#when she first appeared I thought maybe I had a bad first impression but she'd improve as I read

[nutelloona]

so I'm reading the dungeon meshi manga now bc a tiny crumb of lesbianism already had me looking for more like a starved person but like

do any of y'all actually like Izutsumi? like like for real? bc she's been around for like 5 chapters at the point I'm in and the pace of my reading has slowed down DRASTICALLY bc of her omg I can't barely look at her without being annoyed

[wheels-of-despair]

A Worth It Story | (Before) Ralph Penbury x You | Series Masterlist

The Other Dance Summary: A flashback to Ralph and the future Mrs. Penbury's first kiss at the Christmas Ball. It contains a horrible date, an awkward dinner, drinking, dancing, drugs, Victoria and her girl gang, Mother, and eventual illness from one or more of the aforementioned horrors. Words: 2.2k

"I bought [the ring] the day after we met."

Whatever teasing remark had been waiting to roll from your lips is forgotten. The day after? He can't be serious.

"I assure you, I am very serious. I have the receipt at home if you doubt the date."

"Why, Ralph?" you breathe.

"You don't remember, do you?"

"What am I supposed to be remembering?"

"Our first kiss."

You look at him in complete confusion.

"The Christmas Ball. You kissed me under the mistletoe."

-Worth It, Chapter 12

Wilfred Carmichael was not a bad-looking person.

In fact, when you'd first laid eyes on him, you'd been pleasantly surprised. You knew nothing about him, except that he needed a date to the Christmas Ball and was the nephew of someone your mother was desperate to impress. But he was tall, and handsome, and had a charming smile.

Your mother, eager to climb the social ladder, had finally received an invitation to join the ladies' aid group she'd been lusting after for ages. They raised money for charities, hosted parties and dances, and gossiped about everyone in town. When they finally asked her to join, you thought she might faint from excitement.

So when the secretary's nephew suddenly found himself single a week before the Christmas Ball the ladies had been planning for months, your mother graciously volunteered you to be his date.

It had been suggested that the two of you get to know each other before the dance, so he'd been invited to tea, with your parents present. He'd been funny, and charming, and polite. After it was determined that you were a decent match, your mothers planned your next date: he'd pick you up, take you to a nice dinner in a respectable and well-lit restaurant, and then bring you to the dance. You only had a week to prepare, after all.

The night of the dance, Wilfred showed up on time and dazzled your mother with his dashing smile during the required small-talk. He was clean-cut, respectful, and set to inherit a fortune. Everything a young lady is supposed to want in a man.

And then you got know him.

The ride to the restaurant was quiet but tolerable. You weren't exactly comfortable with him yet, but you did your best to appear confident and interesting. After you'd been seated and the waiter came over to take your orders, Wilfred ordered for you: Veal. Rare.

Giving him the benefit of the doubt, hoping that maybe he was ordering out of habit for the old girlfriend, you quickly told the waiter that actually, you'd like something else. You changed your order, and when the waiter scurried away with his head ducked, you received a hushed lecture on being an embarrassment as the vein in Wilfred's forehead throbbed threateningly at you.

You sat there quietly, not quite sure what to say. You hadn't realized that not wanting to eat a raw baby animal would be such a polarizing issue.

The main course was a silent and tense affair. You forced yourself to eat half of your meal, which was usually something you enjoyed, but tonight it had trouble going down. Wilfred lightened up and started talking again by dessert, but you were wary of him after the veal fiasco. What would it take to really set him off?

He'd turned the charm back on by the time you arrived at the venue that was hosting the Christmas Ball. He joked with the boy who checked your coats, greeted chaperones with a brilliant smile, and steered you to the refreshment table to pick up two cups of punch.

A boy you recognized from church was also at the table, so you said hello to him. As casual acquaintances sometimes do.

Wilfred sat down the punch, grabbed your arm, and hastily escorted you to a table full of bored-looking couples. He quickly introduced you to all of his friends, whose names you forgot immediately, then sat down and proceeded to ignore you.

The girls sat quietly while the boys talked loudly over each other. You made yourself look busy by admiring the decorations; red velvet fabric and gold accents everywhere. Very coordinated.

After a while, someone began passing around a silver flask. You reached for it when it came to you, figuring it might take the edge off, but it was snatched from your grasp before you could take a sip.

"Ladies don't drink." Wilfred took a swig and handed the flask to the next man, completely passing over the girl on his other side. A few of the girls at the table snickered behind their hands.

You didn't know what to do. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks from embarrassment. You took solace in the fact that this would be your final date with him. There was absolutely no way you'd allow yourself to be subjected to this again.

Trying to look unbothered, you scanned the crowd for a familiar face. Any familiar face. Your eyes landed on your mother, who was waving you over. Thank God. Your mother wasn't usually a welcome sight, but tonight, she'd do. You excused yourself, and went to her.

"Dearest! This is Mrs. Penbury, without whom this wonderful event would not have been possible, and her lovely children: Victoria and Ralph. They're twins!"

"Hello," you said with fake enthusiasm, making brief eye contact with each Penbury.

Mrs. Penbury gave you a warm welcome before flitting off to straighten a crooked garland. Your mother rushed to help her, leaving you with two people you'd known for approximately three seconds.

"Oh, aren't you just darling?" Victoria remarks, looking you up and down and making you feel like a specimen under a microscope. "Come with me, you must meet the girlies!" She grabs your hand and drags you away.

"It was nice to meet you," you call back to Victoria's brother with a friendly smile before you disappear into the crowd with her.

When Victoria reaches her table full of girlfriends, she snakes an arm around you and introduces you as the daughter of the club's newest member.

You stand there awkwardly, letting everyone inspect you and introduce themselves, until the one called Ernestine stands and announces that she'd like to visit the powder room. The entire table rises, purses in hand, and Victoria's hand on your back guides you along with them. You were shocked to be included in something as sacred as a group trip to the ladies' room so soon, and you went along with them happily. This was much better than sitting silently at Wilfred Carmichael's side.

When the door was closed, everyone opened their bags and pulled out their own flasks. Apparently ladies DO drink, Willie-boy.

The girls compare what they've brought, and begin sampling from each other's dainty little bottles. You had nothing to offer, but you were included anyway. And you were grateful for it.

"Who are you here with?" the one called Enid asks.

"Wilfred Carmichael!" Victoria answers for you. The girls give each other knowing looks.

"Oh, honey. You're gonna need more than a drink to deal with HIM," a girl whose name you've forgotten says sympathetically, digging into her purse. She comes up with a small silver case, then turns her back to you as she fiddles with something on the sink.

"Come on!" she says, pointing to a line of white powder on the marble. You shift awkwardly, not sure what she's asking of you.

"Darling, have you never had nose candy before?" You shake your head, a blush creeping into your cheeks.

"Here, watch me." Several girls demonstrate, and when you think you've finally figured it out, you take your turn.

WOW.

"Look how cute she is!" "I can't believe we got to witness her first time!" "We're so bad!" All the girls seem to be talking and giggling at once, but you don't mind. Better in here than out there.

Victoria leans down for her turn, then comes back up to shout, "Let's dance!" Flasks are returned to purses, the silver case is put away, and the girls move as one out the door and onto the dance floor.

You all dance together as a group, laughing and enjoying yourselves, until you feel fingers circle your upper arm. You look up to see the glaring face of Wilfred Carmichael. He's so angry, you can see the rage coming off him in waves. Suddenly, you don't feel much like dancing anymore. You let him lead you back to the table, and sit there quietly, heart pounding.

After a few minutes, you begin to wonder why. Why did you let him ruin your good time? Wilfred isn't the boss of you. This is your first damn date. He has no claim on you, and no right to make you feel this way.

Before you can get up and walk away, his friend's flask is passed around again. Wanting to make a statement before you go, you grab it. He snatches it from your hand and brandishes it at your face.

"Ladies don't drink," he said, firmer this time.

"Watch me," you challenge, grabbing it back and taking a gulp of the fiery liquid. A hush fell over the table as you tried to mask your disgust at the taste. Wilfred's face begins to turn a horrifying shade of puce, and you decide that now would be a great time to disappear.

You slam the flask on the table, grab your purse, and walk away. It was as simple as that. But the multiple kinds of alcohol combined with the "nose candy" from earlier seem to hit you all at once. Instead of rejoining Victoria and her friends, you focus your energy on making your way to the restroom, just needing to sit quietly for a moment.

Miraculously, you make it there and into a stall. You close your eyes and breathe deeply. The door opens and lets in the noise from outside for a few seconds, and you hear a herd of heels clacking toward you. Maybe they won't realize you're there.

"Darling, are you alright?" a friendly voice attached to red heels asks from outside the stall where you sit, trying to control your breathing.

"Yes, just needed a minute."

"Victoria, is that…?" someone whispers quietly. The group quickly figures out who you are, and asks you to come out and join them.

"Feeling a little sickly, dearie? It's just because it's your first time, happened to all of us. Here, try this." One of the girls - Izzy, maybe? - digs into her purse and hands you a small white pill.

"What is it?" you ask suspiciously.

"It'll make you feel better, I promise," she says with a smile.

What the hell. You swallow it dry, and they cheer. Growing suspicious at their enthusiasm, you ask again: "What was it?"

"Just a little pick-me-up, doll, don't worry your pretty little head about it. Let's go back out, shall we?" Victoria smile is so intense, it's a little frightening.

"I'll be along, I just need a moment more," you tell them. They shrug and leave without you.

You begin feeling strange. Stranger than before. Realizing that it was not going to get better, and that you did not want to spend all night hiding in this restroom - or worse, having your mother find out why you're ill and alone - you fix your hair in the mirror, grab your purse, and decide to make a break for home before it gets worse.

You spot the exit and march toward it with your eyes on the floor, but instead of walking through the doorway, you walk into a body.

"Sorry!" you both cry at once. You look up to see a handsome young gentleman with a nervous face, and a sprig of mistletoe above him.

"Do I have to kiss you in order to pass?"

"Pardon?" he asks, his widening in confusion.

You point up, and he follows your finger to the mistletoe.

"Oh! No! I'm-- it's not-- I don't--" His panicked face turns red as he stammers, and you immediately regret teasing the young man. You hated to think you'd made someone feel as bad as Wilfred had made you feel tonight. You rise up to kiss him on his burning cheek, and he stops spluttering.

"Merry Christmas," you say with a smile, side-stepping him and continuing toward the exit.

You made it outside and breathed in the wonderfully frigid December air, feeling briefly reinvigorated, before a meaty hand belonging to Wilfred Bloody Carmichael closed on your upper arm again. In your haste to escape, you'd forgotten your coat.

You whirled around with a glare.

The confrontation that followed largely remains a mystery to you. Your brain had grown more than a little fuzzy at this point, but you definitely remember a "How DARE you!" and a "You TROLLOP!" You countered with a "YOU DON'T OWN ME" and a slap to the face before stomping off, in the cold, without a coat. You were still amazed that you made it home without freezing to death.

Your mother had been angry with you the next morning, but you did your best to piece together what happened and share the parent-appropriate parts of the night. One look at the finger-shaped bruises on your arm was all it took for your father to declare that Wilfred Carmichael's name was never to be spoken in his house ever again.

At least one good thing came out of that night….

Or so you'd thought at the time.

On a beautiful spring day in the park, standing on the bridge above the happy little ducks with the person you loved most in the world, you realized it was actually two.

[nevermindirah]

dirah what are your thoughts on booker and buffy meeting. would they be friends? would they have fun death related stuff to discuss?? inquiring minds want to know!

Booker and Buffy!!!!

Ok first of all an essential fact to know about Buffy is that her formative trauma, before she became the slayer and got a whole boatload of new traumas, was that her dad left. Booker would meet her and immediately go Dad Mode Activate.

I'm picturing two different versions of the same scene, one when Buffy's 15, pre-show, when she's only just recently become the slayer, another when she's all grown up after the show is over. Booker finds himself in Southern California for some reason, one thing leads to another, here he is in an alleyway getting his ass handed to him. A tiny blonde person appears and ends the fight by causing Booker's opponent to disappear into a cloud of dust.

Booker's thinking oh huh I've heard about vampires, guess Andy wasn't making that up, maybe this is the slayer?

Buffy meanwhile is warily eyeing how the enormous gash down the side of this guy's neck seems to be healing itself up like nothing she's ever seen before. "What kind of demon are you?" is the obvious question, to Buffy at least.

Booker explains that he's just a regular human except for the immortality, she's like "weird", he's like "yeah", he asks if she's the slayer, they have a whole exposition dump banter thing to establish their respective universes' rules to each other's fandoms, it's fun and charming and made all the better by the fact that it's not written by Joss Whedon, entertaining all around! Buffy's a little put out that she's got nowhere near the world record on coming back from the dead. She died twice! That's a lot of times to come back from! Booker assures her that this is indeed an impressive number for a mortal and she's not missing out on anything fun by not having died more.

In the version with teen Buffy, Booker says, "I heard slayers were young but merde, you're way too young to be out here doing this. I feel like I should buy you an ice cream to thank you for saving me from possible double immortality."

Buffy makes some kind of joke I can't think of right now but she agrees she'd rather not have a destiny and yeah actually ice cream sounds great.

So they go get ice cream and they have a nice chat about what bullshit it is to be stuck with a supernatural gift-curse thing that turns your whole life to shit. Booker listens to her complain about how being the slayer is ruining all of her clothes and the old guy they assigned to mentor her doesn't get how much that matters to her. Her watcher doesn't get it and maybe Booker doesn't quite get it either but he cares that it matters to her so he listens and he says supportive things and when they part he gives her a nice big dadly hug and it's wonderful 😭

In the version where Buffy's a grownup, Booker offers to buy her a drink and they spend hours at whatever nearby bar commiserating about the various indignities of their respective bullshit destinies.

Buffy asks how old he is, then when her reaction to his answer is "huh you're the same age as my high school boyfriend" Booker gets to have a moment of WHAT, bc age gap discourse is silly in supernatural contexts but also she was sixteen and Booker is feeling very dad feelings about this kid who had to grow up way too fast.

He tells her about his kids and she tells him about her baby sister who's sort of her child bc some monks magic'ed her up out of Buffy's dna. As far as Buffy knows there's only ever been one slayer who gave birth and that didn't turn out super well, but now being the slayer isn't a one at a time thing, maybe being a mom is something she could do? If she wanted that? It feels like a lot to risk, and Booker tells her that parenting is so much scarier and harder than fighting bad guys but also it's the best damn thing.

They maybe play a drinking game about who's seen a weirder villain or had a more embarrassing (near-) death. Buffy's seen an impressive variety of weird demons but Booker's seen an incomparable variety of weird human nonsense and they have to stop doing the drinking game part before they both fall down.

Buffy asks Booker about historical things she always wondered if Angel and Spike were making up. Booker's first thought on Spike: "you willingly had sex with a Victorian?" Then she explains the aesthetic and the trauma bonding and he's like "yeah that tracks". Buffy teases Booker about the possibility that he might someday meet his immortal soulmate, a mystery person who might not even be born yet as they're having this conversation. "You might want to start thinking now about whether you'd be cool with that person affectionately calling you 'old man'." >:)

For those following along, this ask is a response to my tags on this post about coming back wrong except you're just fine it's everyone around you who's wrong now. Buffy didn't come back just fine exactly — Willow magic'ed her out of heaven and she was understandably depressed as shit about it — but Willow 100% "broke [herself] into shards and bloody bargains to get [Buffy] back". And this has gotten me thinking about Booker's mortal family, and especially Jean Pierre. Remember that sweet little kid who wanted his papa to take his favorite doll with him to war to keep him company? What might that little kid have done hoping it would bring his father back?

Immortality had Booker on its shitty destiny list no matter what his family did or didn't do in the hopes it would bring him back alive, but they didn't know that, and the kind of stubborn hope that borders on magic is especially strong in children. I'm imagining Jean Pierre fashioning a golem to go off to Russia and bring back his papa. Someone returns, but is it his papa, with his traumatized mind and mysteriously changed body, or is it some twisted version of his golem wearing his papa's face? And either way why can this seemingly indestructible protector do nothing to stop the cancer? Papa, why?

Well this sure took a turn. Booker and Buffy: friends! With a lot of terrible stuff in common 😭 but charming friend chats too!

[elysianstars]

Fic Teaser: Amaranth

So, this is a preview of my offering for day six of @malflearweek. Day four was a deliberate break, and day five was a less deliberate break because I ended up having to stay 13 hours at work (compared to 'only' 11 hours today). I don't want to rush out more stories I'm not fully satisfied with, so the completed fics for today's and yesterday's prompts will appear...at some point in the future.

Anyway, for now here's this!

His first memory of visiting the Somniel is hazy, dreamlike. Five or six years old, and excited because it was his first trip outside of Firene, to the holy shores of Lythos and then the private sanctum which floated overhead like a cloud. His caretakers impressed the etiquette on him beforehand, how he needed to be on his best behaviour, show due reverence to Queen Lumera and her sleeping child (not that he was capable of causing much trouble back then, besides chattering on silly topics until his breath ran out). A blur of perfect blue skies, delicate white flowers, and curtains of translucent gauze encircling an altar-bed. A figure lying still and silent as the grave, and he had to believe the adults, insisting it wasn't actually death and simply a long, healing slumber.

Queen Lumera's son was a heroic warrior, in the terrible struggle against Fell Dragons a thousand years ago. Struck down by a near-fatal blow, but not before his actions saved all of Elyos for generations to come. Alfred's mother told him the story, and shook her head sadly when he asked if a magical sleep like that would help make him better, too. They aren't Divine Dragons, only humans, so it doesn't work the same way.

Seven years old, and the memories are clearer. That was a bad year, and sometimes he sat miserably confined in a wheelchair, because his legs couldn't be trusted to stand firm, and his lungs couldn't be trusted to draw enough air for activity. Still, when he heard that his family were planning a visit to the Somniel, he begged not to be left behind. He remembers the slow, stubborn struggle of climbing each step to the enchanted bedchamber, to kneel between his parents in prayer, proving he was capable of that without needing to be carried. Queen Lumera waited patiently, indulging a sickly little boy's yearning for inclusion.

Nine years old, and Alfred was growing taller – though not so tall or strong as he wanted – but the figure on the altar looked just the same, peaceful and unchanging. He didn't look injured either, and maybe that meant the spell working on him was almost complete, and soon he'd wake up. Queen Lumera smiled, when Alfred voiced that thought. Perhaps even a goddess liked to hear words of reassurance, sometimes.

