#the gentle doe-like stumbling through genuine long term feelings for someone for the first time

[devilfic]

I needed some comfort so I indulgently wrote a kaeya fic in under an hour and now I have a c... I have a crus... Ihaveacrushonhim 

[whereisten]

Promises

“I make no promises, I can't do golden rings, but I'll give you everything tonight”

Pairing: Mafia Leader!Jaehyun x female reader (cafe owner)

Genre: Friends to lovers au, fluff, smut and angst at the end I’m sorry :(

Warnings: shower sex, unprotected sex, slight choking kink, slight innocence/corruption kink, oral sex (male receiving), brief mention of violent attack towards the end

Word Count: 3k

((A/N: this is a short fic inspired by the song “Promises” by Calvin Harris & Sam Smith. I’ve been obsessed with it for a while now so I hope you enjoy!!!!))

——————

“Why do you always come to me when you’re bruised and beat the hell up?” You rushed you your bathroom to grab your first aid kit.

“And now, you’re bleeding all over my floor..damn it Jaehyun!”

Jaehyun only gave you a half smile as he watched you walk back and forth while flailing your arms in the air. He sat on the couch and held his stomach while breathing heavily.

“Last time I checked, I don’t have a son that’s a gang leader! Why don’t you go to your mom’s house?”

You sat down beside him with a bowl of warm water and a cloth to wipe his bloody mouth.

Jaehyun was just a man that frequented the coffee shop your worked at. He liked looking at you while he sipped his coffee at the table in the corner, you were the calmest thing his eyes saw in his chaotic world. He was quite nervous to speak to you, and as the leader of a mafia, he wasn’t sure why.

But just a few months ago, he finally mustered up the courage to speak to you.

The two of you grew relatively close. He stayed with you when you closed the cafe by yourself, making sure no creeps followed you home, but he also just wanted to talk with you.

Something about you made him feel..happy.

You weren’t like everyone else in his life, you didn’t have any experience with crime and you sure as hell didn’t want any, but despite learning about who Jaehyun really was, you still stuck around.

You didn’t push him away, you only asked that he make sure to not bring that mess in the shop. You were also interested in him.

The two of you talked about movies, music, food, virtually anything. You clicked like you had been friends for years.

Jaehyun was somewhat satisfied with being your friend, but he knew he needed more. He felt a tinge of jealousy when he watched you smile with other customers. Your eyes crinkling at the sides as you laughed. Your voice was soothing, heavenly even. In a cruel world like this, not everyone deserved to share a space with you, he thought.

Oh and the twinkle in your eyes when you got excited about perfectly baked and iced cupcakes. He loved it. He loved everything you did a little too much.

A clear sign to him that he was too far gone. But what would happen if he asked you to date him? Would you say yes or would you say no and would the friendship be ruined?

“Jaehyun...when are you gonna protect this handsome face of yours?”

You asked while delicately wiping the blood from his face away. It has trickled down his neck, covering his intimidating demon neck tattoo in the process.

Your sweet voice disrupted his thoughts as he looked back at your worried face.

You were close to him, lips just centimeters away from each other.

Should he close the distance? No, that’s creepy. And what about his hands? Can he touch your back? No, definitely creepy.

Jaehyun was a murderer and criminal, but a creep he was not.

And almost as if you hear his thoughts run wild because of your close proximity to him, you look up with those large doe eyes and lock them with his. Your chest is stuck in place, you lick your lips, but quickly shift your attention away from his eyes and look to his neck.

Your hand stops moving and Jaehyun’s mouth opens slightly as if he’s about to tell you to keep touching him.

But instead, he apologizes.

“I’m-I’m sorry for always coming to you like this..”

He sounds genuine and your heart drops at how soft his voice sounds.

“Jaehyun..can you..kiss me?” You let out quietly without actually thinking it through.

Jaehyun’s eyes widen and he moves forward without hesitation.

Your lips finally lock as the cloth slowly drops out of your hand.

Jaehyun holds you close, pressing his palm into your back while you roll your body into his, gently pushing him into the couch more.

He looked amazing in his tight black t-shirt and you had to admit, you just wanted to feel his body on yours. His eyes were always dark and tempting as they watched you, tracing over your figure whenever you reached up high for something in the bakery.

He was a typical bad boy, irresistible, sexy, and dangerous. But Jaehyun has only showed you kindness. He was a normal person, besides the life of crime he lived.

Jaehyun takes your limp and awkward arms and wraps them around his neck while you kiss. Contrary to his rough look (created by the scary tattoos and black attire he had), Jaehyun was incredibly soft, delicately pressing his fingers in your back to massage it. His mouth caressed yours slowly, passionately but still yearningly.

He closed his eyes first, turning his head so his tongue could dance with yours.

Your hands ran down his chest tenderly as the sounds of labored breathing and quiet moaning filled the apartment.

“Jaehyun..” you whisper, asking for more without actually posing the question.

You bite your lips and look at his eyes. You take his hands and intertwine your fingers with them.

He breathes heavily and watches your lips.

You bring his hands under your oversized T shirt and take in a sharp breath when you feel his cold fingers on the sensitive skin below your breasts.

Jaehyun doesn’t know if he’s lightheaded from the blood loss or the fact that he’s finally touching you.

You still hold his hands, bringing them to your breasts and moaning once you feel his large, calloused and bruised hands on you.

Your head falls back and Jaehyun immediately leans forward and lays sloppy kisses on your neck, his hands now kneading into your breasts and palming the hard tips.

Your hand reaches down to his jeans now, patting the bulge in them gently.

Jaehyun bucks into your hand on instinct and nips your neck. You cry out, but he then holds your throat, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Jaehyun nearly screams when you look down at him through your lashes. His tongues darts out over his swollen lips as he blinks rapidly. He wants to take you but the dealings of earlier have made him sweaty and dirty, and being a nasty man for you just isn’t what he wants. So he thinks of the perfect way to please you.

You’re about to question why he stopped, but then he smirks.

“Bathroom. Where’s your bathroom?”

————

Your hand flings against the light switch as your two bodies stumble into the bathroom.

Your lips are locked as Jaehyun takes and moans that you have for him. Your bodies are hot and needy, you’ve teased each other enough already and are both in need of release.

You and Jaehyun help each other strip down completely naked before getting into the shower.

Jaehyun presses you into the chilly wall of the shower, your shoulder blades feeling attacked instantly. But his luscious lips on yours make you forget the pain soon enough.

You squeeze some body wash onto your hands and coat Jaehyun’s body with it, slowly caressing his sculpted body while he groans. Your touch drives him crazy. “Fuck..” he mutters our as your hand runs over the silky skin of his pelvis, so close to his hard member, but not close enough.

The hot water decorates your bodies and only adds to the heat between the two of you. Soon the steam builds up in the bathroom and you are both taking deeper breaths between kisses.

Jaehyun returns the favor by rubbing you down with body wash all over, teasing you while watching you tremble with a smirk.

He kneels down and runs his hands up and down your thighs, slowly working their way inwards and up to your folds. His long fingers just barely touching against your bud. So close, but not close enough. You bite your lips and bring yourself closer to him but he chuckled.

“Mmm being teased isn’t nice, is it, baby?” He winks.

“If we stay any longer in this shower, you owe me half of the water bill.”

He stands up straight and chuckles. “You know me, baby, I always pay my dues.”

“Is that so? So how did you end up with those bruises, huh? You-“

Jaehyun shut you up with a kiss. Your eyes fluttered shut and you couldn’t help but smile.

He grabs your legs by the crook of the knees and wraps them around his waist before pulling away to look into your eyes. His playfulness has disappeared and you both swallow hard.

“Are you sure you want this...with me?” Jaehyun asks quietly.

You gulp and look at his neck tattoo, the one thing that constantly reminded you that he was no normal man. He wasn’t gonna be someone you could tell your parents or friends about. He wasn’t someone you could walk in the park with. He wasn’t someone you could walk down the aisle or raised kids with one day. No. He’s a gang leader. Someone that lived a life you didn’t understand. One that was just downright scary to you. And yet here he was, resting between your legs, ready to take you.

Jaehyun tried not to think too much about the doubt that he saw in your eyes when he asked if this was something that you wanted. But he knew you were conflicted. His reputation wasn’t great and you were scared, he had to understand that. You had reservations about him and unfortunately, he couldn’t promise to prove you or anyone else wrong. He couldn’t promise to be the long term partner you deserved.

Nonetheless, Jaehyun has showed you a side no one knew. He opened up to you and you opened up to him. You had more in common than you had ever expected.

You nodded.

“Fuck me, Jaehyun.” You whisper lowly.

Jaehyun smirks when the word falls out of your beautiful mouth, making him weak and even harder than he was before.

He pushes forward, teasing your entrance as he runs the tip along the folds, parting them every now and then.

You whimper, your mouth falling open as it feels incredible just to have some sort of friction against your needy pussy.

Jaehyun goes back to sucking your neck while one hand takes a fistful of hair.

His other hand pumps up and down his length as the sounds of your moans are muffled by the thunderous flow of water from the shower head.

“J-Jaehyun, please.”

Jaehyun places both hands on your thighs now, pushing into you slowly with his hard cock.

You gasp and hold onto his shoulders, your back riding up against the tiled wall as you pant.

Your heart feels like it’s stuck in your throat while Jaehyun stretches you out. He grunts and pulls back before pushing in slowly again.

“Fuck..you feel amazing.” Jaehyun’s member is comforted by your silky, tight walls closing around him with each push.

Your head falls back again and he watches your radiant skin sparkle with water drops that run down your neck and into the crevice if your breasts. It’s a beautiful sight for him and he never wants to forget it.

He then sucks hard into your neck as his speed increases. Your mouth stays open as you whimper and grip his shoulders, your nails digging into the skin.

When you looked at Jaehyun as he stares at your lips through low eyes, you feel butterflies in your stomach. His black hair plastered onto his forehead gave him a more gentle look, and his slightly parted lips were so kissable, you wanted to feel them everywhere.

But his dark eyes. Eyes of a wolf that watched his prey. You felt desired, wanted, special..

he groans as he gets closer, you can feel his dick twitch each time it enters you, and you know he is hesitant to go harder on you.

“It’s okay, Jaehyun.”

Jaehyun’s eyes widened. “A-are you sure?” He he snaps his hips into you hard as if to give you a teaser of what’s to come.

“Yes!” You cry out at the sudden feeling of him in the base of your stomach.

And so, he continues to push into your pussy harder. A mixture of your loud moans and his grunts filling the bathroom. The tip of his cock hit your depths as he pushed all the way in, leaving your legs weak as they widened more. Your spine tingled with pleasure.

Your back becomes numb as it rubs against the wall repeatedly, but you don’t mind. Jaehyun fills you up so satisfyingly and the way his skin presses against yours just adds to the erratic feeling you have inside. He breathes hard against your shoulder as his hips snap into yours.

Jaehyun puts a hand around your neck and looks into your eyes. You immediately nod before he kisses you, biting his lip as he pulls away.

He squeezes it while you moan, your close so Jaehyun rubs circles into your bud. You ignore the aching feeling in your trembling legs and shit your eyes tightly.

“Oh fuck, Jaehyun, yes..”

He grinds into you even harder and soon you feel yourself climax, you clench around him as his grip on your throat tightens.

You cry out his name as he continues to push into your throbbing and soaking flower, but he pulls out quickly.

“On your knees.” His tone is gravelly and surprisingly demanding for the first time this evening.

But you don’t hesitate to drop your knees for him and open your mouth.

“Can I?” He tilts his head and gives you a cocky expression because he already knows your answer.

You nod and without a second to spare, Jaehyun shoves himself into your throat, immediately hitting the back of it and making you gag, but you ignore the pain and hollow your cheeks.

The water hits your sore back as Jaehyun fucks into your mouth with his hand on the back of your head.

Tears run down your cheeks, but you feel yourself become increasingly wet every time he grunts or curses. Looking up at the tattooed man above you as he slowly loses it just makes you think of all the ways you’d love to have him ruin your insides, and even though you just came, you want more.

Jaehyun can’t get enough of your wet and wide eyes. You looks so innocent and pure, yet so nasty for him as spit runs down your chin. He pushes in faster and you him to push him along.

“Oh, fuck...Swallow.” He demands once again before shooting out strings of white onto the surface of your throat. He releases everything into you then pulls out while breathing heavily.

He helps you to your feet and uses a washcloth to clean the spit and cum from your chin.

He then cleans between your legs and watches you giggle as he purposefully tickles you.

He carries you off to your bed and lays you down while smiling softly.

“Did..you like that?” Jaehyun was surprised with himself, he normally didn’t care for a girl after fucking her. He’d send them in their way whether or not they were satisfied because only he mattered. But you. He wanted you to be satisfied, more than satisfied to be exact.

Your approval meant something to him and part of him hated that.

“Yes, I did. I’m always down for another round some time.” You gave him a wink and blushed.

“It’s funny because I wanted to ask you something..” Jaehyun looked away and onto the blanket that covered your body. He felt like he was back in middle school and about to ask his crush to the dance.

You had a feeling you knew what was coming.

“Will you-?” Jaehyun was interrupted by his phone. He cursed and took it out of his pocket, his soft demeanor shifting as his expression grew irritated.

“Give me one sec.” he looked away from your look of disappointment and left your bedroom.

You couldn’t hear what he said on the phone, but you knew that he looked angry when he saw the name on the caller id.

Jaehyun hung up and walked back into the room. He started to put on his clothes in silence while you clenched your blanket and watched.

“What’s wrong, Jaehyun?” You asked so softly, Jaehyun wanted to give in and cuddle with you all night. But he couldn’t, especially not after hearing what he just heard from his henchman. Someone from his rival gang had stalked and attacked the girlfriend of one of his gang member’s.

She survived but was hurt badly in the knife attack and it just served as a reminder to him of the kind of life he lived. He couldn’t live happily. He couldn’t love someone like you and put your life in danger just for his own benefit. He had to end things now before it got too late.

“Jaehyun..were you going to ask me to be your girlfriend?”

“Girlfriend? Listen..y/n..what we did..it was great but let’s be realistic..we would never last. We’re just too different.” Jaehyun couldn’t look at you when he said this. He was just so angry with himself. How could he get so emotionally involved? How could he fall in love so easily while knowing that nothing good could come of it?

“But Jaehyun..” you started but he grabbed his jacket and headed for the door.

“I..won’t be seeing you again, y/n. I regret ever meeting you.” His brows furrowed. How could he be so mean? He had to push you away, even if it meant saying cruel and untrue things.

Your eyes started to tear up. “W-What do you mean? What’s wrong?” You jumped off the bed and walked towards him, confused as to why his mood shifted and why he was acting like this.

But you were too late. He already slammed the door shut and headed down the hallway, pacing fast towards the elevator.

[actuallysaiyan]

Yamcha SFW Alphabet, please? Thanks :)

I tag @beneathstarryskies because she is a huge Yamcha fan!!

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Yamcha is incredibly affectionate. He shows his affection through gifts and physical touch. He will always look out for you too and make sure you are doing your best. He is very supportive as a friend and lover, so really he’s just so nice all around.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Yamcha is a fun loving friend. He loves to hang out with you and just do fun things. He likes to do stuff like go-karting, mini golf, going to play some arcade games, hikes in the mountains or even just watching a movie. He would be the type to introduce himself to you first and it wouldn’t take long for you two to hit things off.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He loves to cuddle! Nothing better than to hold you close and wrap himself around you to keep you warm and comforted. One of his favorite things to do with you is to watch a movie with you and cuddle up on the couch. If it’s cold outside, you can expect some yummy hot cocoa and some cookies to go with those sweet cuddles. Yamcha loves holding you to his chest and stroking your hair or massaging you.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Yamcha would love to settle down with you if he gets the chance to. He’s not the most keen on cooking and cleaning, but he would do it for you. If you wanted to settle down with him and make him feel loved and happy, he would learn to be domestic. What he’d truly enjoy is for you to be his bimbo wife.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

It would be bitter, sad and terrible. Yamcha would hate it. He hates the idea of hurting you. It would take everything deep inside of him to not be cold about it. If he has to break up with you because of something you did, it’s very bitter and mean. But if you break up because of something he did, he’s going to be so devastated.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

All Yamcha wants is a wife. He wants someone to make him feel loved and supported all the time. Someone he can build a life together and support and just be happy with. Nothing would make him more happy than if you were to settle down as soon as you felt ready for it.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He’s very gentle. He loves making sure he doesn’t use his strength on you, seeing as he is very strong and he doesn’t always know his own strength. In terms of emotionally, he is generally gentle and sweet but sometimes he may crack jokes that only he finds funny and that might hurt your feelings. If that’s the case, all you need to do is tell him and he will apologize.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He loves to hug! They are tight, warm and just feel so safe and secure. He will hug you any chance he gets. It just feels so nice to him. Holding you in his arms is one of the best feelings in the whole world. He will do anything to have his hands on you.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

It will slip out of him so early, he’s quite a bit embarrassed about it. Yamcha falls for people a little too quickly, and because he has always had this phobia of talking to girls, it just makes everything worse. He will stumble on his words and tell you he loves you early in the relationship, but he truly means it.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

He gets pretty jealous. If anyone thinks they can get their hands on you, you better believe that Yamcha is going to turn possessive. It can get pretty dark when he’s jealous, so you may need to reassure him. It’s not his fault, he has some insecurities.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Yamcha loves to give all kinds of kisses. It depends on his mood and what part of your body he’s kissing. He loves kissing you whenever and wherever. His favorite places to kiss you are your lips, your tits and your inner thighs. On himself, anywhere goes.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

He’s not bad with children. He’s funny and fun, and he treats them with kindness. He would be such a good father if you wanted to have children with Yamcha. He would be so doting and teach them so much. He’s patient and understanding, so you know he would be so sweet with your children.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Mornings with Yamcha are relaxing. He likes to sleep in when he can and when he finally does roll out of bed, the first thing he does is start up a pot of coffee. Breakfast is usually take-out of sorts unless you feel like cooking. And it’s just pretty relaxing all in all.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Nights with Yamcha can also be very relaxing. A nice dinner with a glass of wine, some soft music and maybe some intimacy. Nothing has to be fancy, but Yamcha will treat you to dinner at a restaurant from time to time. Lots of cuddling if you’re at home.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

It wouldn’t take too long for him to start opening up to you. He would probably leave some details out until you know each other fairly well. He doesn’t want to make you worry too much or scare you off. He’s patient with you and if you are patient with him, he will share some secrets with you.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

It depends on the situation with Yamcha. For the most part, he can keep his cool. He can be cocky sometimes if someone tests his patience, but he’s not meaning to be too cruel. He wants to be level headed.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He remembers a lot about you. It means so much to him to be able to remember your favorite colors, foods, movies and music. There’s no way he’ll ever forget your birthday or your anniversary. He may be a knucklehead from time to time, but he’s got a very good memory...especially if it involves you.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

The first time you said “I love you”. That’s his favorite memory. You were blushing and being so soft. He felt how genuine you were being just by your soft kisses. The way you held him close, holding onto him as if he might float away any second. It’s just the greatest memory for Yamcha.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He can be very protective, but he does love to give you space and time to do your own hobbies and interests. If you need to be protected, he will fight and defeat anyone causing you grief. He doesn’t mind if you try to protect him, but he’d feel so guilty if you got hurt trying to protect him.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Yamcha enjoys having a balance for this in the relationship. If you want to plan some stuff, he is not at all against it. Sometimes he’s got things planned and they can be so special too. He doesn’t want to spend too much time on everyday things, but he does love to spoil you.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He doesn’t always get his dirty clothes in the laundry hamper. He can be a little bit of a slob sometimes, but he does make a concerted effort to clean up after himself when you move in with him. He doesn’t want you to baby him too much.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Yamcha always wants to look his best, especially if he’s going on a date with you. He will not expect it from you, but if you want to look nice for him, he’s going to be pretty happy about it.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

He’d be insanely lost without you. You help him stay sane. You help bring structure and responsibility to his life. You make him feel wanted and loved, and that’s all he ever really wanted.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Yamcha wants to teach you how to protect yourself! He would even show you how to do some of his signature fighting moves if you’d want to learn. He loves the idea of you being around him so much and he just gets to show you how to fight.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Yamcha doesn’t like cheaters or liars. He just wants people to be upfront and kind to him. He will show that same kindness if it’s being extended to him. He doesn’t want people to use him because he is a great guy.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

He snores lightly, but he is a big cuddler. You will never feel cold or lonely with Yamcha in your bed. He holds you close every single night.

[stupid-sloot-headcanons]

listen listen i know u like dc i know you like dc villains ca n i request ... somethung with scarecrow. like, noncon scarecrow pls i lve him and need the conetnt

I think Scarecrow would find it difficult to pursue any kind of romantic relationship. His research is too important, so any Darling he’d have is one he develops a fixation over as opposed to a genuine romantic obsession. They’re someone he has easy access to, someone who’s probably interested in psychology and that he doesn’t find to be too annoying or foolish. I’m imagining someone like a fresh-faced intern at Arkham that’s a little too sympathetic and eager to listen to their patients, and who genuinely finds Crane’s views on fear interesting.

He’s had some thoughts about how something like Ivy’s pheromones could potentially heighten or alter the fear response in someone exposed to his toxin at the same time. At first he just mulls it over as purely academic, especially since ____ is so interested in his theories (they may have even offered to try and find more “ethical” ways to test them, bless their heart). His own sex drive isn’t that high since he’s busy with his plans for Gotham and his toxin, but when he was younger he couldn’t deny that some of his stress was relieved--if only for a short while--by having an orgasm with the help of his hand and some  “impure thoughts” (as Grandma Keeny would call them) while he was home alone. So, he decides to just kill two birds with one stone and just take ____ for himself.

Arkham is pathetically easy to break out of, especially for a veteran like Scarecrow. He’s got a few hideouts and labs set up around Gotham, and he gets one set up for a long-term test subject/live-in stress doll. He manages to get a decent amount of Ivy’s distilled pheromones either through persuasion or just stealing it, and he has some extra food and water stored along with some powerful sedatives and restraints. From there, it’s just a matter of stalking ____ and finding a moment in their routine to have some henchmen drug her and deliver them to the right hideout.

When ____ wakes up, strapped to a bed with nothing on but a generic medical gown while Scarecrow looks down at her, she immediately knows that she should’ve listened to her mentor’s advice on not getting to close or complacent with patients. Any feeble attempts to plead with “Professor Crane” fall on deaf ears, and the way her voice grows more and more shrill and unstable as he comes closer to inject her is exhilarating to him. He’s used to having a sense of professional detachment with his subjects, but this kind of experiment requires him to be up-close and personal.

He doesn’t talk much as he carries out his “experiment”, aside from any verbal notes he makes while his tape recorder captures every second for his research notes. His voice does waver slightly as he describes her symptoms, feeling her writhe around underneath him and looking up at him with those frantic eyes, wide and streaming with tears. He keeps most of his clothes on, just because he doesn’t enjoy the vulnerability that comes with being exposed; this includes his mask, which he hopes can lead ____ to developing a fear response after this just by seeing him wear it.

He’s not experienced at all, but with Ivy’s toxin he really doesn’t need to be. His breaths behind the mask become more and more heated as he gets closer to cumming for the first time in years; his fingernails dig into ____’s skin, adding red crescents to the harsh lines from the straps holding her legs and arms in place and rubbing against her from the friction of jostling back and forth. There’s a strange warmth to her screams and whimpers that he isn’t used to hearing from his subjects, and he’s so glad that they’re permanently captured on his tape recorder so he can hear them over and over again. He’s not used to this much moaning from his other test subjects, but it’s certainly not unwelcome. The cold sweat that normally comes over his victims is practically nonexistent, and instead ____ feels like she’s radiating heat. Her body’s even more sensitive than he predicted, and her shivers of combined fear and arousal are so enticing to him.

He’d likely keep himself from ejaculating inside of her, even if she’s on some form of contraceptive; the last thing he wants is to have a child as a result of this entire affair. The feeling of her clenching around him as she cums, sobbing uncontrollably as she sees horrific visions of her worst nightmares while her body feels as if it’s on fire, her wails ringing in his ears...even if he manages to keep his voice stable on tape (he doesn’t, by the way), he still stumbles when he moves off of her and he can feel his heart racing and finger shaking slightly when he ends the tape.

He’ll wait a fair amount of time before conducting another round of “experiments” with Ivy’s pheromones and his toxin, just to make sure he avoids a) breaking her right away and b) her building up a tolerance to either substance. His “aftercare” is basic and clinical: providing her with cold water and soap to wash with, water and adequate food, throwing a blanket over her when she falls asleep before going back to work, letting her read his books as her only real form of entertainment, etc. Sometimes he doesn’t use any toxin or pheromones whenever he violates her again, instead opting to see how she reacts and how she feels whenever she’s in an unmedicated state. He actually manages to be “gentle” during these times--well, by his standards. There is a part of him that, while not having any real love for them, does feel a slight pang of...maybe sympathy? The closest thing he has to that anymore.

[davids-cartoon-corkboard]

Here’s the final part of the “Raph is a system” theory compilation post! It’s the last of what I can scrape up from canon; while I still have ideas on how it might loop back into character interactions and plot and so on, they’re much more speculative in nature. (Part 1 is here) (Part 2 is here) (You’re reading Part 3)

---

"Red” is the alter with the least screen time, so it took a while for me to connect the dots on when and why he formed.

His shadowed face, the dramatic background music when he speaks, and his seriousness are reminiscent of the “brooding on rooftops in the rain while gloomily staring off into the distance” thing that Raphs throughout the franchise will do sometimes. That’s easy to poke fun at on a superficial level because most of us look back on our edgy phases with self-deprecation, but it’s a lot less funny in the context of the life he lives. Being a normal human teenager in normal human society is a fucking nightmare; being a mutant teenager who has no idea what to expect in terms of development or lifespan, only five people he can safely interact with ever, and a very limited future hiding from everyone else for as long as he lives has got to be just awful.

