#yes i may have forgotten but at least it's still early

[pepi-nillo]

HI TODAY IS MY BEYOND EVIL ANNIVERSARY and to celebrate i watched the last two episodes, cried, ate a pizza, cried over a "juwon-ah", and cried a bit more. a whole year of BE brainrot!! heck yea!!!

[murdockparker]

Our Cottage

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Summary: A first anniversary is nearly as important and memorable as the wedding day—if only she had remembered it. Or, at the very least, hoped her husband also forgot. Knowing her husband? Unlikely.

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: fluffy fluff!! cheesy as cheese gets I'm afraid, mentions and illusions of sex but no smut (sorry babes maybe next time)

A/N: Another self indulgent fic for me myself and I. You're welcome to read it if you want I guess—I have nothing else to say about it

__

The room was too fragrant. 

Maybe it was her sensitive sense of smell that had awoken her, but something about the near ten bouquets that adorned her bedchambers led her to believe that both could be true. 

“What in the world?”

“Good morning, ma’am,” Mrs. Crabtree said, knocking unceremoniously on the door. “I do hate to intrude on your beauty sleep, but I was instructed to beat the drapes and I’m afraid this is the last room I have left to do.”

“No, no,” (Y/N) groaned, sitting up in bed, “I bet it’s time for me to rise anyway. Can’t sleep the day away.”

“You’re much more forgiving than Mr. Bridgerton,” Mrs. Crabtree smiled, entering further into the bedchambers. “As much as I miss the young master’s presence here at the estate, if he found out that I awoke you early,” she laughed quietly, “I reckon the mister and I would be packing our bags before nightfall.”

“Oh please,” (Y/N) peeled the covers off of her body, stretching her legs, “Benedict loves you both dearly—”

“But he loves you more,” the woman points, making good work of taking the drapes off the wall. “Why, do you think Mr. Bridgerton would purchase the same amount of flowers for me?”

She looks closer at the bouquets—all full of a different variety of blooms. Most filled with her favorites, but a handful were a collection of his favorites as well. “Why did Benedict purchase all of these flowers, anyway? It seems excessive…”

Mrs. Crabtree’s smile seemed secretive at first, fading in realization after looking Mrs. Bridgerton in the eyes. “Oh, my dear, you’re serious.”

“Benedict is usually known for romantic gestures,” (Y/N) said indifferently, “I do not recall a time he did something quite like this, though.”

“Well, I can recall a time Mr. Crabtree and I had to clean up a shocking amount of paint and a few precarious handprints across his study…”

She wished she was still in bed, wanting nothing more than to pull the covers over her bright red face. It was one of the many nights of their honeymoon—Benedict had the bright idea to try and paint with their bodies instead of brushes. She thought he had the decency to clean it all up in the morning. She thought, anyhow.

“I-I’m sorry you had to clean up such a mess,” (Y/N) said, praying the apology could transcend lifetimes. “I will be sure to let Benedict know he needs to be more careful with his oils.”

“Oh, your love keeps me young, ma’am,” Mrs. Crabtree said. “But as I was saying—do you really not realize why your husband had purchased so many flowers?”

“Not a clue.”

“Perhaps it isn’t my place,” Mrs. Crabtree said slowly. “But you and the master have been married for a year now.”

“Yes, yes,” (Y/N) waved. “Nearly year of marital bliss—”

“A year ago, today.”

“Today is… surely not…”

Noticing a perfectly placed card in the bouquet on her nightstand, she grabbed it and quickly sped over the looping font.

~

Dearest,

I hope these blooms find you well, I instructed the Crabtrees to be extra careful in their delivery this morn. As exquisite as the flowers may be, and I insisted on their exquisiteness, they could never hold a candle to you. Light of my life and song of my heart, how pleasantly perfect the last year has been. 

Happy anniversary, my love.

Yours forever,

B

~

Their anniversary. Their first anniversary, and she had completely forgotten about it.

“Mr. Bridgerton is still visiting Kent until this evening,” Mrs. Crabtree explained, as if the young missus didn’t know. “I’m sure that provides ample time to prepare something for his arrival, at the very least twelve hours give or take.”

“How could I have forgotten?” (Y/N) was beside herself, forgetting her anniversary? Her first anniversary? Surely it wasn’t an omen of some kind. She was holding onto his note rather tightly. “What kind of a wife am I?”

“Not a terrible one,” Mrs. Crabtree said. “Why, I recall forgetting quite a few of my anniversaries as well.”

“Not your first one though, correct?”

“Well, no—”

“We need to go to town,” (Y/N) said determinedly, flinging her closet open, eyes scanning over every sensible dress she owned. “I need to figure out a way to top whatever spectacle my husband has planned for this evening.”

“I’ll call for a carriage,” Mrs. Crabtree sighed, knowing full well that the drapes will not get finished this afternoon.

_

“If we were in London, why, I’d have hundreds of choices on what to get Benedict,” (Y/N) said, skimming through the few booths at the market. Life out in the country was agreeable, favorable even, but it was moments like these that she truly missed the convenience of living in such a populated place. “I just do not see how I am to make a gift with anything here.”

“Perhaps, ma’am,” Mrs. Crabtree said, carrying a basket full of fresh fruit and veg—taking every opportunity of the market while they’re out, “perhaps you should try gifting something from the heart?”

“What to wives usually get their husbands for the first anniversary?” (Y/N) asked absentmindedly, fingers running over a healthy pile of apples.

“I find that most women in your place have the pleasure of gifting news of an heir right around or before the year mark,” Mrs. Crabtree said, a hint of a smile dancing on her lips. “I don’t suppose you can surprise Mr. Bridgerton with such news?”

Her face went red. “No. Decidedly not.”

“Shame,” Mrs. Crabtree clicked, “I was rather hoping to be doting on a babe sometime soon…”

“What did you give Mr. Crabtree for your anniversary?” (Y/N) tried to change the subject, ignoring the perfect thought of a little baby with Benedict’s eyes. Perhaps they would have her nose? Her smile?