Once, Alfred asked her what the Dragon Child was like as an actual child, when he was Alfred's age. Was he obedient or mischievous, lively or shy? What games did he like to play? Did they play the same things a thousand years ago? Instead of answering though, Queen Lumera only said something vague and sad, and then Alfred felt guilty. He'd thought she might enjoy it, reminiscing about when her son was awake, but maybe it only reminded her of what she'd lost. So he didn't ask again, after that.

Eleven, barely. Fatherless and forlorn, in the months since the epidemic's shadow lifted from Firene. Of course they had to wait until all symptoms vanished before travelling, to ensure it couldn't spread. Of course the symptoms lingered in him more than anyone else, brewing restlessness and frustration. He didn't want to act badly though, to upset his mother or sister. For their sake, it was important to try and smile, to be brave for them rather than a burden.

Finally, it was deemed safe. Boarding the ship at Florra Port – the Seablossom which always carried the royal family, with its specially embroidered sails – felt like closing a chapter on their sorrows, as the fresh ocean breezes whirled around him. A return to their normal lives, in a healing realm. Even if only three of them would be crossing to Lythos, this time...

After the standard rituals of their Somniel visit, his mother retired to speak with Queen Lumera alone, in a corner of the tranquil gardens where they wouldn't be disturbed. At the time, Alfred assumed they just wanted a friendly chat, but looking back with an adult's perspective, there were likely politics in play that afternoon, tensions hidden beneath the sunny surface. Mother was worried that Brodia might take advantage of her kingdom's weakened state, wasn't she? She wanted to ask where Lythos stood, if they'd offer support or remain neutral, and didn't like to discuss that in front of the children. Later she'd secure the pact of non-aggression, but it was only in draft at that point, no firm guarantee of safety.

But Alfred wasn't worried, oblivious to such grown-up problems, so while the queens handled matters of state and Vander took Celine to pick peaches in the orchard, he wandered back up to the altar. Trusted as harmless, no longer contagious, and too pious for pranks in a place like this.

Celine sometimes gave him a light scolding, for telling foolish things to the Dragon Child besides prayers. Alfred insisted he'd like it though, hearing something new instead of the same old words repeated every time. Stories of the dolphins who followed the Seablossom, and horse riding lessons, and the delicious marmalade the castle's new chef made. Nothing bad, nothing about plagues or sorrows that might disturb sacred dreams, only the good stuff. Sharing small joys with a person who couldn't go out and find his own.

Maybe if he knew more about all the different things happening in the world, it would encourage him to wake up faster and join in. Queen Lumera's stories made him sound amazing, so surely everyone would be happier, getting to meet him at last.

Thirteen, and another level of appreciation was forming for that lovely face, with its eternally gentle aura. Alfred had enough sense to keep that thought to himself, though. Besides, there was a limit to how attractive someone could actually be, simply lying around, lacking animation or a voice. Like a painting the artist had sketched out, but not filled in the colours yet.

There was no official rule forbidding weird thoughts about deities – and Alfred's family didn't follow those niche religious branches that tried to shame people into chastity – but Queen Lumera showed no inclination to find a king, and never mentioned the father of her child. After a thousand years, maybe personal interests like that just...faded away. Which seemed lonely, but then again, Alfred's mother barely spoke of his father anymore, after a much shorter span of time. It made his chest hurt to dwell on too much – a duller, heavier, less panicky sensation than one of his attacks – and so he decided not to.

Fifteen, and he ignored Celine's sideways stare as he chattered to the dormant dragon, mentioning his retainers and exercise regimes. There was an upcoming festival too, his favourite of the year. Oh, but when the Divine One finally wakes then there's bound to be a huge, once in a lifetime celebration! So he'd better wake soon, because Alfred would hate to miss out on that. Celine sighed, but then in the Somniel's always-perfect sunlight – radiance softened by the layered curtains of this chamber – she smiled a little at her incorrigible older brother.

So the years pass, and Alfred manages to keep going, past milestones everyone feared he'd never reach. Perfecting the training that help strengthen his weak frame, and lessen the strain on his heart. Cheering up everyone who needs to see a happy, prosperous Crown Prince, someone they can place their trust in. The exercises aren't just maintenance, but daily self-reassurance – because if he can run so many laps without struggling, or complete his lance drills without a stumble, then it's solid proof he's okay, pushing back his worries. A sick person, a dying person, couldn't manage that, could they? The sentiments echo back from those around him, building his confidence, even if the muscles don't follow quite the way they should.

The Somniel visits are a family tradition, as much as a religious rite or display of political unity. Not every kingdom does it, but that's up to them. Queen Lumera is always welcoming, ageless and serene. Fresh white roses arrayed over fresh silken sheets, every inch of the chamber pristine, the most holy and well-protected sanctum in all of Elyos. And yet the figure it was arranged for never stirs, time after time.

Until finally, everything explodes into action. Corpse-like monsters invading the land, tainting the bountiful earth of Firene with malice. Rumours that the Divine Dragon was glimpsed soaring over Lythos, when her true form is so rarely taken. The decision to place Alfred on their swiftest ship, to seek guidance from their deity and ensure trouble hasn't spread to those sacred shores.

It has, though. He isn't prepared for what they face in the castle. Corrupted swarming halls where they shouldn't be able to tread, running riot against a small number of attendants. Pure white marble scorched and bloodstained.

And amidst it all, the most beautiful vision Alfred has ever seen. The Divine One, awake and vibrant and glowing with magic, floating on the gold and azure wings of an Emblem.

[bafflement]

Deaged Oz AU - Making New Friends [And Maybe a Few Enemies]

For @maskyartist since you wanted to see just what happens when Tip gets angry. :P

"HEY, FREAK!" An angry yell echoes off the narrow walls of the alley. Lily just ran faster, hoping that she'd be able to outrun her bullies for once. It had happened before, even though it hadn't lasted long in the end. As a Faunus in Mantle, though, she was used to this sort of treatment.

She tripped, stumbling and catching herself on the wall which was all her pursuers needed to catch up with her. Bracing herself for the blows she was surprised to hear another yell from the other end of the alley.

Glancing up, she spied a small, silver haired human boy who looked absolutely furious. A blink and he'd vanished, though. Maybe he was with the others? She hadn't seen him before but there were always more where they came from.

Her main tormentor bought a fist back for the first punch, but even as he lashed out, a figure blocked her sight. It was the boy, but why would he get between her and the bully?

Tip let the older boy hit him, glancing in concern down at the small Faunus girl they had been chasing. He knew how bad things were in Mantle of course, but knowing wasn't the same as seeing. The tiny girl looked half starved, yet these idiots were planning to beat her? No. Not on his watch.

"What exactly do you think you're doing to ny friend?" He spat, feeling a cold anger rising in his gut and not even bothering trying to suppress it. The little girl looked shocked, but he tried to shoot her a reassuring smile in between glaring at the bully. One hand strayed down to the hilt of Old Regrets, and he pulled about an inch of the rapier out of the sheath, knuckles a tight white with fury.

The bully, seeing that, stepped back a pace.

"Who the hell are you and what is she to you? You're not her friend, she doesn't have friends! She's just a filthy Faunus, she doesn't deserve them!"

Tip stomped one small foot, feeling himself start to shake again, though this time it was definitely anger fuelling it.

"She has me. I'm Winter Schnee, by the way." He said it flatly, hoping the split second decision wasn't going to come back to bite him.

"Why would a Schnee care about something like her?"

"I do. Now go away or I'll show you just how well i can use this." He shifted his stance, standing protectively over Liy and drew the blade fully, his eyes afire.

The bullies looked at each other, looked at the small boy wielding what was obviously a Huntsman's weapon, then thought better of the situation, backing away before taking off running.

There was silence for a few seconds, then Tip moved nearer the little girl, who backed up as far as she could, staring up at him with wide, scared eyes.

"Please don't hurt me?"

"I would never do that." Tip's voice was shaking, too, now. He hadn't really been expecting that, and looking back... had he almost thrown a tantrum? He blushed slightly, embarrassed, but just held out a hand to the girl, waiting.

After a minute or so, she took it, bracing herself for another blow. Tip just helped her to her feet, smiling gently.

"I'm Tip. Tip Pine, and you are?"

"But... you said you were a Schnee..."

"Ah, yes. Well, I thought it might make them think twice and it does appear to have worked, so... ready to get out of the alley?"

"You talk kinda funny."

"I'm not from Mantle, therefore my accent is slightly different. Have you learned about kingdoms yet?"

He smiled as this seemed to unleash a torrent of questions from the small girl and he led her out of the alley, grinning up at the others who didn't look massively impressed.

"Pocketsized... you can't just run off like that, what if you'd been hurt?" Jaune sounded worried but also more than slightly resigned at this point. After all, it wasn't the first time Tip had gone off somewhere.

"I wasn't. And I was just in time to stop someone else being hurt so I would count that as a victory, personally. Guys, this is... I'm sorry, i don't think I ever got your name?"

"Lily." She muttered, shyly, staring around at all the armed teenagers in front of her. Blake had elected not to come on this particular excursion and Weiss tended to avoid Mantle, but the others all just smiled at her in welcome.

"Hi, Lily!" Oscar greeted, bouncing slightly. "I'm Oscar, Tip's my brother. It's okay, you're safe now, nobody's going to hurt you while we're around!

"Aww, Pocketsized, are you making new friends without us, now?" Nora cooed, winking at a still visibly embarrassed Tip.

"Maybe? She needed help, Nora, I couldn't just leave her there, they were about to hit her!" Tip's voice rose in pitch slightly as he spoke, though from the way his eyes widened, it had been unintentional.

"Regular knight in shining armor, huh, kid..." was Yang's contribution, though she looked amused.

"I think it's cute." Ruby said, grinning over at Tip who would rather like the floor to swallow him now, please.

"You can stay with us for awhile, if you like? It might mean the bullies stay further away for a little bit, why were they following you, anyway?"

"They don't like that I'm not human... it's Mantle, though, mummy said I needed to get used to it."

Tip's eyes went strangely hard at that. "Thinking about it, there's someone I know you should probably meet. The problem is, he's in Atlas and your family would be worried if we just took you! Would you be able to show us where you live? If nothing else, we should check that it's a safe place to be."

Jaune sighed a bit at that, but they all followed a nervous looking Lily as she led them to her home. it wasn't too bad to look at, really. Unlike the dwellings on either side, it appeared well maintained and hopefully that meant that the walls were solid against the sheer cold that Mantle tended to exude.

An older woman in a tattered apron opened the door, then screamed in real terror as she stared at the humans on the other side. Lily rushed to her, clinging to the apron.

"It's okay, mummy! They're my friends, they rescued me from the bad boys!"

"... oh?" The mother sounded suspicious, scanning over the group of young hunters, gaze briefly lingering on tip, who shifted slightly.

"Thank you for rescuing my daughter." She said, eventually, though she still looked suspicious.

"We're hunters, ma'am, it's what we do. I was wondering, however, whether it may be advisable to gain a meeting with Marrow? I'm certain he would want to help as much as he could."

The woman blinked. "You can just casually contact an Ace Operative, can you?"

"Yes, ma'am, I can. I'm Wintertip Pine, by the way." Tip held out a hand, but she didn't take it, scanning his face again. Her eyes widened and her tail twitched in sudden realisation.

"... Winter?" She sounded strangely choked even as Tip's own eyes widened too. Had he known her, somehow?

"Yes, ma'am?" he asked, his voice as level as he could make it.

"Thank you. Just... thank you. Do you have contact information, at all? My husband will want to thank you himself."

"Of course." Tip murmured, rattling off his contact number.

"You can really get us in contact with Specialist Amin?"

"I can indeed, ma'am."

"Foxglove, not ma'am, young one. I have questions, but not today, I suspect? I'll be in contact." She smiled and shut the door, behind it they could already hear Lily start her rapid fire questioning again.

"You do realise that that's gonna spread, right? You just... I really hope you know what you're doing."

"Yes, well. So do I."

[voidthewanderer]

INQUIRING MINDS WISH TO KNOW——>

For the OC Ask Game! ✨Creating your OCs✨

1, 3, 8, 12, 16 and 19 for Ripper, Shae and Arsenic!!!

:)

Please :))

Pretty please :)))

(Don’t make me whip out my quadruple chin!!!)

@anonwyvern || Questions About Creating Your OCs

Under cut for length; I needed to talk about my babiesss.

What was the first element of your OC that you remember considering (name, appearance, backstory, etc.)? 

Shae: Shae was appearance, though and through. She'd gone through so many changes; species changes as she traveled through fandoms and back and forth between getting pulled from them to be from original concepts. Being online during the massive point online where "Mary Sue bad and you're a terrible person for making them!", she kind of just went onto this backburner with everything; looks, appearance, story, everything.

Ripper: Mostly appearance, but a super loose as hell backstory as well. Rips was originally a Left 4 Dead OC and of a concept that never actually made it to the game at that. Most of what did exist of his backstory was just that he was an asylum escapee who was turned. Rather than the straight jacket being closed up, his arms were free. He's had the most changes over his entire timespan.

Arsenic: Appearance 100%. He actually was originally a concept made by my nephew! He wanted a zombie chef, so I made a zombie chef!

3. How did you choose their name? 

Shae: I honestly don't even remember where her name came from. It wasn't exactly a popular name when I made her, damn probably about seventeen years ago now? Maybe longer, I think.

Ripper: Was originally a sort of punny name. "A scream ripping at one's throat". Where Joseph Trumoil came from, is one of those things that just... happened. Sometimes names just get stuck in my head. I'll quote him directly from the WIP of Chapter 26 of Mnemonic Impressions for why it's still Ripper: "Thanks to my old line of work, if it were humanly possible at that time, I could rip someone apart and know exactly how to do it to cause the most damage; didn’t help I used t’ do some body building. My friends were… fucked up t’ say the least."

Arsenic: I kinda thought it would be funny for an undead, zombie chef to have his name be the same as a poison.

8. What (if anything) do you relate to within their character/story? 

Shae: Let's just say that I am actually very mouthy like Shae it. And, just like with her current situation with Sinjin, I need to learn how to keep my mouth shut so I don't get hurt.

Ripper: There's actually not much story wise I relate to with Rips. If anything, I'm envious of my own character. He's charismatic, charming, his style is impeccable. I guess he did get a lot of my "do no harm, but take no shit" personality.

Arsenic: The cooking! Arsenic is literally probably the person I would become (sans the murders) if I actually stayed in the food service industry.

12. What have you found to be most difficult about creating art for your OC (any form of art: writing, drawing, edits, etc.)? 

Shae: It's actually been difficult to keep her silver tongued, combative, defiant, but also keeping her... alive. In all honesty, she would probably be dead by now if I didn't mellow her out a bit. She's legit supposed to be as vile as Sinjin is, cutting some completely reprehensible stuff, but I also know that she would have been long since dead before her story even started.

Ripper: No lie, actually nailing down his official design. Every time I think I have something solid, I go "oh, this would work with him!" and then things would change. Rinse and repeat. Now it's more just trying to nail down exactly who I wanna build his facial structure off of, because William Treat is EXACTLY how he smiles, but I also adore him having sharp features like Dum Dum from Cyberpunk 2077 has. Trying to blend the two together is... fun.

Arsenic: HIS FACE. HIS FUCKING FACE. I DID IT TO MYSELF BUT GOD WHY

16. What is something about your OC can make you cry? 

Shae: Her story. Like, god her story is fucked up and just the fact that so much about her kids was kept from her and knowing everything she's gone through, that she's the way she is through so much tragedy and just out of a necessity to survive.

Ripper: Also his backstory, but also like... this man is such a sweetheart and sensitive. Be it because he's just being so goddamn cute or because he's going through an existential crisis, he's probably gonna say something that would either turn me into a mushy mess or bawling my eyes out because why did I hurt you this much.

Arsenic: There's two things with him. When he lets his walls down and lets people in, showing that he's not just a hardened ghoul who hates everything around him. Also, if anything were to happen to Crow, this man's heart would absolutely shatter and he'd probably lose his goddamn mind. That sort of mental torment of feeling like he's lost his soul mate, knowing how he'd react to it, especially now with them in his life again.

19. What is your favorite fact about your OC?

Shae: Not so much of a fact of the character itself (because imho anything I really say with her will give away parts of Addicted), but the fact that she's the second OC I've ever created! She's my second oldest OC, being seventeen (plus) years old.

Ripper: He's only second generation American born in his family! His parents are the first born, his grandmother is from Palermo, his grandfather from Verona.

Arsenic: No matter what, Arsenic was meant to cook and I don't mean that just by his concept alone. He's someone who would be considered to have a natural born talent for what he does and I genuinely cannot think of anything else I would have ever even considered putting him in. If it wasn't a chef, it would've been a cafe owner.

[melodyofthevoid]

“It hurts that you still can’t trust me after all this time”

(Once more credit to @shmunter for these lovely kiddos)

Illiana liked closure. She liked having things begin, and then end. A mission completed meant an objective happened, she got things done, and that was that. Questions had answers. Effects had causes. 

Taming that curiosity took some doing, and she regretted her pursuit of some things, without question. 

But she hated uncertainty. 

So she hated this. 

She hadn’t seen Milo at all in the last few months. Aside from when he’d attempted to hunt her down and drag her kicking and screaming back to Aegis. Though that wasn’t exactly him, it certainly soured the relief of him being “back”. Especially when that was… 

What good was having her best friend again if he was too scared of her to exist in the same room. 

She let out a sigh, shaking her head to clear out those thoughts. Looking at her communicator and pulling up her messages with Milo. 

<-Why is it that all of the drones look the same. Surely there’s got to be some kind of reason for that. Do you think they go on breaks?

->didn’t you interact with them? 

<-No. It was pretty isolated. I pretty much only had Pris and Dell as my social circle. 

->Yikes

Classic Milo. She could almost hear his voice draw out the “y”, his face do the stupid little grimace he did when joking around. There was that ache again, the knowledge that she missed him. That there wasn’t anything that she could do about it. 

The codes merged, the fabricated Milo and her friend were wrapped up into one person. Her friend and the hunter programmed by Pricilla’s goons were the same and when it came to her? 

Pricilla won. 

Milo could be talking to Vex, or Fin, or Olli like nothing happened and the second she was anywhere in eyesight he either shut down and fought her or vanished completely. It was almost impressive how quickly it took over, even at the mere mention of her name. After a few more attempts she’d stopped trying, resigning herself to her fate. Of losing the first real friend she’d had. 

Olli and Vex thankfully intervened and acted as go between before shoving a pair of communicators between them. 

Then an idea popped into her head. A genius little idea. Illiana almost cheered, but refrained. She didn't have that much of an ego, plus Milo would have to. Well. Agree to it.

Otherwise she'd just be talking to a wall. More than usual at least.

