#though of course she's not accidentally married to anybody (or at all. yet)

[stylishanachronism]

*Wakes up from my endless slumber of like two hours* 👀

"Dearheart! There you are, what on earth have you been up to down here, of all places?"

The elven woman who's just taken his elbow is very pretty, all dark hair and bright eyes and the sort of smile that makes him want to crawl into a hole and die before Iselmyr can do anything terrible, her tone fond and close, like he's her very best friend in all the world, but he's never seen her before in his life. She drops some coin on the counter, enough to pay for the drink he hasn't finished, turns that smile on the barman, who seems a little shocked at her presence, she clearly knows who this is, and drags him off his stool before he can get so much as a syllable out.

"Nevermind, you'll never believe what Engferth's been up to, he's more trouble than you are sometimes, I swear to Woedica I don't know what I'm going to do with the pair of you."

She's got a very firm grip, Iselmyr laughing too hard in the back of his head to be of any help for once, as she whisks him out the door without so much as a by your leave.

"I mean, you keep getting yourself into wild straights, and then forgetting to write, honestly half the family's been sick with worry, and he, well, he went and proposed to Miss Elafa again, then told her it was Ma's idea, which it was, don't get me wrong, but she's made her conditions clear, and all he's going to do is annoy her into refusing him entirely, and I like her just fine but Grandmother'd have all our heads if I made a match like that, and you!"

They're headed up the hill, to the nicer part of town, outside what he can afford at the moment, and he'd really like to know what's going on but she hasn't let him get a word in edgewise and he doesn't think he could get away from her if he tried, and he desperately doesn't want to make more of a scene than he's part of already.

"Well, you've done much better, no matter what Ma thinks, and anyways I'm pretty sure she'd strangle you in half a minute, I could strangle you in half a minute, please stop gallivanting off in all directions, or at least let us know you're alright, the things we heard about your trip south, oh, I nearly had kittens, you didn’t really say yes, did you? Papa thinks you did, and you’d think he’d know, but you’re the sensible one, and he’s horrid, really, you hated him in school, I really don’t understand how he’d even think to ask!”

She shoots him a sidelong glance, even as she turns them into the sort of eccentrically ramshackle villa that means old money, the gate guard giving them a smile but otherwise staying focused on the road, like they’re allowed to be here without an invitation, so she must be part of the family, and drags him in through an elegant archway into the main compound like it’s nothing.

“I mean really, you’re the favorite, even if you did knock your head or something and agree, there’s no way anyone else would, you didn’t knock your head, did you? I was told you’d fallen straight through the floor, but you weren’t hurt, but Ma heard differently, and someone told Wolle that you’d straight shattered you leg, which obviously isn’t true, you really need to write and tell us you’re fine, darling, gods only know what made it back to everyone else.”

She doesn’t give him time to answer, just as she hasn’t since she dragged him out of the inn, rapping at the first solid door they’ve passed and letting them in without so much as a pause.

"You’ll never guess where I found him."

The woman sitting behind the desk lifts an eyebrow, but merely shakes her head.

"Go fetch your father, Aelere."

It’s oddly formal, given the woman who’d dragged him here clearly doesn’t feel the need to stand on ceremony with a complete stranger, much less her- employer? matriarch?, but she pushes him into a seat and takes herself off with a cheerful "Yes, Grandmother!"

Matriarch, then, whoever this family is.

She’s considering him as the door closes, something familiar about her posture, very straight and still, though she must be nearing 300 if she’s a day.

"What am I going to do with you, my dear?"

That’s a question he’d like answers to as well, he has no idea what’s going on. Given her own informality, he’s of the firm suspicion they’ve mistaken him for someone else.

"Well." She gathers the papers off the far corner of her desk, tapping them together and laying them out facing him. His name’s on all of them, more or less, though some of them appear to be addressed to or regarding Alys instead, and some of them merely refer to 'your grandson' in the abstract, and one of them is actually addressed to his mother for some reason, though how this woman got her hands on it is as much of a mystery as anything else. "You've caused quite the stir."

"I'm sorry?"

She waves his apology away, though he doesn't know what he's apologizing for either, and half turns to reach for something off behind her.

"I had understood it from your sister that you had no desire to be married?"

The only person who's been mistaken for his sister ever is Alys, and there's clearly something there, given what he's looking at, but how that particular misunderstanding made it here, across an actual ocean, and how this woman knows about it, he has no idea.

"Ah- Well. No, not really."

"Then what were you doing with Lord Beltin's boy?"

"I- The position was as a research assistant?"

"Mm. Well, that's one way of putting it, I suppose. The same with the Maitwyr girl?"

He doesn't remember any of the daughters of the house being involved with that particular trip, but he did sign up with them, it's not like he could afford to spend three months in the Living Lands on his own, and he got paid for it, so he nods.

"You really need to learn to read a contract, my dear. Your father will see to it, but in the meantime..." She turns back around, holding more paperwork, some of it awfully official looking, though he's utterly distracted with dread by the fact she knows his father, and well enough to refer to him so informally, too.

"Here. My condolences, but you've theoretically been widowed. Twice."

--

This is from the middle of ‘Memory is Fallible’, which is more of a collection of scenes than a proper thing (I’ve been working on it for at least three years, if that’s any measure of what it looks like), centered around the idea that A. Aloth was a lot more popular than he thought he was (which was confirmed canon in Deadfire, much to my delight), B. Telephone is a hell of a game to get away from once a group gets the wrong idea, and C. repurposing my own family lore gets really weird, really fast. It’s also built off a couple of things from my own first playthrough, in which I accidentally built a sprite that looked enough like Aloth’s I couldn’t tell them apart, and eventually resorted to putting one of them in Kana’s hat, except I also then couldn’t remember which one was wearing it, so it didn’t even help.

There’s a little more to this particular bit, bookending it, so context is that Aloth is back in Aedyr proper, on the wrong coast to see his mother, gearing up to go find another weird cult and end it as best he possibly can, and a bunch of people who knew Alys, because she lived in the area for a couple of years not that long ago, recognize him and go tell her family, who are local to this coast, that she’s rolled up and is hiding in a shitty inn for some reason, not realizing they’ve got the wrong kid. Her family, who took Alys’ joke that they were twins now and said ‘hey you know what’s a really good idea?’ and stole him from his dad via trickery and intimidation, puts two and two together, and having no idea he doesn’t know he’s been adopted, send Aelere, one of the cousins, and technically actually his oldest sister now, who again, has no idea he hasn’t gotten any of her letters, to go fetch him, because why should he waste money when the house is Right There, and also there’s the whole thing about how he got married and didn’t tell anyone and now he’s been widowed, whoops. So he thinks he’s been kidnapped and they think he’s being shifty about the weddings, and it really is all about to blow up.

send me a 👀 and i’ll post a snippet of art/writing that i never got around to finishing this year (r.i.p)

[akaashisupremacy]

Fated

Summary: You’re dating your ex-fiancee Gojo again, but your relationship hits a crucial crossroad. Do you stay or do you go?

Gojo Satoru  x reader

Multi-fandom Masterlist || HQ Masterlist || Ao3 version

Genre: fluff, angst, exes to friends to lovers   

“You’re hiding something from me.” Gojo Satoru confronts you as you step onto the hallway for spare rooms in Jujutsu Tech.

He is in your way. You try not to get irritated.

“No, I’m not.” you snap. It’s been a long day. You don’t need this. You push him aside and keep walking. Gojo is irritably good at sniffing things out.

He swiftly appears before you again and blocks your way, “What is it?”

“I missed my period.” You stop and cross your arms, “If you really wanna know.”

“Oh.” He mumbles softly. He looks incredulous, as if he is yet to be sure of what he just heard. You walk past him.

“Oh.” he repeats again, eyes widening as the weight of your words dawn. He turns to you.

You leave him standing there, arrested and head to your room. You’re too tired for this.

Gojo watches you enter your room and lie down. He tries to offer you something to eat since you look so pallid under the fluorescent light of the room.

“I’m not hungry. Just sleepy.” you yawn, waving dismissively.

Gojo feels obligated to stay. He looks at you quietly from the door, unable to leave.

“This really isn’t the most opportune of times,” he breathes in, “but are you seeing anyone else?”

“No.” you murmur, “I don’t have the time.”

He walks in to sit beside you, making sure to close the door behind him. You roll over to the other side of the bed away from his gaze.

Gojo knows he is not an easy person to be with. He’s your ex-fiancée for one thing, and he struggles with monogamy for another.

Being able to be intimate with you again was a chance only the gods could’ve intervened. And now that chance is starting to fade. He lies down beside you, his eyes towards the ceiling. At the start of your relationship, it was him who was hesitant. Things are reversed tonight.

“I don’t want to talk. Go away.” you cut in before he says anything, “I’m seeing a doctor soon to make sure.”

He nods understandingly and quietly, but slowly pads out of the room. The weight of the floor lightly creaks under his footsteps. The silence between the two of you dominates the hall.

————————————————————————————

There was a time when you were younger that you would visit Gojo in his family home. After dinner, you’d sneak outside to his family garden to capture fireflies in paper lanterns.

That was a much different time of course. Since then, you’ve been arranged to be married, broken up and begun precariously seeing each other again after ten years.

“Why are you wading around in the darkness?” he asks, sitting on a pile of rocks, his hands inside his pockets.

Neither of you are really kids anymore, but your fondness for fireflies remains. On your occasional stays in Jujutsu Tech for your sorcery job, you like to spend your down time in the gardens at night.

“I need a break from people.” you comment succinctly.

You’re both quiet from a moment. Gojo becomes too impatient for you to start the conversation.

“So what did the doctor say?” Curiosity overcame him.

You lower your lantern by your side, making sure to face away from him as you reply, “She tried to ask if I was married and if my family knew.”

You turn around quickly, waving your hands before he can react, “You don’t need to worry. I’m considering not keeping it...it’s too much time and work…and it made me think about us. I think we should just end things…whatever this is.”

Gojo knew that this day would come. Deep down, he already prepared himself for when your relationship would end. Yet instead of acceptance, indignance rises in his chest.

“How could you let me go so easily? How are you done with us?” he finds himself saying.

He knew his disinterest in monogamy would come to bite him back someday, but he hadn’t imagined himself in a deeply romantic and emotional relationship with you when it happened.

You shake your head. The sounds of crickets and cicadas keep the silences from being too empty.

“Every year I used to wait to see if this was the year we reconciled. If this was the year we would fix things, not necessarily be lovers, but to just be back in each other's lives.” You look to the stars, sitting in a large rock beside him, “I waited maybe 11 years to see it happen even if I didn’t know if it would come at all. And I can wait another lifetime to try again. But I think in this life, our time has to end. This isn’t going to work out, Satoru.”

Gojo feels as if his lungs will collapse. It hurts him even more to know that you do love him but you’d rather he be out of your life.

“Why would you wait another lifetime for me when I’m here now?” he murmurs.

“I can’t have you to myself.” you say simply, “I can’t take this anymore. Even if I’m not pregnant, I want to be the only one in your life.”

“You are the most important person in my life.” he grabs your hand to reassure you. You don’t resist.

You face him, tears running down your eyes, “Then I don’t understand how you can say that and still need someone else.”

Gojo feels his chest crushed with heaviness. The weight spreads to his back, his arms and neck. For the first time in years, he feels helpless.

“We knew this was coming.” you mutter, pulling your hand away to make your exit out of the garden.

Gojo does not chase after you. He notices his bandages are wet.

————————————————————————

Gojo walks around in a daze for the next few days. People always say that he is a man who has everything, but for now he is the man with only questions without answers.

How can he make you stay?

“Gojo,” Utahime nudge, “GOJO!”

She sharply jabs a finger by his side to bring him back to reality. He jerks back, accidentally hitting the wooden walls of the hallway with a resounding thud.

“Are you even listening to me?” she hisses. He hasn’t been paying attention at the school meeting and her temper is rising. How can he go around doing the bare minimum and still be so praised. She was ready to throw a fit.

“Well…we’re kind of expecting…but we might not keep the baby…and ahh…” he uses his full concentration to string together his thoughts.

Utahime stops in her tracks and rubs her temples. Every other conversation she has with him always sends her reeling.

She crosses her arms together, “Let me guess, one of you wants to keep the kid and the other doesn’t?”

“OMIGOSH YES!” Gojo raises his hands as if someone finally gets him, “How did you know?!”

Utahime looks slightly alarmed at his expression. Protective of your privacy, she looks left and right to see if anybody is nearby. She shrugs.

Gojo continues, “These past few days have made me realize how badly I want a family with them. I really want this! Except it made them realize they want a family with someone else…and I’m not sure there’s anything I can do to make them feel the same way.”

His voice softens towards the end of his sentence as he slowly sinks back into his thoughts.

Utahime takes a moment before dispensing her bit of wisdom.

“Having a child with someone is an incredibly huge sacrifice. If you really want this…then you have to make a sacrifice equal in weight. Whatever that will be…” she sighs, adjusting her kimono. “And I have a feeling you haven’t properly explained to her what an open relationship is.”

She peers at him from the side of her eye. His guilty expression confirms her suspicions.

Every now and then, Utahime feels envious of his power. However, today is not one of those days. He has some hard choices to face she would not want to deal with.

—————————————————————— “Hey!”

A week after your last conversation, Gojo spots you in the school and immediately rushes towards you.

In panic, you shove yourself into an empty meeting room and try to shut the door. He jams his foot between the ledge and determinedly peers you from the door crack.

“Oh no, you are not shutting me out. We are going to talk like proper adults.” he insists.

Your instincts kick in. You kick his feet and push him back. You bolt the door shut and slump down behind it. You’re safe for now.

“You can’t keep running away.” he breathes out from the other side, “We need to talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you quickly rebut, “Gojo, I have no family. There’s no one to help me. I’m going to be alone if this kid comes out of me.”

Your voice fades hoarsely as you utter the last few words.

“You have me.” his soothes in a contemplative voice.

You want to laugh. This relationship was doomed from the start. You were such a masochist for even trying. You must have been consumed with your attraction to him.

Gojo was no different though— he couldn’t help himself. You both want each other too much and now you both were paying the price.

You shake your head, “You’ll just leave me when things get tough. I’m tired of cleaning after your mess. Why can’t you just let me have my way?”

Gojo has no time to be taken aback.

“Because I don’t want a family with anyone else. I’m desperate to make this work with you.” he pleads, “ Don’t push me away. I have my own doubts about myself, and I understand where you’re coming from but I wish you believed in me more.”

You pretend not to hear him.

“I’ll be here for you and our baby, even if it's not always romantic.” he adds, his voice pleading, “I know you’re terrified that I’ll just leave you but…”

You interrupt him by opening the door. As if on instinct he hides his vulnerability from you. His posture leans back coolly, waiting on your next move.

“Gojo, I’m just frustrated to always be at the mercy of your choices. Don’t you understand?”

His lips part slowly, “If you’re not ready for a family, it’s fine. But don't you want to make this last longer?”

——————————————————

“Oh, Satoru, what have we done?” you quietly murmur, staring at the ceiling of his room.

It’s your first night in his faculty dormitory. You’ve never really been before. His room is too close to the principal’s for a casual date night visit.

Gojo’s long switched off the lights but neither of you can sleep.

“What do you mean? The baby or the wedding?” he chuckles.

You shrug, “Both?”

You shift around the sheets, the linen ruffling under your movement.

He crosses his arms and turns to you, “Well, we’ve established that the first one was an accident. The wedding—well—it’s mostly so you and the baby will be under the protection of the Gojo clan.”

Gojo promised to close his open relationship status until your kid is one and you take his word for it. It is perplexing that the wedding was his idea too. However there was something about his sincerity that you could not refuse

“How long till we regret all this?” you half-murmur, half-sigh.

“Honestly, probably every time we hit a rough patch. But we’re not meant to always be happy anyways.” he sighs lying on his arm. It’s an honest enough answer.

You sit up and put your arms around your waist, “Such optimism you have there. So tell me, oh all powerful Satoru, why are we here then?”

“For me, it's to be able to find and meet you.” he says simply.

He catches you off guard with the tenderness of his words. You reach out to touch the side of his face and gently rub your thumb on his cheek. He presses your hand on his cheek.

“If things fell apart again and you had to wait another ten years for us to fix it, would you?”

He asks so quietly you almost don’t hear him.

Your face flushes under the cover of darkness.

“…Yes, I love you too much. This was never going to be just an arranged marriage for me even when we were younger…then again, I think you already know that.” you admit in a shaky whisper.

Now that you've married him, you've given yourself permission acknowledge your true feelings to yourself. You have always been in love with him. And being apart did not changed that.

Propping himself up by the elbow, you realize his face is so close to yours. You can almost feel the wisps of his long lashes on your cheek.

“I know this isn’t your ideal wedding, but this is more than just a shotgun marriage for me too. You are my fated. And you are the only being I want to go through this with—sorcerer, curse or otherwise.”

You try not to giggle at the mention of curses.

“Through this life and the next?” you said with a small smile.

“Through this life and the next.” he assures firmly, squeezing your hand.

You smile widely and he looks at you fondly. These are your favorite moments with him, when you’re at the brink of losing each other in your gazes.

Gojo breaks your shared reverie.

“Can you kiss me?” he grins cheekily, “As your new husband…”

You kiss his forehead without skipping a beat. He flips over, still propping himself by his stomach.

“So what shall we do on our wedding night? Try for twins?” he smirks.

You roll your eyes extra hard to make sure he sees it. Gojo only laughs.

He shuffles out of bed and tosses you your coat, “Well if you really can’t sleep, we might as well go out and see the fireflies. They look bright tonight.”

You put on your coat and smile.

Another lifetime is too far away.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

I wrote this as a follow up for another Gojo x reader fic who used to be engaged. Check out the other parts!

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 || Part 7 || Part 8 

A/N: When I first wrote the original four chapters, I had already know that this was how the series would end (even though I didn't plan to write it all the way here). I don't know if I will continue writing. I have some extra material, but I don't really know if I'd like to write it out. If I ever make up my mind to do so, you will see me pop up in your notifs. 

If not, I guess this is the end. if you've gone through all 8 chapters, thank you for joining me in this wild, heartfelt ride! Comment or message to be added to the taglist! Or write down some comments about your feelsssss

Series Taglist: @tokyo-love-hotel@samkysnks@herownescape@cherrianne192@shamelessdonutsludgebanana@kageyamakock@shirostrbl@luvang3l@cloudsinthecosmos@httpjungoo @saturnki  @itstheee-ha-chan@gucci-froggy@soy1melk @dora-the-grownup @cherryonigiri @fiona782 @a--nonymousse @naturakaashi

If you’d like to continue being part of my taglist (JJK or Haikyuu), please let me know! I also write oneshots for both fandoms and soon I’ll be doing BSD too!

[celestialrry]

a little jealousy never hurt anybody, right?

6.7k

HIIHIHI this was requested by the lovely @angelsuestyles (their ask is in my recent posts!) ALSOOOO THANK YOU FOR 222 BILLION FOLLOWERS (∩˃o˂∩)♡ (not really but 222 :0 !!! I love all of you guys!! thank you, it literally means so much to me <<<<<333333) 

edit: I forgot to put this in here when I first posted but this IN NO WAY is hating on Camille at all (she's literally so hot PLS! she just inspired harry’s 2nd album so she worked for the story) and you guys shouldn’t hate on her either!!! 

summary: Y/N and Harry are idiots.

warnings: cursing, mentions of alcohol and illusions to a boner ¨̮ ( I think that’s it...)

Y/N regrets quite a few things. 

Like that time when she took her senior photo and didn’t realize the small bit of concealer she had blended under her eyes would flash back so much. Or when she was being introduced to a set of twins and even though she had been completely sober that night, accidentally ended up kissing the both of them, not realizing who was who (she didn’t even remember who she wanted to kiss in the first place). And of course, she regrets somehow being able to put a check in one of those super specific love-cliche boxes.

It really wasn’t her fault for falling for Harry. How could she not? Ever since he asked her to join him on his sophomore tour after she played some guitar for his album, she knew there was no way to crawl out of the hole that had just been dug. All thanks to her her friend Sarah, who introduced the two at her intimate birthday party, just months before Harry started producing and writing for Fine Line. 

When an “Oh, shit! You’ll have t’show me sometime!” erupted from Harry after Sarah mentioned Y/N played guitar and even partnered with Mitch on a few projects of his own (that unfortunately, not even after Y/N’s begging, would never be released to the world), Y/N was sure that she would never end up showing Harry, and he was just being sweet. But when a few days later, Harry texted her explaining how he got her number from Sarah and asking if she could get together so he could hear her play, Y/N realized he had been serious, and well, the rest was history.

Harry had insisted she play for a track, then one became a few, then a few became practically the entire album, and soon Harry was talking about how “sick” it would be if she went on tour with them, and after arranging things with her uni and taking a leave from her job, she was ready.

Tour had no shortage of interesting moments, from the time Harry almost broke his ankle during rehearsal and tripping on the microphone wire (why he insisted it have a wire, Y/N had no idea) to Mitch getting really drunk after one show and blabbering on and on about British culture and how different it was from American culture, and YN was sure she’d never seen or heard him talk this much, but no one was complaining.

Y/N had found some sort of companionship in everyone on tour. Sarah had always been like a big sister to her, and the protective instinct really kicked in when they were in a different country, Y/N noticed. Charlotte was pretty new, just like Y/N was and they bonded quite fast over that, and their love for fashion they could never afford. Adam was more open and bubbly, and he took Y/N in like one of his own kids. She truly didn’t think being 23 was so different than everyone else being in their late 20′s and early 30′s but after being treated like a fragile puppy, she noticed that no one else felt the same as her-- she really wasn’t complaining though, it just meant she had all eyes looking out for her, and she kind of needed that to be honest.

Mitch practically became her older brother, and although he was a bit closed off and shy when they first met (which was a few weeks before Y/N met Harry) eventually he was joking around with just her, and teaching her new things on the electric guitar she hadn’t known before.

Finally, Harry. It would be an understatement to say Y/N and Harry got really close, really fast. He was always really good at making friends, but with Y/N it seemed they became great friends in a heartbeat. He opened up about almost everything, fame, missing home, his heartbreaks, his accomplishments, and everything in-between. Y/N did the same, told him how paying for uni was an absolute bitch (to which he offered to pay and she immediately turned him down), how her parent’s divorce impacted her own relationships (Harry had nodded in agreement with that), and about how being on this tour changed her life. By week 2 of tour, the two had become so close, even the fans had picked up on it just during their banter and contact during shows.

“They’re ‘shipping’ you guys,” Mitch had said, taking a sip of water backstage as everyone was gathered in the band’s dressing room. Harry was still getting dressed and ready, so it was everyone but him. “It’s quite cute, honestly.”

Y/N’s brow raised in confusion. “What- why? We act normal like we always do.” She pointed out, firm in her statement. A snort from Charlotte made Y/N turn her head to the strawberry-blonde and gape. “What? Do we- do we not act normal?” She asked, looking around at everyone, now flushing out of embarrassment. “You two act like you’re dating sometimes, love,” Sarah pointed out. “It’s nothing to worry about though, he’s just really affectionate, friends or partners, and we can tell you do too, so it’s inevitable that someone will mistake you guys for a couple.” 

“Mistake who for a couple?” A familiar voice asked, and everyone’s gaze wandered over to the door where Harry had walked in with his billowing dress shirt, and dress pants for the night. “You and Y/N.” Adam said, and Y/N’s head had snapped towards him to give him a death stare, but before her eyes could burn into his skull, her attention was dragged away by an arm draping across her shoulders and the dip of the couch next to her. She turned to look at him, and he gave her a soft smiled before squeezing her shoulder with his hand. “Makes sense, s’like we’re practically married.” 

“I’m waiting on a proposal.” Y/N said with a grin, and Harry smirked, pulling her in closer towards his body. “You’ll get one soon, pet, don’t worry.” The conversation had then shifted to Mitch and Sarah who were literally work-wife and husband, not yet anyways, but everyone knew he would ask her soon enough. Y/N always like this before shows, happy. Not that preforming and the adrenaline rush afterwards wasn’t enough, but everyone was always together, and she liked that a lot. 

She also liked how Harry’s arm had slid down from her shoulders to her waist and how his fingers splayed across her hip, how they gently squeezed, and how his thumb mindlessly ran up down across her skin. It wasn’t an overstatement to say that stayed on her mind the entire night.

。:°ஐ

Harry was always positively buzzing after a show. His narcissistic side loved it when everyone’s attention was on him for hours at a time, screaming his name and shouting their declarations of love.  He loved to be told how talented he was, how handsome he was, and how funny he was, it was safe to say he had a bit of a praise kink, if he’s being honest. But if it was even possible, he loved hearing it all from Y/N even more than the thousands of people in the crowd. He told himself many times that it was just because she cared about him, and he cared about her, and hearing praise from someone he knows and respects (not that he didn’t respect his fans) was just so much more fulfilling.  

So after every show when he’d rush offstage with he rest of his band, his attention always went to Y/N, waiting for her praise, and he always got it.  He, of course, complimented her back, and watching her smile was more than enough to keep him happy the rest of the night. This night had gone the same as all the others, an amazing show, running offstage, and hugs and kisses being thrown around like a beach ball at a rave. “That was awesome H, your whale seems to get better every time.” Y/N had commented, and he had attempted helplessly to keep his cheeks from flushing. “I’ve just got strong lungs, pet. Could never compare to your guitar playing though, the real star of the show. Don’t tell Mitch I said that.”

She waved off his compliment and laughed, pulling him into a soft hug with a soft kiss on the cheek that he was still thinking about when they made their way to a bar for the night. He couldn’t take it off of his mind, not even when there was a pretty blonde in front of him, her hand running flirtatiously over his arm and her smile as blinding as the sun had been earlier.

 Of course she was pretty, there was no way to deny it,  she just wasn’t as pretty as Y/N. No one was, not after he’d laid eyes on her and began using her beauty to determine everyone else’s attractiveness. 

So when his attention from the woman in front of him fades, he’s looking around for the familiar face that he can’t enough of. He meets Y/N’s eyes and immediately her own dart back to Charlotte, biting the inside of her cheek and praying he didn’t catch her staring at him with envy. 

Envy of the girl in front of him, who go to express her attraction towards Harry without hiding it, and not worrying about if he feels the same way or not, because of course he finds the girl in front of him attractive, who wouldn’t? 

It’s then, that Y/N starts to pity herself, physically and romantically. The partners she’s had before always seemed way too good for her, and she had never been the one to end it.  To say that destroyed her self-confidence in the long run would be an understatement. 

It wasn’t like she needed a partner to make her confident, no, she was perfectly capable of doing that on her own, but for the first time in a long, long time, Harry made Y/N feel really good about herself. Good about her personality, her humor, everything, because if someone she looked up to that much, if a man like Harry Styles wants to be friends with her? She thinks it just meant she was doing everything right.

So Y/N, in short, was jealous. So jealous and wound up by Harry showing attraction towards that girl, that everyone else seemed to notice she was a bit off. “Y/N, you okay?” Mitch asked from across the booth, his thick brows twisted in concern. “Hm?” She looked up from the wooden table beneath her to see everyone, sans Harry, looking at her with the most pitiful eyes she had ever seen, and god, did she feel disgusted. Disgusted that she had fallen so hard for a man she could never have, that everyone around her noticed and felt bad for her. 

“I’m fine, but I think m’gonna call it a night. I’m pretty tired after today’s show.” She said with a tight-lipped smile, hoping it would convince everyone that she was okay. Of course it didn’t though and Adam caught on. “Funny, I was about to say the same. I can’t stay up late like I used to anymore, wanna catch a taxi back?” He asked, and Y/N nodded with a real smile this time, albeit the fact it was small, because she really didn’t want to go back to the hotel alone, and Adam always knew what to say.

Sarah and Mitch slid out of the booth to let Adam out, and Y/N simply stood up on her side because she had the outside seat. Harry was supposed to sit next to her on the edge, but seeing as he went to the bar to grab everyone another round and then ended up talking to someone else, that didn’t happen. She slipped on her light beige coat and grabbed her purse, slinging it on her shoulder as Adam put on his jacket as well. When Y/N looked to the bar where she had last seen Harry, he was still standing there animately talking to the woman in front of him, dimples prominent in his rosy cheeks, and all she could do was hope he didn’t notice the two of them slip out as they made their way to the door.

