the highest commanding officer of the Second Army, but it couldn’t be helped. You tried to steady your fidgeting hands by looping one across your stomach to hold the inside of your opposite elbow, then playing idly with the coral and moonstones of your necklace, but nothing helped. All the while, the General’s eyes danced across your face, not quite searching, not quite settling. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you blurted out recklessly after a few more moments under his scrutiny. He smirked, running a hand through his midnight-black hair and chuckling as if you’d said something funny. The dimming candle glow in the staircase caught the angles of his face in a mesmerizing dance of light and shadow. Your heart pirouetted in your chest, suddenly acutely aware of how beautiful he was, and how very close he was.

“I like looking at beautiful things,” he commented casually. It took you a heartbeat before you caught his meaning. He stepped towards you, so close that you felt the teasing breeze of his breath fluttering the strands of your hair that framed your face. He found your hand in an easy motion and raised your knuckles to his lips, holding your eyes with a smoldering gaze. He pressed a firm kiss the smooth skin on the back of your hand, sending goosebumps rippling up your arm and shivering all the way down your spine. 

“And you are the most beautiful thing,” he murmured with a final sweeping and appreciative gaze up one side of you and down the other. 

He dropped your hand gently and turned away from you, descending the stairs towards the sound of the party. You let out the breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, leaning back against the staircase railing to balance yourself on suddenly unsteady legs. Your eyes followed him, your heart beating wildly in your chest as your still-blank mind tried to fumble through the interaction. He half-turned back in your direction and hesitated at the bottom of the stairs. 

Your legs were moving before your mind knew what was happening. You wer halfway down the stairs before you understood that he was waiting for you and that you were walking to him. A distant part of your mind reminded you that you were supposed to be waiting for Ivan.

You swatted that thought away with a half-smile as you imagined Ivan’s reaction to seeing you at the party on the General’s arm. You’d never hear the end of it. 

It’s worth it, you decided as the General held out an arm for you, sparkles in his eyes. Your arm threaded around his with a well-practiced movement that felt as natural as breathing. 

“Y/n,” General Kirigan murmured with a satisfied smile in your direction. 

“General,” you replied, shooting him a sly half-smile. 

“Shall we, then?” he asked politely, inclining his head in the direction of the ball. You nodded happily, allowing him to lead you down the hall and into the brighter lit of the crowded ballroom, all fears and worries evaporated from your mind…

[extant-exhaustion]

Can I ask your top 10 fav fics ever (from any fandom, if you don't mind)?

Also, just curious, is there a story behind your name "extant-exhaustion "?

Well, first of all, thank you so much for your patience! I know it took me seven weeks to reply to this Ask! I agonized over my list (also, the holidays happened, which kept me busy). But I finally narrowed it down, so here we go, in no particular order:

My Top 10 Favorite Fanfics

In Another Life by LittleLuxray Haikyuu!! | T+ | 23k | Bokuto/Akaashi | angst, sickfic | It's famous for a reason. Truly one of the best pieces of writing I've ever read, including published works—I've rarely cried so hard or been moved so much.

died in my dreams by MTrash Haikyuu!! | T+ | 10k | Ushijima/Tendou | futuristic/cyberpunk AU, opposites attract, reluctant work partners to friends to lovers | fantastic characterization, really cool conceptually, a story about trauma and healing and finding your person

the weight of water by wordstruck/@redluxite Haikyuu!! | M | 6k | Iwaizumi/Oikawa | angst | Painful, soul-crushing heartbreak, but so, so beautiful. As someone who's experienced loss and grief, this story is visceral and the accompanying art haunts me.

Come and get lost with us by boxofwonder Haikyuu!! | M | 150k | Hinata/Kageyama, Daichi/Sugawara | action/adventure, Medieval AU(?) | unlike anything I've ever read before or since; a really masterful integration of an enormous cast and a plot that unravels with absolutely zero fluff or filler

shimmer in your shine by zenelly/@zenellyraen Hunter x Hunter | T+ | 91k | Leorio/Kurapika, Killua/Gon | American roadtrip AU | This story made me cry over a fist fight between Leorio and Illumi in the parking lot of a Red Lobster in Arkansas.

The Myth of Mankind by MistressEast/@mistresseast Promare | T+ | 63k | Galo/Lio | action/adventure, romance | masterful worldbuilding, kickass fight scenes, intrigue galore, falling in love while preventing mass murder? yes, please

A Second Chance To Say by KazimaKuwabara/@kazimakuwabara Yu Yu Hakusho | M | 92k | Yusuke/Kuwabara, Youko Kurama/Kuronue | action/adventure, hurt/comfort | ft. Kuronue's eternal sass and unwavering friendship, the slow burn of reincarnated already-in-love KuwaMeshi (because Kuwabara doesn't remember it), somewhat menacing levels of intrigue, and Hiei finally winning MVP of emotions on Team Urameshi

Don't Blink or You'll Miss It (Lift Up Your Head) by umisabaku/@umisabaku Kuroko no Basuke | M | 81k | Kagami/Kuroko, Kasamatsu/Kise, Midorima/Takao, Himuro/Murasakibara, Aomine/Momoi | super powers | This story and its accompanying series are so cool and so unique. The characterization is amazing and the worldbuilding is stellar.

neither fish, flesh, nor foam by twoif interactive on Twine Kuroko no Basuke | Kagami/Kuroko | angst, Little Mermaid–esque, interactive storytelling | incredible, but also devastating; a story about how sometimes our doubts can destroy not only ourselves but the good things we build; one of the coolest things I've ever interacted with as a story, a true tour de force

Transient Shadow, True Light by seafoamist/@seafoamist Kuroko no Basuke | M | 322k, WIP | Kagami/Kuroko | angst, hurt/comfort, time travel, historical (Edo Period) | If you talk to me about this story, I will go absolutely feral, because it is my current obsession and the only WIP that is on this list. I'm straight-up insane about its quality and depth. I can't even put this story into words. It knocks the wind out of me.

And lastly, my URL doesn't actually have a story behind it! It's basically just my life, haha. “Extant” is an adjective meaning “ongoing/still in existence” and “exhaustion” is pretty obvious. Essentially, I like alliteration and thought it sounded better than "tired 100% of the time."

[the-blind-assassin-12]

A Little Christmas Magic

A PEDROSTORIES SECRET SANTA GIFT FIC

A/N: Huge thank you to the moderators of @pedrostories for organizing this event again! I had so much fun getting in the holiday spirit while writing this, and I cannot wait to read all of the other festive stories that others have written! This story follows along with the same Frankie/Reader pairing as a few of the other things I've written, but it can also be read as a one shot. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to everyone who sees this!!

Gift Tag: SURPRISE @something-tofightfor - I deceived you with my decoy Joel story, because THIS was what I was actually working on. Sorry for the white lie, but I hope you like what and who I chose (you gave me some REALLY excellent choices in Joel, Frankie, Jack and Oberyn) to write about in the snow. And I hope you have the best, merriest damn Christmas ever. I love you!!

WC: 4,150

Warnings: some brief smut mentions, talking about having divorced/ separated parents

Summary: When Frankie needs a little help making Christmas special for his son, you are more than happy to step in and lend a hand. The again, you're more than happy to do just about anything for him.

As soon as he came through the door, you could tell that something was off. 

All night long, while your home had been filled with friends and family, Frankie’s smile had been constant. You saw it in his eyes and in the way the corners of them folded into crinkles when he laughed. You felt it on his lips when they found your cheek as he passed you in the kitchen. You heard it in his voice when he thanked everyone for coming. It was the first time the two of you had hosted Thanksgiving since you’d started living together, it was his year to have Ollie for the holiday, and Frankie had been undeniably happy.  

But by the time he got home from dropping Ollie back off with Tori, something had changed. What could have happened, though? He’s only been gone for twenty five minutes. 

You knew that Frankie and his ex got along well, so you doubted that they had gotten into an argument. He didn’t seem annoyed or angry. There wasn’t a scowl on his face, he hadn’t thrown his hat. If anything, you realized, he looked almost sad, his mouth downturned slightly, a sort of distance in his eyes that wasn’t there when he left. You watched him lock the door and drop his keys into the bowl on the table beside it from where you stood in the dining room, your heart clenching as you pushed the last chair back into place. Oh, Frankie, what’s wrong? 

“Hey, you.” You crossed your arms loosely and leaned against the arched doorway that separated the living room from the dining room, waiting as he stepped on the heel of one shoe to remove it before doing the same with the other, not bothering with the laces. 

He sighed, the quiet sound a confirmation that something was amiss. But as he straightened up to look at you, there was a small smile on his face. “Hey, Flamingo.” 

You huffed out a breathy laugh, your lips quirked to the side, and pushed away from the doorframe. “You know? I break my ankle one time, two years ago and…” You shook your head and rolled your eyes playfully, Frankie crossing the room to slip his hands around your waist. Yours landed on his chest, the right one sliding up his neck to twine your fingers through the curls behind his ear. “How long are you gonna call me that, hmm, Fish?” 

You already knew what his response would be, but it still sent a rush of warmth through you to hear him say it. “Forever,” he mumbled, leaving a whiskered kiss to the corner of your mouth, his fingers curling in the fabric of your shirt. “Everyone else gone?” 

“Mhmm. Pope, Yovanna, Will, and my sister all cleared out right after you. Benny and Alana just left about five minutes ago. Alana insisted on helping me get the kitchen cleaned, so she put Benny on dish duty and-” 

That earned you a small chuckle and assured you that whatever had changed Frankie’s mood wasn’t something too serious. Good. I still need to know what it is, though. “Oh, I’m sure Benjamin was thrilled about that.” 

One of your earrings had gotten flipped upside down without you noticing, and Frankie reached up to fix it. You closed your eyes and let out a hum at the brush of his thumb over the skin of your earlobe. “He didn’t seem to mind.” With a shrug you opened your eyes, and they were immediately met with his deep brown ones. “And Quinn had just fallen asleep, so they weren’t in a rush to leave because they didn’t want her to wake up as soon as they picked up the car seat. It was actually a really big help.”

“Good.” He gave you a half-smile, leaning in just long enough to press his lips to yours. “I’m glad Miller pulled his weight.” You felt him tighten his grip on your hip before he dropped his hands from your body and turned towards the couch, sinking into it with a groan. 