<-I want to try something, just a little test

-> not sure i like the sound of that but alright 

<- There’s a door in the compound that’s kinda thin. Do you think we could talk there? You’d never see me but I

Illiana stopped, staring at the message before backspacing. Face ablaze. Fans whirring as they tried to cool her circuits. 

Try again, sound a bit less… needy. She didn’t want to scare him off.

<- There’s a thinner door in the compound by the sitting room. Want to try and talk? Just through the door.

There wasn’t a response at first, just a series of dots that appeared and disappeared at random. Maybe it was a bad idea. Maybe it hadn’t been long enough, he hadn’t adjusted and it was too soon- 

->let’s give it a shot. see you in five.

She beamed, cackling a little as she responded.

<- You’ll hear me in five idiot. 

-> >:p

Even in spite of everything, she couldn't help but feel giddy. This had to work, it just had to.

Olli gave her a sidelong look as she sprinted down the hallway, and she made sure to flip them off as she did. Nothing was going to break her stride. This was progress! 

The room, and by extension, door in question was a side hall, connecting the two halves of the mishmashed building that Vex called a lab. They’d all had to hunker there after Pricilla tried (again) to raid Fin’s bar. It was too much of a risk. 

In any case the room was fairly barren, which was fine. Footsteps on the other side signaled that Milo had arrived, much to Illiana’s delight. 

That or someone else. Better to check. 

"Milo? You there?"

A moment's silence. Then another.

"Mhm. I'm here."

It was muffled and tinny, quieter than Milo was before. Slightly forced, even. 

"It's good to hear you," Illiana pressed on, "I'd almost forgotten what you sounded like!"

There was more silence before Milo spoke up again.

"S-same. It was a bit... distorted. I think."

“Not too distorted. Can’t have you forgetting my performances! You... do still remember those, right?” 

“Right- right those. I...” 

He trailed off voice small and hesitant. 

“Milo?” 

There wasn’t a response, and Illiana felt herself wilt. 

“It hurts you still don’t trust me. Or can’t, I guess. I- I know she did- I know she messed with your head but am I still scaring you? Even just my voice? Do you really think I’m- that I’d-“

Hurt him. Again. 

And saying that it hurts he didn’t trust her? What was she thinking?! It wasn’t his fault. None of this was. She’d at least make this easier for as long as she had him here. 

“No- no you don’t have to answer that, if you don’t want to. I’m sorry. You can... you can text. I always talked enough for the both of us...”

It was a lame attempt at humor and she knew it. Still, she got a ping on her comm. 

->thanks. 

Selfish, a voice that was both familiar, and entirely unwelcome whispered. This wouldn’t have happened if you’d not put him in danger. It never would’ve come to this. She wanted her friend back, and for what? To wrap him up in more upheaval, until the next blow came? 

->didn’t mean to shut down it’s hard to separate the noise 

“No, that’s... it’s awful. It’s so shitty what she did and... I really miss you. And it’s not fair to you because I got you hurt-“

->she used me to hurt you. that’s not remotely ur fault. she just sucks 

It caught her off guard, and she sputtered, letting out a startled laugh. Staring at her screen in disbelief. 

“Y-yeah. She’s a real piece of work.” 

->the worst. 

“A bitch.”

->mega-bitch

They laughed, and Illiana pretended that there wasn’t a door, for a moment. That she could open her optics, and see Milo. Give him a hug. Maybe in a while she could. This was certainly a step. She didn’t know how big, but a step. 

Milo’s laughter quieted, and he leaned (at least, she assumed he did) against the door.

->hey if we keep- if I keep hearing you, it'll get better. we’ll keep trying.

"I hope so."

Illiana leaned against the door, pressing a hand to the metal. There was a soft clank against the other side. At least for now, it was a bit of closure.

[aseriesofunfortunatejan]

Ok so I saw ur posts about danganronpa s and even though you won't play it I HIGHLY reccomed you watch nagito and korekiyo's interaction I'm pretty sure you'll find something of interest, let's just say a certain person makes a very brief appearance

What a lovely recommendation! It made me smile that someone would come recommend me an interaction between two of my skrunklies, but I had a pretty good idea who that certain person might be.

I'm surprised I'd never heard about this before. This is probably on me, since I had Danganronpa S tags filtered for a really long time, but I did tend to look at it anyway when I browsed the Korekiyo tag, so I'm still a little bit surprised.

(Like I said jokingly when I watched the video earlier today, "maybe the "korekiyo stan" "danganronpa s hater" venn diagram is more of a circle than I thought".)

I'd have loved a video with the Japanese dub, but this is what I was shown!

I mentioned in the past that I thought Sister might never make an appearance in Danganronpa S, because there are no sprites in Korekiyo's swimsuit set that seem to represent her. I guess I neglected to take into account the amount of events with his regular clothes, and the possibility that she might make... the smallest of appearances, with no change in sprites. (Show us more Shinguuji boobie, cowards!!)

If I may just comment on this event, which may be the only DRS event I've watched in full, Komaeda's dialogue seems really unnatural and forced. The things he says seem interesting enough to explore with his character, but the event is rushed and the way he speaks doesn't feel quite right. This doesn't give me a much better impression of the game, being that comparatively, fanfiction is free and some writers do a surprisingly good job at portraying canon characters, which doesn't appear to be a given here. That being said; "did Korekiyo seem different rn? ... ... ...No I'm probably just feverish and wrong. :)" is so ME and it's ICONIC and it's my EVERYTHING and

meeeeeeee.

@purplepadlock mentioned that this ending also looked like a reference to the Despair Disease which is famously another one of my skrunklies. I'm not so sure about that, because this event is about Komaeda having a cold in the first place, but being that the writing already seems a bit off and awkward to me... it could be that this was the intention here, or that the Japanese text does it a little better.* Either way, 1. still an iconic line, and 2. seeing Komaeda mention being sick in this room at the very start also reminded me of the Despair Disease right away.

Enough with my having caught the SDR2 Disease of making everything about Komaeda - this appearance of Sister is an interesting concept, though I'm disappointed by the idea that... this is all we get. It brings up a lot of questions; one thing that was never made too clear was how Sister worked as a tulpa. That she'd appear here, after Korekiyo tried to leave the hospital because of the bad memories it brought back, seems reminiscent of the way an alter in a system with Dissociative Identity Disorder may be triggered and brought to the front by a specific setting. I am, however, of the opinion that Shinguuji is definitely not meant to be a DID system, seeing as DID was already featured in a previous game, in which it was mentioned by name, and it would seem very weird for it not to be at all mentioned this time around.* Plus, his narrative is nowhere close to one of DID, and as bad as Fukawa's representation was, the childhood trauma as described by Touko to be the cause of Shou's existence seems too accurate to be thrown out the window for a new writing of the disorder years later. Thus, the question is: is she always here with him? Does she share his body at all times? How frequent are the instances of Sister talking in his stead? This was already very confusing in V3, and this event does not help.

Regardless, more instances of Korekiyo's odd "suddenly appearing more feminine" are interesting to me - because if we saw it often enough, we might be able to get an idea of its parameters. If this is its only instance in DRS, it's still not enough, even ignoring that I'd rather this had been done better in V3 in the first place.

*I recall seeing a Japanese tumblr user call out an event featuring Hinata and Komaeda for coming across completely differently in Japanese and English. The English translation made Komaeda seem creepier and forceful, whereas the original text had Hinata be the one to contribute certain elements of the event.

*As a note, I have a vague memory of seeing that Shou and Shinguuji had interactions as fellow serial killers, but 1. I might be making this up, and 2. I wonder if a comparison was ever drawn between their respective multiplicity. I remember talking about this... I don't remember any of the details.

featuring the current only Korekiyobsessed Danganronpa Wiki staff member

[anticomedygarden]

Happy 60th birthday, Percy!

-

ao3 link

-

Percy couldn't remember a time Camp Half-Blood had ever been so full.

Not even his first summer, back before the wars when the gods were so damn horny and irresponsible, were there so many people (and mythical beings) packed into the space, made even more impressive by the fact that everyone seemed to be outside on the grounds, and Percy absolutely loved it. He hadn't seen some of these people in years, maybe even decades; apparently, two half-bloods reaching 60 years old - the first in centuries if he didn't include Nico and Hazel - was a big deal.

Of course, a gathering this size was sure to attract more vile attention, and someone had already spotted a couple hellhounds prowling around the wards, but whatever. Somebody younger could deal with it, someone who didn't have creaky knees.

Suddenly, his attention was drawn to a bright blue streak racing toward the steps of the Big House.

"Grandpa!" little Clio yelled as she catapulted herself into Percy's lap. As the oldest child of Percy and Annabeth's youngest child, Clio was their second youngest grandchild at only three years old. He figured her little brother was probably being passed around somewhere in the throng of people which was how she'd managed to slip away from her moms.

"Hey, squirt," he said, spitting out a piece of her wavy black hair as she got herself situated. "Are you having fun?"

She nodded vigorously. "Aunt Clarisse showed me where to punch someone so they go to sleep, and Aunt Rachel gave me paint tattoos!" She thrust her arms out to reveal both hands covered in roses and vines, and he stifled a laugh. That was sure to go over well with both her parents.

"That's so cool, sweetie," he said while rooting around in his pocket. "Hey, guess what I have!"

Somehow, her big grey eyes lit up even brighter. "What?"

"Candy!" She shrieked  at the sight of the shiny red Kit-Kat wrapper - her favorite, a trick he had picked up from his mom. He quickly unwrapped it and broke it in half. It was his birthday, after all.

A few minutes later found them playing rock, paper, scissors, both of them with sticky hands from the half-melted chocolate bar.

She giggled when he lost the fifth round in a row. "You suck at this."

His mouth dropped open. "Where did you learn that word?" Honestly, Percy couldn't care less what words she used, but kids always loved it when they thought they got away with saying a bad word.

This time was no different. "Uncle Magnus," she said gleefully.

His eyes widened in mock surprise. "Did you get to see Uncle Magnus today?"

She smiled and nodded.

Before he could question her further, Lucy, their youngest daughter, appeared at the bottom of the steps. "Dad, have you seen - oh, there she is. Clio, what did I say about running off?"

Mischief danced in his granddaughter's eyes. "Uh oh."

He laughed, knowing full well that the little girl was allowed to go wherever she wanted at Camp since no matter where she went, there would be a demigod, nymph, or some other mythical being ready to lead her back to her parents.

Then, Lucy spotted the Kit-Kat wrapper. "Dad! She's already had three cupcakes today!"

He stared Clio right in the eyes. "Uh-oh." She giggled again, and he looked back at his daughter who was glaring at him fiercely with eyes that perfectly matched her mother's. "She's my granddaughter, and it's my birthday. I can give her as much candy as I want." He started tickling her then and said a silent thank you that she was still small enough to lay down on his lap even while convulsing with laughter.

"Speaking of your birthday, there are a ton of people who want to talk to you down there." Her hands were on her hips, a habit she still retained from childhood. Anytime she wanted him or Annabeth to do something, this was the exact stance they got: pointed look and hands on hips. He caved almost every time, but then again, Annabeth had always been stronger than him.

Now, though, there was another one on his lap, giggling and wanting something completely different from him. "They can wait a little bit longer."

Lucy huffed but didn't say anything, just sat in the chair opposite him. "Where's mom?"

"I think I saw her with Aunt Piper," he answered. "Speaking of, where is your other child? And your wife?"

She waved a hand. "With Grandma." Of course they were. At 78 years old, Sally Jackson was as spry and magnetic as ever.  

In fact, she was coming up the hill with an infant in her arms.

"Mom, how do you always have a kid?" he said, and was pleased to see Lucy stand up to make a seat for her grandmother.

"Oh, no, don't get up for me. I just wanted to pop up here with the baby to say hello." She waved his little arm. "And to answer your question, son, it's grandma powers."

Again, he didn't question her, though he thought quietly that Annabeth didn't seem to attract children the way his mother did.

"Nana, El!" Clio piped from her place on Percy's lap, hands stretching toward her great-grandmother. Ever since her little brother had been born, she had been fascinated with him, constantly wanting to hold him and play with him.

Lucy gave her a stern look. "What do we say?"

"Please!"

Sally gave Percy a knowing look. It hadn't been very long ago when Lucy's older brother had done almost the exact same thing.

Tamping down the odd, bittersweet feeling, he got Clio situated to hold the baby: sitting up on his thighs with his hands under hers, a watchful eye trained on them between her wild strands of dark hair. "Go ahead, mom."

Gently, Sally lowered the baby into their arms. When he was secure, Percy allowed himself to fully appreciate the moment with his family. Four generations of Jacksons, all on the porch of the Big House. One mortal, one demigod, and two legacies. He never thought he'd see the day.

Of course, this party really was special for his mother. Mortals normally weren't allowed inside the Camp boundaries, but an allowance was made for today, just for his and Annabeth's family.

Sally leaned against his chair. "I remember when you looked like that at your sister."

"Mom, I was 17 when Estelle was born."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "And? I had never seen you sit so still. You had that same look in your eyes when Paul handed her to you."

"Sure, mom." He knew she was right, but he would never reach an age where ribbing wasn't funny.

She squeezed his ear. "Hey, I wanted to tell you that we're probably not gonna stay super long."

He gave her an offended look. "It's barely even 2!"

"We are very old, son. Besides, we spent the whole day with you on Annabeth's birthday. This party is really for you demigods, anyway, and us old coots have to be in bed by 8."

So, maybe that was true. "Fine."

"Hey, I was wondering where you all were," Lucy's wife Gina said as she appeared at the bottom of the stairs. With dark skin and mischief in her eyes, she was a very distant legacy of Mercury that Lucy had met at NRU in college. "Percy, Annabeth wants to talk to you."

"Excellent." If there was one person he would always get out of his chair for, it was her. "Where is she?"

Gina picked Elias up, and Percy set his granddaughter on the ground, grinning when she took off toward the crowd with barely a 'bye-bye.'

"Last I saw, she was at the desserts table."

"Thanks," he said and started heading down.

On his way, he was stopped no less than a dozen times by various people wishing him a happy birthday, some a happy 44th anniversary of the end of the Titan War.

Finally, he made it to Annabeth and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Hey, wise girl."

"Seaweed brain!" She turned around in his arms and kissed him as if they hadn't seen each other less than a half hour ago.

"Really? In front of the food?" their oldest child Nathan asked. At 34, he had seen his parents kiss countless times yet always seemed to have the same reaction.

"Yeah, guys, come on, really?" the son of Hermes and hero of Olympus asked as he tore into a blue cupcake.

"Hey, Travis," Annabeth said, arms still around Percy's neck. Nathan had already disappeared to the gods knew where, maybe to go find his girlfriend of 10 years, and they probably wouldn't see him again for a while.

Travis waved his cupcake. "We're so old, you guys. We're all getting into our 60s! What the hell happened?"

Just as Percy was about to ask one of his oldest friends to take his crisis somewhere else, Connor popped up out of no where and said, "Okay, bro, let's go find Katie." He then led his brother away to presumably fall into hysterics in the safety of his wife's arms.

Percy and Annabeth looked at each other and burst out laughing.

Eventually, Annabeth sobered and said, "He's not wrong. When Leo asked Bianca-" Nico and Will's daughter "-to play 'Material Girl', she said, 'I'm not playing freaking Taylor Swift,' and kicked him off the stage." She gave him a pointed look. "We're old, babe!"

Percy laughed. "That was news, like, 8 years ago." It was also around that time he realized their one strand of grey hair had turned into several strands, and Shrek was considered a classic. "She might have a point about Taylor Swift, though."

Annabeth gave him her patented 'don't get me started' look, and he wisely shut his mouth.

"What did you need me for?"

She wrinkled her nose. "Oh, I just wanted you to see all this blue food!" She waved a hand toward it all, and he recognized at least a couple of his mom's dishes amidst the blue cookies, blue brownies, blue cakes and cupcakes, and blue pasta noodles. He was practically in heaven.

Annabeth handed him a cupcake and took one for herself, and soon they were walking hand in hand through the crowd that had somehow grown since he first stepped into it.

Most of the faces were vaguely recognizable, people they knew from being the two most famous and revered demigods of their generation. Others, he didn't know. He supposed they were the ones that wanted to see firsthand two demigods that had managed to live so long.

He really couldn't blame them for that.

The rest were people they knew well. Speaking of-

"Magnus, Alex! I'm so glad you guys could come," Percy said when he saw the young blond and his partner. Young was relative, of course. Chronologically, Magnus and Alex were only a couple years younger than him and Annabeth, but that was impossible to know just by looking at them. Both still looked the picture of 16.

There was something to be said there about their perpetual youth as a metaphor for the permanence of death while everyone else aged, but today wasn't the day to think about it. Besides, he liked to leave that kind of thing to Annabeth. Instead, he thought about the novel occurrence of Norse demigod einherjar in Camp Half Blood. There were some Egyptian magicians running around, too. Really put the whole Greek-Roman split fiasco in perspective.

"Yeah, we managed to slip down between meetings," Magnus said. Nearly 45 years later and the Chase Space was going strong, so strong, in fact, that they had opened up several more. It was wonderful, but it was also a lot of work. "Blitz is there now with Hearth."

"Ooh, where'd the blue cupcakes come from?" Alex asked.

Annabeth laughed. "Right over there in the pavilion."

Alex waved in thanks before dragging Magnus over to the food.

Percy turned to Annabeth. "You know what I just realized?"

"What?"

"I get a 10% discount at Burger King now." He was unreasonably excited for it.

She patted him on the back. "Good. You'll finally be able to join me."

If she thought that would rile him up, she was dead wrong. "Are you saying you want Burger King dates?"

"I'd go on a date anywhere with you." Somehow, she said it totally straight faced despite the cheesiness of the line. He appreciated it all the same. The next person they ran into was Grover.

"G-Man!"

"Percy! Annabeth!"

Man, had he missed Grover. The satyr was running an international project to get mythical creatures more involved in environmentalism, and they rarely had a chance to see each other anymore.

"How's the project going?" Percy asked.

Grover beamed. "It's going really well. We just finished planting a bunch of trees in France, and we're gonna go to Canada next to mess with hunters."

Not all of their business practices were strictly legal, but they didn't really need to be, anyway.

Annabeth laughed. "That sounds like a lot of fun."

Grover nodded.

They chatted for a bit longer until Juniper called him over to do something.

From there, they somehow made it to the activities section of Camp, and Annabeth dared him to race her up the climbing wall. She beat him, of course. Just like old times.

Next, they played a game of volleyball against some Roman legacies and won. The legacies were so excited to play with them that they didn't care a couple of 60 year olds beat them.