Alas, Y/N could never be that lucky.

“Hey! Where are y’guys going?” 

Y/N and Adam turned around at the sound of his voice and that was when Adam went in full protective mode, slinging his arm around Y/N’s shoulders and pulling her in closer. She made a note in her head to thank him immensely when they escaped this bar. 

“Heading out for the night, we’re both pretty pooped.” Adam explained, eyes darting from Y/N to Harry who now stood in front of them, his own eyes darting from Y/N to Adam then back to the girl who was now avoiding eye contact at all costs. 

“Oh, alright then. Are- Y/N are you okay?” He asked softly and only then did her eyes meet his own. “Yes, I’m fine. I feel like such a baby when I’m around you guys.” She joked, her lips curling into a small smile. 

Adam chuckled at that and so did Harry, but Y/N could tell the curly headed one was still concerned. “Well we gotta catch a cab, so…” She trailed off, her thumb poking back to the door. 

“O-okay,” Harry nodded. “Get back safe, yeah? Have a good night.” He said in parting and Y/N and Adam both nodded, wishing him the same before turning back around and pushing through the door. Harry watched the two of them leave, and his stomach bounced around in an odd way. 

The cold air whipped across the duo’s faces, and and Adam rubbed Y/N’s shoulder comfortingly as he hailed a cab. They didn’t talk until they were settled in the back and Adam told the driver the destination. “Wanna tell me what’s up? Cause I’m not gonna bother you anymore when we get to the hotel.”

She smiled at him and scoffed a bit before trilling her lips, a soft noise releasing from her mouth at the movement. “Um,” She began, running her hands through her hair. “I’m pretty sure you already know.” 

At her words, Adam just raised a brow at her. “What? You guys all looked at me like someone just killed my puppy back there!” She defended, raising her hands. “Okay, fine, fine. It won’t help if you keep all your emotions bottled in though, you know?” 

“Yeah,” She sighed. “I know.”

After getting back up to her room, doing her nightly routine (which really was just her washing her face, brushing her teeth, and changing into the t-shirt Harry gave her a few weeks ago and her Spongebob decorated fluffy pajama shorts that she got in college as a joke but really ended up being her favorite item of clothing she owned, other than Harry’s shirt, of course) she slipped into bed and began scrolling on her phone. 

Only what felt like 15 minutes later, a knock on her door broke Y/N out of the trance she was in and she sighed a bit, pulling the covers back and grumbling as she made her way to the door, annoyed at whoever was behind it-oh.

Harry looked at her as she swung the door open for him and he immediately grinned. “Hi, love.”She could never stay mad at him. “Hey, H.” She smiled at him, still a bit confused. “What’s up?” He ran a hand thorough his hair and retained eye contact with her, before speaking. 

“Sleepover?” 

She nodded and let him in, and immediately he went to her suitcase without a word, pulling out some her biggest sweatpants and stripping to his boxers, slipping the joggers on and keeping his shirt off. Y/N suddenly was reminded of all of Harry’s tattoos she knew none of the meanings behind. 

Sleepovers were common with the two of them, and they always occurred in Harry’s suite, Y/N on the way too comfortable couch, and Harry guiltily on the bed even though she insisted she take the couch because “We can’t have your back hurting when you preform!” And he couldn’t say no when she also said “Please?” and looked at him with those soft eyes. 

So now it was a bit different, being in her room, because 1, there was only one bed that they would both consequently end up sleeping on, and 2, Y/N and Harry’s feelings had both developed a bit further than friendly (although neither knew about the other’s).  

She hesitantly crawled back into her bed and patted at the area right beside her, which Harry quickly traveled over to, lifting his side of the comforter and pulling it over the both of them while Y/N leaned over to the night-stand and grabbed the T.V. remote. She plopped back into the pillows and started scrolling through random channels, trying to find a decent movie for the two of them to fall asleep to. 

All the while, Harry was attempting to look at the T.V. but the light was shining on her face in a way that just made her look so pretty, not that she wasn’t always pretty, but she seemed to always look the best when she was in her natural state, no makeup, no nice clothes, it was just all so domestic and the feeling overwhelmed him when he realized he wanted to be the one to see her like this every night.

Her eyes darted from the T.V. over to her right where Harry was curled up in the covers, and she could feel the burn of his eyes on her. Now that really didn’t help with her insecurities, and as she continued switching through the channels she found herself burying under the covers more and more.  Soon, she landed on a stupid rom-com that she’s seen a few times before but she never really knows what it’s about because her attention gets easily dragged away from it.

She puts the remote back on the table and flips back around to be face to face with Harry, who was now looking at her with furrowed brows. “Why’re you burying yourself under the covers?” He asked with a frown, and she lulled her head away from him then back, biting the inside of her cheek. “M’just a bit cold.” 

His brows raised because he knew full well it wasn’t cold at all in this room, in fact it was quite hot, but he didn’t want to deal with her lying and thinking she could get away with it, so he pulled the covers off of himself, which actually cooled him off a good amount and piled them all on top of her. “Hey!” She cried out, muffled by the fabric on top of her. “M’hot, so I figured you could have my covers.” 

He heard a bit of grumbling and the covers were flung off of the bed entirely in a few seconds, Y/N sitting up and leaning on her arms breathing a bit heavy and turning to Harry with a stink in her eye. He just flashed his signature cheeky grin and she grabbed her pillow and hit him over the head before placing it back and pulling the sheets over her body. 

“Ow! You fucker.”

。:°ஐ

 Harry was sure about a lot of the things he did. 

Like when One Direction split up, he didn’t remain in constant contact with the boys, and while it was difficult at first,  they all needed a break, and it just made it so much better when they met up to hang out again. Or when him and Camille both decided it was for the best that they break up and they remain friends to this day. And of course, he was sure about bringing Y/N on tour. 

She was possibly one of the best people he had ever worked with, and one of the best friends he’s ever had. He was sure about getting close with her, and he was sure about keeping her close. Only, now keeping her close meant keeping her arms length apart, because if he got any closer he wouldn’t be able to handle being with her any closer than a few little touches and hugs and cheek and forehead kisses, not when he couldn’t have her. 

So it was safe to say when he opened his eyes the next morning with Y/N flung over him, her leg between his own, her arm wrapped around his chest with her face pressed into the junction of his shoulder and neck, and her warm soft breaths hitting his bare skin, making goosebumps pimple, he freaked out. 1, because friends did NOT cuddle like this, and 2, the close contact was making his chest clench and his lower abdomen heat up. 

He let out a shaky breath and thanked his lucky stars Y/N was a deep sleeper, and slowly slid out from under her, ignoring how his arms were wrapped around her and his hands were touching her bare skin where her shirt (his shirt really, and that just made it about a billion times worse) had ridden up in the night. As he was pulling his torso from her body after getting his legs out, she let out a whine and her grip on his back tightened. 

His heart beat wildly fast, so fast he wouldn’t be surprised if he looked down and saw it moving through his skin, and he stilled, terrified that she was awake. A few minutes went by, and she didn’t stir anymore, so after chalking her movements up to a dreaming Y/N, he moved a hand and gently took her soft hand off of his bare skin, letting out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. 

Finally he’s out of bed, and slipping on the clothes he wore the night before, folding the sweats he borrowed and putting them back in her suitcase.  He grabs his phone off the other side table Y/N never used and reaches her door, making the terrible mistake of looking back. Y/N’s face is smushed into the pillow he put under her head, her lips sightly open as she slept and her arms now curled around the pillow Harry had used last night, and he would swear on his mum’s life that she was breathing in his scent if not for the fact that he was certain she didn’t like him the way he liked her, and he didn’t want to barter his mum’s life on something so uncertain. 

His chest clenched for what felt like the billionth time this morning and even if he didn’t know it then, he had already decided that he couldn’t handle this anymore, whatever this was, and began to push the sleeping girl out of his mind and heart, in order to save himself from future heartbreak.

 。:°ஐ

When Y/N woke up, her bed was empty, and she had never felt akin to a bed until that morning. 

。:°ஐ

The last time Harry really spoke to Y/N was the night he slept over.

It had been a little over a month since then, and she was trying really hard not to let it get to her, but seeing as Harry interacted just fine with everyone else, and his problem seemed to be with just Y/N, she couldn’t help the nagging feeling that she had somehow scared him off. 

A week after he slept over, the only times he spoke to her were for performances and work-related things, and her mind had been swarming with questions. Did she say something about him, or to him while she was sleeping? Sure, she had a dream about him, but it wasn’t anything dirty (although that had happened a few times before), they were just at a carnival and there was a ride in which they got to fly, it was quite fun. Did she cuddle him too much? Sure she could be really touchy when she’s tired, but so can Harry if his wandering hands (only in appropriate places) when they had movie nights were anything to go by.

So her questions went unanswered, and her attempts to speak with him were fruitfully ignored, whether that be he pretends he didn’t hear her the first time, or if he excuses himself before answering because he had to talk to someone about something. 

Everyone else in the band noticed, and Y/N didn’t know it, but everyone at tried to talk to Harry about it at least once. Adam mentioned how Y/N and Harry seemed to have drifted apart and Harry only hummed in agreement, making it obvious he didn’t want to talk about it. Charlotte had asked Harry if he was doing okay, to which he responded “Of course I am, why wouldn’t I be?” And she didn’t feel like it was her place to tell him that Y/N had come to her crying about Harry’s actions, or lack thereof, towards her and she didn’t know what was wrong. Sarah was blunt with Harry, telling him how it was obvious Y/N and him weren’t speaking and asking what had happened to which Harry shrugged it off and told her that “people grow apart”, and it wasn’t anything personal.  Mitch had tried to the same, to no avail, despite being even more blunt than everyone else.

And that led them here, 15 minutes before Harry’s second, and last night in L.A. on his tour before they head to New York. He was quite looking forward to it, excited to see the few friends who couldn’t make it the night before. It was easy, going out with people after the performance, not having to think about Y/N as he drinks the night away. 

He looked in the mirror in front of him, patting the invisible dust off of his pearl adorned blazer and pants, the wife-beater under his coat so thin his tattoos could be traced. Usually after he was dressed he would pop into the band’s dressing room just to shake off the nerves beforehand, but he stopped doing that after he began to push himself away from Y/N. There would be no where else to sit but next to her, and that didn’t help his overwhelming need to hold her.  So instead, he made his way to the couch in his room, relaxing for the few minutes he had.

Y/N on the other hand was sitting in the dressing room with Sarah, Mitch, Charlotte, and Adam, all conversing about how ready they were, the energy in L.A. the night before had been off the charts, and they were more than excited to feel it again. All Y/N could think about, however, was that this just meant there was one more show to play, then tour would be over, and there would be no more reason to be in Harry’s band. Not when he clearly didn’t want to be friends with her anymore, and she thinks this is the worst she’s ever felt in a long, long time. 

。:°ஐ

The first part of the show goes really well. Harry is hyping up the audience, and everyone is smiling. “She” was the next song they were to play after Harry stopped interacting with the audience and Y/N was excited. It was one of her favorite songs to play, and she loved just stopping and listening when Mitch did his solo. He usually did the more detailed guitar work, while Y/N worked with the backing chords. 

“Alright, the next song we’ll be playing is “She”, let’s make sure not to get Mitch’s ego too high afterwards though.” Harry had laughed into the mic, walking back to the stand and clicking the mic into place. Then, it began. It was good, it really was, until Y/N noticed that Harry had faltered a bit in the chorus, and her eyes followed his own to the blonde hair in the VIP section. It was her, Camille, the muse behind this entire album.  Her heart stuttered as she noticed he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. She was gorgeous, prettier than all of the pictures she’s seen.

And Harry was looking only at her in the crowd.  It was then, that Y/N started to go a bit haywire. He began to sing the chorus, and she guesses her fingers held the pick a bit tighter, and strummed bit harder, because after 10 seconds of playing she realized she could no longer hear his voice. Almost immediately did she soften the strumming and look up to see Harry turn to face her, confusion and anger, maybe, written all across his face.  She ignores it and continues to play until the song is over. She’s not listening when the crowd cheers, but she regrets tuning in when Harry introduces the next song on the set list, how he says that it’s possibly one of his favorites, and meet’s his ex’s eyes when he starts to play Cherry.

It’s then that Y/N breaks. She keeps her eyes down, and her strumming quiet, just incase she falters (which she does about 2 times), and when her mouth moves up to sing the backing vocals she realizes that her eyes are welling up and her throat is closing in.  She closes her mouth and continues to play the guitar, missing Harry’s look back at her, and the rest of the band’s attempt to conceal the fact that she had stopped singing in the middle of the verse. 

The rest of the show goes on, and her tears are held back when they all wave goodbye, and when they rush offstage, and when Harry’s hand brushes her arm that she’s sure was a mistake (it wasn’t), and they continue to be held back until she bursts into the unisex restroom just a mere 20 feet away from the dressing rooms. She locks herself in a stall and sits on the closed toilet seat, shaking hands covering her face as she chokes on her sobs, knowing she would never be enough for Harry, thinking about how he want’s nothing to do with her, and how big of a mistake she made going on tour with them, because if she didn’t, then she wouldn’t have fallen in love with Harry, and she wouldn’t be feeling this way. 

What feels like hours, but was actually just 15 minutes of her crying all the tears she could cry, she decided it was better to mope in her own hotel room rather than in a public place where anyone could walk in. She steps out of the stall and doesn’t bother looking in the mirror, only washes her hands, then rinses her face, patting it dry with a cheap brown paper towel. She crumples it up and tosses it in the trashcan, walking out of the restroom to see Harry outside of his dressing room, his arms wrapped around Camille in an intimate embrace. 

Intruding would be a good word to describe how she felt right then, and quickly did she speed walk the other way, trying not to let any more tears fall as she opens the door to the bands dressing room to see Sarah and Mitch packing up her things. One look at her was all it took to break the dam that held her tears, and she covered her mouth with her hand, her head falling down and her other arm wrapping around her stomach, maybe it would make things better.

 Sarah quickly hands Mitch Y/N’s bag that held her sweats, sweatshirt, purse, and phone she brought to the venue, and takes the girl into a much needed embrace. She cried into Sarahs chest for a bit, snotty apologies from Y/N that Sarah waved off, insisting it was okay, and that she would be okay.

After calming her down a bit and receiving a hug from Mitch, she takes her bag and walks into one of the privacy divider boxes, changing into the clothes she would wear tomorrow on the flight, and tonight to sleep in. Mitch and Sarah lead her out of the venue with all of their arms locked, and bring her to the car, the hotel, and lastly her room.

“We’re right next door, if you need anything. Are you sure you don’t want us to stay?” Sarah asked, biting her lip in anxiousness. Y/N shook her head, her puffy eyes hurting from the movement. “No, I’m gonna be okay. Thank you- um, can-can you not tell anyone? I just-”

“Of course we won’t tell anyone,” Mitch interrupts her, making sure she won’t start crying again, because if there’s something he wants least, it’s to see her cry. “We’ll see you tomorrow morning, okay?” 

Y/N nods, and they all hug and part with declarations of love and goodnight’s.

。:°ஐ

Harry just arrived at the hotel after a quick late dinner with Camille at her flat, catching up and eating some really good Chinese take-out. It was always good seeing her, they weren’t super close anymore of course, she had a new boyfriend now, he was there too actually, a really fine lad that he thinks Camille deserves, but he enjoyed getting to see her with no bad-blood.  

So the night was going good, other than Y/N’s weird guitar mishap and her faltering voice during the show, that he couldn’t stop thinking about. 

Well, it was going good, until Mitch called him after Harry sent him a text talking about how he was back at the hotel, and told him that he was really stupid. Told Harry that Y/N seemed really hurt earlier, and how he thinks that Harry ignoring her caught up to her. Of course, Mitch knew it was partially untrue, but to remain loyal to Y/N he couldn’t tell Harry why she was so upset, and exactly how upset Y/N really was. 

Upon hearing this, Harry’s mood deflated and he rushed to Y/N’s hotel room, knocking a few times with a soft “It’s me, Harry.” through the door. Y/N heard it, but there was no way in hell she would open the door for him, so she feigned sleep and hoped he wouldn’t attempt to wake her up. “Are you awake, love?” No answer. “Pet?” No answer. “Okay, well, I just wanted to talk to you, um, but we can do that tomorrow, I-um, I’m sorry.” 

He left, after that, leaving her to curl up in her covers alone, tears leaking from her eyes.

The next morning was anything but fun, they were to wake up at 6 and catch the 7:30 AM flight from L.A. to New York.  Of course, everyone one in the band and a few others got first class, while the rest of the crew rode on Harry’s rented private jet, to hold all the equipment that wasn’t provided at the venue. 

So this meant that Y/N and Harry would have to be stuck in the same cabin of a plane together for about 5 and a half hours. Luckily they weren’t designated to sit next to each other, but Harry had other plans. 

He switched tickets with a hesitant Charlotte and got the aisle seat, where Y/N would have the window seat. He got on first, and got settled in,  biting his lip in nerves, he wasn’t really sure how he would be able to explain away all of his actions to her, but he knew that he had to, he didn’t want to loose Y/N.

Y/N stepped onto the plane, flashing a fake smile at the flight attendant who obviously noticed her puffy eyes and frowning face. Her eyes darted from the row number and seat letter to the ones on the top of the cabin, and when she found the matching pair of seats, there he was, in all his sweatpants-sweatshirt covered glory. 

Her mouth opened to tell him she didn’t want to sit next to him, but when he looked up at her with a soft smile, all she could do was close her lips and sigh, squeezing past him to plop down in the seat with the window. 

He didn’t try to speak to her, and she did the same, but he really wanted to. Wanted to ask her how she was, what she had been doing when they stopped talking (or when he stopped talking to her), if her Mom was still working at the job she wanted to quit or if she finally did it, if she still wanted to get a cat when tour was over, but he just couldn’t. 

He had no idea where to even start, does he talk to her, then hope the conversation will lead to a place where he can apologize, or does he just apologize straight up, but have no explanation as to why he hurt her in the first place.

The internal battle lasted until they landed, when they got off the plane, traveled to the hotel, and when they went to their respective suites.

Y/N considered herself lucky that Harry had decided to not speak to her on the flight. That wouldn’t have given her an option to opt out of the conversation, and she knew he was smarter than that.  She didn’t know however, that when she opened the door to her hotel room after a hasty knock, expecting another member of the band, that Harry would be standing in front of it, his eyes widened in anxiety. 

“Wh-”

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out, interrupting her and walking past her into her room that she hadn’t invited him into. “I’m so sorry for ignoring you, and-and not talking to you when you tried to talk to me. You didn’t deserve it, I’m sorry.”

Her brows raised in surprise and she shut the door behind him, staying near the entrance.  As her mouth opened to accept the apology, her mind raced through how she had been feeling the past month and instead she said, “It’s been a fucking month Harry, I-I thought everything was fine, and then one day you just decided to cut me out?”

“I know,” He stepped closer to her, guilt rushing through him. “I know, it was stupid of me, and I shouldn’t have, but I didn’t even know what to say. You wouldn’t even look at me on the flight and I-“

He was interrupted by her walking up and pushing her finger against his chest. “I wouldn’t talk to you?” She scoffed, tears brimming her eyes. “I-what did you expect after you pushed me away for a month, no warning, no reason-”

“Of course I had a reason!” Harry raised his voice, eyes watery as well.  “I fucking love you! That’s why, and-and we were getting too close than friends should, and I couldn’t handle not being with you.”

Silence. 

“Fuck, Y/N I’m so sorry-mmph!”

His apology was silenced by her lips on his, and his eyes widened as he realized what was happening.  They fluttered closed, and his arms wrapped around her torso, while her hands were placed on his cheeks and wowthiswasreallyhappeningandhewasn’tdreamingwashedreamingnohewasn’t-

Y/N pulled away with a deep breath in and laughed a bit, her forehead resting against his. “If you didn’t catch on with that, I love you too.” 

Harry laughed and cheekily grinned, pulling her even closer than she was before. “Really? I’m not sure I got it, can you help me understand a bit more?”

She swatted his chest and kissed him once more. “Cheeky bastard.” 

[criminalminds4days]

Family Matters: Prologue

As promised, here is the prologue for the series. 

Warnings: Swearing, sexual references, violence and murder reference, public embarrassment, and very bad jokes!

Word Count: 3.2k

Chapter Board | Next Chapter

Tag list: @mcntsee @lets-be-gay-for-the-angel @evelyncade @haylaansmi @paulaern @myfandomlife-blog

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(This gif is not mine)

Prologue: Get It Together!

She was gonna do it. Yes, of course, she was. She had finished college, gotten a doctorate, taken down an armed serial killer, been held hostage and now she worked for the Behavioral Analysis Unit, one of the most exclusive and hard to join teams in the FBI, so of course she could do this! Yet here she was, breathing heavily as she tried to press the button, it was now or never.

Maybe never?

No! She couldn't be afraid anymore, she had to do it. She was twenty-eight years old, she couldn't just... But what if her age was the reason this was pathetic? No! She had to do it, she had to do it. There was no turning back, if her family found out about this she would be humiliated (yet again). She couldn’t just say that at her age she had fallen so low. She had to cover it up, there was no other way. But what if they found out anyway? No, she couldn’t allow such a thing.

Breathe.

"Are you okay?" The voice of her coworker made her jump and almost drop her phone. She locked the screen and turned to look at him. He seemed confused at her reaction, but she simply fixed her hair as if it was any other Monday and what she was doing was perfectly normal.

"I'm fine."

"You don't seem fine." He pointed out. That was Spencer Reid, always kind, always honest. His brown hair was a curly mess and his brown eyes stared at her intently as he fixed his navy tie, he was wearing a white dress shirt and grey dress pants, definitely not the attire she imagined ever seeing from the sweater-loving resident genius at the BAU, however, she resisted the urge to comment, instead focusing on the issue at hand.

"Thank you, what all girl wants to hear." She debated whether it was worth telling him or not. While she and the other Doctor on the team weren’t necessarily good friends, being held hostage together and taking a beating to prevent him from being killed creates a certain bond between people, so she decided to attempt and share her situation. “I was trying to... Ugh, this is so embarrassing." She placed her head in her hands, lamenting every second of her miserable life.

"I don't know, maybe if you tell me it'll be less embarrassing?" He asked.

He was trying to be helpful; she knew he was, and she appreciated that more than anything, but it was hard to share how low she had fallen despite her age and position. She knew if someone would listen and not make fun of her it would be the man sitting at the desk across from hers, but she just couldn’t phantom saying it out loud. Then again, he was a genius, and he was not known for his successful love life, so maybe, just maybe he would understand the situation better?

"I accidentally told my annoying cousin that I was dating someone and now I have to bring my boyfriend to her stupid wedding."

"So? How is that embarrassing?"

"I don't have a boyfriend!"

"Why did you say you did? How do you accidentally tell someone you have a boyfriend when you don't?" She knew he wasn't making fun of her, that he was genuinely perplexed, but that knowledge didn't help subside her irritation.

"I only said it because she kept ranting about how I was gonna die alone and she was better than me..." She looked at him, his brow raised. "Okay, maybe she didn't say it exactly like that, but the intention was clear!" She cleared hair out of her face and continued, "Anyway, because I clearly do not have a significant other, I thought that if I hired someone to be my boyfriend during the wedding, it might be less painful?"

"You decided that the best way to solve your problem, of lying to your annoying cousin about your love life was hiring a fake boyfriend?" She looked at him, and a small smile played on his lips. "How does that make sense?"

"It doesn't! But I'm out of options here and I don't know what to do!" Her leg started bouncing as she bit her lip. "The wedding is this weekend, and I will die before I admit I lied to bitchy Anna!"

"That's a little extreme, don't you think?"

"Spencer Reid, you have no idea how far I'll go to shut bitchy Anna up!"

"Who's bitchy Anna?" Another voice said as Emily Prentiss, a tall woman with clear skin and dark short hair made her way to them. She was wearing a white dress shirt with a matching black blazer and dress pants, her small heels making a click-clack noise as she walked. If only she could have the confidence and stamina of Emily Prentiss, she would not be in this mess. Though she couldn’t daydream of being the woman in front of them too much after hearing Spencer’s words.

"Her cousin to whom she lied about dating someone. Consequently forcing her to now look for a fake boyfriend for hire." Spencer spoke as if nothing was weird about the whole situation.

"Why don't you just take Reid? It's not like he has plans, right?" She suggested as an amused smile played on her lips.

She didn't even have time to be mad at the man for spilling out her most embarrassing secret like it was nothing, because Emily's words made her perk up. She turned to him and he quickly shook his head.

"No, there is no way. I hate weddings, and parties in general."

"You owe me!" She argued.

"What? I don't owe you anything!" He defended himself.

"Of course you do, you told Emily something I confided in you!"

"You didn't tell me I wasn't allowed to say anything!"

"Spencer, please, I will do anything you want in order to make bitchy Anna eat her words." She placed her most convincing puppy face and looked at him. This face never failed, on anybody. She had mastered the art at age five and from then on the only thing it couldn’t get her was a normal family. Actually, scratch that, it never really worked after she became ten and Anna had also mastered it, but she was hoping this would be an exception.

"No."

Well, she had already embarrassed herself enough, so what was more begging in the great scheme of things?

"Come on, it's not like I'm asking you to marry me! I'm just asking you to pretend to be in love with me for one day."

"Be careful, that's how a lot of love stories begin," Prentiss said teasingly as she winked at the pair.

"Come on, I will give you money, I will drive you to work for a month. Whatever you want, it's yours." She said, "and Prentiss, this is the real world, not some cheesy love story. Spencer and I are much too mature for those silly things."

"No, I'm mature enough to know better. You just offered anything I want on a silver platter so I can pretend to be your boyfriend at your cousin's wedding. Let that sink in for a minute." He said as his smile grew wider, an idea clearly appearing in his mind. "Let me see, how about, a whole year of rides to work and coffee, for 24 hours of being the fake love of my life."

"Deal." She stretched her hand to shake on it and he looked at her, slightly offended. "Sorry, I forgot. I will make sure to wash my hands more times than necessary and wear gloves all week because you do have to hold my hand during the wedding, couples do that."

"Real couples do that, and it's not very hygienic."

"Well, for Saturday we will be a fake real couple, so let that sink in for a minute." She said as she triumphantly left the scene. She was making her way to the elevator, until she remembered she couldn’t really leave as she had arrived only thirty minutes ago, and her shift was not over until five. She fixed her hair and walked back to her desk as if she hadn’t just embarrassed herself in front of two of her coworkers and continued her paperwork. She heard a laugh from Emily’s desk and didn’t even bother to look up. She had figured out her plan and now she just hoped it would not explode in her face, so a few laughs from her coworker were worth the trouble.

Truth be told, there was a much bigger reason she needed to have someone at the wedding, but Spencer and Emily didn't need to know that. They didn’t need to know why she was willing to feed Spencer Reid’s addiction to coffee and his hate for driving for a whole year rather than tell her cousin she was still single.

Before she knew it, the weekend had arrived and she was in her car, a two-door gray Scion she had very proudly named Matthew when she bought him last June, and she made her way to Spencer's complex. She waited for him in her car after letting him know she was outside. She took the time to look at her now straight hair and her barely visible make-up. She knew blue was Anna’s favorite color, as it was also hers, so she made sure to wear a turquoise dress for her wedding, this was going to be a productive night, for sure.

"Hello, darling." He said as he buckled his seat belt. He was wearing a black suit with a tie that matched her dress, provided by her. His hair was lazily pushed back, giving his fluffy curls volume. She wondered what it would be like to touch it? Spencer would never allow it; he loved his hair way too much.

"We are gonna have the time of our lives, babe." She winked at him and began driving to the venue.

Of course, Anna would use the same venue she had been wishing for her wedding because it wouldn't be Anna if she couldn't have absolutely everything she ever wanted and more. The woman didn't know how long ago this passive-aggressive feud between the two had begun but she'd be damned if she let her cousin beat her at it. She pulled Spencer by the arm gently as she made her way to their table, which was front and center, granting her cousin the ability to see who she had brought along.

"If it isn't my favorite cousin!" She exclaimed. The girl fought the urge to roll her eyes. "And who might this be?"