RR’s few lines in “Pizza Puffs” tell us a lot. “It’s the only way they’ll learn” and “this is for their own good” suggest that he formed when the turtles started exploring more of the sewers and going aboveground, and Being The Leader became more of a responsibility. A thousand new ways for them to get in trouble meant a thousand new ways Raph would have to bail them out, and that got old fast- especially since they didn’t have April’s knowledge to help them in the beginning. I doubt they met her the very first time they left the sewers. The wiki says April knew the boys for five years as of “Mystic Mayhem”, so they would have been nearly eight at the time, perhaps the mental equivalent of a ten- or eleven-year-old human.

A while back I sifted through all the eps with Raph in them in the vague hopes that “Pizza Puffs” wasn’t the only episode featuring RR... and lo and behold, I found something! The shadowed face and dramatic background music are also present in “Minotaur Maze”!

“I can’t do it. I got no mystic mojo. I’m useless.”

“Hey, that’s not true, brother. You just gotta believe in yourself, and know this: If I die in this maze, I will haunt you for the rest of your life.”

(I know that’s only two data points, but y’all canonically cannot scoff at me.) RR shows up when HR is no longer able to tolerate the bullshit at hand. “I’m not going to baby you Leo, get your shit together before your ego kills us all” was a reasonable response to nearly being shish-kebab’d.

“Pizza Puffs”, on the other hand... LDM pulled through in the end, but that RR got HR to stay behind added an unnecessary level of risk. Getting his brothers to learn a lesson should have waited until after the giant mutant cannibal had been dealt with and they were no longer poisoned.

This hands-off “figure it out on your own” approach probably came from Splinter. I swear to Pizza Supreme In The Sky I’m not trying to shit-talk him, but his lack of involvement with his sons was a major flaw. Before all that character development he was terrible at things like “emotional support” and “life lessons”, leaving Raph without the blueprints to deal with a lot of problems. HR would respond by rushing in and figuring things out as he went, but sometimes RR would have to say “No, we’re maxed out and can’t deal with this, we’ve gotta step back”. As we’ve seen in other iterations, when Raph is maxed out and doesn’t step back...

...he goes too far. Plenty of folks have commented on how rarely the Rise turtles smack each other around compared to other versions; it’s telling that RR spoke up just a moment after HR smacked Mikey in “Pizza Puffs”.

Raph is much bigger and stronger than his brothers this time around, meaning such an outburst would have a much higher risk of Genuine Grievous Injury. And while his size and strength also mean a measure of gentleness has been baked into him since day one, there would still be times HR would feel himself boiling over and RR would head off somewhere quiet for fear of the above situation; which was potentially alluded to in “Hot Soup: The Game”.

“You went out on your own when you were his age.”

The context of “Man vs. Sewer” suggests Raph isn’t going to go off on his own without very good reason- such as cooling down before he does something he regrets. That this detail shows up in Casey’s debut episode suggests it is how they will properly meet and bond, since befriending Casey and doing vigilante shit with him is what usually gives Raph a way to blow off steam while having someone nearby to keep him in check. But that probably won’t happen until partway through season 3, since I doubt we can cram the rest of Casey’s redemption arc into the movie alongside the invasion and time travel trauma shenanigans and leader drama. So in the meantime RR will continue to brood on rooftops in bad weather and listen to Ephemerality songs and monologue to himself because he knows nobody’s going to hear him over the incessant background noise that makes up the cities above and below.

I was a bit stumped about how that meeting would take place- the events of the finale (and possibly also the movie) would no doubt have both the human and yokai populations on high alert, making it dangerous for RR to slip away for some peace and quiet. But the events of the finale also gave us some insight on Raph’s powers; he has a way to leave without actually leaving!

Hardlight Clone Jutsu, baby!

So whenever HR finds himself in a particularly sour mood, a wisp of power winds its way up through the open-air portion of the lair and forms into a clone aboveground. HR doesn’t have to leave for a while to cool down before coming back and dealing with the situation calmly, because RR is already on a rooftop somewhere dissipating those bad feelings by listening to the rain and/or yeeting trash cans.

But mutants can’t freely walk the streets of New York, and the Hidden City Police probably still have it out for Raph. And someone, hero or villain, will eventually realize that Raph has a gloomy stray clone running around and ask questions that can’t be answered without cracking open the can of worms that is This Whole Situation. RR needs to get creative. That we’ve seen clones have both full color and the basic red/white palette suggests their color could be altered in other ways; and that the holo-form grew extra arms in the lair fight vs. the Shredder suggests their shape could also be changed further.

So what will he choose to look like, if not his body?

Obviously he’ll use a red and black color palette because it slaps, leaning more towards black since I compared him to Batman back in Part 1. A low-detail design makes it hard to identify him, giving onlookers the impression that they just couldn't see him well in the dark. Mentally filing down his spikes and decreasing the curve of his shell are easy enough, but it takes him a while to figure out five fingers instead of three, and there’s not much he can do about his voice other than lowering the pitch so he just opts to not talk much within earshot of others. A cape further disguises his silhouette and again, it slaps. The impression of a mask means he doesn’t need a face and it lets peoples’ assumptions work for him. Humans are more likely to think he’s human than a Very Human-Shaped Mutant, and yokai come in so many shapes as is that he could be anything from a witch to a dehydrated googlyschmootz.

(You know how it is with franchises. Old patterns repeating in new ways.)

New York City never sleeps, and I doubt the Hidden City does either. He’ll run into Casey eventually, but in the interim he stumbles across and intervenes in some attempted purse-snatchings and kidnappings and the like. Most of the would-be victims use his arrival as their chance to escape, but one of them is too frozen with fear to move until their attackers are chased off into the dark. He escorts them home, and it’s only once they’re at their doorstep that they work up the courage to ask him who he is.

It’s... a difficult question, in more ways than one. “Raph” is out of the question. “Red” isn’t quite right, and neither is “Angel”- they’re a tad too identifying still, and the R.A.P.H. thing was HR’s idea anyway. So he shrugs, and melts away into the shadows.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m Nobody.”

[fruitquake]

realizations pt. 2

part one

read it on ao3

Regulus Black knows he doesn’t like girls. He wishes he did. It would make everything so much easier. But at some point, you have to accept that maybe you aren’t just a late bloomer. Maybe it isn’t just that you “haven’t found the right girl yet”. Maybe it’s just who you are.

Aside from knowing he definitely doesn’t like girls, though, it’s all very confusing. It seemed like a logical conclusion that if he doesn’t like girls, he must like boys.

But then, James Potter kissed him, and he’s pretty sure that if he were gay, it would’ve felt… special. Or it would’ve felt like anything at all. But rather, it felt exactly the same as kissing girls: uncomfortably and wetly smashing your mouths together. He didn’t say any of this to James. He didn’t say anything, actually, just left with what he knows was a terribly transparent excuse. Now, he’s in his room, sitting on the floor and staring out of the window at the few stars visible through the clouds.  

Is there something wrong with him? The question has been echoing in his mind since the kiss. Well, really, it’s been there long before, but he has managed to ignore it well enough before today. It was easy to push it to the back of his mind, and tell himself that he would figure it out eventually and it didn’t really matter.

But… He kissed James. James Potter, the guy who half the girls - and several guys - are utterly enamoured by. James Potter, who is objectively very handsome. And surely, if he were gay, kissing him would’ve felt… good? How is kissing supposed to feel? Regulus has tried it a few times by now, and it has never been the enjoyable experience that people make it out to be.

He is typing the words into google before he even registers having taken his phone out. Is kissing supposed to feel good?

Most of the search results are clinical, detached articles, explaining the biological and social reasons as to why humans like kissing. Until he stumbles upon a blog post on one of those ask-and-answer forums.

Anonymous: need advice!! my friends are constantly going on about their crushes and the people they’ve been with, how much they love kissing, all that stuff. and i just can’t relate at all. i’ve kissed a few boys, and once a girl too, and i don’t understand the hype at all? i’ve never really had a crush on anyone either, i think. all that kissing and dating and sex stuff just seem like a waste of time to me. is there something wrong with me? am i broken or something?

Regulus’s heart stutters as he reads the post through. He… relates to most of it. Is there something wrong with me? It’s the same question that’s been ringing loud and clear through his head since the kiss.

The comments are mostly stuff like “just wait til you’re older” and “you’ll get it when you meet the right person”, and Reg feels his stomach sink. Is that really it? He’s supposed to sit around and wait for “the right person” to come into his life and… fix him? He thinks about James again. James, who is kind and funny and one of his favourite people in the entire world. But kissing him didn’t feel right. It hasn’t felt right with anyone.

But then his eyes catch on another comment on the person’s post: you should look into the terms asexual and aromantic. i don’t think there’s anything wrong with you or that you are broken, but if you don’t have an interest in romance/sex it could be because you’re ace and/or aro.

Asexual and aromantic. Regulus googles both terms, spends hours reading through articles and blog posts and people sharing their experiences, and for the first time in his life he feels… seen. He hadn’t realized how lonely he felt, before discovering that he isn’t alone.

It’s a lot to take in. A lot of thoughts and questions and answers swirling in Regulus’s head. He really, really wants to talk to someone about all of this. But first of all, it’s 3 AM. Secondly, who?

James is… kinda the whole reason he’s having this sexuality crisis to begin with. He is certain he would’ve figured it out anyway at some point, but it’s thanks to James that he is up in the middle of the night, buried in research about his own identity. He doesn’t think he can talk to James about all this. At least not yet.

Then there’s Sirius. Regulus doesn’t know if he would understand. He feels some of that familiar loneliness creep up on him again. He and Sirius are finally close again. After years of division and hurt and pretending the other doesn’t exist, they have a relationship that’s actually good, and Regulus doesn’t want to ruin it. What if Sirius doesn’t understand or doesn’t accept him? He can’t lose his brother again. He doesn’t have anyone else.

Should he just… not tell anyone, then? Perhaps that is best, at least for now, he thinks. If no one knows, no one can judge him for it or tell him that it’s wrong or that his experiences aren’t real. He nods to himself, settling back into bed. It’s better if no one knows.

-

Regulus doesn’t get any sleep that night. Not that he really expected to. He spends the next day dozing off in class and avoiding James. Both are working out great for him until he starts awake, feeling a gentle hand on his shoulder.

He sits up straight on his chair and squints as he looks around. The classroom is empty, except for him and-

“Sorry, did I wake you?” James asks. He's standing beside Regulus’s desk, looking down at him with something like concern.

“S’fine,” Regulus mumbles, stifling a yawn.

James sits on top of the desk next to Regulus’s. “You look tired,” he says. “Are you okay?”

Regulus still doesn’t know how to react to people showing him genuine concern. It’s not something he’s really used to. “I’m fine,” he says, perhaps a bit too forcefully. He stands up, almost knocking over his chair in the process, and starts quickly packing up his things.

“Hey, uh,” James says, nervously messing up his hair in that way he does. “There’s something we should probably talk about.”

The kiss. Reg was desperately hoping James would pretend it never happened. He slings his bag over one shoulder and starts towards the door. “I’m sorta in a rush.”

James stands up. “Reg, please,” he says. “I… I really need to talk to you about it. Please.”

Regulus sighs, but stops in the doorway. “We don’t have to,” he says in an almost pleading tone, turning around to face James. “It doesn’t matter.”

“You don’t understand.” James looks at him with big doe eyes. “Reg, it matters to me.”

He regards James for a while, before nodding, signalling for him to say whatever it is he wants to say.

James takes a deep breath. “So, er… The thing about the kiss,” he begins, fidgeting nervously with the strap of his bag. “It sorta… made me realize something? About myself?”

Regulus has never seen him this nervous. He waits in silence for him to go on.

“Shit,” James mumbles, rubbing his face with his hands. “I feel like I’ve rehearsed this conversation all day, but now I just, like… Have no idea what to say.” He takes another deep breath. “Screw it, I’m just gonna say it, okay? I really fucking liked that kiss and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it and also I’m bisexual.” It comes out as a quick string of words with no pause for James to breathe - or for Reg to interrupt him.

James looks at him; nervous, expectant, awaiting. But Regulus really doesn’t know what to say. He feels a tight knot in his stomach. “Oh,” he finally manages.

“Ah, shit,” James says frantically. “That’s right, there was something else I was gonna say, something important. I, er… I completely get it if you don’t feel the same way. I don’t want this to ruin our friendship, because I really care about you and I don’t wanna lose you. I just… really needed to get this off my chest.”

He sounds so genuine. Of course he does, Reg thinks and feels stupid. When has James ever been anything but genuine, honest and loyal? When has he ever judged Reg or turned his back on him for anything? James knows him better than he allows most people to, and if there’s anyone Reg can talk to about this, it’s him.

“There’s something I need to get off my chest too,” Regulus says quietly.

James’s eyes widen. “Oh? What is it?”

Reg sets down his bag and goes to sit by the desk opposite James. He doesn’t look at him as he starts talking. “I’m aroace. I don’t experience… that kind of attraction. Romantic or sexual. It’s… not exactly that the kiss made me realize it. Or maybe it did. But I kinda already knew. I just… wasn’t ready to admit it to myself, I suppose? Also I didn’t really know the word for it. But… yeah, that’s who I am and I can’t do anything to change that, just as you can’t change the fact that you’re bi, so… I hope you won’t hate me now.”

When James stays quiet, Regulus forces himself to look up. James is looking at him with an unreadable expression, and Reg’s stomach drops. This was a terrible idea. He should’ve known he couldn’t tell anyone. He has ruined everything. James opens his mouth but before he can say anything, Reg has pushed out his chair and is walking toward the door with swift steps.

“Nevermind,” he says, ignoring the stinging of tears in his eyes.

“Reg, wait!”

“Forget everything I just said.”

-

James finds him rather quickly, at the area behind the school that’s nearly hidden with shrubs. It’s where he comes when he needs to be alone, and he knows it’s also where Sirius comes to smoke.

Regulus is sitting on the ground with his back against a tree trunk, not caring if his clothes get dirty. James sits down about a meter away from him, but doesn’t speak, so Regulus is the one to break the silence:

“Are you upset because of my sexuality or because I don’t have feelings for you?” he asks. His voice is harsher than he meant it to be, but at least it’s not shaking.

James draws in a sharp breath, turning to face him. “I’m not upset at all!” he exclaims. “What on earth gave you that idea?”

He’s… not upset? Regulus clears his throat. “Well,” he mumbles. “You didn’t say anything.”

“I’m sorry,” James says earnestly. “I didn’t really know what to say. And you didn’t exactly give me a lot of time to think before you stormed off.”

Now Reg feels like he’s the one who should apologize. He doesn’t, though. Just stares straight ahead at the shrubs surrounding them.

“I’m really sorry I made you feel this way, Reg,” James says softly. “I promise I’m not upset. I care about you. A lot. And I, er… I may not know that much about this stuff, but I’m gonna do research on it so I can support you the best I can, because I care about-” He cuts himself off. “No, wait, I already said that part,” he mumbles, laughing nervously.

Reg smiles at him. “You hate doing research,” he says. “You avoid it like the plague.”

James laughs again. “Shut up, you wanker,” he says, shoving him gently. “This is different!”

He scoots a bit closer, putting his hand on Regulus’s shoulder. “But really,” he says, his tone more serious now. “I support you one hundred percent. You’ll always be family to me. So if you want, we can just forget all about that kiss.”

“But…” Reg looks up at him. “The kiss did mean something to you, didn’t it?”

James considers this for a moment. “I mean… it was a good kiss. And it did sorta… force me to come to terms with my sexuality. But what really means something to me is you, Reg, and our friendship. I don’t wanna lose that, ever. So… do I maybe have a teeny tiny crush on you? Yeah, I think I might, but it’s honestly no big deal. It won’t change anything between us, I promise.”

He holds out his pinky finger, and it takes Regulus several moments to realize what he’s doing. He holds up his own pinky and laces it with James’s.

“I just realized, I’m kind of an asshole,” he says after a bit. “I practically dismissed your coming out because I was so worried about my own.”

“Oh.” James chuckles. “Mate, don’t worry about it. I completely understand.”

“If you want, you can tell me again and I will try to react better,” Reg offers.

James shakes his head, amused. “I… alright,” he says, grinning. “Regulus?”

“Yes?”

“I’m bisexual.”

Reg smiles at him. “Oh, okay!” he says, acting as though it’s the first he’s hearing of this. “That’s lovely. I’m very happy for you. And… obviously, I support you, and I care about you a lot, too.”

James’s grin grows wider. “Thank you,” he says.

They sit quietly for a while, before James speaks again:

“Do you wanna come over today? Mum is making pancakes for dessert. And we can play Mario Kart.”

Regulus groans, but can’t quite suppress a smile. “Ugh, I don’t wanna play Mario Kart against you. You always win. I swear you’re cheating, somehow.”

“How would I cheat at Mario Kart?” James asks with a laugh.

Reg shrugs, crossing his arms. “I don’t know, but I don’t wanna play with you either way.”

“Okay, well… You can play against Sirius? Or you two can team up and try to beat me together,” James suggests, nudging his shoulder. “Come on, it’ll be fun. And pancakes.”

“Fine,” Reg says, as if he wasn’t going to say yes from the beginning. “But only because of the pancakes.”

James nods solemnly. “That’s fair,” he says, and Reg tries not to smile like an idiot, but it’s hard not to because at least for now, all of the worries and doubts swirling in his chest have been driven away by a warm, relieved feeling.

“James?” he says.

“Yeah?”

He doesn’t actually know what to say, so he just wraps his arms around James and pulls him into a hug. James hugs him back tightly, and Regulus feels incredibly lucky to have a friend like him.

[hotchley]

(Teen Hotch and Haley prompt)

She knows better than to startle him. Haley knows what that monster does to Aaron, she has patched him up too many times to count. But she figures a hug would be okay, so she comes up behind hotch (Idk what the setting for this would be) and Haley wraps her arms around him and he lurches forward flinching and starts to have a mini panic attack despite her gentleness.

Basically Haley starles Hotch and he has a panic attack and she calms him down. (Feel free to change or alter some of the prompt a little bit) like maybe one of Haley’s friends “play” punches him and he freaks out. Either way Haley comforts him.

seven 

(because that was the song that I listened to the most whilst writing this)

tw: child abuse, panic attacks

Haley Brooks loved Thursdays'. In fact, if she had to choose, she would say that Thursday was her favourite day of the week. Nobody would ever ask her that, but it was. She knew it was strange to pick such a random day, but it was the one day of the week where she felt like she could relax and enjoy herself.

The theatre club met on a Thursday. She loved theatre. It was fun. And it was the one thing Jessica had never done either, so it was entirely hers. No comparisons. No competition. Just her, her friends, and a musical that she already knew she would hate after the final show.

And of course, Aaron Hotchner. Haley loved Aaron. She knew that already. People may have said that it was ridiculous for her- a seventeen year old- to say that she loved someone like that, but what they didn't understand was that this was Aaron.

He was different. There were a million different parts to him, and she seemed to be the only one that ever got to see them all. 

She saw him stumbling through dances, but trying his best and she saw him flustered when people complimented him. She saw him smile- a real, genuine smile- whenever he realised she was staring. She saw him when he was debating, real passion on his face.

She also saw him when he was terrified that his father would find him hiding in her room and take his anger out on her. She saw him when he was so angry with the world that it terrified him because what if he turned out exactly like his father, he couldn't do that and he needed to leave before he damaged her just like everyone else.

It was painful to watch him wince as someone touched his shoulder. It took every ounce of her self-control to not march down to the police station and demand that they arrest Mr Hotchner because he was an evil, evil man that should never have been allowed to have children.

But she couldn't do that. They wouldn't believe her. Aaron had begged her to not say anything. He had tried once. His father had broken his arm and he had ended up in the hospital because he wasn't allowed a hospital.

So she kept his secret. And the window to her room opened all through the evening, even in the winter.

That was the other reason she liked Thursdays'. Mr Hotchner worked late. By the time he came home, Aaron was already hidden away in his room, away from angry fists and alcohol-scented breath. On every other day, there was a chance he would be climbing through her window, blood staining his shirt and tears drying on his cheeks.

Nobody had ever wiped his tears away. The first time she did, he flinched away from her touch. She had thought it was her. Then he apologised, and her heart had ached for him. He spent more time in her house than his own, without anyone knowing, of course. It was stupid, and impossible, but the words were always on the tip of her tongue.

She thought he should live with her. It would be impossible until they both graduated, but she knew her parents would get over themselves eventually. His dad was always angry, even when there was nothing wrong, and it was unfair.

It was unfair that Aaron had to suffer, and it was unfair that nobody was willing to do anything, and it was unfair that his childhood had been torn from him, leaving him a broken shell of the person he could have been. It was unfair that all she could do was clean up the blood and make sure he ate enough.

She liked Thursdays' because she knew Aaron would eat enough. That he would sleep through the night. 

She knew Aaron was not the violent and aggressive man that the teachers treated him as, nor was he the trouble-maker Jessica and her parents believed him to be. He wasn't the strange and weird kid that the rest of the cheerleading squad liked to tease him for being. Aaron was soft and sweet, always sticking up for the younger years and he was smart and funny.

That was why she was so happy that he did theatre with her now. It was one of the few moments where other people could see the version of him that she knew existed and loved with all her heart.

He was talking to one of her friends' about the choreography they were learning. His back was facing her, but she could tell from his hand gestures and generally relaxed stance that he was enjoying himself. That made her smile. He deserved to enjoy himself, and to have something good in his life.

She slid off the table she'd been sat on and headed over. Aaron seemed far less tense than he had in any of the previous rehearsals, and it was nice. Cute, because it meant he didn't care about his rambling or poor dance skills.

They weren't officially together- they'd only been on one date that had been cut short because Aaron had needed to run home- but she liked to think they were dating. Or at the very least, good friends. Sometimes she wanted to kiss him, if only to convince him that he was worthy of love, but it was never the right moment.

A hug was okay. Friends hugged all the time. And besides, Aaron could always do with hugs, but there were very few people that were allowed to give them to him. His brother didn't count, because most of the time, Aaron was the one hugging him and that was different. His mother hardly touched him now. 

She stepped forward, pressing a finger to her lips when her friend went to say hello. Her friend nodded and turned her attention back to Aaron, who was still rambling about something or other. It sounded like he was talking about Les Miserables, which impressed her.

Haley took one more step forward.

Aaron felt hands wrap around his stomach. His stomach which had bruises forming because his father hadn't even bothered to take his shoes off before taking his anger out on his eldest son. He flinched, but it was too slight for anyone to even notice. Haley pressed her forehead to his shoulder, hugging him tightly.

Her touch was gentle. Her hands were soft. But Aaron did not feel that. He did not feel the love or joy that she did at having him close. He just felt the fear and dread that he always felt when his father came home before he could escape. He felt calloused hands that were harsh and unforgiving.

Before he was aware of what he'd done, he had twisted out of her grip and ran out the room. It was a habit he wasn't even aware of anymore- always standing as close to the door as he could. He had no idea where he was meant to go, only that he needed to get away.

Haley remained frozen in position. She looked down at her hands. Mr Hotchner's hands were much larger than hers. Rougher too. When they touched Aaron, it was to inflict pain and hurt. She knew how that monster touched him. She'd cleaned him up enough times. She should have known better.

But she'd just assumed he would be fine, and now she was here, frozen in position whilst he fled, probably that somebody was going to hurt him.

"Is he okay?" her friend asked.

That shocked her back to reality. "I- give me two minutes okay?"

She ran out the room without even waiting for a response. This had happened once before. It had been terrifying, but they'd gotten through it together, and afterwards Aaron had been so grateful. It made her sick to think that he'd been going through it alone.

Without an ounce of hesitation, she entered the boys' bathroom. Only one door was open. She immediately ran over to it and sat down.

Aaron was struggling to breathe, tears streaming down his cheeks as he rested his head against the wall.

"Aaron," Haley said, fighting to keep her voice steady. This wasn't about her. She needed to be strong for him.

He shook his head. Haley longed to touch him, but they were both still just trying to work out what worked for him. Touch was not one of those things. So she sat opposite him instead, close enough that he could hear her without having to struggle.

"Baby it's me. Haley. We're going to get through this. I need you to listen to me though. Can you do that?" The term of endearment slipped out by accident, but she wasn't about to take it back. Short sentences that were easy to understand were key to helping him through whatever happened to him in these moments.

He nodded, once, slightly hesitant.

"Good. I'm going to breathe in. Can you do that with me?"

Aaron nodded, and she just prayed she was doing this right. She inhaled, slightly relaxing when he did the same. She counted to five and hoped that was the right number, before exhaling. Aaron did the same.

"You're doing so good for me Aar," she assured.

She had no idea how much time passed. It could have been minutes. It could have been hours. But eventually, Aaron's breathing returned to normal and he didn't flinch when she held her hand out for him to take. The pressure grounded him.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"You should come and live with me," she blurted out. Immediately, she cringed. Aaron was already so much older than he seemed. Saying that would only make him realise just how immature she was.

He smiled slightly, drawing circles over her knuckle. "Yeah?"

"Mhm. We could do whatever we wanted. Like eat pancakes for dinner, and dance round the kitchen whenever wanted, and watch those rom-coms that you love so much," she said, smiling slightly.

"That'd be nice. Tell me more about this life of ours together."

She could never tell him no. It was halfway through her spiel about the way they would decorate their hallway that she realised exactly why he wanted her to speak. He found her voice soothing and it was helping him.

So she decided to be brave, and she took a chance.

"Aar?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you. And I think we should go on a date," she said, all in one breath.

"What?"

"You don't have to say yes. It's just- I'm sat here, planning out what our future home looks like but you don't even know how I feel and I needed you to know that."

"I don't think anyone's ever loved me," he confessed quietly.

"Can I hug you?" she asked, not sure what she was meant. Because saying that wasn't true would be an insult to everything that he had been through. Love hurt sometimes, yes, but not in the way that he was.