“Hey...” You tilted your head and nudged his foot with yours, Frankie looking up at you. “What’s wrong?” Frowning, you sat next to him, pulling one leg up and tucking it beneath you. “Is everything okay with Ollie?” 

He nodded, letting out a quiet laugh as his warm, wide palm came to rest on your knee. “Yeah, Ollie’s great.” He adjusted his position on the couch, making himself more comfortable and releasing a few small pops from his spine. “Your cornbread was a real hit with him. He told me again in the car how good it was.” 

You leaned your shoulder into the couch cushions and laughed. “I’m glad he’s a fan.” Watching the little boy’s face light up with glee as he tasted his first bite had been among the highlights of your day. “Looked like he was having fun running around with you and the guys during your football game, too.” Watching Frankie scoop his son up under one arm while Ollie’s tiny hands gripped the ball to run them both into the endzone he’d set up in your backyard had been another. The whole damn day was a highlight. “He was very excited about his touchdown.” 

“He was.” Frankie’s fingers moved lazily over your thigh as he sighed, the remnants of his smile fading. “He had a good day. We all did.” He gave you a light squeeze as he swallowed. “I’m upset because -” He stopped himself, closing his eyes with a quick shake of his head that tossed his curls. “No, upset isn’t the right…” Trailing off, he blinked and resumed the motion of his fingers. “Ollie was with us today, which means he’s with Tori for Christmas.” He rolled his eyes. “And, obviously, I knew that already.”

Nodding, you reached your arm across the backrest of the couch so that you could run your knuckle up and down the curve where his neck met his shoulder. “Right.” Eyebrows pinched together, you tilted your head. “You guys alternate. But you’ll still go over there to see him on Christmas morning for gifts, yeah?” 

You loved how hands on Frankie was when it came to raising Oliver, how much he wanted to be involved in his son’s life, and you were extremely thankful that he had an excellent co-parenting partner in Tori. Given his past - especially the time period just before and after Ollie was born - you knew that the woman could easily make things difficult for Frankie when it came to shared custody. But despite the fact that it was too late for it to matter for their relationship, you also knew that Tori genuinely believed that he had put all of his mistakes and the worst of his demons behind him, and that he was more than capable of being the father that their son deserved. And she’s right. 

But your frown returned when Frankie’s answer to your questions wasn’t what you were expecting it to be. “Not this year.” What? Why? Your expression asked the questions for you, prompting him to continue. “Remember when I told you her parents finally retired? Back in like March, I think?” 

You did, so you nodded. “Yeah, I remember. But what does that have to do with Christmas?” 

“Well, they weren’t sure it was going to happen until it did so they didn’t say anything earlier, but they pulled the trigger on a cabin. Steve’s been talking about it for years. Anyway, it’s officially theirs as of next week, and they decided they wanted to host Christmas there.” 

You didn’t see the problem yet. You knew Frankie was willing to spend as much time as he needed to in the car even for just an hour or so with his kid. “Okay… Where is this cabin?” It must be pretty far if- 

He let out a humorless sound. “Upstate New York.” Your eyes widened, brows jumping at his response. “Yeah. Usually it’s the New Yorkers buyin’ places down here when they retire, but they’re doing the reverse.” 

There it is. You winced. “Oh.” 

Keeping his hand on your knee, he brought the other one up to run it back over his hair as he blew out a breath. “And I’m happy for them, you know? Because I know they’ve wanted that for a long time. And it’s great or Ollie, too, because it means he gets to do new things. Maybe even see snow. I’m sure he’d go nuts for that.” 

Oh he absolutely would. “Of course he would.” What kid doesn’t lose their shit at the first sign of snow? 

“So I’m not upset, because I know he’s gonna have a damn blast. it’s just that… This is the first year I won’t be with him on Christmas. And now he's old enough to remember things, and…” He looked at you, and you could instantly feel the ache in his eyes as it settled in your chest. Oh, Frankie. 

He didn’t want to be absent from Ollie’s first real Christmas memories. Even if it was out of his hands.

“Hey.” You spoke softly, still dragging your knuckle soothingly over the skin above his collar. “I get it.” Unfolding your knee, you repositioned yourself so that both of your legs were draped over his lap, moving your body closer to his. He adjusted by resting one arm over your thighs and the other around your back, never looking away from your face. “You know I grew up with the same every other holiday thing with my parents, yeah?” The huge difference being that my parents ended up hating each other and you two do not. 

Frankie nodded wordlessly, but you explained anyway, wanting to make sure he got your point. 

“I’d do a holiday with one parent on the actual day, and then I’d do it again with the other on a different day. And you know what that taught me?” 

He shook his head. “What did it teach you?” 

“It taught me that calendar dates don’t mean too much. Celebrating Christmas was just as good on the 26th or the 28th or the 30th as it was on the 25th. And some of my favorite holiday memories? They aren’t even from Christmas day. They’re from all the things leading up to it, like decorating the tree and baking cookies. Things you can do-” You lifted your shoulders in a nonchalant shrug, quirking your mouth to the side. “Basically any time from tonight until the end of December, now that the turkey’s had its day.” You reached up to brush a loose strand of his hair behind his ear. “Christmas magic doesn’t have to be a one day thing. We just have to make the most of it the next time Ollie’s with us, that’s all.”  

Frankie stared at you for a few seconds, lips parting as he let out a breath. “We. Us.” He repeated your words, affection slowly changing the sadness in his eyes into something warmer. Yeah, Frankie, you don’t have to do things alone anymore. You have me. Always. “You’re incredible, you know that?” He reached up to encircle your wrist with his fingers, bringing your hand away from his neck and lifting it up to kiss the back of it. His mumbled words and warm breath tickled your skin. “Fucking amazing. You wanna help me make things special for my kid?” Of course I do. 

“I sure do.” You twisted your wrist to free it from his hold, Frankie letting go of you so that you could slide your palms over his cheeks, taking his face between them. “I love you, Francisco Morales. And I happen to be really fond of that kid of yours, too. So we’re gonna brainstorm and come up with some things we can do to make sure that he has some great memories with his Dad, and-” 

He didn’t let you finish that sentence though, surging forward to catch your lips with his, his tongue slipping into your mouth to lick the rest of your words right out of it. Taken by surprise, you gasped into the kiss which only spurred him on more, and in one swift motion he had you on your back, laying you down on the couch and laying his weight on top of you. You still had your hands on his face, but they slid to the back of his neck and head, fingers threading through his hair to pull a groan into your mouth. 

“I love you so goddamn much.” He murmured the words against your lips. “Been thinkin’ about how lucky I am to have you all night.” He nipped at your lower lip, then let his kisses rove behind your ear so that his next words couldn’t be missed. “You know how hard it was to keep my hands to myself while everyone was here?” You felt the tip of his tongue flick out to dampen your skin, and you sucked in a breath at the sensation. “Fucking impossible.” 

He rolled his hips into yours on the last word, and you couldn’t keep a whimper from slipping out at the way the motion stirred heat low in your belly. “You didn’t keep your hands to yourself, Frankie,” you reminded him, though you doubted he needed reminding. One of his hands started moving down your body, his touch trailing towards your waistline. You let out another near-moan at the combination of what he was currently doing, and the memory of what he’d done earlier - when he pulled you into the laundry room, his deft fingers delving down the front of your pants while his mouth silenced any noises you made. Because we’d never hear the end of it if Will or Maddy heard and came to see what was going on. 

“I didn’t,” he agreed, dragging the tip of his nose along your throat to drop a kiss to your pulse point. “But that was just the tip of the iceberg.” He caught you off guard again, the pads of his fingers sliding beneath your underwear and over your slick skin. “Now that we’re alone?” You felt his mischievous grin, felt the gravely rumble of his voice through his chest- and then you felt him plunge two fingers inside you. At that you cried out and he let you, no one left to keep quiet for. “I’m gonna finish what I started earlier.” 

–  –  –  

Two weeks later, you still caught yourself thinking about Thanksgiving night, and you knew that you would be for a long time. 

Frankie had made good on his claim, making you come twice right there on the couch before he took you to bed and took you apart all over again. It was almost dawn by the time the two of you fell asleep in each other’s arms, completely spent and sated, and since neither of you had to work the following day, you spent Black Friday with bare skin and lazy, lingering kisses instead of fighting with crowds at the shopping centers. 

But on the Saturday after, an idea came to you - an idea about how Frankie could still make a special memory with Ollie even though he wouldn’t see him at all the week of Christmas. Oh, it’ll be perfect. Excitedly, you brought it up with Frankie, explaining what you’d thought of. 

“So it’s about an hour away from here, but it’s worth the ride. They set up a whole Christmas town with a little train, and they hire sand artists to make these big elaborate winter-themed sculptures. There’s carolers and they do a big tree lighting event with ice skating and frozen hot chocolate and all kinds of activities for kids. I think Ollie would love it.” 

Frankie agreed enthusiastically, arms winding around you from behind to hold you close. “Sounds great.” I didn’t even tell you the best part yet. He dropped a kiss to the line of your jaw. And I’m not going to. “Thank you. For coming up with something.”

You grinned, your arms covering his where they wrapped around your belly. “Told you, Frankie. We’re a team.” 

“Yeah.” He nodded, his beard scratching your cheek as he tightened his hold. “We are.”

He’d cleared the trip with Tori, even though she’d already okayed any activities or day trips Frankie wanted to take Ollie on when he had him, the woman agreeing with both of you that it sounded like something that the little boy would enjoy. And at your suggestion, the two of you had invited Benny and Alana to come with Quinn. She was just over a year old and would likely sleep through most of the festivities in her stroller, but you knew that the Millers wouldn’t pass up on a group outing, and you knew that Frankie wouldn’t view their presence as an intrusion on his time with Ollie. They’re family, too. 

So when it came time for Ollie to spend the week with you and Frankie, the three of you climbed into his truck - Benny driving his little family separately in case they had to leave early - and headed east to a small town just outside of the Disney zone, called Celebration. 