"Anna, this is my boyfriend, Dr. Spencer Reid. Babe, this is my cousin, Anna."

"Anna, newly Hemingway." She emphasized her last name. As she reached to stretch his hand, but he simply waved. "Pleasure." She said as she retracted her hand and looked him up and down. It was only natural for her to do such a thing. "So cousin, have you heard that the family retreat has a date?" She exclaimed with excitement. "It's in about two weeks. You two obviously coming, right?"

"We actually have a retreat, with our team from the Behavioral Analysis Unit." She said, already looking for a way out, Spencer nodded in agreement.

“What a shame,” Her cousin said with faked empathy. “I’m sure it has nothing to do with what happened two years ago, does it?”

She was out of words, of course she would bring it up. Because of that incident she had convinced her mother to not force her to go last year and it was definitely the reason she was not going this year either, but the fact that Anna knew that got to her. She was ready to go home and cry of embarrassment once again. She had done it. Anna had won with one single question.

“Actually, I didn’t want to say anything hon, because it was a surprise,” Spencer spoke for the first time. “Aaron Hotchner, our boss, said that if I could memorize the whole itinerary, which I obviously can thanks to my eidetic memory and IQ of 187, that I could simply share the notes with you and we can take the weekend off since we are his favorites anyway. I was planning on a much more romantic evening than some family retreat but if your cousin is so determined to have us go, we shall be there.” He smiled at the bride, his amusement not so subtle at her reaction.

“You found a keeper,” Anna said, moving some blonde strands of hair from her face. “Anyway, I have to say hello to some guests, but I will see you two lovebirds later.” Her white dress got caught under her heel making her cousin almost fall, but this last one continued as if nothing happened.

"Thank you." She said as she squeezed his hand gently, realizing they were still linked. A whole thirty minutes, that had to be a record for him.

"Don’t thank me, now I understand why you call her bitchy Anna.” They both chuckled at the comment.

“I will call the day of the retreat and say you came down with the flu or something.” She assured him.

“No, I am definitely coming.”

"What? Why would you want to do that?"

"Because," He began, "in the time I've known you I've never seen you let anyone walk over you, or make you feel less. Remember when we met?" She chuckled at the thought. "I didn't appreciate the public embarrassment, but I gained a lot of respect for you. It was hard watching you let her talk to you like that and make you feel less. You are not less." He assured her as he looked at her, sympathy in his eyes. "You are an amazing agent and friend. I bet you're a great daughter and a reliable family member. You are much stronger than you give yourself credit for. If it wasn't for you, we would have never survived that day, I will never forget that. So, I will go with you, and I will be the best boyfriend your family has ever seen, and bitchy Anna can suck it."

She laughed at his comment and he joined. Boy, was she glad Spencer was here with her. Even if they had never been the closest of friends, she valued his opinion, and she was glad it was such a positive one. She wished this was the beginning of an actual friendship between the two.

"Honey!" Her mother's voice interrupted her thoughts, as she approached them

"Oh no." She mumbled, confusing Spencer. "Babe, get ready. You're about to meet my mom." She apologized with her eyes and turned to the bubbly woman that approached them. "Hello, mother." She said as the dark-haired woman with tan skin and stiletto heels that should be illegal reached her, giving her a tight hug. Her red dress matched the infernal shoes and a necklace of pearls adorned her neck.

"Who might this handsome fella be?"

"Mom, this is Spencer Reid, my boyfriend. Spencer, this is my mother." Before he could say anything she was already squishing his cheeks followed by the woman planting a kiss on each side of his face. "You are handsome, I bet my grandchildren will be gorgeous!"

"Mom!" She exclaimed embarrassed.

"What? Don't tell me you're not planning on marrying this hunk? He's a keeper, I can tell."

"You also said that about Tyler." She regretted the comment instantly, the reason being that she didn't need anybody else to know of that embarrassing story.

"Yeah well, aren't you glad you aren't with him anymore?" She said as if public humiliation was something to appreciate. "So how long have you two been seeing each other?"

"Two years."

"A year." She responded as she heard Spencer answer at the same time. "He means that he's liked me for two years, but we only went on our first date a year ago, a year after my breakup with Tyler."

"Yeah, that's right."

"Oh, well. I always thought you would be Mrs. Tyler Hemingway, but Mrs. Spencer Reid sounds so much better!"

"It's doctor." They both corrected.

"Even better!" After that, she walked off without saying another word.

"That's your fake mother-in-law dude... She's something else." She sighed with relief at her mother's easily distracted personality.

"Did she say, Hemingway? As in-"

"Yes, as in my cousin's new husband." She cut him off. "The same one that two years ago told me in front of most of my family that he was in love with my cousin and left me heartbroken and humiliated. That same Tyler Hemingway."

"I'm sorry."

"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right?" She heard his voice call her and she immediately tensed, Spencer noticed this and moved towards her.

"I am also sorry for what I am about to do, but it will make sense soon." He said as he let go of her hand and grabbed her cheeks, pulling her for a kiss as her ex-boyfriend now turned cousin-in-law watched, perplexed.

When someone describes a fake kiss, it is usually romantic. First comes the surprise, and then immediate compliance, but she was so confused Spencer had to basically squish her cheeks to make her close her eyes and for her to realize what he was doing. She followed suit and kissed him back, still unable to form a coherent thought. It was not like Spencer Reid was a bad kisser, if she had to rate it, it would have been the best kisser she had ever encountered, but the situation that had created such a kiss did not provide for her enjoyment. Not that she wanted to enjoy it, this was her coworker turned accomplice and hopefully actual friend, not someone she was necessarily attracted to, even though she could admit that he was a handsome man. That was not something weird, even Jennifer Jareau, JJ, their friend, and coworker had said it once or twice. You can admit someone is handsome or beautiful without being attracted, everybody knew that.

The cough coming from Tyler Hemingway made Spencer let go of her, as soon as he did he winked at her and moved a strand of hair behind her ear, subtly stabilizing her and covering her shocked face until it dissipated.

“I thought you weren’t one for PDA,” The groom asked. His black tuxedo and white dress shirt made him look handsome, his black hair was pulled back and his blue eyes observed them intently.

“PDA?”

“Public Demonstration of Affection.” She clarified. “Tyler, have you seen this man next to me? How could I not want to kiss him every minute of the day.”

“And this woman has me craving for her touch.”

“Lovely.” The man responded with anything but love for them. “I just wanted to say hi and apologize, I hope you did not mind the venue Anna chose.”

“Me? Why would I mind?” She laughed. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

She felt Spencer’s arms wrap around her waist from behind, even though she hadn't noticed he moved. His head rested on her shoulder, leaving small kisses on her cheeks. Who was this man and what did he do with Spencer Reid?

“I hope you do not take this the wrong way, but when she and I get married it would have to be a much larger venue, with a different layout. I mean, this venue is cute, but this beautiful woman could outshine it just in pajamas.” He smiled at the man and turned his attention to her. “I keep telling you love: stop thinking small, you are a queen among peasants and deserve nothing but the best. Anyone who can’t see the level of woman you are is simply an idiot.”

This was the moment she was ready to marry Spencer Reid and never let him go, just for the satisfaction of seeing Tyler’s face at his comment. She would forever be grateful to Emily Prentiss for suggesting she ask him.

[sleepdeprivedheretic]

Restrained

  Notes: I have no excuse, I just want a crack fic with smut treated seriously with Tai-chan to step on me the reader while looking down cockily. Humor, angst, fluff, splashed with pining dust :’) Also, I love Linkin Park.  

Setting: Reader-chan is a villain and is terrible at being one, cue ongoing physical and snark battles with Tai-chan.  

Warnings: Kinky Smut (So here’s what my unacknowledged, vanilla self, has tried to write and nobody has to read it but it’s here in the story: Dirty talk, safe words, possessiveness, edging, talk about inexperience, handcuffs, breeding kink, unsafe sex, Tai’s mean and leaves the reader unattended, but he feels bad afterwards, lube, somehow there’s vanilla, and fluff) and my weak emotions for Good Boys.  

……….

       You didn’t exactly chose the Villain life, it basically chose you. Cue your dad’s maniacal laughter, your mother’s evil smirks and her ways of teaching you how to go for the jugular since you were five...wasn’t the most heroic childhood.  You grew up distant away from others, living life learning how to avoid the law and training heavily to avoid losing a fight, your parents seemed to take that as a green-light and pushed you into the family business. Not like you could fight it, anyway. You were an outcast from day one, and had no close friends.  

That being said, you didn’t really like hurting other people or doing typical villainy stuff, but you liked fighting. It gave you a feeling of pushing all of your aggression and bottled up anger onto somebody without killing them, whether it be heroes, vigilantes, or hell, other villains. It wasn’t healthy, but you had nothing else, really.  

 Cue in the physical form of your recent excitement, the BMI hero who resembled a matryoshka doll and was kinda cute in his big form, no lie. The two of you had met near his agency with Sakura petals floating along with the breeze, and honestly it reminded you of a shojo manga. Well, him minding his own business until he’d seen your pathetic attempts at shoplifting.

He was there for a fight, and at first you overestimated him, thinking that he would go down quickly, but you were wrong. So wrong. You weren’t the best of the villains, but you held your ground, the both of you panting and sweaty and for the first time, you liked fighting against a hero.

Of course being a self-called villain full of dirty tricks up your sleeve, you were good at vanishing, leaving him to shout curses at you, but you didn’t care. From then on out, the two of you would continue ironically meeting in places. It was either you stumbling into him walking around town, eating Takoyaki, or him catching you...not doing anything villainous because you sucked at it, but you know, it’s the thought that counts.  

Then the snark happened.

“Where did you get your hero outfit? From the thrift store?” You quipped.

“As in a matter of fact, I did. Saw yer mom there buyin’ old man’s underwear, Sweetheart.”

Kami help you.

“You don’t even know my mom! But yeah, she’d probably do that.” You answered.

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah, she’s kind of weird.”    

      You weren’t on the top of the villain lists (or if you were on the list), but you were good at holding your ground, and he seemed to know of you, and thus seemed as if he was always making plans to run into you. You were no better. You had gotten into the habit of causing small trouble around his agency, and your battles were always lengthy, full of snark, and you admit you kind of liked to feel him push you against a brick building, leering down at you before the whole thing started.

Anyway, you’ve always managed to either escape or he’d just throw up his hands and turn and walk away in a frustrated huff, like that one time you fell flat on your face, accidentally dodging his spear-formed punch. It was one time, but he didn’t let you live it down, asking about your nose.

 Oddly enough, the other pro-heroes, Miruko and Hawks, would just glance at you, sigh and then leave, muttering something about idiots, Eraserhead would just guide the children away from the two of you with a blank look, and Endeavor would just avoid the two of your messy fights altogether, opting that he ironically wasn’t going to deal with “an old married couple”. Whatever that meant.

It didn’t stop smaller, weaker heroes from trying, though. Trying to be hotshots and bring you in. Of course, they failed. You didn’t listen to Linkin Park while training your ass out in the cold rain just to be brought down by some punks.    

Tai-chan, or what you’ve become calling him (thanks for Hawks just silently handing you a paper with his name on it, the absolute Wing-man), noticed. Although he was a hero and didn’t dissuade the young ones from chasing after villains, he did basically say that anybody around his area was his to battle. It melted your heart, a little.

It didn’t stop the two of your bantering and bickering, or sometimes he’d say something, trying to be serious but it comes out as silly, that you couldn’t help but burst into a fit of giggles and he’d get flustered, having a cute blush that you couldn’t help but just eat up.

It was like an odd addiction, you wanted to see more of him, even though it was through unhealthy things such as your fights, you wanted to hear more corny catchphrases, see his eye twitch of annoyance (you were a little shit), and finally, the both of you panting in defeat as he angrily munched on Takoyaki, snarling as you stole one, but let you have it, and so on.

You weren’t sure if you were becoming an unhealthy masochist, or you just really liked him. Perhaps both, because your heart would flutter every time you see him smile around his sidekicks from afar, and then clench because you were so far gone into the life of a villain, you knew that you could never have that life. Be a hero, or have him at least as a friend.

Such sad thoughts did plague you, and it must have shown through, because you would halfheartedly remark to his commentary or sometimes, you just wouldn’t show up for a day. He noticed. He was keen like that, and so to your surprise, he would take your fights more seriously, as if trying to keep you there, not letting you keep running away.

Honestly, it was a little sweet, but your poor heart was getting confused at your little game, and didn’t know how to honestly feel for him.      

Of course, everything must come to an end, doesn’t it?

 He was leering down at you with a cocky smirk, clothes ruined, showing off whatever he had, a boot stepping onto your chest, rain soaking through his soft hair and splattering your cheeks. An odd feeling came over you. Something you weren’t familiar with, but through your mask, you felt that it was safe to just take a mental picture and burn it forever within your brain.

 The fight was different. You were sick all week with the common cold, and when you returned from your little hibernation, weird gossip and rumors were littering about near the FatGum Agency. It was either you left him because you were getting bored, or you had found another hero to play with, or you were finally caught. Whatever it was, he seemed to be excited, relieved(?), and at the same time furious to see you. He demanded where have you been, and feeling increasingly snarky and not sure what to feel with your pining dumbass heart, you retaliated that you were on a vacation from his stupidity.

 Yeah, you lost.  

“Finally caught ya.” His voice rasped out and hot damn did that not help with the odd searing warmth churning within your guts. The feeling of losing always frightened you, for you weren’t sure whether or not your family would actually give a damn. Yet, you felt elated and calm. It was over, he could finally call the shots, and you could just sit in a jail cell and atone for whatever petty crimes you committed.

“So you have. How’s the weather up there, you giraffe?” You couldn’t help but ask, and the boot on your chest pressed a tiny bit down in annoyance, but he made sure that you weren’t hurting.

“Just fine. I think I stepped in shit, though.”  

You couldn’t help it. You began laughing, and to your astonishment, he did, too.

“I missed ya.” He admitted as the both of you calmed down. That surprised you.

“I thought you hated me?”

He gave you a look.

“You’re annoying, and persistent, but not evil. Like a flea, you keep on bouncin’ back up, and I can’t help but not dislike ya.” The words sent a warm tingling up your spine, and you found yourself smiling softly.

“I couldn’t hate you either, you know. You’re the only one,” You swallowed, and the continued as his eyes now focused onto yours. “who I can freely just be myself around with.”

“Whaddya mean?” The tone was softer, now, but ever so curious. Well, it’s a good time as any to release your tragic backstory while in the drizzling rain.

“My parents are both villains, and so I was raised as one. I could never be friends with heroes, or really anybody. I could never dream to be a hero, because of my background. It’s shady from the start, who in their right mind would pick a hero who could just end up being like their parents?”

 The words tumbled out of you, feeling the metaphorical weight be lifted off from your chest, as the rain quickened it’s pace. An uncomfortable silence washed over the two of you, and already you were regretting the word vomit that had just spilled out of your mouth. You said too much, you cringed inwardly. You should have just kept your mouth shut, now he’s going to pity you-

“You know what? Fuck it.” Your eyes widened with shock and confusion as the so-called “DadGum”  had just said one of the worst bad words.  

“Did you just-”

“Your parents can jump into the nearest jail-cell. You,” His eyes glinted with an unknown darkness that set your insides ablaze. “have two options. Either you can platonically become a hero-in-training  and live with me, or you can be mine. My hero-in-training, my roommate, my lover, just, mine.” He put an emphasize on the word, and your face flushed despite the chilly autumn rain.  

You would be surprised, but you oddly weren’t. Endeavor was right, the two of you were basically an old married couple, bickering and bantering, always staring at each other when one was sure the other wasn’t looking.

“Alright. I’d like us to try...um...being more than...rivals?” You stammered. He cocked an eyebrow.

“I didn’ just pour my heart out for ya so ya can deliver that. Try a lil’ harder.” He scoffed.  

“Fine, fine! I..I like you too-”

“Love.”

“Love, you too! I just...I dunno, always wanted to find an excuse to just be around you.”

“That’s sweet, an’ I love ya too, Sugarplum, but ya weren’t here for a whole week-

“I was sick with the common cold!”

“N’ then these shitty rumors started-

“Don’t act as if that’s my fault!”

“So I’m feelin’ a lil’ snappy an’ hungry today, but not for food.” He humored you.

“What does that mean?” You tested the waters, knowing the truth, already. He took his boot off of you, crouching down to give you a predatory smile.

“I won’ touch ya unless ya beg me, but our lil’ cat’n’mouse games have had me riled up, for a very, very long time.” He leaned in and whispered in your ear, and you couldn’t help but swallow thickly with want as he continued.

“N’ now we’ve discussed our feelin’s, I’m all just wantin’ to tie you to my bed.” He finished as he continued leering at you as if you were the sheep, and him the wolf. You didn’t blame him, you’ve been wanting this, too. It was a little fast paced, but several months of mutual pining would probably do that to you.

 “I mean, at least take me out to dinner, first.” You tried to joke. He just shrugged.

“Done.”

“What? I’m a villain! My family are villains!” You tried to argue. He gave a smile mixed in with a humorous look.  

“Villain? Last time I checked, starin’ at candy from the hand of a baby, isn’t puttin’ ya on any wanted list. You’re mine, now. Doesn’t matter what yer shitty family thinks. I’ll fight’em, too.” The sentence made your heart swell, feelings of joy and acceptance fluttered within your for the first time in a long time, and you let yourself give a warm smile. His eyes softened, as he helped pull you up to your feet, letting you lean against him as you maintained your balance.

    “Alright. We...we can just be a normal couple? How does this even work?” You tried out. He glanced at you.

“Yeah, we’re goin’ to jus’ be a normal couple. Well, you’re gonna train with me, so that we can eventually get ya a license. N’ you’re gonna kick your parent’s asses, not as a villain or a civilian, but as a hero.” He started off softly, but then a more rambunctious grin took over his face at the prospect, and to be honest, you felt like that was a good idea, spitting everything that they’ve taught you, back in their faces as you live life the way you want it, with your partner, of course.

Speaking of which.

“So...we’re just going to continue getting soaked?” You asked, trying to keep yourself from shuddering.

“Yeah, but not in the rain. C’mon, my place.” He gruffed, and you found yourself eagerly nodding.

You weren’t sure how this happened so fast. First you entered his apartment, shivering, then he said that your clothes needed to be washed, aaaaand you were here, on his bed, naked, chilled, and your hands completely cuffed to the post as he was staring at you with such a dirty, hungry look, you felt thrilled by it.

“You want this? Say no an’ we’ll stop.” He offered one last time.

“I want this.” You admitted, and he gave off an almost predatory grin as you watched in amazement of him shucking off his clothes at the pace of the speed of light. Hot damn, he was huge, and beautiful. He grinned at your unabashed stare, crawling towards you on the king-sized bed, opening your legs as he slotted himself between them.

“So pretty, and wet.” He chuckled, giving you little time to think as his thumb swiped at your leaking opening, causing you to gasp.

“I think that I’m gonna eat you out.” Was the only warning you were given as your legs were pulled further apart, and the next thing you knew, he was on you. Your hands jerked against the fuzzy handcuffs as you felt him licking long, hot, and wet stripes from your opening, to your clit. You couldn’t help but mewl as you subconsciously fought against your restraints, thighs trying to clench around him as he gripped them, keeping them apart as he suckled at your clit.

You felt helpless as he was giving you such an intense and dark stare while he was driving you to the edge, gauging your teary-eyed reaction while you bit your lips, hands squeezing onto thin air as you felt yourself getting closer and closer, hips bucking wildly.

Then, he stopped, and you growled into a pitiful whine, causing him to laugh.

“How does it feel, causin’ others to wait?”

You huffed. He seriously couldn’t be that petty!  

“Common. Cold.” You let out a hiss, and he gave you an unimpressed stare.

“Are ya givin’ me an attitude?” Was a warning.  

“Yeah, I am!” Like a bull, you ran right into that red flag. He grinned, a little darkly. It honestly would’ve scared you a little, if you weren’t so turned on.

“Yer still a lil’ too feisty. As much as I love it, I ‘ave other plans in mind.” He gave a false pout, and your stomach churned with awaited excitement in what he was going to do, next.

“I’ll be back. I’m going to the store. Be good, okay?” He gave your surprised look a dark smirk, and you couldn’t help but growl. The audacity! You loved him, but the audacity! You couldn’t help but look on with bewilderment as he gotten dressed, opening and closing the bedroom door shut as he left you all alone and tied up.

 You waited for what seemed forever, pissed off and bored out of your mind as you felt increasingly cold and still wet. You refused to cry. He said he’d be back, didn’t he? Then why do you feel so helpless and lonesome. You felt tears shed with relief and frustration as he finally opened the door to the bedroom, black bag in hand.

“Bastard!” You hissed, and he eyed you with a sympathetic expression mixed in with a little guilt. He got undressed and set the bag next to the two of you, crawling towards you and wiped away the wetness on your cheeks, kissing them and your mouth as he held a gentler expression. He held your chilled frame against his too warm one, nuzzling you as he soothed your ruffled feathers.    

“I know, Darlin’. I’ll make it all better for you, I promise.”  He kissed your nose as he gathered the blankets to surround your skin, still letting you be exposed, but at least you’ll be a little warmer.

“Do you wanna continue?”

“Yes.” You said without hesitation, feeling relieved after seeing his softer side, and still wanting release, and received a wet, dirty kiss. You moaned into it, feeling his hands rub your breasts, squeezing them rather roughly as he toyed with the nubs with his roughed up hands. He broke away too soon, leaving the two of you panting as his dark, feral look returned as he eyed you.

“Bought you a lil’ somethin’.” He turned away, rummaging through the bag. You eyed it wearily, hoping that he didn’t go too crazy. He pulled out a bottle of strawberry lube, that was good, and...your face flushed.

“Ever used these, before?” He held out the little vibrating bullets for you to see. You shook your head, and he chuckled.  

“You’re very vanilla, ain’t you?”  

“I-I…” You stuttered, but he kissed your forehead.

“What’s yer safe word?” He asked. Safe word? Why couldn’t the two of you have a normal first time, together? You thought about it.

“Grapes.”

“Why that word?”

“I hate them.” You shrugged.

“Fair enough. Alright, let’s get started.” He said lowly, opening the lube and bullets. He added some of the lube onto the bullets, attaching one bullet to your clit, and the other to your nipple with little pieces of tape. Yeah, you were confused, too, but he didn’t pay you any mind as he set the controller to both bullets to the side, flipping the switch to a low setting.

You let out a choked whimper as your clit was being stimulated, him leaning forward and enjoying the view of your wetness drenching the sheets.

“Such an eager slut.” He bit out almost darkly as his fingers spread open your labia.

“’M notta slut!” You protested, but it was on deaf ears as he had something else in mind. He generously poured a dime amount of lube onto his fingers, grinning down at you as the strawberry scent floated nicely in the room, mixing in with your own scent of arousal. You almost jolted as his lubed up fingers prodded the tight muscle to your vaginal entrance.  

“Damn, relax, you’re so fuckin’ tight.” He murmured, and through your lust-fogged brain, you wondered if anybody else knew about this side of “Dad-gum”. Although having a rough demeanor, he was gently opening you up, and you felt warmth blossom in your chest at the extra attention that he was giving you, glancing at you from time to time to see if you were alright.

You were more than fine. Five fingers deep, and a higher setting to the mini bullets, you were very close to coming. You rocked your hips in a desperate fashion, hands clenched tightly as the fuzz to the handcuffs prevented you from hurting yourself.

“You gonna cum?” He leered.

“Yes!” You bit out, and your stomach fluttered with excitement mixed with dread at that dark chuckle.  

   “Not yet.” He switched the vibrator off, and you swore you could hear yourself huff into an annoyed growl.  Tears of frustration threatened to spill, and he gave another sympathetic look. You swore that he was mocking you.

“It’s okay, alright? I’ll give you what ya want.” He kissed your eyes, holding your frame close to him as he then rubbed his cheek against yours.

“Patience, Baby. I’m hurtin’ too. Right now, let’s let ya cool down while I mark up this pretty skin of yours, alright?” He kissed you gently, and you were now aware of his own need. It was swollen and looked angry as precum was headily dripping onto the sheets. It twitched as you realized that he knew that you were staring. You licked your lips and he groaned with want.

“See? Hurtin.”. He then continued to do as he promised, kissing you slowly as his hands rubbed against your skin, squeezing here and there as your hands itched to touch him. He paid your whining no heed as he licked at the juncture at your neck, biting it harshly, suckling at the blossoming bruise as his dick twitched at your wanton whine and buck of hips. He kissed the spot gingerly, eyeing your debauched frame with greed as he lowered his mouth to another spot.

“Damned young punks, trying to bring you in. They should know better. You’re in my territory.” Bite. You winced, but keened with need as he lathered the blossoming bruises with gentle kisses.  

“Every inch of you is mine.” His eyes glittered almost darkly as he tore away from his work. Oh yes, you were looking nice. He didn’t do too much, but the love bites he imprinted onto your neck and clavicle helped soothe the possessive ache that he had. He knew that you wanted to touch him, too, and was thrilled at the aspect.

“You wanna touch?” He prodded. You keened into a hurried nod, not caring about your pride.

“Please.” What a cute sound, how could he refuse? He relented, and you were on him. It felt as if he was guiding you, letting your hands roam, doing your own squeezing at his stomach, biceps, and pecs while you kissed him feverishly. He basked in your attention, letting you claim your prize for being such a wonderful and patient Sweetheart. Of course he kept you from touching his dick, promising that another time, definitely, so you relented in favoring of returning his little marking game.

He swore he could come untouched by your less rough touch, eyeing him to see if he acknowledged that you were doing a good job, to which he couldn’t help but find that adorable, as well.

“You’re so good for me. So patient and sweet. I’m going to breed you, now. Would you like that?” He hummed, and you swore that your brain stopped and your core clenched with need. One sentence should not sound that hot, but it did.

“Yes. I would like that.” You answered a little too gently, and he hummed with approval, kissing you.

“If you don’t, remember that we don’t hafta do anything that you don’t wanna do. Remember your safe word?” He inquired, you nodded and told him.

“Good. You wanna be bred n’ dirty-talked? I gotcha some Plan B at the store, didn’t really think about condoms. Is that fine?”

You nodded, telling him that you liked both ideas. To be honest, you didn’t mind being marked up in such a way. Not with your pent up lust and feelings of love towards this sadistic Himbo of a man.    

“Lie on yer back. I wanna see ya.” He growled out, and you hastily complied.

“Now, tell me, how experienced are ya, really? Not hard to notice that you seem to be learnin’ a few things.” He gave you look in which you couldn’t decipher.

“It’s dumb.”

“No it ain’t. Doesn’t matter to me if ya have history.” He kissed your knee softly as his expression gentled, and you felt yourself relax.

“Your possessiveness says otherwise.” You tried.

“’Cause they’ve been houndin’ around what’s been mine in my territory. Your earlier experiences don’t count. You’re mine, now, and I’m planning on keepin’ it that way.” He smoothed your leg gently despite the dark edge in his tone of words. Really, you feel elated.

“So no judgment?” You inquired.

“None.” He promised.  You believed him. Feeling a bit more braver and relaxed, you could trust him with your secrets. You didn’t know a way how to make it less cringe-worthy to admit, but you wanted to tell him, anyway.

“I never really had to time or opportunity.” You found yourself saying, and that’s all he needed to hear.  

 His eyes flashed into something that you couldn’t decipher, but it didn’t matter. He wan onto you, kissing you slowly yet frequently, retouching every place where he could reach with a more gentle approach.

“Don’t make a kink out of it.” You groaned. He chuckled lowly.

“Why not? Ya get to do this, once.”

“It’s a social construct, and dumb. It’s not like my personality is magically going to change after having something within me.”

“I agree completely, Dearest, but I find it endearin’ and sweet that you’re willing to share this with me.”  

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” You huffed out softly.

“Might be, but my dick’s trying to convince itself to do the thinkin’.”

“Maybe you should let it, then.” You prodded, and he then gave you a dark grin.

“As ya wish. Don’t forget yer safe word.” Was the only warning you had.