“Well,” the older woman’s face lit up, “our Henry was the best kind of gift—for me or Mr. Crabtree. I wish I could be more help in that regard, dear.”

Defeated, (Y/N) threw a handful of apples into her basket. The apples weren’t even all that good this time of year. Perhaps she could convince Mrs. Crabtree to bake a pie. Either way, a snack for the horses and their hard work this morning.  

“Please forgive me for speaking out of turn, ma’am,” Mrs. Crabtree spoke quietly, “but your husband loves you dearly, I am quite sure he would be most content with any gift you give him.”

“Oh I am sure he would be well suited to accept anything I made or purchased,” (Y/N) agreed. “I rather think I could sneeze on a piece of parchment and he’d write to the National Gallery to induct it into their collection.”

“He would,” Mrs. Crabtree agreed, holding back a laugh.

“Why did I marry such a thoughtful man?” (Y/N) groaned, fist clenching tighter on her basket. “I am destined to be in this predicament every year until the day I perish, aren’t I?”

“To be in a happy marriage, ma’am?”

“To have to deal with my inadequacy for gifts,” she corrected. “We are but a competitive match, after all. Chess is a blood sport with us,” (Y/N) laughed, recalling the last time they had played the game. They both were of the same mind, irritating as it were, it was as if they were playing themselves. It usually ended well regardless, with one under the other in the bedroom. “He probably has been planning something since we were wed, I’m sure. How do I ever top such a thing?”

“Might I suggest the baby narrative again?”

“Mrs. Crabtree, I know you mean it in jest, but it really sounds like my only option at this point.”

“I cannot help my need to see perfect little Bridgerton babies around the estate,” Mrs. Crabtree said cleverly. “But I also know when that day comes and you and Mr. Bridgerton do end up having children, it will be the most welcome of presents. Just, not this year, hm?”

“No,” she sighed, “not this year.”

“Very well,” Mrs. Crabtree nodded. “Perhaps we should head back to the estate?”

“I suppose,” (Y/N) sighed again, kicking a stray rock off of the path. “No use in sulking at the market when I can sulk in the comfort of my own home and await my perfect husband’s arrival with his perfect present.”

“Chin up, dear,” Mrs. Crabtree laughed, putting the baskets away in the carriage. “It’s endearing that you care so deeply about Mr. Bridgerton's gift. I’m sure whatever you land on will be just perfect.” A tease of sarcasm, a tease at her young missus. 

“You’ve made your point,” (Y/N) grumbled, hopping into the cab. “Perhaps I should just accept defeat.”

“Oh, well now that won’t do,” Mrs. Crabtree admonished playfully, closing the door behind her. The carriage begun moving home. “You yourself said you were a competitive match, and I for one would like to see Mr. Bridgerton bested. All men need to be reminded that the wife is the true head of the house from time to time.”

(Y/N) snorted. How she cared so deeply for the staff here in the country, the Crabtrees were always a breath of fresh air. “He’s well aware.”

“Remind him anyway,” Mrs. Crabtree said absentmindedly.

As if struck by lightning, Mrs. Bridgerton knew exactly what she could gift her husband.

_

Benedict was exhausted. His family’s bad timing is never lost on him, needing his immediate attention at Aubrey Hall for one reason or another. His mother’s correspondence begged him to come urgently, a matter only meant to be discussed in person rather through letters. With a heavy heart he left his wife behind, knowing he’d only be gone for a handful of days anyway, even if he would be missing the majority of their anniversary day. 

Benedict grinned wickedly. They still had plenty of the night, however.

When he originally had purchased My Cottage, he never expected to share the less-than-humble estate with anyone else, but like it was meant to be—and he had a very good reason to believe it was—(Y/N) made it her own and took to the country as well as he thought. She had even made fast friends with the Crabtrees, who, by all regards, Benedict thought of as family. 

“Mr. Bridgerton,” Mr. Crabtree greeted, nodding to the young master exiting the carriage. Anthony had sent for him with a family transport—knowing Benedict would not want to leave (Y/N) without—all the more reason for his brother to agree to come to Aubrey Hall. “Welcome home, sir.”

“Crabtree,” Benedict nodded back, jumping down to the dirt path.

“How was your family, sir?”

“Dreadful,” Benedict groaned. “Made even more taxing by the two entire days of travel there and back. Do they not realize how far Wiltshire is to Kent?”

“I am sure the viscount is well aware,” Mr. Crabtree said, treading lightly. “I am also sure that they would not have called upon you for a small matter, either.”

“No,” Benedict sighed, rolling his shoulders. The trip had been a long one, his muscles ached. “It was a good reason for my visit, but it still pained me to be from my wife for so very long, especially today.”

“Ah, well, your missus has not been herself since you left,” Mr. Crabtree said. “I am quite sure that seeing you will be a happy reunion indeed.”

“Please ensure that you and your missus find your lodgings in the cabin, this eve,” Benedict said, as if the thought just occurred to him. Asking his staff to stay at the cabin by the pond became a regular occurance, especially after his marriage. “It is my anniversary, after all.”

Mr. Crabtree smiled. “Already done, sir.”

“Excellent,” Benedict said, trying his best not to grin from ear to ear. “Have a good night.”

“You as well, sir.”

Benedict knew that dinner would be waiting for him inside, Mrs. Crabtree probably having already made his favorites. After his day of travel, he was ravenous—more for food in this very moment than anything else, but he would settle for his wife, too.

“Darling,” Benedict called out, removing his boots by the front entryway. “Your fantastic husband has returned!”

Silence.

“Darling?” He called again, only to be met with the ticking of the grand clock in the foyer. “Playing hard to get, it seems…”

A shimmering of light caught his eye. Candlelight was emitting from his study, his studio, flickering from the crack under the door. 

Odd.

“(Y/N)…?”

He opened the door cautiously, only to find his wife hunched over an easel. She had a streak of blue paint on her right cheek, a smidge of green right across the bridge of her nose. Benedict couldn’t recall the last time he saw something so endearing. 