There was a 50/50 shot that the thing you were trying to keep a secret until the last minute would be spoiled upon your arrival, banners or posters advertising the wintery phenomenon that visitors were about to witness, but luck was on your side. There were plenty of signs and decorations, so there was no missing the blocked off area that the town had designated for the holiday event, and it was just like you told Frankie it would be - food stalls and little craft and gift stalls set up to look like gingerbread houses, carolers in Victorian era costumes walking the street and singing Christmas songs new and old, an enormous pine tree towering over everything in the center of the square and dripping in bright lights. Even though it was 65 degrees and there were palm trees lining the streets, it was almost enough to make you feel like you were in an old world Christmas market, or like it was about to start snowing at any moment. 

And you were right about Ollie’s reaction to everything, his already large brown eyes going wide as saucers when he saw the big man in red waving and tossing candy canes to the crowd. “Daddy! Santa’s here!” He grabbed Frankie’s hand, pointing vehemently in the direction of the man in the Santa suit. “He came all the way far from the North pole! Do you see him?!” 

The joy on his little face was mirrored in Frankie’s, and your heart swelled at seeing them both wear the same expression. “I see him! He did come a long way, huh?” Ollie nodded, curls just like his father’s bouncing as he did. “We should probably go say hi, then, since he came all the way down here to see you.” 

“Yeah! C’mon Daddy! Let’s go! C’mon Uncle Benny!” 

You had to take a breath when your name was added to the excited babble, Ollie’s empty hand slipping into yours so he was between you and Frankie, his gleeful grin beaming up at you. “Come and see Santa with us too!” 

“Yeah,” Frankie spoke softly, stepping close and giving you a wink. “Come see Santa with us.” 

Blinking back the unexpected tears brought on by Ollie’s enthusiastic inclusion, you winkled your nose and smiled down at him. “Do you think I’m on the good list this year?” 

Without a moment’s hesitation, he answered by springing up and down, still holding both yours and Frankie’s hands. “Yeah! You’re on the good list already because you’re always really nice and fun and you’re always making my Dad and me happy.” 

You let out a chuckle at that, glancing up at Frankie, the sight of his smile enough to send a rush of warmth through you. “She sure does, Buddy.” He jostled Ollie’s hand. “Now let’s go before he has to get back to his workshop to finish making presents.” 

Keeping Ollie between you, Frankie started walking towards the area designated for photos with Santa, but he leaned in over the little boy’s head to kiss your cheek and whisper in your ear. “You were right. This is great. And he’s gonna remember this just the same as if we were doing it on Christmas Day.” Ollie turned to say something to Alana, and Frankie looked down at him before finding your eyes again. “Thank you.” 

It was your turn to lean over and brush your lips to his cheek. “Anytime, Morales.” 

For the next hour and a half the six of you strolled the area, stopping occasionally at the different displays or to take pictures or grab a snack from one of the booths. But the highlight of the night, and what you were looking the most forward to since you remembered that this event existed, came at 7pm - when “snow” started falling, a chorus of gasps and shrieks rising up from the crowd. 

“What! It’s snowin’?!” Ollie’s incredulous question joined the dozens from other children gaping in awe up at their parents and family members as big puffy flakes fell on their cheeks and noses. “How’s it snowin’ if it’s not even cold?” 

Lifting him up, Frankie answered without missing a beat, leaning in to bop Ollie’s nose with the tip of his. “Christmas magic, Buddy.” 

You snapped a picture of the two of them, making a mental note to find a photo ornament to put it in so that the moment would have a place on the tree for years to come. That done, you watched them play in the faux snow - a biodegradable non-toxic substance that would be gone in a half hour but that would provide a lifelong memory - until you felt Benny’s elbow nudge yours. 

“Hey. You did real good.” Turning your head, you met Benny’s eyes, the younger man already looking at you. “Ollie’s beside himself, obviously, but I mean… with Fish.” He smiled, the expression soft and warm, a sort of platonic affection for you almost palpable in it that you weren’t expecting even though you were quick to call him your friend now, too. “I’ve never seen him happier than he is with you.” 

He didn’t wait to let that sink in though, nodding over to his wife before clearing his throat and stepping up to where Frankie and his son were playing. “Hey, Olliegator, I think I saw penguins over there. You wanna come see ‘em? We can show Quinny.” 

Just as Benny knew he would, the little boy ran over, shouting in agreement, leaving you standing in the snowfall with Frankie. There were easily a few hundred people around you, but as he came to stand in front of you, his hands on your waist and big white flakes fluttering all around him, it was as though the two of you were in your own little snowglobe, sharing your own private moment. 

“Hey, you.” You spoke through a smile that pulled at your cheeks, your hands resting on the rolled up cuffs of his unnecessary for the weather but seasonally appropriate flannel, thumbs brushing over the worn material and into the crook of his elbow. 

He smiled back at you, brown eyes brimming with affection. “Hey, Flamingo.”  Reaching up, he plucked a flake from your hair, the substance vanishing as soon as it hit his warm skin, just like real snow. “You knew about this, didn’t you?” 

You moved your head from side to side to feign thought. “Maybe.” Pressing your lips together, you took the bottom one between your teeth. “Yes. I knew about this. My sister was really into chorus in highschool, and her music teacher suggested that she try out for the carol troupe one year so-” You shrugged. “I’ve been to this a few times because of that, but that was ages ago. I hadn’t thought about it in years. And then when you mentioned that Tori’s parents’ place was up in New York and that Ollie might get to see snow…” You lifted one hand from his arm, palm skyward to collect the sudsy white stuff. “I remembered this.” 

The kiss he gave you then was brief, but you knew there would be much more where it came from when you were no longer surrounded by so many strangers. “Ollie’s gonna remember this forever.” He nodded, the curve of his forehead resting against yours. “And so am I. Merry Christmas.” 

“It’s not Christmas yet, Frankie,” you mumbled through your grin. 

“No,” he agreed. “It’s not. But with enough Christmas magic? Does it matter?” 

You shook your head, nudging his nose with yours. “Nope. Sure doesn’t. Merry Christmas, Francisco.” 

.

.

.

Fun Fact: The event that I based this fic on is real! It's called Now Snowing, and it's been going on for 25 years! I embellished it a little bit for the story, but you really can see "snow" (the same stuff they use in movies and TV) every night from the end of November through December :)

tags: @something-tofightfor @cannedsoupsucks @dihra-vesa @littlemisspascal @alraedesigns @mishasminion360 @stevie75 @nyctophiliiiiaaa @practicalghost @tanzthompson @harriedandharassed @woodlandmouth @thescarletfang @trickstersp8 @imtryingmybeskar @wildmoonflower @mswarriorbabe80 @theredwritingwitch @silverstarsandsuns @competentpotato @pedro-pedrito-pascalito @jedi-in-crocs @hannahkatharine @anoverwhelmingdin @chiyo13 @myloveistoolittle @Noisynightmarepoetry @Severin-proud

[solomons-poison]

Hi! I read your kiss scenarios with Gojo and I'm hooked! 💗 Could you possibly do kiss prompt #15 for him?

Hi hi, I'm glad you liked them!! 💜 thank you for the follow and your kind comments, and certainly, I'm happy to give some more kisses to Gojo~ This is kind of pre-established relationship/confession, wanted to go a bit of a different route 🥰

(Requests now closed upon posting this, but feel free to check out the prompt list linked below!)

Gojo Satoru x GN!reader

♡ sharing a surprise kiss

The moment Gojo invited you out to the aquarium, you knew he was up to something. Not that the man couldn't have a sweet and sincere moment from time to time, but he was famous for getting on your nerves a little. It was his form of affection, honestly, that you'd grown very used to. And he liked to try to invite you on dates on a weekly basis, but given his joking attitude and whimsical ways, you were always too nervous and wary to accept, rejecting him each and every time. He'd find every possible moment to ask: during battles, while teaching, while [he was] being chewed out by the higher ups.

So this was a first, seeing him show up to your apartment with a bouquet of flowers, arms full of morning glories an iridescent blue like his eyes, only covered in sunglasses today. Something nagged in the back of your mind about the meaning of gifting a morning glory, but you were too surprised to think more on the subject at the time. All you could do was thank him, ignoring the heat in your face as you set them up in a vase. Perhaps it was the sweet gesture that made you cave, or perhaps you knew the ache in your heart was something more serious than you were willing to accept. But you managed a quick yes, rushing off to get ready for the outing and missing the giddy look on Gojo's face.

The date itself went surprisingly smooth, Gojo being his usual self and making little jokes about how some of the fish looked, or making up stories about them. He'd even made a distasteful joke about wanting sashimi after the aquarium, a comment that was quickly followed up with a smack to his arm. But you were finding it easy to unwind, probably the most relaxing day you'd had all year. It helped that Gojo always knew exactly how to make you laugh, like he knew you like the back of his hand.

As you two approached the largest room, the shark room, it was easy to fall quiet, simply absorbing the sheer scale of place and the tranquility of the waters. Despite having many people around you, something about the calming blue and slow speed of the sharks made it feel as if you were the only two there. Gojo sidled up beside you, hand bumping yours. Any other time, you would have turned away, but perhaps feeling like you were alone emboldened you both. Someone's pinky linked with the other's, before eventually your hands came together effortlessly, fingers twined together. Your hand felt hot, almost unbearable, but you couldn't stand the thought of letting go.

As you watched on, out of nowhere, the meaning of a morning glory came to mind: affection. It made your heart start racing, putting together what it all meant, what Gojo was trying to tell you. And perhaps Gojo had some kind of sixth sense about your revelation, as his shocking white hair came into view for just a moment before something soft touched your lips. Your brain took a moment to register, but it was natural the way you leaned into him then, like it was meant to be. You still had to seriously consider what you'd do going forward, but for now, you chose to live in this blissful moment and accept his love.

—

Send me a type of kiss and a character!

[shivunin]

In Good Time {1/3}

Thank you as always to the lovely @scribbledquillz for letting me borrow her Warden Revka for @ockissweek. She and Wen are such utter disasters together that I couldn't help but go a bit overboard. (I have broken this into three smaller parts to post while I get comfortable with the editing on the other pieces for this week.)

(Part 2 | Part 3)

(Female Warden/Female Warden | 2,101 Words | No warnings)

"For a chance to make your little much, To gain a lover and lose a friend, Venture the tree and a myriad such, When nothing you mar but the year can mend: But a last leaf---fear to touch!" --Robert Browning, "By the Fire-Side"

Somewhere in the alienage, a bell rang. 