 You were already loosened and wet, and although his actions resembled of that like an animal as he kissed you with fervor and biting some new areas, he was gentle when he decided that it was time for the main course. Coating himself with a generous amount of cold lube, he hissed as he turned on the bullet vibrators, letting you get stimulated as he breached your vaginal opening, teasing and prodding the muscle as it opened up for him.

You felt the hot, thick head of his dick slip inside with little to no restraint, surprising you as your legs widened further, allowing him to sink in further. He was big, and your walls had to stretch to accommodate him, but you wanted it so damned badly. It hurt so good, you thought. There was a little pain, but the delicious stretch heavily outweighed it, and it reached places that you didn’t know that just needed to be itched.  

Hot damn, did you feel stuffed.

“How are ya?” He then asked, and then you realized that he was fully seated inside, and you could tell that he was desperate and hot as you were.

“If you stop this time, I might actually kill you.” Your threat was light, but he swallowed thickly at the intensity of your stare and heated gaze of want.

“Good?”

“Wonderful. Move.” You all but demanded, but he eagerly complied, letting your too-tight walls massage him.

“Fuck! So tight. Might keep ya like this, re-tie ya to my bed. Fuck ya full n’ heavy.” He couldn’t help but growl out the words, being rewarded with the tightened clench of your walls.

“Ya like that? Bein’ my personal cocksleeve? Belly round n’ breasts heavy with milk?” His movements jerked faster as he squeezed your breast that didn’t have the bullet pleasantly buzzing against it. You couldn’t help but nod, arousal dripping onto the sheets as the bullet roughly buzzed against your clit, the both of you feeling the painful aching need for release. His hips were all but snapping to meet your thrusts, balls slapping against your ass, as he engaged you into a filthy kiss as the lewd sounds and scents echoed and filtered within the walls.

Your head felt light and the both of you were covered in a sheen of sweat, he opted to weave his hand into yours, holding it rather almost gently as he moved as if a man possessed. Yours hit first, gripping you and clenching you out of nowhere as you let out his name in a frantic shout, clutching onto him ever so tightly as your head fogged into a sharp relief that left you into tears from finally able to cum. He was no better, hips faltering as he felt you embrace your own orgasm, causing his mind to almost go blank as the movement of his hips bucked into a frantic state. He huffed out, calling out to you as he held onto you tightly, anchoring the both of you into a freight train of orgasmic bliss.

You whimpered out your oversensitive clit and breast, hitting the damned power button to those little bullets as you came down from your high. Taishiro collapsed next to you as the both of you were panting, trying to catch your breaths. You were so drowsy, but you really didn’t want to sleep in your own spunk and messes.

“Dirty.” You whined, and he laughed, kissing you.

“Let’s get cleaned up, then. Know ya don’t wanna, but you could seriously get an UTI if ya don’t use the bathroom.” You agreed, tearing off the bullets, and pulling your weakened state up to use the bathroom as he decided to lazily change the sheets, throwing the used sheets, toys, and the black bag in the corner, somewhere. He would deal with that, later.

He caught you as you stumbled into him from coming out of the bathroom. Gently, he maneuvered you to where you were snuggled up against him, a heavy blanket re-warming up your cooling skin as he hummed, gently playing with your hair as he kissed you softly.

“Ya good?”

“Tired n’ fine.” You mumbled, peeking up to look at him. He smiled gently.

“I looooove you.” He singsonged, earning him your own gentle smile and a soft kiss.

“I love you, too. Go to sleep.” You playfully griped at the last part, and he chuckled in compliance.

…………..

Bonus:  Yeah your parents were pissed, but you were a hero, and their opinions didn’t really count, anymore. They knew your potential, so they cleared away from you as you and your fiance moved into a safer city. End.

……….

 Here’s my poor attempt at being more versatile in writing kinky smut. Hope it’s not too much cringe, I’m usually too vanilla :’)  

[papermoonloveslucy]

INDOMINATABLE LIFESTYLE

July 16, 1972

HOLLYWOOD - Indomitable funny girl Lucille Ball, with a messy scoop hair the color of an orange popsicle, flashes on the scene in a sad predicament. 

She's got a lame leg.  

Lucy hobbled from her sleek silver Rolls Royce and into the yellow cubbyhole dressing room which is a sunny retreat near the Lucy set which Is crawling with rehearsal activity. 

On the surface, everything's ha-ha-ha. But the fact is that surgeons have inserted pins into the shattered leg bone suffered last year in a Snowmass Peak, Colo., skiing accident. The leg brace is a semi-intolerable ball and chain. But, as always, crippling situations must be mastered. Lucy's inextinguishable spirit pulsates despite the physical handicap. 

Lucy Is showing a smiling color photograph of herself in a flowing white hooded cape coat rimmed in fluffy fox. The picture, radiating exterior happiness, doesn't reflect the inner pain. Lucy's leg, in a hip cast, is disguised under a blanket. 

You know the familiar Lucy grin? She's grinning it and saying hell no, baby, she's not ever going to ski again. She couldn't stomach another goddam ordeal like that. Besides, on the immediate horizon is an operation to remove the pins.

Lucy, being Lucy, bears the cross with humor: "Honey," she says, "skiing is just getting into those nice winter clothes and being a show off." The burdensome subject of broken bones is dismissed with frivolity. 

Brainy Lucy, now 60 and president of a $30 million corporation, is an American institution. 

But, like all super-successful females, she vibrates complex contradictions. The fashion plate - who initiated her career as a Hattie Carnegie hat model - is a winsome dumb broad on the tube. In reality she's tough executive who barks orders left and right. Staffers instantly do like the lady says. God has spoken. Lucy runs a tight ship, but she is more respected than feared. 

Yet Lucy is softie with a heart of spun sugar. Trappings, which she has in predictable abundance, aren't a psychic crutch. 

"Success is knowing that if everything were wiped away tomorrow, it wouldn't really matter. I wouldn't die if I lost my things," she says. Then the awesome simplicity: "Dear, I still go home and let the cat out" 

Lucy has always run her home life with a liberal hand.

Desi Arnaz, Jr. is currently Involved in well-publicized liaison with Liza Minnelli. There was a previous Desi scandal regarding Patty Duke. People gossip a lot here because they live in a city where the major industry is make-believe and fact and fiction become blurred. 

Lucy isn't deaf to the talk about her son's romances: 

"What the hell, they're having a fine spree. I just hope it lasts for Desi and Liza. They don't have time to get married. Their scene is the world and they're swinging in there. I'm the one who talked marriage to them. One night I said: Look, kids, don't get married too soon. They were upset. Desi countered with the observation that you don't have to settle down when you get married. So I go -  well, that's true son! The subject of marriage just never came up again. They're a nice couple. They present themselves well without becoming asses. I've told the kids to do as they wish." 

Lucy, who was a good friend to Judy Garland, makes no bones about her affection for Liza. And once Lucy loves, the feeling lasts. After 20 years of marriage to Desi Arnaz, there was the divorce. Still Lucy looks people straight in the eyes and says the present Mrs. Desi Arnaz is a "wonderful woman." And she can see it in her heart to rent ex-husband Desi studio space on her lot so that he can work in the shadow of a success they initiated together. 

When Liza Minnelli was a child, Lucy kept a scrapbook of Liza's activities at play, in ballet school, attending birthday parties. There, in a battered old photo album, are the precious pictures. Liza didn't know about the book until recently. Desi brought Liza home and Lucy accidentally-on-purpose left the book on a coffee table. "Oh! Wow!" exclaimed Liza through a flow of uncontrollable tears. 

Lucy; "And I said to Liza, honey-baby, I told you I've known you for a long time. Didn't you believe me?" Lucille Ball speaks in an affectionate aside about Liza and the loyalty is simultaneously visible and audible: 

"That kid is liable to explode any minute. I just hope I'm around to pick up the pieces. No one knows why she works so hard. She's made it her objective to clear her mother financially. Those b--- lawyers took her --- really took her. But she's paying back every damn cent herself." 

Life is, of course, an inexplicable mixture of tears and laughter. Buoyant Lucy can see the funnies in everything. Love, she says, is looking beyond someone's minor faults and caring passionately despite the irritations. Lucy's 80-year-old mom, Dede (Desiree Ball) lives near Lucy's sprawling colonial house in Beverly Hills. Dede has a longstanding idiosyncrasy which used to drive Lucy wild but is now an amusement. 

In that familiar screechy scratchy soprano voice oozing feigned stupidity, Lucy sing-songs the dialogue; 

"I say to Dede: Hey Dede, I've got a pain in my elbow. Dede always says: 'stupid, it's because you're not eating right!" Honest to God, if you've got a pain in your big toe, it's not because someone stepped on it it's the food. Drives you nuts! Dede really has a thing about food. The other day I went home and cooked a batch of chicken. 'Chicken!!" says Dede, 'you know it's gonna make me sick.' Of course Dede eats more chicken than anybody. Next day I say: Dede you been up all night throwin', huh? Naw," says Dede, the chicken wasn't half bad.'"

The ridiculous story illustrates two things Dede taught Lucy early in life. One: That without good health you've got nothing. Two; That without a non-pliant, thoroughly independent attitude, you've got less than nothing because show business kills the weak. 

Lucy is in constant awe of Dede. When Lucy built the five-story ski chalet 9,800 feet on the side of a Colorado mountain she was certain Dede couldn't take either the long trip or the altitude. Besides, once you get to Lucy's place, there are a million icy steps to climb before you make the front door. "Even the dogs stop to get their breath," says Lucy. "But when I start huffing, Dede looks over her shoulder and sorta snaps: Aw, Lucy, you're a sissy!' That woman is my challenge." 

Does Lucy ever get down? Do the burdens of crushing disappointments halt her enthusiasm even temporarily? "Jesus," she says, "I cry. I cry a lot. Then anger sets in. When I'm angry, I become a fighter. And I always fight to win." 

When Lucy talks to you, she taps your knee in a natural gesture of intimacy. Her gaze is through black fringed x-ray eyes that sear through trivia. She smokes her cigarette twirled ceremoniously between her thumb and forefinger. Lucy always spews gut honesty: 

"Love is a great peace of mind. There's no panic in the relationship. It's never having to prove yourself. Love is not playing games. Baby, some women have to put up with mysterious absenteeism. That's always a sign of hanky panky-ism. Christ, I never have to worry where Gary is." 

Gary is Gary Morton, Lucy's husband and executive producer. Suddenly he bursts into the dressing room and asks for the afternoon off. Lucy's going to work the full day. Her answer is affirmative, but she doesn't use the word "yes"; "Just don't forget to tell the cook to get out the steaks and have a big salad ready." 

The show is all in the family. Lucy's sister, Cleo Smith, is another producer. Lucy is having the talk-about twosome of Desi Jr. and Liza written into a script. Little Lucy, who has been Mrs. Phil Vandervort for a year, is a regular. She, too, bursts into the dressing room to use the john. The jeans are already embarrassingly unzipped. As she whizzes by she comments only to her famous mama: "Jeez, I though you were alone!" 

But an emergency is an emergency. Lucy, quick to seize the humor, quips: "Our togetherness is only occasionally splintered." 

In retrospect, Lucy is pleased with her real-life mother role. "I've been one hell of a mom," she says. "I always knew where they were every minute." Lucille Ball is a profound woman who often uses great simplicities to get her points across.

Once, when the kids were small, a nurse observed to Lucy that Little Lucy was calling Desi Jr., "fatso," and jabbing him in the stomach-when no one was looking. Desi didn't hit back because mama had said never to hit defenseless little girls. Lucy relives the old conversation with her daughter, first announcing each "part" and changing voices to portray the back-and-forth swing of conversation: 

Big Lucy: "Got a problem, Little Lucy?" 

Little Lucy: "Me? No." 

Big Lucy: "Let's talk. Whose fault is it? No, actually it doesn't matter whose fault it is. Next time one of you is hurt, I'm going to hit the one who is hurt." 

Little Lucy: "What does that mean, ma?" 

Big Lucy: "You'll see." 

Soon there was another battle. As usual, Little Lucy elbowed Desi in the stomach and he howled, Lucy illogically whacked Desi hard on the rear and his screams got louder. Little Lucy immediately became hysterical: "Mom, don't hit him! For God's sake, why are you hitting HIM?" 

Lucy delivered the punch line which is the credo of their life: "I hit Desi because you let things go too far. Never let things go too far. Someone innocent always suffers. Do you understand?" 

That was the end of sibling squabbling. Forever. 

Once, before her chorus girl days, New York-born Lucy worked as a fashion mannequin for various Seventh Ave. houses. She's still got a clotheshorse figure but she won't splurge on couture: "I'm just one of those normal working women who doesn't go in for hifalutin’ fashion." 

Lucy haunts three fabric shops in Beverly Hills and has local movie set seamstresses make all her clothes. "I'm not the type who dresses and goes out," says Lucy who long ago graduated from the silly-but-necessary movie star game of being seen in the right places. 

"Once when I was in Paris, I bought a designer dress grey flannel, I think and wore it out from the salon to my car.  When I sat down the damn thing was so strictly constructed that the neckline popped up to my nose. I was on my way to Switzerland and I mumbled to my driver, God, did that designer expect me to stand up on the plane?" Lucy can afford emergencies. When she got to Orly, she bought a dress from an airport boutique and changed in the ladies room. 

And, so, the sweet saga of Lucy continues, there are no plans to quit. The word - retirement - isn't in her vocabulary. "I can't imagine doing nothing," she says. "If you don't keep moving, you're buried." 

The beauty is still there. The complexion is like alabaster. Lucy confesses that she washes her face with Ivory soap, colors her own hair and occasionally gives herself offbeat facials." 

"Honey, the idiot who said to put honey on your face never explained that it has to be mixed with cream," she says. The face melts into that wonderful famous grin. "I put honey on straight from the goddamn jar and it closed my pores for a month." 

That's lovable Lucy. 

[Ed. Note: The original photographs were degraded by copying so similar shots were substituted as close to the originals as possible.]

#   #   #

[lochrannn]

Warnings: Sexual Content (M Rating)

Characters: Lila Pitts; Diego Hargreeves; Allison Hargreeves; Klaus Hargreeves; Hargreeves Siblings (background)

Relationship: Lila Pitts/Diego Hargreeves

Roommates AU; Fake Marriage; Slow Burn; Mutual Pining; Emotional H/C

Chapter 4/?

-

Of course it’s been something that, at the very back of her mind, has been causing her no small amount of stress, but Lila has been doing a very good job of just completely ignoring the topic. Only, when her co-worker Nandi, a med student from South Africa, asks Lila how much longer she’ll be staying in the country, now that she’s dropped out of her degree, does it fully register with her that her student visa has expired and she’s into the last three weeks of her grace period. After that, she’ll be in the country illegally.

Lila smiles at Nandi brightly and tells her that she’s not made a decision yet and that she’s looking at a couple of options.

On her break she goes out into the alley and bums a smoke off one of the teenage busboys who seems to be working at the restaurant that’s right next to her café, even though she’s not had a cigarette in years, and contemplates what to do.

And predictably she comes up short.

So after her shift ends, she heads to the public library and finds several volumes on immigration law for research, because she doesn’t want to ask one of the librarians.

After an hour of frustratedly thumbing through the books, the only short term solution she has found is to get married to a citizen.

She’s back at square one with no idea what to do, when she leaves her books on the collection cart and heads out into the rainy evening.

By the time she walks in through the door, she’s not sure if she’s just breezed straight through panic and worry or whether she’s just too numb to feel it, but at the smell of cooking food, she immediately follows the aromas to the kitchen and for a moment gets distracted at the door by the sight of Diego gently stirring something on the stove.

Apparently sensing her arrival, Diego twists around to look at her and says, “Oh hey, I didn’t hear you come in.”

Lila drags her eyes up to meet his and belatedly realises that she’s unabashedly been staring at his arse in a pair of perfectly fitted jeans.

“Uh…” she says dumbly.

Somehow she’s got so used to him not being around over the last few days that coming home to someone in the flat is completely throwing her for a loop.

“I’m making gorditas,” Diego says, having turned back to stirring and making idle conversation, “d’you want some?”

When she doesn’t answer right away, still dealing with the whiplash of her day, Diego turns back around and asks, “Hey, you ok?”

Lila scrambles for an answer and, trying to avoid telling Diego that the sight of him all sexily making food has made all the thoughts in her brain combust, she accidentally lands on the other truth and blurts, “Yeah, uh, fine… just dealing with some visa troubles!”

Diego’s expression turns into one of such genuine concern that Lila instantly regrets being the cause of that.

“Ah shit! That sucks,” he says. “Anything I can help you with?”

Lila snorts loudly, “Thanks, but I doubt there’s anything you could do… short of marrying me,” she adds in a sarcastic tone.

There’s a beat where Diego looks at her with a completely blank expression and she knows it’s not the cooking that suddenly makes the temperature in the small kitchen go up a couple of notches. Then he makes a face that’s half smirk and half shy smile and something behind Lila’s ribs cracks at the sight and she hopes she never has to see it again, because she hasn’t the foggiest idea how to respond to it.

“Ha! Yeah,” Diego says then, pointing at her with his spatula and then turns back to the stove again.

“So, uh, d’you want some?” he asks, with a strained kind of casualness, not actually looking at her, and this time Lila is quicker to answer, “Yeah… yes, thanks! I’ll just go get out of my work clothes!”

Lila hurries into her room and then leans against the closed door for a moment. What the fuck is wrong with her? Only a few days ago, she was accusing Diego of being weird and now she’s joking about getting married. This is ridiculous!

She pushes off from the door and begins taking off her work clothes to change into something more comfortable.

Lila’s only justification for her odd behaviour is that she really is stressed out by the idea of having to leave the country. It’s not like she couldn’t start out again somewhere else, Australia maybe, the main thing is, she knows she can’t go back to England, too many bad memories there, but she just doesn’t want to.

She’s been floating about her whole life, and even though what she has going on right now isn’t exactly conventional, to her it feels like a respite. Maybe it won’t be permanent, but here in this city, with her job, and her flat, she’s been feeling significantly more settled than she has in a while and she doesn’t want to have to give that up so soon.

If only she could just marry Diego…

Is that really such an insane solution? Lila thinks to herself, while pulling on a pair of leggings.

She would pay him, of course, and she knows he needs the money. It’s a terribly weird thing to ask your landlord/recent lover/friend but Lila just cannot conceptualise any other solution. And he’s been remarkably patient with her antics over the last few days, maybe he’s actually a lot more relaxed about this sort of thing than she thinks. She can at least make the offer, worst case scenario they go back to being awkward around each other for a few days and she’s sure they’ll be back to normal in no time at all.

Lila makes her way back towards the kitchen and finds Diego already in the process of piling food onto the small table that barely has any room in the first place.

There’s a plate with little flat and round doughy things and a few dishes with different steaming fillings in them. There’s a decidedly spicy smell in the air and Lila can’t help the way her mouth starts watering.

“Yo, don’t just stand there, take a seat!” Diego says with a chuckle and Lila heads straight for the table and says with a laugh of her own, “Don’t have to tell me twice! Fuck that smells amazing! Did you make all of this yourself?”

“Uh, some of the fillings are made up of leftover takeout from the last couple of days,” Diego answers with a bit of a bashful shrug as he sits down across from her and shuffles around some of the dishes so he can squeeze one more onto the table, “but I made the gorditas and added some shit to the fillings,” he amends a bit more confidently.

Lila takes one of the little dough pockets and immediately starts spooning in different salsas and pastes. She doesn’t ask what’s in them, just picks up the dishes and gives them a sniff to decide which ones she wants.

“Mmmm!” she hums almost desperately when she takes her first bite. She looks up at Diego who is looking back at her with a glint in his eyes and chewing delightedly on his own food.

“Fuck, this is good!” Lila says, rudely not even having swallowed all of her mouthful.

“I know, right!” Diego answers with a chuckle.

They fall into easy conversation. At one point Diego gets up to get two beers from the fridge to wash down the food and Lila tries to get comfortable on the hard kitchen chair by tucking one of her feet underneath herself and her knee up under her chin.

After they run out of gorditas, Diego uses some slightly stale bread to finish up the rest of the fillings and then gets up to pile the dishes into the sink.

“I can do the dishes!” Lila offers, seeing as she’s been mooching off of Diego’s labour all evening.

“Nah,” Diego says, “dinner’s on me!”

As he starts filling the sink with water, the sudden domesticity of the scene reminds Lila of her plan to actually ask Diego for help.

She excuses herself and heads back to her room and while she’s rummaging through her drawers looking for her cheque book, her pulse starts speeding up and she tries to calm her nerves.

If he says no, she thinks she can handle the fallout of that, though she’ll still be lost for a way to stay in the country. But right now, she’s almost more anxious about what happens if he agrees. But tonight has been one of the most pleasant evenings she’s had in months and probably the most fun she’s had with anyone – she’s strenuously not thinking about the amount of fun she had sleeping with him. Diego’s her only real friend in this city and if after everything they can manage to hang out like this, then, Lila tries to convince herself, they can be pretend married for a while without it being too awkward.

Diego’s drying his hands on a dishtowel when she comes back into the kitchen.

“Diego?” Lila asks, tentatively.

“Mh?” He doesn’t properly acknowledge her as he reaches up to put the clean plates back into the overhead cabinet.

“Earlier… you asked if you could help me with my visa troubles…” Lila feels ridiculous. She’s always been confident and able to ask for, occasionally even straight up demand things. She has a sneaking suspicion that if it were anybody else, she’d just slap the cheque down on the counter and inform them of her plan, but somehow here with Diego, she’s just so unsure of herself.

Diego turns around and leans against the stove top. “Yeah?”

“I… uh… I’d pay you of course! I have money. Turns out I don’t have the same sense of pride as you,” Lila says with a slightly wistful shrug, “I took my mother’s money when she died, felt like it was the least I deserved after the way she treated me my whole life…” she drifts off.

“What do you want to give me money for?” Diego asks, crossing his arms but there’s a peculiar expression on his face that Lila can’t quite read.

“Will you…” She cuts herself off, she can’t ask him like that, “Would you marry me? You know, for money, so I could get a visa?”

Diego’s eyes go really, really wide. Clearly he did not expect her to ask that question and Lila immediately decides to backtrack, “No, you’re right, that’s insane! Forget I asked, I’m sure I can work something out somehow. I just need to do a bit more research and then…”

“Yeah, ok!” Diego interrupts her firmly and Lila’s mouth snaps shut.

She stares back at him and Diego looks no less harassed than when she first asked but he also seems resolved.

Lila panics. “You really don’t have to, I’m sure there’s loads of options. And honestly, if I’m just careful about it I’m sure nobody’s going to find…”

“I’ll do it!” Diego interrupts her rambling again and Lila can’t quite believe her ears.

“Diego, it’s illegal!” She says almost desperately.

“Are you trying to talk me out of it now?” Diego asks with no small amount of exasperation. Then he laughs, but with very little humour in it, “To be honest, the United States government and I have a slightly different understanding of what illegal means in this context.”

That gives Lila pause and she raises her eyebrows, questioningly.

Diego looks down at where he starts scuffing the toe of his shoe into the grout between the tiles, his arms are still tightly crossed.

“I was born in Mexico. From what I can piece together my mother brought me over the border when I was only a few months old. She died soon after that. The only things I have my father to thank for are my siblings and my citizenship. So yeah, I’ll help you.”

-

They’ve agreed to go down to city hall the next day to apply for a marriage license. No point in delaying the process, this way they can start the visa proceedings before Lila is officially illegally in the country.

After agreeing to get married the ease with which they spent the evening flies out of the window again and they quickly retreat to their separate rooms.

Diego’s lying, still dressed, on top of his comforter waiting till he can’t hear Lila moving about anymore before he’ll head to the bathroom to get ready for bed himself.

He doesn’t regret agreeing to Lila’s plan, not really. It’s fucked up that she has to even resort to something like this to avoid getting thrown out of the country, and honestly, had she asked he would have said yes even if she hadn’t offered him money.

But it’s less messy this way, a clean business arrangement. He already feels just a little bit guilty, because he’s not sure he didn’t also agree out of some sudden selfish fear that she’d leave. He pushes that thought back down as well, because what should he have done, say no just because he can’t quite handle his feelings for her? That wasn’t really an option either.

He breathes out heavily when the light in the hall goes off and gets up from the bed to go brush his teeth.

[walpurga-nacht-academy]

Djinn’s Bride! ~A Celebration of Love~

Part 9

[Walpurga Nacht Academy]

[Djinn’s Lamp]

Djinn: Woken up from my centuries long nap, I am summoned by a mage of great power back to the realm of the mortals. As a djinn of incredible power and looks, it is no wonder that I am so sought after. To create life from nothing, to bring my Master uncountable riches, even making dancing elephants and camels - that is just scratching the top of the list of my accomplishments. And yet, how dissatisfied I feel with it all. When the call of the lamp pulls me away, I can’t help but think ‘Ah, what menial job will I be made to do again?’ It’s really a drag.

BUT! Instead of the king that I expect to see, or the cunning vizier, I am faced with eight beauties. And what’s more - they all want to marry me?! How did a poor, handsome djinn like me end up in this situation?! Well, if you want to find out-

Marcia: Ha? What the hell are you doing now?

Djinn: Haaaa, and I was just on the last line too. Gotta start from the top, I guess. Don’t interrupt me again, girlie. Ahem. Woken up from my centuries-

Marcia: Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey!! I’m serious right now! What the hell is this super lame monologue? It gives me the shivers just hearing about it! Seriously, just when you couldn’t get any creepier too… Oops, didn’t mean to say that aloud~

Djinn: To think you would be so out of touch with things… Alright, listen up, girlie, what I’m doing right now is a recap! I’m reminding our lovely audience of what just happened in the previous episodes so they get caught up to speed. So, to get back~ on~ track~! Woken up from my cen-

Marcia: Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait! Wait just a sec! Audience? Recap? Episodes? This isn’t a TV show, you know?! And why’d you make yourself sound way cooler than you are! Don’t think I’ve forgotten your betrayal just that easily! Ugh, I was supposed to get rich in a flash and yet… My heart is still wounded! Women don’t forget slights that easily!!

Djinn: Hm, you’re really not getting the appeal are you… Gonna have to deduct points for that… Hm…

Rosa: Heeeeeeey! Stupid, greedy Marcia!! Stop being useless and pay for your mistakes! Repent! 

Marcia: Grrrr! You sure like to weigh in a lot for a moron, dumb, idiotic, moronic Rosalia!

Rosa: HEY, YOU SAID MORON TWICE!! I HEARD YOU!!

Marcia: Bleh!

Djinn: Hm, kinda childish too… I’d have preferred a more mature style…

Marcia: Geh! You’re taking that into account too?! Haaa, you’re sure taking this seriously…

Djinn: Obviously! This is my future we’re talking about after all. On that note…

[RUMBLE]

Marcia: THE FLOOR IS MOVING AGAIN, UGH!! AND IT’S A PLATFORM TOO??

Djinn: Now!

Marcia: !!!

Djinn: IT’S TIME TO STAAAAAART!

Marcia: …

Djinn: … Hm?

Marcia: Eh?

Djinn: Well?

Marcia: Huh?!

Djinn: Your introduction! In~ tro~ duc~ tion~! It’s essential to getting the fans to root for you, girlie! That’s how you make it through the show~

Marcia: … No, I still haven’t got an idea what you’re talking about… But if it’s about making a pitch, I’m your girl! Ahem! 

[Hey, hey, hey~ Marcia Pyroeis reporting for duty! I’m a third year with a bright future in store, I promise ya! Getting along well with both my juniors and seniors and always knowing how to get out of a pinch! That’s me!]

Hehe, so whatcha think, hm? A keeper right?

Djinn: Hm~ It’s got energy. It’s got charm. I LIKE IT! FULL POINTS!

Marcia: YAHOO! Now, then how about you come closer and-

Djinn: Not so fast!

Marcia: Huh?! What now?! You said “FULL POINTS” didn’t you?! So why-

Djinn: Hm, that’s true. But you can’t think that would be enough! Love at first sight is just a fantasy, you know?! That’s why, we gotta check compatibility too!

Marcia: Co-Compatibility? Ugh, this got a lot more annoying all of a sudden… Do we have to, haha? After all, I’m already heads over heels for you! Anything more and I just might lose my mind~

Rosa: Woah, that scummy power of hers comes in handy at moments like this!