He nodded. He still tensed when her arms went to his stomach, but she took her time, making sure he knew it was her, not someone else. When she finally embraced him, he sobbed into her shoulder.

She just ran her hand through his hair. "One day, we're going to get out of here, and it's going to be the best time of our lives."

They did eventually get out of that small town. And they ate pancakes for dinner, danced to ABBA hits in their tiny kitchen that wasn't even made for two people, watched silly rom-coms that never failed to make Aaron tear up, and they decorated their hallway with photos of them and their friends.

[fallen-gravity]

awaken the stars, ‘cause they’re all around you

Stanford Pines never really believed in soulmates.

He can't imagine the idea that there's one person out there for him in the multiverse who would stop at nothing to love him for who he is, despite everything he is and everything he's done. He can't imagine that someone out there is meant for him, someone who will stand by his side until the end of time.

Or maybe he'd just been looking at it from the wrong angle.

Notes: 

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, @stariousfalls!!!!! I can't believe we've been friends for upwards of five years now?? You've been a huge inspiration of mine from my first day in the gravity falls fandom back in late 2014, and now you're one of my closest friends. I've been spending the last week and a half working on this behind your back, because I wanted to surprise you with a gift I thought you'd love!!

7.5k words of fluff was....not my original plan, but fluff brain wanted to go feral for you, I guess.

Huge, huge shoutout to @ariasofelegance  for helping me keep my mouth shut about this, I absolutely would've internally combusted without your help & support

AO3

Ford never saw the appeal of romantic relationships.

One night when he and Stan were kids, they snuck downstairs in the middle of the night after their parents were asleep to dig through Pa’s “Secret stash” of movies he thought he was good at keeping a secret. They’d thought for sure they’d be coming across bootleg cuts of action movies that were still playing in theaters, or documentaries about how all of the politicians in power were secretly aliens. 

What they actually found was much more…sensual. They were both horrified, to say the least, but each time Ford had to turn away to prevent himself from gagging, he’d hear Stan beside him struggling not to laugh. 

For years, Ford was convinced coming across those tapes before he was old enough to fully comprehend what was happening in them is what had turned him off to relationships altogether. It certainly didn’t help that he was never able to experience romantic relationships firsthand, as every time he tried asking someone out in high school he’d just be laughed at or called a freak.

Though college was another story entirely, his feelings towards romantic relationships never seemed to change. He went out with a girl from his dungeons, dungeons, and more dungeons club for a few weeks, a guy from his advanced physics class for almost two months, and even tried going out with Fiddleford for upwards of nine months, but he never felt that deeper connection with any of them, no matter how much he wanted to feel that connection. 

It’d be forty more years before he learned the term aromantic, but when he was still in college he would brush off his parents’ questions about his relationship status by telling them he was too busy working on his thesis, which technically wasn’t all that far from the truth anyway.

Still, the faint sense of yearning never seemed to leave him be. Whenever he found gaps in his schedule, he would spend hours in his university library reading up on the science of relationships and their place in society. Though he no longer remembers most of the papers he read, one scientific study that’s always stuck with him was a dissertation written entirely on the concept of soulmates.

Everyone has a soulmate, the paper claimed. Though it may be decades until you properly meet, your path always leads to the moment that you and your soulmate are finally united. Once finally together, not a single force on earth can tear you apart. Even if you are apart physically, the stars will always align to bring you together. Weirdest of all, the paper mentioned soulmarks, which were described as “the phenomenon that a person’s very soul is marked with a piece that belongs to their soulmate, which may appear as a physical anomaly on a person’s body, such as an oddly-shaped birthmark”. 

Ford had thought for sure that somebody must’ve moved a romance novel into the sociology section of the library as a joke. The only sort of anomaly he had going for him was his polydactyly, and thinking too much about how that could connect him to a single person who was destined to love him gave him a headache. 

Nowadays, though, Ford tries not to give it much thought. He’s perfectly happy right where he is, watching the sunrise from the deck of the Stan O’ War II through the steam visibly rising from his coffee mug. 

He sighs contently. 

“Mornin’” Stan’s voice sounds beside him, gruff with sleep. When Ford turns to look at him, he’s rubbing at his eyes with one hand while he holds a steaming cup of coffee in his other. He’s already donning one of the sweaters Mabel mailed to him, a deep blue with a tropical island and a treasure chest stitched across the chest.

Ford smirks. “You’re up early” 

Stan cocks an eyebrow as he sips from his coffee. “A’course I am. I always get up early when we’re docking to see the kids”

Ford blinks, the teasing smirk on his face melting into a gentle smile. “That’s today?” 

“Haven’t you checked the calendar lately?” Stan tosses a second handmade sweater at Ford. This one’s the same shade of maroon as his journal covers, and pictures an angry cycloptopus squirting ink towards the bottom left corner of the sweater. “The kids are on spring break. They talked to their parents about letting us have ‘em all week” 

Ford is quick to pull the warm sweater over his head. “All week?” 

He can’t help sounding like a broken record, but it’s been months since the last time he saw the kids face to face. Sure, they talk over video at least once a week, but nothing beats seeing their smiling faces and having them nearly tackle him to the ground in a hug in-person. 

“Heh, you miss em too, Sixer?” 

As little as two years ago, Ford would’ve flinched at the nickname. But Bill is gone for good, and Ford knows that Bill is gone for good, and Stan made a promise to do anything in his power to help him reclaim the nickname. He brings his mug close to his face without taking a sip, allowing himself to take in the warmth in his hands and the steam in his face.

“Not as much as you, clearly” Ford smirks, and Stan crosses his arms over his chest.

“You bet I missed them more than you. I’d been taking care of them all summer before you showed up and fell in love with them in half that time”

Ford smirks as he finishes up his coffee and heads into the navigation room to set their course. “By that logic, wouldn’t that mean that I miss them more, since I had less time with them?”

“Hey!” Stan groans as he follows him into the room. “It does not. It means that you don’t know them like I know them, genius. Everyone knows that it’s all about how much time you’ve spent with a person that determines how close you are with them” 

Ford laughs as he enters the coordinates they need to get to the seaport they were meeting the young twins at. From the looks of it, it’d be three hours before they arrived. 

“Mm, and who put that study together? Was it you?” 

Stan doesn’t reply with words, just a noise that sounds halfway between disgruntled and baffled. It makes Ford laugh even harder, and he wipes at his eyes with a wrist. Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees Stan’s overdramatic pout melt away until he’s laughing too. 

The sight of it makes the smile on Ford’s face widen. It’d been decades since the two of them were able to just be like this. It’d been so long since the last time Ford heard Stan’s genuine laugh that he’d gone and forgotten what it sounded like altogether. When he was still traveling the multiverse, he searched far and wide for a shred of hope, something to keep his anxieties and nightmares from catching up to him.

What a fool he’d been to ignore his childhood memories of home. 

The trip is a quiet but familiar one. Ford can’t talk much when he’s steering because he needs to be on constant lookout, but Stan remains in the room to talk at him and keep him company anyway. The sun is well over the horizon by the time they reach the seaport, and call it instincts, intuition, or something else entirely, because Ford spots the kids sitting on a bench in the near distance the moment he and Stan step foot onto the dock. 

They’re squished closely together, watching a video on Mabel’s phone. Whether they’re aware of it or not, they’re swaying their legs back and forth underneath the bench in perfect unison. On the ground beside them are their backpacks, overstuffed with so many things that both of them are popping open. 

Most importantly, neither of them have noticed that Ford and Stan are approaching them. 

Ford exchanges an amused glance with Stan, and clears his throat to catch their attention. 

The phone nearly stumbles out of their hands in shock when they look up and meet their eyes.

“Grunkle Stan!” Mabel squeals, standing to sprint past Ford to knock Stan off of his feet. Ford chuckles at the sight, but not quickly enough to hear Dipper’s “Great Uncle Ford!”, and before he knows it he’s hitting the floor too. The young twins are laughing messes, and stumble over each other as they try to stand to their feet and help their Grunkles up. 

Mabel spits out the hair that stuck to her mouth, and pulls a hair tie seemingly out of thin air to tie her hair up into a ponytail. It’s only now that Ford realizes that she and Dipper are also both wearing sweaters, and if Ford had to guess, it looks like Mabel made both of these sweaters as well. Mabel’s is a galaxy print with actual twinkling stars, and Ford makes a mental note to ask her later what she did to make it glow like that. Dipper’s is also space themed, though his pictures the big dipper splotched across a black night sky with a bright orange meteor shooting through the center.

“You have to tell us about everything you’ve encountered”, Dipper beams, once Stan finishes brushing himself off. 

Stan cocks an eyebrow. “Two years’ worth is a lot to get through, kiddo”

“Exactly!” Mabel beams, turning to pick up her backpack and put it on. “Which is exactly why you can tell us on the way to the hotel!” 

“Hotel?” Ford and Stan ask in unison.

“Surprise?” Dipper giggles. “Our parents rented us a hotel room for the week cause they figured you’d appreciate some time away from the boat” 

“It’ll be like our summer in Gravity Falls all over again!” Mabel grins. “But in reverse! You’re in our territory now” 

Stan laughs. “You’re the boss, kiddo”

“You bet I am!” She beams, and hands Dipper his backpack. “Now c’mon! If you tell us all of the horrors you’ve encountered out at sea, we’ll tell you about all the horrors we’ve encountered in high school!”

“I...think I remember those horrors pretty well already, thank you” Ford smiles sheepishly, adjusting his glasses. “But we’d be more than glad to tell you some of our own stories”

It’s a short walk to the bus stop, but Ford honestly wouldn’t mind if they walked all the way to the hotel on foot if it meant an extra half an hour with the kids. They’re just as eccentric as he remembers, attached at the hip but still wildly different people all on their own. Dipper’s still hanging on to every word he’s saying, and Mabel’s still skipping along like she’s in her own world. 

Once they reach the hotel and check in, Dipper collapses face first onto one of the beds the moment he steps into the room, groaning. 

Stan smiles. “Something bothering you, kiddo?” 

He turns on his side to look Stan in the eye, his face smushing into the pillow. “Mabel didn’t let me get any sleep last night. She insisted on getting to the seaport three whole hours early because she insisted that she had this gut feeling that you guys would have the same idea and we’d magically show up at the same time” 

Mabel pouts, and sits on the bed besides him. “Well it’s not my fault you stayed up late reading that dumb book of yours. Plus, would you rather have kept them waiting for three hours?” 

Dipper removes his hat and places it on the table beside him, exposing just enough of his forehead through his hair to reveal his birthmark. It has the same faint glow to it as Mabel’s sweater, and Ford wonders how the two could possibly reflect off of each other. 

“Their boat has beds and a fully stocked kitchen, Mabel. They can afford to wait. All we had were those strawberry pop tarts that you ate five minutes after we got there”

Ford can’t help but smile softly at their banter. He missed them so, so, much more than he could’ve ever imagined. He’s got half a mind to stow them away on the boat at the end of the week and homeschool them both himself so he never has to be apart from them again.

Apart. The word still feels like a knife twisted into his chest. There’s nothing he regrets more than trying to separate the young twins from each other two summers ago because he’d been so caught up in projecting his own fears onto the pair. He’d tried apologizing to Mabel over the whole ordeal, but she stopped him before he could even start to tell him he had nothing to worry about.

He only wishes he could learn to forgive himself as easily as she did.

“...Can we, Grunkle Ford?”

He blushes. Had he just said all of that out loud?

“Can we...what?” 

“Take the boat out! Not right now, since Dips is being a grumpy-grump and insists on wasting precious time with a nap, but we’ve been talking about it all week”

From across the room, Stan snorts. “Let me get this straight,” he takes his jacket off and hangs it up in the closet. At this point Ford swears his eyes must be playing tricks on him, because Stan’s old burn scar is glowing just as Mabel’s sweater and Dipper’s birthmark are. “All the time you spent groaning and complaining about fishing every time I took you in Gravity Falls, and now you’re asking to go fishing?” 

“I was thinking more along the lines of a joy ride,” Dipper yawns from under the covers. “But if agreeing to go fishing is what gets you to say yes, then sure” 

He’s smirking under the covers, Ford can tell, because he inherited that expression from Stan.

Stan’s about to bite back, but Dipper must not have been exaggerating about how long he and Mabel were waiting for them at the dock, because he’s already out cold. Stan smiles at him, gently ruffling up his hair before he takes a seat on the adjacent bed, kicking his shoes off so he can kick his feet up on the bed and relax. Ford sits beside Stan, and Stan slings his arms behind him to support his head in his hands as he glances over at Ford. 

“They make you wanna retire the whole ‘treasure hunting’ thing and move into the city to be closer to ‘em too?”

Ford chuckles. “I’ve already considered hiding them away on the boat twice today already.” He taps at his chin. “Though I suppose that moving in with them would go over better with their parents then taking them away to live on a boat” 

“Hmm…” Stan taps at his chin as well. “Being stuck in the same stuffy high school for four years, or living on a boat traveling all over the world whenever they feel like it? I dunno about you, Sixer, but I have a pretty good idea on what the kids would prefer”

“Grunkle Stan? Grunkle Ford?” Mabel’s voice suddenly chimes in, and Ford blushes, wondering how much of that she just heard. 

“What’s on your mind, pumpkin?” Stan asks. 

“Well, uh, Dipper was right about us only eating once really early this morning, and I was wondering if you’d be willing to, uh” She twirls her hair between her fingers. “Cook something for us? For old time’s sake?”

Okay, it’s settled, Ford’s never letting these kids go again. 

“Sure, kiddo. Soon as your brother’s up we’ll head right back up, okay?” 

“Okay!” she beams, and crawls back into her side of the bed, staring at Dipper like she can will him into waking up on command. 

Though Ford would’ve been okay if they’d had to wait hours for him, it’s really only about twenty minutes before Dipper opens his eyes again and nearly shrieks in surprise at Mabel’s face hovering three inches from his own. He smacks his hand into her face to shove her away, and she giggles as she rolls off the bed and onto the floor. 

Beside Ford, Stan smirks. “Better get up before we leave without you and all our food goes to Mabel, kiddo. You’ve got plenty of time to crash in Ford’s bed on the ship, since he never seems to use it anyway”

Dipper yawns, rubbing at his eyes as he kicks the covers off. “I hadn’t even realized I’d fallen asleep”

“I didn’t realize you were even capable of sleep, bro-bro” Mabel punches him in the shoulder as she walks past him to put her shoes on. He glares at her wordlessly, and Ford has to cover up his snicker with a fake cough. 

This time, the bus ride and the walk back to the ship are a quiet one. Ford never really lets himself let his guard down and relax for an extended period of the time, so he cherishes any moment he can get where he finally feels like he doesn’t constantly feel the need to check over his shoulder for signs of danger. Most of the time, if you asked him about his heightened senses, he’d call them a curse. But on days like these, when he can hear the birds chirping and the waves smacking gently against the boats in the seaport, he’d almost go as far as calling it a blessing. 

The kids take a seat at the dining table as soon as they enter the kitchen, and Stan grins at them from over his shoulder as he clicks the stove on. “Whaddya say, Stancakes?” 

Dipper and Mabel grimace in unison. “Ewwww, Grunkle Stan, you promised lunch!” Mabel scrunches her nose, and Stan’s grin only widens. 

“Ah, ah, you said like old times. That means I get to decide what to make, and you have to eat it because I’m your legal guardian”.

“Well I wasn’t even awake when you were talking about old times, so I’d say that cancels out” Dipper crosses his arms over his chest, and Ford can’t help but smile warmly at the three of them as he reaches into the cupboard for his favorite coffee mug. The younger twins clearly had just gotten two copies of the same mug, but crossed both of them out so they’d say #1 GRUNKLES on them instead of #1 UNCLE. Stan has the other one, of course, but he keeps it on his bedside to hold small treasures and keepsakes because it’s, in his own words, “Too special to waste on something as ordinary as coffee”.

Ford sits himself in the seat between the younger twins at their okay, and after some back and forth banter between the four of them, they end up settling for burgers. Truth be told, this is the first time Ford’s eaten a meal in a group larger than two since the last time he and Stan visited the young twins in the winter, and he can’t help but smile into his food at the thought. The closest he’d come even remotely close to eating with others in his research years was his very, very brief time at the truck stop diner, and the experience had soured his view of...well, other people for near decades.

Now, though, he’d burn his own research dozens of times over before he’d even consider eating alone.

Stan’s chair scraping across the floor as he stands pops Ford out of his bubble of serenity. 

“Now that that’s taken care of,” Stan cracks his knuckles, smiling mischievously at Dipper and Mabel. “I think I remember a couple of kiddos finally promising their Grunkle Stan he could take them fishing”

“Promise is a strong word-” Dipper starts as he stands to place his plate in the sink, but Stan’s already placing a fishing hat on his head before he can finish his sentence. 

“Course you did! You wanna take our baby for a joyride, you gotta earn it first”

Dipper turns to Ford, like he’s expecting him to back him up.

Ford chuckles. “I don’t know, Dipper. That sounds perfectly reasonable to me”.

Dipper scoffs, sitting back down at the table. Mabel laughs. 

“Aww, C’mon, Dipper! Aren’t you all about the supernatural? For all we know, Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford could be harboring magical glowing bait that only attracts, like, magical talking fish men, or something!” 

Dipper raises an eyebrow. “Didn’t you just receive a bottle message from Mermando last week?”

“Exactly!” Mabel flashes a grin. “That must mean that he’s in the area!”

Stan laughs. “You tellin’ me you only agreed to go fishing so you could kiss and make-up with your long-distance fish boyfriend?”

“Grunkle Stan, what kind of person do you take me for?” she gasps. “He’s married! You know I would never want to break apart such a loving couple!”

Ford’s smile only warms. Where else could he partake in such a conversation that doesn’t turn heads and result in judgmental whispers? Where else can he just be like this, surrounded by loved ones who are just as weird, just as out of the ordinary as himself? In his younger years he thought for sure his place would be among the monsters and cryptids everyone in his childhood made him out to be, but even in the weirdness capital of the country he felt more alone than ever. 

“...Don’t think you’re immune, Sixer” Stan’s voice cuts into his thoughts, and before Ford can ask what he means Stan is smacking a homemade fishing cap on his head. “It may ruin your badass image when we’re monster hunting, or whatever, but we’re fishing with the kids.” Stan gestures to them with his thumb. They’re already outside, leaning over the railing to look out at the water in a perfect mirror of each other.  “If they have to embarrass themselves by humoring me for a few hours, so do you” 

Ford waits for Stan to join the kids outside before he takes his hat off to admire the stitch work. It’s not perfect, and nowhere near the fancy embroidery he and Stan have found in various markets across their world travels. But it’s personalized, and Ford knows it comes from a place in Stan’s mind that’s been stuck behind lock and key since he was seventeen.

Ford runs his hands along each individual letter, which reads POINDEXTER, before placing it back on his head to join the others outside. 

Stan has, miraculously, already pulled out his joke book. Stan’s laughing too hard at his own joke for Ford to really make out what the punchline is, but the younger twins’ collective groans is all he needs to know about it. When Mabel notices him stepping out of the doorway, though, her expression shifts entirely. 

“So…” she draws out, stepping towards him. “Is there a trick for attracting merpeople to your boat? I mean, asides from being super cute, obviously” 

Ford chuckles, taking a glance behind her to make sure that Stan is out of earshot. “Stan’ll kill me if I tell you this, but they’re really attracted towards shiny things. If you tied one of his gold necklaces around a fishing pole and dangled it into the water, the boat’ll be surrounded in minutes” 

Mabel offers up her pinkie finger. “I won’t tell him if you won’t”

Ford interlocks his pinkie with hers, smiling. “I think he’ll notice when a whole family of merpeople show up”

“Hmmm…” Mabel taps at her chin with her free hand, visibly mouthing a plan to herself. “Oh! I know! Come with me,” she beams, and before Ford can even open his mouth to respond she’s already dragging him back into the kitchen. She kneels down on the floor and opens the cupboard below the sink. “Got any empty bottles I can use?”

Ford blinks. “Empty....bottles”

“Yeah!” Mabel pulls a neatly folded piece of paper out of her skirt. “If I can send out my response letter the same time we throw Stan’s necklace over, he’ll never be able to tell the difference!”

“Wait, wait” Ford shakes his head. “You really are dating a merperson?”

“Listening skills, Grunkle Ford” she taps at her forehead, folding the letter back into her pocket as she continues to dig through the cupboards. “Used to date. We met at the Gravity Falls Public Pool, where he was stuck, but then I drove him to the lake in a golf cart I stole from the pool grounds because he really missed his family, and then he was my first kiss, and then we were in a long-distance relationship for like, two months, and I kept every single bottle he sent me, but then we had to break up because he was arranged to marry to prevent a big undersea war.” She picks up a bottle, shakes it, and puts it back when it’s too full for her liking. “I know it sounds, like, super complicated, but it’s all okay, because we’re still pen pals!” 

Ford laughs, shaking his head. “No, Mabel, I had to ask because I, uh…” his cheeks warm, and he clears his throat. “Before I...came to term with my orientation, I...dated a merperson too” 

The bottles in the cupboard rattle as Mabel’s head smacks against the doorframe. She’s rubbing the spot where her head hit, but there are stars in her eyes. “Really?” 

Ford’s cheeks burn even hotter. “Yes,” he whispers, and takes a knee so he can get at her eye level. “Technically he was a siren, but yes, we dated for about a month. He promised me he wouldn’t entice anyone else while we were together, but I guess there wasn’t anything...there.” He turns to help her shuffle through the cupboard, and finds a near-empty bottle of olive oil that’s definitely been sitting down there for at least a year. He hands it off to Mabel, smiling. “I’m glad that things worked out with you, though” 

To his surprise, Mabel drops the bottle and throws her arms around him in a hug. “I can’t wait to introduce you! He’s gonna love you”

Ford huffs a quiet laugh, and pulls her close as he winds his arms around her as well. The hug only lasts for a few brief moments, but it feels to Ford in those moments that time itself had stopped. Mabel stands, taking the bottle in one hand and offering to help Ford up in her other. 

Mabel places the bottle in the sink and turns the water on to rinse it out before she turns back towards Ford, stretching her arms up in the air as if she were warming up for an exercise. “Alright, here’s the plan. You tell me where Grunkle Stan keeps all of his jewelry, and I’ll sneak in and take his necklace while you distract him. Got it?”

Ford smiles. “Got it”.

As Mabel splits away for Stan’s bedroom, Ford heads back out to the deck. Dipper’s leaning over the side of the boat pointing at something jumping out of the water, rambling excitedly to Stan beside him. He’s holding his fishing hat in his hand to stop it from blowing into the water, and his hair is bouncing in the breeze. It’s just enough for the edge of his birthmark to poke through his bangs, and even in broad daylight it seems to be emitting a faint glow.

“I found it!” Mabel cheers, bounding up from behind him. She’s wearing the chain around her neck, and for some reason the gold seems much dimmer in contrast to her sweater. She takes it off and hands it to him. “You wanna do the honors while I go and throw this overboard?”

Ford smiles, ruffling her hair. “Sure thing.” He walks over to where Stan and Dipper are chatting and picks up one of the extra fishing rods. Making sure that Stan’s too engrossed with his conversation to notice, Ford starts wrapping the chain along the line, and at the signal from Mabel, he tosses his line as far from the boat as he can manage.

Five minutes pass before Mabel squeals so loud that Ford’s afraid his glasses might shatter. He reaches for the gun he knows he’s got stashed in his pants pocket, but when he turns to run to her aid she’s leaning halfway over the boat wrapping her arms around a young merman in a tight hug.

“...so good to see you again!” She’s beaming. “I didn’t think you’d be able to find us so quickly!”

“Yes, well, you were easy to track down after we figured out the coordinates to the seaport” the young man says in a thick Spanish accent. “It is good to see you too! My family was so excited to meet you”

“Your family?” she gasps. “Did they all come with you?” 

“Of course!” he grins. “We merpeople are very family oriented. Wherever we go, we go together” 

Ford winces at the uncanny familiarity of the statement. Mabel must recognize the statement too, because she responds with “Oh, that reminds me! There’s someone I want you guys to meet! Wait right here,” she says, and comes bouncing back over to Ford. Taking his hand in her own, she starts to drag him back to where she’d just been leaning. “C’mon! He’s the one I was just talking about!”

Three more merpeople emerge from the water when she gently knocks on the side of the boat again. “Grunkle Ford, this is Mermando!” she grins, gesturing to the young merman she’d just been conversing with. “He’s the one I helped reunite with his family after they were separated by tragic circumstances.” She wraps her arms around Ford in a side-hug. “Mermando, this is my Grunkle Ford! He was also separated from his family by tragic circumstances, but I helped with that too!” 

Mermando laughs. “Even when you think it’s the end, family always finds its way, doesn’t it?”

Ford laughs, shaking his hand. “It always seems that way to me”

“Awwww!” Mabel squeals. “I knew you’d get along!” She grins, and turns her attention back towards Mermando. “Before I forget, though, did you see where Grunkle Ford threw that gold necklace? If I don’t get it back my Grunkle Stan’s gonna kill me”

Mermando laughs again. “I was wondering if that belonged to any of you!” He takes off his shell necklace to reveal that he’d put Stan’s necklace on around his neck. He takes that off, too, and offers it to Ford. “I much prefer this one, anyway” he clicks his shell necklace open, revealing it to be a locket with a picture of his family inside.

Ford takes the gold necklace back, and he means to thank him, but a bell ringing from elsewhere in the port interrupts him before he can open his mouth. Mermando turns to Mabel, taking her hands in his own. “We must go. I’m so sorry we have to leave so soon, but we merpeople recognize the sounds of fishing boats very easily. We’ll try to come back later this week” He opens his arms for her once more, and Mabel wraps his arms around him in a quick hug before she watches him and his family swim away. 