“Oh! Benedict!” (Y/N) said, nearly jumping five feet into the air. “You’re home!”

“I am,” he laughed, shutting the door to the study. “What’re you doing in here?”

“Cooking,” she deadpanned, posing with a hand on her hip, painters pallet in the other. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“After all my begging to get you to pick up a brush, you decide to do it whilst I’m away?” He pressed his hand to his chest. “I cannot decide if I am touched or hurt.”

“It was meant to be a surprise!” (Y/N) laughed, setting the pallet down. “A gift for you.”

“A gift?” Benedict mused, walking closer to his wife. “And what did I do to deserve such a gift?”

“You married me,” she said simply, wiping her hands of any wet paint. They were still covered in a kaleidoscope of colors, but all dried down and hardly worth the effort to clean at the present moment. “A year ago today, I gather.”

“Oh yes,” Benedict said knowingly. “That is today, isn’t it?” His wife grinned up at him, looking more beautiful than the day he met her, a day he could have sworn was burned into his mind forever. 

“So I’ve been told,” (Y/N) said. “I hate to admit, but I started on this later that I would have liked, only working on it for the last eight hours—” 

“You didn’t happen to forget our anniversary, did you?” Benedict crossed his arms, his voice teasing.

“Of course not!” She lied, keeping her voice even. “You are just an impossible person to make a gift for, that is all.”

“Ah,” Benedict clicked. He did not believe her, but forgave her all in the same breath. “I see.”

“So it is not yet finished—”

“May I see it?”

“No, not yet,” (Y/N) said, turning the easel away quickly. He couldn’t have possibly seen what it was from where he was standing, anyway.

“What if…” Benedict crossed the room, carefully opening the closet in the wall. “We showed them together?” He pulled a similar sized canvas from the contents of the closet, covered in a plain white sheet. Of course he painted her something, it seemed only right. She married an artist, after all.

“Yours is going to be much better than mine,” (Y/N) said, nearly melting into the floor. “I will feel inadequate comparing our work.”

“Nonsense,” Benedict scoffed, walking back towards his wife. “They were both made with the same amount of love, I’m sure of it.”

“Perhaps…”

“Come on,” he said, nudging her arm with the corner of his canvas lovingly. “On the count of three?”

She nodded. “One.”

“Two.”

“Three.”

She spun the easel around just as Benedict removed the cover from the canvas in his hand. 

Laughter filled the room.

“Oh my darling, I could kiss you,” Benedict said, voice full of love, his eyes not straying from her canvas for a moment. “Granted, I have wanted nothing more than to kiss you since I arrived—”

“Out of everything we could have painted,” (Y/N) giggled, brushing hair out of her face. “We picked the same subject?”

On both canvases laid a landscape rendition of My Cottage, one obviously more well-done than the other. Benedict’s gave a sense of perfect imperfection, something worth hanging in a gallery or museum. (Y/N)’s, while being done by the hand of a novice in only a handful of hours, gave it the sense of home, the shared feeling the couple had every day at their estate.

“We share the same mind,” Benedict surmised, setting his work on a neighboring easel, putting both side-by-side. “What a stunning collaboration on our end.”

“You jest,” (Y/N) pushed Benedict playfully. “Yours is far superior to mine. A toddler could have done better work.”

“Nonsense!” Benedict said, pulling his wife into his side, kissing her temple. “You obviously put such care into it, no matter how lopsided the left side of our home may be—”  

“Benedict—”

“It’s brilliant, my love,” Benedict sang, turning (Y/N) to look directly at him. “I couldn’t have asked for a better gift.”

“Truly?”

“Well, I fear I am still waiting on my welcome kiss…” Benedict sighed.

“Needy, needy man,” (Y/N) bubbled, rocking on her toes to reach her husband’s face, all but happy to oblige. 

After a total of four days apart, the kiss was one that was worth waiting for. Saccharine sweet and slow, it was welcoming, it was home. Much like their first kiss, Benedict idly wondered if (Y/N)’s lips were always meant to be captured in his own—as if they were quite literally made for each other. 

“Oh dear,” (Y/N) giggled, pulling away from her husband’s embrace, thumb rubbing soothing circles on his jaw. He needed to shave.

“What? Do I have something on my face?” 

“Paint,” she said, swiping her thumb across his cheek. “Entirely my fault. I’m not even sure how I got it on my face to begin with…”

“Hardly the first time,” Benedict quipped, leaning back in to kiss her once more. 

“Do you really like it?” (Y/N) asked, resting her head on his shoulder—their attention somehow turned back to the canvases. “Or are you lying to me?”

“I would never lie to you,” Benedict said. She believed him. “But, I do suppose a few more hours would boast well to the quality…”

Another playful slap to his arm. 

“Where are we to hang yours?” Her hand grazed his masterpiece. He must have finished it ages ago, hiding it away for just the right moment. “The entryway gets too much sun—” 

“What about our bedchambers?” He offered. 

“No, I want our guests to admire your work of Our Cottage,” she hummed, focusing her attention to the beautiful wreath he lovingly added to the front door. She loved adorning their door with fresh flowers, a detail he surely could have overlooked, but still included anyway. “Perhaps in the drawing room?”

“Our Cottage…” Benedict mumbled happily. “I think it’s high time we changed the name to that, don’t you agree? Seeing as it is no longer ‘my’ anything, not with you here.”

“Considering it still is not a cottage in the slightest, I have a few disagreements on that alone,” she teased. Their estate was nearly the furthest thing from a cottage, nearly a small mansion. “But yes… Our Cottage seems fitting.”

“And where will we hang your masterpiece?” Benedict pulled her tighter into his side. “Shall we hang them side-by-side? Allow our guests to see just how talented the Bridgertons can be?”

“Oh I am quite alright with stowing this away until forever,” (Y/N) laughed. “No guest needs to see this poor attempt when the true artistry falls onto you.”