Blanche: It’s… definitely something impressive…

Djinn: Woah, woah, woah, for real?! Hm, I shouldn’t really be doing this, but I guess you’ll be getting a few extra points there, girlie!

Diana: He’s easy to fool.

Marcia: Really~? You’re way too kind~ Now then, now then, how about we-

Djinn: Not so fast! 

Marcia: ???

Djinn: You definitely have a lot of the right qualities. BUT!! I’m not an easy sort of djinn, you know?! I just don’t give my heart out to anybody! That’s why before we tie the knot you must first undergo a SURPRISE SCENARIO!

Marcia: EH?! SURPRISE- EH?! EEEEEH?!

Rosa: HE CAME UP WITH SOMETHING RIDICULOUS AGAIN!

Djinn: To properly test a couple’s compatibility, you can’t just stop at first impressions! There needs to be understanding and cooperation. That’s~ why~ THE SURPRISE SCENARIO WILL TELL US ALL WE NEED TO KNOW! IT’S FOOLPROOF!

Marcia: Crap, and I thought I had this in the bag… Ugh, this is so annoying… But, if it’s just some stupid question, I’m sure I can breeze through it… Alright! Let’s give it a shot! I’ll show you I’m the best suited for this role, dear~!

Agatha: ……. gross….

Djinn: Ooooh! That’s it, girlie! That’s the spirit I’m looking for! That sort of energy - IT’S FANTASTIC! 

Marcia: Hehehe, it’s definitely gonna be my victory, you moron…

Djinn: Ahem. This is your scenario: Adil and Farah have been dating for 5 years now after meeting at a company party, where he accidentally spilled some punch on her dress and was chastised thoroughly for it. Because it was an outfit from a well-recognized brand, Farah demanded that Adil take care of the dry-cleaning himself. Unfortunately coming from a low standing family he could not afford the fee for it, so he decided to make a deal with a corrupt bank manager to get the money in exchange for smuggling a few precious magical gems into the embassy which will be used to blow up the building once the ambassador and the king of the country are inside. Though he’s reluctant to agree he remembers the sick mother who’s at home, and realizes that he cannot burden her with this issue since she has also just started attending college to get her degree as a bread researcher. In order to get access to the basement of the building, Adil calls up some old acquaintance from his time in the magical police who helps him secure an invitation thanks to his cousin who is actually the Prince of a foreign land. They pass Adil off as the royal confectioner, a role he is able to perform thanks to his previous career as a successful movie star actor. On the day of the heist they are able to sneak into the basement, but on their way out they bump into Farah who turns out to also be the Chief of Security for the king that’s coming to visit. In the ensuing scuffle Adil is suddenly reminded that Farah is in fact his long, lost childhood friend that he hasn’t seen since the hurricane hit their town and almost razed everybody to the ground. They embrace tearfully and realize that they have feelings for each other~

Romantic, right~?

Marcia: WHAT’S THE HELL KIND OF SCENARIO IS THIS?!

Djinn: Hm? What do you mean? It’s obviously a romcom!

Marcia: ‘OBVIOUSLY’?! HOW IS ANY OF OBVIOUS?! MY BRAIN IS JUST HURTING FROM TRYING TO WRAP MY HEAD AROUND IT!!

Djinn: Hey, hey, that’s super rude! It’s a great premise with a cool hook! Anybody would be able to relate to them! Especially Adil! Isn’t he just super cool?

Marcia: Haaaaaaaaa?! What the hell is cool about him?! Rather just what the hell is his deal?!

Djinn: Eh? His deal? Is there something you dislike about him?

Marcia: Dislike?! There are a ton of things I dislike about him! Like, what the hell is up with his thinking process?! He’s gonna make some shady deal with a corrupt banker for some dry-cleaning fee?! Isn’t that way too extreme?! He could have just used a cleaning spell!!

Djinn: ….

Marcia: Or rather!! You’re telling me that somebody who’s been in the magical police and was a famous actor didn’t put some money aside for emergencies?! What kind of negligence is that, huh?! And how old is this guy to have held so many jobs and still be on the bottom rung of a company, huh?! It makes no sense!!

Djinn: …

Marcia: This whole situation is just senseless!! Ain’t he complicating things too much with his insane logic?! I don’t get it!! I don’t get him at all!! Who even came up with this type of story?!

Djinn: … Me…

Marcia: … Huh?

Djinn: It was me. I am the author of “Super Lovey Dovey Secret Agents Who Are Also Childhood Friends, But On Opposite Sides of the Battle Raging On Between Their Two Companies, So They Must Make sure Their Supervisors Don’t Find Out About It”.

Marcia: Crap!

Rosa: IT’S EVEN GOT A RIDICULOUS NAME!

Djinn: You know, I always fancied myself a bit of a screenwriter. This was supposed to be my magnus opus… My masterpiece… The story that would mark my debut in the literary world… and yet…

Marcia: Just joking~!

Djinn: Hm? 

Marcia: Hahaha, you took all that seriously! It was a joke! All just a joke, I swear! You’ve completely misinterpreted my words~

Rosa: SHE’S ACTUALLY MAKING A MOVE TO TRY AND SALVAGE ALL THIS?! SERIOUSLY?! IS SHE FOR REAL?! 

Djinn: … Is that so? 

Rosa: EEEEEH?! HE’S BUYING IT TOO?

Marcia: Yeah, yeah~ That story!! It was, uh, super cool! 

Djinn:... Really?

Marcia: Of course! It was, um, sooooooo dynamic! A lot of things happened and… Adil was such a cool character! Yeah! Yeah! Really, uh, carried the story and all that! 

Djinn: …

Marcia: You have such a gift for this!! Seriously! I’m in awe of your talent!! Hahahaha…

Djinn: … I see.

Marcia: Hm? Se-See what exactly?

Djinn: It’s been made clear to me just what sort of compatibility we have.

Marcia: Th-That soon?! Hey, you barely even gave me a chance to work my char- I mean! Don’t you think that it’s still too early to tell, hm~? We should get to know each other a little better before that~ Hey, hey~!

Djinn: Hm, no, rather I think that it’s [TIME UP]!

Marcia: EEEEEEEEH?!

[CLICK]

Rosa: SHE GOT CAUGHT IN THE HOURGLASS TOO!!

Cass: Mi-Mi-Mi-Miss Pyroeis!!

Diana: …

Blanche: This is…

Vita: How unfortunate~

Djinn: And done~ Now, let’s see who’s next, hm~?

Rosa: WAIT JUST A MOMENT!

Djinn: Hm? What is it, fluffy hair? Do you wanna volunteer?

Rosa: E-Eh?! No, no, no, no, no! No way! Absolutely no way!

Djinn: Mm, maybe it’s for the best. Flat types like you are kinda…

Rosa: HEY!

Blanche: Excuse me.

Djinn: Oh, you too, bunny girl? Man, I sure am popular~! Having so many girls after me~

Blanche: … A-Ah. In truth, there was something that I was curious about…

Djinn: Sure, sure~ Go straight ahead~ If it’s from my future cute wife then any request is A-OK with me!

Rosa: Then-

Djinn: Ah, except asking to drop out of the wedding, of course! 

Rosa: Ugh!

Blanche: No, it’s rather… Just what are your specifications for a ‘wife’?

Djinn: Specifications?

Blanche: Yes. I understand why Himalia-senpai was locked up, but even though Marcia was… well, even though she acted the way she did, was just that the reason you locked her up?

Djinn: ‘Just that’?! You don’t get it, bunny girl!

Blanche: Hm?

Djinn: It’s all about compatibility! Com~ pa~ ti~ bi~ li~ ty~! If we’re not a good match then getting married is a no go for me! I don’t wanna get stuck in a loveless relationship and suffer at the hands of somebody cruel~ My heart is too fragile for that!

Blanche: I-I see… then, just what exactly did you find displeasing about Marcia and Himalia-senpai specifically?

Rosa: Ha?! Blanche?! Don’t tell me you’re seriously thinking of going through with it?! After all the time you protested?!

Diana: No. It’s not that.

Rosa: Huh?

Diana: If we want to strike, it’s best to be forewarned. 

Rosa: Eh?

Cass: Um, it, me-means that we should ga-gather as much information a-as possible, Miss Mo-Morgainne…

Blanche: I think it would be beneficial for both of us to understand your preferences a little better, don’t you agree?

Djinn: Hm~ You’re making some sense there, bunny girl. I guess I have nothing to lose from coming forward about this… Alright then! Now listen carefully! I’ll explain to you why compatibility matters!

You see, more than anything… I think violent women are super scary!

Blanche: Huh?

Djinn: Seriously~ When I saw that Amazon pick up that marble table like it was nothing at all, I got super freaked out! That thing was at least around 400 kg, you know? 

Rosa: THA-THAT HEAVY?! WHAT IS HIMALIA-SENPAI?! A MONSTER?! A GODDESS?! 

Djinn: Aaah, just seeing it come flying at me made me so nervous… And I’m made of smoke too! No, no, a violent type just won’t work!

Blanche: I… I suppose that’s understandable… Then Marcia?

Djinn: Hm? The tomboy? Hmmm, well, I have to admit I like the type who’s full of energy. Seeing a girl smile while giving her best really brings out that healing quality~ But…

Blanche: But?

Djinn: WOMEN WHO ARE TWO-FACED ARE NOT CUTE AT ALL!

Blanche: !!!

Djinn: Seriously! Changing her mind like that just because she found out that I was the author! There’s no way I could be able to stand a woman like that!

Blanche: I see, that is-

Djinn: If she started lying from the first and kept at it, that would have been another issue! At least my feelings would have been spared like that! But being told so rudely that my work is bad… NO, ABSOLUTELY NOT THE SORT OF WIFE I WANT!

Blanche: …

Rosa: Hey, isn’t it kinda all about him again?

Marcia: Blegh! Like I could even pretend to like that sort of badly written thing in the first place! There are limits of what you can ask from people, you know?! You moron! Idiot! Lame!

Rosa: Hey, are you seriously still goi- EEEEEEH?!

Marcia: Pffft, the expression you’re making now is even more stupid than usual, Rosalia! Guess it’s nice when you have no brains and a pretty face, huh?

Rosa: GRRRRR! BEING LOCKED UP IN A HOURGLASS IS NOT PUNISHMENT ENOUGH FOR YOU!! YOU OGRE!!

Marcia: Haaaa, you’re still barking? Hahaha, now that's a funny sight, you kno- HUH?! WAIT! HUH?! YOU CAN HEAR ME?!

Rosa: I CAN HEAR YOU! I CAN HEAR JUST FINE! I CAN HEAR YOU GOING ON ABOUT HOW STUPID I AM, YOU JER-

Blanche: This is… 

Djinn: Hm? Ah, so you’ve noticed, didn’t you? 

Rosa: Noticed? Noticed what?

Diana: June’s is soundproof.

Rosa: Soundproof… Huh? You me-mean the hourglass?! Eh?! I-Is that even possible?!

Agatha: Stupid… amoeba… doesn’t… even… know… her… own… dorm… subjects… heheheheh

Rosa: HAAAAAA-

Blanche: Is this related to the complaint about her being violent…?

Djinn: Hm? Well, it’s rather… she’s just kinda annoyingly loud, you know? Loud women are also a no-go for me! I like my peace and quiet~

Blanche: I see…

Rosa: Eh? Hey, is it just me or is this guy’s list of preferences all over the place? 

Diana: Mm.

Cass: It’s, um, ra-rather confusing…

Rosa: Right?! He says he wants somebody energetic then he turns around and goes [I like my peace and quiet~]. It’s completely contradictory!

Blanche: It’s… not ideal… But we must try to figure out a way to escape from here still. Or else…

Rosa: Gulp.

back | next

[lavendertwilight89]

“Bite me” 🤣

only like... a billion years later...

Also posted on AO3 in Asks and Answers

Oh annnnnnnnd THERE IS SMOOTSSSSSSSS 

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There was an infinite number of reasons Inuyasha hated Kagome going back home. Firstly, it shouldn’t be her home. She was home when she was in their era--or rather his era… either way, the future shouldn’t be where she called home. Her home was with him--or by him. Whatever.

Secondly, he wasn’t allowed to just go anywhere he pleased--specifically, to follow her around while she was at school or with her friends in town. What if she got into trouble and he wasn’t around to save her? She was always tripping or finding a way to get kidnapped or hurt--she was a walking accident! 

Thirdly, it fucking smelled terrible. The pollution and other modern smells overpowered his fucking senses. He often left with a migraine. Stupid future shit. No wonder demons weren’t around--they wouldn’t fucking survive.

Fourthly, he… well… he just missed her. When she wasn’t around. Near. God, she was turning him into the biggest wuss on the planet. 

They’d been traveling together for just over a year now; their friends and they had been to almost every corner of Japan. Naraku was still at large, but he had been quiet for quite some time. Probably just as frustrated as they were with the lack of jewel shards to be found. 

Shockingly, Inuyasha and Kagome had gotten into another fight. Not like the fights they used to have--noooo those had simmered down since their first year of travel. These were just based on… differences of opinions. Such as she, wanting to go home because she had a test and him, saying tests were pointless and she didn’t need to go.

Unfortunately… she won. Per usual. Only because she could fucking sit him and call it a day. So, he reluctantly followed her because--it wasn’t like he had anything better to do than watch the slayer and monk ogle each other or watch the slayer beat the tar outta him when he made to flirt with another woman.

Pass. Hard pass.

Even though he wasn’t supposed to, he trailed after her when she went to school. She was in something called ‘high school’ now and had to change uniforms. He didn’t really like the blue uniform. It reminded him she was getting older. Things were changing…

In good and bad ways. Good ways were, she was becoming a fucking woman. Her scent was beyond intoxicating each passing month. Yea, she had her cycle when she was fifteen but… now his demon sensed the maturity of her body taking form more and more. It took everything and more not to pour out his undying love for the woman and rut her in the middle of a fucking forest. Like an animal. But who was he kidding? She didn’t like him like that… Yea, they cared for each other. Yea they had kissed… but she was just--trying to save him. Yea, they’d hugged but she hugged Sango and Shippo… at rare times Miroku. He may be engaged but he wasn’t married yet. 

Another good change was they didn’t fight as much. Or as hard.

Bad ways… she was growing up. She wasn’t going to want to travel around forever. According to her, she wasn’t marrying age yet in this time, even though in his, she was ripe for the taking. But he knew she had suitors. Plural. All that could offer her way more than he could. He had what? An asshat brother who wished he was dead? A dark half-demon that hunted him and his kinda ex-fiance person? An ex who was dead, haunting the lands until her revenge was exacted? Possibly longer? The clothes on his back and sword at his hip...Yep. He had the whole package. 

Meanwhile, Koga had a full wolf tribe, ruled the mountains… And… what was the fuckin’ kid's name? Hobo? Hoko? Hojo--that was it. Both the Hojo idiots from both times. They had perfect happy little lives. No drama. No demons. They could offer her anything and everything. 

Gods… he was doomed. He loved her so much. Kikyo? Pft. Yea, he cared about Kikyo--like a friend you owed because you accidentally kinda-got-them-killed-kind-of thing. Guilt--that’s what Kagome called it. He felt guilty and felt he needed to make it alright.

Anyway, with the lack of action, she wanted to come back to her time, catch up, and shit. Blah blah blah… He knew she could sense him. Her powers had increased, another good change. But she didn’t sit him or come out and yell at him. In fact, she actually did manage to come up for lunch.

“Hey, I figured you’d be hungry,” she happily greeted him.

“You’re...not angry?”

“You’re staying out of sight, why would I be mad?”

“Are you embarrassed of me?”

“Of course not! Why would you ask that??” She asked as she sat down opening her lunch. She took a rice ball and placed her container between them. 

“Well it’s not like you let anybody see me or anything,” he glared at the food. He actually wasn’t even mad at her or the food. In all honesty, he was angered by his heritage. He was surprised when he felt her cool hand reach up and grab his face to look into her beautiful caramel eyes.

“I don’t want anyone to take you from me… You know there aren’t demons in this time. I don't want to put you in danger because they would want you. They would capture you and... What would I do without you?”

His heart pounded so hard he wondered if she could hear it with her human ears. Her eyes darkened and her lips parted from that soft smile. Her breath hitched and she bit down on her silken lip and all he could think about was devouring it.

Then he heard the door open and he pulled away from her, throwing his hat back on. She blushed madly and turned to see her friends coming out onto the roof with their lunches. Fucking perfect.

“Oh, h-hey guys,” she stuttered.

“Heyyyyy, are we interrupting anything?” The one named Eri smirked.

“NO!” He yelled, likely way too loudly and fast. But she seemed so flustered by what almost happened and he didn’t want them to think she was the idiot who got carried away.

“H-how are you guys,?” She asked with her fake smile. Damn. He hurt her. Again. She got caught up in the moment, and he took advantage of it. 

“Hojo’s coming up,” Yuka said with a gleam in her eye.

“Uhhhh…” Kagome started.

“I can go,” Inuyasha muttered.

“No!” She looked at him like a deer in headlights and gripped his hand. “I-I mean--nooooo, don’t go! I thought we were going to share my lunch?”

He was blushing and staring at their joined hands when the Hobo came out. The boy stalled for a moment drawing Inuyasha’s attention and when their eyes met, he could tell Hoho was sizing him up. Out of habit to protect Kagome from other’s opinions, he tried to draw his hand away from her, but her grip tightened. What was she doing?

“Hey Hojo,” she greeted.

“Hey Kagome, how are you today?”

“Great! Inuyasha was in the area and decided to join us for lunch.” Was she lying?? Why?? Why wouldn’t she just tell them he followed her? This boy couldn't hurt him.

“Inuyasha? Oh--you’re the guy from the festival last year,” Hojo said as he sat down on the other side of her.

“Yea, one and the same,” he confirmed gruffly. Staring at the boy in front of him, he was surprised when Kagome held out a riceball for him. He took it from her with the hand she wasn’t holding and muttered his thanks.

“Oh, are you sharing your lunch?” Ayumi cooed.

“Kagome, you probably need more nourishment than that--here, why don’t we share--”

“That’s okay Hojo. I appreciate the thought, but I’m honestly not that hungry. He’s doing me a favor helping me out,” she laughed fakely.

Did no one else see the mask Kagome put on aside from him? He knew that she loved Sango, that she confided in her about everything. Did these girls know anything about his Kagome?

The rest of the time it was just idle chit chat. Nothing for him to really follow as it was mainly about classes they were taking. He noticed Kagome’s hand didn’t leave his though even when she would reach and take food out of her little box, her grip never lessened. To be honest, he loved the feeling of his hand in hers. Even more so because she was doing it in front of her friends.

When lunchtime ended, her friends got up and led the way to the door. She lingered behind them and told them she’d catch up shortly. Hojo sent her a passing glance, obviously hesitant about leaving her alone with him, but complied when she bid him a good afternoon.

“I uhm… I’ll see you when school's out, okay?” Why was she acting all shy now? She was the only one who gripped his hand in hers.

“Uh...sure. That’s fine. I’ll just wait here then?”

“Mhm,” she smiled softly and with a final bite of her lip, she turned and went back inside.

The school literally couldn’t end soon enough. He needed to know what the fuck was actually going on with her.

The hours seemed like they took forever--of course, that’s how it always was when she wasn’t right by his side. Again, the biggest pussy on the planet when it came to her. 

Maybe he accidentally dozed off from boredom. Watching the clouds wasn’t the same without the bossy spirited girl who actually appreciated the little things while he laid on his back beside her, merely just enjoying her presence, but he didn’t realize she was outside until he heard the dumbass Hobo call out her name. He rolled onto his side to peer off the roof to see what was going on. 

She looked startled and began to look around--likely lookin’ for him. She’d be fuckin’ pissed if he just leaped down from there then. After all, she did just admit it wasn’t about embarrassment, it was about the danger of him being taken from her. Humans were odd creatures--always lookin’ to learn more and more about something. He knew what she said was true. 

But that only meant that even if he were to follow her back to this time to be with her, if she really wanted to be with her family, they’d have no future here either. Not like she’d likely want a future with him. He needed to--he needed to keep his head on straight. Why let his hopes get raised for nothing? 

“Kagome! How about I walk you home! You’re probably famished and could collapse from that vertigo your grandfather called about last week.”

“Hahahaha...of course he did,” she smiled while he smelled her annoyance and anger. Kagome had mentioned her grandpa making up some rather colorful excuses to get to miss school since she was always with him. While he told her she didn’t have to go, she pointed out that she did. At least for her family’s honor. That was the only reason he let her still travel back and forth… well actually it was the only reason she actually wanted to. 

He noticed she looked around again and finally saw him on the roof and frowned slightly. Biting her lip and then turning to look back at Hojo she said loudly enough to where he heard her mention, “Inuyasha said he was going to meet me at the corner but you can join us.”

“Oh...I see. Kagome, can I ask you something?” They started to walk away and while he had demonic hearing, with all the other chatter and distance they were putting between them was making it difficult what the man-child was asking of his--no--not his--Kagome. Just--Kagome.

“Sure, what’s up Hojo?” 

Inuyasha sneakily leaped onto the track of the school and then up and over the fence onto the house across from them. He proceeded to jump down so he wouldn’t be seen but could listen in on their conversation.

“What is up with that friend of yours? I would have figured with your health problems he would have encouraged you to eat--not the other way around.” Inuyasha wanted to growl at the thought that he would ever put his own health before hers.

“Oh, honestly I wasn’t that hungry. We often share lunches. I’m obviously not starving.”

“Does he--he visits you when you’re in the hospital? At the shrine when you’re not well??”

“Oh--uh--yeah! See? He’s very concerned.”

“Does he not have a job? Did he drop out of school?”

“No, no, nothing like that. He’s actually very intelligent. He does uh… exterminations?” He overheard her nervous laugh. That was the truth technically. Demons were what summoned them from village to village in hopes they would come across a jewel shard. But the money was shared. They were a pack. It wasn’t his alone--even if it was, no one would feed, clothe, or house a half-demon.

“Oh he must be very fortunate then… do you think the chemicals are the source of what are making you ill though?”

“Of course not! Being with Inuyasha is--” He heard her cut off and at that point, he was standing at the fork in the road when she had mentioned he would meet them. “It’s uh…”

“Do you really like him, Kagome?”

“Yes… I just--I don’t know if he feels the same,” he heard her whisper, likely hoping he wouldn’t hear. But he did. And his head was spinning. She ‘liked’ him? Well duh, they’d been traveling together for over a year together. He hoped she would at least kinda enjoy his company. But did she mean--is that why--

“Oh! Inuyasha!” 

Fuck he was made! He brought his head up and saw them walking towards him.

“Hey,” he replied back gruffly. It wasn’t his intention for it to have been so mean… but he was officially frustrated and confused.

“Everything ok?” Kagome asked sweetly as she blushed while she stood before him. Damnit.

“Yea. Fine. Let’s go,” he replied as he turned away. She groaned slightly--the one she used when she got bad news. He turned back to look at her and she looked highly disappointed… She acted like she didn’t want him to hear her little confession. Obviously she was embarrassed by liking him so why should she be upset if he acted like he didn’t hear her?

“Say, Kagome. What are you doing this Saturday?” 

Would she be pissed off if he broke this kid's nose? Didn’t he just hear she liked him?? 

“Uhm…” She started. Oh, fuck no.

“She’s gonna be with me, twerp,” he stated firmly as he swung around and wrapped his arm around Kagome’s shoulders. She seemed to tense under the initial contact but then relaxed. Her breathing was a little erratic like she was nervous but excited… What a weirdo.

“Oh I see, did you decide this for her?” Hojo questioned.

“Pretty sure it’s a mutual agreement at this point, kid.”

“Kagome?”

“Yes, I’m sorry Hojo. Inuyasha and I have plans.”

“Kagome--why--”

“Why what?” Inuyasha snapped.

“Why be with someone who doesn’t tell you how they feel? Make you feel appreciated? Kagome--I’m in love with you. Please--let me prove that to you. Let me show you how a man should treat a lady.” 

It took all he had to not punch the little dick in the throat. How dare he say those things to Kagome!

“Look here you little--”

“Hojo--I like spending time with Inuyasha,” Kagome countered.

“But Kagome--”

“Just because Inuyasha doesn’t like me in the same way doesn’t mean we can’t be friends, Hojo. If I want to stay with him then it’s really not--”

“You actually like me?” Inuyasha finally asked.

Kagome turned and looked at him from under his arm. She looked confused and she stepped out to be in front of him. She looked embarrassed and uncomfortable but she never hesitated in her response, “Inuyasha--of course I like you. I love you. I thought… it was obvious.”

“Kagome, I--” He realized they still had an audience and glared with a growl in the little fuck’s direction. “Do you mind?!” 

“Kagome?” 

DID THE FUCKING BRAT NOT HAVE GODDAMN EARS?!?!

“It’s okay Hojo. We need to talk. I’ll see you tomorrow at school.”

“Okay. Take care, Kagome,” he waved as he headed off in the other direction.

Now they were standing there. In the middle of the road. Irony. 

“Kagome I--”

“It’s really alright if you don’t feel the same. I just want to be by your side. As--as long as you’ll have me.”

“Why though?”

“Why--why what?”

“Why do you like me? I’m kind of an asshole. I always say the wrong thing, I always hurt you… I can’t offer you anything.”

Her soft cool hand on his cheek made him look her in the eyes. He could forever get lost in the chestnut eyes. Honestly, he almost did; he didn’t even notice she had started speaking.

“It’s not about what you have to offer me. Things--possessions-- they aren’t important to me. You are. Yeah, you’re rough around the edges but you only do that to protect yourself. I don’t try to take what you say personally, I know you don’t mean it. I just--I want you to know you don’t have to be afraid of me hurting you; I’d never harm you. I love you for who you are. My gruff half-demon protector.”

“Kagome…words--aren’t really my thing. But you kinda knew that, so--” He cut himself off and pulled her close to press his mouth against hers, praying to any fuckin’ God she didn’t sit him for acting without thinking. Though to be honest, he’d be lying if he said he had never thought about it. In fact, sometimes that was all he thought about. Along with some heated moaning and intimate places linked… Oh shit, his dick was already getting excited at the thought. 

Her hum of approval and fingers lacing through his hair, softly shifting his ball cap off his head brought him from his imagination. 

“Not here,” he barely grunted before scooping her up into his arms bridal style, leaping from the road to the roof of house after house until they arrived at her shrine. She urged him to take her up to her window where she crawled through before he entered after.

Once his feet were on the ground, he found himself engulfed in her embrace and her lips frantically moving against his. She flipped his hat off and whoaaaa--her hands were untying his haori. He stilled them and she whined but they needed to talk about this. Not just rush into whatever--well--that was wrong. He knew Kagome would never play with his heart. She had just declared she’d never hurt him; that her love wasn’t based on what he had or could give, it was based on who they were. But that was exactly why they needed to talk. 

“Hey--we don’t need to rush this--”

“Inuyasha I don’t want to wait until you’ve changed your mind about everything--” She proceeded to keep kissing him, his mind becoming this weird useless blob because damn if she didn’t taste fantastic. All his fantasies were coming true in just the movement of her lips.

“Fuck--Kagome--”

She hummed her approval over his vulgar words; weird as she usually was the one always conveying ‘manners’ but obviously she liked that she could make him helpless. 

“Damn, you shoulda confessed your feelings earlier, wench,” he smirked when he pulled away to trail kisses and drew teasing circles of his tongue against her throat. Her moan lit his cock on fire. Shit.

“Bite me, dog boy,” her husky voice sounded as he hovered over her shoulder. Pause. Did she just tell him to mark her? What did she know about demons and mating?? Or was she just teasing. This whole situation had gotten away from him. He began to pull back and her breath hitched. She was panicking.

“I’m not gonna go changin’ my mind but this is kinda--you don’t just--shit--sit down,” he ordered as he pulled her down to sit on the edge with him. Wrapping his arms around her to reassure her of his unvoiced feelings, he felt her snuggle into his hold. “Kagome… what you said kinda made me realize we--well--we need to try and talk.”

“What do you mean?” She seemed confused by his words. It dawned on him she had no idea she had asked him to mate with her. Not that he could blame her--demons didn’t just go around boasting… Scratch that. Normal demons that aren’t fleabags don’t blurt out mating rituals.