After that, they ran into Frank and Hazel.

"Hey, you guys," Hazel said. "Happy birthday!"

"Thanks, Hazel," Percy said. He wondered how many times he had heard that phrase today. "How are you?"

She smiled wide, exuberance only multiplied with age. "We're good. We're moving into the new house next week."

"Awesome," Annabeth said. "We'll definitely be there to help."

Hazel clapped. "Thank you so much! We'll do dinner or something, too, alright?"

At 56 and 58, Hazel and Frank were planning to retire in a few years and had recently bought a house right on the Tiber River in New Rome.

"Sounds good," Annabeth answered.

They moved on, mingling throughout the crowd. They talked to a few people, mostly the ones they knew well, and played some more games. Percy was beat badly by Clio at cornhole, but he took the loss like a champ.

Eventually, they made it to the beach, and Percy wasn't surprised to see a black haired man in a bright orange Hawaiian shirt and Bermuda shorts holding a trident on the shore.

Before he could say anything, Annabeth said, "I'm gonna go see if I can find Thalia."

With that, she disappeared back into the crowd.

"Son," Poseidon started. "It is good to see you."

A warmth seeped through Percy's chest. He and his father certainly had one of the best relationships between a demigod and godly parent in the entire Greek pantheon, and, for that, he was forever grateful. It had actually been one of the reasons Zeus loosened the rules about God's visiting their children.

"Thanks, Dad." Percy waited a moment. "Any particular reason you're here?" As good as their relationship was, Poseidon was still a god.

"Can I not just say hello to my son on his birthday?"

Percy just looked at him.

"Fine, I did want to tell you something." Poseidon fidgets with his beard, clearly thinking deeply. "I would like to revisit the subject of your mortality."

Percy supposed he should have seen this coming. He is, after all, Poseidon's favorite son that also just so happened to be transitioning into his senior years, but ever since it became clear that he wasn't going to try to overthrow Olympus with his considerable power, he had gotten used to not being asked to become a god. It had been nice.

"Dad, I don't want to be a god-" he started.

Poseidon held up a hand. "Let me finish, son." He sucked in a breath. "You know that when you were born, it was a huge scandal."

Yeah, he knew. He still had nightmares about the Olympian council voting on whether or not to kill him.

"Despite that, you became a hero of Olympus many times throughout your life, and you have come to be my favorite son. I value your life, which is not something I say lightly."

"Gee, thanks, Dad," he said sarcastically. "I value your life, too."

Poseidon gave him an unimpressed look, then shook his head as if ignoring his son's poor attempt at lightening the mood. When he spoke, Percy was surprised to hear a quaver in his voice. "I find I am deeply saddened at the thought of your death."

And, okay, Percy wasn't expecting that one. Death had always been a constant in his life, something ever present and surrounding. If he hadn't become accustomed to the thought of it, his life would have been much harder. He wasn't looking forward to it, obviously, but he wasn't afraid. It was a miracle he had lived this long, actually.

"Listen, I know I'm getting up there, but I've lived this long. Mortals today can make it to over 100." He didn't need to mention that fighting was getting harder every day, or that his knees creaked and his back ached constantly. He and Annabeth would probably retire to New Athens soon, anyway.

"I am aware, but I just want you to know that when you do die, you and Annabeth both have a place in Atlantis."

A generous offer, but they had decided long ago that Elysium was the place for them. They didn't want immortality or godhood. The only thing they ever wanted was to live their lives, and they had done that, were still doing that. They would go to Elysium happy.

"Thanks, dad, really," he said. "I'll pass that along to Annabeth." He turned, unsure what to do next.

To his surprise, Poseidon pulled him into a bone crushing hug, one his now 60 year old body would take at least a few minutes to recover from.

Poseidon pulled away. "Go, be with your family." He looked down and rubbed an eye.

Percy has to admit that his eyes were getting misty at this point, too. "Love you, dad."

"I love you, too." Poseidon turned to gaze out at the glittering sea, so Percy started making his way back to the party.

Poseidon stopped him with a word. "Percy?"

"Yeah, dad?"

"Happy birthday."

-

A few hours later when the sky was dark and Artemis was high in the sky with her chariot, Percy sat in the stands at a campfire, Annabeth next to him. Most of the guests had left or retired to their cabins, having to put the kids to bed or comply with camp curfew.

Some, though, were still up, and Percy couldn't help but think they made a formidable crowd despite the average age.

Carter and Sadie Kane were seated right next to the fire, experimenting with spells to see which ones could influence the hearth's magic. The flames were already so high and vibrant from the party that their magic wasn't doing much, though.

Farther down the steps were Magnus and Alex who had decided to stay the night rather than go back to Boston. They were talking to the Stolls, Clarisse, and Katie Gardener, which could only bring trouble.

Thalia and Reyna were mingling around the crowd, looking young as ever, as was Apollo, surprisingly. Or not so surprisingly, considering his own adventures as a mortal. Meg McCaffrey was also walking around the fire, throwing things in to see how fast they would incinerate.

Piper and Shel - another mortal, he noted - were talking to Jason and Leo toward the middle of the stands, and Hazel and Frank were roasting marshmallows by the fire with Grover and Juniper.

Just behind Percy and Annabeth, Nico and Will were loudly discussing the latest Marvel movie with Rachel, a debate Percy and Annebeth would surely find themselves drawn into sooner or later.

For now, Percy took a moment to admire his wife. Annabeth, whose hair was more grey than blonde now, who had laugh lines and worry lines, who had never looked more beautiful. She wore all signs of her age like badges of honor - because they were.

He still couldn't believe they had made it this far.

A soft whoosh drew Percy's attention to his left. Beside them, the god of wine had formed out of nowhere, still in a leopard print shirt and looking the same as he did when Percy was 12.

"Fascinating, isn't it?" he said. Percy noticed that the cup in his hand didn't smell like alcohol despite his sentence having ended several years ago. "Mortals, Egyptians, Norse, Romans, and Greeks, all around Hestia's hearth. I never thought I'd see the day."

Percy and Annabeth exchanged an amused glance. "Hey, Mr. D."

"Yes, hello, Peter and Annabelle." He took a sip of whatever was in his cup. "I hope you realize the magnitude of what is in front of you."

Saving them from answering, Chiron trotted up next to his old colleague and said, "It truly is a wonder." He looked straight at Percy and Annabeth. "And it's because of you two."

Percy felt his face heat up, and one look at Annabeth showed hers doing the same.

It was true, though, he realized. None of these people would be here without them.

"I've been doing this for a very long time, and it is rare that any of my students live past their teen years, yet here we are in front of so many that have lived over half a century. I wonder - how long will this last?" Chiron shook his head. "I don't know, but I pray it is permanent."

Dionysus nodded. "Well said. I trust there is room in Cabin 1 for me?"

"Of course."

With that, he stood and walked down the steps of the amphitheatre toward the cabins, away from the fire and the remaining party.

The wine god had gotten much better since the wars and even sometimes acted like he cared, but there were still the rough edges. Percy found that he liked him much more, now.

He was leagues better than a lot of other gods.

Chiron continued. "I'll leave you to the party, but I want you to think about the impact you have had on our worlds." He looked at them sadly. "We will never forget you two."

Once again, Percy's eyes had gone a bit misty, as had Annabeth's. She squeezed his hand. "We're really lucky, you know."

"Yeah," he agreed. They were.

"Hey, I was waiting til the end of the night for this. Come here." She picked up his hand and dragged him to the bottom of the steps, right by the fire. He followed her curiously, sure what else could possibly be happening today. They'd already sung happy birthday, and presents had been sent to their apartment out of necessity for sheer volume.

She looked up at the crowd. "Hey, guys! It's time."

He looked at her, suddenly scared. "Time for what?"

She didn't answer, and he was forced to wait while all of their friends climbed down to the center of the amphitheatre looking way too excited.

Then, Clarisse came around from the side with a small blue cake that looked like a brick with a single candle stuck in it, and he knew exactly what was going on.

"Come on, guys, aren't we too old for this?" he said nervously, slightly afraid that if any of these 50-60 year olds attempted to carry them, they would throw out their backs.

"Nice try, Jackson," Clarisse said. She handed him the plate. "Make a wish."

Even the non Greeks and the rest of the Seven seemed to know what was going on.

"Yeah, Percy, we all wanna see you two get dunked,” Grover said.

Percy turned a betrayed look to him. "G-Man?"

Travis spoke up next. "C'mon, hurry up!"

"Yeah, let's go!" He wasn't sure which one said that.

He looked at Annabeth next. "You're okay with this?"

She smirked. "I organized it!"

Of course she did.

Percy threw his head back and laughed, then blew the candle out without thinking too much.

A cheer went up around the crowd. "To the lake!"

"Wooh!"

And that's how they found themselves being lifted up onto everybody's shoulders and thrown into the lake, having the second best underwater kiss ever.

Tomorrow, they would go home to their apartment in Queens and return to their everyday lives, but they always knew Camp Half Blood would be there to return to, because this place, more than anywhere else, was home.

They were home.

[docheros]

the chapter of some well thought slow burn fic

listen i love them. if i had the capacity for long fics, this would be a slow burn. but i'm not good, so it's just one chapter. enjoy!

comments/rbs are appreciated :] taglist: @glass-trash-bab @the-pastel-kitsune @uhhbeans @dapperstein @inky-scientist

==============

At times like that, Stacy wished she'd spent a little more on that bigger sofa.

Squeezed in the corner of it, Isabelle in the middle and Chase on the other side, her gaze flickered between her daughter, the cartoon on TV, and the man's restless leg.

Has it been a bad idea? Did he want nothing more to do with his daughter?

No. That didn't seem like Chase — and neither did seem like Stacy, since when was she so anxious? —. Maybe he was nervous, more than she was at that moment. Like it or not, the divorce had been his fault, and now there he was, three years later, on the tiny sofa in her new apartment, watching SpongeBob SquarePants with his family.

“Family,” Stacy repeated internally. That word scared her, but also... excited her.

How confused she was.

She thought about getting up, offer Chase a juice, maybe make some snacks. As if they really were a normal family. As if that was a normal afternoon for them, watching TV with their daughter, eating something, putting her to sleep later…

But before she snapped out of her dream state and actually get up, Isabelle decided to break the silence.

— Do you have a girlfriend? A boyfriend? A goldfish?

Chase's eyes widened at the speed of the questions — or rather, statements — the girl did about his life. He scratched the back of his neck, unsure how to respond.

— Well, I... I have Jackie.

— Is she your friend? Girlfriend? Friend with benefits?

— He is a dude.

— Well — Isabelle huffed, impatient with her father's slow answers — boyfriend, then? Boy friends with benefits?

— I... give him a ride, sometimes? — She scowled, crossing her little arms.

— I'm not liking this story.

Stacy watched her out of the corner of her eye, apart of this father-daughter interrogation, but mortified with embarrassment. Isa hadn't seen her father since she was four, and the first thing she'd ask him was his relationship status?

This was very much Kiyoko's doing. Stacy wasn't that shameless when asking stuff.

(But she was curious to know if Chase was still single. Points to Isabelle, I guess.)

The man just smiled, impressed with his daughter's intelligence, and ruffled her dark hair.

— Little miss, where did you learn these things?

— Mom's diary — her mother finally stared at her, her mouth open — it said you had a new partner every week — she announced, turning her attention to the TV again.

Chase blushed slightly, smiling nervously.

— Huh?

— Did you read my old diary? — the woman asked, genuinely disturbed. Was it possible that she couldn't keep a secret, even if old, to herself in that house?

— She was down for you, like, baaad.

Brody's brows arched at that statement. Something inside him lit; hope to get back with Stacy? A twinge of ego from knowing she was crushing really hard on him? Maybe both. He looked up at his ex-wife, who was frowning at a giggly Isa.

— ISABELLE!

========

— It was a great day — he smiled, putting his hands in the pockets of his thick coat, standing outside the house — thanks for the invitation!

— It's nothing, and I'm sorry if she embarrassed you or something, she just... —she laughed low, playing with her hair — like that, sometimes.

— Stacy, you don't need to apologize. I'm her… — he lowered his voice and head — …dad.

She stared at him, and he stared back at her. His blue-gray eyes maintained the same brightness, despite the very apparent dark circles. The green part of his hair was starting to fade, but...

It didn't make him look bad.

— Oh, yeah, it's… — she found herself staring at his lips, and forced a cough — …habit, it's habit, you know? Sorry, nothing personal.

A heavy silence appeared between them. Snow was starting to fall, and just thinking about a storm and having to shelter her ex-husband in her new home sent a chill running up her spine.

— So, um...can you… go, now? I have to, uh... get ready for bed, you know.

— Oh, oh right, sorry. Em… Happy holidays!

— Thanks, you too!

She waited for him to get in the car and start it to finally lock the door. After a minute of silence, taking a deep breath and calming her heart, she turned and saw Isabelle standing behind her, staring at her with those slightly too big eyes — she'd gotten that from Chase.

— Isa? shouldn't you be in bed?

— Do you love him?

The question woke Stacy's heart again, against her will and logical mind.

— What?

— Do you love dad?

— No, I... Why the question?

— I saw your face — she smiled — Those were some loving gazes.

— Isa, you… — she raised her hand, waving it in the air and closing her eyes — you have school tomorrow, you were supposed to be in bed half an hour ago.

[therealnuclearplatypus]

valzhang soulmate au where the first words your soulmate ever says to you are tattooed on your wrist 👀

ooh that's a good one

alrighty then!

~❃~

Beautiful Stranger.

The sky was beginning to darken. As he made his way through the bustling New York streets, Frank prayed it wouldn't rain. He hadn't brought an umbrella; silly of him. Hazel had warned him it would rain.

Hazel. Frank smiled at the thought of her. What a fool he'd been. He hadn't met his soulmate yet—the words tattooed on his wrist were Watch Your Step. When he'd met Hazel, they'd bumped into each other and she'd cried, "Whoa, watch your step, sir!" with a laugh, and he'd thought, maybe this is it, maybe she's the one. Yeah, it wasn't exactly what was written on the inside of his wrist, but it had to count somehow, right?

Hazel's tattoo said Sorry, love and Frank himself had whispered, "Sorry, sorry, my bad!" Again, not exactly according to the tattoo, but maybe, maybe...

Because Frank didn't really believe in soulmates. The whole tattoo thing was stupid. Fate made mistakes, right? It had taken away his mother. Fate made many mistakes.

So what if Fate made a typo? Maybe he and Hazel were destined to be. Maybe they...

But no. They parted as friends, but Frank's heart was weighted down with that terrible knowledge—not her. He'd loved her, and she'd loved him. But it wasn't enough.

They were still the best of friends, but he'd felt that pang of loneliness. Being in a relationship felt safe. Sweet. Now he was on his own again.

It had started to rain, effectively startling him out of his thoughts. Frank cursed, wishing an umbrella would magically appear out of the sky along with the pouring rain, so that he may be sheltered.

But Fate had other plans.

As the multitudes of people rushed and ran, Frank found himself in a crowd of hurrying mania, and barely stopped himself slipping. As he turned a corner, in the hopes of escaping the crowds and maybe even find shelter, he stepped into a shallow puddle, and skidded across the narrow alley. He was about to fall onto his face when something tugged at the back of his coat. He stumbled upright.

He turned to thank whoever had halted his momentum, and came face-to-face with a small Latino boy holding an obnoxiously bright pink umbrella.

"Watch your step," he told him with a grin.

Frank's heart almost thudded to a stop, before starting again with renewed vigour. Watch your step.

Frank managed a smile, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment and some trepidation. "Thanks. I owe you."

The Latino's grin faltered. With his free hand, he tugged back his shirt sleeve. A tattoo on his wrist said, Thanks. I owe you.

Frank stared. He slowly revealed his own tattoo.

The other boy made eye contact and Frank almost flinched. He had beautiful, beautiful brown eyes, deep and lovely and knowing.

"Um, I'm," Frank mumbled, "I'm Frank."

The boy started to smile. It was just as beautiful as his eyes. "Leo."

Leo moved to cover Frank with his umbrella. Frank ducked to fit with him.

"So ... soulmates, huh?" Leo said with a nervous laugh.

"Seems so," Frank replied, butterflies awakening in his stomach.

"Cool." Leo put his free hand in one of Frank's. His hand dwarfed the little Latino's.

Frank's heart did an impressive saumersault in his chest.

"To be honest ... I was rather scared, of who my soulmate would be," Leo confessed. "I owe you sounded a bit ... ominous, in a way."

"Yeah," Frank agreed, "mine, too. I'm glad it isn't. I'm glad it's ... this." He blushed.

Leo laughed lightly. "Hah, yeah. Well, the fact remains that we are, in effect, strangers to each other. Care to remedy that?"

Frank blushed even harder. "Sure."

Leo grinned, and gripped his hand harder. "Great. Then let's get out of the rain."

"Sounds like a date," Frank smiled.

"Oh, but it is." Leo started to lead him out of the alley. "It is, my beautiful stranger."

~❃~

whoo! it's done. hope you like! :D

[helloalycia]

first impressions [four] // lena luthor

summary: you and Lena grow closer and she starts to let you into her life a little more.

warning/s: none i don't think?

author’s note: it’s been a while since i watched Supergirl and can't remember where in the series we're at in relation to this story, so I probably got alex's girlfriend wrong and said winn instead of brainy lol my bad, just go along with it!

one / two / three / masterlist / wattpad

When I stepped into the hall, only one door ahead, presumably hers, I tried to push away my own nerves and focus on being there for Lena. Knocking on her door, I chewed the inside of my cheek and hoped I could be of some help to her.

She opened up with a small, forced smile on her lips, green eyes flickering across my face. "Y/N, you made it."

I returned her smile with a genuine one. "Yeah... I didn't think you'd be in touch since I know you're busy, but I'm happy to be here."

"Sorry for not responding to your call," she said as she motioned for me to come inside. "It's been a long day of upping security and whatnot."

Stepping inside, I frowned at her words. It hadn't even dawned on me that she could be in danger with her brother's escape, since she'd testified against him and he may be looking for revenge. All I'd thought about was how she was reacting to the unwanted media attention.

I turned around as she closed the door, noticing that even in her loungewear, she held an element of class and superiority that nobody I'd met ever had.

"It's okay," I assured her. "I'm glad you did though. Respond, that is. I wasn't sure if..." She watched me curiously, hands closed together at her waist, making me nervous again. "We don't work together anymore, so I wasn't sure if it was appropriate. But I saw what was going on and I just wanted to see if you were okay."