“Poppycock!” Benedict dismissed. “My wife worked very hard on this, I refuse to just ‘stow it away’.”

“Well, then where do you suggest we hang it?” She said, trying not to smile, his praise flooding her senses from her head to her toes. 

“I may have a few ideas…”

_

The wondrous scent of flowers filled their home once more, something that happened more and more frequently in the summer months, when flowers of all sorts were in season. Benedict made sure he outdid himself from last year, adorning each room in their home with at least two bouquets each, rather than just a load in their bedchambers. His reasoning? They only get the once to celebrate their second anniversary, might as well make it special.

“Should we move this one?” (Y/N) asked, holding a rather large assortment in her hand. “I would hate for her to be overwhelmed by the scent…”

“Darling, she’s fine,” Benedict said, grabbing the bouquet from his wife. “But, if you insist, I shall make an exception on this room.”

“She’s a baby,” (Y/N) giggled, watching her husband clumsily run across the hall to place the bouquet in their bedchambers. “I do not think she has the capacity to admire such a thing yet.”

“We want our daughter to be well versed, do we not?” Benedict said, returning to the nursery. “Best we start her on the language of flowers as soon as we can. An educated lady is a respected lady.”

“You’re impossible,” (Y/N) grinned.

“So I’ve been told.”

“God, she’s so perfect,” she said, looking over the crib with a look one could only describe as lovestruck. “How did we manage to make such a beautiful thing?”

“You did most of the work,” Benedict said, suddenly beside her. “I only showed up the once, if I recall.”

“Oh hush,” (Y/N) leaned up against him, feeling the warmth of his body touching her own. “A perfect anniversary present.”

“She’s been quite the gift the last few months, I’ll give you that,” Benedict hummed, his fingers lazily rubbing shapes on the top of her arm. “But I’m afraid that title still falls to the gift from last year.”

Framed perfectly atop the crib of their precious baby girl was the rendition of their home, the one (Y/N) had worked so hard on a year prior. While it had looked a bit more polished after Benedict offered his wife some very well needed advice, it was still lopsided and patchy, but very much full of love. He had hung it two weeks later, after it had completely dried and framed, causing his wife to sob tears of joy on the placement. 

Their daughter was born only nine months after.

“Our Cottage,” she sighed happily.

“Our Cottage,” Benedict kissed her temple, looking down at his daughter and back at his beautiful wife. “Happy anniversary, my love.”

[theorphicangel]

𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐨 𝐜𝐢𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐦𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬. | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Synopsis: It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single, brooding man in possession of a good future in genetics, must be in want of a girlfriend.

Or at least a fake one to get his family off his back.

(college au & fake dating trope ft my favourite grumpy man who doesn't fall first but ends up falling harder. ouch.)

ao3

series | next chapter

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞: 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝…𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐞?

You’re running late.

But then again…is there ever a day when you’re not running late?

It’s hard to differentiate whether it’s due to the fact that you left all your pre-reading till the last minute or if your alarm forgot to go off or if it was due to you oversleeping for an additional thirty minutes because your roommate had dragged you out last night for the fourth freshers party of the week.

Either way, you’re running late. Your bag is frantically packed with notebooks and random essentials, your laptop is less than half-charged and your socks are mismatched. It’s not the best start that you had imagined for your first week of lectures but as you glance at digits in the corner of your phone, you figure that you don’t even have the time to complain.

The campus is still relatively new to you, and also fucking huge. Groups of people swarm around like insects, trying to find their way around to their own lecture. Glancing down at the map app currently open on your phone, a frown reaches your brows.

It seems like you’re still so far away from the humanities block which is on the other side of campus.

You scroll down, pausing your steps to look for another route. If only there was….

‘Want a shortcut? Press here.’

“Yes fucking please.” you mutter to yourself, clicking the bold button absentmindedly.

—

The muffled sound of a robotic voice announcing your destination perks up your mood entirely as you reach the lecture doors of 202. You made it with just about five minutes to spare and you’ve never felt prouder, not even during all those times when you’ve forgotten to study for exams but had luckily gotten away with pretty decent grades.

Entering the hall, you find most seats are taken, nearly all the rows are unavailable. Scanning around desperately, you find a seat near the back next to a guy mindlessly scrolling on his phone. Hastily, you walk to your desired seat before the rest of the row fills up, and you find that as soon as you have taken your seat, there’s no spare seats left at all.

Taking a deep breath, your anxiety now sits comfortably in the pit of your stomach.

This is how college was supposed to go.

Prepared, calm and on time. You’re so relaxed right now that you’re not even slightly bothered about the percentage of your laptop when you slide it open in front of you, knowing that you have your notebooks in your bag if needed. You take a quick sip of water before the lecture begins and soon all conversations in the room seem to die away slowly.

Those unlucky enough to have found a seat, have to settle with sitting on the steps of the lecture hall. A silent sigh of relief that you are not a part of that majority runs through your body. God, you forget that literature was so oversubscribed.

A hushed silence takes over the room and a steady grin creeps at the corner of your lips as you wait for the professor to start.

“Good morning all, it is nice to see you all bright and early for the first genetics lecture of the year. I know some of you had to clear up clashes with microbiology this morning which may be the reason why we are so oversubscribed today, but we’ll make do, there’s plenty of room for everyone.”

Remember that eager, excited smile that you just had a few moments ago? Yeah, well it just died and here was the funeral. You blink in confusion as the words of the lecture settles into your brain.

Genetics? Microbiology? What the fuck was this professor talking about?

The lecturer drones on at the front of the hall, her voice echoing. “For those of you who don't know already, I'm professor Dr. Michaleson and I’ll be your genetics lecturer for the remainder of the year.”

Oh no. Oh fuck no. Oh hell no.

You look around, scanning the wide room to already see people begin to type away at their laptops. No one else in the room seems to be as confused as you are right now and it’s concerning. Reaching into your coat pocket, you open up your maps app checking your location.

Shit.

You’ve found yourself in the general medical sciences block, not arts and humanities. Zooming in further you find that the humanities block is direct from the building that you’re in right now.