“I am so glad that all you were doing was hugging,” Dipper shudders as he and Stan approach Ford and Mabel. “I’m not sure my stomach could handle witnessing you two kissing a second time” 

“Awww,” Mabel punches him playfully in the shoulder. “You’re just jealous that I had a boyfriend before you did!” 

Dipper cringes. “If you having a boyfriend before I do means I didn’t have to be the one dating a fish, then I’m glad you were the one who got stuck with him first” He punches her back, and gestures at Stan over his shoulder with his thumb. “But anyways, I came over here because Grunkle Stan says he wants to get out on the open water before everyone else gets the idea, or something”.

Ford pockets Stan’s necklace and makes a mental note to put it away sometime later tonight when Stan is too distracted to notice. “Tell Stan I’m going to untie the rope from the edge of the dock, and when he sees me back on board we’re all set to go.”

Nodding, Dipper bounds off towards the navigation room where Stan must be waiting, and Ford steps off of the boat to take care of everything else. On the way to the bow, he traces a hand along the white painted STAN O’ WAR II, and a feeling of warmth sprouts in his chest. Once back on board, he waves to Stan as he passes besides the navigation room once more, and takes a seat on one of the beach chairs they liked to keep aboard. 

Most days, Ford prefers to be the one at the wheel. But every once in a while he just wants to be. All he wants to do is lean back in one of their beach chairs and let the sun warm his face. It’s a good kind of warm, the same way spending time with the kids and heavy rain hitting his bedroom window and planning new escapades with Stan feel warm. After so, so long of only knowing unbearable burns, it feels indescribable to have a constant back in his life that heals, rather than hurts. 

“Mind if we join you?” Dipper asks, and Ford glances over to see both of the young twins dragging a chair behind them.

Speaking of healing constants.

“Sure,” Ford says, and can’t help the warmth spilling through his tone. They pull their chairs up on either side of him, and curl up to enjoy the warm breeze. Dipper places his hat on his lap to let the wind blow through his hair, and Mabel stretches her arms out behind her head to act as her own pillow. Ford chuckles silently at the pair, and closes his eyes to let himself relax.

All is quiet when Stan finally finds them a spot out on the open water without a single other boat in sight. The water is nearly still, save for the occasional small wave that gently sways the boat. The sun is at its afternoon high, turning the water beautiful shades of teal and aqua. Fishing is tedious, but it’s careful work, and gives Ford something to put all of his focus into. Two whole hours pass before any of them catch a thing, and Stan laughs himself to tears when it’s Dipper who pulls up a single sardine. 

Typically Ford prefers much more immersive activities, but right now there’s nowhere else he’d rather be. The sun is starting to set before they realize they aren’t going to have much luck catching anything, and instead decide to take the boat for another ride around the harbor to look for a better place to eventually watch the stars. 

“...Great Uncle Ford?” Dipper approaches him shyly once they’ve anchored the boat.

“Yes?”

He tugs shyly at the edge of his sweater. “I…” he starts. “I know you’ve told me that the multiverse was dangerous, and all, but...was there ever anything you enjoyed about it?” He pauses. “What were the sunsets like?”

Ford chuckles, patting at the seat beside him, and Dipper’s eyes light up as he sits down.

“You’re right,” Ford starts, folding his hands together. “I wouldn’t wish what I went through on even my worst enemies, Dipper. It was practically impossible to get any decent amount of sleep and even harder to find food digestible by human kind. I lost some of my best years to the multiverse when I could’ve gone on to become the most renowned scientist in the world.” Ford turns his gaze away from the sun setting on the horizon to meet Dipper’s eyes, but he’s frowning, eyes cast downwards towards the deck of the ship.

“But,” Ford adds before the poor kid can get too lost in his own head, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “It definitely had its perks.” He smiles. “The sun in Dimension 18.2 would emit a sound that mimicked a lullaby every night as it set. Dimension 47’23 had three moons that would shift phases before your very eyes. I haven’t told Mabel because I’m afraid she’ll try activating a portal of her own and run away, but in Dimension 25-12, everyone and everything looks like a watercolor painting. There’s danger in the multiverse, but there’s beauty in equal measure”

“Do you ever miss it?” Dipper fiddles with his hands, like he’s trying real hard not to say the wrong thing. “I mean, I know you don’t miss being lost, or having no idea if you’re ever going to see home again, but...is there any dimension...where you could’ve seen yourself staying, if you thought you couldn’t make it back?” 

Ford shifts in his chair so he doesn’t have to twist his neck so much to look directly at his nephew. “Occasionally,” he muses. “I met the most friendly faces in Dimension 52, so my mind does tend to wander there from time to time” he smiles. “But rest assured, there is something in this dimension that makes it my favorite”

“Oh yeah?” Dipper’s eyes light up. “Over every other dimension you’ve passed through? What is it?”

Ford gently nudges Dipper’s shoulder. “You and your sister”

Dipper’s cheeks turn bright red, and he looks as though he’s struggling not to bury his face into the collar of his sweater and disappear. “Really?” his voice squeaks.

Ford nods. “Everything I had in those other dimensions were fleeting, Dipper. At a moment’s notice everything I grew to love could disappear in the blink of an eye. The very thing happened to me in Dimension 52. When I fell asleep, I woke up in a new dimension I didn’t recognize. Things may have been more advanced, and there may have been dimensions crafted to give you your greatest desires, but in the end nothing ever lasted.” 

Now it’s Ford’s turn to divert Dipper’s eyes, gaze casting towards the floor. “Stan was cut from my life completely in the dimension that claimed to be a perfect world. I had nobody. Even in dimensions that actively worked towards my happiness, I was all alone” Ford shakes his head, and turns his gaze once more out on the horizon. The sun is still touching the horizon, but it’s dipped just low enough that some of the stars are beginning to show in the sky. 

“But...here, at home, everything is consistent. I don’t have to worry about waking up in the morning to find that everyone I love is gone. I can keep everyone in arm’s lengths, even when Stan and I can only communicate with you and your sister over a video call. I’m…” Ford gently squeezes his hands to reassure himself that this is real and now. “...happy. Happier than I’ve been in decades” 

Beside him, Dipper yawns, and when Ford spares a glance over at him he’s smiling at him sleepily.  “We’re really happy you’re here too, Grunkle Ford” he murmurs, and his eyes slip closed. Ford’s cheeks flush pink, and he has to choke back a laugh because that’s one of the first times Dipper’s felt comfortable enough to call him Grunkle. 

Ford stands, so as not to wake Dipper from his nap. A small glance to his right and he catches a glimpse of Stan and Mabel leaning against the side of the boat watching the sunset just outside of earshot of his current conversation with Dipper.

“You finally bore him to sleep with all your nerdy science talk?” Stan asks as he approaches, sparing a glance behind him at Dipper. “Was starting to think that the poor kid would never get a nap in” 

“Yes, well,” Ford smirks. “I’m sure it helped plenty that you bored him to death by taking him fishing first”

Stan gasps in mock offense, and slugs him in the shoulder. “Hey, at least I’m engaging them in something they can actually interact with, unlike your kooky alien stories, or whatever”

Ford can’t help the laugh that escapes him. “Bold statement coming from the man who dedicated thirty years of his life rescuing me from said kooky aliens” he says, returning with a punch of his own. Stan opens his mouth to argue back, realizes he has nothing to say, and closes his mouth. The sight of it makes Ford laugh even harder, keeling over and slapping a hand on Stan’s shoulder to support himself. It must be contagious, because it’s not long before Stan is laughing too.

Ford removes his glasses to wipe the tears from his eyes, and cleans off the lenses with the edge of his sweater. Once his eyes adjust after he puts them back on, his throat nearly catches in his throat when he glances back out towards the water. He’s just able to catch a shooting star before it disappears over the horizon, and the boat’s just far out enough on the water that there isn’t an ounce of light pollution obscuring the rest of the stars in the sky.  He takes a few steps back so he can look up and admire more of them at once, and if he looks close enough he can see them twinkling. 

Before he can ask the others if they’re seeing the same thing, a bright flash of light coming from somewhere on the boat cuts into his thoughts. He turns, to make sure that none of the lights in any of the rooms are on, but no, they’d turned those off when they’d started fishing. Scratching at his head, he turns to Stan and Mabel to ask if they have any idea where the light is coming from, but that question catches in its throat as quickly as it formulated.

They’re the ones emitting light.

Or, rather, Mabel’s sweater and Stan’s shoulder, approximately where his burn scar should be. Those are emitting light. 

...Surely it must just be the reflection of the starlight on the water, right? That same bright light must have woken Dipper from his nap, yes? 

He turns heel to ask Dipper the same question, but freezes in his tracks before he can take a single step forward. Dipper’s forehead is glowing too, the same way it has since he and Stan docked the boat this morning. 

It...It can’t be, can it?

Gripping his forehead, Ford takes a number of steps backwards until his back hits the wall. Maybe...maybe he just needs to call it a night. He’s been awake since sunrise, maybe his vision is just blurring because he needs to lie down? 

He waves his hands in front of his face, but no, those don’t look any different. He squints, to make sure his hands aren’t shaking, but no, they’re perfectly still.

He squints at Stan and Mabel, just to try and see if his eyes are watering, and-

He gasps. 

Mabel’s sweater, Dipper’s forehead, Stan’s shoulder; they’re not glowing; they’re twinkling like the stars. It was hard to tell in broad daylight, but now that they’re surrounded by a thousand shining stars, the resemblance is unmistakable. 

But...that’s not possible. If he can see them twinkling, but none of them have said anything about it, that could only be if those were…

...soulmarks. 

Ford suddenly feels like he’s going to pass out. 

He slides to the floor.

Is...Is that even possible? Ford thought for sure that study he read years ago was nothing but a joke. Someone...who does everything in their power to bring you two together, no matter the cost? Someone who, even though you may not meet for decades, will feel as though you’ve known each other their entire lives? Someone who will do anything for you, no matter the personal expense?

Someone...someone like Stan, who spent a painstaking thirty years teaching himself quantum physics to rescue someone that anyone else would assume dead? The man who sacrificed his very mind, his very life, so he could be spared physical torture?

Or...someone like Mabel, the first friendly face he saw after emerging from the portal? The one who forgave him so easily after he tried to separate her from her brother? The one who insists on calling him a good person, despite all of those he knows he hurt? 

Or...Dipper? His kindred spirit in all things supernatural? The one who, alongside his sister, sacrificed himself as bait for the most dangerous being in the entire multiverse? Who saw memories of him at his very worst, and apologized to him for snooping?

After everything he’s been through...could things really work out that well in his favor? To not have one soulmate but three, and the guarantee that they’ll never leave, because they’ve already expressed how they love him so? 

There’s a tear streaming down his cheek at the thought, but he’s too distracted by a fourth light suddenly emitting from...himself to really notice.

He spares a cautious glance downward, and notices a pulsing light emerging from his chest in perfect time with his heartbeat. If he looks closely, he notices that the light travels down his arms and ties itself into a translucent bow around his fingers. If he looks closer still, the light looks as though it’s slinking faintly across the deck of the boat and reaching towards the gentle twinkling of Stan and Mabel’s marks.

Ford places a hand to his forehead, throws his head back, and laughs his throat dry, paying no mind to the tears pouring down his face.

[heart-of-flames]

Lauren SFW Alphabet

I thought this would be a fun thing to do for you all.. I hope you like it 😄.

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Lauren shows emotion through her facial expressions and the light touches she bestows onto you. Whether it be a small quirking of her lips accompanied by a tender brush of her fingertips along your arm— showing her silent adoration of you. To the almost molten touch of her hand against your lower back and the slight smirk to show how much she desires you. Lauren may not be as open with her affection as some may expect, but everything you would ever need to know can be told by one simple glance into her eyes. Or one brief instance of seeing her smile.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend?)

Lauren is a very caring individual to people she doesn’t know. Giving as much as she can towards them even if it won’t always be reciprocated. So to the ones she loves? To the people who actually try in return? She gives her all and then some. She’s the type of best friend that will always offer you a shoulder to cry on. Always be your silent guardian amidst anything. Someone who would always try to make you laugh if you needed, but tell you it’s okay to cry. She wouldn’t judge you. She wouldn’t badger you for things you weren’t ready to tell her. She would be patient and warm. Knowing that sometimes a gentle touch and a willing ear was all that was needed.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Lauren doesn’t mind cuddling. If it’s something you wish to do with her then she would be more than happy to do it, but if you didn’t? Then she’s alright with that also. If you wished to then Lauren would be fine with being the big spoon or little spoon. If she was the big spoon she would wrap her arms around you and pull you against her. Gently pressing kisses into your hair and against your temple if you weren’t facing her. Or gazing into your eyes and gently threading her fingers through your hair if you were. A gentle smile being present the entire time. If she were to be the little spoon she would burrow into you. Her nose nuzzling against the crook of your neck and a contented sigh falling from her lips.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Lauren would love to settle down one day. She knows that her demanding schedule can impede on quality time with her loved ones but she would always be willing to run the extra mile to ensure that everyone was happy.

Lauren is a phenomenal cook and baker— it being a practice she picked up from her grandmother. She loves to cook for people, because she knows that home-cooked meals can soothe many ailing souls. Lauren doesn’t mind cleaning, but it’s a task that she would like help with. If it’s her own mess she has no problem cleaning it up. Making sure that the mess isn’t there longer than necessary— meaning no one would know it was a mess in the first place. If it’s a shared living space? She would clean up her half but leave you to pick up the rest. Unless people were coming over.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Lauren would sit you down gently in front of her. A pained expression painted across her elegant features. The gold standing out in her eyes because of her unshed tears. An almost bittersweet silence stretching between the two of you. She would try to be as calm as she possibly could be— wanting to end on as good of terms as she could. Even if you were to get angry, she would try to remain calm and resolute. Only cracking in the most extreme of circumstances. She never wishes to inflict pain on anyone if it could be avoided, but she has always prided herself on not deluding herself into falsehood. She would hope that you both would come out if it on the other side still being friends, but would be agreeable if you wished not to.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Lauren takes commitment very seriously. She would be as committed to you as she is to her patients. Never wavering in her belief of you. Her love being an immovable force of nature. Even still, it may take a bit for Lauren to actually get married. Of course, she would wish to but it may take her a while to work up to that.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Lauren has always prided herself on how gentle she can be. After all you have to be when in the practice that she was. Whether it be with touchy toddlers or grouchy adults. Lauren has an aura around her that pulls people in. Makes them trust her. Her touch like a gentle breeze against their skin. It would be even softer when in regards to you. Having an almost reverent undertone. The same can be said for the emotional aspect of her as well. As she has to connect with her patients and the people she works with. Some social cues may allude to her, but Lauren can read body language like a children’s book. Causing her to be tactile when in regards to things like that.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Lauren adores hugs to an extent. To her it’s the easiest way to show someone you care without going overboard, but she also knows how suffocating it can be. So she tries her best to only dish them out when they’re absolutely needed or warranted.

Her hugs are gentle— like her. She would slowly draw you into her arms and simply hold you. Allowing you to set the pace of the hug. On whether or not you wished for a stronger hold. Always giving you a way to escape if you ever chose to do so.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Lauren is very self conscious about admitting things like this. So she may get close to admitting it before chickening out the last minute. Not because she doubts that you love her, but because she wasn’t sure if you were ready for her to say those words. The moment you say them to her, however, she wouldn’t hesitate in reciprocating.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Lauren isn’t a jealous person. On a base level she understands that she wasn’t the only being to find you attractive. Nor does she believe that every person would respect the boundaries of a person clearly in a relationship. The only time she ever gets truly jealous is when she’s had a bad few days— when she’s truly tired, and her brain doesn’t work like it normally does. Allowing her to act out of character… without inhibitions. If that were to ever occur she would become icy and put the person flirting with you in their place.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Lauren kisses with a clear intent. Whether that be her simply showing you that you’re amusing her. Or with a deeper passion that quickly turns into more. Lauren takes physical touch and emotional connections seriously. So she doesn’t do anything without reason. In each one of her kisses there’s an undercurrent of love. Even if she were mad at you and you kissed her you would be able to tell that. Kissing her is like safety and warmth all wrapped into one. The feeling of coming home.

Lauren loves to kiss your cheeks or hands. As they’re usually the easiest to quickly get to, but if she has time? She loves to kiss you on the lips. To get reacquainted with you. To show you how much she has missed you while being apart.

Lauren on the other hand? She has always been a sucker for forehead kisses. It’s just something that reminds her of simpler times. And it never fails to bring a smile to her lips.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Lauren is around children a lot because of her job. She has utmost patience with them, but there’s an underlying sternness that shows that if they were to misbehave she wouldn’t take it lightly (depending on how bad it was). Even still there’s always a warm feeling that suffuses everyone she speaks with. Showing them that she cared.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Lauren wakes up early so she can start her day. There are only rare instances where she’ll be asleep when you awaken. Because of this Lauren usually has breakfast prepared by the time you pull yourself out of bed. Or coffee (or tea depending on your preference) freshly poured into a cup and put into your waiting hands as you stumble into the kitchen. A bright smile on her face as she presses a brief kiss to your cheek. There are times where she’ll have to go to her office early in the morning, but she’ll usually have something for you to eat when you wake up. Even though nothing can beat her meals.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Lauren can work long hours into the night— so you would have to keep track of her so she doesn’t over extend herself. Once Lauren has either been coerced into coming home or going on her own, she goes through a simple night routine and falls into bed with you. Gentle laughter flowing between the both of you as you settle into bed for the night.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Lauren keeps her past close to her chest. She doesn’t share more than she deems appropriate. So she would start to open up to you bit-by-bit. Not that she doesn’t trust you, but she has a lot of things that she needs to work through before she’s prepared to bare her soul to you like that. Even if she wanted nothing more than to do so.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Lauren is a very patient person. You would have to truly fuck up to get her genuinely angry. She can get irritated but nothing remotely similar to true anger. Even still, when she gets irritated she quickly gets through and tries to talk everything out before it got to the point of legitimate rage.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Lauren would remember everything you told her about yourself. Whether it be a pet beetle you “had” when you were five to your favorite meal. She remembers everything you’ve shared because she knows it’s important to you. That you had deemed her worthy enough to share such things with her.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Probably your first kiss. The first true connection she has ever had with you. The first way to turn something emotional into a physical connection. Where she was able to show you everything she couldn’t put into words. Show you how much you meant to her. How much she needed you. It would be a moment that she would forever cherish in her heart.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Lauren is protective but not to an overbearing degree. Of course she wishes for you to be safe, but she also knows more than most that accidents do happen. She would try to help you avoid such things if she can. Whether it be by giving you information on the situation that you were about to find yourself in to simply taking the injury herself— if she could. And if she couldn’t she would take care of you and help get you back to normal.

Lauren would just ask for you to do the same for her. Be there for her in her time of need. That’s all she could ever ask for.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Lauren would put her all into those things. Being with you made her feel so cherished and loved. She would want to show you her appreciation through those tasks. Wanting to show you that she was listening when you spoke to her and that she did care. She knows what it’s like to get a gift that was simply picked out. Or go to something that was simply done for it to be done. She would never want you to go through that. And she would make damn sure you didn’t.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

When she has a stressful case or is overloaded with work she doesn’t take care of herself. Whether that be by not eating or sleeping. She becomes a husk of what she normally is… even though she tries to play it off like it’s nothing. She would work herself to the bone if she could.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

She is concerned with her looks to a practical degree. She wants to make sure she looks presentable to her patients and other doctors, but she knows that depending on how long she’s been working that meticulous care can start to slip.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Yes. You’re what makes Lauren feel whole. You’re what she has been waiting for. You are the other half of of her soul, and Asa is the other half to her heart.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

I could see Lauren cooking dinner for Yule for all of your friends and family. Your children running around the house with laughter permeating the air. Your eldest son, being a spitting image of her, helping his mother as she cooked. With flour and other various ingredients splattered across their aprons. A companionable silence between them both as they focused on their task— until you came in and swept her into your arms. Causing a surprised laugh to erupt from her lips and your son to look at you both in surprise.. before his own smile appeared. Soon enough all of your children were joining in on the group hug— smothering Lauren with kisses while doing so. And the yams may have been a little different than usual, but it was worth it.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Disloyalty and arrogance. Lauren takes loyalty very seriously and wouldn’t be able to be around someone who didn’t hold it to the same regard— or were willing to betray their loved ones. She also hates arrogant people because of how they make others feel. It’s something that causes her blood to boil.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Lauren has sporadic sleeping habits depending on her work schedule, but if it’s a normal day? Then she’ll usually turn in within a suitable time period. Not too late but not too early either. Bundling herself in blankets and burrowing into her pillows as she did so. She wasn’t a heavy sleeper so if you needed her for anything she would be able to tell.

[sweetmemories2606]

Gruvia Day 2020: Perfect Beginning

Morning, everyone!

Let us all celebrate the glory of today. A day which does not happen often, but is so special and beautiful.

I'm talking about Gruvia Day, of course. It is time to shower our ship with love and perhaps a little angst too.

Here's the info about the story: 

Title: Perfect Beginning 

Summary: Gray and Juvia's first date went perfectly, reminding her of a time when she had thought that a romance like this only existed in books. Finding herself happier than she had been in a long time, she wondered if perhaps their story could have a happy ending after all. 

Word Count: 2K

Genre: Fluff and (minor) Angst

Warnings: This one-shot is set on Ch 4 of Answers, thus I'd advise you to read at least the 1st chapter because there are MAJOR SPOILERS for the story.

Happy reading!

                                    __________________

                                    Perfect Beginning

                                        July 5th, X791

"This place is beautiful" Juvia looked around the field of sunflowers with a serene smile. They were just outside of Crocus, though this place was so quiet it felt like the city was far away.

“I’m glad you like it.” Gray watched her with a soft smile while he set the flowery blanket on the grass then put the basket filled with sweets which Mira had prepared on top of it.

After they had decided to get together the day before, he had asked her on a date to which she had enthusiastically agreed. Panicking because he had no idea what to do, Gray had come to Erza and Mirajane for help in the planning. 

Listening to their ideas, he hadn't been so sure until Alzack and Bisca, who had been listening to them, suggested that Gray take Juvia on a picnic. The couple noted how this is what they had done for their first date. Judging by how they were now happily married with a daughter, Gray sensed it was a good idea.

"So, who gave you the idea for a picnic?" Juvia asked, breaking him out of his thoughts. 

He raised a brow. "You don't believe I came up with this myself?"

She chuckled and shook her head. "Nope. I know you're not much of a romantic." 

He feigned disbelief and hurt. "Hey, I can be very romantic." Standing up and closing the distance between them, he snaked his arms around her waist. 

"Oh, yeah?" Juvia asked while her arms encircled his neck. They leaned in for a passionate kiss, then another. 

Everything felt so perfect, like a fairy tale. Juvia remembered a time when she had wondered if a romance like this existed outside of books.  

                                 __________________

                                    Many years ago….

"What are still you doing up, child?" Irene came into her room for the daily check up. Instead of being asleep like she was supposed to, Juvia had been reading a book. Immersed in the experience, she hadn't heard the older woman until now. 

"Sorry, Irene," The young girl whispered, putting the book on her bedside table. "I'll go to sleep now."

The Scarlet Queen glanced at the object, focusing on the title, before frowning. "Beauty and the Beast again? Aren't you tired of reading this one?"

Juvia shrugged. "It's my favourite." 

Curious, the older woman sat on the red chair beside the bed. "Why is that?" 

"Well…." The young girl was thoughtful for a moment. "Belle loves reading, just like me." 

"That is true," Irene smiled softly. "But what else?"

"I like that Beast lets her go even though he knows that she could break the curse." Juvia noted once a similar smile adorned her face. "It's like my mamma used to say, true love means putting someone else first."

The former suddenly seemed nostalgic and melancholic. "She was right." 

"Are you okay?" The latter was concerned.

"I'm alright," Reassured the older woman, but her sniffle betrayed this statement. 

Silence fell upon them as Irene was lost in thought and Juvia watched her curiously. Once she felt enough time had passed, the young girl posed a rather complicated but not surprising question. "Irene…do you believe that true love exists?"

It took the Scarlet Queen a while to respond. "I do."

Thoughtful again, Juvia followed up with "Then how do I find it?"

Irene shrugged. "Honestly, I don't know, child." Setting the book back on the bedside table, she stood and approached the bed. 

Glancing at the now frowning child, she offered a reassuring smile. "But I'm sure you will find it someday." 

Juvia's frown gave way to a hopeful look. "You are?" 

"I am," Irene nodded before leaning down to press a gentle kiss atop the girl's forehead. Then the older woman urged her to lie down against the pillow and placed the blanket over her. 

Once the child was comfortably settled, Irene stepped back and glanced at her softly. "Your parents..." Juvia's sleepy eyes immediately became alert. "What they had was true love, so I'm sure that you can have it too." 

                                   __________________

Thinking about her parents, Juvia pulled away from the kiss. Noticing her sadness, Gray immediately became concerned. "What's wrong?"

"I'm fine," She reassured, but the tears that began falling suggested otherwise. He wiped them away gently, keeping one arm around her, holding her close.

Grateful for his support, she tried to compose herself in order not to ruin their date. This wasn't the time to think about her parents or how much she missed them. This was a day for her and Gray to enjoy themselves and explore the new direction which their relationship was taking.

Taking deep breaths, Juvia soon managed to stop crying and offered an apology. "I'm sorry."

"There's no need to apologise," He assured while wiping away the last remaining tears. "I understand." 

"Thank you," Able to smile again, she briefly glanced at the picnic basket then back at him. "Now, how about we really begin our date?"

Gray watched her for a moment. "Are you sure? Because if you want to talk about..."

Juvia shook her head. "Not now." Noticing his uncertain expression, she put on a brighter smile. "Right now..." She took his hand. "...I would like to enjoy the wonderful picnic that my boyfriend so kindly prepared."

He nodded. "Okay, then." After squeezing her hand, he led her to sit down on the blanket before grabbing the picnic basket. "You know, it feels weird to hear you call me your boyfriend." 