She breathed out gently, a real smile appearing on her lips as she looked down. "Thank you. I appreciate it. I guess I... I was glad to receive your voicemail. And I just needed company to get my mind off things. You and I haven't really hung out before either, so I didn't think you would mind."

Her words made me feel lighter and I tried not to smile so brightly. "I don't mind," I confirmed.

Getting her mind of everything couldn't be too difficult. After all, I was an expert at distractions.

"I brought food if you're hungry," I continued, raising the carrier bag in the air. "It's fish and chips. Was feeling kinda homesick. I can totally pick something else up if you want though."

Her smile widened with amusement. "Fish and chips is fine with me. You didn't have to buy me food though."

I shrugged. "I was picking some up for myself anyway."

She nodded. "Very well. Thanks."

She led the way forward into her apartment, an open plan space with a huge kitchen on one side, a living area on the other and floor to ceiling windows showing off a beautiful view of National City. It was very modern but plain, not a single personal item on display. Maybe Lena wasn't a sentimentalist.

"We can eat over here," she said, stopping at the kitchen island. "D'you want a drink?"

I snapped out of my daze from how amazing her place was, looking to her as she got some plates and glasses out. There were already two bottles of red wine on the counter, one empty and the other on its way, with a used wine glass beside it.

She must have caught my staring as she felt the need to say, "It helps me relax. Especially with everything... yeah."

Feeling bad for making her feel uncomfortable in her own home, I shook my head and shot her an apologetic glance. "Don't worry about it. I don't blame you to be honest.

She paused, nodding but avoiding my eyes out of mild embarrassment, and continued to find some forks.

"Water is fine for me," I answered her previous question. "Thanks, Lena."

She gave me a small smile and got me just that. I took out the takeaway boxes, finding it kind of funny that we were eating a takeaway on actually crockery with actual cutlery, since I would've just eaten it from the box, but each to their own, I guess.

"You've got a lovely place by the way," I said once we both took a seat opposite one another, food and drinks served. "Though I didn't really expect anything less from someone like you."

She quirked a brow. "Someone like me?"

Well, there goes my big mouth again.

"Sorry, I didn't mean any offence," I said quickly, straightening up. "I just meant, well..."

Did it really need to be said? She was loaded. Filthy rich. A literal billionaire. Why wouldn't she have a penthouse?

Her lips were twitching into a small smile. "You just meant?"

I swallowed hard. "I meant..." When an actual entertained smile appeared on her face, I realised she wasn't offended like I'd thought. "You're going to make me say it, aren't you?"

To my delight, a quiet chuckle escaped her lips. "I think I got it."

My shoulders relaxed, able to deal with the teasing if it meant she didn't look so down for a moment.

The conversation was easy after that, with her growing more comfortable and less on edge. We didn't really talk about her brother or his escape or anything about the situation at hand. Instead, she wanted to know about how I was doing, how my time in National City was going, my work. And I asked about her work, about her life outside of it, what she was working on lately.

I asked about her decor choices in her home, since everything was very minimalistic and I personally couldn't deal with the lack of colour. She laughed at my stupid attempts to cheer her up and I pretended my heart didn't flutter slightly at the sound. Then she told me about how she isn't much of a cook so she was grateful I'd brought food over, and I told her how I would happily cook her a meal if I was given the chance since I wasn't too bad. Then she made jokes about my Super Mario hoodie and I teased her about how her outfit probably cost more than my whole wardrobe.

And we had fun, and honestly, it was one of my favourite memories with her. If you didn't count the unfortunate circumstances in which I was here, it was great. And I was sad when it came to an end, realising how late it was and that even my sister was heading back home now, having finished work.

I hated the way Lena's smile fell when I told her I should get going, and I hated that she tried to hide her disappointment in an attempt to assure me she'd be okay without me.

"I don't feel comfortable leaving you here alone," I admitted when we reached her front door.

She gave me a reassuring smile, resting her hand on my shoulder and squeezing it gently. "I have security all over. And a really great security system. I'll be okay, Y/N."

I knew all of that, and I knew that she was probably the safest she could be right now, especially with Supergirl patrolling the skies as usual. But it still made me feel worried, knowing she would be by herself tonight. Maybe I just wasn't one to be alone. She seemed used to it.

"You can call whenever you want," I said softly, giving her a slight nod. "Or text. Or whatever..."

Her green eyes were sparkling as they met mine, a glimmer of appreciation looking back at me. Then she took me by surprise when she pulled me in for a hug, wrapping her arms around my neck. I swallowed hard, returning the hug instantly, quite liking the feeling of her so close.

"Thank you for checking in on me," she said quietly, before pulling away and clearing her throat. "And for coming tonight."

This was it, the slight crossover from professionalism to friends. And I enjoyed it, even if she was slightly nervous to take that leap.

"I hope you know that I'm here for you," I said, just to make sure she was aware of how I felt. "That even though we don't work together anymore, I'm still here for you as a friend. If you want it, of course."

She licked her lips, chewing on her bottom one before nodding, meeting my gaze. A small smile appeared on her lips. "I know. Thank you."

I didn't know what else to say, partially distracted by her stare and the way it made my insides turn to jelly. Lena Luthor was certainly having an effect on me. One I wasn't sure I had the guts to entertain.

————————

Since that initial moment, Lena and I's friendship only got stronger. She let me in more, something she either didn't realise she was doing or was purposely doing because she was beginning to trust me more, and I was honoured to be one of the few she did.

She invited me over a lot more than I thought she would have, myself growing more and more comfortable in her flat, so much that it, and she, was less intimidating with each visit. I even tried to invite her over to mine and Y/S/N's flat a few times, when Y/S/N was at work. But one time, Y/S/N came back early and found it awkward having her boss over, so Lena and I figured it was easier to just go to hers. I found it hilarious, obviously, but I didn't want either of them to be uncomfortable so I did as they wanted.

I think Y/S/N found it strange that I was friends with her boss, since she still saw Lena as the big scary, rich boss woman who she worked for. But I just saw her as Lena, someone I happened to meet at the reception area of L-Corp and made a strange first impression on. 

My assumptions of Lena being a private person, used to spending her time with her own company, was confirmed the longer we spent time together. It was interesting to me, how she preferred her own company at most times, since I was the complete opposite and hated being alone. I put it down to the fact that I came from a big family, so was used to the company whereas she wasn't.

I noticed it more when I was hanging out with her at her place one day and I got some texts from the family group chat, my siblings sending some funny photos of each other as they went out on a hike together back home. It was very entertaining, since it was a series of photos of Y/B/N getting pushed into a mud puddle by Y/OS/N and attempting to pull her in but pulling our mum in instead.

"You have to see this, Lena," I said without thinking, jumping to sit beside her on the couch and showing her my phone. "My family went on a hiking trip. Family bonding or something. But... yeah."

The pictures explained themselves and she smiled with amusement, snickering as I swiped through the series of photos. The chat was bursting with notifications, everyone jumping in to complain about the photos because my dad had sent them without permission, and I tried hard to not laugh at them all.

"You miss them, huh?" she realised when I typed a response in the chat before throwing my phone to the side.

My smile didn't fade as I nodded. "Of course. But I love it here with Y/S/N, too."

"You must be close," she noticed. "Even got a family group chat. Can't say I've seen that before."

I chuckled. "Yeah, well, what can I say? We're a tight bunch. Mainly my siblings and I. It helps that we're close in age, too, I guess. They're annoying and we fight loads, don't get me wrong. But I love them."

She smiled slightly as I spoke, then her eyes drifted to the coffee table and I realised what I'd said, what I was talking about and who I was talking about it with. I felt like an idiot, a common occurrence now.

"I'm sorry, I hope it doesn't seem like I'm rubbing it in or anything," I said worriedly.

"Y/N, don't be silly," she said, immediately looking back to me with a shake of her head. "I love hearing you talk about your family. It's wonderful. They make you happy. You should never feel bad for talking about them."

I pursed my lips, still feeling bad. Family was a tough topic with her, I'd known that from the start.

"I appreciate you sharing this all with me," she added, resting her hand on mine hesitantly.

I placed mine atop hers, squeezing it gently and smiling when she relaxed her shoulders, nervous for whatever reason.

"Of course I would share this with you," I said like it was obvious. "And thank you. You know, I'm sure you'd fit in quite well with them. Maybe you could meet them one day. They're nothing like Y/S/N, so you'll love them."

She laughed at my joke and my smile widened, heart fluttering once more at the sound. Was it weird to say that, hinting that she could meet my family? I wasn't sure. But it made her happy and that was all that mattered.

I would have loved to be the person to bring her out of her shell a bit more. The person who could give her more friends and family who saw her how I did, but that wasn't my place. And that was okay. As long as I had her like this, I didn't mind.

————————

"You sure she doesn't mind if I come?" I asked Lena for the millionth time, gnawing on my lip nervously.

She rested a hand on my forearm, sending me a comforting smile. "Y/N, Kara is excited to see you again. You got along with her last time, right?"

"Of course–"

"There you go," she said with assurance, before knocking on the door. "You're okay, Y/N. I want you here."

I released my lip when she said that, eyes lingering on her profile until the door opened, revealing Kara. Lena had invited me to accompany her to a game night at Kara's place, where more of their friends would be. I didn't mind, obviously glad that Lena was sharing more of her life with me, but I was also nervous in case I didn't make a good first impression.

"Lena, hey!" Kara greeted, immediately pulling her in for a hug. "I'm so glad you could make it."

"It was long overdue, I'm sorry I missed the last few," Lena said apologetically, but relaxing into Kara's hug before pulling away and smiling at her.

"It's okay, you're here now," she said dismissively, before her bright blue eyes settled on mine. "And Y/N, it's so great of you to come along. Lena has been so excited to invite you for a while now."

I raised my eyebrows with surprise, an amused smile breaking out on my lips when I looked over to Lena. She was hiding her embarrassed smile as she turned her head slightly, clearly not expecting Kara to call her out like that. I, however, didn't mind in be slightest, not realising Lena had wanted me to come for so long.

"Well, I wasn't aware of that," I said, grinning now, tearing my gaze from Lena to look to Kara, "but I'm happy to be here. I was starting to think Lena was making the rest of her friends up."

Kara chuckled at my joke and stepped to the side to let us both in. Their other friends were already here, gathered around the coffee table in the living room of the open-plan flat. At the sound of Lena and I entering, their attention turned to us, smiles appearing on their faces.

"Look what the cat dragged in," Kara announced with a bubbly attitude, closing the door behind Lena and leading us further into her home.

"Lena!" they all chorused, getting up to greet the brunette.

She chuckled as they pulled her in for individual hugs. As they got acquainted, Kara rested a hand on my back, earning my attention.

"D'you want a drink, Y/N? I've got beer, wine, some cola," she asked kindly.

"A beer would be good," I answered with a smile. "Thanks, Kara."

"One beer coming up," she said with a wink before going to the kitchen.

"...and you must be Y/N," one of them said, a guy wearing a cardigan and tie with little toy soldiers patterned onto it. "It's so good to finally meet you. I'm Winn Schott."

"That's me. Nice to meet you, too, Winn," I returned his smile, recalling what Lena had told me about him. He was exactly what I expected.

"This is James Olsen," Winn continued to introduce the rest of the gang, motioning to the tall guy. "This is Alex Danvers, Kara's sister." He pointed to the short-haired auburn woman. "And this is Maggie, Alex's girlfriend." Finally, he motioned to the shorter Latina stood beside Alex.

"So lovely to finally meet you all," I said, looking between them. "And thanks for having me tonight. Don't think I've done a game night since I was back in England, so I'm excited!"

Alex chuckled as they all took a seat, her motioning for Lena and I to sit on the free couch. Kara joined, too, handing me my beer and a setting a glass of wine on the coffee table, presumably for Lena, before taking a seat on a beanbag on the floor.

"That's sweet," Alex said, flashing me a smile, before adding, "We're excited to have you. Lena's never brought around a date or girlfriend before."

I almost choked on my beer at her words, happening to take a sip when she said them. Lena cut in before I could react, cheeks flushed when I risked glancing in her direction.

"Y/N's not my– we're just friends," she corrected Alex with a stumble in her voice, taken aback.

The group exchanged glances, clearly having misinterpreted my presence.

"Oh, sorry, guys," Alex apologised to us both, realising her mistake. "We just thought– never mind. It's still great to have you over, Y/N!"

"We want to know everything about you," Winn added in an effort to change the subject and make us feel less embarrassed. Too late for that. "What brought you to National City?"

A heat was travelling up my neck at the mere thought of being Lena's girlfriend. I wasn't blind nor stupid, she was stunning inside and out, and yes, I may have fancied her slightly (a lot), but Lena was waaaaaay out of my league. The fact that they believed I could be her girlfriend... an honour, but very unbelievable.

"Well, I came to spend some time with my sister...," I began to answer Winn, accepting the subject change and trying to get more comfortable.

The evening was more fun than I could have imagined once Lena and I forgot all about the mishap of my presence. Her friends were lovely and the games were too much fun, a mixture of board games and interactive ones like charades. It reminded me of being back home with my family, helping to rid the slight homesickness I'd been feeling lately. Plus, it was nice to hang out with more people who weren't Y/S/N and her friends, which I think she was getting sick of.

Once the night came to an end, I was surprised to already be invited to the next one, same time next week. They must have really liked me, which reassured me because these were Lena's friends and I really wanted to make a good first impression. It seemed I had.

Lena was kind enough to give me a lift home since I'd come here with her, her driver stopping at mine before reaching her flat.

"I had fun tonight," I said between a yawn when we sat in the back of her jeep. "Sorry, excuse me. But yeah, I had fun. Thank you for inviting me, Lena. Your friends are truly great."

She was smiling already, her green eyes bright even in the dark of the backseat. "I'm glad... and er," she paused, glancing down at her hands, "sorry if they made it weird at the beginning. I don't really talk about my personal life to them as much. Mainly Kara. Only Kara, really. So, they didn't know otherwise."

I snickered, earning her attention. "You? Private? I never would have guessed."

She rolled her eyes playfully, before looking down again. I let my eyes wander over her face, appreciating the curtain of hair that fell into her eyes.

"It's okay," I finally spoke, a little tired and not really paying attention to what I was saying until it was too late. "Besides. Being mistaken for Lena Luthor's girlfriend is hardly an insult. Maybe even a step up."

She looked up at me and I blinked, my words replaying in my head as they sank in. Looking ahead, I internally cursed. Why did I just say that? Stupid big mouth.

"Really?" she asked softly, and I cleared my throat awkwardly.

Her eyes were piercing holes into the side of my face, but I couldn't bring it in myself to spare her a glance, so I tried to play it off casual.

"Obviously, Lena," I said with a shrug. "Anybody would agree."

She hummed in response and, after a moment, I was relieved to feel her look away. An inaudible breath escaped my lips as I leaned back into my seat, wondering why I could be stupid at the worst of times. It was hard to think straight when she was close to me, looking as beautiful as she did. And it especially didn't help that I was tired and none of my brain filters were working right now.

The rest of the drive was quiet between us. I hoped it was just because she was tired like me and not because I'd made things weird with what I'd said. The last thing I wanted was to make her uncomfortable.

When I reached the outside of my building, she offered to walk me to the entrance which gave me hope that I hadn't entirely screwed up. I gave her a small, tired smile when I turned to face her before going on.

"Thanks again for tonight," I said once more. "For someone who says she has no friends, you have some really great ones, Lena. And I'm glad I could meet them."

She mirrored my smile. "I'm glad you came, Y/N."

God, she was ethereal. Even now, tired like me, hair a slight mess from where she'd been leaning against the window, she looked radiant. And I wondered if I would ever think otherwise.

"I should go," I spoke gently, pointing over my shoulder to the door. "Goodnight, Lena."

Her smile faded into a firm press of her lips. She didn't wish me a goodnight back, and I lost my smile, too, wondering if I'd done something wrong.

"Can I give you something?" she asked slowly, before I could check if she was alright.

I let out a breath as I held in a laugh at her strangeness. "I guess... as long as it's not something super expensive. That seems to be your thing."

She would usually smile at something stupid I'd say like that, and when she didn't, her eyebrows furrowing slightly, I knew she was being serious. Pausing, as if reconsidering, she shook her head.

"What are you thinking?" I asked, turning serious, too. "What is it?"

Decided, she stepped back. "Never mind. Sorry."

Well, this certainly wasn't the Lena Luthor I knew. As she turned to leave, I grabbed her wrist gently, tugging her back to me. She was warmer than usual.

"Lena," I called, as she looked to face me but didn't meet my eyes.

What had her so conflicted?

"Did you mean it? What you said in the car?" she asked reluctantly.

I let go of her wrist, knowing instantly what she was talking about. Again, I tried to play it off with a smile.

"Well, duh," I answered as her curious eyes lifted to meet mine. "I'm not stupid, am I?"

She waited, eyes flickering between mine like I was a project in her lab she was trying to make out. I couldn't read her, not as well as I thought I could, so I didn't realise what was happening until I felt her lips against mine, capturing mine in a soft, slow kiss.

Taken by surprise, it took me a moment to react, but I soon melted into her touch, resting my hand on her cheek as I kissed her back. It wasn't long, but it left me wanting more when we pulled away, foreheads resting against one another. She was too close for me to make out any details, but I saw that her eyes were still closed like she was afraid to face her actions.

"Was that okay?" she murmured.

I swallowed hard, lips tingling. "Of course."

She didn't speak after that and I worried she was talking herself out of it already, realising I wasn't worth the effort. Why she'd even kissed me first was beyond me, but I loved every second of it and hoped it wasn't the first and last time I'd get to experience it.

"What are you thinking?" I asked cautiously, heart hammering in my chest and hand going numb where it still rested upon her cheek.

She breathed out slowly, breath fanning my face coolly. A pause, and then she answered, "I'm thinking about how I'm glad you don't work for me anymore. It would be very inappropriate to date my employee."

A smile crept on my lips when I realised what she was saying. Her eyes finally flickered opened and I was submerged in my favourite pools of green.

"Date?" I asked with a teasing voice, though I was over the moon. She liked me, too.

Her cheeks were flushed as she pulled away to get a better look. "If you want to."

My hand lowered from her cheek, resting on her neck. "Do you want to?"

The usually confident and classy Lena I'd come to know was momentarily flustered, unable to hold my gaze for more than a few seconds at a time, and it made me grin.

"Yes," she answered shyly. "Very much."

"Me, too."

She looked back to me, a contained smile on her face, and I couldn't help but lean in again, wanting to feel her lips against mine once more. She fell into it just as easily, myself pulling her closer by the waist and memorising every part of her that I could in this moment. I never wanted to forget it. Forget the moment that I discovered she actually liked me back. Just as much as I liked her.