If there was a moment for you to have a breakdown, it would be right now. All of your panicking and frantic packing that you had gone through this morning has now gone completely to waste because you’re not even in the right fucking lecture hall.

You turn towards the person on your left but notice that they’re rapidly typing away as the lecturer proceeds to run over the future modules for the course. Not wanting to bother her, you decide to glance towards your right, to the guy who was once mindlessly scrolling on his phone who has now replaced it with his very own laptop but…he’s not typing away yet.

So you take your chances.

“Hey.” you whisper, trying to keep your panic out of your voice. You lean over a little so that he can hear you.

The man frowns a little, looking towards you.

“What?” His tone is soft like yours, quiet so as not to disrupt other people but you can’t help but notice the annoyed intonation in his voice.

“What lecture are we in right now?” you subtly prompt, quickly noticing the crease between the eyebrows of the stranger sitting next to you. His nose curves up in distaste as if you’ve just asked him whether he thinks the earth is round or flat.

“Please, just answer my question.” you plead gently, reading his expression.

You know he probably takes you for an idiot right now but you just need confirmation so that,

One: You hadn’t just misheard and this was definitely a genetics lecture

And two: If it was a genetic lecture this officially gives your body the right to go into full panic mode right now.

The guy lets out a light sigh before answering, “We’re in genetics right now.”

“Fuck!”

A few heads in the row in front of your glance back at the sound and automatically your cheeks burn up out of embarrassment.

“Why are you asking?” the man sitting beside you questions.

You hesitate in giving your answer, embarrassed that you had messed up one of the most basic rules of things not to do at university. Now it’s your turn to let out a beaten down sigh.

“I–”

“You’re in the wrong lecture, aren’t you?” the stranger estimates. Clearly based on your mixed expression of disappointment and panic.

You nod silently, rubbing your hands across your face. Internally, you wished that you could go back in time. Back to before you had entered this stupid lecture room, double checking the location or at least had the chance run out before the lecture had started.

“What are you supposed to be in?”

“English Literature.”

The man sitting beside you stifles a laugh and again, a number of heads back to look at the two of you in frustration. He attempts to cover it up with a cough and you notice the way that his cheeks slowly turn to a dusty shade of pink.

“Por dios, what are you doing here?” he whispers. And again you don’t miss the tone of irritation in his voice.

“I–I think I got lost.” you stammer quietly, looking down at your phone. “I’m supposed to be here.” you point at a spot on your phone as you show him. “But I got it messed up.”

“It’s across from this building?”

You nod begrudgingly, before shutting off your phone and laying your head down on the table in surrender.

You stay down for a minute before perking back up. The lecturer is still droning on about god knows what and the man beside you begins to take notes.

Leaning over, you whisper another question.

“How long is this lecture?”

“Two hours.”

Yep, you were screwed.

And it wasn’t like you could get up and leave. Well, you could, but that would mean drawing all the attention from half of the people in the room, disrupting them and causing your entire row to stand up so that you could leave. You think that you’d rather die than be that person.

The man beside you says nothing more, choosing to ignore you and your situation as he types away along with the rest of the people in the hall.

Looks like you have no choice but to buckle yourself in for this ride.

—

Two hours later, you find yourself on level 12 of the world’s hardest game, still without any new literature knowledge but now have a deep insight into what the genetics modules will look like for the next three years as well as having a deep insightful knowledge about prokaryotic and eukaryotic organisms.

That’ll be some useful trivia some day at least.

You sit back watching everyone else pack away. The man beside you glances towards you briefly, he’s packed away too, now waiting for the people in your row to start filing out.

“Thinking about drastically changing your degree to biological sciences?” he asks, a smirk on his face.

You snort as you pack away your laptop, which surprisingly managed to survive the whole lecture.

“I fucking wish.”

“How about next time you check that you’re actually in the right block before stepping into a lecture hall?”

You barely know this man and yet you can feel his judgment, not just now but throughout the whole lecture you’ve felt his continuous side-eye as you died for the 400th time in your game.

“Will do.” you note, hoping to cut this conversation short. “Looks like I’ve got a literature lecture to catch up on.” you mumble to yourself as you begin to walk away, filing out of your row and heading to the doors.

/

“You what? Ended up at the wrong lecture hall?!”

Burying your head onto your arms, you groan aloud as a non-committal response. Your college roommate and new friend, Lyla, laughs out loud which unfortunately attracts eyes from around the cafe.

You groan, this being the second time that your face has burnt up this morning. “Please don’t make my misery any louder ly’ ”

She wipes at the corner of her eyes, adjusting her glasses. “I'm sorry, m’sorry.” She chokes, spluttering her hot chocolate. “But could you go through exactly what it was that you did again?”

You perk up your head on the table, keeping your eyelids shut. A mumble escapes from your lips.

Lyla cups her ears, teasing you unabashedly. “What was that?”

“Iendedupinageneticslecture.”

“What?”

“I ended up in a genetics lecture!”

And if you thought that her first laugh had been loud enough for the tables near you to hear, her second laugh practically caused the entire cafe to turn their eyes on you.

“This is all your fault by the way.” You pick up your cup of hot coffee and as if your day couldn’t get any worse, you’ve managed to burn your tongue and now you wonder whether there’s any point whatsoever in living on this sadistic earth.

Lyla points at herself, “Me? What did I do?!”

If you–” you lower your voice, cautious of multiple eyes staring at your table. “If you didn’t drag me out last night then maybe I wouldn’t have been so sleep deprived that I could have actually gotten to my proper lecture.”

Lyla snorts, waving her hands around. “Oh, please! Didn’t I get you that number off that guy you liked? Matt, was it?”

“Tom.”

“Right, whatever.” she says, picking up her cup and dipping her tongue into the generous amount of whipped cream and marshmallows that cover her hot chocolate. You stare at your own order in distaste, deeply wishing that you had gotten one too.

/

The next two weeks following your god awful mishap, you were fine.