"Yeah, it does." Juvia agreed. Despite having fantasised for so long that they would get together, the term 'boyfriend' felt out of place.

There was a moment of silence while he took out the strawberry cake and cut up two large pieces. Accepting the plate he had offered, she added. "I won't do it again." 

Unexpectedly, Gray smiled. "Nah, it's okay. I guess I just need more time to get used to it, that's all." 

"That makes sense." Juvia nodded before diving into the cake. While enjoying the sweet, her mind replayed the wonderful moments that they had shared in the last 24 hours, specially their first kiss. 

                                   __________________

                                     One day before

"What's wrong, darling?" Juvia watched as Gray nervously ran his hands through his hair.

He had asked her to come with him outside the infirmary so that they could talk, yet he had said nothing.

"I need… I need to tell you something." He finally looked her in the eyes.

"What is it?" Heart hammering inside her chest; she hoped this was the long awaited moment of his confession.

"Well, I…You see..." Gray stumbled with his words.

"Perhaps we can talk later?" Juvia suggested, gently.

"No." He firmly denied. "I have to do this now."

She waited again. Nothing. "Maybe you could show me what you mean?"

During the time she had known him, it had become clear that he was more a man of action than words.

His eyes widened before nervousness morphed into determination. He moved quickly but cautiously. An arm wrapped around her waist, bringing her closer while watching her reaction.

Juvia smiled, arms instinctively encircling his neck. Then, his free hand reached for her cheek and softly stroked it for a moment.

Gray started leaning in. "Juvia, can I…."

She didn't let him finish. "Yes."

Their first kiss was passionate and even though it didn't happen the way Juvia had been dreaming of, she loved it nonetheless.

(Scene taken from Answers, Chapter 1)

                                   __________________

"What are you thinking about?" Gray asked after a few minutes, setting his empty plate aside. 

"I was just remembering when you kissed me the first time." Juvia chose to be honest. 

"Oh." A slight blush coloured his cheeks. "That was rather...embarrassing."

"It was very sweet," She softly remarked. 

"Thanks." Still blushing, Gray searched into the picnic basket for two caramade franks. 

Her eyes widened. "Where did you get those?"

"Gajeel found a store 2 days ago, so he told me about it last night," He explained while offering one to her. 

Accepting it, Juvia was genuinely surprised. "Gajeel...helped you with this?"

Gray chuckled at her reaction. "Yeah. He really cares about you, so I guess that's why he helped me make this date as perfect as possible." 

Taking a bite of the caramade frank, she reminded herself to thank Gajeel later for truly being her best friend. "That's good. I was hoping you two could get along." 

The ice mage smiled. "I know this is important to you, so I'll try." 

She returned it. "Thank you." 

                                   __________________

The rest of their date went smoothly and both had an enjoyable time. They got to know each other better, learning the most basic and trivial details such as their favourite colours. 

"I do love blue." She expectedly answered, making him laugh. "I figured." 

"What about yours?" Juvia questioned a moment later. 

Having finished eating,Gray moved closer to sit by her side. "Well, actually mine is silver."

"Really?" She stared at him in surprise. "May I ask why?"

Gray's expression turned melancholic once he answered. "It was my father's name."

This led into a conversation which they hadn't been eager for, but it was important nonetheless. He shared details about his parents, Ur and Deliora. 

Juvia was aware of most of his backstory, but there was new information such as the scarf which Ur had put around him and Lyon; it was the reason why he always wore one in the winter despite not feeling cold. The water mage also learned about his favourite childhood toy, a polar bear which had been gifted on his 1st birthday; as far as he remembered.

Gray even told her about the year before he joined Fairy Tail and the adventures he had. For once in his life, he opened up about everything, no reservations nor secrets. He trusted her fully. 

Alternatively, Juvia had to hide many details when they shifted the conversation to her childhood and family life. Trained to know how to lie and manipulate, she made her stories about growing up in an orphanage without anyone to call a friend sound sincere. 

It weighed on her conscience to be lying to him after he had been so honest, but there was no alternative. The truth needed to stay hidden, for both of their sakes. 

                                   __________________

Concealing her guilt was hard, but luckily Gray mistook this for sadness and held her in a tight embrace. His attempt to comfort her soon led to a make-out session and she found herself lying beneath him on of the flowery blanket. 

It was the perfect distraction from the complications of her life, so it's not like she was complaining. In fact, she was hoping their moment wouldn't have to end, but unfortunately their need for air eventually surpassed their desire for closeness. 

Gray got off from her and moved to lay by her side. Sweaty and breathless, they glanced at each other with mirroring smiles. "Wow. That was..."

 "I know." Juvia brought a hand to his cheek, stroking it gently. "Thank you."

"Of course." He took her hand and pressed a kiss to it, recalling that Lyon did that all the time and most women seemed to find it charming. 

Juvia smiled even brighter at this. "I really didn't expect you to be so..." 

He raised a brow in expectation. "What?"

She leaned in for a soft kiss. "Romantic."

Gray smirked. "I told you. I can be very romantic if I want to." 

"So you've never wanted to before?" She inquired, recalling their friends telling her how he was the least romantic person they knew. 

He fixed her with an adoring look. "I hadn't found someone worth being romantic for." 

It was the sweetest declaration, so she couldn't help it but to enthusiastically kiss him, to which he eagerly returned.

Even though he hadn't said those three words yet, Juvia knew that he was in love as much as she was. This made her heart swell with joy and reminded her of the first time she had watched two people fall in love.

                                   __________________

                                    Many years ago...

Juvia sat beside a great oak tree in the gardens, watching the couple embrace. Ajeel Rahmal, a young prince who had recently joined the Spriggan 12, held his now girlfriend, Nadia, tightly. Both seemed immensely glad and relieved after having confessed their feeling. It was the most heartwarming sight. 

"They look so happy," Juvia observed, smiling softly. 

"They do." Turning to her right, she found that Irene had returned from her brief chat with the emperor. The older woman seemed happy too once her eyes found the couple. 

Noticing them kiss, Juvia couldn't help but wonder. "Irene, do you think they will get married?"

Irene stared at her in surprise before raising a brow. "What makes you think that?" 

"Well, according to the books I've read, when two people love each other they get married," The young girl  innocently replied.

"Oh, yes." Irene nodded. "They always end like that, don't they?" She seemed lost in thought for a moment before sighing. "It's a shame that real life doesn't work that way." 

"What do you mean?" Juvia was confused, but also curious. 

The older woman was clearly trying to hide her bitterness, but it still showed. "Just that there isn't always a happy ending."

"I know," The young girl frowned. "My parents...They didn't get one." 

For some reason, Irene looked guilty for a moment. However, her expression soon returned to sorrowful. "They didn't." 

With the mood now heavy and gloomy, they fell silent. Their attention returned to the couple and both felt envious at their happiness. Then, once the silence was becoming unbearable, Irene offered the young girl an assuring smile. "But that doesn't mean that you can't have one." 

"So you think I can be happy..." Juvia glanced at the couple just as they laughed at something Ajeel had said. "...like them?"

"I'm sure you can." Irene knelt down to her level, placing both hands on the young girl's shoulder. "You're beautiful, kind and brave." She brushed back a strand of blue hair. "Just like your mother." 

"Thank you." Juvia blushed at the compliments. 

"I wouldn't be surprised if, someday, you found someone who will love you as much as your father loved her." Irene told her, genuinely. 

"And then we'll get married?" The young girl asked, hopeful. 

The older woman chuckled, then nodded. "Yes. Maybe you'll get a happy ending just like in your books."

[ikesenrambles]

Hi, if you're doing headcanons, how about this? The MC (and probably Sasuke) hand-draw memes to entertain themselves, but the warlords find them hidden in her room while MC is away. How do they react? Whichever warlords you want to do is fine. :)

Thank you so much for sending in a request! I love memes, and I absolutely loved doing this request. I’m sorry that it took so long to do - I wanted to make sure I did it justice~ I hope that you enjoy it and that I was able to deliver!

If you enjoy my work, please consider supporting me on Ko-Fi, ikesenrambles. I don’t have much spending money for Ikesen since I’m saving my paychecks to cover college. Supporting me on Ko-Fi would mean that I have pocket money for the little things that bring me joy, like Ikesen. I would be able to buy premium routes, which in turn means that I can learn more about the warlords & write even better stories for you to enjoy. ♡ It would really ~meme~ a lot to me.

MC’s Doodles: Nobunaga and Hideyoshi

Sitting on the dais, a thoughtful smile plays on Nobunaga’s lips as he carefully studies a lost page of your sketchbook. “Hideyoshi, come here,” he commands. Immediately, Hideyoshi rises to his feet and approaches.

“Our new chatelaine is rather entertaining, don’t you think?” Nobunaga muses. “She captures my likeness quite perfectly. Even the emotion behind some of my deepest desires and my most intimate whims…”

“If you would allow me to see…” Hideyoshi’s voice trails off. Nobunaga hands him the slip of paper only for Hideyoshi’s eyes to widen in flustered disbelief. “Is this… k-konpeito!?” he blurts in a panic, shaking his head furiously at your seemingly blatant disregard for Nobunaga’s health. “My sincerest apologies, my lord, but I will not allow this kind of provocative propaganda in the castle!”

“Stand down, Hideyoshi.” The simple command from his master is enough for Hideyoshi to bow deeply in apology. “It’s a rather tasteful portrait of me,” Nobunaga tells him. “I would like to see it displayed in the castle.”

With a hesitant sigh, Hideyoshi nods in reluctant resignation. “As you wish, my lord. I’ll see it done.”

MC’s Doodles: Ieyasu and Mitsunari

“Mitsunari–!” An astonished, overemphasized gasp penetrates thoughtful silence as Hideyoshi comes swooping in between Mitsunari, Ieyasu, and Masamune, who are snooping through your private sketchbook behind the closed doors of your chamber. “Don’t you know how rude it is to look through another person’s belongings without permission?” He scolds the three with a firm shake of his head, grabbing the book from Mitsunari. “I expected better from you two especially,” Hideyoshi puffs in frustration, turning a pointing finger toward Ieyasu and Masamune.

Ieyasu rolls his eyes sarcastically in response while Masamune chuckles softly to himself, shaking his head at Hideyoshi’s overreaction. Per usual, it takes a few moments for Mitsunari to fully return to reality, his eyes continuing to scan the space in front of him despite his hands being empty. When he finally does, he cocks his head to the side in curious consideration, mulling over the words written on the page he had just studied. “I don’t quite understand,” he admits with sheepish innocence. There is not an ounce of offense or annoyance in his voice.

“This is…” Hideyoshi stifles another sound of surprise as he allows himself a peek at the contents of your sketchbook. His face reddens at your unexpected profanity. At a loss for words, he quickly closes the book shut and tucks it back under your pillow. “Lord Mitsunari, please be assured that she was only joking–!”

“Don’t even bother,” Ieyasu interrupts Hideyoshi with a scoff as he attempts to explain the illustration to Mitsunari. “It’s a joke, Mitsunari. Someone as dense as you couldn’t possibly understand.”

Mitsunari’s face softens at what he interprets to be gentle reassurance from his close friend, Ieyasu. “Of course, Lord Ieyasu would never say something with the intention to harm,” Mitsunari says confidently, flashing an even wider smile at Ieyasu, much to Masamune’s amusement and Ieyasu’s utter disgust.

MC’s Doodles: Yukimura

It’s a hot, summer afternoon. You and Yukimura are lazing under the cool shade of a tall tree, enjoying the rare luxury of idle time, when inspiration for a new kimono design suddenly strikes you. You ask Yukimura if he would retrieve your sketchbook for you, which you left in his room.

Yukimura agrees, finding your sketchbook tossed on your futon. Curiously, he flips through a few pages of your designs to admire your artistic ability. Before long, however, a particular doodle of yours catches him off-guard and captures his attention.

The illustration seems to depict Yukimura himself. He spends a few moments just staring at it, trying to decipher what it could possibly mean. “I don’t get it…” he murmurs to himself, stumped.

“Of course you don’t.” Yukimura hears a soft sigh behind him as a hand clasps him gently on the shoulder. “Please tell me didn’t call her this right after you two…” Shingen’s voice trails off.

“Right after we…?” Yukimura repeats thoughtlessly, not quite sure of what Lord Shingen meant to ask him. Shingen only raises an eyebrow in response until the young vassal, finally understanding, cringes. Embarrassment appears all over Yukimura’s face as his cheeks flush bright pink.

“O-of course I wouldn’t!” he says defensively, shutting the sketchbook closed with a loud thud. “Anyway, it’s none of your business what we did–uh, or didn’t do–!”

Shingen can’t help but smirk at Yukimura’s denial. “Ah, so my little Yuki is now a man,” he muses teasingly. “Had you paid more attention to my habits, perhaps you would better understand how to please the second sex.”

“The what now–?” Yukimura groans at Lord Shingen’s unsolicited advice, marching out of the room. “It wouldn’t make sense to compare her to a summer’s day. They have nothing in common,” he grumbles under his breath on his way out.

“I really failed you, didn’t I?” Shingen mumbles with a disappointed sigh.

MC’s Doodles: Kennyo

“Looks like the Oda princess left behind her valued notebook… how foolish of her,” Kennyo speaks in a grim tone, a sinister smile appearing on his scarred face as he picks up your forgotten sketchbook. “Now…” The vengeful desire in his darkened voice is tinged with self-satisfaction. “What precious secrets could Nobunaga’s favorite woman be hiding?”

The man’s husky voice cracks slightly as he stammers out in confusion, “Is that… me?” He coughs loudly to counter the bewilderment - and even slight embarrassment - in his speech, forcing a frown to mask the sheepish expression on his face as a warmth begins to spread across his face. “As if the hatred in my heart could be distilled by such simple means,” he mutters with a bitter scoff as though offended by your uncanny ability to read him.

“Abbott, is everything alright?” One of the disciples peers into Kennyo’s shed, concern in his eyes. “We are all set for the ambush tomorrow.”

“Excellent,” Kennyo whispers, a sickeningly twisted grin appearing on his face. “Tomorrow, we will take back the dignity that was stolen from us at Honno-ji. We will purify our perished brethren with the spilled blood of the Oda.”

Once the disciple leaves, Kennyo turns his attention to the little weasel curled up in the corner. “Come here, Hozuki,” he calls to it in a soothing voice. It nuzzles into the palm of his hand, enjoying his gentle touch.

Suddenly coming to terms with his predictability, Kennyo sighs in frustration, crumpling your drawing and discarding it on the floor before continuing to pamper the tiny animal.

Sasuke’s Doodles: Kenshin

Yukimura and Shingen stand around Sasuke’s study table, completely in awe of a hidden treasure they’ve happened to stumble upon in Sasuke’s room: the ninja’s precious research journal.

Sasuke’s handwriting is hurried but clean: nothing less than they would have expected from the genius ninja. On lined pages are complicated mathematical formulas and comprehensive calculations that neither Yukimura nor Shingen know what to make of.

From behind the two, the sliding doors are roughly thrown open as Kenshin strides toward them impatiently. “What’s taking so long? I’m thirsting for the thrill of battle,” Kenshin mutters with a disgruntled sigh.

“Hold on just a moment,” Shingen orders, beckoning Kenshin to take a closer look at Sasuke’s notes.

Ever stubborn, Kenshin firmly refuses. “I will not.” Forcefully, he shakes the journal from Yukimura and Shingen’s prying hands. As the three tug on the notebook’s pages, the journal falls flat on the floor, opened to an even more perplexing illustration.

A doodle depicts Kenshin casually choking Sasuke, who, even in his precarious position, wears a mask of nonchalance. Written in bold text underneath the drawing are the words, “You’re weak Sasuke.”

Upon seeing the drawing, Shingen laughs softly. “It looks to be a friendly joke about the Dragon of Echigo’s peculiarities,” Shingen muses aloud.

“A joke?” Yukimura scoffs and shakes his head. “This happened for real. I would know. I was there!”

Kenshin’s frown soon softens into a smile that, though genuine, is somewhat terrifying given the context of the illustration. “Ah, yes,” he murmurs in a voice that almost carries with it a sense of nostalgia. “I remember Sasuke’s first days with us.” Picking up the journal, he reminisces fondly of the ninja. “There’s nothing like some good-natured sparring. I wonder, perhaps Sasuke is trying to tell me that he would like a rematch.”

Sasuke’s Doodles: Ieyasu

You are out shopping with Ieyasu when you catch Sasuke stealing glances at the two of you from behind a gingko tree. “Just a moment, okay?” you reassure your boyfriend, squeezing his hand softly as you let go to hurriedly rush to Sasuke’s side for a quick conversation.

When you don’t return soon enough, Ieyasu becomes suspicious. Both you and Sasuke can feel his hot gaze observing from where you left him, his fingers curled in a fist around the baskets of groceries that he’s been carrying for you.

“What were you talking to him about?” Ieyasu asks as he possessively wraps his arm around your waist in a show of territory in front of Sasuke. You can’t help but giggle at Ieyasu’s inability to hide his jealousy. His face flushes at your soft laughter, and he avoids your gaze, embarrassed.

“It’s not me that he’s interested in,” you tell him, retrieving a piece of paper from the sleeve of your kimono. “Here. He wanted me to give you this.”

Ieyasu snatches the note from your hand. The pink shade of his cheeks deepens as he reads over it “Ng–!” A quiet sound of surprise escapes his lips, followed by an uninterested scoff. “This… I…” He sighs, tucking the note away. “I don’t understand why you hang out with that weird ninja.”

“Yasu, he’s my friend. Be nice,” you scold him teasingly, tugging on the sleeve of his kimono. “Come on, I told you, didn’t I? There’s nothing to be jealous about.

“Who said I was jealous?” Ieyasu scoffs again only for the timid blush of his cheeks to betray the annoyance in his voice. “Whatever, it doesn’t matter who he’s interested in, anyway.” He pulls you even closer. “You’re mine and mine alone, okay?”

Bonus Meme:

All of the above memes were made by yours truly! The alignment chart above was found here & filled out by me!

If you want, tag yourself for the alignment chart~!

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧ 

A special shout out to @mythiica for reviewing my memes for quality! It gave me the confidence I needed to be myself with these! (＾▽＾)

[dracoqueen22]

[CR] Generosity Provides

Universe: Critical Role Campaign Two, And Other Virtues Series Characters: Fjord/Caduceus, The Mighty Nein Rating: K+ Enticements: None Description: Fjord notices things, too. And he notices that Caduceus needs to look after himself a bit more. For FjorClay Week, Day One “Battle Couple/Post Battle” Warmth washes over Fjord, followed by a ticklish tingle, and the last of his aches and pains vanish. He feels the smile of the Wildmother like sunshine on the crown of his head, and though he hadn’t noticed them, a few tiny scratches on his arm fade into nothing. The battle had been more of a skirmish. These days, a few dire badgers are nothing the Mighty Nein can't handle, but one had gotten past Fjord’s guard when he'd been aiming at the largest of them bearing down on Caleb, and weak or not, badger claws are sharp. It cut right through a gap in his armor, slicing under his arm.

"Thanks Caduceus," Jester says as she feeds little niblets to Sprinkle, looking none the worse for wear despite having been the one to stumble on the dire badgers first. There are a few rips in her cloak, but a quick Mending cantrip takes care of those. "Oh yeah, thanks," says Beau, like an afterthought, though she doesn't mean it that way. She's lounging near Jester, flopped on the leaf-littered ground, the claw marks on her arm healed to tiny red lines. She'd taken that blow for Jester. Unsurprising. "Oh, it's no trouble," says Caduceus, and Fjord's belly does that little flip-flop it always does when he hears Caduceus' voice. "The hut will be ready in a moment," Caleb offers from nearby as he methodically stakes out the perfect location and begins the ritual which will create their protective bubble for the night. "Take your time. I don't think those badgers wanna mess with us anymore," Beau drawls. It’s hard to tell if she’s serious, or genuinely annoyed. She really needs to work on her tone. Fjord makes a mental note of it. "They definitely don't want to mess with you, Beau," Jester says, poking Beau in one of her envious deltoids. "I think you punched that one so hard his momma felt it." They laugh. Caduceus picks his way through their gathered friends, past Nott fiddling with her crossbow because it had jammed on her earlier, and past Yasha, carefully running a whetstone over her blade. "There you are," Caduceus says with a slow smile. "Here I am." Fjord pats the empty space beside him, which he'd left specifically for his -- boyfriend? lover? Partner? -- he’s still looking for the right term. "Was I lost?" "No. I think it's just a thing people say to each other." Caduceus sits, laying his staff beside him, armor clanking a little until he clicks the buckles loose and slides off the heavy chestplate. His shoulder slump with relief as he rolls his neck, trying to ease the tension gathered there. There's a cut on his cheek. Fjord brushes his thumb under it, swiping away a few droplets of blood. "You didn't fix this?" "Jester needed it more." Caduceus sweeps his hair over one shoulder. He gives Fjord another one of those soft, slow smiles. "It's just a scratch." It's always just a scratch. Until it isn't. Caduceus gets mortally injured a lot with them, more so than most. Used to be it was Caleb they had to watch out for, but Caleb sticks to the back more often than not, while Caduceus runs into the fray to pick them up and put them back together. He's like a magnet to their enemies. They always aim for him. And he always thinks of the rest of them first. "It'll be gone by morning. Mostly," Caduceus says. Fjord makes a non-committal noise and reaches up, dragging his fingers through Caduceus' hair, claws gentle over his scalp. Caduceus groans quietly, his ears sinking down with delight. He leans in toward Fjord almost unconsciously until he catches himself and gives Fjord a quiet, embarrassed glance. It’s always hardest for Caduceus to ask for it when he needs it most, as if he’s not allowed to take care of himself until he’s sure no one else needs him. "Lap's open. If you want it," Fjord says. Caduceus slants him a knowing look. "I do," he says, and shifts around, until he pillows his head on Fjord's thigh, hair spilling in a pink thigh over Fjord’s trousers. "Though it seems to be more for your sake, than mine." "What makes you say that?" "Mm. Intuition." Caduceus' eyes slit closed, and he tilts his head into the stroke of Fjord's fingers, the familiar paths he's learned since the first time he'd touched Caduceus like this. "You all right?" Fjord wants to kiss him. "You fixed me up. I'm fine," Fjord says, and he concentrates, reaching for the place within him, where the touch of the Wildmother blooms like a knot of warmth and comfort. He draws it up and out, focusing, and when his fingers stroke over Caduceus' cheek, they brush gently over the cut. Melora's warmth seeps from his fingertips, the cut sealing up and healing over, without leaving so much as a scar. It's not much, Fjord's devotion isn't as strong as it could be yet, but he -- and her favor -- will get stronger yet. Caduceus hums and looks up at him. "You didn't have to do that." "Yes, I did." Fjord tucks some hair behind Caduceus' ear, taking the opportunity to tickle it until it flicks out of irritation. "You take care of us, so I should take care of you." His face heats a little. "It makes sense, right?" Caduceus gives him a long look, and then he smiles, and gods, Fjord wants to kiss him so much. "Sure," he says. "Feels nice." "It's not much," Fjord admits. Because Caduceus puts them back together from the worst wounds, the terriblest poisons. He guards their lives, dulls mortal blows, and keeps an eye for them in the battlefield. Healing a small wound is nothing in the face of that. "It's perfect." Caduceus grabs his hand, pulls it in range to lay a kiss on Fjord's knuckles, scarred as they are. "This works, too." The tips of Fjord's ears burn. "If you say so." "I just did actually." Caduceus chuckles and puts Fjord's hand back on his hair. "You can keep going if you want." He does, in fact, want. So he threads his fingers through Caduceus' hair -- picking out a stray leaf and petal which managed to find their way into the long strands -- and picks up his rhythm once more. "You'll get stronger," Caduceus murmurs as he closes his eyes, and fully relaxes under Fjord's touch. "I'm not worried about that." "Yes, you are." Fjord exhales a sigh and smiles. "Yes, fine. I am." Caduceus grins, and one eye peeks open in a rare show of mischief. "In the meantime, however, I've heard there is one thing which also helps with healing." Fjord lifts his eyebrows. "And what's that?" "He wants you to kiss him, Fjord!" Jester says from too far away, but also too close. Fjord glares at her, as she giggles and nudges Beau with an elbow, who nudges back, a little harder than she intended probably. "Stop being nosy," Fjord says. "Stop being gross in public," Beau retorts, and promptly flips him off. "They don't really have a choice right now, Beau. Besides, do we count as public?" Jester asks, elbowing Beau again, and she must have jabbed Beau good, because their monk coughs and rubs at her ribs. "Ow." "Sorry." Fjord sighs and returns his attention to Caduceus, whose face is creased with mirth. "She's not wrong," Caduceus says as he sits up and leans into Fjord's space. "I do want you to kiss me." Fjord tilts his head up, and then up a little more -- Caduceus is just too damn tall. "That's a myth, you know." "All myths hold a little bit of truth to them," Caduceus says, and he bends down so Fjord can kiss him, like he's been wanting to do since the skirmish ended, and Caduceus had barely avoided the swipe of the badger's claws. Fjord threads his fingers through Caduceus' hair and keeps him close for the kiss, their mouths moving together, the brief taste of Caduceus' tongue on the seam of his lips. It can't be anything more than this, not here and now, but this is good. This is perfect. Sometimes, Fjord can scarcely believe how lucky he is. Until a branch cracks under the weight of someone's boot -- it had to be deliberate -- and Fjord pulls away from Caduceus to see Yasha standing nearby, awkwardly shifting, but smiling indulgently. "The, uh, hut is ready," she says, pointing over her shoulder with a thumb. "If you two want to, um, join us. Or not, I mean, you might like it out here for a bit." "Thank you, Miss Yasha," Caduceus says, because he seems to be immune to embarrassment. "Sure," she says, and because she's Yasha, she stands there for another awkward moment before she turns and leaves, ducking into the hut where everyone else has gone as well. "I think this technically counts as privacy now," Caduceus says. Fjord laughs and presses his forehead to Caduceus' clavicle, slipping an arm around his -- lover? partner? boyfriend? they really need to figure this out -- waist. "Guess that means you should kiss me again." "I think it does." Caduceus hums. He leans in and does just that, slanting their lips together. Warmth blossoms in the middle of Fjord's chest, not unlike the drizzling warmth of Caduceus' healing prayers, and he smiles into the kiss, deepening it only as much as he dares. They're alone, for a few precious moments before they have to join the others, and Fjord plans to soak up every second he can. He has to get stronger, to prove his devotion so he can call on Melora when he needs. Someone needs to watch out for Caduceus the way he looks out for them, and Fjord plans to be that someone. He wants to hold on to this as long as he can. ****

a/n: Feedback is greatly welcome and appreciated! Feel free to comment, reblog, et cetera. I’d love to hear what you all think! 