"You know this means I'll have to come over to your flat, right?" she said once we broke apart, an amused smile on her lips. "Hang out with your sister?"

I laughed at the thought. "Of course it does. That'll be the least of Y/S/N's problems when she finds out I'm dating her boss."

Lena rolled her eyes, resisting the urge to smile before a quiet laugh flew from her lips, and I felt my heart flutter in my chest.

Making her laugh was definitely my favourite thing to do.

[reader-no-danna]

characters: genos, zombieman, metal bat, amai mask

synopsis: headcanons for the characters stated above in a relationship with an s-class!reader

fandom: one punch man

warnings: none!

a/n: my first writing post 🤩 i love the s-class heroes so much so i decided to write some headcanons for them with a reader who’s also s-class! i may make a part two with flashy flash, fubuki, etc. hope you like it!

genos

at first, genos is indifferent to your presence among the s-class. he’s already prioritized his training and spending as much time as possible with saitama

i don’t even think he’d be aware you’d joined until it was announced at another meeting

he’s veryy curious to know about your abilities and how you shot through the ranks so quickly. but i think he’d keep his distance for a while

assuming reader is around his age, genos would be low-key shy around them. he just can’t bring himself to approach you first. this poor boy-

so at first he sticks to keeping things ✨professional✨ when he hears about a successful mission you were on, you’d get the occasional “i heard you did well against the enemy. well done, y/n” and a little awkward nod of his head

but you’d soon catch on him. when you gave reports at the hero summons, he would ALWAYS pay attention. like watch-dog man could be going on about how city-q is burning to the ground and you’d be like “well everythings fine over here-” and his head would shoot up-

silent fuming if tatsumaki scolds you or anyone interrupts you

and he’d make trips to whatever city you were placed in charge of and ask if you needed any help. he knows you can take care of yourself, he’s just looking for an excuse to talk to you

one day you saw him with saitama and the gang and you started hanging around them and that was it-

you all would be going on a lot of outings together, trying to ignore all the people gaping at you

he definitely finds time to steal you away from the others. he could never grow tired of saitama but fubuki would probably have loads of questions for you so he may excuse himself from the group for a bit and take you with him

the two of you fight sooo well together. you’re often assigned to handle monsters as a team because of how well you work with each other

you’re always with him if his parts get damaged during a fight. scolding him and telling him to be more careful, he’s getting too reckless these days

and genos’ fans take a particular liking to you... if your relationship is public then please believe the fan pages are goin wild

genos doesn’t care about all that, but he’ll quickly jump your defense if people start spreading false rumors about you and your relationship

he loves you and you’ll know it everyday 😌

zombieman

yet another stern man

he is also quite curious as to how you managed to make s-class.

because you either got in right away after the entrance exam, like genos, or you somehow managed to surpass amai mask. either way, he already has some degree of respect for you.

he seems like a bit of a loner, so i imagine the two of you would have to be assigned to a task or mission of some sort together to start communicating.

one thing i like feel he’d admire in an s/o is their strength, so he would be looking respectfully if you two were fighting together.

very observant. he’s looking for your fighting style, what attacks you normally use, and how he can help with his abilities.

he cannot stand heroes who’re only in the profession for the publicity. amai mask already annoys him- so that being said he’s very appreciative to see you actually saving people and being compassionate and not just smiling for the camera while leveling a boulder or sum-

in fact, he probably started to develop some sort of feelings after watching you save someone. maybe it was a child you had helped reunite with their parents after their town was wrecked.

you bring the kid over to their parents, and when you turn over to zombieman he was smiling for a split second before reverting back to that slight frown.

it can be slightly unnerving watching him fight, with his regenerative abilities and all that. you know he’ll recover from any injury but it still concerns you when he gets hurt.

he always reassures you, it’s not a big deal, he’s more than used to it by now. the last thing he wants is to scare you, so catch him actually looking out for his safety and trying to limit the damage done to him for you.

if you get hurt somehow, he’s by your side in an instant. your safety is top priority

he’ll blame himself for your injury, you gotta reassure him for him to feel better, and even that would take a lot of convincing

he’s glad to have you in the s-class, it was getting a little insufferable over there-

badd/ metal bat

remember when he had no idea who madame shibabawa was?? yeah this man does not pay attention during hero meetings 😭 he also was not aware you had joined s-class even though he definitely should’ve been told at that point.

another meeting was called and he’s sitting down in his usual spot, he turns around to see you there like ”😀”

he watches as you calmly give a report on recent sightings of monsters and other matters, like where?? did you come from???

he’s got a pretty boisterous attitude, and he’s very assertive and loud when you first meet him. i feel as though his rashness would be even worse if he thought he had feelings for someone

easily flustered, and it’s obvious too. you offer to come with him for a threat-level demon mission and he’s going on about how he doesn’t need the help of a “newbie” and how he can handle himself just fine. of course you have faith in him, he’s VERY strong but it’s fun to mess with him, and he’ll know when you’re doing it

eventually you decide to tag along with him on an assignment, and surprise, surprise, you hear no complaints from him

you two are a force of NATURE in a fight. his stamina and strength is boundless, and you’re also very impressive with your abilities.

you know those scenes in the manga where he’s in the middle of a fight, his shirt torn, hair all ruffled and in his face, and he’s got bloodstains on him? yeah you’re getting a full view of that on the regular 🥵

fights always end with you two walking away together, he’s swinging his bat and talking about the thrill and how much he enjoyed a good fight. he’ll also be slightly embarrassed to add “you weren’t so bad yourself, you know” and his face will be red but not from the exhaustion-

his sister zenko will become a big fan of you now that you’re s-class! he may even ask if you can give her your autograph and talk to her. he’d be so embarrassed but trying to hide it-

doesn’t know what to do with his hands so he just stuffs them in his pocket. also he avoids eye contact with you too. it’s too cute

“y/n, look, i don’t mean to bother ya, but my lil sis, she’s a huge fan and she'd really like to meet you so if you had the time that would be great. thanks.”

pleasee be nice to this mans sister 😤 i headcanon that he wouldn’t date anyone if zenko didn’t like them

after you meet zenko, congratulations- you have unlocked his soft side 🥰 you’ll find he's a real gentleman

if you’re talking during an s-class meeting and someone interrupts you- this man will NOT care who-

“oi! didn’t you hear y/n speaking just now? shut up or i’ll thrash you!”

in conclusion: badd >>> and his heart is yours 🥰

amai mask

this little prick right here

he wouldn’t be as upset if you went straight to s-class after the hero entrance exam like genos did. but if you actually climbed through the ranks?? and surpassed him??

he would’ve had to be a-class rank t-t-two for a bit 🤢🤮 like hurry up and move to s-class already, it’s killing him

despite being upset about it, he’s also quite impressed. the reason he refuses to move to s-class despite being more than capable is because he wouldn’t allow anyone he deemed unworthy to pass. you had to be very strong, and he begrudgingly had some sort of respect for you because of it

he also respects just people. a hero has to be beautiful, in both appearance and personality. so if you’re a good person then he’ll actually get along with you

make no mistake, he cares about his public image. so when he sees you, a young and stunning hero who made their debut in the highly esteemed s-class? he’d definitely see that as an opportunity grow his fan base

purposely greeting and talking to you frequently in public. and then acting surprised and bashful when being questioned about it by the media

it wouldn’t be long before the tabloids started rolling out with your names on the headlines, with people talking up your relationship

whether or not you’d be upset with it is up to you

if you don’t mind the gossip, amai mask would be muchh bolder with you in public. giving you those wry smiles that would make any other fan melt and openly flirting with you. the two of you may even be invited as guests on one of those talk shows he’s seen on

if the publicity is too much for you, he’d actually shut down the rumors immediately. “y/n is a wonderful addition to the s-class, and i’m looking forward to watching them grow. but their just an acquaintance… nothing more.”

why do i actually want to write a fic about amai mask and reader playing up their relationship in public now

buttt that’s actually not true because he’s starting to catch FEELINGS

he doesn’t like most of the s-class but you’re the exception

he’s a busy man but expect him checking up with you as much as possible to make sure you’re doing alright

after a particular stressful mission, he’ll book a reservation for you two at the best restaurant in the city! perks of being a star...

he’ll tell you all about his upcoming projects, but he’ll also listen very attentively as you talk about the s-class! he may even make fun of some of them just to get you to laugh

very attentive boyfriend and much nicer to you than he is to anyone else, s-class or not!

[yandere-wishes]

⭐Yandere Joestars⭐

(Parts 1-7 + Bonus Charcter: Joseph and Johnny’s characterizations are based off @dear-yandere​ ‘s interperations) I tried to write this mostly in the Joestars' POV. Their respective darlings resemble lifelike dolls rather than human beings to further illustrate how out of touch with reality the Jojos have become.

Warnings: Gore, kidnapping, dehumanization.

Edited: By the amazing Peri!! (@tealyjade-libran )

⭐Jonathan Joestar is possessive. ⭐

It's only when you lose something, that you start to cherish it...

It's an old saying, one that Jonathan remembers from an antique storybook his mother use to read him. It didn't mean anything back then, when he was still an infant too young and new, to fully comprehend what "owning" and "losing" was. But as the years ticked by faster than any clock could keep track of, things started to change. What had once been a passing quote in a chivalrous story about knights and dragons, soon turned into the epitome of Jonathan Joestar's life. 

Soon love wasn't about saving a princess or impressing the neighborhood girls with his boxing skills. No, all too soon love became about own and guarding. 

There may have been a time -long before "Jojo" and Dio met- when Jonathan was just like any other gentleman. Tender and sweet, flirtish at gatherings and charming in ladies' companies...but that was a Jonathan from a could-be-past that had been demolished the minute Dio Brando stepped foot onto the Joestar estate. From then on things depleted all so quickly. Everything Jonathan had come to unconsciously cherished had been so easily stripped from him by his beloved new "brother". 

Everything he loved had been killed, destroyed, or broken in some inhuman way. His friends had abandoned him, his lover had distorted him, his father didn't even notice him...

"It's only when you lose something, that you start to cherish it". The second time he hears that phrase, it freezes him to the pavement, his body star-struck like he just received a message from the heavens. Although it's rather peculiar, why "heaven" would convey a message to him in such an unholy place. 

With Dio having practically kicked Jonathan out of the mansion and countryside. Jojo had no other place to go but the back allies of London. Sure he still tried to be home for supper and bedtime and any other time his father may get an inkling of his absence. But when there was no need to 'appear' Jonathan took to the London streets away from Dio and his lackeys. 

In fate's bizarre game, it's in a backstreet that reeks of days old licker and rotting flesh of paupers that no one has bothered to bury. That Jojo hears that life-defining idiom once more. His dulling sapphire blue eyes follow the mist of those melodious words. Staring until they're practically itching to cut through his sockets and run after those little words. But they stop right before they can leave their eyelets, they stop and stare at the figure that strolls out of the shadows, in such a way, that would make Jojo's father slap him across the face for being "barbarous".  

It's luck or fate or maybe even destiny that leads the heir of the Joestar legacy to meet his darling in the slums of England. 

"How my heart resonates when I lay my weary eyes on your enchanting face..."

There's an odd sweetness about the naivety that surrounds his little friend. A sort of innocence that comes with not knowing about the hell that he's gone through. It's charming in a moderate way, his darling can't come to despise him if they haven't got a clue who he is. Keeping both his worlds as far apart as possible is really the only option left. Dio and his friends can't hurt his new friend? Lover? Companion? In actuality, Jonathan really doesn't know what you are to him. At first, you're merely a distraction from his crumbling, lonely shell of an existence. A sort of invisible pillar holding up London's bridge before it collapses into the  River Thames. Sure he views you as another person, unlike the other noblemen Jonathan has no desire to treat you as anything less than a respectable young lady despite your social statutes. 

 Dio can have the noblemen and ladies, he can have all of George's affection and favor, Heck Dio can have the whole goddamn world for all Jonathan cares. So long as he has his darling, his sunflower, his only means for living, then he will be content. 

Jojo lost everything he once loved, but he swears it to every star in the night sky that'll preserve his darling from the wickedness that runs this cruel world. He'll cherish her while she's still in his arms...

He'll protect her, just like the knights did in the old bedtime stories his mother would tell him. 

"...I swear on my honor as a Joestar that I shall never lose you to the likes of anyone, I'll be a true gentleman, a true knight and I'll protect you from any who wishes cause you harm."

⭐Joseph Joestar is Protective and all so patronizing.⭐

Why must Love hurt so much?

It's solitude, pure utter solitude that attracts Joseph to his darling. Oh sure, he must have known them from an earlier time in his life, back when the words Hammon and Ripple just sounded like fancy dessert names. Back when he was still a naive kid wishing on every goddamn star that he could just meet one of his parents for a fraction of a second. Back when life was easy when everything made sense. That's when he first met his darling. Although all so many years ago he probably just thought of them as the little sister he never got a chance of having. 

There's a numbness growing inside him now that his life has slipped off its axes, hurling into unknown darkness that plagues him in the form of Pillarmen and red gems. 

Everywhere he looks there's a reminder that nothing's going back to the way it used to be. No waking up to Granny Erina's voice calling him down for breakfast, no running around chasing Old Man Speedwagon. Everything is gone, replaced by Lisa Lisa's brutal training and Ceaser's endless taunting. 

Day by day nothing changes, but once he looks back every little thing is different. Ruptured and mangled into something unrecognizable. 

But then there's his darling. Someone -or rather something- that's still the same. Just like before. Her smile is still the same as ever, bright and cheery as she runs up to him wrapping her arms around his abdomen muttering about how much she missed her "Dear Big Brother".

(Y/N) is a comfort, a familiarity in a strange new world. She's something so frail and vulnerable, not to mention naive. Thrusted into a world where horror writers don't dare venture into. It's so likely that she'd be captured by one of Kar's zombie vampire things or -even worse- charmed by Caesar’s silver tongue. 

It's thoughts like these that haunt Joseph at night, keep him up and wandering into her room just to gaze at her sleeping form. He's lucid enough to know how it might look. Like he's the bad guy trying to take advantage of a defenseless little girl. But he can justify his actions, he's her big brother, he has to watch over especially when she's at her most vulnerable. If Ceaser ever tried anything or some vampire freak snatched her away in the dead of night, Joseph would never forgive himself!

But what does he get for all his efforts? What does he get for all his sleepless nights and hours upon hours of worrying? Just a small smile and a fleeting kiss on the cheek. No sincere, "Thank you big brother," or, "You're my hero Joseph!" Nothing, nothing worthwhile anyway. 

Now it's a competition, a battle to the death if it has to be -funny how he takes this more seriously than his match against Wamuu.- He's competitive by nature and he's willing to do anything to earn his darling's affection once more. He doesn't care who he has to beat within an inch of their life so long as he can have his darling back in his arms.

There is an aftermath to all of these, once all the fighting has ended and the battle's won. Once Joseph has finally claimed his prize. There's a certain way his darling has to act. She’s got to smile and play the role of the dotting little sister once more. Just so Joseph can justify his actions...

"And your next line is, 'I love you more than anything else big brother Joseph!'...at least I wish it was." 

⭐Jotaro Kujo is cold and sadistic.⭐

Never learned how to love...

A lover by Jotaro's book is nothing more than a walking, talking doll. Someone who cooks meals, irons clothes, and kisses him on the cheek before he leaves for the day. Sure they have other uses, in flares of passionate moments, they're something to hold onto, another pair of limbs to get tangled in. Something hot and solid, someone to push down, to weigh his force on. 

That's it, that's all there is to it...

A lover and a convenient toy are one of the same. 

He knows it's wrong to think about someone that way. To deprive a living thing of all their thoughts and feelings just so it's suitable for him. But at the end of the day who wants to hear idle chatter and gossip or go outside for walks in crowded areas. All too social, it's all so troublesome. All Jotaro wants is a closed-off life, away from the scums of the earth...away from people in general. 

It's such an inconvenience to seek out a lover, to hassle through dates and meetups in hopes of finding someone that clicks. Jojo would even go so far as to call it wishful thinking. So it has to be a pure accident that he even meets his darling. They're just someone who gets tangled in with the crusaders. A perfect living perception of 'wrong place, wrong time'. Someone who's life gets blown to bits and shambles just because fate decided to play a cruel joke on them. 

And that's what piqued Jotaro's interest. The desperate, depleted look of pain cemented over their face. The sparse dying gleam of determination that blazes within their eyes. Oh, what Jotaro wouldn't do to snuff that little ray of hope. To watch as what little purpose they have is ripped from their arms. What he wouldn't do to see them in pain...

Pain is submission, that's really all Jojo wants. A darling submits, not out of their own free will, but because every little thing they've ever loved has been slaughtered, all that they cherished has been stolen from them. 

But it's not enough 

It's never enough

Although Jotaro adores the looks of anguish that decorates his lover's face. There's something more satisfying about maltreating them. About leaving marks all over, about leaving bruises that never lose their violet glow. He's claiming his darling, physically and mentally. Not a single day goes that Jotaro doesn't remind his lover who they belong to. From verbal taunts that plague his darling's mind day and night, to punches that break bones leaving them paralyzed on the floor begging for help, to cuts that are just a little too deep to ever heal properly. 

Even when his darling is behaving, even when the poor little thing does everything her lover tells her to do, there's still going to be some sort of violence directed at her. Some backhanded remark about how useless they are just because they couldn't follow his mother's recipe. Some sort of blow just for greeting him 'too late'. Trivial things morph into punishments, just for Jotaro's sick amusement.

At his core, Jotaro is an unresponsive man, one with no regard for how others feel. He's distant, it's a trait he can't change. He likes how he does things, how there's no room for slip-ups when it's only him. Even his darling isn't someone he'd consider opening up to. Their opinion of him doesn't matter and their feelings are irrelevant. Most days he's gone until the last possible moment, leaving his darling an endless amount of time to mull over every word and scar. 

But here's the catch.

As the clock ticks by, as the nights and days begin to merge into an endless existence, as all hope burns in the pits of hell, darling's mind is also going to stray. Ever so slowly losing its perception of reality. 

'Maybe' spiders begin to spin webs of doubt through darling's empty cranium. The isolation begins to bite at her skin like the razor-sharp fangs of frostbite. They start to crave Jotaro's harsh touches, they start to miss the venom-like words. Every insult and slap to the face is welcomed, all the misplaced anger and death threats start to feel like sweet kisses and flowery touches. 

Poor darling no longer sees big scary Jotaro as a monster. They've lost the ability to see him for what he truly is.

And what happens when Jotaro does finally come home? Oh, how little (y/n) will ravish in the gut kicks and loathsome words. How she'll take every beating with a sweet sugar-coated smile.