It was not the bell of a clocktower, nor the bell of some stalwart city watch. The alienage was afforded neither luxury. It might have been someone’s musical instrument, or perhaps the little bell over the general store in the central courtyard. From this distance, echoing through the fall fog and the alleyways in between, it was difficult to tell much about it. 

Arianwen, who’d already been lying awake, held her breath until she was sure nobody had roused from their sleep at the sound. Around her, her cousins and father went on sleeping, snores rising above the faint ringing. 

Good. Now must be the time.

She slipped from her bed, careful to avoid putting too much weight on the floorboard that creaked the loudest. She slipped her feet into her worn shoes, took her threadbare cloak from the hook beside the door, and slipped soundlessly into the mists of night. 

Somewhere behind her, the bell chimed. Wen found her feet matching its cadence without intending to as she dodged the puddles waiting in the center of the road. It was never a long walk to her dearest friend’s house, but it seemed longer in the mist with the lonely ringing behind her. She passed the burnt-out wreck of a house, a lean-to with a lamp burning inside, and one of the little nests she’d assembled for the stray cats in the neighborhood. She paused there a moment, fishing a cloth from her pocket and shaking her dinner scraps out before the little den. The street seemed less lonely when the tabby crept from within and butted her head against Wen’s fingers. 

“Shh,” Wen told her, trailing her fingertips over the cat’s back. The cat made a soft noise, twining around Arianwen’s ankles before taking her spoils and darting back into her little den. 

Wen waited a moment, listening, and heard the soft sounds of satisfaction from within. There’d been a night much like this, years ago now, when the fog had clung to the banks of the Drakon and she’d slipped through alleyways with her best friend in hand. This very cat had been a newborn kitten then, her little eyes unopened. Wen had fed her mother all through the pregnancy, had watched the kittens be born herself, and she’d been so punch-drunk with happiness that it had seemed the most obvious possible thing to track down Revka and show her, too. 

The tabby was, incidentally, also named Revka. Only her favorite people ever got to share their names with the animals she cared for. 

Wen deposited other scraps as she went, leaving trimmings of fat on this wall or along that gutter. She could hear the stray dogs and cats making their way from the shadows, and the occasional skitter in the refuse of the street that told her the rats had found it, too. Fine enough. Her other creatures could hunt the rats if they were quick enough—and if they were not, she made this trip every night. She would leave more for them later. 

The fire was still lit inside Revka’s house. Wen sighed in relief (she always felt bad climbing through the window, even if nobody here minded) and rapped her knuckles against the door. 

“C’min,” a drowsy voice murmured beyond. Wen turned the knob and slipped through the open door into the golden-lit room beyond. 

Rev was slumped over the table, her mending strewn over the surface before her. There were creases on her cheek that suggested she’d recently fallen asleep on the uppermost piece, and she blinked owlishly at Wen when she shut the door behind her. 

“You should be asleep,” Wen whispered. She slid the latch home and paused to Revka’s left. Rev fought a yawn, pressing her hand to her mouth, and fussed with the things on the table for a moment. 

“Would be, if you’d been earlier,” Revka said, but there was no accusation in her voice. Wen shrugged and offered a hand, which Revka took readily to stand. There were calluses and welts across her fingers, a sign that she’d been long at her mending and the sewing needle had taken its toll. Her fingers were stiff, too, and Wen ran her thumbs over the swell at the base of Rev’s thumb until her joints loosened slightly. 

“Shianni couldn’t sleep.”

“Course not,” Rev said absently, her eyes on their hands. Wen dropped the first and took the second, pressing into the palm until Revka sighed and her shoulders relaxed. 

“Come on,” Wen said, slipping out of her shoes and shrugging her coat loose. “You never lie down unless I make you.”

“’S not true,” Revka yawned, but obligingly unbuttoned her stiff vest and set it aside. 

The two of them fit neatly on Revka’s bed as long as they were both lying on their sides. This was fortunate, because they’d been sleeping precisely like that for a very long time—before Revka had lost her parents, even. Wen slept with her back to the wall because she was never at ease with her back to an open room. Revka, for her part, slept huddled against Wen’s chest. The blanket wasn’t really enough to warm both of them otherwise, as they’d found out many winters ago. Rev had patched it with scraps from the tailor’s shop she worked for, so it was far thicker than it had once been. Even so, they had their routines—both liked their routines very much, in fact, and this was one of the most important. 

“Your day?” Wen asked when they were both amply covered by the blanket. 

“Fine,” Rev said, but the corner of her mouth turned down. 

“Hmm,” Wen said. 

“Was awful.”

“Thought so.”

“Bastards all day,” Rev said, tucking her face into the crook of Arianwen’s neck. “Didn’t get a thing finished.”

“Mm,” Wen said, smoothing a hand over her friend’s hair. Revka sighed, and it was a weary thing. 

“Couldn’t leave at the end,” Revka went on, her breath heating Wen’s throat, “were people against the door—nevermind.”

“What?” Wen asked, pulling back slightly. Revka wrinkled her nose. There were dark circles under her eyes. No matter how early she crept through the streets to Rev’s door, the circles never seemed to get any lighter. 

“Kissing,” Rev said, and her voice was odd around the word. Hesitant—no. Something else. Something strange. “Had to leave through the back.”

“Oh,” Wen frowned. “I don’t know why people do that.”

“Block the door?”

“Kiss.”

“You…?” 

Even in the shadows, Wen could see the faint flush against her friend’s cheeks. She shrugged, then pulled the blanket back over her exposed shoulder. 

“You know I haven’t. I would have told you,” she paused, considering, and went on: “It doesn’t look as interesting as people make it seem.”

“You’re not—” Revka swallowed audibly and shifted on the bed against Wen. Their knees knocked against each other. “Not curious?”

Arianwen considered this seriously. She was curious about very little, actually, and kissing was one of those odd marks of growing up that had seemed irrelevant to her. That sort of landmark only seemed to apply to other people, just like having lots of friends and feeling comfortable in conversations. Rev was more knowledgeable about this sort of thing. She always seemed to know more about which of these questionable necessities Wen actually ought to care about. 

“Should I be?” she asked. 

Revka squirmed under the blanket. Her cold feet brushed against Wen’s calf. 

“Dunno,” Revka said, but she was dodging Wen’s eyes. Arianwen frowned. 

“Who would kiss me?” she asked, because this was clearly some important thing she’d been missing. All the years she’d been alive and it hadn’t come up until now; perhaps this was some threshold she’d been meant to cross before tonight. How odd that nobody’d told her so. 

Revka made a strangled noise. 

“What?”

Rev didn’t answer. 

“Rev. What?”

“I’d,” Rev cleared her throat. “I’d do it.”

“Oh,” Wen said, sinking further into the blankets. “Why?”

“Well. If you’re curious.”

Was she curious? She couldn’t tell. But Revka was the sort of person who always knew what to do, and even when she didn’t she usually had an idea of what ought to happen. If she thought Arianwen needed to be kissed, it was probably for a very good reason. She’d never steered Wen wrong before. 

“Alright,” Wen said. She propped herself up on her elbow, thick braid slipping from the pillow to rest against her arm. 

“I—really?”

“Why not?” 

Revka’s eyes were dark and warm in the firelight. Wen watched them, looking for some second meaning. This seemed like one of those conversations that was happening twice, and she only understood one half of it. A pity; Rev was usually one of the few who told her precisely what she meant. 

“’f you’re sure,” Rev said, licking her bottom lip and shifting on the thin mattress. 

Wen shrugged and leaned forward, pressing her mouth to Revka’s. The air had cooled her lips, especially the lower one, but they warmed against Arianwen’s. Rev made a small sound—surprised—and moved her lips in turn. It was slow at first, then slightly faster. She could feel the ridge of Revka’s teeth beneath her skin, and the small but noticeable scar where her lip had once been split defending Wen in an alleyway. 

Her lungs ached. Wen leaned back, taking a sharp breath, and lay back against the pillow again.

When she felt steadier, Arianwen blinked at Revka. Revka pressed her hands over her cheeks, then rested one palm over her eyes. Wen eyed her hands for a moment, resolving to steal some hand cream from somewhere. The colder it got, the harder the weather was on poor Rev’s hands. Someone ought to do something about it. 

“Well?” Rev asked after several silent moments. 

A bell chimed somewhere in the alienage, the rhythm uneven and halting. 

“Guess it’s nice,” Wen said. “Don’t understand why people are always doing it, though.”

Rev squeaked and rolled over, burrowing under the covers. It was awfully chilly in here, Wen supposed. She found Revka’s hip under the blanket and pulled her closer, looping an arm over her stomach. 

“Thank you,” she added belatedly, and Revka made another indistinct noise. 

The bell went on ringing somewhere in the distance. Wen pulled the blanket up and over her pointed ear, wishing that everyone else in the world would just go away. Hesitantly, pausing halfway through, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to Revka’s hair. She didn’t know why. Seemed like the thing to do, maybe. 

“Go to sleep, Rev,” she said, already comfortable enough to feel the pull of slumber. She never slept better than she did tucked into Revka’s cramped bed. She might even go so far as to say that this was her favorite place to be in all the world—the fire flickering past the kitchen table, Revka’s brother breathing softly in the other room, and Rev herself held tightly in Wen’s arms. 

Maybe she’d try to find something else for Revka, Wen thought, yawning slightly and nestling into Rev’s shoulder. A thicker blanket, maybe. Rev was shivering against her, so she must still be cold, and true winter would come very soon. 

Yes, she decided. A thicker blanket would be just the thing. 

Long after Wen fell asleep at last, Revka lay awake. The pillow was damp under her cheek and her hand was pressed hard against her traitorous mouth. It wasn’t even worth wondering what she could possibly have been thinking. She hadn’t been thinking. Obviously. 

What a fool she was—let me show you what a kiss feels like—an utter fool. How close she’d come to giving it all away. If she ever did—if she ever let on how crucial Wen’s company was to her—she would surely lose this closeness forever. Ruin it, and for what? Because she couldn’t help but wonder what Wen’s touch would feel like against something other than her palms? 

Because kissing her had felt like liquid fire running under her skin? Because she had, for a moment, thought that Wen might feel the same? 

Ridiculous—stupid, to think that the hope of something beyond their friendship could ever be worth more than what she already had. 