“What do you know of mating with demons?”

“Uh--I--” She turned as red as his haori and buried her face into said top and muttered her response, making his ears twitch to try and catch the muffled words she spoke. Oh, so she had just said ‘bite me’ as a retort… and totally missed the full meaning.

“Did the wolf-shit tell you all that? Because I may have to go skin him--”

“No! No! Sango had uh… mentioned it,” she admitted, biting her lip.

“Keh, ‘course that busybody did.”

“D-don’t be mad! I had asked her in all honesty…”

“Why didn’t you just ask me?” The look she gave him made him realize exactly why not. Disbelief. He was a callous asshole. Probably would have taken the wrong way… Whoops. “Nevermind. I got it. Are you sure this is something you truly want? What happens if once we complete the jewel the well closes? What if the old woman can’t get the village to accept us and we end up living in the forest? What if--”

“We can’t play a what-if game forever Inuyasha. We won’t know until we cross that bridge, but I told you the truth when I said none of that stuff matters… I don't belong here. This is just where I come to keep my family’s honor. My home is with you,” she said as she stroked her hands through his silky silver tresses. “Besides, I bet even if the village turned us away, Miroku and Sango would find a place for us to settle down--maybe her old slayer village.”

“Oh fuck, we’re stuck with them, aren’t we?”

“Inuyasha,” she warned him. He smirked down at her showing he was only teasing. They were friends. His family. Something he never thought he would ever have.

“We can wait to complete the mating ritual--it doesn’t have to be right now,” he said idly as he traced where he would mark her on her shoulder over her blazer.

“Are--Are you the one who is unsure?” She asked hesitantly as she shuddered from the light graze of his claws.

“No. This is the only thing I have ever been completely sure about my entire life.”

“But what about--I mean--”

“You can say her name.”

She averted her eyes and he pulled her chin back so she had to look him in the eyes. “I was going to become human for her. Mating is a thing for demons. Humans wither and die while demons live for centuries. I wanted someone to accept me--even if that meant I had to change. You’ve never asked that of me--fuck, you’ve begged me to stay the way I am. Kagome… I-- damnit, why is this so fucking hard!”

“You’re doing okay,” she whispered as her hands slid from his chest to his cheeks. “I love you, Inuyasha. I would be honored to be your mate.”

“I love you, Kagome,” he finally said as he slammed his hungry lips down onto hers. Her hands stayed on his cheeks as he moved from her chin to her hips to bring her closer even though she was perched on top of his lap.

She surprised him when she turned herself around to straddle his legs and pushed his chest down making him fall backward. How a tiny girl like her could ever startle him enough to knock him over was beyond comprehension. Her hands started to undo his haori and he made to undo the buttons on her blazer. It was sloppy, them removing each other’s clothing between their heated kisses, trembling excited fingers, and the awkward but hot as fuck grinding of their sex.

Her core was so fucking wet; he honestly couldn’t wait to taste her. He wondered if she tasted just as he imagined. Her fucking mouth tasted like cherries and honey--his fucking cock felt like it was going to fall off; he was so aroused. Between the bucking of her hips, the wetness of her panties, and the simple but teasing sweeps of her hand as she explored his body, he wasn’t going to last long. 

Losing his patience, he sliced through her bra and underwear and flipped her over so that her legs draped off the bed as he towered over her. Smirking down at her, he took control again as he began to devour her. All of her. Her lips, her neck, her clavicle, her breasts--he lingered there the longest, making sure the perky mounds were red, bruised, and thoroughly marked as his as he proceeded to lave and caress her toned stomach just before he found himself kneeling on the floor between her perfect shapely muscular thighs.

He didn’t even hesitate as he went straight to the weeping opening that was begging for his hardened length. It was a siren calling out to ship and he had to steer straight ahead and plunge into the abyss. And plunge he did--with tongue. A loud cry of his name was his answer in return. He brought one hand down to steady her hips as he continued to memorize her scent, her taste, and the sounds he could make her produce with abandon. 

Noticing there was a significant nub that she seemed to like to have teased the most, he moved his thumb to press and circle it as he used his tongue to continue to drink up her juices. It was clear with all her shaking and quivering that she was close to her orgasm. Her hands were frantically pressing his head into her folds, and her voice was fucking wrecked. She sounded like she had just run five kilometers nonstop and she was begging for water. And he ultimately would be the one to help her out with her thirst. With one last flick of his tongue, he switched his hand with his mouth and inserted one, then two, then three fingers slowly stretching her as he pumped in and out of her. His mouth found purchase on her nub and he sucked hard as his other hand softly stroked his own dick as he was fairly positive if he didn’t, it would burn off in the flames of arousal this woman was feeding him.

Thankfully her walls began to vibrate as she came undone around him and cried out his name in ecstasy. When she stopped twitching, he finally slunk back up her body and smirked down at the completely dazed look on her face. He couldn’t help but feel his confidence growing that if he could at least take care of her like that, happily sated every night, a home with Sango and Miroku, then he could give her the life she deserved. Not fully, but one she seemed to want.

Her hands reaching for his cock brought him from his wandering musings and damn--he’d never be able to go back to his own hand. Why was she so good at that?!? Fuck, shit, damnit, fuckkkk-- he grabbed her hand to still her motions and she gasped.

“Is--am I not--”

“N-nah, y-you are. Fuck, I almost just came all over you.”

“What if… I’d like that?”

His eyes widened and his ears perked up. What did she say? Anything he had to say went out the window when she shoved him against her headboard and engulfed his hardened length with her hot wet mouth. Some weird strangled sound came out his mouth as his hands went to her head without thinking. Fuck. Shit. He loosened his grip once he had some semblance of control and mainly kept his hands there to keep hair out of her way. Her tongue was swirling around him and he felt her spit literally drip down to where her hand was stroking him where her mouth couldn’t reach more than making up for the lapse of coverage. The other sneaky hand was fondling his sac and he literally swore right then it wouldn’t be the jewel, nor Naraku, Koga, his brother, or even Kikyo who would kill him--it was going to be Kagome. Because holy fuck he was about to fucking die. The ache in his stomach from not being touched was far gone and replaced with a burning passion; the tightening coil had grown taunt and he could barely tap her to gain her attention before it sprang loose. 

Panting, breathless, and grunting he managed a ‘“Comin’’, or some word like that. Either way, she hummed and that was what threw him off the edge. He could hardly not grab her head to keep her there, but he hadn’t needed to; she drank him up like he was producing actual milk and not seed for pups.

She pulled away from him and licked her lips, whether it was meant to be seductive or innocent didn’t really phase him as he grabbed her head and pulled her into a hard bruising kiss. Not only was he tasting her in his mouth from when he had given her pleasure but now he was tasting himself on her cherry red lips. Goddamn. He was the luckiest hanyou ever born. And he was already aggravatingly hard again.

“Mmmmm, Inuyasha,” she begged.

“What Kagome?”

“Bite me,” she pleaded. He lifted her to straddle him once more as he knelt on her bed and brought her face to meet his. Gazing deeply into her brown sparkling earthy eyes for any form of doubt, he exhaled and groaned as he lowered her onto his cock. Her arms wrapped around his neck and her breath hitched uneasily. Fuck. She was tight. Hot. Wet. He wasn’t even completely sheathed by her wet hot core and he felt her walls already stirring back to life as she moaned in his ears.

Once she was finally held on his lap by her hips, he was completely engulfed by her, it was an odd sense of fulfillment. Like everything in his life had led to that exact moment. Everything just suddenly fell into place. Every horrible unspeakable attack on his life, every mistake he ever made, any step he took, it all led to her--his Kagome. 

“You okay?” He managed to grind out around his gritted teeth. He was barely holding on for dear life; all he wanted to do was pound into her, but she deserved more--she deserved better.

“Perfect,” she sighed, groaning as she twisted her hips and good fucking Gods--she was fucking perfect.

She started to rise up on her calves to pull away from him and then slammed herself back down on him making them both whimper, groan, moan, growl as the fucking pure bliss of pleasure as she continued her actions with his help. He could never use his hand again. Ever. She had effectively ruined that for him. He would no longer be able to fantasize about her--it would always have to be her. Riding his cock. Like the fucking expert she was proving herself to be.

“Inu--Ya--Shaaaaaa,” she cried out as she tried to still her movement as she released all over his deeply embedded cock. Holy shit. If her coming apart in his arms was not the most erotic sight he had ever seen. It was the way her head was thrown back; her eyes were squeezed shut;her hair, damp from her sweat-glistened body, swaying behind her; her tight grip on his shoulder; her chest heaving, making her breasts bounce, and how her pussy effectively hid his dick.

“Ka--Kagome--” he stuttered, leaning his head down to her shoulder, pulling her back to him so their bodies were as close as possible as he continued thrusting into her. His tongue acted of its own accord as it brushed her shoulder all the way to the back of her ear as he huskily groaned making her return her own whimper. Her hands snuck their way from his shoulders to his ears--and if it didn’t feel fucking amazing. He moved his mouth back over her shoulder and kissed it lovingly before nuzzling it. “Ready?”

“Yes,” she cried.

His release snuck up on him from the beautiful sound of her pleasured filled voice. As he came, emptying himself into her womb, he bit down into her shoulder, marking her as his, filling her with his youki. He felt her reiki flow around him in return, caressing him, sheltering him with her love. And damn, if he didn’t feel like he was home.

The rest of the evening, they spent kissing and exchanging loving touches. Talking about their future, talking about their dreams. Inuyasha could swear he had never felt so relieved and happy in his entire miserable life. But then again, he didn’t have Kagome until the year before. He had never known what love and happiness ever was before her. And his life would never be miserable again, not with this amazing woman by his side.

[revengerevisited]

i found this vanqua fic the other day, it’s only a couple chapters but i like it so far. :3 it does have a ‘creator chose not to add warnings’ label though, so please be cautious. also baby-xemnas aka kotbysleep (nsfw) aka nekokat42 (also nsfw) is a much better vanqua artist than me so please check him out. X’D (heads-up those twitter threads are way longer than you think so make sure you see eeeverything~).

anyway, more wip art below the cut, plus my endless rambling (i talk about 18+ topics, just a warning)—

i’m still working on venqua week and i’ve got 2 more prompts to go, one i haven’t started yet and one i’m halfway done with—

~aaand yeah i’m re-using it for a vanqua pic too... X’D am i lazy, or just resourceful? you decide. ;P

but yeah, both of these pics will have an 18+ version as well. i admit i’m super anxious about posting it next week, as i’ve seen just how absolutely toxic fandom is on twitter. like, you thought tumblr was bad? i’ve spent the last few days preemptively blocking literally hundreds if not thousands of antis just so i can feel a little safer posting my content without some asshat calling me a pedo or telling me to kill myself over cartoons. XU i somewhat worry that i’ve accidentally blocked some people who were just joking around and weren’t actually harassing anyone, but it’s just so hard to tell sometimes. if i’ve accidentally blocked anybody here, just let me know so i can unblock you. :3 (idk why that sentence came out so sinister sounding but i’m legit being sincere X’D).

but seriously, idk when fandom suddenly got such a stick up its ass (around 2016-17 from my guesstimate) and decided aging-up a fictional character by a year or two is such a crime, but i guess that’s just the state of things. :T i could draw vanitas as a centaur or make him blond or whatever and no one cares, but aging him by one year? suddenly big problem! yeah, right. XP like, i know i said every character in kh is 17+ as of khmom (ignoring any weird timeline retcons of course), but heck i could make an honest case for the wayfinder family all being adults. hear me out—

it’s been 13 years since bbs, right? and for 12 of those years, aqua was in the realm of darkness, terra had some awareness while being possessed by xehanort, ven experienced some of sora’s life when he was in a coma, and vanitas was almost certainly in ven/sora’s heart as well, so all four of them could be said to be 31, 33, and 29 respectively. it’s not like their character models were any different when they were young teens as opposed to older teens, so can we really be sure they’re not all 30~ by now? heck, since ven is from the age of fairytales i could say he’s 1000 years old if i wanted too! (psst, it’s almost as if these are all fictional characters living in a fantasy world with time travel and whatnot and their ages are completely arbitrary numbers nomura made up on the spot, numbers which he has retconned before! :P).

now i don’t actually think they’re that old, but if people are gonna hassle me over a goddamn 2-year age difference, i might as well say fuck it and have fun with it, right? ;P it’s not like antis even know what the canon character ages even actually are, like when they try to say that skuld is underage when (assuming she’s subject x) she’d be around 28~ by now, or axel and saïx’s age. (maybe i’ll draw some saïx x skuld art and watch the antis lose their minds. ;P it wouldn’t even have to be nsfw to rile them up).

anyway, i do admit i’m feeling a little burned out on art recently. XP i’ve been trying to get one art piece out per week plus venqua week, and yeah it’s kinda taken its toll. i know this really isn’t anything anyone wants to hear, but i’ve been kinda thinking of moving away from fandom projects to work on my own original work. now, i’m not saying i’m abandoning a heart and a half nor anything as drastic as that! but i have spent like 2 years of my life on it just to get to the halfway mark, and i’m not sure i can spend 2 more doing only that.

i’ve got an original story idea that i’ve been working on-and-off on for the past 7 years or so, and i’m thinking of going back to it again (it does need a pretty big re-write). its main pairing is actually pretty vanqua-ish, now that i think about it. like, imagine the realm of darkness but instead of the heartless it’s infested with demons, and the main characters are the demon-slaying duo of a serious yet kindhearted half-angel and a feral, snarky half-demon. i even aged them up from 14 to 18 so none of my potential fans have to suffer the same anti bullshit that i have. XP

what else can i ramble about... oh, i got these super cute pins for christmas! :D the heartless is by xkirakira, and vanitas and aqua are by maxxmerch. they’re just so cute! X3 i hope everyone had a merry christmas and a happy holiday! i’ll see you guys later. ^3^ 

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*looks around sheepishly* ó3ò alright... confession time. spoilers for a heart and a half for the rest of this post—

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sooo~ i’ve kinda hinted at this before, but yeah i’ve always planned on adding a sex scene to a heart and a half; when i started writing back in 2018 i hadn’t realized how hostile fandom had become compared to only a few years ago, and it worries me that some readers might drop the fic because of it, or be angry with me over the underage aspect. :(

idk, i could go on about how i just wanted to explore every aspect of a romantic relationship, or how other disney/square enix characters married or had kids young (ariel, sarah hawkins, héctor, claudia strife, possibly jasmine), or how attempting to apply real-world rules to a videogame fantasy setting is inherently silly and pointless, but really it’s just ‘cause i love vanitas and aqua to bits and i just wanted to write a cute and funny mild sex scene between them (this fic is rated mature, not explicit, so much less graphic than confection affection), and at the end of the day they are just fictional characters, after all.

i guess all i can hope for is that i’m a skilled enough writer to pull it off in a believable way, and that my audience won’t be too put off by it. >_> i know vanitas and aqua have technically only known each other for about 2 months so it might not be ‘realistic’ for them to go so far into a relationship so soon, but i think it’s important to remember that ultimately this is a romantic fairytale, and other canon disney couples haven’t seen nearly as deeply into each other’s hearts as vanitas and aqua have (and this video also helped me feel better about it).

i also wanted to finish that nsfw venqua fic i started a few months back, it’s set just before the mark of mastery so yes ven would be 16. i suppose it’s a way of testing the waters to see what kind of reception i’d get (hopefully positive) before i get to that part of a heart and a half. i was also thinking of including some of the uh, ‘keyblades as erogenous zones’ aspect from this terraquaven fic as well... w-why are you looking at me like that?! it’s funny! *sweats nervously* o3o’

in all honesty, i’m probably just overthinking all this (which, knowing me, is almost a guarantee >_<) and i should just *ahem* let my heart be my guiding key, and just write what i want to write without worrying about it all the time. i just get so anxious so easily... buuut that’s not really news to anyone, now is it? ;P well, i think that’s the end of my endless ramble, thanks for reading if you got this far. X’D and i really hope i didn’t actually upset anybody about a heart and a half. ;_; i just felt like i needed to vent a little, but don’t worry about me, i’m doing fine. anyway, i really should stop typing and get back to work on venqua week, sooo... bye! X3

[morwensteelsheen]

i woke up this morning like “i want to write a story justifying why éowyn would have dropped her virginity like a hot potato” and anyways 4,000 words later i am Not At That yet but i am getting a better sense for what i think her life would’ve been like. it’s below the cut in its unproofread state lol also a brief reference to what faramir was up to circa TA3011 because i can’t help myself

Until her twelfth birthday, Éowyn had never thought of herself as particularly more of a girl than a boy. She was addressed as a (young) lady when she wasn’t being addressed by her kin, and had certainly been forced into dresses and skirts — though this came perhaps a little later than it should have, if the judgemental looks from the various women of the court were anything to go by; but outside of those instances, there really hadn’t been much to differentiate her from her elder brother. She had learned to use a sword just as he had, she had been taught (with limited success) to speak several politically-important languages, and had been given as free a rein on Meduseld and Edoras as he had at her age. Those years, she would later realise, had been some of the easiest and most contented of her life, even if the dark cloud of their parents’ passings ever hung over her.

On her twelfth birthday, in a firestorm of misfortune, everything had changed. First, and entirely by coincidence, Éomer had received his first posting, in Captain Grimbold’s éored stationed in the Wold. For Éomer, it was nothing but excitement — at long last he would be able to take off out into the world just like Théodred and would finally get to define himself as a warrior and as a man. That he would be going quite far away from home only heightened the excitement. For Éowyn, who had always been closesr to her brother than anyone else, it was the end of an era, though in exactly how many ways she had not, in the moment, fully known.

Second, she had her first blood. It was not something anybody had warned her about and, in that manner which precocious children are wont to take up, she attempted to solve the problem without knowing quite what the problem was. Hiding in her chambers, hands and knees shaking somewhat at the sight of unexpected blood, she had changed into something thicker (and darker in colour), and bundled the soiled garments up in a spare bedsheet. What little she knew of such matters told her that to be caught bleeding must be a sign of some personal failing, and so must be handled in the utmost secrecy.

There was, she knew, a small fire burning in the western gardens that morning to clear fallen foliage from the previous week’s thunderstorms. With luck and a little careful manoeuvring, she imagined she would be able to sneak her secret bundle into the flames without arousing any suspicions.

Creeping through the halls of Meduseld (mercifully quiet owing to the ceremonial changing of the guard happening later that day), Éowyn had accidentally stumbled upon the third thing that would change her life forever.

Even to her young mind, he immediately seemed a man of contradiction. Undeniably young, but somehow carrying himself with the comportment of a man several decades older; the dark hair and shorter stature of a Dunlander, but the presence and language of a man of the Mark. At first, he had not noticed her — he was so diligently listening to the King that it seemed to her he might not have noticed if an entire éored had passed him by. But when, failing to mask herself fully behind a passing attendant, Éowyn had been spotted by her uncle, the man’s attention had fallen to her entirely.

He was impeccably behaved, granting her the courtesy of a deep bow — despite few ever humbling themselves before such a young girl — and spoke to her levelly (not, to her ears, taking notice of her youth). In the practice yard and on horseback, Éowyn was accustomed to being spoken to with little regard for her age, but rarely was such deference extended into the stricter social edifices of Meduseld.

By any stretch of the imagination, it should have tickled her pride to be spoken to as an equal, it had, of course, been something she had longed for ever since she had first mastered stringing words together into sentences. Something, however, unsettled her about the entire interaction, raising hairs on the back of her neck and forcing her shoulders back into a defensive posture. She told herself that it was a natural consequence of having been effectively caught attempting to bury evidence of a misdeed, and that had she not first met him while she was clutching a bedsheet hiding a bloodied shift, she might have had an entirely different opinion of him.

After she was dismissed and scampered out into the gardens, she was immediately caught by Ceolwenne, the daughter of one of the Lords of the Eastfold who had recently arrived at Edoras to be presented at court. Ceolwenne, who Éowyn had, until that moment, had very little time for, had taken one look at the bundled sheets and Éowyn’s ghost-white face and immediately pulled her into a hug. Together, they had thrown the bundle into the garden fire, and Ceolwenne had, in perhaps flightier language than Éowyn might have preferred, explained what that blood had meant and exactly what she should do to prepare herself in the future.

It should have been a tremendous relief to her to discover that it was not a sign of moral failure and to find that it was something that women could speak to other women about in relatively frank terms. Instead, and for reasons then entirely unexplainable to her, it filled her with a deep, abiding sense of dread.

Thereafter, the changes in her life came on gradually, some of them so slowly that she hardly noticed they had happened at all. The years passed and she grew up. At least two or three times a year, she bled, but now she knew what to expect (though that did not mean she found it any less unsettling). Éomer and Théodred were away for greater and greater stretches of time, and the man, who she now knew as Gríma, took on a greater and greater role in the Golden Hall.

At first, Éowyn had imagined that the duties bestowed upon her were duties given to account for Théodred’s absence — welcoming local and foreign dignitaries, maintaining the daily running of the household, and seeing to the needs of the King. But with these duties came certain infringements on the life she had come to enjoy. Gone were the comfortable linen dresses and loose hair of her childhood, replaced by elegant velvet gowns and coiled, braided updos; no longer could she practice for hours on end in the practice and tilt yards, not when, as Gríma took care to remind her, the household could not cope without a strong commander at its helm.

With the finer gowns and the increased hours spent indoors came a change in how people spoke to and looked at her. After years of hoping to be treated as an adult, she began to learn that what she had hoped for was to be treated as an adult man, not an adult woman. Adult men could sit in counsel with her King-uncle, and could drink until late at night and argue about the mechanics of war and glory. Adult women could not.

It was as much a sign of her becoming aware of herself as it was a sign that she was physically changing. Slowly, so slowly that she hardly noticed it if she didn’t think about it, her hips swelled and her breasts became heavier and more pronounced. Her face slimmed, her lashes lengthened and darkened, and hair grew on parts of her body that she had not expected it to grow. All of these things seemed to her to be things of little note — except, perhaps, as an occasional nuisance when gowns that had previously fitted her no longer did — but seemed of great consequence to the people around her.

The whispers of the women and men at court wriggled their way into her subconscious. Lascivious tales of noble women undone by pregnancies out of wedlock, peasant women trapped by Dunlenders and subjected to unimaginable acts of violence, and women who took so happily to the chore of sex that they freely took multiple partners — to the chagrin of the court. Without expecting it or inviting it, Éowyn soon learned that the mantle of womanhood that she was now inheriting was a heavy and burdensome load.

She was fourteen the first time she had recognised a man staring at her chest. He was a minor sergeant from just outside Aldburg, twenty-two years old, fairly handsome for so short a man, and loud-spoken with a riotous laugh. They had been standing opposite one another in conversation at the outlying perimeters of a celebratory dance when she had followed the line of his sight. When he realised she was aware of where his attention was turned to, he had smirked at her, then disappeared off to find the hand of another young girl for the next dance. Beside her, one of the fluttering twits who hovered around the court in search of a high-born husband leaned in to her and giggled, telling her in no uncertain terms that she should be honoured by the man’s interest in her body. She did try her best to be honoured, but the only emotion she could conjure within her was a vague sense of fury.

After that, she had taken to finishing her domestic duties as hastily as she could so she could slip out of her gowns and exhaust herself in the practice yard. The first few times she had done so, she had moved so speedily through her duties she began to trip up and make careless mistakes, which had resulted in Gríma keeping an ever-closer eye on her work. When mistakes were inevitably discovered, she found herself forced back into gowns for longer and longer periods of time, and being forced back into gowns meant being forced back under the sometimes-lewd gaze of men. These failures, she was told, were an abdication of her womanly duty to maintain a neat household. Thus, womanhood became inextricably bound up with restrictions on her liberty and the unsettling and unwelcomed notice of men.

Ceolwenne married Elfhelm on a cool spring day, a humble but pretty affair. They went away for a few short weeks, and when they returned, she had a wealth of stories to whisper to Éowyn. Ceolwenne, who had been far better prepared for a woman’s life than had Éowyn, seemed to have entered her marriage with a plethora of insecurities and expectations — most of which had turned out to be wrong. Even still, it was the first time Éowyn had heard that sex could be anything other than a wearisome duty to be endured.

When she was sixteen, Théodred’s èored briefly returned to Edoras for some ceremonial formalities. A young rider, at most three or four years her senior, watched her in the practice ring as she proved to her cousin all that she had learned in his absence. Théodred, with a small smirk, departed after just two rounds, leaving her alone with the man. He introduced himself as Alaric, a local boy under Théodred’s command. He was quick-witted and praised her combat skills, and she had been happy to have someone who wasn’t her kin speak admiringly of her ability to fight. He’d told her he had little experience with cleaning up in the royal stables, and that he needed advice on how to properly stack the saddles so as to avoid her cousin’s ire.

Because she was sixteen, and because she had so rarely been around men who didn’t see her desire to fight as a threat to their manhood, she convinced herself she believed that he needed help, and followed. Inside the stables, she made a valiant attempt at showing him the ropes, until he’d pinned her to the wall and kissed her breathless.

It was sloppy, bordering on bad (though then she had no basis on which to judge the quality of a kiss), and it surprised her. But he didn’t seem to mind that he was kissing somebody in breeches who reeked of horse, so she kissed him back until a stable boy interrupted them. When Théodred’s men left at the end of the week, she didn’t watch them leave, and she never again asked after him, though for many years afterwards she often thought of that day in the stables.

A few months later, her marriageability was first spoken of. Lord Boromir of Gondor, a steadfast and favourite friend of Théodred’s had momentarily passed through Edoras on an unofficial diplomatic errand. (After he had left, her uncle had made it clear that he thought Boromir had been sent by his supercilious father to sniff out weaknesses in the Mark.) Lord Boromir had very proudly admitted that he expected that his younger brother, a captain fighting at the far eastern reaches of Gondor, would soon announce his betrothal to the eldest daughter of some lord from the south of the kingdom. It was, he said, a remarkably politically-savvy match, certain to bring the more capricious southern fiefdoms back into line.

Gríma, invited but not desired at that dinner, had, as was his way in those days, managed to redirect the conversation towards the theory of marriage as a political tool, and how a more stringent application of that theory in Rohan (as was seen in Gondor) might come to the kingdom’s benefit. He had implied, though had stared her down while he spoke, that unwed women kin of the King ought to make themselves more available to men of good sense.

Éowyn, who had never before given much thought to marriage, except in passing recognition to the fact that she would likely one day have to marry, blanched at the notion that any future marriages of hers would be discussed so openly. But then it occurred to her, with the swiftness of a winter gale blustering through an open door, that she was, in fact, of a perfectly reasonable age to be thinking of marriage.

In a move that had endeared him to her immensely, Lord Boromir had pointed out that while he referred to his brother as “younger,” he was in fact eight and twenty years old, and his apparent intended was only a few years younger than that, and both had come about the arrangement after many years of unattached life in adulthood.

The door, however, had been kicked open, and the monster that dwelt within could not be so easily returned to its enclosure.

It seemed to her the most frustrating conversation in her life in the subsequent two years, and it seemed to her to occur at two levels. The more overt level was that of the occasional discussion of marriage candidates’ suitability. Men would come, from time to time, to seek out the hand of Lady Éowyn, and Lady Éowyn would, with ruthless efficiency, dismiss them. In this, she had an entirely unexpected ally in Gríma, who seemed to find fault in all of her suitors as quickly as she did, and was far less reserved in his dismissals.

The more subtle level was that of discussions of what would be expected of her after marriage. At first, the language had been amorphous: Théodred had been slow to marry, Éomer was far too pleased with his status as the effective “spare”, what would become of the line of Eorl? Who, asked those who dared ask aloud, would ensure the birth of an heir? In those years, Gríma became a master manipulator of conversations. Where compliments paid to Éowyn had once concerned her ability to uphold her duties, or her voice, or her ability to dance, soon they focussed on her youth, her femininity, and, for the bolder flatterers, the curve of her hips.