From now on you and Lyla had a pact.

No more nights out.

Only up until the halloween season.

With your reading classes and her technology lectures, the two of you found each other up to your necks in assignments and essays along with being forced to help out with Lyla’s little coding club maintenance.

Thankfully you’ve managed to maintain some sort of routine, attending most – if not all – of your lectures both on time and double checking that you were in the right ones. You’ve made a few friends here or there at social events and finally found a job as a barista at the same cafe where Lyla gets her favorite hot chocolate from – and you must admit that they are pretty great.

All in all, college is going pretty great.

You think.

It’s going well in terms that you’ve managed to dodge every single phone call from your mom ever since you got here. Weekly, you’ve been coming up with good excuses and you don’t think that she’s caught on. Yet.

It was something that you had expected to happen once you made the decision to move away, I mean it was only fair, her only child leaving the bird’s nest, what else is she supposed to do?

You did feel guilty, of course you did. You hate lying to your mom but having her call every five minutes is not the reputation that you want to set up for yourself.

You’ll call her at the end of the week.

You swear on it.

- ‘Sorry, I’m in the library right now mom, I’ll call you back later okay? Love you <3’

Sent: 5:34pm

Setting your phone on ‘Do Not Disturb’, you place it next to your laptop, your playlist resuming through your headphones.

Another thing that you were also proud of yourself, was getting in regular study periods in preparation for midterms. Your old self would have been procrastinating right up until the night before the exam but now? You’ve matured. You’ve changed your ways for the better and by getting in some pre-reading of essays and books, you know that you’ll be thanking your future self in the long run if you keep up this mindset.

And this mindset is a great mindset…as long as you don’t get distracted.

/

You lasted ten minutes.

You had barely gotten through the second page before your attention was taken somewhere else and by somewhere else you mean somebody else. And this particular somebody reminds you of a moment that you are trying so hard to forget. Which is impossible to do when he had just so coincidentally pulled up a chair next to you.

It was him. The guy who you sat next to in the one lecture that we don’t talk about for certain implicit reasons.

On recognising his face, you hope that he doesn’t recognise you. He pulls up a chair beside you, not truly noticing you are until he glances up. You can already sense what he’s about to say. Taking off your headphones you go to speak but he suddenly cuts you off.

“I’m surprised that you didn’t mistake the janitor’s closet for the library then.”

“Oh, you’re funny.” you deadpan.

“I try to be.” he quips, the corners of his lips tilting upright.

Now that your body is not in fight or flight mode, you get a chance to take in this stranger. He’s…attractive. Conventionally. Tall. Awkwardly tall. Looks like one of those gym junkies or you guess that he actually is one based on those muscles on him. And those model cheekbones and naturally tanned skin and bushy eyebrows and soft lips–

“Do I have something on my face or are you just eyeballing me?”

“Neither.” you say, a little too quick for your judgment.

“There’s no shame in admitting the latter.” He prompts, a playful tone in his voice.

“You’re a little bit cocky don’t you think?”

This stranger leans back into his chair a little, raising a brow before dismissing your statement.

“I would disagree.”

“Of course you would, you’re a STEM student.”

The stranger huffs, glancing at you up and down. “At least I’m guaranteed a job as soon as I’m out of here.” He remarks, rummaging through his bag. “Good luck in getting out of your student debt with–” he squints over to one of the closed novels by your side. “Whatever book that you have over there.”

“You mean pride and prejudice?”

He simply shrugs, choosing to ignore you as he pulls out a huge textbook and his laptop.

Your eyes glimpse the front cover, reading ‘Biological Sciences.’ Your face turns to distaste at the thought of having to read that through your own free will.

“Have you read Pride and Prejudice?” you ask, trying to maintain a friendly unbiased tone.

“Never have and never will.”

“You’re missing out.”

“On what?” he scoffs, flicking a page of his massive textbook. It hurts your brain to even think about how much that would even cost. “A bunch of rich upper class Englishmen complain about their problems for a whole 300 pages?”

“Firstly,” you note, slightly offended. “That’s not what happens. Secondly, it’s 400 pages but it’s debatable depending on what version you buy. But when you suddenly get a gun cocked to your head with someone asking you to quote the first line from Pride and Prejudice one day, you’ll be regretting this conversation.”

“I highly doubt that’s even a probable situation.”

“There’s always a few anomalies lying around.” You shrug absentmindedly, flicking through your own novel which you had to complete reading for this week.

“Rarely.”

“But often enough to catch you off-guard.”

This…stranger lets out a sigh heavily through his nose, a sign of which you know means ‘please shut the fuck up.’ He ignores you for the nth time, eyes slightly squinting as he scrolls down, closely reading an article.

That’s it. You’ve lost your concentration. He’s ruined your mood and your mindset.

You begin to pack away, huffing as you place your novel in your bag. You’ll have to get started when you get home it seems.

“Don’t let me spoil your 19th century fun.” he murmurs, scrolling further down on the article.

“I’m going somewhere else, so that I won’t be bothered with your stupid microbiology shit.”

The man huffs, barely acknowledging you as you stand. “Good luck finding another free spot because this place is packed.”

“I’m heading home actually.” you quip, zipping up your bag after placing all your materials.

“Make sure that you don’t accidentally end up in someone else’s dorm–”

“Hilarious.”

You walk away before he can poke another joke at you. Once again, mocking you and you barely know his first name.

You kinda hope you never see him again. Partly because he’s an annoying STEM student but mostly because he reminds you of the excruciating pain that you went through by sitting in a genetics lecture for two hours without a single break.

Key word: kinda.

Reblogs are much appreciated!

let me know / send an ask if you would like to be tagged!

[shaywrites-ifs]

Demo // KOFI // 18+ Interactive Fiction

Last Update: June 9, 2024

You are the second child to Fabian Avis Mavar, the Left Hand to the Emperor. You were raised with privilege, with prestige, and with high expectations placed upon you. At least, that is how it should have been. Instead, you were born Marked- to have stars in your eyes and to be be blessed as a magical prodigy. If only the Mark didn't also leave you in constant frail health, a body that only survived because your father had the means and will to demand it.