Cause this is her life now. A meaningless existence that revolves around Jotaro and his bleak personality. A life that's only worth living when Jotaro is around.

Is it even a life?

"Yare yare daze you're such a hassle, be glad I keep you around...”

⭐Josuke is obsessive with delusional tendencies.⭐

Maybe I'm the one you'll fall in love with next...

Just like his "father" Joseph, Josuke is stuck in a perpetual state between diaphanous and phantasm.

There's something all too wrong with Morioh nowadays. The narrow streets and verbose buildings have started to feel like a transparent cage. The town has always been small, barely reaching a population of 3,000 despite all the new families that keep moving in.

Nevertheless, everything has dulled, faded, and withered into a monochrome collage. The layers of repetitiveness had finally begun to pick at Joskue's nerves...

And yet somehow, by some diabolical twist of fate. In the mists of the oceans of familiarity, Josuke’s eyes grab onto some shimmering pearl lounged into between the crowd of familiar faces. 

Sure he's seen this girl before, but he's never actually seen her. Never stopped to look at the odd way their eyes twinkle like newborn stars or how their skin shimmers with the glow of a thousand suns. 

One second is all it took, a fleeting compliment as you passed by Jojo in the peppermint flavored afternoon. Your hair flowing like a tapestry of the galaxy as you disappeared in the crowd of dead pulsars. Not a care in the world, not for him, not for anyone.  

Destiny was definitely up to its old cruel tricks again. 

He's not stalking. Josuke will swear on his grandfather's grave that he'd never "stalk" a harmless little girl, like some distorted maniac. He just happens to bump into you at the beauty parlor when he's picking up a new brand of hairspray. And it's totally an accident when he meets you out in the abandoned fields! Honest! It's not his fault fate wants the two of you to keep meeting, it's not his fault that you guys are meant to be!

It's not technically a friendship that you two start to build up, it's far from one. Friends don't dream about sugar-filled kisses behind school walls. Or about ice cream that tastes like scandalous touches and candy induced moans. No, Joskue isn't your friend, he NEVER wanted to be your friend. He knows that! He knows what he wants...but with each passing day, he's beginning to doubt that you know that. 

He'd never realized he's been so sensitive on you. So entranced by your out of tune voice that muttered rather than spoke. He's seldom been so eager to throw a punch and crack his knuckles on someone's skull, just for saying you looked "lovely today". 

Whenever his eyes don't land on you, a rage-filled volcano bubbles in the pit of his gut, uncontrollable anger that festers inside of him, like lava waiting to spill out and burn anyone that wanders too close. His palms itch with the need to hold you, to feel your soft skin rubbing against his. 

The jealousy is always there, pricking at his skin like rose thrones. Until they inevitably cut through his flesh and make him lose his composure. He's ready to kick and punch and hurt and kill anyone that comes too close to you, anyone that saunters off their orbit and makes a beeline for you, disturbing the balance of solitude that Josuke so eagerly sets you into.

Sometimes in the dead of night, when the world has finally dozed off, Joskue's mind begins to wonder. He thinks the way he feels about you is the same way an addict feels about his drugs. Maybe to him, you're even more addicting than heroin and ecstasy...and yet he can't quit you, he just doesn't want to quit you. Nothing in this world could compare to your sweet voice that tickles his ear when you lean in, to whisper a secret, or the may your full lips move when you throw another honey-filled insult at him. 

He prefers when you're alone when he's the only one you talk to. 

Sure there are exceptions like everything in life, although in the end  

there's a sort of backhanded irony.

It's those exceptions that are going to hurt him in the. 

Josuke trusts his friends, he knows that Okuyasu and Koichi would never do anything to hurt him...

But you're not on that list and to be fair you're surely the only one who can truly hurt him.

You fall for a friend of his. Not him, not the boy that's been driving himself insane just to earn a smile from you, not the boy that let you get away with insulting his hair and poking insults at his look, not him never him, it just can't be him.

"You're like an older brother to me"...Did you wash your mouth with acid before you spat those words at him? Did you intend to lace your words with knives and blades and rubbing alcohol before you stabbed him? It's figurative, sure. But it might as well be literal. No pain, no cut, no punch from any stand would ever hurt so much! You really don't know what you do to him, do you?

"I'm happy for you," it's a lie, blank and simple. Automatic words that he's practiced in the mirror a thousand and one times. He'd rather watch you suffocate on your own blood than in the arms of another man. He'd rather break every bone in your body than watch you kiss one of his friends. 

How on earth had he ever come to love you? Someone as cruel and cold. Were you even human? You resembled some ice stand more than a flesh and blood person. HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO HIM.

He really hadn't meant for it to become an addiction, he hadn't meant to get all so used to the crunch of bones beneath his foot, and the bloodied lips quivering, shuttering out apologizes for having the gall to utter your name in his presence. But there's only so much a teenage boy can take, only so much torture that he can bury inside with a moonlight smile. 

Addictions really do funny things to semi-sane people, huh?

It's a split-second decision, done in the heat of an all so regular moment. It's just a simple half-hearted punch when you beat him at another videogame. Then another

And another

And another

Then a crack, another and another, and before either of you knew it you're on the floor screaming out in pure agony. 

Josuke vows he's not being cruel when he breaks your bones so delicately. He can justify every crack, every fracture. Although it's rather repetitive and in certain cases borderline petty. 

Five broken bones on your left leg just for "kissing" your new boyfriend. Your right leg is bent at an angle you're sure it's not meant to be. All because you hugged said new lover before going to class. 

Josuke's once liquidy blue eyes that held the softness of clouds have been dulled over by a sort of thick mania. His once soft touch is nothing but nails digging into already bruised tissue. His lips wobbling as stray tears flow past his eyes. Muttering apologies and stuttering curses at both you and himself.

It's not really like his darling can leave after that incident. Josuke is known around town as the boy with a diamond heart. There's no way in hell anyone will believe what he did to you. It's just better, safer, to stick close to him, to swallow the indignities and paint a loving smile over your face when you gaze into his depraved eyes. 

It's better to pretend to love him, rather than have another limb broken...

"Come on (Y/N), it's just a little crack. If you promise to give me a tiny kiss I'll let Crazy Diamond fix you right up."

⭐Giorno Giovanna is sneaky and manipulative. ⭐

Sono pazzo di te. Sei la cosa più bella che mi sia mai capitata...

There's a sleekness to Giorno, a cunning that's hidden behind layers of charisma and charm mimicking that of his birth father's. It's so easy for him to fool his darling into believing that he's a charming prince from a storybook. He's the good guy trying all so damn hard to make his dream a reality. He's admirable, he's noble, he's Giorno Giovana, the golden boy.  

It's not like he ever intends to hurt his darling. He'd never dream of laying a hand on them, he's all too familiar with the wounds that come from endless beatings. The bruises and phantom pains, that get worse as the days slip by. He knows real pain, and unlike all so many others on both sides of his family, Giorno doesn't want his lover to experience an uncia of it. 

He'd never repeat what his stepfather and mother did to him. He's going to try and do everything he can to make sure that his darling is safe...

Because isn't that what's important? To make sure the one you love is safe. To make sure they don't get swept off their feet by some masquerading drunkard or taken advantage of by some fanciful sadist. 

Giorno will do anything to keep his darling safe, even if it means tampering with their mind a little. Nothing too serious, he'd never even considered changing anything about them. Although isolating them isn't completely off the table and a few verbal threats are fine from time to time. Just for precaution...

Giorno is a rather determined boy, he'll go to any lengths to isolate his lover. Scaring away friends by letting Gold Experience give them a small out of body experience. If they're persistent then he can't guarantee that that out-of-body experience will simply remain an experience much longer. It's not out of malice, but it's what must be done for the sake of his darling, the only other thing he cares about.

There's a shift, a difference between the young naive Giorno Giovanna, the golden boy with starry eyes, and the new boss of Passione, the Mafioso who holds the whole country in the palm of his hand. 

Oh sure, as a simple Soldato Giorno was dangerous in his own right. But Don Giorno? He's the sort of monster written about in the grimmest fairy tales. Wearing the appearance of a true king but underneath the luxury suits and priceless watches, he's just another greedy, fire-breathing dragon.

As the Don of Italy's most influential gang, Giorno's manipulation tactics have gotten rather ....hazardous. He doesn't have time to waste getting rid of every single person that poses a threat to his darling. If someone looks their way, he'll send some goons to take care of them. 

Although it's so much easier to keep his lover locked away, he even has the perfect excuse now. He's the head of the mafia, he has all so many enemies who jump at the opportunity to hurt him in some way. So he has to keep his defenseless little lover locked away in some mansion that's all so far away. 

He's also a bit more violent now. Giorno's more physical, ready to break a bone just for a wrong word or a cracked jaw from a punch for even asking to go outside. He blames it on the stress of running an organization...although it's more likely that all the power from passion has begun to rinse away Giorno's caring side. 

"Cuore mio, Resta con me per sempre"

⭐Jolyne Kujo is clingy and obsessive and delusional.⭐

I can't stay away from you...

Jolyne is a rather condescending yandere. Her rough ragged exterior does little to hide the clingy neediness that writhes inside her shattered heart.

She's soft, dependent, desperate at best. Wanting her darling to approve of every tiny trifling thing she does. Needing their words of praise and approving smiles to have the courage to live another day. 

At times it seems like the only thing keeping Jojo alive is the  "good girl!" and "I'm proud of you!" her darling throws her way. Chanting the words of praise with closed eyes and fluttering smiles of anxiety. 

It's difficult to make her sweetheart realize how virulent this relationship is, far too hard to call Jolyne a Yandere. The derogatory term applies to someone who ceases all control from their lover, who locks them in a basement, and throws away the key. It applies to murders and 

stalkers and lunatics that roam the streets in the dead of full moon nights. It applies to those who were thrown into Green Dolphin for a reason.

 Not to some girl whose life has been demolished over and over and over again. 

Not to the girl with a star birthmark that follows her darling around like a lost puppy in the freezing rain. 

But even Jolyn has her limits. She's been let down time and time again, abandoned and framed by those she thought she loved unconditionally. From friends to boyfriends to even her own father, everyone leaves, they take what they want, and then they leave. 

Flesh like strings, stitched into a web of antithesis and distraught moods, act as a  solid, interchangeable reminder of who really holds the power in this relationship. Of how Jolyne can go from needing her darling to controlling her darling in just a fraction of a heartbeat. She loves them, she swears she does...but they need to stay close to her, they need to only think about her. 

Her addiction gets worse as the days tick by. It's less romantic, less loving. Morphing into a dependency, a compulsion. Rotting thoughts of her darling suddenly leaving, plague her every waking moment. The once semi pleasant conversations between her lover and her friends, get cut off like a severed limb. 

Even Hermes and Foo Fighters aren't "good enough" to be around Jolyne’s lover. She's all so, scared they'll try to take them from her. Stealing the ONLY good thing in her life.

There's a certain degree of control that Jolyne's willing to give to her darling. A sort of freedom to make, revolting appalling choices, so long as they include her. A freedom to boss her around and make her submit. Her darling is free, so long as that freedom revolves around Jolyne.

"(Y/N)~ don't look at them! You should only focus on me! I'm supposed to be your world!"

⭐Johnny Joestar is sadistic and manipulative.⭐

Arrogance disguised as affection...

It's all degradation, all harsh words that sting worse than bullet wounds. Glares from dull wicked blue eyes that might as well kill, cause it's better than the alternative. Smirks that make being alive so damn distasteful. Kisses that engrave the lingering taste of rotting lead into your tongue.

Johnny isn't sweet, he doesn't smile at his little sweetheart. He doesn't pat their head and kiss their temples while uttering sweet nothings into their blushing ear. No, his lover doesn't deserve a honey-coated life. They don't deserve to have what was stolen from him by his so-called "loved ones". Instead, he uses them as a living dart board, for both his acid-laced words and bullet-like fingernails. 

There's no love when it comes to Jojo. He doesn't want to waste time on something so frivolous as a "significant other". But he does like having someone -or rather something- to play with, a form of entertainment that bends at his will. Not a pushover, not someone who's too proud either. But a living doll that can take a few verbal spats and survive an armada of fingernail bullets through the stomach. 

Oh, sure he wants to break them, having a toy that's so conflicted, that questions their own sanity is so much more fun. But it's the intervals that count. Johnny wants to be the one to break his darling. To engrave the helpless look of distress into his memory. He wants to preserve every scream, every tear. That's the whole purpose of even keeping a darling. 

Johnny rarely lets his darling out of his sight. It's so much easier to play with their mind if he's the only one they ever talk to. They'll become so easily dependent on him if he's their only companion. Although sometimes Gyro can get a little too touchy and friendly. And there will be occasions when Hot Pants start to pry into the darling and Jojo's personal life. But the incidents are few and far between. Not like Johnny minds, if anything these minor secondary "meetups" are useful to the paraplegic jockey. They refill his darling with the most precious thing..." Hope". Just so Johnny can beat it out of them all over again.  

There's a darkness that resides deep within Johnny. A toxicity that laces his actions. His life is miserable and he's damn well sure it'll always be that way.....

So why not take his lover down with him?

"Don't you love me darlin' ? Cause I certainly don't love ya."

⭐Jorge Joestar is delusional and obsessive.⭐

What if we lost our minds, together?

A love story better than his parents, that's all Jorge wants. Flower field dates, and quick lingering kisses before midnight. Something sweet, that doesn't have a macabre end. A romance without body-snatching vampires and zombies that shed their flesh. Something normal, gentle, lovable. 

Although with the family he's been born into and the kind of things that keep finding him. Jorge doubts he's ever going to get such a hopeful love life. He's all so desperate to carve a life for himself outside of his family's shadow, but in the end, it's simply eager wishing. 

He's not exactly sure what he's even looking for in a lover. Someone sweet but strong-willed, an average answer. Someone who bears a sort of resemblance to Lisa Lisa. Not physically but rather mentally, he's not a coward, he swears he's not, but he just wants someone who can protect him. A fair exchange in his eyes. His lover will guard him against the bullies and freaks of the island and in turn, he'll protect them from the grim ghouls that run amok through the world. Although when push comes to shove he isn't sure if he'll really be 'protecting' his lover or running away and hiding somewhere with them.

He just wants to fall in love and not go insane, a reasonable request, if he hadn't seen the worst that the world has to offer. It's just wishful thinking, sweet dreams for a boy designed to attract trouble. 

He doesn't want to have conversations with his dead lover's head. He doesn't want to wear their skin and waltz around town. He doesn't want any of that creepy, supernatural stuff that destroyed his parent's love. 

He just wants normal. But as the years slip by Jorge's grip on "normal" slowly begins to decay.

Normal is something, but what that something is has become a blur. Normal isn't vampires and zombies and ghost clowns that throw nooses around people's necks...Yet on the other hand maybe it is? 

He's so far gone that he can't even differentiate between methodical and irregular. His brain's capacity to understand the difference has gotten so altered and broken.

Once he finds his darling he does try to act like the ordinary people of the Canary Islands or England, depending on where he's residing at the time. He tries to follow the mode, just to impress his lover. It's a façade, a bloody masquerade that's bound to deteriorate once he and his lover have settled down.

Although a poetic, domestic life had always been Jorge's dream, he soon comes to learn that it just doesn't suit him. Jorge's paranoia starts to increase. It's comical at first, the way his eyes dart to closed doors, half expecting a killer to emerge. Although the same paranoid tendencies can become rather smothering at times. He's all so certain something is going to jump out of the shadows, some creature with sharp fangs and knife-like claws is going to rip his lover's body to rags. 

He's gotten rather umbrageous now that he's the one who's married and living in the Joestar estate. His tendency to run away from any form of conflict has morphed into a rogue-like sense, much similar to a rabid dog barking at anyone who gets too close to its territory. He keeps his darling locked away inside, triple-checking the locks to make sure no one or thing can get in. He avoids the probing disquieting neighbors who still speak ill of his widowed mother and murmurs about the "curses" bestowed on the Joestar bloodline. Sometimes even getting physical when the insults shift towards him and his new lover. 

Punches are thrown.

Insults exchanged.

And then the door and windows are locked once more.

Leaving both Jorge and his darling in the chilling company of the semi alive shadows.

It's safer in the basement. It has to be safer down there. After all his mother kept his father's severed head down there for decades before anyone found it. So it's only sensible that his lover will also be safe, tucked away in the darkness of a brick room some few meters under the earth. He's not acting like his mother -and deep down he prays that this isn't something his late father would ever even consider doing- It's a thin line of justification, but he can reason with himself so long as he knows it's not something his other family members have ever done. He does try to keep his darling comfortable down there. Buying them the most luxurious furniture and comfortable bedding. Constantly bringing them new forms of entertainment. 

Keeping them in this preserved state is what any reasonable person would do. Not just another insanity driven Joestar.

"It's for your own safety" he's repeated that phrase an umpteenth amount of times, although every time the sculpted words leave his tongue, Jorge becomes less sure of who he's really trying to convince. 

Jorge is all so sure that he's doing all of this for both his lover's safety and to erase whatever misfortune follows around the Joestars, like an airy plague. Even his enrolling for the great war is done with this mindset...

Even though in the end it's also this mindset that gets him killed. Leaving his darling a wide window to freedom. 

"Darling, what do you think when you look at me?"

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

[nashibirne]

London Calling - 2

So, guys...I know it took me a while but here it is. Part 2 of Bodyguard! August and his adventures in London. I hope there are still some people out there who want to read this. Enjoy and let me know what you think! Every single comment/reblog/like is very appreciated 💜

Pairing: August Walker x ofc (Lucretia "Lu" Johnson)

Words: ~ 3.2

Summary and A/N: This story plays with the thought of "what if…" What if August Walker had taken another road? What if he had turned into John Lark for completely different reasons? What if he had found love before becoming a bitter, disillusioned man?So the events of "London Calling" take place about ten years prior to MI:Fallout and August Walker hasn't joined the CIA yet, he's an FBI Agent and his new mission in London that lies ahead of him is going to be a challenging one. Maybe it's even going to change his life.

Find the previous chapter and my other fics here: Nashi's Masterlist.

Warnings: 18+! This story deals with the topic of a toxic/abusive relationship, gaslighting and problematic behavior of one of the protagonists in general. Please don't read if these topics trigger you or make you feel uncomfortable.

English is not my mother tongue but the lovely @sillyrabbit81 was so kind to be my very helpful and patient Beta! Thank you so, so much, bunny 🐇💜 (Edited by me, so there might still be mistakes and they're all mine)

Credits/Disclaimer: I don't own August Walker or anything related to MI:Fallout. Pics for the moodboard from pinterest, face claims: Lu - Hannah van der Westhuysen, Adam - Freddie Thorpe. FaceApp helped me with making August look a little younger.