[inspirationdivine]

Trouble in Faeradise || Lydia and Deirdre

Timing: Shortly after Lydia and Simon got unstuck

Parties: @deathduty, @inspirationdivine

Summary: Lydia and Deirdre entice a human into a fairy ring. Things happen. As Deirdre puts it, it was not a mushroom vibe. 

Content Warnings: Compulsion (Fairy ring magic), emotional manipulation

Simon was darling and pleasant and very amenable, but if Lydia had had to be stuck to someone for so long, it would have rather been Deirdre. They hadn’t had enough opportunity to spend time together recently - for so many reasons, all of them understandable - but Lydia was desperate to bond more with the banshee. Especially now that Morgan had used the word love. So when she saw the banshee, Lydia gave her a hug in greeting. “Ready for some fun?”

The hug in greeting was a surprise, though one Deirdre prized. Perhaps she was right in thinking Lydia was warming up to her (it was very hard to tell when she still half-expected the other fae to turn around and yell “TRAITOR” at any moment). But there was no greater act of bonding between two fae than grabbing a human and taking them to the nearest fairy ring (Deirdre had spotted one in the woods earlier this week and her first thought about it was to tell Lydia). “As a fae, I think I was born ready for fun...and bones. Which I do consider to be fun.” She glanced around the irregularly busy street, filled with drunks stumbling from one bar to the next to cram their pathetic Friday nights with more excitement. “Speaking of, did you bring your big, white, windowless van or is this one of those tasteful kidnappings?” 

“Deirdre, I swear to god, please do not bring us to some mangled corpse,” Lydia replied, but with a soft nudge and wink that belied the gentle teasing of it all. “Or at least, not this time.” She eyed them too. To the left, three girls sipped seruptitiously at a bottle of water, or at least so they claimed, before joining the queue to a local club. Their skirts curled around their asses, matching in silver sequens. To their right, a man stumbled down a dark alley, whisper yelling his need to urinate to his friends. Lydia’s lip curled a little. “Totally tasteful, my dear. I suspect all we need to do is offer one of these fellows an irresistable night with two beautiful woman and they would follow us right into a dragon’s den. No kiss needed. Although I tend to prefer them high over drunk. Oh! What about that one over there?” Lydia asked, curling her hand around Deirdre’s arm, pointing at a girl with faded blue hair who was flipping off some guy as she texted at her phone.

What were the best humans to torture? Deirdre had often pondered the question. Some could be unsatisfying, like when they prattled on about children and wives and how their sick mother in the hospital was expecting someone to leave her roses. Most fae did not listen, or care, but Deirdre---always watching---was decidedly more observant. Ther fun humans were the drunk ones, too intoxicated to understand what was happening, and more likely to play off their strange fae encounter as some kind of by product of drugs. But then there were different types of drunks, weren’t they? And some were so sad. Deirdre’s eyes surveyed the crowd just as Lydia’s did. “But I love a good mangled corpse,” she pouted, scoping out a target. The men would be easy, and if they were good--which they were--they could snag a few of them for their purposes. Then her eyes fell to the girl. “She looks...angry.” Like she might realize in the middle of getting a mushroom shaved into her hair that she had a lot to live for and needed to follow her passion in creative writing instead of staying in the nursing program she hated. Which was...an outcome of undecided amounts of fun. This was easier in the past, when she cared less about what the lives of these humans looked like. Which was increasingly hard to ignore as she continued to human-watch. “I--you know what? Let’s go with the girl. She looks like she’s having a terrible night and isn’t it our duty to show her some fun?” Of course, fun for them, mushroom mind-control for her. 

“I know you do, but I don’t subject you to the local amatuer open mic nights, do I?”She does look angry. I like a challenge,” Lydia replied. Not that kind of challenge in her long term hunts, which were also in progress as they spoke, but for dancing around naked in the moonlight? Completely so. She waited for Deirdre’s indecision, her eyes flicking around to other options lazily - a man adjusting his crop top as he waited for a date, a woman staring back at them with glowing green eyes. The latter, Lydia thought, was definitely not human, and looked a wholly different kind of fun, but not for tonight. “It is definitely our duty,” Lydia replied with a smile. Arm hooked through Deirdre’s arm, they walked over to the woman side by side over to the woman with the white hair. “I hope those men aren’t giving you a hard time?” Lydia asked, voice as smooth as syrup. 

“You could--” Deirdre leaned in with a smirk, “maybe I’d like some entertainment with my wine next time.” Not that Lydia wasn’t entertaining alone, but as on a serious note, as friends, she assumed they’d share at least a little in each other’s interests. And so, just like that, they approached the girl.  And she, shocked to see two irrefutably attractive women, turned to them abruptly and with wide-eyes. She stopped texting, but her screen remained illuminating her face against the bars and clubs’ neon signs. 

“Yeah…” Emma said hesitantly, as if agreeing with them was a defeat on its own, “look, I don’t wanna be like, a part of your threesome or whatever, okay?” But the stutter around the words meant that, just for the brief second she used to take in their appearance, she had thought about it. She was sharp, and adjusted herself and her body to angle away from them, arms crossed over her chest. “What do you want?”

“We just wanted to help you,” Deirdre started softly, “we know how it can be, alone at night. We just wanted to make sure you were safe.” A pang of guilt rang through her. How safe would she be once they’d lead her into a fairy ring? The girl eyed them suspiciously, she offered no thanks or apologies for her harsh tone. Her body remained closed-off. 

Lydia matched Deirdre’s smirk with a more genuine smile. “Alright. Next time we’ll listen to some talentless hacks perform in the hope of finding some diamond in the rough, and then we’ll go on a walk to find something dead and pretty.” She had been teasing, but now she wasn’t. Not that it mattered for tonight, as they walked over to their evening’s entertainment. A threesome with a human? Lydia had her cringe well, and let Deirdre do the talking, soft and lily sweet. She could imagine it, Lydia thought. Being a human and looking at Deirdre and being entranced. Not aware that your death might be around the corner. But the girl was not impressed, her eyes distrustful. Perhaps she had grown up here, watching her friends disappear and die over time. Perhaps she had heard of magical threats and knew the risks. Perhaps she was merely sensible.

“Do you at least have friends coming to meet you?” Lydia asked softly, after a moments beat.

A deep, long suffering sigh. “No. They bailed, so I guess I’m headed home.”

“It sounds like you don’t want to do that.” Lydia replied, running her finger over her lips idly. “You know, we’re headed to an exclusive party. No creeps invited, very tightly vetted. If you don’t want to head into a club like that by yourself.” Lydia gestured to a queue for one of the clubs nearby. The girl pursed her lips, but she was looking at them more intently now, as if weighing it up. Tempted, even with her arms closed. 

“I’m not doing an orgy either, for the record.” The girl replied.

Was it softness that made her too weak? Did caring about humans force her into the kind of awareness that made it hard to abduct people? Hearing Lydia talk about an ‘exclusive party’ was ingenious, the kind of plan Deirdre should have been thinking about, but couldn’t. Instead she noticed how lost the girl seemed, how she’d perked up at the idea of something exclusive, as if she were special enough to be included, as if she mattered enough. A place where friends wouldn’t leave her. She wondered what her life must have been like to stir these feelings, if she’d ever had a true friend or if they’d just caught her on an off-night. Her deliberations did not show on her face, Deirdre’s soft smile didn’t falter. She was thinking too much about this. This was fae mischief; harmless. It was what fae did. “It’s not an orgy,” Deirdre laughed easily, as if it was some amusing thought. “I mean it could be if---I’m joking! I’m joking.” Deirdre took the moment to recover from her joke to assess the girl. What kind of an exclusive party would they paint this as? Upscale? Intimate? What did she seem more interested in? She watched the girls eyes dart around, observing where she lingered. The groups seemed to catch her eyes. Maybe she didn’t really like clubs, she just went because her friends did, what she really wanted was---”it’s just a small thing, really. Just some friends sitting around a fire, smoking, drinking, talking. It’s just---it’s hard to get to know people when the clubs and bars are so loud, right? And it always seems like everyone just wants something out of you and it’s---I don’t like it. So, an exclusive gathering. You don’t have to waste your night.” The girl’s arms slowly uncrossed. Bingo. She never would have noticed her loneliness if she didn’t have an empathetic eye---she might have stuck with clubbing angle, pitched it as something upscale (the humans did love the idea of fancy). She felt terrible for a moment, and then the girl spoke, and she felt worse. “How do I know I can trust you guys? And, like, if it’s your friends I don’t want to--” she caught her insecurity in her throat, swallowing it down and standing up a little straighter to cover it, “like, you know. It’s whatever, but how do I know this isn’t some weird like sex party thing? ‘Cause I told you, I’m not interested. How can I trust you?” 

Lydia’s gaze didn’t flicker as Deirdre continued describing it, although she was caught off guard. It was a risky proposition, after all. The idea of being outsiders at an insider event was off putting to most people. Something high end with an open bar was usually the safest bet. It was interesting too, to hear Deirdre describe what they were doing, how she crafted her half truths to suit this girl’s need. Yet here, the girl opened up, melting like butter into Deirdre’s words. Lydia gave Deirdre the slightest squeeze. “I promise, we’re not inviting you to take part in a sex party. I take my word very seriously.” 

The girl eyed her suspiciously, because of course it wasn’t enough. Instead, Lydia took a slightly different approach, leaning into one of this identity’s greatest uses. “My name’s Lydia Griffin. You can google me. I am the author of the Eyes to the Sky series. You can find a frankly terrifying amount of information about me in the blink of the eye. What’s your name?”

“You wrote that?” The girl replied, her eyes widening. “I started reading the first one a few weeks ago.” She realised, quickly, that she looked a little too eager, and tried to shutter her excitement as she did just what Lydia asked - googling her to find Lydia’s authorial portrait. “Holy shit. I’m Emma. Not, that, uh. I don’t know if I fit in with that kind of crowd.”

“That’s alright,” Lydia said, “It’s not that kind of party. Everyone is very welcoming and lovely. We’re always looking for new friends.” Emma’s eyes widened, like she couldn’t quite believe it, trying to play it cool. She looked to Deirdre, as if for a final reassurance. 

Deirdre tried her best to hide her shock at hearing Lydia reveal her identity. Now they really had to ensure to bind her into keeping their identities a secret or...did Lydia plan on killing her after? It wouldn’t be unheard of, and at the whim of the mushrooms, who knew which part of them would emerge dominant. But as she watched the girl’s eyes grow wide, a smile finally threatening to pull at her lips, she could see why. And now they had a name. Great. Now she’d know exactly who she was making hold her mushrooms, probably. And then Emma turned to her. Deirdre hid her hesitation well, but her voice dropped into a newfound gentleness. “It’s nice to meet you, Emma. I’m Deirdre, no fancy job or anything. I actually just met Lydia about a week ago,” she smiled at the other fae warmly to sell her point, “and most of her friends too. Some people there are strangers to me too, but they’ve been so kind and welcoming to me, especially being new in town.” She gestured to her throat, pointing out her accent. “Am I right in guessing you’re interested in literature?” Emma nodded slowly, nearly ashamed to admit it. “Well then, you just have to come. Lydia would love someone whose brain she could pick, right?” She smiled, “and there’ll be a lot of people there with similar interests. I wouldn’t really know, but there’s---uh, other authors, right?” She kept turning to Lydia, as if she needed clarification, reeling Emma in with her feigned hesitation. If one of them was less sure, it made the reluctant Emma more comfortable knowing her fears were shared. And unsurprisingly, she shrugged, biting her cheek to stop a smile. “Okay,” she said finally, “I’ll come.” 

Lydia suppressed the way she bristled at Deirdre’s lie, but the other fae might have just felt the shift of her wings. Not her problem, especially as she watched Deirdre sink the final hooks into Emma, one word at a time. It was almost word perfect too, creating the most perfectly relatable personality. Making herself seem human, even though Lydia knew Deirdre was anything but. She nodded along to Deirdre’s speech, and that in itself twisted Lydia’s belly a little. The moment Emma nodded, tucking her hair behind her ears, Lydia smiled, the ache dissipating. I’ll come, she said, and Lydia turned it into a promise, a thread to pull their prey along by.  “Great,” Lydia said, warm and inviting in tone. “It isn’t far. Walk with us?” She invited Emma, who after another moment rocked off the wall and began to walk with them. Although Deirdre had pitched it as Lydia’s party and Lydia’s crowd, it was Deirdre who had found the fairy ring - Lydia had no idea where it was. Deirdre had to lead them there. 

Emma seemed excited, all hidden the best she could under a stubborn wall. And in the same way, Deirdre felt guilty for what would come, hidden under walls she covered better. She hadn’t expected to feel this poorly about some mischief, but there she was, nearly shaking with reluctance. Was it stronger to swallow this feeling? Or to admit it, end the night, apologize to Lydia and move on? To quell the feeling, she reached out and looped her arm around Emma’s, though the hooks had been set and the promise made, she maintained the act of reeling the woman in--in some way, as an apology for what would come. With her feigned excitement, she led the way for the three of them, out of the well-lit bars, into dimmer streets, then where the forest began. All the while, she made sure to ask Emma questions about herself---superficial at best, lest she dare feel even worse than she already did---and boast about their upcoming party. “It’s just over here, I think?” She led them into the clearing, giddy from the nearby mushrooms, “oh shoot! Did I get us lost again?” She laughed, unable to help herself. The mushrooms were right there. And some part of her, that still maintained any bit of sense, thought it might be good to pretend like they were lost instead of the party not existing. “I swear it was by the mushroom-shaped tree around the mushroom bush into the mushroom?” Deirdre quivered with excitement. Emma looked between the two of them, smiling still from their previous conversation. “Oh, that’s cool, I can just look it up how to get back on my phone and---” As Emma tried to explain, Deirdre reached out and swatted the phone down to the ground, screeching. “Mushro--I mean, spider! Oh, sorry, I thought there was a spider on your phone.” To Lydia, she gestured with her head to the fairy ring, hidden by some long grass. 

Lydia chimed in on the conversation occasionally, with small delicate tidbits or questions to supplement Deirdre’s. The closer they got to the mushrooms, the more Lydia’s inside felt like champagne. Light and fizzy and delicate, sweet and soothing. If she listened carefully, she could already feel that silent, magical music, thrumming through her in complete harmony. Her black dress felt itchy, her boots to encumbering. Lydia wanted to feel mulch and worms beneath her toes, to spread her wings and glow. The moon was just right too. Deirdre smacked the phone out of Emma’s hand, and Lydia made a show of typing something into google on hers before Emma picked her up again. “I’ve got it! Lydia called, holding up her own phone. “This way,” Lydia called, her voice like bells as she pulled Emma deeper into the woods. One, two, three - Lydia nearly moaned as they stepped inside the fairy ring, the magic pure excstacy, “We’re here!”

“I… don’t see a party,” Emma said, looking uncertainly at Deirdre once again, Lydia noticed. And again. Humans were not subtle with their favourites. Lydia laughed.

“Don’t you? Can’t you hear the mushroom music? See all our friends below?” There were gnomes in the circles too, that Lydia pointed to, already kicking off one shoe. “We’re going to have so much fun my dear,” she promised, and smiled against Emma’s cheek, eerily close. ‘Now, my dear, dance for me here.”

Something felt bad in the pit of Deirdre's stomach, like she ate spoiled yogurt. Something about the mushrooms didn't seem right, and with the last of her sense, she opened her mouth to apologize or stop this or—"MUSHROOOOMS!!" she jumped up and down on Emma's phone, cracking the screen before she skipped over to Lydia and joined in the glorious mushroom song. She found the ring with ease, stepping in and feeling all at once the only thing that ever mattered: mushrooms. Here, nothing was wrong. Nothing was ever wrong with mushrooms. "You can't have all the fun without me!" Deirdre laughed giddily, bouncing from one foot to the other. Deirdre kicked her shoes off, peeling off her top with another fluid motion (mushrooms were always better enjoyed in the nude). Emma, on the other hand, was filled with less glee. She moved to dance clunkily, almost as if she didn't want to. "No, No!" Deirdre groaned, grabbing Emma's hands. "You humans dance all bad! Like this!" She demonstrated, pulling her this way or that, light on her feet and expert enough to avoid crushing any gnomes. "These are our friends! Play us some music, Emma!" Emma's eyes grew wide as her lips pursed, she tried to whistle a song, maintaining her pathetic dance routine, but the sound kept cracking as she sobbed silently. "Okay, no more music; your music is sad. You're supposed to be happy! Lydia, why isn't she happy? Is it because she's human?" She turned to her friend, who understood the joy of mushrooms just as she did. 

The first boot off, Lydia quickly kicked it out of the ring, and into the dark. The rhythm thrumed through her, and she laughed at Deirdre, with Deirdre, dancing to the rhythm of the music as she kicked off her next boot. Slide her arms down the length of her body, like she might for a lover, to ruck up her dress and pull it over her head. She giggled, left just in  bra and her underwear as she watched Deirdre pull the human into dance, tried to get her to make the music. “Oh my god, she can’t sing or dance? What kind of fucking human did we pick up. Next time, we’ve gotta pick up a group. Still, I guess we can figure something out.” Emma sobbed, and Lydia smiled as she wiped those ugly tears away. “Don’t cry.” Emma stopped with a strangled gulp, her eyes widening and drying up at once. “Ugh, what a fucking eyesore. C’mon, let’s find you something to do to entertain us. Can you juggle?” Emma shook her head. “Can you try?” A small nod. “Sweet. Here, try with these!” Lydia grinned again, picking up some very conveniently sharp rocks. 

Deirdre tried to pull off her pants, but they were too tight. Why were her pants so tight? And why couldn't she disrobe and dance at the same time? And why did the mushroom music sound like bones being tapped together when there were no bones? Why were there no bones? These questions plagued Deirdre's mind. So she hopped from one foot to the other in her bra and leather pants, insecure about her abundance of clothing. She would have shed the bra if it didn't mean she couldn't wav her arms to the mushroom beat. And then there was Emma, poor, sweet disgustingly human Emma. She tried to juggle, but she was so bad at it. Just like she was bad at dancing and whistling and she was trying so hard not to cry that her face was ugly red and blotchy. She dropped a rock on her foot, wiched and picked it up to juggle again. She dropped it again. Picked it up. Dropped it. Cut her finger on the sharp edge of one of the rocks, spilling blood into their fairy ring. She bit her lip and tried to juggle again. She wanted to cry so badly that she was blubbering now, but her tears wouldn't come. Her cut seemed to grow wider, the rocks were stained with blood as she tossed them around in a mockery of juggling. Deirdre dropped her hands, she didn't like this. The mushrooms didn't like this. "Stop that," she commanded, and Emma dropped her rocks to the floor, causing gnomes to scramble away. She picked up her shirt and wrapped it around Emma's bleeding finger. "Lydia," she whined, "I don't like this human. She makes me feel bad. Like bad on the inside. I can't enjoy the dancing like this! We should have went with the group. Should we get rid of her? I-I'm so sorry, Lydia. I'm so bad at doing things. I'm so sorry. I wanna be good. I try to be good. Why isn't this fun for me? Do I need—maybe I need to be more naked." And now she was crying as she blabbered on. 

Lydia, on the other hand, couldn’t stop laughing, throwing a leaf or twig at Emma every time she dropped it with an inelegant woop. The blood didn’t bother her, humans bled so very easily, and cried and whined and whimpered so very easily.  They always did at these things, unless you kissed them or drugged them, or were just really, really not very risk aware at all, which was common in humans too. She thrust her hips and swung her arms in a wave like shape, the traditional Leanan summer dance. When she glanced at Deirdre through, her movements slowed, and she stepped over her bra to the banshee in some concern. Her leaves mulched between her toes as she walked over to Deirdre, bandaging the human up and stopping it like that. “Oh for fuck’s sake, Deirdre, we can’t go back for the group now. Is it because she’s sad? They’re freaking always sad, Deirdre, they don’t want to be here. That’s half the fun, they’re prey! Is this because of Morgan? Do you want me to take off your bra to make you feel better?”

"Well, I know that but..." Deirdre trailed off, blinking, waiting for Lydia to understand it. "I wish Morgan was here," she mumbled. Things were better with Morgan; she would explain why she was sad, she would understand. Deirdre wished she was dancing the mushroom tune with her. But she wasn't. She was here with Lydia and sad, un-fun Emma. "I don't want them to be sad! It ruins the mushrooms!" Morgan would get it. Deirdre frowned, looking between Emma and her pleading eyes and Lydia and her steady ones. "You're right. I'm just not naked enough for this. Can you take my bra off? I can't reach it right." And her pants too, but she wasn't going to push her luck and ask for that. She spared one last look at sad Emma. "Smile, Emma! Be happy!" She told her, and Emma's red face sported a wide but thin and unnatural smile. "There! See! All better! The mushrooms are pleased! You're so smart, Lydia." 

All the air rushed out of Lydia. The fairy ring cloud was thick in her mind, but now she wasn’t floating above it in a giddy rush so much as stuck beneath it, wondering where the sun had gone. She looked down at the gnomes, swaying and dancing between their ankles. The odd one looked up and gave them a sharp look, as if telling to get with the program. She smiled, snaking her arms around Deirdre to catch the clasp and unfasten it, pulling the straps down Deirdre’s arms and letting that fall to the ground too. “Yeppers, great. Now she’s all happy, so you can take her home and woo her and fall in love with her and adopt a cat with her.” Lydia turned away, her elytra raising sharply, her skin glowing harsh gold under the moonlight. “All I want to do is celebrate not being stuck to someone anymore and all you want is to be back with your barely non-human girlfriend. In a fairy ring! That kinda sucks, Deirdre! Ugh. Let’s just send her into the woods to be eaten by an alghoul and dance, okay? I said, don’t cry!” That was directed at Emma, who had sniffled around her strangely twisted mouth. 

Nudity had finally been achieved...well, half-achieved, as her stubborn, tight pants remained. But Deirdre could work with this now. And Emma was smiling, and everything was okay if she just didn’t look too hard or think too hard or focus on anything that wasn’t dancing. Everything was the way it should be in a fairy ring! Happy and naked and--- “Lydia?” Deirdre reached out for her friend, a hand hovering above her shoulder--pausing as she regarded the wings. “I don’t wanna do any of that. I wanna dance with you.” But it was hard to dance when Lydia wasn’t looking at her. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “I won’t talk about Morgan anymore.” Even though, among bones and mushrooms, Morgan was the only thing she really wanted to talk about it. And she couldn’t understand what was wrong. Did Lydia want to adopt a cat with her too? “Let’s dance! Let’s dance!” She reached for her hand, trying to rope her back into some dancing. “You’re so pretty, Lydia. You’re the most beautiful woman---” second to Morgan, and herself, and that mushroom over there and that skeleton she saw a few days ago. “---you have wings! You’re so cool! I look like a stupid human. I look like an Emma!” She gestured to their dumb, useless entertainment meat sack. “I’m sorry I wasn’t dancing. I’m dancing now! Emma, turn around so I can’t look at you.” And Emma did, just as Deirdre tactfully avoided the idea of killing her. Something about that didn’t vibe with the mushrooms, deep inside. “Do you want a cat, Lydia?”

“Hmph!” Lydia replied. “Don’t say things that can be turned into promises you can’t keep. It’s not that you’re even talking about your girlfriend. Its- whatever. Whatever!” Lydia threw her hands up in the air, but turned when Deirdre reached for her hand, into the touch. She didn’t immediately begin to dance, she didn’t want to, not when Deirdre would rather have a zombie in the ring than her, not when she saw the signs of - Lydia swallowed. Nope. Nep. Níl. This was fairy ring magic soaking into her bones, she could let go of such worries. Especially with Deirdre feeding right into her vanity like this, filling her heart with butterflies. “Darling, you never look stupid. I’ve seen your eyes go black and all death predicty, and you’re more beautiful than any of them could ever be.” So why would you date one? Lydia bit the inside of her cheek hard to hold that question back. “No. My pets are already a handful. But you know, I met Beans the other day, he was a real cutie.” She couldn’t help it - the desire to bubble up again was overreaching. Mushrooms broke things down, but brought life too, and it overflowed in her despite the sting she couldn’t repress in the moment. She let Deirdre pull her into dance, squeezing her hand briefly. Lydia spun and turned to Emma, already over the slight from the moment before. “Hey, can you-” No, Deirdre didn’t want that. Lydia rolled her eyes, and turned her attention back to the dance. Waste of a good human. 