For all you were loved- surely you had to be, for father to go to such efforts to save you, yes?- you were the one left out. You had strived to succeed, to stand in your own accomplishments. To play the court games, to claw and take what you deserved no matter how life kept fighting you.

For it did, at every turn.

You lost everything to the traitors, who killed your father, your elder brother, your beloved- they took your title, the crown, the empire. They took what you were.

After a particularly devastating attack, whatever they did, it changed you. And when your body finally healed enough to wake up, finally was good enough to move again- you realized it had been a thousand years. Still, you will survive- especially as you catch wind that you still have a chance at revenge.

High Fantasy Interactive Fiction Novel where you play as (what used to be) an elf with strong magical talents

Customize a semi-set MC, able to pick some personality traits, gender, appearance, and some favorites

Customization also effects MC's fraternal twin brother

Deal with the consequences of all that magical tampering, and maybe becoming a better person, maybe becoming a worse one

Romance some folks, possible additional romance options and polyamory relationships being considered

Maybe help your twin find romance, too

Story will primarily be choice based than stat based, and will be free to play when finished- any early releases or side content would not be

** in getting my shit wrecked and then sorted through 2023, there is a high chance these characters, and the romance options in general, are subject to change as I plan the game**

Camille of Louvel, the Vainglorious she/her, cis, human - she's talented enough of a swordsman to stand against your twin, who had once been considered the best swordsman in the Empire. Confident and professional to the point of being cold-hearted, she wears her armor like second skin. Unfortunately, she finds you more concerning than alluring.

Eiden, The Rejected he/they, trans, elf - devil may care and hedonistic, he is quite detached from the world. Unrushed, unworried, they flit through the world more as an observer than anything else, more dangerous than they seem. He's old, but you bring something new. Something that has him alert, again.

Dalmar Calix Thom Fausteus, The Shattered he/him, cis, human - once an esteemed gentleman, only child to a family of scholars, he grew up with many opportunities. However, his family was used and he himself betrayed by a friend, changed in more than one way. He's a focused individual, with workaholic tendencies and withdrawn. He's not looking for a friend, but a means to an end.

Vasil, The Forgotten they/them/it, entity- you know them. You knew them, at least. Not in any deep way. Not in any way that means anything. Except, you made a deal. And now, there are consequences.

Previous ROs, tentatively being cut

Leja Ushe, The Moonglade she/her, cis, elotian - unlike many of her kind, she has stayed to help. Attuned to the nature around her, and able to commune with the Spirits, she has more knowledge and answers than most could dream of. Charming, even a bit playful, she keeps her cards close to her chest, but has never let that stop her from showing kindness. She has become a safehaven for many, and perhaps, can be more for you.

Reimer 'Rei' Ara, The Steadfast he/him, cis, elotian - larger than life, considered sunshine in physical form, he meanders through the forests as a helpful, genial caretaker. A man of actions, he hides his worries behind smiles and continues to do what he can to support the forest and Leja. He is very excited to meet you, if not at least marginally confused over your problems, and eager to ease your burdens.

Vasil, The Forgotten they/them, entity- you know them. You knew them, at least. Not in any deep way. Not in any way that means anything. Except, you made a deal. And now, there are consequences.

*All of this is open to adjustment, changes, and fixes as this project is a work in progress

[napakmahal]

I’d never dreamed that I’d meet somebody like you

Pairing: Hiro Hamada/reader

Trigger warnings: heavy talks of grief and loss, depression (chat unfortunately Tadashi has died in this one)

“I don’t get why we’re driving two hours away just for therapy.” Hiro was becoming pissed off at his aunt's insistence that he go to therapy at least once a week either in person or on the phone. He liked phone therapy better, the crackling audio made it easier to hide slight twinges in his voice.

“It’s part of your plan, remember? Your doctor said that’s how we get you the best care possible and you agreed to try it, remember?” Cass pressed. Of course Hiro remembered, he remembered how bad it pissed him off. Why couldn’t they just leave him alone? He said he was fine, that should have been enough.

In one month Hiro had been passed around to three different therapists of different genders, nationalities, and backgrounds to try and connect with him better. None of them worked and it was becoming increasingly clearer that one-on-one therapy just wasn’t for him. He didn’t talk and when he did he lied. Plus, one-on-one with somebody twenty years older than him who’d forgotten what it was like to be fifteen or said stupid shit like “he’s in a better place now.” wasn’t super helpful.

So enter group therapy. Just a big circle of teens talking about their problems like a pubescent al-anon. Hiro may have been pissed but Cass had a right to be concerned. With him not going to school he had nothing to occupy his time. She’d wake up early to open the cafe and he’d already be up on his phone. And she knew for a fact he wasn’t getting any sleep. He’d sleep all day and eat nothing before being up all night and eating anything that was quiet enough she wouldn’t hear him.

“Just seems kinda pointless.” He sighed and leaned back in the passenger seat. “I’m fine, everyone’s just being so dramatic.”

Cass didn’t respond to that. She just leaned over and grabbed onto her nephew’s hand and kissed his palm. “Did you take your drops today?”

“Mmhm.” Hiro lied.

After the blast an EMT on sight noticed that Hiro’s right ear was bleeding from the pressure while he was taken to the hospital for possible concussion. For weeks after that all he could hear was a persistent ringing but thankfully he hadn’t lost his hearing and the fall had hurt his shoulder blades more than it’d hurt his head. After his brain scan in the hospital his doctor had told him how lucky he was. Hiro swore that if he ever got diagnosed with a stroke, he’d pray he wasn’t his doctor.

They pulled up to another branch of their hospital and parked out front and just in the truck silently.

“Can we go home now?” Hiro spoke up.

Cass let out a breathy laugh and looked over at him. “The program lasts ten weeks, if you make it to five and still want out then okay. Deal?” She held out her hand.