When they woke in the morning, when Arianwen asked why she looked so tired, Revka told her only that some fool with a bell had kept her awake all night. 

What else could she possibly say? The truth was beyond consideration. She would just—hold it inside forever, and Wen would never, ever have to know.

[eternally-smitten]

Drabblecember - Learning Traditions

pairing: Natalie x Father Paul Hill

summary: Paul takes an interest in how Natalie celebrates the holidays

word count: 962

author's note: I got all mushy thinking of Paul celebrating Yule with me so I wrote this number 😭 also today is my birthday :))

banner credit: cafekitsune

Paul's eyebrows knitted together as he focused intently on the twine in his hand. In front of him, a plate of dried orange slices and sticks of cinnamon laid on the coffee table waiting for him. He had no idea where to start.

This was his and Natalie's first Christmas together. Well, for her it's Yule. Despite being a devout Catholic, he was so intrigued with her when they first met and she introduced herself as a “filthy Pagan” as a joke. Ever since then, he had been enchanted with her and her traditions. 

Their whole house smelled like warm oranges, cinnamon, and nutmeg. It was so inviting to Paul he almost wished he knew Natalie earlier so that he could've experienced such a welcoming feeling before. He couldn't help but wonder what life would be like if she moved to the island sooner than she actually did. 

“Do you need help?” Natalie pulled him out of his thoughts.

He awkwardly laughed, “Maybe just a tad. I'm not sure where to begin.”

She took a spot next to him and tugged at the end of the twine, “Well, I start with a loop knot. That makes it so we can hang it up!”

“I see,” Paul listened to her intently, “How do I make a knot like that? I'm afraid I'm not very skilled in that criteria. I know it's a bit ironic to not know how to do a loop knot on a fishing island.”

She giggled, “I always forget they use those types of knots for fishing, so you're not alone there. Here, let me show you.”

With gentle hands, she guided him on how to make the perfect knot for the end of the string. With her being so close, he could smell the hand cream she used right before she came to help him. Peaches. He did his best to pay attention but the way she smelled was so distracting to him. In the most innocent of ways, she smelled delicious. Sweet. Inviting. 

“And…There!” Natalie beamed, “That's how you do it! Does that make a little sense?”

“Yes.” He lied, feeling a little guilty that he paid more attention to his fantasies of throwing the twine away to kiss her than her instructions, “I think I'm starting to get the hang of it, thank you.”

She looked at the table silently for a few moments. It looked like she was lost in her thoughts until she let out a small gasp and jumped up to run to their room. Seconds later, she came back with her pin cushion in hand, “Almost forgot the most important part!”

“Oh, yes,” He gingerly picked a needle from the cushion, “We can't make a garland without sewing it, can we?”

“Not if we want these oranges on there!” Natalie took a different sewing needle and started to poke large holes in the dried fruit. 

Paul threaded the twine with his needle and started to weave it in the holes she punctured for him, “So, tell me again, why oranges?”

A small smile started to spread across her face, “Well, oranges are associated with love, friendship, and prosperity to name a few. Isn't that what the holidays are all about?”

“You would be correct. And this cinnamon?” Paul held up a stick to her before tying it next to an orange. 

“They stand for prosperity too.” She replied, “As well as passion and…um, lust.” Natalie said that last word quietly, almost as if she were embarrassed of it. Despite being with him for a while, she still felt awkward even saying words like “lust” in the presence of a priest.

He chuckled softly, “Ah, these have very emotional properties, don't they?”

They continued to talk about how Natalie celebrated Yule and how Paul could participate. She explained other types of celebrations and decorations they could make together. As he absentmindedly put together the garland, Paul kept getting lost in her eyes. Instead of listening to her explain her traditions and her holidays, he watched her eyes light up and her smile grow wider and wider. He adored how excited she got for the holidays and it felt nice that she wanted to include him. 

Growing up, Paul was always fond of the holidays. He always loved the snow, the cold air, the twinkling lights, but most importantly, how it brought people together. He always wished the actual day was a little longer just to feel that love longer. Then, Natalie informed him that Yule was twelve days long, much like the famous Christmas song, and they could do something all twelve days together. 

Paul sniggered quietly, “My hands are getting sticky from the oranges.”

“Want me to take over?” She asked him.

“No,” He said, smiling at his garland so far, “I'm enjoying myself quite a bit. Despite my sticky fingers.”

Natalie was happy with how invested he was in learning her traditions, “It looks beautiful. You're a quick learner!”

“Oh, please, you're just being polite and humoring me.”

“No, really!” She said honestly, “I think it's perfect. Mind if I…?”

Paul gingerly handed it to her, “Please do.”

She very carefully took the homemade garland from him and hung it up right above their window. Paul cringed at little at his shotty knotting and how the spacing was uneven where he tied the cinnamon but Natalie saw the opposite. She saw perfection. A gift. Pure love. 

She turned to him, trying her best not to get over emotional, “Thank you so much for making it. I love it!”

He stood up beside her to look at the new decoration that adorned their home. Then, he took her hand in his and planted a kiss on the back of it, “Happy Holidays, angel.”

tag list: @blood-moon-ships @bobmckenzie @bioexorcizm @gideongrovel @cherrypieships @lieutenantselnia @felixrichtershubby @fates-theysband @kylars-princess @weirdgirlgf lmk if you want to be added or removed! ♡

[ellecdc]

I'm late to the game but I've been enjoying everyone's precious babies so much so I thought I'd share my own!

This is Beatrice. She is 7 years old and has anxiety. She is sometimes a curmudgeon and always an idiot. Her favorite toy is a piece of kitchen twine that she carries around with her. She is the loudest cat I have ever met (but also my baby and the loml).

This is Fiki. She is 7 months old and acts as orange as she looks (which is very). She growls a lot for no reason and loves to bite (image 2) with no warning which is not as fun as she thinks it is. She is also the clumsiest cat I have ever met.

Lastly this is Hollow. He was arguably more orange in personality that Fiki which is very impressive. The difference is that he was the most agile cat I have ever met, and also very smart (but still an idiot). He was a very big goofball.

Enjoy my child, niece and nephew y'all!

I had to look up what a curmudgeon and tbh, me too. also that's so cute! Beatrice sounds like my late boy Bennett - his favourite toy was a fishing rope (from the lobster boats near me) that our neighbour uses to bundle fire kindling

Fiki is beautiful 2. Fiki is a female orange tabby! ground breaking. 3. yeah definitely sounds like orange cat syndrome, I'm sorry to tell you there is no cure 😞

Hooollllllooooww (is it because there's nothing in his noggin? head empty? echos when you tap on it???)

I love them ALL thanks for sharing.

[a-strange-inkling]

She Walks in Starlight

12/25 HellCheer Xmas Prompt: “What do you mean you’ve never decorated a Christmas tree before?”

(Part Two of Day 2: Santa Hat)

Chicago, Illinois 1986

“Next year, we’re getting a fake one!” he yells to her from beneath the tree, desperately trying to secure the stump in the stand, getting pricked and prodded by hundreds of pine needles. He tries to turn the last screw, but his hands are tacky with sap and it’s hard for him to get a grip. “Can you hand me a damp towel or something?”

He peeks up through the branches when he receives no reply, seeing her head tilted over, hand on her cheek, not listening to a thing he’s saying.

“Enjoying the view!?” he chirps.

“Huh?”

“Baby, you know I’m all about being objectified, but could you stop staring at my ass and get me a damp towel?” he pleads.

“Oh, sorry!” she squeaks, giggling as she hurries over to the kitchenette. “Sorry!”

“That’s okay.” he sighs, tired and very much in love.

She’s soon army crawling down beside him.

“Woah, hey, Cunningham, it’s not safe under here!” he snaps. “This thing is still loose.”

“How are you supposed to hold onto the tree and clean your hands?” she asks pointedly, carefully wiping the sap from his fingers and knuckles. Even under a fucking tree with pine needles up his nose, she makes him smile.

“Why don’t you keep it steady and I’ll bolt it?” she asks, already working the wing nut, spinning it to the right.

“I spend all day under the hood of a car with a wrench, you think I’d be better at this.” he laughs, watching her with soft eyes. She turns over once it’s finished and gives him a quick kiss. “I love saving you.” she replies coyly, inhaling deeply as she looks up into the branches. “You know, it we get a fake one, it won’t smell like this.” she breathes.

“Fair point.” he replies, shuffling back, carefully helping her out from underneath.

“Can we decorate now!?” she asks giddily, folding her hands excitedly.

He laughs incredulously. “I still have to tie it down, but you can go get the boxes if you really can’t contain yourself.”

She takes off excitedly for the closet and he beams after her before reaching for the twine. He can’t get enough of how much she’s enjoying this. She’s all aglow, like she’s walking on air, like she’s made of starlight. “I never got to decorate my own tree before!”

He looks over his shoulder in bemusement, blinking a few times. Did he just hear right? “What do you mean you’ve never decorated a Christmas tree before?”

“My mom never let my brother or I near the tree, she always had it done by a professional decorator so we weren’t allowed to touch anything.” she explains as she riffles through the shelf above their coats, making his heart sink a little. Who could deny this cute little elf anything?

About a half hour later when everything’s battened down, Eddie helps her with the lights and they string cranberries and popcorn while watching old Rankin and Bass Specials.

Chrissy, unable to wait anymore, breaks into the box of old ornaments Wayne gave them when they moved out of the trailer.

“Awww!” Chrissy exclaims suddenly lifting up a clay hand print that he had made when he was in kindergarten, once painted red and now a chipped, muted pink, his name scratched in the palm. “Look how tiny you were!”

He rolls his eyes, indulgently lifting his hand for her to compare sizes. “It’s almost as big as yours right now.” he teases, holding it against her palm next, making her pout. It’s not too much of an exaggeration.

Chrissy fishes out a few more ornaments, darting back and forth excitedly as she hangs them on the tree, looking for the perfect spot for each one.

He recognizes most of them, a mischievous little elf, May’s ballerina that Chrissy loves, a few of his mother’s snowflakes, a race car, more various crafts he brought home from school, one mini frame of him in the first grade that makes her gush and him cringe.

Thanks, Wayne.

She coaxes him to help her reach the higher branches where there’s still some real estate left. It doesn’t take much. A flutter of her lashes, a sweet little smile.