She reached an age where she took to working with the elder women of the court on the various tapestries and blankets and carpets that they wrought on their looms. Then, she learned that sex, despite for so many of them being a frustrating burden at worst and a bore at best, was a regular topic of conversation. In their conversations, she came to learn much she hadn’t before had a way to learn. There was a moment, she learned, in the midst of sex where people reached what the women referred to as a “crisis.” For men, this crisis was not only common, but nigh on mandatory, the ultimate and only goal of sex. For women, this crisis was uncommon, but certainly not unheard of, though often stumbled upon quite by accident. Despite their language, all of the women seemed to speak fondly of this crisis, as if it was something to be actively sought after. Having no experience of her own against which to measure her opinions, Éowyn merely accepted that this was the way things were, and that, even if it was a happy one, a crisis sounded like a level of instability she would rather not invite into her life.

Meanwhile, her uncle seemed to age ten years for every one that passed. Her duties became more numerous and more laborious. Stubbornly committed to her precious few minutes of freedom a day, she fought hard to preserve her few hours of swordplay a week, even if it came at the cost of sleep or eating. It was to her benefit and detriment that she placed such a high premium on that time; benefit, in that she never felt as if she couldn’t defend herself from physical harm if needs must, detriment in that it became Gríma’s easiest way to wrest control over her. She had to guard it jealously, had to take to keeping a dulled blade beneath her bed for the days in which she found all the practice blades mysteriously locked away, and had to implicitly enlist the help of the servants to cover her tracks.

More men came seeking her affection, and she sent them all away. Some men, the younger ones, the maverick officers, didn’t come looking for her hand in marriage, but to take their chances at cracking the Lady of Rohan’s stony exterior. It became a game of sorts amongst men in the know, winning her attention was a warrior’s challenge in its own right, akin to slaying a first — or tenth — orc. Whether she was oblivious to it or intensely obstinate the men never figured out, but either way, none ever had any success.

What to them was a game became a struggle for life and death for her. For each man that flirted with her or sent tokens of affection, Gríma tightened his grip further and further. Her uncle had been almost entirely unmanned, his thoughts so consumed by the looming conflict that the social troubles of his youngest ward bled into the background noise.

Gríma touched her for the first time a little while after her seventeenth birthday. It was a brisk spring morning, and she was scheduled to meet a minor lordling from the Gondorian province of Anórien. She had gone out to the veranda without a mantle and, after a single shiver, Gríma had disappeared back into the hall, only to return with a thin, dark cloak. Though she was loath to accept any gestures from him, she was already surrounded by far too many dignitaries of the Mark who could not be trusted with any sign of defiance from the representatives of the House of Eorl. So, she had tipped her head in assent when Gríma presented her with the mantle, and held her hair back as he stood before her and secured it around her through. To onlookers, it would have seemed as if the fastener on the cloak was particularly fussy, because it took him several long seconds to finally catch it through. To Éowyn, the seconds stretched like hours as Gríma brushed long, moist fingers across the hollow of her throat, over and over and over until finally she’d stiffened, and he seemed to be broken from his trance.

A month passed before he touched her again, and then it was only a hand against the small of her back as he passed her in the council room.

A few weeks after that, it was his fingers wrapping around her arm to escort her away from her exhausted King.

Orcs pushed further into Rohan, a worrying puzzle that panicked all those in Edoras who had any business of knowing. Her cousin spent more and more time riding between his detachment and Meduseld, and each time she saw him he seemed tauter, more bereft of good humour, and, unsurprisingly if frustratingly, less able to listen to her worries. Through no fault of his own, he could hardly notice that it was not just his father whose constitution was bowing under the burden of conflict, and failed entirely to notice that Éowyn had grown distant and jumped every time someone entered the room without fair warning.

Her change in mood did not go unnoticed by Gríma, who quickly used it to drive a wedge between her and her uncle. Théoden, who had also become increasingly paranoid, seemed convinced that his line would die out. It took some careful manoeuvring from Gríma, but in time her uncle believed that it was Éowyn’s reserved personality that most threatened the House of Eorl. She was instructed, in no uncertain terms, to have a more open temperament and to show more warmth to their guests and allies.

It went against every defence she had learned. If she were to be more open and inviting towards their guests (who were all, invariably, men) then she would be indirectly inviting Gríma’s jealousy. She had always tried to deny that that is what it came down to — he was twenty-one years her senior, had known her since she was barely into girlhood, it all seemed incomprehensible to her — but at this earliest of breaking points, it was almost impossible to deny.

For three years, there was a stalemate of sorts. It was not a receding of hostilities, so to speak, but there were no escalations either. She found that if she didn’t put up any resistance when his fingers slipped under the hem of her sleeves or he stopped so close to her side she could feel his breath on her face, then she wouldn’t lose time in the practice ring, and wouldn’t be cornered into emotionally devastating arguments with her uncle and liege-lord.

Men continued to call, though there were fewer as the conflict worsened at the borders of the Riddermark. A daughter of a lord of the Westfold came to Edoras, Edith was her name. She was beautiful and self-possessed, she laughed loudly and drank heartily, and charmed the entire court within hours of her arrival. She took many bewitched men to her bed without a hint of shame, and in so doing left no room for anyone to criticise her. Better to die of good sex out of wedlock, she told Éowyn, than of bad sex in wedlock.

Théoden’s condition worsened, and Gríma cast a wider and wider shadow across Meduseld. Éomer was made third Marshal of the Mark, and Théodred began to spend more time in Edoras. The condition in the Westfold became bleaker with each passing week, the Dunlendings now threatened harm greater than they had ever been empowered to do before.

&c. &c. &c.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #351

“the writing on the wall  /  a psalm of napalm  /  abandon all hope, but try to stay calm”

Do you have bad posture? Oh yeah. Are your eyes sensitive to sunlight? VERY. How many miles can you run without stopping? An astonishing zero miles. Who is the most attractive person you know personally? My high school friend Alon, probably. Have you ever dated someone who was very vastly different from your “type”? No. When was the first time you said "I love you" to a significant other? When I dated my first real boyfriend Jason at 16. I actually said it very early in because I thought I was "supposed" to, and I did REALLY like him. How old were you when you first lived alone? If you’ve never lived alone, how old do you think you’ll be? I haven't yet, and idk. What do you wish you had been better prepared for? Ha, adulthood. Is there anything about you (physically) that you think turns people off of you right off the bat? My weight. Do you know anyone with a semicolon tattoo? I have a semicolon butterfly tattoo on my wrist, and while it's very subtle, my Mark tat features a semicolon, too. It's outlined by a quote he's said ("you are important, never forget that"), and the "i" is a semicolon. Idk if I know anyone else with one. Have you ever overdosed on a drug? Once accidentally, once purposefully. Have you ever kissed a guy you didn’t want to kiss? Yes. Who was the last guy you cuddled with? Girt. What is something you’ve had a toxic reaction to? The breakup with Jason. In the last picture taken of you, how did you pose? I just tilted my head, smiled, and gave a peace sign, haha. Mom wanted to show my sister how I looked with a dozen wires and other shit attached to me for my sleep study. Have you ever made a fake Facebook account? If so, why? No. If you were an Eevee, what would you wanna evolve into? Probably Espeon? They're so, so majestic and beautiful. I'd love to feel like that, lol. What flavor was the last piece of gum you chewed? Raspberry lemonade. Did you ever used to watch the show Teen Titans? Nah. When you were in school/if you are in school, do you actually share your grades with your parents? If you got/get a bad grade, do you hide it from them? My mom always stayed up-to-date with my grades. I never really had anything to hide. Have you ever been the designated driver? Once or twice, yeah. Were you obsessed with Webkinz when they first came out? "Obsessed" is an understatement. I was that kid with dozens upon dozens. They were pretty much my favorite thing. Who do you subscribe to on YouTube, if anybody? Oh Jesus, looooots. Are you wearing nail polish right now? What color? No. Neon colors, or pastel? Pastel. Are you currently pregnant? Do you wish you were/weren’t? I'm not and have zero desire to be. Have you ever had a dog? A good number of them throughout my life. Is there any drama going on right now in your life? No. Does your hair fall out a lot? No. What’s your favourite type of bird? Barn owls. I also love ravens and crows. How many friends do you have on Facebook? 126. What was on the last sandwich you ate? Pb&j. What sort of music did you listen to when you were in high school? The same as I do now: metal and its various subgenres. Have you ever gotten back together with an ex? No. How far away is the closest store to your house and what is it? I'm actually unsure which is the closest. We live in a cul-de-sac with a bunch of houses, and the street opens into just outside the main city, so there's a lot of stores. What is your favourite Thai dish? I've actually never tried Thai food. How many contacts do you have in your phone? Very few, but I don't feel like counting. Are there any candles in your bedroom, and what scent are they? No. What pet names do you use with your significant other? I'm single. Do you have to wear a name badge where you work? I don’t have a job. Can you hear anything right now? Yeah, I'm watching Gab Smolders play Skyrim. It's a game I've always wanted to play myself. Is there anybody else in the room you’re currently in? No. What’s the name of the store you usually get your groceries? Walmart. Does your house have a porch/balcony? It has a very, very small porch. What is your mother’s first name? Donna. Did you have a tree house as a kid? No. Are you afraid of speaking to large audiences? I'm terrified of it. Have you ever cried from being so mad? Oh yeah, it's very common for me to cry when I'm mad. Have you ever taken a bath with someone? As a kid, yes. Do you have any brothers? One older one. Does your family use coasters? Is anyone in your family excessively tidy? No. Do you wear pajamas to places other than at your house? Ha, yeah, just depends on where. Do you take showers in the morning or at night more? Morning. I used to be ALL about night showers, but I just love how refreshing they are in the morning. It's a good start to the day. Do you snore? Steal the covers? Roll around in your sleep? I steal the covers SO bad and roll around a lot. God bless whoever marries me. You see the person you fell hardest for. What do you do? I can guarantee I'd be a total deer in headlights and probably tear up or just straight-up cry. Have you been/are you depressed? It's nowhere near as bad as it was once upon a time, but I honestly am depressed these days. Who is the one person you can completely be yourself around? I only feel entirely "safe" doing that around Sara. Are your popups blocked on your computer? Yeah. Are your parents night owls or morning birds? My mom's a total night owl. She absolutely hates sleeping because it's "such a waste of time" to her, but of course she does it anyway. I haven't lived with my father since I was like 16, so idk what he's really like with this stuff now, but I'd call him an early bird, particularly because his job has him up early anyway. Do you have high blood pressure? No; my blood pressure is actually extremely low, so much so it scares every doctor who hasn't treated me before. It's a medication side effect and seriously sucks, because I am absolutely always light-headed and dizzy. Have you ever pumped gas? No. Are you affectionate? Very. What would a perfect yard look like for you? Hmmm... I'm going to include things I know I won't realistically have for maintenance reasons, but what's ideal. I would loooove love love at least one really big tree with maybe a birdhouse and like a bat box (is that what they're called?), and I'd love tons and tons of flowers to feed bees and other wildlife. A koi pond would be amazing, but that's one of those things I know I won't actually have. A pool would be really nice, preferably inground, and having a spot in the shade would be perfect. Some berry bushes would be cool, and grape vines... Man, I'm really fantasizing now, haha. What is a topic that you have just recently become interested in? Nothing very recently, but I'd say the most recent would be uhhhh tarantulas, though that's been a thing for many months now. What is a feel-good song that you’ve been listening to lately? None lately, anyway. I can tell you "Jump" by Van Halen is the staple "feel-good" song for me, though. What are some things you enjoy seeing pictures of? Meerkats... Mark... more meerkats and Mark... oh also meerkats and Mark... Is there anything you are scared/awkward about talking about in life? Don't talk to me about sex. Has a pet ever stolen food from you as you were eating it? AS I was eating it, no. What is the weirdest compliment you have ever been given? I have no idea. What’s stronger - your upper or lower body? Jesus, I couldn't tell you. I'm just weak, period. Women tend to have more lower body strength, so I GUESS maybe that, but given the fact my legs are horribly weak, I don't know. My arms aren't strong, either. Are you very careful with your technology (phone, laptop, etc) or do you take risks that could damage them? I try to be mindful and careful, but you could say the way I pick up my laptop sometimes is risky. Have you ever been in the newspaper? What for? I think so, as part of my graduating class? But that would be a LOT of people... so I actually don't know. I have this faint memory of being in it with other people, but idr. Would you say that the area you live in is particularly picturesque? Ew, no. What is your favorite type of cat? One does not simply pick ONE favorite kind of cat. I love Persians, Ragdolls, Siamese, sphynxes, bengals, Abyssinians, and I could go on and on. If you had your way, what color(s) would you dye your hair? I have A LOT of colors I want to dye my hair, but the ones I'm currently most interested in are pastel pink, creamsicle orange, and lilac. Do you like seafood? If so, what is your favorite? If not, what is your favorite type of food? I only like shrimp. What religion/spiritual path intrigues you the most, if any? Paganism. It's the one I think is closest to what I believe in, and I just find it all very interesting. I love the nature focus. Would you ever consider getting dreadlocks? Nooooo. How many times is your cartilage pierced in your ears? None anymore. :( I miss all my piercings that closed while hospitalized. Have you ever had a pet bird? Nah. It'd be cool, but I don't want one enough to actually get one. Do you like dinosaurs? I looooove dinos. They were my obsession as a kid. My first dream career was even a paleontologist. Do you like going for long walks with friends? If my legs worked like a healthy fucking human's, I would love to do that again. I would literally collapse if I tried to go on a long walk now. Do you miss anyone from school? I miss a lot of people from school. I'm thankful for Facebook for that, but even that's not enough, really. What is your favorite flavor of Jolly Ranchers? Watermelon, I think? Was there a strawberry one? How are your parents right now? I'm assuming Dad's fine, and Mom's okay, just stressed as she always is. Can you take naps, or does it make you feel horrible? Man, I love naps. They're like, mandatory for my existence, lol. If you celebrate Christmas, do you get a real tree or an artificial tree? A fake one. Have you ever been told you were a good writer? Yeah. Do you watch music videos? No. Do you own an account on Club Penguin? Haha awww, remember the worldwide heartbreak when that site shut down? Anyway, I did as a kid. Do you like lemonade? Sure do. Was your first kiss perfect? To me it was. How do you feel about the first person you kissed? I feel a lot of things about him. As of right now, how do you feel about your future? Nervous. Who is the last person you ran into unexpectedly? *shrugs* Is sex something special, or just for fun? It has to be something special for me personally. Do you follow fashion? If so, why? Not at all. Have you ever played a real pinball machine? No. Do you like the smell of BBQs? I love the smell, but don't like the food. Do wasps scare you? Yes. Are you currently trying to get over someone? I mean, yes and no. I don't think I'll ever be fully over Jason, but I feel like I'm as "over him" as I'll ever be, maybe. I hope I can even further let him go, but we'll just have to see. Have you ever dated someone with longer hair than yours? Yes. Have you ever worn flip flops in the snow? HA, oh yeah. If it's only a dusting, I don't care at all. I pretty much always wear flip flops. How old were you when you met your first love? I was 15. If you could have one more pet, what? JUST one? Probably a Brazilian Black tarantula, ideally. I technically want a western hognose snake more, but given I already have a snake, in this hypothetical situation, I'd take the spider. Would you rather have an owl or a snake? Ha, speaking of snakes. A snake, even though I adore owls. What do you order at Chic-Fil-A? I don't give my business to Chick-fil-A. They're reigned by homophobic, transphobic pieces of shit that have given monetary contributions to anti-LGBT foundations, including most disgustingly those that support conversion therapy. I admittedly looooove their chicken sandwiches, but I just can't in good conscience go there. Have you ever been addicted to cigarettes? No, given I've never smoked and will never. Which do you use more? Facebook or Instagram? Facebook. Did you enjoy your past relationships? Yeah. Do you like '80s music? '80s metal is great. Something you would NEVER buy? Drugs. Have you ever questioned your sexuality? I first questioned if I was bisexual in middle school, 8th grade I think, but I went into denial about it given I was Christian at the time. Looking back, there were many clear signs of me liking girls too, I just didn't notice them until a few years ago when I came out as bi. Do you like Star Wars? No. What is the best thing about life? Experiencing love, both platonic and romantic. Are you superstitious? No. What show/concert have you gone to that you didn’t like much? I haven't experienced a bad concert before, but then again I've only been to one. Is sex a must in your life? Nah. Have you watched porn alone before? I've never watched porn period. I have absolutely no desire to watch two random people go at each other. What do you think about weed? It should be legal everywhere, but treated similarly to alcohol in that there are legal repercussions to doing certain things, like driving, under the influence. There are just too many benefits for many health conditions to ignore. Have you read the entire Bible before? No. I've started to before, but I didn't get far.

[the-problem-of-leisure]

Fear of the Water - ch 1

Fear of the Water - Annie & Finnick Origin Story

(ANNIE)

“Annie,” a voice says. There’s something pressing on my shoulder. “Annie, wake up.”

I try to hide my face behind my hair. “Nooooo,” I moan, drawing out the word.

“Come on. It’s reaping day.”

I crack my eyes open. My twin brother Bosun is standing over me. He’s bathed and dressed already. Must have been awake for hours. His strawberry hair is combed for once, but bags and purple shadows hang under his blue-green eyes. I wonder if he slept at all.

He forces a smile. “I don’t know how you sleep so late. I can never sleep at all before the Reaping.”

The only reason I’m able to is because I stole a sleeping draught from our aunt’s medicine cabinet.  She doesn’t know, of course – she’d have one of her episodes. Probably threaten to send Bosun and me back to the community home. But we’re seventeen now, and we can work full time now that we’ve finished school, and I doubt she’d be willing to part with our salaries. But it also means we can live on our own. Bosun and I constantly promise ourselves that day will come soon, but people usually only move out of their family homes when they get married.

My cousins and I help each other into our dresses and comb one another’s hair. One must look their absolute best on Reaping Day in case one gets called up. Don’t want the sponsors’ first impression of you to be in swimming clothes.

Adrie ties my hair up in a ribbon as I braid Coraline’s hair from behind. Coraline is nearly eighteen; Adrie is fifteen. We all qualify for the reaping, and even though a girl named Coastia Is set to volunteer, we’re still nervous wrecks. Everybody is.

My aunt Chelsea looks us all over one more time to be sure we’re presentable.

We don’t bother with breakfast since none of us will be able to eat anything anyway. We walk toward the pavilion where the reaping is held in relative silence. I give Bosun’s hand a quick squeeze before he joins his friends on the boys’ side of the crowd.

“Dodge got his hands on a bottle of rum,” Bosun says to me. “When all this is over, we’ll get drunk and go for a swim. Okay?”

I lower my voice and try not to move my lips too much as I speak. “Do we have to bring the cousins?”

“God, no. They’d ruin it.” Bosun gives me a quick squeeze. “It’ll be you, me, Dodge, and Ondine. And Gill, I think. And maybe a couple of Dodge’s cousins, but they’ll bring their own liquor.”

“I hate most of Dodge’s cousins.”

“Doesn’t matter. You’ll be drunk.” He goes off toward the boys’ side and I look around for Ondine. She’ll need somebody to hold her hand through all this, the awful memories it will drag up.

Ondine, who’s been with Bosun for as long as anybody can remember, is my best friend. Maybe my only proper friend – except for Dodge, I guess. Bosun’s the social one; as his twin, I can just insert myself into whatever relationships he has without putting in the work of getting to know someone and then his friends become mine.

Ondine’s sister Liffey was my proper best friend until she died of an infected cut on her arm in the arena last year. Ondine, already an orphan, is now totally alone except for Bosun, who she’ll probably marry in a few years.

“Annie!”

I turn at the sound of my name. “Ondine.”

Lithe, lovely Ondine rushes toward me and grabs my hands so hard that my knuckles crack. “Oh, I’m so glad I found you. I couldn’t stand to be alone for this.”

“Me neither.”

She talks when she’s anxious, so I’m prepared when she starts speaking a mile a minute. “We just have to remember that we’re nearly done. This is my last reaping, and you and Bosun will be done next year. And then we’ll all be safe.” Her throat bounces as she swallows back tears. “Right?”

I smile. “Right.”

She catches sight of a few of her friends and drags me over to them.

(FINNICK)

I sit with the other victors on the platform in the shade. Everybody else stands on the ground facing the stage, the sun shining directly into their eyes. They’ve probably all ruined their clothes with sweat by now.

An attendant comes around to us and offers to powder our faces so we don’t look “too damp.” Mags is the only one polite enough to say no; the rest of us just ignore the attendant altogether. I let her give me a light dusting.

Eefa is half-asleep, Mags has her hands folded in her lap, and Broadsea keeps itching his beard and occasionally baring his teeth at people who stare too long. Proteus hasn’t taken his seat yet; he’s chatting with the mayor and the harbormaster about spatchcocking, which I guess is a cooking thing since that’s his passion. Maybe ‘passion’ is too strong a word; Proteus is too apathetic to experience any strong urge or emotion. His hobby, perhaps, is a better description.

We sit in order of victory, which means that as the most recent victor, I’m at the end of the line.  I’m stuck next to damn Broadsea, and, since I sit on his left, I’m stuck looking at the mangled side of his face from the corner of my eye.

Mags is the only one I get along with. She’s the only one I like and she’s one of the only people in the world who genuinely likes me. As our district’s first victor, she’s seated at the other end of the line.

The microphone at the front of the stage shrieks as our Capitol escort adjusts it. She’s gotten even more surgery done to disguise her age since last summer, but instead of looking younger she just looks strange. She gives the introductory speech reminding us why the Hunger Games exist and what an honor it is to be chosen.

Piers Brewre volunteers for the boys.

The Career is about average height, maybe a little taller, and well-built. His muscles don’t bulge out of his body the way other Careers’ sometimes do, but they’re just big enough to see that they’re there.

Most of our tributes are Careers; regular kids get called up about a third of the time. We don’t have as many Careers as 1 and 2, but it’s practical to have a few. Careers have a real shot at winning and they save someone else’s life by volunteering to compete. I’ve always wondered why other districts don’t have this practice. It would save them a lot of heartache.

Piers takes his spot on the stage and crosses his arms over his chest as he waits for his partner to be called.

Brae clears her throat. ��Now for the girls!”

There’s confusion in the crowd. An eighteen-year-old girl named Coastia was set to volunteer this year. Most people don’t change their minds about volunteering, and those who do aren’t usually allowed to withdraw. Coastia must’ve bribed somebody to get out of it.

Someone angrily shouts “Coastia! What did you do?” and a girl of about eighteen that must be her shrinks to the back of the crowd. The other girls begin to cluster into little pockets, all holding hands and whispering to each other. Other people start to scream out all sorts of horrible things, and most of the girls begin to panic. They thought, at least this year, they were safe. Now the odds are their only protection.

Brae, our escort, prances over to the other bowl and reaches in. She accidentally grabs two, and takes her sweet time choosing which to keep and which to toss back with the others. She opens the slip of paper and clears her throat before reading, “Annie Cresta!”

After a few seconds, a girl emerges from the crowd. Flowing hair. Wide eyes. Maybe sixteen or seventeen. Visibly trembling. She stumbles a few times as she climbs the steps to the stage, anxiously wiping her sweaty palms on her blue dress. Her chin quivers from the strain of holding back tears. She’s going to lose the battle.

There’s a commotion near the front of the boys’ group. A boy says something and surges forward, but another boy, who I know to be the grandson of one of our other victors, catches him by the arm and pulls him back.

Brae smiles brightly. “Ladies and gentlemen of District Four, I present to you – your tributes!”

There’s plenty of mandatory clapping, then the tributes are led into the Justice Building. The Head Peacekeeper steps to the front of the stage and starts barking instructions. “Those of you wishing to bid farewell to the tributes, line up here in order of closest relation.”

Broadsea pulls a large bottle of liquor from a hidden pocket in his coat and takes a large drink. He wakes Eefa up to offer her some.

It’s the same every year. Eefa will stay in her rooms and avoid other people at all costs, Broadsea will be drunk or high or both, Proteus will be charming and ass-kissing Capitol citizens whenever possible, and Mags and I will try to keep a pair of children alive for as long as possible.

But I've already watched eight children die in pain and fear. Why should this year be any different?

[thefahc-motheringvampire]

Okay so I accidentally deleted it, but @watchthe-queenconquer submitted an ask about Geoff and Jack adopting Gavin so he can’t get deported, in the same vein as my headcanon about them being married. And uh, my hand slipped.

FAHC headcanon: Gavin was adopted by Geoff and Jack.

He cheekily calls them ‘mum’ and ‘dad’, and everyone else thinks he’s joking. Even when he insists he’s being completely serious, can anyone actually take Gavin at his word? Geoff calls him ‘son’, when the mood strikes him, but that’s not really a clear indication of anything.

But that’s how the brit ended up joining the crew. It’s still the early days, “crew” was a nice word, it was more like a group of loose affiliates Geoff and Jack could more or less depend on to not fuck them over. They were moving up in the world, but still had a long climb to the top. At least they had a steady base of operations now (two bedrooms and the landlord accepted cash). But back to Gavin: they had stumbled on him by accident. A job required a hacker to get past a security system, and while they were fretting about what the fuck they were going to do about that, this idiot descended from the heavens and tried to boost Jack’s car.

He was unsuccessful, obviously, losing quite quickly in the ensuing fistfight. When Jack threatened to report him to the cops (a laugh in and of itself, like she was going to call the police), the kid completely broke down and promised he would do anything she wanted in penance. Among the blubbered offerings were his skills with computers, and Jack decided to be merciful and accept his proposition.

That started their acquaintance with Gavin. He did a good job and seemed eager to work for them, so they called him whenever they needed a hacker. Kid didn’t have a car though, always needed to be picked up and dropped off. Geoff joked with Jack that they were picking up their son from school.

Something that nagged at Geoff though was that they rarely dropped him off at the same place twice. He would have guessed homeless, but Gavin was always clean and dressed nicely. Better than Geoff was, usually. When he asked about it, Gavin brushed it off; he wasn’t exactly here legally, so he was couch surfing until he could figure out the best way to secure citizenship. He was only 17 after all, and he looked it. It was proving difficult to forge his documents.

One night they’re back at the apartment after finishing a job. It’s pissing rain outside and everyone is soaked (because SOMEONE forgot where they parked the car and Jack swears it’s the last time she’ll let Geoff drive). Geoff’s in a good mood though, they were successful and there’ll be a big payout waiting for them tomorrow. He cracks out the beers, but notices Gavin edging his way to the door.

“Should probably pop off, friends’re expectin’ me,” he offers lamely. Geoff starts feeling around for his keys (which are in Jack’s pocket but he’s already forgotten her oath), but Gavin stops him, “Oh don’t worry ‘bout it. It’s not far, I can walk.”

Geoff won’t hear it though, because despite his best intentions he’s developed a soft spot for Gavin and his well being, and insists on driving. Gavin seems uncomfortable with it, but goes along because what else is he going to do? So Geoff drives him and Gavin waits on the curb until he’s gone (“It’s just British etiquette mate”). While he’s driving home he gets a text from Jack demanding ribs from that place across town (”you owe me for making me walk around in the rain asshole”), so he sighs and continues his adventure. Good thing he was such a devoted husband.

40 minutes later he’s on his way back, passing through the same neighborhood he dropped Gavin off in. He’s surprised to see a familiar skinny silhouette walking in the rain. Geoff slows the car and rolls down the window, calling out Gavin’s name. The kid jumps and turns, and has a weird mix of relief and trepidation on his face. Closer up, Geoff is able to see a puffy eye and a split lip.

“Hey man, you okay?” Geoff is all fatherly concern and friendly confusion.

“Wot…oh yeah I’m toppers. Just uh…bit of a tiff with my friend, yeah? Boys’ll be boys, you know how it is.” Gavin is smiling but it isn’t reaching his eyes. The rain continues to pour, making his hair plaster around his face and add to the pathetic look.

“Do you need a place to stay tonight?” That’s not the question Geoff wants to ask. He wants to ask where this asshole who thinks he can beat up on Gavin is. But the kid seems out of sorts and Geoff doesn’t want to upset him further.

“Don’t worry ‘bout me, I’ll figure something out. Thanks though.” As if he really believes Geoff is just going to leave him there in the rain with a busted face and no place to go.

“Gavin, get in the fucking car.” Kingpin Geoff is out, and Gavin hurries to obey the strict tone. He’s quiet at first, like he’s struggling with something that needs to be said but isn’t wanted.

“I uh, don’t have any money on me, but you can take what you want from my cut of the job,” he decides on, watching Geoff carefully.