Ready? Let's go!

*********

"John Lark," Adam said to Lu, who was sitting opposite of him at the dining table, having a coffee and some fruits for breakfast. He grinned and rolled his eyes. "What a boring name. Let's hope he has a boring personality as well and likes staying in the background just like poor old Eddie."

Lu shook her head with a sad smile. "I still can't believe he's dead. I mean, one moment he's alive and kicking and then he misses a red light and is six feet under."

"He should have been careful, baby. He was an idiot anyway. Please don't tell me you liked the old grinch." Adam ran a hand through his light brown hair and gave her a surprised glance.

"I did like him and he wasn't old, not even 50. He was a nice guy, always friendly and helpful." She leaned back in her chair with a sigh and looked out of the large windows that gave a fantastic view on the Thames and the city of London.

"Did you fuck him?"

Lu froze at the coldness in his voice, that sent icy shivers down her spine.

"Of course not, I…I would never...he wouldn't have..." She stared at the man she was going to marry in just a few months, eyes wide, lump in her throat, feeling offended and unsettled by his accusation.

Adam burst out laughing. "You should see your face, Lu," he chuckled with a big grin on his attractive face. "It's hilarious, you're so easy to lead on, darling. It's really cute how naive you can be. That's exactly the reason why I have to look after you by the way. People take advantage of you but no one fucks around with Adam Mayfield." He gave her a wink but she knew he wasn't just teasing her, he meant it. Lu forced a grin, trying to relax and regain her composure by taking a deep breath. Getting serious he reached over the table and took her hand, pressing a tender kiss on her knuckles. "I was joking of course, I know you are loyal, baby. You're not a cheating whore. If you were I wouldn't marry you and if you were I would know. Nothing remains a secret to me. Nothing, Lu. Never forget that. No secrets."

She gave him a sweet smile and squeezed his hand, her heart beating like crazy. "No secrets," she said because she knew that's what he wanted to hear.

Adam gave her an approving nod, obviously content with her answer.

"So, until Lark arrives the day after tomorrow, Big Ben is gonna take care of you."

"What about you, won't you need him?"

Lu was genuinely surprised. Since Eddie's accident, Andy, the third member of their security staff, had taken over his duties. Big Ben was Adam's bodyguard, more than that actually, over the years he had become his right hand, his assistant, his eyes, his ears, his shadow. The middle aged man, with the thin, sparse light blonde hair and the hooked nose that dominated his puffy face with the pasty complexion, was a nice guy on first sight, always very polite and friendly, always up for a joke, but he had something in his watery eyes that scared Lu. Maybe it was because he was so loyally devoted to Adam. Lu had never heard him question any order, he did whatever he was told to and Lu was absolutely convinced he would turn against her in the blink of an eye, if Adam asked him to. She feared him and she didn't trust him and she was quite sure the feeling was mutual.

"I can do without him for two days, right Ben?" He asked the man who was entering the room right then.

"Sir?"

"You'll look after Miss Johnson today and tomorrow and Andy will keep an eye on me."

"Of course," Big Ben nodded with a smile. The nickname was pretty ridiculous, because he was anything but big. He was neither tall nor broad. He was hardly Lu's height and a little overweight but he was tough and a skilled martial arts fighter. He had been pretty successful in his youth, winning various tournaments and he was still very strong and flexible. Lu had watched him doing some Jiu Jiutsu with Adam a few times and it had been impressive to see the stocky guy so agile and light-footed.

"I won't be much of a nuisance, Ben," Lu said, "I will be busy preparing the vernissage for the rest of the week, so we'll be at the gallery most of the time."

"That's fine, Miss Johnson. I like the gallery. I don't know much about art but you have some beautiful paintings there."

***

An hour later Big Ben was looking at one of these paintings and Lu was watching him closely. Something was off, not only today, it had been for a few days. It started with Adam letting Andy stay with her at the gallery all day. That was very unusual. Eddie had always run errands while she had been working or he had washed the car or whatever. She didn't need him around, the gallery was a safe place, nothing bad had ever been happening there. She had asked Andy a few times why it was necessary that he stayed but he'd always said he didn't know and was just following Mr. Mayfield's orders. And now there was Ben, who was obviously trying to pump some kind of information out of her, asking strange questions.

He was subtle, she had to admit that, but just like anyone, including Adam, he underestimated her. He and the rest of the world considered her to be just a blonde bimbo, Adam's arm candy, a classic gold digger and nothing more. She could hardly blame people for thinking that way and actually she even liked flying under the radar. It gave her a certain kind of freedom because nobody was really paying attention to what she did. Adam was the one in the limelight and since she'd never dare to steal his thunder even the yellow press found her too boring to write about her. So she was able to focus on her work and try to make herself a name as a galerist, not as Adam Mayfield's trophy girlfriend.

She knew most people thought she wasn't very clever, but as hard as her youth had been it had given her two very useful skills, street-smartness and the ability to judge character. She had more knowledge of human nature than most women her age and she for sure could tell when someone was trying to hide something from her.

"Eddie liked that painting too," she said with a smile. It was a lie, Eddie had never been taking interest in any of the artwork she presented in her gallery but she wanted to get Ben to talk.

"Really?" A sad look crossed Benjamin's face. He and Eddie had been pretty close and Lu imagined he was mourning his old friend badly.

She gave him a nod and a friendly smile. "You miss him, don't you?"

"Of course, Miss Johnson."

"Lu," she corrected him for the millionth time although she knew he'd continue calling her by her last name. She had no idea why he insisted on this formal way of addressing her, all the other staff members called her by her first name, but since he did the same with Adam she supposed it was just his way of showing respect and keeping a professional distance. "I miss him too. I can't believe he was so irresponsible. He was always such a careful driver, he never even got a ticket for wrong parking."

Big Ben wrinkled his nose. "I'm sure he wasn't acting irresponsibly. It was an accident."

"Well, Adam said he missed a red light because he was distracted by answering his phone. That's pretty irresponsible, if you ask me."

She saw his jaw working and his hands were balled into fists. Her accusations were making him angry and she assumed that meant they were wrong.

"We don't really know what happened. Just what the police file says," he replied with a shrug.

"And you assume that it's not telling the truth?"

"I don't assume anything, Miss Johnson. I believe in the things Mr Mayfield tells me. And so do you, I guess."

"Of course I do," Lu said quickly, dropping the topic, fully aware of the threat that his words involved. She had heard enough anyway.

****

August took a deep breath before he dropped his suitcase on the floor and took a look around. The room -his room- was nice. Big and bright, with large windows and a big bed that appeared to be very comfy. The en suite bathroom was luxurious and gave off spa vibes while the modern paintings and photographs on the walls made the room look like a very stylish and exclusive hotel suite. He liked that, but he had to remind himself that this wasn't a city trip for a weekend, this was his job and his new life.

He had spent the last days slipping on his new personality, becoming John Lark, embracing his alter ego. He grinned when saw his reflection in the window. That mustache and the three day stubble he wore now was an unusual sight but he had to admit he liked the new look, it suited him. August unpacked his suitcase, placing his clothes in the closet and the few personal items John Lark owned in and on the nightstand. A few books, a moleskin and a pen, a jump rope and a pull-up bar for staying in shape and his personal mobile. He had been handed out an official cell phone by that guy called Ben right at the airport where he had picked him up. He put on the watch Lark's mother had given him after high school graduation, his initials engraved on the back. 6:45. Fifteen minutes till dinner. He had been asked to eat with them to meet Mayfield and his Barbie. Miss Johnson. Just be professional, he scolded himself, she's your target.

Don't fuck this up. Kyle's words resonated in his head. This had to be his goddamn creed from now on if he wanted to join Erica Sloane's team at the CIA, and fuck he did. She was infamous for being the toughest and strictest woman at the agency and for being the best. Her team consisted of the most respected and effective agents and that was exactly where he belonged. He wanted to work with the best, he wanted to be top of the class, he intended to become primus inter pares. The best of the best, notorious, feared, valued, celebrated, desired...all those things that had been refused to him throughout his childhood and youth. He had been a victim till he joined the army, a loser, a pussy. Now he was a winner and he would become a champ and claim what he deserved.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.

"Ready, Lark?"

"Coming."

He put on his jacket and straightened the soft brown fabric of his suit. Adjusting the matching tie, taking a deep breath he opened the door and smiled at Ben who just gave him a nod.

"Let's go," he said. "They're waiting."

****

She knew John Lark was trouble the moment she saw him. It was nothing specific that made her feel this way, not his looks or his behaviour, it was more the aura that surrounded him. Lu couldn't quite put a finger on it, but she knew she had to be careful around him right away.

"Mr. Lark...John," Adam greeted his new employee friendly, flashing him a bright smile. "I suppose it's okay to call you John?" Not waiting for an answer he continued while shaking August's hand. "Really nice to meet you. Welcome to your new home."

August returned the smile. "Thank you, Mr. Mayfield. Nice to meet you too."

"Please, call me Adam. There's no need for formalities. After all, we're going to live together, work together…"

Another charming smile. The guy was smooth, August had to admit. He was even more handsome than his picture had suggested, with fine facial features, tall and lean, exuding natural elegance and wit. A charmer and a ladies man for sure.

"This is my fiancee, Lu Johnson." Adam pulled Lu close, wrapping his arm around her shoulder in a possessive manner before kissing her cheek tenderly. He usually wasn't the kind of person who liked public displays of affection but Lu knew it was his way to put John Lark into his place right from the start, to make sure he was aware who she belonged to.

Lark was dangerously good looking and way too attractive for Adam to let it go without staking his claim. Not that Lu was interested in him, he wasn't even her type -too many muscles and probably too little brains- and she would never dare to even look at another man. But objectively he was very good looking, tall and broad shouldered, sharp jawline, a handsome face, outstanding blue eyes, and most of all he had an appeal that obviously hadn't remained hidden to Adam. "She's going to be your charge. I cherish her like life itself. Make sure you do the same when I'm not around."

Mayfield kissed her again and she blushed, obviously feeling uncomfortable being the center of attention.

"John," she said softly, extending her hand to him gracefully with a polite but distant smile on her pretty face. Just like her fiance she was strikingly beautiful but in comparison her beauty was a little steril, forced. She was lacking the naturalness Mayfield owned, maybe because she wasn't born into the social class she lived in now. It felt like she was wearing a mask. Her appearance was too immaculate to be real, too perfect. There had to be a crack in it, nobody was free of flaws, but whatever it was that was lying underneath the sleek, stainless surface, she was hiding it well.

"Miss Johnson." August shook her hand and held her gaze, giving her a smile and a respectful nod.

"Lu, please," she offered stiffly, pointing at the set dining table. "Why don't we sit."

"Yes, darling, you're right. Let's eat before the Beef Wellington gets cold."

***

August found all of his prejudice confirmed during dinner. Mayfield was a cocky prick, who tried to hide his asshole side under a veil of sophistication and British humour. That veil, luckily, was full of holes big enough for August to see right through.

Johnson however was an ice queen. Cool and aloof, not willing to lower herself to talk to the newest member of her royal court. He wanted nothing more than to ignore her, to make her feel that he wasn't in need of her attention, to make it clear that he wasn't attracted to her in any way. It was actually true. She was pretty of course and sexy, too, but the kind of beauty she represented was not his cup of tea. She was one of those ethereal beings who were much too fragile for him, too fanciful, too distant. Like a precious showpiece that was presented on a pedestal and that whispered "look at me" seductively but at the same time it shouted "don't touch…you're not worthy". He needed a woman to be more than beautiful, he liked women that were sturdy and energetic, lively and witty, confident and strong. He didn't want a queen, he wanted an amazon.

So all of this and more made him dislike her, but he still had to be friendly and charming to gain her trust and to make her fond of him without alarming Mayfield. He was obviously very possessive and protective, the jealous-for-no-reason kind of guy who would make his woman wear a chastity belt if it was socially acceptable. To sum it up, this job was a ride on the razor's edge.

"So how do you like your room, John?" Lu turned to him with a friendly smile. Those were the first words she addressed to him since they'd sat down to eat. Adam had engaged Lark in conversation from the very first moment and Lu took care not to interrupt him. He hated it and he'd accuse her of stealing his thunder afterwards for sure. So she kept quiet, trying to blend into the scenery, contenting herself with being not much more than a pretty ornament, decoration like the sculptures that were placed all over the penthouse - a beautiful, silent object. When Adams' phone rang, he took the call with an apologetic smile, leaving the room in a hurry. Now she was forced to make conversation with her new bodyguard and she felt uncomfortable and awkward because she assumed that he didn't like her. He had seen her and he had branded her, just like anybody else, she was quite sure of that.

"It's great, I like the modern style," August said, returning her smile.

"Really? I'm so glad to hear that." Her face lit up in an instant, her lips curling up into a genuine smile. "I refurbished it a few months ago and Eddie... your predecessor… he didn't really like it."

"Oh, why's that?"

Lu took a deep breath before she answered. "I'm not sure, I never asked him. I didn't want to put him on the spot, but I guess it wasn't cosy in his eyes. Not warm enough. He was a very traditional man…," Lu said and her expression softened with her words, her eyes giving away that she had liked the guy, that she was mourning him.

Not the ice queen you pretend to be, August thought surprised.

"Well, I'm not a traditionalist, I like it bright and clear. The black and white photos are really interesting."

"Aren't they?" Lu agreed with excitement that made her voice sound different, like it had just been brought to life. "They are works by a very talented young artist from France. I discovered her art when we were in Paris last year and now I exhibit her photographs in my gallery. People love her unique take on everyday life, the way she plays with light and angles. She's one of my most successful…"

"Don't bore your new guardian angel to death with your art stuff on the very first day, honey," Adam interrupted her chuckling, when he joined them again.

"I was just talking about the pictures in John's room."

"Sure, and those are lovely pictures," he gave her a generous smile and a peck on the cheek, "but we both know you tend to babble on about the topic and that can be a little unnerving."

"Of course, you're right, darling." Lu's mask was back on, her expression blank again. "I'm sorry, John. Sometimes I forget that most people don't share my passion for art. Consider yourself lucky that Adam saved you just in time."

John gave her a nod and a smile. He wanted to say something, feeling the need to let her know that she hadn't been boring him, but before he was able to do so, Adam carried on with their conversation about his new job and his duties and the wasted chance to show his solidarity with her left a bitter taste in John Lark's mouth.

*******

Taglist (let me know if you want to be added or removed)

@lunedelorient @inlovewithhisblueeyes @willkatfanfromasia @hell1129-blog @mis-lil-red @agniavateira @kebabgirl67 @omgkatinka @legendarywizarddetective @summersong69 @taebfada @xxxkatxo @artandotherdelights @notabronte @littlefreya @luclittlepond @eldarwen333 @meowpurrbooks @marantha @liliumdream @enchantedbytomandhenry @greensleeves888 @witcherfan @margauxmargaux07 @radaofrivia @m07belzen @a-little-counter-esperanto @starstruckkittyangel @mary-ann84 @sillyrabbit81 @emelinelovesjc @wheretheriversrunintothesea @lam0ureuxq @kingliam2019 @pandaxnienke @littleone65 @coloraturadiva

[kmclaude]

Hear me out, hear me out:

Annemarie is kinda the town slut, right? She's not the pickiest dater out there, and really I get the impression that she'll go for most dudes who will give her a chance, and that really, she'll overlook any issues so long as it doesn't put her at immediate risk.

Imagine the closeted gay dude in the town deciding to date her to prove he's totally straight (I mean look at her, she's super feminine and totally a girl that straight dudes like) and she's not *bad* looking even if she's not his uh. preferred gender. Everything's Fine (tm) in the relationship, she pretends she can't tell that he's totally thinking about dudes in bed, and he pretends that he's into women.

The issues arise when he finally notices (older teen) Tiefer, and realized that while Anne is great and all, he'd really rather have that little closeted twink. Of course he continues the relationship with Anne to keep up appearances (and so he continues to have access), but he absolutely starts going after Emi. They start a secret side affair and things fall apart from there.

Thoughts?

Ok, I really should send in how I imagine the "Closeted dude dates Anne to get to Tiefer" au ending:

Annemarie finds out, is *enraged* in a way she hasn't been before, leaves the boyfriend, and does her damndest to block access. To the point of doing something drastic. Whether that be rumor-spreading, murder, or outing him to the authorities/locals.

Either way she makes DAMN sure Emilien knows that this is his fault and that she'll do it again. Fucks with him for the rest of his life, and fucks with him HARD about Nathan being at risk.

oh I have so many thoughts (starting with your honor i love this)

Em would absolutely try and seduce him -- at this point it's almost a competition of sorts between them, Em trying to wreck her fun, see how many of her men he can turn -- that it's almost a shock when this one is like him.

(Annemarie pretends she doesn't see his game--after all, they come back to her in the end, they always do, the few that try him out do it just to relieve tension, as their dad would say when he pressed a finger inside her at fucking eleven years old--)

Em having fucking fun, aware he's a twinky piece of jailbait for some guy who can barely get it up for his sister but he's what that guy actually wants rather than a punching bag with holes for when her majesty got hers and is done for the night. He's first pick, not sloppy seconds, and it's with someone just like him, someone who might just get what other men like, someone for whom he's not just some brat.

God he'd be gutted when it's all taken away. Maybe even feel guilty -- he did crack the guy's shell, maybe he wouldn't have if he hadn't pushed his buttons -- but mostly terrified when Annemarie runs to the sheriff's office (the sheriff who's dick she'd happily bounce on between marriages and divorces and who tended to be sweet on her even when he had a ring on his finger) and gives some sob story about catching her brother being abused by some queer child predator and oh its all her fault she thought she could trust him but he was using her to get to her brother and boo fucking hoo so the sheriff and his son (who'd held Emi down a year prior with a few other ex-lovers of Anne's and fucked him senseless, funny enough) ride down and catch Em and this guy together and drag the guy out the house.

Em gets a front-row seat to the guy beaten within an inch of his life, all while Annemarie makes a big show of fussing over him, wailing about how she's so sorry she didn't know how could this have happened oh her poor baby brother, whispering in his ear that this is all his fucking fault because it is, isn't it, if he hadn't have spread his legs a man wouldn't be choking on his own blood in the dirt. "It's my job to protect you, Emi, I'm just doing my job..."

And oh the mental fuckery about Nathan being at risk? Oh, oh, ohhhhh delicious, Em would be torn between keeping Nathan at arm's length and clinging to him.