She continues to hand him the old decorations in exchanges for his little stories behind each of them. She sometimes has to interrupt to instruct him on which branch to hang one on, reminding him not to crowd them.

“Anymore?” he asks, hand out, waiting patiently, but she doesn’t respond.

“You okay?” He raises a brow, finding her just kneeling beside the box, staring into it.

“Chrissy?”

Slowly she pulls a homemade green and white pom pom ornament, tied off with an orange ribbon. He stills, feeling all of his blood rush to his face, remembering that cute little cheerleader in her green Santa hat last year, shyly spreading “Christmas Cheer” through the halls of Hawkins High.

“…you kept it?” she asks softly, fingers gently running over the yarn, smoothing out the tassels.

“Yeah… you um… you gave it to me.” he replies softly, rubbing the back of his neck, feeling strangely embarrassed. “I mean, heh, I think we’ve already established that I had a thing for you back then, sweetheart.”

She looks up at him with glassy eyes and a watery smile. “You hung it on your tree?”

“I mean, that is what it was for, right?” he chuckles, taking it from her, gently holding it in his hand, smiling to himself. “God, you nearly killed me that day, Cunningham… coming right over to me in your cute little hat and uniform, nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“I was so nervous,” she giggles lightly. “I was so afraid you were going to be mean or make fun of me for it.”

He matches her smile, taking her chin between his forefinger and his thumb. “Oh yeah? Why’d you come over to me then, if you thought I was so mean and scary?”

A part of him always wondered.

“Because I...” She flushes prettily, the same way she did back then. “You looked so sad and you were all by yourself and I don’t know…”

She gets flustered when he grins smugly, thumbing along the plushy pulp of her lower lip, waiting for her to continue. While he often laments all the time they could have had if he ever had enough balls to make a move, it’s still nice to know that his secret admiration wasn’t exactly all one-sided back then.

“I…” she tries again.

“You…?”

“I just wanted to cheer you up.” she murmures bashfully, making him lean down and kiss her deeply.

“Mmm… took your cheer captain duties very seriously.” he hums against her lips, smile widening at the petulant little noise she makes in her throat.

“Apparently it worked,” she gives his shoulder a playful shove. “You kept it.”

“I did.” he replies, kissing her neck gently, before hanging her ornament on the highest branch

@hellcheerxmas

[edupunkn00b]

Where the Air is Sweet, Chapter 1

Photo by Rachel Martin on Unsplash

Ch. 1 - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

Patton and Logan share an apartment in an old brownstone on a quiet street. They each have their quirks (as do their neighbors!) and, on the outside, you'd never expect them to actually get along.

But for all the surface differences, their love shines through.

WC: 727 - Rated: G - CW: none, all fluff (future chapters may have some swearing) -

A brilliant sunset had nearly burned away the last of that morning's rain. Nearly. A few small puddles remained for Patton to 'accidentally' splash on his way home from Mr. D's bodega. Most of the block had opened their windows to let in the warm, fresh air, and the soft sounds of dinner-making and children laughing spilled out from each apartment he passed. Up ahead, Patton was pretty sure he could pick out Roman's humming as he hung his laundry at the end of the block. He was certain he caught a flash of purple plaid on Roman's line, which meant his best friend was visiting. No wonder he was in such a good mood.

Music—well, what their next-door neighbor Remus called music, at least—poured up from his basement apartment window. The volume was low, which meant Logan was home.

When he reached the stoop, Patton skipped down the steps, mesh grocery bags swinging. He crouched in front of the door to read the address label on a package from Lucas' Leatherworks that lay just outside the door. It had Logan's name on it, so he tucked it into the bag of oatmeal and bananas and opened the door. "Oh, Lo!" he called. Logan wasn't in the kitchen, so Patton left the bags on the counter and fished out the box. "Lo, you got a package!"

"Oh, good! I was expecting that—Patton!" he snapped, hurrying to close the front door. "Pat, you left the door open again. And you're tracking in water!"

"Oops," he grinned, toeing off his shoes and setting them in the shoe rack to dry. "Sorry, Lo. I was just so excited! Here…" Patton held out the box as an offering and he danced his shoulders back and forth when the crease in Logan's brow dissolved.

He tugged down his sweater vest, a smile quirking up his lips. "Thank you, Pat," he nodded and took the package. Opening the utility drawer without looking, he reached for a letter opener. With the box set flat on the counter, he scored the tape, then pried open the box by hand.

"You didn't want the box opener?" Patton asked, elbows rested on the counter and leaning over to see.

"It might damage the harness," Logan muttered. He rolled up his sleeves before sifting through the packing peanuts and pulling out a… thing made of leather straps and little buckles.

"Uh, Lo?" Patton stared at the object. Logan had called it a harness, but it was way too small for a horse or a dog. "What are you going to use that for?"

"Oh!" Logan looked up. "Come to the bedroom and I'll show you."

"Okay," Patton grinned and followed him to their shared bedroom.

Once inside, Logan set the harness on his bed and reached underneath, pulling out a shoe box. He handed it to Patton. "Take off the lid, and come over here be ready."

Patton tilted his head, his confusion growing when he lifted the lid and revealed soft fleece lining the inside, a few inches thick. Logan had already moved to the window, so he followed, box at the ready.

Logan opened the window and whistled quietly, then made a little cooing sound at the back of his throat. After a moment, a familiar pigeon poked her head inside. "There you are, Bernice," he murmured, both hands outstretched. She hobbled closer and it was then that Patton noticed the twine and popsicle sticks strapped around her right leg.

Moving slowly and continuing to coo, Logan cradled the bird in his hands and set her gently in the shoe box. "Keep her steady, Pat," he said quietly and Patton stood like a statue, hugging the box—and its precious contents—close to his chest. "You can pat her head, she likes that," Logan added, smiling when he gently pet her.

Snatching up the harness, he addressed Bernice. "I'm going to swap this out for something a little more comfortable, girl, okay?" Cooing quietly, the bird cocked her head. "Mm-hm," he hummed. "This will keep your ankle steady while it heals."

"I think she understands," Patton giggled, watching as Bernice remained still in the box, allowing Logan to remove the old makeshift splint and replacing it with the sleek new leather one.

Nodding as he worked, Logan smiled back. "I think so, too."

[bitbybitwrites]

specific ask game 7, 13 and 18 !!!!

7. what animal do you look forward to seeing when you visit an aquarium?

Dolphins, Otters, Turtles or any fish that has pretty colors. I'm all for the pretty things. Oh jelly fish are kind of hypnotic to watch too.

13. first thing you’re doing in the purge?

Lord, I'd probably board my house up and hunker down and try to enjoy the time not going to work and all. How boring am I.

18. your boba/tea order?

You might regret asking me this one 😂

1.) I love bubble tea. My usual go-to is mango or passionfruit or pineapple bubble tea. Black tea. Over ice and half boba/ half coconut jelly( nata de coco) . If I'm crazy and am in the mood for the dairy, I'll take a coconut milk tea over ice again with the half boba/ half coconut jelly. Taro milk tea with boba is pretty good too.

2.) I'm also a BIG tea drinker in general. I usually take it without milk and a teaspoon of honey. My usual go to first is Twinings Earl Grey . After that, these are some of my favorite blends, in no particular order:

Twinings Prince of Wales

Twinings Lady Grey

Twinings Darjeeling

Twinings English Breakfast

Twinings Blackcurrant Breeze

Harney and Sons Victorian London Fog

Harney and Sons Tower of London

Harney and Sons Lunar New Year

Harney and Sons Paris

Harney and Sons Royal Palace Tea

Stash Tea Holiday Chai

Stash Mango Passionfruit (herbal)

Stash Coconut Mango

Stash Christmas in Paris

Stash Christmas Morning

Bigelow Toasted Coconut Almond Bark

Celestial Seasonings Chamomile Lavender (herbal)

Nina's Marie Antoinette Tea ( Black tea with apple and rose from the gardens of Versailles)

Nina's The De Anges (Black tea with strawberry and vanilla)

Jasmin Pearl Tea (any brand)

I have tons more here herbal, black., green, white teas . . but if I list them all this post would be ridiculously long. 😂😂😂😂

Thanks for the ask, @kurtsascot !

If you want to play

[sol-emers]

Next part!!! Yes I know this is a very short part but I promise as we get through the first couple planning chapters that set everything up. The word count will be at abt 1,000- 2,000-3,000 so bare with me here. 😭😭😭

This story is also on Wattpad and you can find that, also a tag list on the pinned post on my account. Thanks for all the love I've gotten on the first part, I hope you all like this one. - wren

Witching Hour

Summary: Twyla Addams and her twin gets sent off to Nevermore school of the supernatural and anything weird- they get exposed to new secrets, a mystery, and budding friendships, and romances.

Warning: murder, torture, kissing, mental illnesses

Part one is linked at the bottom, my full master list is also pinned on my page.

| |

NANCY REAGAN HIGHSCHOOL, eight schools, five years. It's safe to say Twyla and Wednesday are a bit of a nuisance to the public school system.

Oh and that. The public school system...

"hundreds of adolescents in underfunded schools, run by people whose dreams were crushed years ago"

Though they admire the sadism.

Said girls, walked through the hall. Loud giggles and crowds of friends parting for the girls, as they whisper and gossip. Even the teachers and faculty crowded around to watch as Twyla and Wednesday reached their brother's locker.

The bell rang and soon everyone scattered around eager to get home. A group of jocks shoved and pushed each other around laughing at the locker that was shaking with smothered sounds of panic.

They only laughed harder rushing away like idiots once the two approached.

Wednesday opened the door with sharpie scattered all around decorating it with words of hatred, and soon the girls' brother; Pugsley fell out.

Wrapped up tight in a rope of twine and an apple sitting in his mouth.

The first question in Twyla's mind- and mouth was "who did this?"

Pugsley just whimpered and shook his head frantically the apple still stuck tightly in his mouth.

"I want names."

Wednesday knelt taking the apple from his mouth and started expectantly.

He still just shook his head and whispered "I don't know who they were. Honest, it happened so fast."

Wednesday just sighed and began undying him, not noticing when her twin snuck off slowly walking herself into the locker and joining the shadows.

"Pugsley. Emotion equals weakness. Pull yourself together."

He just whimpered more.