“I don’t want your money, Gavin,” the older man replies, a lot gruffer than he intended. Still in kingpin mode.

“Right,” Gavin says quietly, almost to himself, “ ‘course not.” He cheers right up after that, and begins chattering blithely about nonsense like whether or not Geoff thinks dogs know they’re dogs. The tenseness eases up. They get back to the apartment, the evening winds down, Geoff has packed away his vengeance in a box, to open later. After her ribfest Jack turns in for the night, and it’s just Geoff and Gavin sitting on the couch, watching TV.

And Geoff’s enjoying it; he likes Gavin, and there’s an anxiety in him he didn’t know he had that’s calmed tonight, because he knows the kid is safe. And he looks over and smiles at Gavin and it’s just a peaceful pure moment and it feels good.

The next thing he knows, Gavin is on top of him, hand on his crotch and kissing him. Geoff isn’t able to process exactly what’s happening, and a pulse of arousal shoots through him, responding to the kid’s touch. Gavin’s lip has re-split open and all Geoff can taste is blood. It doesn’t take his conscious brain long to kick in. He pushes Gavin off and stands up, creating some distance between them.

“What the fuck was that?” Geoff asks before he can stop himself, still not putting the pieces together. He’s looking down at Gavin and the kid looks scared out of his mind, and Geoff knows that feeling. I’ll do anything you want, just don’t hurt me. Please daddy, just don’t hurt me. And then it dawns on him, and he’s sitting down heavily, head in his hands. He realizes what Gavin thought the price for a place to sleep was.

Several emotions wash over him all at once. Anger. Grief. Disgust. It takes him a second to collect himself, to stifle the feelings in his throat threatening to bubble out. Next to him Gavin hasn’t moved, and the blood has started to dribble down his chin.

“Are you mad at me Geoff?” Gavin asks in a tiny voice that absolutely breaks Geoff’s heart. It helps ease the grip around his throat his anger currently has.

“No Gavin. I’m not mad at you.” He’s pinching the bridge of his nose and his eyes are squeezed shut, he doesn’t trust himself to look at the kid again, not yet, “is this…what always happens when you need a place to sleep?”

“Yeah. They don’t pay me but they buy me stuff sometimes.” Gavin’s unfrozen, but he’s keeping his distance from Geoff, making himself as small as physically possible at the other end of the couch. Eying up the door, calculating an escape route.

“Is this…something you want to be doing?” Geoff doesn’t want to hear the answer.

“You having a laugh? ‘Course I don’t want to be fucking men my dad’s age. Don’t really wanna be fucking men at all, honestly. But if that’s what I gotta do to survive, it’s what I’ll do.” There it is. The anger’s back, threatening to overwhelm Geoff. He wants to know who did this, who forced this kid to believe that no kindness comes without a price. Seventeen goddamn years old. All Geoff wants in this moment is to burn this entire city to the fucking ground.

Instead he takes a deep breath and finally trusts himself to look at Gavin. The terror’s gone but the kid’s guard is still up, “Okay listen up. I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to,” Geoff starts, and he can practically see Gavin shut down, “but if you need a place to stay and don’t want to fuck anybody to get it, you can crash with us. As long as you want. No strings.”

“For real?” Gavin’s afraid to trust what Geoff says, and it cuts deep.

“For real.”

That’s how Gavin starts living with them. Geoff has a talk with Jack, and they take the money they were saving for a new car and put it to a new use. It’s a few weeks until things come to fruition, but when they do Geoff is excited like a kid at Christmas and it takes everything in him to not ruin the surprise.

“Wot��s all this then?” Gavin asks, coming into the kitchen. There’s a questionably made cake courtesy of Jack (but Geoff helped decorate) and a neat stack of papers at Gavin’s place.

“Well if you’re going to join our crew there’s some paperwork you have to submit first,” Jack quips, smirking. 

It doesn’t take the golden boy long realize she’s joking, but he’s not getting the joke, “These are adoption papers?”

“Geoff and I have begun to long for the pitter-patter of tiny feet. Yours are a bit bigger than we’d like, but we’ll make do,” Jack is teasing this out as long as she can, much to the torment of Geoff next to her.

“I don’t get it.”

Geoff finally bursts, “you won’t be deportable if we adopt you, dummy.”

“You’re serious?” Gavin is incredulous, still waiting for the other boot to drop. People in his world weren’t ever so generous.

Geoff’s in the middle of telling Gavin about how he married Jack, how much worse off could he do, when Gavin hug-tackles him. He’s trying hard not to cry, but Geoff can feel two wet spots growing on his shirt. Which is just as well, because Geoff’s crying too. And his little family grows by one.

[prince-claremont-diaz]

étoiles et fleurs

Summary: Lucas is next in line for the throne, about to be engaged to marry a young noble woman and he hates it. That is, until he runs into the curious florist, Eliott, on a walk through the city. Lucas has little choices in life, but will one of them be Eliott?

Word count: 2.9k 

Warnings: none

ao3 version:

ii.

Lucas sighed, putting his book down on his knees and turning to look out the window and onto the grounds. The massive garden was alive with colour, the lawn a vibrant green, flowers of every kind covering the hedges and trees and bushes. Roses and marigolds and lilies and carnations, perfectly trimmed and watered.

That day, it was a particularly clear afternoon, only a few pale white clouds bobbing along the pale blue June sky. Lucas could see one of the gardeners out with his clippers, trimming the hedges neatly.

Lucas looked along the corridor for any signs of life, tilting his head back against the window frame, tucking his knees in closer on the bay window. He could barely get a second of peace anymore now that he was technically dating Chloé. Although it was hardly dating since it was arranged and he couldn't stand the girl. The more he got to know her, the more he realised she was physically incapable of not talking, always going on and on about complete nonsense. She talked his ear off at dinner about annoying servants, complained in the garden about friends back home, babbled in the library about her new clothes she was sent.

Opening his book once again, Lucas pushed all thoughts about Chloé out of his mind and continued to read his book.

He was almost onto the next chapter, starting to get into the scene, when he heard quick footsteps behind him, followed by someone grabbing his shoulders. Lucas startled, dropping his book onto the floor with a thud and spinning around so fast his neck clicked. When he came face to face with none other than Yann, his startled frown melted into a grin. "You gave me a fucking heart attack, Yann!" he whined, shoving his friend and getting off the window sill.

Yann snorted, shoving his shoulder back. "Don't be such a drama queen—sorry, prince. It's not my fault you're jumpier than a kitten," Yann replied, smirking and jumping out of the way of Lucas' swat. "Oho, that's not very nice, is it? I know I'm just a servant, but surely you don't have to be so cruel!" Yann mocked defense, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting.

"Can I help you, Yann?" Lucas asked, crossing his own arms.

Yann shrugged casually, plopping onto the windowsill with his back against the window. "Shouldn't I be asking you that, your Royal Highness?" Yann teased. He digressed, straightening up. "But really, no. Mum let me go for a wander and I was bored so I came to exactly where I knew you'd be."

"How'd you know I'd be here? No one else knows about this area," Lucas asked, furrowing his eyebrows together, "No one ever comes here because it's not even near any staff quarters."

"Oh, Lulu, you underestimate me," Yann replied, "Of course I know where you hide from your little girlfriend. You're far too predictable, really." Lucas rolled his eyes. "A distant, mostly deserted corner of the castle which is relatively close to the library and has a good enough view of the gardens? Hmm, I wonder how I figured out you'd be here…"

Lucas leaned against the wall by the window and slid down to the floor with his back against the wall. "Okay, so maybe I am a little predictable," Lucas admitted. He lifted his fallen book and flattened out its pages, closing it properly and setting it down by his side. "But can you blame me for hiding? That girl never stops. I needed a break before dinner later on."

"How on earth would I ever manage to talk to her, Lucas?" Yann deadpanned, staring at Lucas, "I'm just the butler's son and she's a noble who is soon-to-most-likely-be-engaged to the heir to the throne."

Lucas groaned, shut his eyes and hit his head against the wall. "Fuck. Sorry," he muttered, "I don't use my head at all."

Yann poked his nose with his finger. "No, you don't," Yann said, "But it's okay. I forgive you."

They fell into amicable silence, Yann watching the gardener water the plats while Lucas fiddled with the pages of his book, legs outstretched in front of him. If he really strained, Lucas could just about hear the chirping of birds outside the window.

"Do you really think I'm going to have to be engaged to Chloé?" Lucas asked after they had been sitting in silence for almost 20 minutes. He looked over his shoulder, making Yann turn his head from the window down to him.

Yann sighed, placing a comforting hand on one of Lucas' shoulders. "I hate to break it to you, but yes," Yann admitted sadly, "Most likely. She's from a noble family that has pretty much always backed your family and she's been basically living here since late April. And you're of marrying age. I think it's safe to say you'll be engaged at least by the end of summer."

Lucas groaned, falling onto his side on the itchy carpet, burying his face in his hands. "But I don't want to marry her," Lucas whined, distorted by his hands, "She's annoying and talks too much and I'm not even 21 yet. I don't wanna marry anybody yet." Yann climbed off the bay window and settled down beside Lucas, forcing him to sit up. "I know it sounds stupid, but sometimes I really hate being the prince." Lucas rested his head on Yann's shoulder, scowling.

Yann reached up and patted his head. "I know, Lucas," he said, "I'm sorry." Lucas frowned deeper, glancing sideways.

"Sorry? What for?"

"Even though you're a royal and have all these privileges, at least I have more choices in life than you."

♤

Dinner that evening was a disaster. Lucas' father called him out for hiding from Chloé all day because she asked multiple people where he was (including the king!). This turned into his father yelling about duty and chivalry and honour and how Lucas would never be a good enough king. Chloé cried, his mother left the dining hall shaking, his father accidentally broke a plate slamming his hand on it in anger and Lucas stormed out of the dining hall with his hands curled into tight fists.

Lucas burst into the hallway, pacing the floor and breathing heavily, tightening and loosening his fists. The doors to the dining hall swung open again and Manon hurried out, holding up her scarlet dress, hair a mess. Lucas was hunched, leaned against the wall, eyes burning with hot tears as he tried to keep himself from punching the wall out of anger.

"Lucas? Lucas, are you okay?" she asked, striding over to him. She held his fists in both her hands, uncurling his fingers to reveal red rimmed crescents indenting his palms. "He's wrong, Lucas. None of that is true. You'll be a far better king than he ever has been, okay? You have more chivalry and honour in your big toe than he does in his entire body." She wiped the tears from his cheeks, smiling sadly.

"But what if he's not wrong? What if, when I become king, I ruin everything?" Lucas cried, sniffling. "And I'm hardly ready to marry anyone nevermind her."

"Maybe if you tell mother—"

Lucas cut her off and shoved her away. "No! I'm never going to be satisfied with my spouse and you know it," Lucas snapped, "I'll never be happy enough with who I marry and our parents won't ever care." Manon started to reply, but Lucas was already marching out of the hallway, heels clicking on the stone floor.

"Lucas, where are you going?" Manon called after him, hands on her hips and worried frown on her face.

"Out! Anywhere is better than here!" he called over his shoulder, storming down a flight of stairs. He heard Manon's heels following him down the stairs frantically, hair flowing behind her and skirt bunched into her fists. "You're not stopping me, Manon."

"Come on, Lucas. Don't do this. You can't just leave the castle."

Lucas stopped and spun around, fresh tears in his eyes, making Manon blur in his vision. "I'm just going for a walk, okay? I'll be back later." And before Manon could protest further, Lucas spun back around and stormed out the front doors once again.

♤

It was sunset by the time Lucas reached the middle of the city. He was mostly calm now, walking through the winding streets. The evening air was cool against his skin, having neglected wearing a coat, which left him in his simple white button down. All the market stalls were shut for the night as well, only a few shops and restaurants still open. The streets were almost deserted and Lucas only passed a handful of people, thankfully. He was considering turning back, shivering with cold, when he stumbled upon a small florists still open, warm light flooding onto the dim street.

Lucas pulled his sleeves over his hands and stepped inside the shop. He was instantly overwhelmed by the strong floral scent filling the air, along with the pleasant heat coming from a small fireplace in the corner. Lucas glanced around the entire store, brushing his fingers over the soft petals and leaves, occasionally leaning down to smell one.

"Hello," a voice said in his ear. Lucas lept to the side, whipping his head up, eyes wide. He found himself barely an inch away from the same florist from the market stall pess than a month ago.

"Fuck, you scared me!" Lucas exclaimed, clutching his chest.

The man chuckled, eyes crinkling as he smiled. "Sorry, I didn't mean to!" he replied, still laughing, "I was just coming to see if my customer needed anything. Looks like I found my favourite one."

Lucas flushed, distracting himself by fidgeting with the stem of a gloxinia.

"It's been a while. I was starting to think you were a dream," the man continued, "Or at least that you weren't coming back." The man was standing so close to Lucas he could feel his breath on the side of his face and neck. It sent a chill down his spine.

"Yeah, I've been, uh, busy," Lucas replied sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. "And I live just outside of the city, so it's hard to come here often, I guess."

"What a shame," the man said. "Where's your companion from last time? The magnolia girl."

Lucas snorted at the memory. "She's back home. I came here myself."

The man nodded and clapped his hands together once. "Right. Well, can I do anything for you today?" he asked, stepping away finally to gesture towards the flowers surrounding them. "I'm Eliott, by the way. I don't believe I introduced myself last time. Silly me." He held out his hand in front of Lucas.

Lucas shook his hand, lingering for far too long to be considered normal. "Lu—Louis."

Eliott smirked, a knowing glint in his eye. He's onto me. "Well, Louis, what can I do for you? Another arrangement for a special someone?" Eliott asked with a teasing lilt to his voice. He gestured around the shop again. "I can do loads of different bouquets for all occasions."

Lucas stepped past Eliott further into the shop, looking around the room at the seemingly endless array of flowers filling the room. They were set in baskets and vases and paper bags on the wall, overlapping endlessly in a rainbow of petals and leaves and ribbons. Lucas made his way all the way to the back of the shop where he found a bunch of parchment stuck to the wall, adorned with what looked like pressed azaleas and peonies.

"They're my favourite flowers," Eliott said, appearing by Lucas' side, "They symbolise my soul. Like spirit flowers or something."

Lucas walked ever closer to the wall, lightly touching one of the azalea petals. "So like floriography?" Lucas asked casually, glancing sideways at Eliott. Eliott's smile softened, looking down at Lucas through his lashes.

He nodded. "Yeah. Exactly like that."

"So." Lucas turned his entire body towards Eliott, who mirrored him. "What flowers am I? What's my soul flower?" Lucas asked, raising an eyebrow teasingly, suggestively.

A sharp intake of breath. A grin. A pause. Eliott looked Lucas up and down thoughtfully, tilting his head to the side. The silence in the air hung heavy and charged, but no less comfortable. "I don't know. I'll think about it," Eliott said after a moment. "Maybe come back and I'll have one in mind."

"Okay then…" Lucas turned around, circling the store once again. "Will you make me an arrangement at least? Any that you like. Any occasion you can think of," he said, walking backwards, grinning. Eliott followed him, eyes full of mirth.

"Now that I can do." And then Eliott was hurrying around the small shop, knocking down baskets and grabbing flowers here and there seemingly haphazardly. Lucas hopped up onto the cash desk, swinging his legs back and forth as he watched Eliott hurtling around the room collecting the flowers for the bouquet. It was the most fun Lucas had had in weeks, watching Eliott stumble and scatter around, a man on a mission, barely pausing for breath.

After five minutes, Eliott came over to the table with a bundle of flowers, laying them down and searching through the stack of ribbons. He pulled out a baby blue one and went to work arranging the flower assortment into the way he liked. Lucas watched with interest, giggling when Eliott dropped flowers or struggled over tying the neat bow to perfection. Finally, after making sure the bouquet was satisfactory, Eliott presented the bouquet with a flick of the wrist, holding it up for Lucas to take.

Lucas gasped as he looked over the arrangement. It was made with gloxinias, yellow tulips, white carnations and a few sprigs of heathers, all bunched together perfectly tied with the baby blue ribbon. Love at first sight, loveliness, admiration, Lucas thought to himself. The mixture of flowers smelled divine. Lucas glanced back up at Eliott, cheeks burning, and smiled flirtatiously. Eliott watched Lucas inspecting the floral arrangement, smirking, eyes glinting hopefully. Lucas took another whiff of the bouquet, eyes closing with contentment.

He looked back at Eliott and raised his eyebrows. "This is quite the selection of flowers you chose," Lucas said, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

"Well I thought they would suit you, now," Eliott replied simply, "I'm glad you like it." He stepped forwards, closing the majority of the gap between them. He was only a few inches away, warm breath hitting Lucas' face with mint and coffee. Lucas sucked in a breath, eyes wide as he peered up at the taller man with awe and something he thought was attraction. Lucas could have sworn he saw a similar look in Eliott's bright eyes that stared straight into his soul.

"How much is the bouquet?" Lucas asked, taking a step back and clearing his throat.

Eliott blinked, stepping back as well, face falling briefly before returning to a polite smile. Lucas' heart fell with it. "You can have it for free," Eliott said, "Take it as a gift from me."

"Are you sure? I assure you I can afford it—"

Eliott nodded. "I insist. Your sweetheart must get gifts like these often. Perhaps you should get something for a change." Eliott pushed the bouquet closer to Lucas' chest, still forcing a polite smile. Lucas caught Eliott's wrist, staring at him.

"Thank you, Eliott."

Eliott gulped. He glanced at Lucas' grasp on his wrist and back at Lucas, eyes wide. "I'm serious. No one's ever done something like this for me. So, thank you," Lucas repeated, deadly serious. His heart was racing with the intensity in the air between them, eyes burning from staring at Eliott so long.

"Well, I'm glad I can be the one to do it for you," Eliott replied, finally breaking their eye contact, glancing at the bouquet. "You deserve—"

"Eliott? Are you ready to go?"

Lucas ripped his hand off of Eliott's wrist, jumping back and nearly tossing his flowers behind him. Both men turned towards the door to the shop where a young woman was standing looking at them curiously. She glanced at Lucas and he turned away, avoiding her eyes.

Eliott peered at Lucas and back at the woman. He cleared his throat, scratching the back of his neck. "Lucille. I apologise, but I was just speaking with this customer and, er, got a bit distracted," Eliott replied, moving towards the back of the shop and disappearing behind the desk. Lucas watched the exchange with his heart at his knees, face scarlet.

Lucas took a deep breath, straightening his trousers and pushing past the woman–Lucille and into the street. "Thanks for the flowers, sir," he said over his shoulder, ignoring the woman and looking at Eliott behind her. "The recipient will love them, I'm sure," he added cryptically, smiling politely. Lucas turned fully away and began his trek back down the street, sighing.

"I'll see you again soon, sir." Lucas stopped walking. He turned back around and found Eliott standing outside of the shop, hands in his pockets. Lucille was unlocking the door to the shop, back turned to them. "Please." Lucille finished, turning to face Eliott and Lucas.

Lucas nodded stiffly, gesturing with the flowers. "If you can find my soul flower, I'll certainly be back for more of these arrangements," he replied. Before Eliott even had the chance to react or reply, Lucas was already hurrying away down the street. He looked down at the bouquet once again and couldn't help but smile despite the discomfort caused by the girl interrupting them.

Maybe he would be coming back to the city more often.

[ericsonclan]

A Father’s Day Gift

Written for @stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale ‘s one shot monthly challenge. Glad I was able to achieve all the points again and still make it sound natural XD

Summary: Willy learns from A.J. that it's Father's Day and wants to celebrate, but who can he give a Father's Day card?

Read on A03:

“Hey, AJ, whatcha doing?” Willy hopped over to the picnic table, watching his friend busily coloring away at a folded sheet of paper. For a second there, he’d reminded Willy of Tenn.

AJ looked up from his work. “Making a Father’s Day card,”

Willy’s nose wrinkled in confusion. “What’s that?”

“Aasim was talking with Omar about how it’s today. He said it’s important for us to remember all the old holidays and keep celebrating them to remember our history. It made me think about last year when Louis and I got those flowers for Clem on Mother’s Day. So this time I’m making something for Louis,”

Willy looked down at the card. It read “To: Louis” then below, “HAPPY FATHERS DAY”. Underneath was a drawing of a stick figure with squiggly noodle hair Willy figured was Louis then AJ with his afro and Clementine with her bun on either side of him. It looked nice. “I want to make one too!”

A.J. looked confused. “Who will you make one for? Your dad’s dead,”

“So is yours!”

“Yeah, but now that Clem married Louis that makes him my dad. You don’t have a mom or a dad,”

Willy’s face fell at the statement. He looked round the front yard, thinking about all the others. Clem and Louis weren’t A.J.’s real parents, just the ones he chose, so Willy knew he could make up his own too. If anybody counted as his mom, it was probably Prisha. She always made sure he had enough to eat, made a big deal about telling him how smart he was whenever he showed her a new invention and hugged him a lot. But then who was his dad? Mitch came closest, but he lost him years ago. Plus, he’d been more like a big brother. And Willy was pretty sure parents didn’t let you play with bombs.

“Hey there, goofball,”

The boys looked up to see Clementine making her way over to them. She playfully ruffled A.J.’s hair, ignoring his attempts to wriggle out from under her grasp. “Hey, Willy. What are you boys up to?”

“Secret stuff,” A.J. declared, leaning over to cover his paper. Then his eyes lit up in excitement. “Oh, Clem, can we go down to fishing shack today?”

“That depends. What do you want to go there for?”

“I’m gonna break off the mirror on the old truck that’s by there and give it to Louis as a present. That way next time he gets something stuck in his teeth he can find it right away and won’t get so embarrassed,”

Clementine chuckled at the memory. “That’s a good idea, but why does it have to be today? You and I will have fishing duty together later this week,”

“It’s ‘cause today is Father’s Day!” Willy exclaimed.

A.J. glared daggers at Willy for revealing his true motives.

Clementine look surprised before her face softened into a tender smile. She looked down at A.J., a hand on his shoulder. “If you want, we can go right now. I just need to ask Aasim to cover my watch shift for me before we go,”

“OK!” A.J.’s anger immediately dissipated with the promise of an outing.

Clementine headed out to find Aasim.

The boys colored in silence for a few minutes before A.J. looked over at Willy’s drawing in curiosity. “So who are you making a card for?”

“I don’t know,” Willy shrugged. “I’m just gonna make it super awesome then figure out who to give it to later,” He’d already drawn a bunch of explosions on the inside of the card. Now he was drawing a detailed picture of his possum Garbage on the front. He still wasn’t sure who to give it to. He didn’t want to lay it on Mitch’s grave. That would just make him sad like it always did. Louis was already getting A.J.’s card so he didn’t want to copy. Omar was shorter than him now; it’d be weird to give him the card. That only left Aasim.

Willy thought more about Aasim as he continued to color in his card, adding cool gears and more explosions on the back. He knew Aasim had looked out for him ever since Mitch died all those years ago. When he was smaller, Willy thought he annoyed Aasim since the older boy always seemed to want to be alone writing in that journal of his. Over the years though, they’d seemed to come to an understanding of each other. Aasim would play games with Willy and listen to all his crazy ideas about new inventions to improve Ericson and Willy would help Aasim out where he could and sometimes even listen when he went on and on about historical stuff.

Aasim wasn’t really Willy’s father, but he was probably the closest thing he’d ever had. He made sure that Willy stayed safe when they were out hunting, taught Willy to read and write better even though Willy had the attention span of a fly, and always seemed proud when Willy accomplished something. Hesitantly, Willy scratched out a message on the card: “To Aasim, Happy Fater’s Day”. Realizing he’d forgot the h, Willy jammed it in super small right beside the t. He hoped Aasim wouldn’t be weirded out by getting this card. Even if it didn’t work out the way Willy wanted, he still wanted to try giving it to him.

---

Evening fell and Louis and Prisha returned from their hunting trip. A.J. immediately ran over to Louis with his card, the broken mirror from the truck tucked underneath his arm. Willy watched as A.J. said something to Louis, holding forth the card excitedly. Louis looked at it for a moment before the full impact of what was being given to him hit him. An exuberant smile crossed his face as he lifted A.J. up into his arms, spinning him around excitedly before placing him down for a hug. He then took the mirror A.J. offered him, laughing sheepishly as A.J. likely retold the story of the time he got that piece of rabbit stuck in his teeth.

Willy hoped things would go as well with Aasim. He wandered over to where Aasim now sat on the steps of the admin building, reading a book. Willy cleared his throat to signal his presence. “Hey, Aasim. What are you reading?”

Aasim looked up from the book. “It’s a series of speeches by George Washington. You want to hear a bit?”

Willy nodded.

Aasim looked for a good place to start. “Our conflict is not likely to cease so soon as every good man would wish. The measure of iniquity is not yet filled; and unless we can return a little more to first principles, and act a little more upon patriotic ground, I do not know when it will.”

Willy wasn’t sure what to make of any of that.

Aasim could tell that he was lost. “Washington lived during the founding of America as its own country. He fought in a lot of wars for Americans to get their freedom. Here he was saying that if Americans didn’t unite and figure out the reasons why they were fighting for freedom, he didn’t know when or how they could win. Of course now America’s not really a country anymore, just a series of scattered territories. Makes you wonder if all that bloodshed was worth it. Still, I figured it would be nice to read something by one of the Founding Fathers today.

There was that word. “It’s Father’s Day!” Willy exclaimed.

“You’re right. Did A.J. tell you? He seemed awfully excited when he heard me mention it to Omar,”

“I-I made something for you,” Willy thrust the card forward along with the rock from his personal collection he’d decided to throw in as a last second gift. “I know you’re not my real dad or anything, but I thought you’d like to get something for Father’s Day too,”

Aasim seemed touched by the gift. He turned the card over in his hands, looking at all the details. “You did a great job with it. The explosions look pretty realistic and Garbage is spot on,”

“I always know how to draw Garbage,” Willy smiled proudly, his gap teeth showing. He pointed to the rock in Aasim’s other hand. “I thought you’d think the rock is cool too. I found it in the river a while back. It looks like it has scars all over it,”

“They’re quartz,” Aasim said, holding up the rock so they both could see it better. The grey rock was covered with bright crystal stripes. “You know, the way quartz forms is pretty cool. It actually comes from magma deep underground,” He looked at Willy’s uncomprehending face. “Volcanoes,”

“Woah, that’s awesome!” Willy’s mouth gaped open, his eyes large. A couple months ago Prisha and Aasim had made paper volcanoes for everybody to see and had them erupt fake lava and everything. It had been one of the best days of Willy’s life.

Aasim smiled at his enthusiasm. “You’re a good student, Willy. It just takes a bit of work to figure out what you want to know,” He looked back down at the card in his hand. “Thank you for this. It… means a lot,” He paused for a moment before awkwardly pulling Willy into a hug. “Man, I can’t believe you’re already as tall as me. Any day now you’re gonna have me beat,” He was silent for a moment before pulling away to look Willy in the eyes. “I’m proud of you, Willy. You’ve really stepped up over the years to help protect the school and keep everyone safe,”

Willy shrugged. “Just doing my job. You’re the one who does the hard stuff: all the planning to make sure we’ll make it through each winter. You’ve always had my back. I just don’t want to let you down,”

Aasim placed a hand on Willy’s shoulder. “You never have,”

Willy grinned again. It felt good to know Aasim was proud of him. “I guess with the baby coming we’ll all be working a lot harder, huh?”

Aasim’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Baby? What baby?”

“You and Ruby’s. She had me help her sneak back into the old nursery a couple days ago to see if we could use any of the old cribs. Didn’t you know?”

“I…” Before Aasim could answer, Omar’s voice rang through the front yard.

“Dinner’s ready! Get it before it’s cold!”

“C’mon, Aasim! It’s dinner!” the accidental reveal had already disappeared from Willy’s mind as he ran toward the picnic tables.

Aasim stood there in shock, looking toward the greenhouse where he knew Ruby was still working. He was going to be a father. This was all so sudden, so new. His eyes dropped to the card and stone in his hands. In Willy’s eyes, he already was a father figure of sorts. Did that mean with his own child he could be the father they deserved? Aasim felt a spark of excitement lighting deep within him. He certainly hoped so.