“Please don’t make me promise to stop talking about my girlfriend! I like my girlfriend. I like talking about her. She dances really good by the way, and--” Deirdre trailed off, embarrassed. For some reason (Deirdre suspected cat jealousy), Lydia didn’t like hearing about Morgan. Or was it...did Lydia not like Morgan? “Do you have a problem with my girlfriend? ‘Cause you’re being a real H-word right now.” The H-word being human, naturally. “Which means like, you’re confusing me. If you have something to say, you should say it! The mushrooms would want that.” And though this was supposed to be some confessional moment, Deirdre continued her dancing. There was no greater balm for the soul than the mushroom music, after all. “No, you’re really pretty! Like the prettiest! You’re my favorite fae in town. The rest are all so...not cool like you. I love you, and mushrooms, and bones, and pie and---Not you, Emma! I said turn around!” She paused, “we’re doing sooo much talking and not enough dancing, I feel.” Which clearly meant they needed more dancing, and more and more and...what was that? “What?” She giggled her curiosity to Lydia, “what did you want Emma to do?“

“I’m not, obviously, but if you weren’t going to you shouldn’t have said you would!” Lydia retorted. The opportunity to make it a promise would have been as easy as catching a fly in a fridge, but she watched it sail past all the same, until it was much too late to do anything, like any good friend would. The next words out of Deirdre’s mouth made Lydia’s nose flare, her wings flashing brightly and aggressively. “I’M AN H WORD? You’re the one who won’t let me have fun with the human RIGHT here! You’re the one who fell in love with a human! You’re the one who let me find that out from your girlfriend instead of you! We’re standing in a FUCKING FAIRY RING, which are so rare this time of year we probably won’t see another until August, and all you want is to be with your zombie girlfriend! I don’t have a problem with her, I have a problem with you!” Lydia stomped her foot, squelching on some kind of decaying fruit or dead animal remains or probably even human remains in a place like this. She bopped her chest and spun in the music of the mushrooms, and yep, the gnomes were definitely judging them now. “You just told me to say what I feel! I was happy being a fae in a fairy circle, make the human pull out her own hair lock by lock, or dance until she inevitable collapsed of exhaustion and then make her dance more anyway or see whether she can climb a tree without breaking her neck but if you don’t want to see her cry then we won’t freaking do any of that!”

Deirdre crumpled, taking each sentence Lydia flung at her with a wince and a whimper. This was not the mushroom vibe. “I just---” She deflated, curling into herself. “I just wanted to spend time with you, and do something fun. I know you didn’t like people attached to Simon, and I want to get to know you better because you’ve been such a good friend and I just wanna dance naked and--” she sniffled. “It’s weird for me. Humans used to not be people but now they kind of feel like people and I don’t like it and Emma cries really ugly and I don’t want to look at it but I also want to spend time with you and have fun and I want you to have fun and---” she blubbered on, catching a glimpse of the gnomes below, scowling at them the way gnomes did. “Of course I wish Morgan was here, I always wish she was. I like spending time with her. She doesn’t make me feel---” scared, but the word caught in her throat. It wasn’t Lydia’s fault Deirdre was terrified, and she did like spending time with the other fae. But she couldn’t help that something in her had changed, and whatever that was, it was making something about this whole affair very unpleasant. But Lydia’s problem was with her. She was the problem. She didn’t like that. She didn’t like being problems. The desire for approval flared deep within her, and she pulled a knife from her boot and sunk it easily into Emma’s shoulder---garnering a yelp and cry. “We can play with her! I’m sorry. I’ll be good! We can play! Emma, turn around and dance, and don’t say a word unless spoken to.” And Emma, the dutiful entertainment source, did as commanded. 

In normal circumstances, Lydia would have regretted the words the moment the words left her mouth. Normally, she would have never been so extremely honest. Watching Deirdre crumple into herself, shrinking up the way Simon had, made Lydia’s heart ache. Her small hands had curled into fists, hurt and stung by being called the worst thing you could be. People slang words like murderer and evil and manipulative at her from time to time, but no one had ever accused her of being human. No one ever could, not with how she dealt with her diet. “Humans always feel like people. They think like people, too. That doesn’t change what they are, ever.” Her voice was quieter, but still simmering with heat in it. “No shit you like spending time with her, you love her, but this is fae. This belongs to us, no other species! She makes you feel what?” Deirdre bent down as Lydia swivelled her hips in rhythm, her eyes widening when she saw the glint of sharpened metal, reflecting in gold glow. She gasped as Deirdre thrust it into Emma’s shoulder, covering her mouth. A giggle surprised her, followed by another and another, until she was laughing at the sad human’s pain, the grief look of betrayal in Emma’s eyes. Oh, she’d hoped that Deirdre was a nice one. Poor lost Emma. Lydia laughed and took Deirdre’s hands, ignoring the blood, and pulled her into a twisting, spinning dance. Emma didn’t speak, as she… did the Macarena, but the longer she danced, the more her top stuck to her skin and grew shiny as blood trickled out of the wound, worsened by every move of her arm. Her face grew even paler, her movements becoming sluggish. The injured arm dropped to her side, even as Lydia tasked. “Dance faster, girl.”

“But if you think they’re people, how can you---” Deirdre frowned, though she left the topic where it laid. She was too high for this. Too focused on being naked and dancing. She knew the logic well. Humans were inferior, inherently. And they lacked the innocent, simple minds of the animals. And so, they were okay to torture and degrade. Fae were superior, in all regards. But she’d loved a human as her equal, and in doing so, cursed herself with the thought that more humans could be seen that way---even if Morgan was just special. She hadn’t pieced it together completely, and she certainly wasn’t going to try when the mushrooms were singing. “I want to share fae things with her too,” she mumbled, though her words were lost under Lydia’s laughter. That was good, she was laughing. All was forgotten. Deirdre kept her eyes away from the human, laughing along into her spin and dance. Emma struggled, though forced to dance fast, her movements were clunky like a puppet’s strings being haphazardly tossed around. Deirdre couldn’t watch, but didn’t want Lydia to see her remorseful, and so she kept her eyes on the grass under Emma. But these weren’t fae things, she wanted to say, these weren’t the things she wanted to share with Morgan. They were just...cruel. Was this all fae were? The mushroom song seemed to ebb and flow as her mind resisted what was happening around her. For the sake of her sanity, she focused on dancing. Dancing was fun. “Sorry I said you were acting like an H-word, Lydia. I didn’t mean it!” She said, happily enough. “I was just a little sad you weren’t being honest with me. Friends should be honest, right?” Spoken by the liar, as she danced and ignored the pained human. “But we should have fun! Are you having fun now?” Would conversation distract Lydia from torturing Emma? Would it save her pathetic, inherently inferior, human life? 

“I don’t think they’re people. They aren’t.” Lydia replied curtly. Fortunately, all that dissipated with Deirdre in her arms. Even if she was still in those cursed leather jeans which… did make her ass look great, sure, but Lydia was a betting woman. Deirdre’s ass would look great regardless. She spun Deirdre under her arms, shimmying her chest and beating her wings to the beat. Her elytra moved too, an intricate dance only those with beetle like wings could do. God, she was proud of her wings, especially glowing under the moonlight. Unlike Deirdre, she watched Emma keenly, grinning at the absurd obscenity of it all. She wouldn’t have stabbed the girl, far too gross for her liking, but it did add a delightfully macabre element to it, didn’t it? “Friends should be honest, but you weren’t being honest with me, either.” Lydia didn’t point out that she still wasn’t being honest, that Lydia could see how Deirdre turned her head away from Emma, over and over and over. With the mushrooms on her mind, though, Lydia couldn’t bring herself to care, giggling once more as Emma stumbled. And the She fell, clutching her shoulder, her face contorted in fresh waves of pain, but even on the floor, she wriggled like a worm, her body determined to dance even as her strength was failing. “Oh no, I think you broke her.” Lydia said with a laugh.

They were like people, right. Deirdre hid another frown. She had hoped, maybe, that Lydia would see it the way she did. How did she begin to reconcile these things together? And did it matter, in the face of mushrooms? Probably not. And how could they when Lydia looked radiant? “You’re beautiful,” she gasped and then giggled, watching her wings with awe, tinged by envy. She wanted to touch them. She lifted her hand and opened her mouth to ask when Emma fell over. That was bad, right? That was probably bad. But if she went over there, Lydia wouldn’t think she was cool, and that was worse, right? Her morals lost their legs under the mushroom’s influence, she tried to make some part of her stand, but all that was left was the girl who craved to be the kind of fae that Lydia was. But--- “No! She can’t do that! We have to get her to promise not to say anything first!” Deirdre shimmied to her, falling to the floor beside her and groping around for some discarded clothing. She could not remember how medical care worked in her state, but she knew blood was bad. Immobility was bad. “Emma? Stop dancing, Emma.” She couldn’t help while she was writhing. “Listen to the mushrooms, Emma. You need to stay awake to dance and entertain us.” And live, and go home, and pretend like none of this had happened. Deirdre pulled the knife out of her, quickly pressing the discarded shirt to the gushing wound. “What are the promises, Lydia?” She turned to the other fae, “what do we usually make them say? No telling anyone about what happened? No talking about who we are or what we look like? No--D-do we make her forget?” 

Lydia rolled her eyes as Deirdre’s will gave, and she watched her friend rush over to help the writhing, wriggling human. No matter, the mushrooms called and Lydia was more than thrilled to solo with the tiny gnomes. These dances were as old as time itself, which was why she grunted as she jumped from leg to leg, raising each knee to her chest and simultaneously clapping her hands against her other knee. But she stilled with a sigh as Deirdre called to her.  Lydia knelt in the decomposing leaves, her hand cupping Emma’s face. The true terror there wasn’t as fun without another fae to share. “I don’t have the magic to make her forget. Oh well. I’ll do this, you focus on her shoulder. Hey, Emma, pet, you did so well. Would you prefer it if we killed you now, or got you back to town?” Without realising, Lydia had turned to the soft lilting way she spoke to her own humans at some times, gently smoothing down Emma’s blue hair as she smiled at the human. “Darling, I can’t hear you. A little louder, please.”

“T-town.”

“Oh, there we go, that wasn’t so hard, was it. And all we need is three little promises.” Lydia gently wiped the grime off her face, wiping away those nearly dried tears. “Can you do that for me?” A small nod. “I want you to promise that you’ll never tell anyone anything that happened tonight.” 

“I promise.”

“I want you to promise that you’ll never describe Deirdre nor I to anyone in any way, not even via drawing, nor reveal our whereabouts, or indicate anything about us to anyone”

“I-I promise.”

“There. Last one, and this is the hardest. We have complete control of you for the rest of the week if we want it, you know. So what I really want you to do? Is continue as if nothing happened. Go to class, church, book club, whatever it is you usually. Do. Go home like you would after a night in the club, and sleep it off. Do you promise that?” 

Emma groaned in pain, and met Lydia’s eyes for the first time that night. They were an unyielding blue. As impersonal as a statue. “Y-Yes.”

Lydia pat Emma’s hair. “Good girl. Try and stand up, and we’ll walk you back. Right, Deirdre?”

How was Lydia so collected right now? The more Deirdre looked at Emma, the more her head started to swirl into a mushroom. Her foot began to tap a rhythm nervously as Lydia went on. She couldn’t focus, she didn’t want to focus. She wanted to be home, where things were gentle. “You don’t have to---” she croaked, though her sentence did not end. If only she had more sense, she could focus on getting the promises out so Lydia wouldn’t have to. She wanted to have fun, this wasn’t fun. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, her apology directed at both women. “No!” She stood up abruptly, “no, we have to dance! I’m going to make this fun for you! She can walk back, and if she dies on the way, who cares, right? I wanna dance with you. I wanna have fun with you. You’re my friend. She’s not. I don’t want to walk her anywhere!” She pouted, crossing her arms over her bare chest. “It’s dance time! That’s what the mushrooms want.”

It was a relief to hear Deirdre’s protest, that the night wasn’t completely lost. That they wouldn’t have to leave these fine pastures for Deirdre’s bleeding heart. Lydia stood, and so did Emma, clutching at her shoulder. “You heard her, it’s that way, roughly. Don’t follow any dancing light and it you hear something growl, run. Have fun.” Lydia replied with a sharp smile. Emma stared at Deirdre, her lip wobbling. “Now.” As if dragged on a lead, Emma turned and walked away. No, as Lydia watched her, walking was far too generous a word. She stumbled and yelled as she tripped on a branch here, but staggered back up, swaying as she moved forward. Lydia grew bored quickly of watching. Despite all her moods this evening, one was universal. Lydia turned back to Deirdre with a broad smile. “C’mon. It’s time to get you out of those leather pants.”

[mycupoffanfiction]

His Second Chance Part 13

Bucky x Reader

His Second Chance Masterlist

Bucky comes back from Wakanda with Steve, ready to begin his recovery from his days as the Winter Soldier, but there’s one thing he doesn’t take into account - you.

Warnings: Fluff, mentions of sex in conversation, scars, feeling self-conscious, language, mentions of past torture and pain.

Word count: Approx 2700

Masterlist

Bucky pushes himself to talk openly about an insecurity.

Please don’t hesitate to leave suggestions or thoughts! TAG LISTS ARE OPEN! (Permanent list and His Second Chance list)

IF YOUR TAG ISN’T WORKING PLS MESSAGE OR ASK 💖💖

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“Mhm and Steve is really in love with Nat.” You giggled, laying on your stomach on your bed as Bucky twirled around on your computer chair. “He so is, did ya see the way he looked at her earlier?” Bucky grinned, stopping the chair from spinning so he could look at you. “I know, pretty sure that’s why he was so angsty about us getting together.” You smirked, rolling over onto your back, head hanging down over the edge as you looked over at Bucky. A sweet, soft smile spread across his lips as he watched you. How is she mine? She’s so cute. “He should ask her out.” Bucky concluded. “He won’t though, he’ll keep bein’ angsty about it until Nat flies off the handle at him about it.” You giggled. “He might be Captain, but he’s not as brave as you, Bucky.” You looked him in the eyes, a gentle, soft gaze.

How does she do that? How does she just melt my heart like that?

Bucky got up from your computer seat, a little dizzy from spinning, causing him to stumble across to your bed. He flopped down next to you before moving to hover above you, a lazy lopsided grin on his lips as you lifted your head to look at him. You slid back onto the bed properly, cheeks heating up as Bucky lowered himself over you, chestnut hair falling out from behind his ear as he approached. He lowered himself onto his forearms, his hair tickling your cheek, hot breath fanning across your skin. His lips brushed yours, Bucky’s calloused hand gently stroking your cheek as he captured your lips in a heart stopping kiss.

Bucky had gained more confidence recently and it certainly hadn’t gone unnoticed by you. It was especially after Bucky’s recent therapy appointment, his confidence just seemed to peak after that. Little did you know that Bucky’s confidence wasn’t just coming from his therapy sessions, the same day he’d had a little chat with Sam.

***

“How do I get more confident with her Sam?” Bucky had asked, chewing his lip as the pair of them ate breakfast. “Wanna kiss her more, have more confidence to uh- do things.” Bucky had resorted to asking Sam, feeling that he was the best guy he knew in terms of confidence. While Steve was confident about most things, he certainly was not so confident about relationships. “Oh you wanna do things, huh? We talkin’ like fondue? Actually I’m not sure I wanna know what you want to do with her.” Sam chuckled. Why does everyone call sex fondue around here? Is that a twenty first century thing?

  “But uh.” He paused, shovelling fruit in his mouth and chewing. “What you have to do.” He spoke through a mouthful, Bucky looking rather unimpressed by his behaviour. Sam swallowed down his fruit before speaking again, seeing the grossed out look on Bucky’s face. “You love her right? Don’t let those stupid voices hold you back. If you’re both ready for new things, try it. She’d tell you to stop if she knew it wasn’t right. Talk about it with her, set some boundaries, communicate with her.” Sam pointed with his spoon. “Can’t do anything until you talk to her about it. You’ll feel better about it when you do, trust me.” Sam smiled. For someone who relentlessly teased Bucky, Sam was always willing to give genuine advice where he could. Despite ‘I hate you’s and telling each other to shut up, Sam was becoming quite attached to Bucky.

***

Bucky broke the kiss, leaning back and hovering above you again, his lazy grin coming back onto his lips. Gotta do it, Sam said you’d feel better if you spoke about it. “Doll, I gotta ask you something.” You smiled, looking at him as you reached up to brush his hair behind his ears again. Bucky leaned into your touch, a soft hum vibrating through his throat as he closed his eyes. Just get it out, she’ll understand. “I want to take things further, doll. Want to love you more.” Bucky wasn’t even sure if he was making sense. “I um- how would you feel if we started… Doing more serious things?” Bucky asked. “Like what Buck?” You asked, smile still on your lips, cheeks painted with a soft blush, hair tossed about on the bed above you, a few strands laying across your forehead messily. “Like um.” He paused, tugging his lip between his teeth as he thought about it. “I want to- uh.” Stop cutting yourself off, come on, you were getting so good with your confidence, you can do it Barnes. “Try new things.” He diverted. You smirked, you knew what he really wanted to say, but he was too nervous to admit it.

“Do you mean you want to make things more intimate?” You asked, eyes half lidded. Yes. “No.” Yes, you idiot. “Oh.” You sounded a bit disappointed. “Sorry, doll, I meant yes.” Bucky sighed. “Still not got yes or no questions down.” Bucky chuckled, making you giggle. “I just- I wanted you to know but I don’t want to just dive right in, I don’t think I can do that.” Bucky explained. “I want to do more with you, but slowly, doll.” Bucky spoke softly. You nodded, a sweet smile playing on your lips. “You set the pace Bucky, and I’ll follow.” You grinned, leaning up to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. Not sure I can take it slow, I kinda just want to be with her, I should go slow though, right?

“How do you want to approach it?” You asked, genuinely curious. “Uh, I’m not sure, don’t even know where I’d start.” Bucky sighed. I just know I really want you to call me Sergeant again because oh god- it makes me so- Yep, okay, calm down. “Well, when you’re ready Bucky, we can try something. We don’t even have to do anything beyond seeing each other naked if you want. Whatever you’re comfortable with.” You smiled. Oh I’d love to go beyond seeing her naked. Shit what if she thinks you look terrible naked? This damn arm looks awful, the skin is all fucked.

“What do you say Sergeant?” You asked innocently, not even knowing what your name for Bucky did to him. “We can always try something else if you’re not comfortable.” You reaffirmed that there was no pressure.

You know she won’t judge you; she thinks you’re handsome, told you she loves you, loves your arm.

What if she doesn’t feel the same when you’re naked? She wouldn’t, she sees past that, you know she does, Barnes. You’re an idiot for doubting her.

“Thank you, pretty girl. You’re too good to me.” Bucky looked at you, dreamy eyed, like you were a cloudy vision, like you were too good to be real. “Not too good, Buck, just right.”

“How was therapy?” Steve asked, his eyes on Bucky as he greeted you with a long, gentle hug. You and Bucky had just come home from the usual therapy session and coffee. “It was good, think I’m progressing well.” Bucky smiled. You parted from Steve, throwing a sweet smile at Bucky before turning and leaving. You were so proud of him; his progress was impeccable and he was opening up so much to you. He was getting better at speaking full sentences, only cutting himself off when he was really nervous or unsure and you noticed a change in the way he approached things. He no longer paused to contemplate, fighting with the voices in his head and if he did, it was only for a few seconds at a time.

“How are things with her?” Steve asked, looking in the direction you’d gone. “Honestly,” Bucky paused, a bashful smile curving on his lips. “Amazing, she’s too good for me, Steve. I don’t deserve her, but somethin’ about me made her fall in love and m’not sure what.” He sighed, leaning up against the kitchen island. “You deserve her, Buck. You absolutely deserve happiness like that.” Steve encouraged, bumping Bucky’s shoulder gently with his fist. “It makes me so happy to see you so in love, Buck.” Steve grinned widely. “And I’m happy she found you, you really helped bring her out of her shell.” Steve clapped the back of his shoulder. I did? Maybe we’re good for each other then, and not just her being good for me. “Never thought of it like that.” Bucky sat down on the stool at the island. “You’re good for each other.” Steve reaffirmed.

“Uh, Stevie.” Bucky broke the comfortable silence in the kitchen. He hummed in response, looking up from his phone at Bucky. “You have a lot of scars, right?” He asked. “Mhm, why?” Steve nodded, locking his phone and putting it away. “You used any of those things to make them look less…” Bucky paused to think. “Bucky, is this about your arm?” Steve interrupted, stepping forwards, hand coming down on his shoulder. “Uh.” He stammered, looking away from his eyes. Fuck, now he’s probably going to dad lecture you on how you should accept yourself or something.

“M’nervous about being, y’know, shirtless or whatever.” Bucky looked away. “Oh, you wanna fondue and you’re self-conscious.” Steve smirked. “No- I’d be self-conscious if I called sex fondue, Steve.” Bucky frowned. “What is it? You learn that from the Peter kid or something?” Bucky asked, Steve collapsing into laughter. “No, no, god.” He chuckled. “It’s a Steve-ism as Sam would say.” Steve grinned widely, stifling his laughter. “A… Steve-ism?” Bucky snorted. The fuck is a Steve-ism? “Yeah, yeah, anyway,” Steve giggled to himself for a moment before composing himself. “You want some of the stuff we use? It makes the scares appear less red.” Steve explained, waving him to follow.

You had heard Steve’s laughter and poked your head out of the door of your room, silently watching as Steve handed Bucky a tub of cocoa butter. After what you’d overheard them talk about, you felt a little ache in your heart for Bucky, feeling like his scares weren’t acceptable as they were, that it made him uncomfortable. Without even thinking, you found yourself at his door, knocking and waiting.

“Hey, pretty girl.” Bucky greeted you with a lopsided smile. “Hey Sergeant.” You smirked. “Can we talk?” You asked. Bucky moved to let you enter and you walked into his room, stopping in the middle and turning to face him. “I heard you and Steve talking.” You avoided eye contact; afraid you were overstepping. Oh no, she looks disappointed, did I do something wrong? I hope I didn’t do anything wrong. “I know you’re just going through the motions and Stevie is just trying to help, but,” You paused, taking a deep breath. “I don’t care if you have loads of scars, Bucky.” You reached out and touched his metal arm. “I love you. I think you are handsome. I think you’re smart and strong and brave. Seeing you without a shirt wouldn’t change the way I feel.” You say matter-of-factly. Bucky was stunned for a moment as he took in your words, his heart warming. “I know it’s not the same, but I have scars too, I have things I hate about myself.” You lowered your voice to just above a whisper. “I have a huge mark from being experimented on, scars from being hurt, tortured, attacked and burned. It might not look the same, but I have scars too.” You almost welled up with tears as you spoke.

Bucky looked down at the tub of cocoa butter. “I’m not telling you not to use it, Buck. I just don’t want you to use it because you think I’ll like it better if you do.” You concluded, ready for the floor to just swallow you up already. She cares so much, she’s so sweet. You looked around awkwardly before shuffling to the door. You felt awful, like you’d massively overstepped, said your piece where it wasn’t wanted, where you thought it wasn’t wanted. But you couldn’t be further from the truth. “Sorry, I’ll just- that wasn’t really my place.” You huffed, but Bucky grabbed your wrist before you could reach the door. A soft smile curving on his lips as he gently tugged you over to him, the tub of cocoa butter being thrown onto the bed half-heartedly.

“You’re so damn sweet, doll.” Bucky murmured. “So sweet to me.” He smiled. “I want you to feel loved.” You whispered. “I do, I do feel loved, pretty girl.” Bucky broke out into a grin, pulling you against his chest. “I love you.” You mumbled into his shoulder, making Bucky chuckle a little. “I love you too, doll.” Bucky kissed the top of your head, lips lingering for a few seconds.

“Can I see, darlin’? Where they hurt you?” Bucky asked, hand lingering over your left shoulder. You nodded, moving to pull off your jumper. You positioned your arm at the right angle for him to see the bright red raised patch on the inside of your arm. It was a different texture from the rest of your skin and spread a few inches wide where the serum had initially burned you. “Oh pretty girl.” He whispered. “M’sorry they did that to you.” Bucky gave you a sad smile, tears welling up in his eyes as he looked down at the harsh scar. “Can I see?” You asked, looking up at him. Without a single bit of hesitation, Bucky nodded and pulled his shirt off, leaving his chest bare for you to see.

Your eyes looked on at the marred skin where metal met flesh. Ugly, monstrous, disgusting, Bucky had thought to himself each time he looked in the mirror. But not you. You saw the pain he went through, but you also saw the man he became afterwards. You had no words, no sweet assurances as your delicate fingers trailed over the angry marks that had been left. Your feather light touch almost startled Bucky, the last time anyone had touched him there was to cause him pain, but he forced himself to remain still, to take a deep breath because he knew you were gentle and he trusted you.

“Does it hurt?” You asked when you saw him flinch. “No, just sensitive.” He shook his head. You reached forwards, slowly pressing your lips against his scars. Oh my- didn’t expect that. Did not expect that. Goddammit, she’s so good to you. She loves you how you need to be loved. His scarred flesh was bumpy, raised and a shiny pink. It reminded you of hot glue almost, the texture and strange healing pattern looked similar to a trail left by a hot glue gun. “It doesn’t make you any less human, Bucky.” You whispered against his scar, pressing another kiss to the skin there. Your hot breath tickled slightly. “Doll.” Bucky breathed out. “It doesn’t make you less. It makes you stronger.” You had decided it was your mission to see that Bucky truly felt comfortable and in that moment, he did.

“It hurt so much.” Bucky murmured. “I know, Bucky, I know.” You almost began crying, heart aching for him. They hurt me so much. “They hurt you too, they hurt you and I can’t- how could they hurt you like that?” Bucky whimpered out, cupping your cheeks in his hands. “How could they do that to you?” He whispered. “You’re the sweetest gal, so soft and gentle and they hurt you.” He pulled you up against his chest, tears springing to your eyes when you realised how his concern was only for you rather than for himself.

“They can’t hurt us anymore, Bucky.” You reassured him. “We’re safe now.” You whispered. “You don’t have to worry about them hurting us again.”

I don’t have to worry about them hurting you again.

Bucky was sure of one thing – he’d never let Hydra near either of you and if they tried, he’d protect you with every fibre of his being.