"Now."

Looking back in her peripheral when she noticed her siren-eyed sister no longer standing behind her.

But rather a few feet away, walking fast in the walls.

Only focus on one thing and only feeling a dark need for revenge. Despite her younger brother being unwilling to give up names- it didn't take a genius to put it together.

Just think of all the context clues, who wrote those things on his locker? Who just so happened to be standing right outside his locker when she approached? Who ran away laughing as soon as she got there?

Plus who's had a history of picking on smaller students?

Conveniently she also knew just where they'd be after school.

She left the school quick.

Due to her shadow powers she often found it easier to get places on time, time moves a lot slower when your someone or something else's shadow.

She made quick of her errand once she got to her destination and hurried back only making it to the end of her sibling's conversation,

"what I do best." she walked away not noticing the shadow trailing behind her feet.

Once she reached some shadowy steps, Twyla jumped out from behind her and whispered "so what's your plan?"

Wednesday surprised but not fazed turned around slow with her mouth open. Ready to speak of her plan but her eyes caught on the shiny plastic bags full of water and fish that her sister had dangling from her gloved hands.

"well, that'll do."

Twyla raised her eyebrows slowly and slunked down the rest of the steps not making a sound.

Her deadpan expression showed no signs of her plan when she disappeared once more.

This time Wednesday followed her figure through the school, passing the class they were just in avoiding looking at the teacher locking up his class who only stared at Wednesday and the figure of a girl in interest.

Threw the halls, and go to the school gym. Where the resident asswhole jocks were having swim practice.

What a bunch of white pussys.

As they walked up the steps (or in) the jocks noticed and stopped in their speedos.

"Dalton look pigsleys sister."

This 'Dalton' turned in the water eyes shining as he opened his mouth and said, "Hey freak, this is a closed practice."

Which for a reason unknown to Twyla- they all found funny.

The shadow gave Wednesday the bags and stayed put in the dark where she could only be.

"the only person who gets to torture my brother is my family."

Raising the bags of deadly piranhas. Holding them up. Letting them realize. Letting the horror sink into their bones while Twyla watched with a shiny smirk in the shadows.

They all started to share yells as they attempted to swim to shore. When Wednesday finally let the bag go.

It broke once it reached the water.

Approximately twenty fish let loose in a pool full of people. Reaching Dalton last.

Blood staining the pretty teal the pool had once been.

And a delightful scream. Along with a haunting smirk.

Solidifying Twyla and her sisters' fate.

At boarding school...

| |

Thanks for reading! Any comments are appreciated and if y'all have any ideas for the story or thoughts I am not opposed to hearing them :)

Also note that at any given point of the series Twyla will always be wearing black gloves unless it's mentioned she's not.

Twyla's face claim is Cindy Kimberly. She is who will show up in all my gifs and who is on the cover of the story on wattpad, though you all may imagine her as you wish.

Taglist: @itscheybaby

Part one:

[conscriptur]

“When you were experiencing any sudden grief or anxiety, how would you handle that feeling when you were at home, in District Four?” The District Thirteen doctor asked.

Finnick barely looked up to see which one of them had spoken to him. He was already allowing himself to be drawn back to the memories of home. “I—uh—I would make fishing nets while I sat on the beach with…” His head turned to the side to the empty space on the bed. Annie. That was what he wanted to say but her name was trapped in throat. He dug at the skin around his nails as the idea of Annie began to spiral into despair. She was not on that beach with him listening to the waves crash into the shore barely reaching far enough to skim their toes. No, she was in the Capitol because of him with terror being inflicted on her worse than the Games. The jabberjay screams rung violently in his head.

Trapped in his mind listening to Anniems screams surrounding him, he forgot where he was. It wasn’t until he felt movement in front of him, a shadow about to pounce and attack. Finnick flinched and at first thought he was sure he was back in the arena but relization hit him soon thereafter, his eyes looking up at the doctor finally, only for a brief moment. They were patient enough but it would not surprise him to quickly sedate him and try this whole therapy session another time. He needed to get back on track with his coping mechanism.

“There is this piece of worn rope I used to—uh— mess with all the time if I wasn’t out by the water. It was part of one the fishing nets I made with my dad that fell apart with use. But it is—was always comforting to fidget with that.”

It was probably idiotic to be sharing all of this to strange doctors that seemed more unenthusiastic about treating him or at least helping at all. What did it matter anyways? What difference did it make for him now locked away in a room hundred of feet below the ground. “Tying knots keeps my hands busy.” Finnick added.

It was a few minutes of scratching noises and other sounds that he could not quite place in his daze. The charming blonde from District Four was back in the depths of his mind searching for Annie and could not even find her in that memory that sprung forward like the ocean waves earlier. He looked into that memory only finding the shore next to him empty, just as his bedside.

“Here, we’ll allow this for you, Soldier Odair.” The doctor voices as she opened Finnick’s right hand and laid a small, coarse rope in his palm. The length could not have been more than a foot long. Long enough for him to do even the most intricate knots but also safe enough for him not to get any ideas of creating something hazardous for himself.

”Thank you.” He muttered running his thumb over the rope. It was foreign to his callus hands. The twine they had in District Four had a different texture of material, or maybe that was only his wishful thinking. This rope was rougher and unfamiliar but it would do the job. Keep the poor, broken boy from District Four from sobbing through the night as loneliness loomed over him. His hands would be occuppied, though, the terrors that crept in the shadows of his mind would still bring life to the fears of his lovely girl. But maybe, he could be occuppied enough to be reminded of home that would keep him at the shoreline—safe enough to make it through these underground days.

For the sound of the waves bring peace to those who fear drowning in the despair they share. As they know clear that the waters cannot harm them while they are here. The shore is safe to those held dear. With gentle breezes are soft kisses that bring comfort even when they may mean goodbye. Carry the sand as it always stays with you to never be forgotten the time spent on the shore. With the sound of the waves that ring of peace.

[star-spacer]

Pickled Plums

Adashino x reader x Ginko (can be read as platonic or romantic)

You loved the noise of cicadas in the ripe summer air.

Gravel crunched beneath your sandals as dappled sunlight filtered down from the canopy of green. It was the apex of summer and the forest was ripe and heavy with life and heat. From your peripherals, you could see the glowing forms of the familiar mushi dancing through the air. They were the same types that often frequented the village, a sure sign that your journey was coming to an end. You wondered if Ginko had yet to see them from wherever he was behind you.

The satchel sitting on your hip alongside the pack on your back was a reminder of the gifts wrapped lovingly in twine and leaves. Gifts for Adashino and Ginko both, picked specifically with them in mind as well as the food carefully preserved by a bit of yokai magic and plenty of salt. The thought of rice and Adashino’s pickled radish made you drool, and you had no doubts that Ginko’s endless stomach would appreciate some food as well.

 Cries of seabirds and waves crashing against the shore slowly began to replace cicadas as the forest opened up to show a fishing village in the distance. Your speed picked up, eagerly scattering pebbles at the sight of the clay-shingle roofs. As you passed through the dirt streets, villagers caught sight of you and an excited wind began to catch the sleepy adobes.

Calls of your name began to echo through the air as those living there went out to greet you.

“It’s you!”

“Welcome back!”

“Oho going to see the doctor aren’t we?”

The last one was met with a delighted laugh, your eyes twinkling with mirth at the old man. “Of course! Is he home right now?”

“He should be!” Another woman called, her child waving at you from behind her. “He just finished treating Aoi’s son a little bit ago.”

“Thank you,” you called back gratefully. Turning around to the villagers, you put a finger to your lips and winked. “I think Ginko is arriving soon, don’t tell any of them that I’m here, alright?”

“Cheeky!”

“We won’t,” The old man chuckled. “Good to know all three of you are back in town for a while. We were beginning to wonder when we’d see you two wanderers again.”

You shrugged as your eyes caught sight of a minuscule movement from the alleyway.

“We can never stay for long,” you said. “But we’ll always come back, of course. If you don't mind…” Your head tilted towards the alleyway, indicating your wish to leave.

“Of course!” He guffawed, stepping aside. 

“Here, here!” A man said, shoving an earthenware jar into your arms. “For you all. A thank you to the doctor for treating my little Tsumiki last month.”

“O-Oh thank you so much.” You bowed your head, clutching the clay pot in your arms. “I'll be on my way then.”

“Eager huh? I know how it was when I was your age. Ah, younguns…Always have one place or another to be.”

You brushed past them with a smile and a parting promise. “I’ll come back down to visit later.”

“You better!”

“We’ll be waiting, young lady.”

You threw back a wave, attention focused on the alleyway where you saw it. Stepping into the shade, you stopped to listen for the quiet noise of something moving. Your sharp ears finally picked up something.

There. To your left.

“Here you are, little one,” you murmured crouching down and setting the jar down next to you with a soft ‘thump’. Reaching forward, you cupped the spirit in your palms. There was an offended squeak and the flower yokai opened a bulbous, yellow eye in the middle of its petals. Upon seeing your face, its petals snapped back close with a quiver and another squeak. A nature yokai then.

“Sssh, it’s okay,” you soothed, stroking a finger down its body. It was smooth and lumpy, like one of those sea anemones Ginko showed you on the coast that you both went to once. After a moment, the petals crept back open and the yokai peeked back out, its big watery eye staring back at you. 

You gave it a soft smile and it quivered before wiggling back and forth before unfurling completely.

“There you are…You shouldn’t be here,” you told it. “It’s not safe for you to be here. Come with me and I’ll bring you somewhere safer, alright?”

You put the yokai on your shoulder, where it snuggled into the shoulder of your traveling yukata. You smiled and picked up the jar before setting off again for Adashino’s house at the other edge of the village. There would be nature there, where it could thrive and survive better than the streets of mankind. Yokais like these ones never survived for long in human settlements, dependent on green life to draw their energy source. Without it, they would wither and fade away. You were glad that you came across it when you did.

Slowly, the slope of the road increased as you reached the edge of the village. Yet your speed picked up all the same. Home was so close, you could almost taste it, that house upon the hill with its shelves of artifacts and rosewood-scented halls. 

Brown shingles peeked over the crest of the hill and you grinned, shifting the jar to one arm and placing your free one on the bag at your hip.

“Hang on,” you told the yokai on your shoulder.

An affirmative squeak was given and you broke into a full sprint over the ground, kicking up dust behind your sandals. At the new pace, it took no more than a few minutes to finally reach Adashino’s house. A jump cleared the stones at the foot of his house and you clattered onto the engawa, kicking your sandals off noisily.

“Adashino!!!!!” You yelled, letting your voice echo through the halls.

There was a clatter and someone yelping before Adashino stumbled out from an adjoining hallway, fixing his monocle. “Huh?”

He squinted at you, vision adjusting to the stark sunlight after being inside for so long. After a moment, his eyes widened as it clicked. He said your name sharply.

“You’re back!”

You nodded, shifting the earthenware jar to both your arms and showing it to him as well as the satchel to your side. “And I brought gifts too!”

Adashino tilted his head and moved forward, reaching out to take the vase away from you. “What's all this?” 

Shrugging, you relinquished it to the dark-haired man’s grasp. “Haven’t looked yet. Tsumiki’s father gave it to me just earlier as thanks for you treating her.”

He hummed, lifting the lid and you stuck your head over the opening to peer into it with him. Seeing the sight of green in pickling sauce made you gasp.

“Kyurizuke!”

“Ah… It is cucumber season, after all.”

“This could go really well with some of the stuff you have, Adashino!” You turned to him excitedly. “We should make some food! I also brought back some things too! Ginko should be arriving at the end of the day so maybe we can all eat together.”

“Are you sure this isn’t just a ploy to get into my cabbage stock?” The doctor asked you, raising one eyebrow. He startled as he made eye contact with the yokai on your shoulder, jolting back. “Ah–”

“Oh right!” You chirped. “I saw this yokai on the streets heading here. I’m going to release it near the treeline so it can go back to the forest.”

Adashino sighed, stepping aside and flapping a hand towards the back entrance of the home. “Go on do that then. Leave your bags here. I can get started on lunch.”

You grinned gratefully, carefully singing the bags of your shoulders. “Sounds good!”

“Oh, and stop bringing strays back to my house! I keep on having to redirect them away when you’re not here.”

You laughed and departed for the clearing, bare feet slapping against the warm ground, humming a jaunty tune. The yokai on your shoulder swayed along to your movement as you stepped into the shadows of the trees and kneeled down at the base of one. Your hands came up to move the spirit off your shoulders and it was brought to the front of your face.

It chirped and you smiled, letting out an animal-like coo in return. “Be safe, alright? Don’t wander into the human settlements like today, it’s not good for you.”

Your hand lowered and allowed the yokai to hop off, stubby limbs wiggling happily and it hopped into the underbrush. Just before it completely ducked under the leaves, it turned around to wave at you. You waved back and with a final cry, it turned around and vanished into greenery like it was never there. A moment passed as you stared at that spot with a bittersweet smile. Your job was done, fulfilling your duty as the bridge between yokai and humans once more. Like the others, you would never see it again, but there was solace in the knowledge that it was able to live its existence. With that, you quietly got to your feet and padded away.

***

“Come here help me get all of this onto the tray,” Adashino instructed, jerking his head to the various bowls as he picked up his own wooden board. “You wanted to have all these side dishes so you’re carrying them all. Come on, we’ll set stuff out on the engawa in the front.”

You hefted the plate up in one hand, pilling the dishes onto it easily. “On it.”

Adashino gawked and grumbled as you swept past him easily.

The pair of you made a few more trips before settling down at the edge of the doorway, midway between the engawa and the house. Adashino tugged the rag under the miso soup, moving the whole pot into the middle between you two and you rearranged the rest of the pickle bowls around that, the rice, and the cooked fish.

“Ah, hold on…” You said, leaning over to grab your satchel. You flipped the woven lid up and reached in to withdraw several wrapped packages and set them alongside the food. “I got us some stuff from one of the towns I was at.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Oh don’t worry. You should know that I’m well-versed enough in magic to preserve a little bit of food.”

“What’s this about food without me?”

The both of you perked up at that voice, attention snapping to the edge of the yard where a white-haired man stood.

“Ginko!” Adashino called. “Hey!”

You shot to your feet with another cry of his name, ditching your sandals where they were and launching yourself at him. Ginko grunted as you crashed into him, staggering at the force of your collision.

“Geez,” he grumbled, wheezing as you squeezed him in a hug. “Missed me much?”

The smoke of his mushi warding cigarette tickled your nose and you pulled back, sneezing heavily. However, despite the warding affecting you to some extent, it didn’t stop your face from splitting into a wide grin. “Duh. Come on, put your pack down, and let’s eat. No matter what you think, we were waiting for you.”

Adashino made a sound. “Maybe you should be quicker next time.”

“Hmph.” Ginko took his cigarette out, snubbing it and tossing the butt into the shrubbery to the dark-haired man’s dismay. As you pranced back to where Adashino was sitting, Ginko slung off his traveling case and set it down next to your own bags. He settled down with a groan, relieved to be off his feet after a long day.

As Adashino began to portion out the soup and rice, your deft fingers unknotted the twine trying up your first bundle of food. There was an electric crackle in the air that made both men pause, and a snap as verdant leaves opened to reveal pristine triangles of plump rice.

“Your magic?” Ginko asked as you reached to undo the other bundle.

You nodded. “Just a simple one for these to keep as I traveled back.”

There was a second snap and this time it revealed wrinkly dried fruits, the sour smell of pickled plums wafting up to join the other food odors in the air. Both of them immediately knew what those were and Adashino winced.

“I’m not touching those,” Ginko declared, reaching for one of the rice balls from the first bundle. He took a bite from it, not seeing Adashino trying to stop him. “I know that whatever you brought home, those are not normal umeboshi and–”

His expression deadpanned, lips thinning and eye twitching as the flavor finally hit him. Seeing that, you cracked.

“I tried to stop you…” Adashino sighed while you cackled. “But you weren’t paying attention.”

“I was going to say…” You began, trying to find air between your laughter as you scooped up your own rice ball. “I visited the Valley of the Plums. There was a seasonal shop there known for its intensely sour plums, so I got some to take home.”

A massive bite was taken out of yours, you humming in delight as you finally indulged in the treats after so long. Though you favored the sour flavors the same couldn’t be said for either of the men, who stared at you warily as you ate your rice ball with no reaction.

Adashino, fooled by your lack of response, tentatively reached for one of his own. “It can’t be that bad right…?” He picked it up and brought it closer to inspect it. Like he would one of his mushi items,

“Do it,” Ginko demanded.

The man, fool as he was, gave into his temptations and bit into it. His face puckered up, such a comical expression that sent you into another round of raucous laughter and even sparked Ginko to chuckle too.

“By the gods!” Adashino exclaimed once he got his mouthful down. “People eat this? This should belong on the shelves of my collectibles. Ginko why did you tell me to eat it?”

The said man forced himself to take another bite. “If I have to go through it, so do you. Someone has to go through this with me since this one–” he jerked a thumb to you, innocently sipping your miso soup to wash down your finished rice ball, “–is completely immune to everything.”

You smiled peacefully. “There are just the plain plums too if any of you want to eat them with the rest of the food."

“No way!!”

[parcequecestnotreprojeeeet]

Hi, it’s me, Fanfic Anon #2. The comment the Anon made yesterday, and the Tweet you shared EMT, about him never getting the credit for the good stuff, only the blame, inspired this piece. Hope you all enjoy!

“Run away with me,” he whispered, breaking the quiet stillness that had settled over them as they caught their breath, twined so closely together, it was unclear where he ended and she began.

Her head snapped up quickly from where it was lying on his chest, her ear pressed against each now slowing heartbeat. “What?” She asked, making sure she heard him right.

“Run away with me,” he repeated, this time louder, more sure of himself, lifting his own head slightly to look her in the eyes.

“Chéri, we can’t do that,” she laughed, trying to laugh it off gently.

“Why not?” He challenged.

“Well, for one, there’s our children and our grandchildren,” she pointed out.

“There are planes and phones. It’s not as if we’d go to a remote private island,” he answered, thinking through the obstacles.

“You’d get bored giving this all up,” she pointed out, knowing how much her husband needed a challenge, needed stimulation.

“Nah, I think we’d find ways to fill the time,” he stated suggestively, his hand moving against her meaningfully.

“We can’t just have sex,” she rolled her eyes, swatting gently at her insatiable husband.

“Ooh! There’s an idea!”

“I’m being serious, Emmanuel!” She yelled, getting tired of this game and sitting up to separate them enough to have an adult conversation.

“So am I!” He yelled back. “Think about it. You could go back into teaching, I could write. No one would bother us or invade our privacy. We could just be, you and me. And our family when they visit. Doesn’t that sound like the most marvelous thing in the world?”

“What’s going on, mon cœur? This isn’t like you. You don’t quit. You don’t even think about quitting.”

“I’m just so tired, Brigitte. I’m tired of all the good I do being ignored and all the bad I do causing all this,” he sighed gesturing widely.

“Ah,” she nodded sagely. “Well, there is that. Trust me, I do understand the impulse to live in a fantasy, but, chéri -“

“I know, I know.”

“Do you though? Do you know how much good you do? How much good you have done? How much good you will do? Because I think if you did know, really know, the way I know, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. Oh, mon cœur, if only you could see you like I see you.”

“Yeah? How do you see me?”

“Fishing for compliments now, are we?” She teased, gently bumping his shoulder with hers. More seriously, she turned to him, and told him, “you are the best man I have ever met, the best leader I have ever seen, and the best part of me.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s the other way around,” he demurred.

“What do you mean?” She asked confused.

“You are the best part of me,” he replied sincerely, heart overflowing with love for her, gently pressing a kiss to the back of her hand that was clutching his. “Thank you,” he said after a few minutes of silence together when he had regained his composure.

“For better or worse, you know. I really meant it.”

“When this is over, though -“ he started with a smile.

“Oh when this is over, you are buying me that private island,” she joked with a smile.

Hellooo fanfic Anon #2! ❤️

Aww but just how precious are these two? 🥺 Emmanuel being tired of never getting recognition for the good he does and the bad just getting things into chaos... it’s so heartbreaking and one just wants to hold this sweet potato and tell him that everything will be okay 🤧

And yes, that private island will wait for them 🤧

Thank you so much, fanfic Anon #2! ❤️❤️❤️