_______________________

Permanent Tag List:

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@socialheartbreak @whatsupbucky @yesno18 @just-a-littlebit-of-everything @crystallstaircase @megantje123 @fantua @lady-x-red@buckys-islandgirl@chipilerendi@butteryoptimisticpeanut@blondecity @dark-night-sky-99 @marvel-ous-bucky@rand0mfangurlstuff @tfandtws@vxidnik @books-baritones-bucky@bluerorjhan @calwitch @hello-keeley @vrgelivvvv@steve-harrington-said-gay-rights @swiftlymoniquesblog @viperslunatic @carol-twinklefists-danvers@stitchers-in-stitches @hungry-pasta @lauraxwndrlnd @supercleverbouquetsoul @isaaclaheygurl

[eatsyou-a]

Fill out the angst application below.

basics

NAME:    douma.

AGE:    400+.  he lost the recollection of his age centuries ago.

SPECIES:   demon.

bold what applies  /  italicize what somewhat applies:

drinker  ;  smoker  ;  done / does drugs  ;  knows what a broken heart feels like  ;  has committed a crime  ;  suffers a physical disability  ;  suffers a mental disorder  ;  has experienced severe trauma .

details

BIGGEST FEAR:     he’s someone who doesn’t think much of what he fears most, and honestly someone who lives for the moment. he’s constantly looking for things to do, anything to ease the boredom, which is the sole reason why he became a demon in the first place.    he believes himself to be unkillable, and so strong to the point where he believes he can overwhelm anyone so well.     he doesn’t even fear death and if the grim reaper would come to visit him, he would just smile and welcome it into his home.     honestly, the thing that would probably scare  (  and excitement him the most  )  is someone being so genuine with him in terms of love and friendship, someone who he can truly relate to.     his whole existence he believes is to be so selfless, but when someone treats him so kindly that even a pure, gentle touch could make someone cry, that’s what scares him in the most. RECURRING NIGHTMARE:     i talked about this previously and since he doesn’t sleep often  (  once or twice a month at most   ), he constantly dreams about his times when he’s 6 and the instant the hat is put on his head, it’s like a spiral.     he has lived through this nightmare so much and so often, he remembers it so well;  however, there are different results each time, so the original nightmare is lost in the mix that his mind has conjured. SOMETHING YOU MISS:     he’s pretty open with how he “feels” and what he’s thinking. although he does love to talk  .  .  .  a lot. so he’ll probably slip some information, it’s just very subtle.    on the same note, he’s also really secretive with his past with how and why he became a demon.    all in all, he’s pretty believable in terms of his lies and excitement and if you’re just looking from the outside, you see that he’s a fucked up monster with disturbing ideas of dedicated and imageries of the gods.    if you have a keen eye, it’s all false and if you point it out he’ll probably kill you.     anything calling out how he doesn’t really feel and the conclusion of no heaven or hell existing is the rite of heavy trauma he’s experienced in an antagonistic environment deems your head getting chopped up.    he doesn’t like being reminded of it. BIGGEST REGRET:     he doesn’t dwell on the past, doesn’t like doing it + it has no relation to the present. there a lot of things he could regret, like admitting to his parents that he’s not really holy to begin with or leaving his cult into a more fulfilling life after his parents died. if you asked him his biggest regret, he would say ‘nothing!’. and sadly, he doesn’t regret anything that he’s done and doesn’t realize it was abusive in the beginning; the true domino effect. A SECRET:     i’ve talked about this before, but he does have a “collection” room aka the skulls he collects from people who leave a lasting impression. such as girls who he thought were so beautiful, the long devoted elderly that finally release themselves to paradise, demon slayers who he stumbles across on those nights out, kotoha  (  she’s treasured among the dozens he keeps and the only skull he deems worthy that rests in the vase that gyokko has given him. he takes really good care of it  ), and his caretaker, chihiro.    no one knows of this room, not even the people who take care of the temple.

pick one:

fire    or     water

mother   or   father

to hurt  or   be hurt

eerie   or    gory

unrequited love   or   no love

[duchessanon]

For the Love of Henri: Tome 5 - Kiss From A Rose

Here's what you missed: https://royalfandombible.blogspot.com/2019/01/for-love-of-henri-my-fanfiction.html

What you missed in summary: Prince Henri married a beautiful pauper girl named Philanthropina (Phily). Together they had baby Libby and adopted Prince George. His evil brother and sister in law were banished from the kingdom for their evil deeds. All was well until Henri decided to bid on Meghan Markle at a charity function. She then bid on the outcast Cambridges. Kate and Meg decided to come together to overthrow Phily.

---

At the footstep of the not £4 million cottage, Henri, Meghan Markle, Willy, Kate and Charlotte stood in anticipation.

Henri put his best stern face on. 'Now I must set some ground rules before we go in. My darling Phily will not be expecting any houseguests. You MUST behave, wear undergarments at all times and not use curse words. All that agree say "aye"'.

Everyone said aye apart from Charlotte who said 'aye aye me bastard'.

Henri gasped in dismay. But Kate, who was keen to impress Henri did the unexpected and disciplined her child.

'Charlotte, wash your mouth out! No Game of Thrones for you tonight'.

'BUSYBODY!!!' Charlotte screamed.

Just then the door of the humble cottage opened and a light so bright emerged. It was so heavenly that it took a moment to notice it was coming from Phily and her cherub of her baby daughter, Libby.

'Speak of the devil and she will come' Willy snickered, and Kate elbowed him in the nethers.

'Henri my love, is everything ok?' she asked sweetly. 'I heard a commotion'.

Phily was dressed the same haggard, brown ensemble she was wearing the day they met. She was not ashamed of her roots as a pauper girl.

'Yes my dear' Henri stuttered, kissing her soiled, hardworking feet. 'We have some visitors'.

Phily was no doubt surprised to see the Cambridges and a random beautiful woman on her door step. But she would never turn anyone away from her door.

'Come in brother, sister and unknown woman', she said selflessly.

During this interaction, Meg had been quietly observing. She needed to be smart if she was going to win over Henri's heart. But every one knew a way to a man's heart is through his nethers, so she touched him on the place she knew to be every man's weak spot - his back.

Henri was startled at the feel someone's hand on his back. No-one did that apart from Phily. But not in a domineering way, in a gentle, supportive way that never implied he was a cuckhold. He knew it could be no one but Meghan Markle. But instead of disgust, Henri felt that uncontrolable nether shudder.

As Phily welcomed the Cambridges, Charlotte greeted her brother George and Libby by rapping Nicki Minaj's 'Monster' while standing on Phily's self made, recycled, environmentally friendly dinner table.

"OK first things first I'll eat your brains Then I'm a start rocking gold teeth and fangs 'cause that's what a motherfucking monster do Hair dresser from Milan that's the monster do

Monster Giuseppe heel, that's the monster shoe

Big Lizzie is the roster and a monster crew

But really, really I don't give a F-U-C-K Forget Georgie, fuck Libby 'cause she's fake She's on a diet but her pockets eating cheese cake And I'll say bride of Chucky is Child's play Just killed another career it's a mild day

Now look at what you just saw This is what you live for Aaaahhh, I'm a motherfucking monster!"

***Musical interlude*** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yTkEpkGKgoY

The next morning Henri explained that their visitors were only there for 5 days as per the rules of the auction. Phily cooked up a sustainable breakfast and to her shock Kate offered to wash everything up.

'They really have changed' Phily said to Henri, who was weaving baskets for the poor with Libby. 'Even William is taking an interest in his son', she smiled in a motherly way.

Willy and George were weaving baskets next to the window, out of earshot.

'I hate this place!' George said sulkily 'they make me go to a pauper school that they dont have to pay for'.

'You dont say', Willy said smirking, his limited cogs turning in his brain. 'They took a school place from a pauper child, did they?'

'Don't even try it Pops. They offset it by building a new wing of the school with their bare hands and that stupid Phily volunteers as a music teacher too.'

'Ass lickers' Willy scowled. He really hoped he could get in touch with all the tabloids and plant negative stories.

Despite this setback, Willy was happy to see that nature had won over nurture and George had demanded to change his name back from Philip, and had not given in to doing any philanthropy.

Over at the kitchen sink, Kate had enlisted help from Meg with the dishes.

'Right bitch, how we gonna get rid that busybody Phily?' Kate said licking a plate clean and handing it to Meg to dry with Phily's wedding dress, which she had mistaken for a dishcloth.

'Well H will be a breeze, when I passed him after I'd taken a dump this morning, I saw him slap his nethers', Meg said sneakily.

Kate cackled, 'today's the day you make your move, I'll distract Phily, you get him to kiss you, George will take a photo and tweet it to Piers Morgan and we're done!'

'How you gonna distract her?' Meg asked.

Kate winked at Meg. At least she tried, but she couldnt wink so she just blinked instead. 'Watch and learn from the master'.

Kate stumbled into the basket weaving area, clutching her stomach, 'oooh ouch owwww ooooh'.

Phily ran over immediately. With her medical degree, she could solve any problem, 'sister, whatever is the matter?'

Just then, Kate pulled up her skirt, revealing a small head. 'I-i-i-i'm giving birth!'

'WHAT THE FUCK!' Charlotte screamed.

Willy stayed where he was and said nonchlantly, 'you're preggers again?'

'What does it look like dipshit! Sorry Phily I dont mean to curse, it's just painful you know?'

Phily tried to understand, but in reality pain during childbirth is the one thing on earth she couldnt relate to, for hers was pain free.

Ushering Kate onto the handmade couch, Phily went into full midwife mode, sending Henri to get warm towels.

Kate blinked as a signal to Meg and she followed him up the ricketty staircase.

At the towel cupboard upstairs, Meg began to sob.

'Oh dear, Meghan, what be the matter?!' Henri asked with a genuine concern that his brother could never muster.

Meg sniffed, pulling out her best acting skills, 'oh it's just so emotional seeing new life coming into the world'

'There there' said Henri, patting her on the arm.

'Oh H!' she wailed, falling into his arms. She puckered up her lips and launched at his mouth. But before she could land the kiss, Henri turned his cheek.

Around the corner, George snapped the photo using a camera he'd stolen from 'that cry baby' photographer Garther Tedwards.

Although Henri's nethers were now beating like the Beychella marching band, his love for Phily overwhelmed him.

'Stop Meghan Markle! I beg of you', he hollered .

Meg was taken aback by his rejection, 'I'm so sorry H! Please forgive me'. She fled down the ricketty staircase.

Kate was on the couch legs akimbo screaming expletives at Willy, who was now reluctantly sitting next to his wife to assist with the birth.

"FUCK YOU!!!! DID I ASK YOU TO SIT NEXT TO ME YOU BASTARD/BITCH???? FUCK YOU CUNTHOLE!!! FUCK YOU!!!"

Willy chuckled to himslef as he remembered Henri's ex girlfriend, the beautiful Jimmu, who had now somehow possessed Kate.

"IF THIS FUNNY TO YOU NOW??? BLOODY CUNTING BITCH!!! FUCK YOU CUNT!!! FUCK OFF & SHOWVE YOUR HEAD UP YOUR ASS YOU CUNT!!! FUCKING WHORE!!! NOW YOUR OFF MY NICE LIST YOU CUNT!!!"

Meghan held up an X sign to show Kate the plan had failed, which didn't help the situation.

Shortly after, Henri emerged with George and Garthur's camera, trying to explain why stealing was wrong. Curiously, the Cambridge children were the only children in the entire world Henri could not make like him.

After a few long minutes, the baby was ready to come out. Kate pushed one more time and felt something drop onto the couch.

'Is it out?!!!' she yelled.

Phily checked, 'no sister, you've just passed your bowels. Not to worry, keep trying'.

Kate was enraged that Phily would suggest this. 'All I'm good for is making babies, you think I dont know the difference bitch! YOUR BORN A PAUPER & YET YOU EXPECT ME TO BELIEVE YOU EWITH YOUR SHIT COMMENT??? FUCK OFF MOTHER FUCKER I DIDN’T ASK YOU"'

Phily, remaining calm, picked up the brown item with her bare hands, noting in her head that Kate should eat more fruit, and showed it to her.

Kate grabbed the excrement at once and threw it in Willy's face. This delighted Charlotte who danced around him in a circle chanting 'shit face, shit face'.

Finally, sick of being inside such a woman, the baby pushed itself out and landed in Phily's arms. 'William, Catherine - it's a boy', she beamed.

The Camridges faked happiness, but Henri and Phily were genuinely delighted.

'What will you call him?' Phily said, cradling the baby as Kate wanted to watch Real Housewives rather than hold him.

'Shit baby!' Charlotte suggested, but no one agreed.

'Well actually he could have a name related to his arrival' Willy said. 'How about Loo?'

'Loo is the British slang term for toilet' Henri explained to Meg.

'I have an idea!' Meg said. 'Louis - but like Loo - wee'. Kate shrugged in agreeement. 

'You want to name this cherub after a toilet and urine?' Phily asked, feeling sorry for the baby despite the fact he was biting her finger with his gummy mouth.

'You have a problem with my parenting decisions Phily?' Kate asked, almost threateningly.

'Never!' Phily gasped in horror. She would never dream of being so stupid as to judge a woman on what she named, or how she held her baby.

'Charlotte darling, why dont you sing a little song to celebrate Loowee's arrival' Willy said.

Charlotte immediately began a rendition of Lily Allen's 'Fuck you'.

"Fuck you Fuck you very, very much 'Cause your words don't translate And it's getting quite late So please don't stay in touch Do you get Do you get a little kick out of being slow-minded? You want to be like your father It's approval you're after Well that's not how you find it"

 ***Musical interlude***  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OK4fJhbRL1g

---

Two days later, while Phily, Henri and Libby were on an engagement, Meghan finally got a chance to speak to Kate again. She had been busy watching the Real Housewives marathon and telling Loowee to pipe down.

'What we gonna do about H?' Meg asked. 'He's been avoiding me since Loowee's birth'

'It's obvious he's not gonna ditch that halfwit willingly. We gotta get rid of her - for good! It's time for drastic action'. Kate pressed her engagement ring, she had a button installed in it so it would send a shock up Willy's ass when she needed him.

Willy came running, 'yes babykins?'

'Gimme your phone'.

Willy handed it over relutantly. Kate opened his messages and found his conversation with someone only identified by a Rose emoji. She texted quickly - 'get 2 Nott Cott now'.

Five minutes later there was a knock at the door. When Meg opened it, a woman who could have been a Kate impersonator stood before her. 

'Meg, Rose, Rose, Meg' Kate said, not bothering with formal introductions. Willy looked sheepish in the corner (allegedly).

Meg didnt know who Rose allegedly was but she didn't care. She just wanted to know how she could help her ensnare H.

Kate explained the plan. 'As soon as Phily gets home, we're gonna feed her an apple dosed with botox. Phily is allergic to anything superficial so she'll become drowsy. That's where Rose comes in. She's a witch and with one kiss, Phily will be gone.'

Meg considered the implications of killing the future queen, but came to the conclusion it was worth it.

And so the plan was set. Meg wrote 'you are so loved Phily' on an apple and Kate injected it with the botox she always kept in her bra.

When Phily got home, she was full of the joys of spring. 'We met the most wonderful disadvantaged people today', she beamed. 'I just love saving people'.

Henri smiled lovingly at his wife, 'and they love you, belle'.

'Speaking of love!' Meg said. 'You must take this gift'. She handed her the apple and Phily was touched.

'How wonderful! I will eat it later' she said.

'No you must eat it now sister' Kate said, wearing a full hooded cloak.

'But it's time for dinner' said Phily.

'So what, eat it!' George said impatiently.

'Yeh Phily, why you gotta be so busybody?' Charlotte added.

'Oh no I really shouldnt' Phily said innocently.

'Just eat the fucking apple!' said a voice from the window. They all turned around and Philpot was riding past on his horse and cart.

'Well if grandfather says so' Phily said. She bit into the apple and immediately felt a little faint as the botox hit her pure blood.

Elegantly, she fell into Henri's big, strong arms.

'Mon amour!' Henri yelled, carrying her up the ricketty stairs swiftly.

'Oh no, what has happened?' Meg said. Her acting ability really was wasted on Suits.

'There must've been something artificial in the apple' Henri said, laying her on their handmade bed.

'How could there be?' said Kate. 'It's from your very own Orchard For the Hungry'.

Phily was still breathing but was confused.

Henri was devestated at the thought that his orchard might be to blame.

'It's ok Henners, I know a great doctor that is THE expert on allergies'. Meg said.

Just then there was a knock at the bedroom door and Rose allegedly entered wearing a white doctor's coat.

'Here she is now, this is Dr Rose, allegedly', Meg said.

Henri didnt have time to question how she got there so fast, so just said in a panicked voice, 'Dr Allegedly, please help my wife!'

'Everyone who is male and under 2 years of age must leave the room' said Rose.

'No I can not leave her!' Henri wailed, falling at Phily's bedside.

George at once knew it was his time to shine because his father was too dimwitted to defuse this situation.

'Uncle Henri, please could you tell me again why one should never dress as a member of a fascist, murdering political party? I just dont understand why it's so bad' George said sweetly.

Henri knew at once that his greater calling was to teach George right from wrong. It is what Phily would want.

He left the room with one last glance at Phily who was humming 'Once upon a dream'.

That left Kate, Meg, Rose, Charlotte and Phily.

'Get it done Rose!' whispered Kate.

'In order for the enchantment to work, you must all join hands and sing the death kiss soundtrack, the underrated classic 'Kiss from a rose' by Seal'.

***Musical interlude*** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AMD2TwRvuoU

Rose kissed Phily on the lips, as the others encircled them singing hypnotically.

A pink mist left Phily's mouth and was inhaled by Rose. 'It is done'.

There was a moment of silence before Kate fell at Rose's feet and looked deeply in her eyes as she sang.

"You remain

My power, my pleasure, my pain.

To me you're like a growing addiction that I can't deny, yeah

Won't you tell me is that healthy, baby.

But did you know, That when it snows,

My eyes become large and the light that you shine can be seen."

Meg gasped. She had been foolish. It was Kate who was allegedly having an affair with Rose, not allegedly Willy!

She didnt have time for that revelation now. She needed to check Phily was really gone.

Checking her pulse, she waited for a few moments until suddenly she felt it beat.

'Damn it Rose, she's alive!' Meg said, losing her temper.

'ARE YOU DUMB, BITCH??!' screamed Charlotte.

Rose rushed over from her alleged embrace with Kate, who had shed her cloak and was now in a real snake skin body suit.

She checked her pulse, and discovered Meg was correct. Her pulse was beating every 19.84 seconds - the year of Henri's birth.

'Oh fuck' Rose allegedly said. 'I've only heard about this happening in fairytales. When the love between husband and wife is pure, the kiss will not work to its full effect'.

Meg screamed into her hands. 'How can it be pure when H's nethers react to me?'

'That is simply a test from Jesu. The point is, Henri has resisted your advances, thus proving the purity of his love'. Rose explained to the room.

At this point, Charlotte lost it. She wanted to be back in her £4 million apartment, not this shitty dive.

'I don’t need a damn explanation about what she asked. Seriously do not act too smart about teaching me things. Asshole answer the question do not even try to be a bloody smart ass. Seriously pisses me off!!!' she yelled.

Rose looked at Kate quizically.

'A bout of Jimmutitus' Kate shrugged.

'What do we do?!' Meg said desperately.

'As long as Henri doesnt suck Phily's toe, the curse will remain in place and the princess will remain in a slumber forever' said Rose.

Kate stroked her chin, 'so technically, we could just SAY Phily's dead? As long as we keep any qualified medical staff away from her?'.

'I guess' Rose said. 'Can I go now?'.

'Yeah, bye', Kate said.

'How are we gonna keep everyone away from Phily?' Meg asked. 

By this point Kate was running out of patience with her co-conspirator and her incessant questions.

'HEY FUCKER, DID I ASK YOU ANYTHING???? DID I??? MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS!!!' Kate screamed.

'Uh oh you've done it now' Charlotte sniggered.

Meghan was stunned, 'but I-i-i-i was just asking, we're running out of time'

'WHO THE FUCK ASKED YOU BITCH FOR YOUR SHIT OPINION??? BLOODY FUCKING BITCH!!! GET A LIFE!!!'

'Ok ok I'm sorry Kate!'

'MAYBE IF YOU HAD SHUT THE FUCK UP I WOULDN'T BE SCOLDING YOU NOW!!! FUCKER!!! Just shut up and let me think'.

Kate closed her eyes and thought for approximately 10 seconds. In the meantime, Charlotte took off her sock and stuffed it in Meg's mouth to stop any more questions.

When Kate was done thinking, she strode over to the window and flung it open. Beneath her was the sprawling gardens of Kensington Palace.

She took a deep breath and yodelled out of the window 'EUUUUUUGBEEEEEEEEEEEEEA!!!!!!'

Meghan wanted to ask who Eugbea was but she didnt dare.

Within 5 seconds, a figure came running up the lawn. Charlotte leant on the window frame watching the woman run 'urgh her dress is SO tragic'.

'Meg get over here, lean your head back like this', Kate said.

Both woman stuck their heads out of the window and their hair tumbled to the ground.

When Eugbea reached the bottom of the window, she said 'I think I should go up the stairs'

'SHOVE WHAT THE FUCK YOU THINK UP YOUR FUCKING ASS!!! Get up here!' Kate hollered.

Eugbea knew better than to argue and began climbing up the wall using the hair as ropes. Finally she made it to the top and clambered into the bedroom.

As soon as she saw Phily lying unconscious on the bed, she let out an inhumane wail. Phily was like the sister Eugbea never had.

'There there, let it out' Kate said, patting her back, suddenly kind. Charlotte stood underneath her catching her tears in her hands.

As usual, Meghan was perplexed so Charlotte filled her in whispering 'this is Eugbea, a blood princess. Blood princesses cry diamond tears so I'm collecting them to make a cage for Phily.'

Meg didnt understand how Charlotte had worked all of this out in the minute that had gone past, but she wanted it to work so bad that she too patted Eugbea's back.

Eugbea turned around nervously at the touch, 'w-w-who are you?'

'No time for that' Kate said, poking her in the eye.

Eugbea cried even more until there were enough diamonds to build the cage.

At once, Charlotte threw the diamonds in the air and they cascaded down in the shape of a dome around Phily, creating a solid diamond barrier.

Once they had ensured nobody could get through it by repeatedly shoving Eugbea against it, Kate pushed her back out of the window and slammed it shut.

'We ready girls? Put on your best sad faces'. They all turned their smiles upside down and Kate pressed her engagement ring.

Willy came flying up the stairs with the boys and Libby. Henri stormed towards his love.

'What is this!' he asked in dismay, looking at Phily through the dome.

Meg began to cry dramatically, 'Dr Rose did everything she could but it wasnt enough, she's gone!!!'

Henri fell flat on his back like a plank, 'NoOoOoOoOoOoOoooooooOOOO!'

Libby ran over and began to sing 'Memory' from Cats in a beautiful operatic voice (the musical version, not the movie one because Libby had refined tastes).

"Touch meeeeee,

It is so easy to leave meeeeee

All alone with the memoryyyyyyyy

Of my days in the suuun

If you touch me,

You'll understand what happiness is

Look, a new day has beguuuuuuuuun"

***Musical interlude*** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pm5w7gHEtJI

----

No public outcry was big enough for Phily. So the royal family decided to send her diamond tomb around the commonwealth via boat (not environmentally unfriendly jet) so her people could say goodbye personally. She was pulled over dying land on a horse and cart, and people threw seeds at her tomb instead of flowers. This meant that the land would become nourished once more.

Even when dead, Phily was working.

After 6 months of travelling, she returned to the UK and was placed in the Windsor Castle tomb with all the greatest kings and queens of England. Luckily for Meg, no one had noticed that Phily was indeed alive.

Henri was devestated but continued to work, alongside Libby.

The public love for Phily had meant that the Cambridges were provisionally forgiven and they moved back into KP on the condition that they undertook at least one engagement a year.

Meghan Markle had remained in Nottingham Cottage to support Henri while flying (not boating) back and forth to Canada to film her show Suits.

Meg had not tried to seduce Henri's nethers as she knew she must gain the public's trust first and act as a good friend.

But she couldnt wait any longer. Since Kate had moved home, she wanted nothing more to do with Meg, so she had concocted a new plan all by herself.

One evening, Henri was carving scultptures for the PPPCT - Princess Philanthropina Pauper Conservation Trust. Meg was in the kitchen roasting a chicken and wafting the smell towards Henri to replicate the cozy vibes Phily always managed to make.

'H, I was thinking for the 6 months anniversary of Phily's passing, we should have an event, the public need to be cheered up' she said, sounding philanthropic.

'A wonderful idea to think of the people of Britain and the commomwealth Meghan, what shall we do?'

'Mmmmmm, well what cheers the British more than anything?' she asked innocently.

'There are only 2 things that cheer Brits. Winning a sport and a royal wedding for a SENIOR member of the family', Henri said.

Meg smirked to herself, he'd bought it hook, line and sinker. 'We cant cheat in sport so maybe a royal wedding is our only option!'

'But we have no single members left that are loved enough' H said dumbly.

Meg rolled her eyes behind his back. 'Well you are single H, and no one is more loved than you!'

H gasped. 'I couldn't!'

Meg, wearing a British flag dress batted her eyelashes. 'Phily is gone and she'd want you to be happy. But she'd want you to make the British people happier'.

H thought for 1.5 seconds and decided she was right. He scolded himself for being selfish, Phily WOULD want him to serve the people above anything else.

'You're right Meghan, but who would I marry?'

'It's funny you asked because I found this in between Phily's reuable sanitary pads' she pulled out a ring box and opened it. Inside was a diamond engagement ring. 'Phily must have had it made, just in case this happened'.

H wept, 'oh my love was so kind!'.

Meg accidently on purpose dropped it on the floor and when Henri gallantly bent on one knee to pick it up, she yelled 'YES!'

'Um what?'

'YES I'LL MARRY YOU!' she grabbed Henri by the collar and pulled him into a hug, planting a big kiss on his perfect lips.

Henri was speechless. It seemed he had just proposed.

And just like that, Meghan Markle and Henri, the Prince of the People, were engaged to be married!