Hiro thought about it for a moment. Five weeks of keeping his mouth shut and letting other people talk about their problems for an hour and a half sounded like a solid enough idea. So he and his aunt shook on it.

Five weeks, just gotta make it five weeks.

They walked into the building with Cass’s arm draped over Hiro’s still healing shoulders. The second they arrived at the receptionists desk a tablet was shoved in their faces. “Sit down, fill out the online questionnaire.”

The questions were always the same:

In the past week I felt mad: sometimes, always, never, often

I worried something bad might happen: sometimes, always, never, often

I felt like I couldn’t do anything right: sometimes, always, never, often

I or people around me participated in substance abuse: I did, my friends and I did, my parents did, none of the above

Have you ever been diagnosed antidepressants: yes or no

Have you made any attempt to commit suicide or thought of commiting suicide within the past week: yes or no

It took Hiro a total of seven minutes to complete the questionnaire without putting any thought into his answers. When it was the ‘parent/guardian’ portion Cass took forever to finish.

When the questionnaire was filled out, a woman in a blue blouse and a key card walked over to them. She asked with sweetness, “Hiro?”

She introduced herself as Dr. Yang and walked Hiro and Cass all the way to her personal office. The walls were covered with older teens graduation photos, kindergarten drawings, and fidget toys on her shelves.

“I know you’re here for group, but because your previous doctors told us that you’ve never done group therapy before I just wanna give you the low down. Is that okay?” Dr. Yang looked at Hiro. He just nodded with a smile. Of course it was okay, he was here wasn’t he? She explained about how some of the kids had been doing groups with her before and how privacy in group settings worked. Hiro was all fine listening to all the foundational stuff until she started getting too personal.

Dr. Yang looked directly at him. “So, Hiro. Can we just talk a little bit about why you’re here? I was informed by one of your previous doctors that your brother just passed away recently. I’m so sorry for your loss, I’m sure it was hard.”

“It’s okay, thanks.” Hiro finally spoke up. It wasn’t okay but it made everyone less uncomfortable if he just said it was okay. “But I guess I’ve just been like- sad for a while.”

“And that’s perfectly alright.”

That was the thing that pissed Hiro off the most. How his therapists would reassure him that it was okay to be sad. No shit it was okay to be sad, somebody died! He knew that and having people say that to him made him feel like he was being treated like an idiot.

The two of them talked for a bit until Dr. Yang sent him out of the office so she could speak with Cass alone. One therapist had invited her into the room to ask her about her perspective and she ended up basically sobbing–which Hiro felt really bad about. It just went to show that she’d been spending a shit-ton of time worrying about him yet nobody was really worried about her.

Hiro walked over to the room his group would be meeting. Waiting for the pre-meeting with Dr. Yang and his aunt to be over when he saw you already sitting there. You looked up towards the door at the sound of footsteps. You two exchanged smiles but didn’t say anything to each other and Hiro took the seat two chairs away from you. It was awkward.

“Are you new?” You asked, trying to break the silence.

Hiro paused as if he was shocked you were talking to him but answered. “Yeah, this is my first group therapy session.”

“Cool, cool.” You nodded.

Awkward silence again.

This time Hiro spoke up first. “I like your shoes.”

“Oh thanks. Yours are cool too.” You pointed to his sneakers. The laces obviously didn’t come with the shoes when he bought them. He must have replaced them but they looked kinda cool. The session didn’t start for another fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes in that room in awkward silence sounded vile. “Do you want a lemonade pop? I know where they keep them.”

“Uhh, sure.” He agreed for the exact same reason you asked. The silence was deafening.

After you snuck your way into the first aid room and grabbed two lemonade pops from the freezer, you two sat down on the stool of one of the larger windows.

“So what are you here for?” You brought the frozen treat up to your lips.

Hiro was still trying to open his when he said, “Because I’m sad.”

“We’re all sad, you’ll fit right in.” You joked. Hiro genuinely let out a small laugh at that which felt nice. “No but pretty much everyone here is chill.”

“How many times have you done this?” He took a small scrape of the pop with his front teeth.

“This will be my second program and my last. I mostly know a lot of the other people here from school.” You shrugged. “Where do you go to school?”

He answered quickly, “I’m not in school right now.”

“Oh.”

Shit. Now you probably think he’s some kind of degenerate high school dropout.

“I just haven’t registered.” He added immediately after.

You licked the side of your pop to keep it from melting onto your clothes. “Did you move?”

“No, not exactly.” Hiro had realized he’d accidentally opened up a can of worms into his personal life for you.

Intrigued, you pressed him for more details. “What happened?”

“I got accepted somewhere, I just need to register.” Perfect, vague yet descriptive.

Damn. He must go to some kind of private school. Why else would he use the word accepted? You joked, “Damn rich people.”

Hiro nearly laughed. Rich? They were relatively low income and only saved thousands of dollars a year on car payments because he could fix their truck for free. Years ago after one of Cass’s friends paid her daughters 20,000 dollar tuition she told both Hiro and Tadashi that she would not be paying for any tuition. She’d pay for books, parking spots, and the occasional on campus meal. But never tuition. Just her luck Tadashi got his fifty-thousand dollar scholarship plus financial aid and Hiro got a full-ride. If he ever planned on using it.

“We aren’t rich, trust me.” He laughed to himself.

“Private school kids are rich to some degree.” You shrugged. Denying their richness is kind of a rich people thing to do.

His eyebrows contorted with confusion as he looked at you. “I didn’t get into a private school.”

“You said you were accepted.” Now it was your turn to be confused.

“Yeah, accepted to college.” He explained slowly.

You stared at him blankly. There was no way. “College? How old are you?”

“Fifteen.”

“Bullshit.” You shot immediately right after. “I don’t believe you. That’s bullshit. You are bullshit.”

A smile tugged further at Hiro’s lips. “I swear I’m not lying. I got accepted to SFIT.”

“Why are you really here? Is it actually because you’re a pathological liar?” You drilled. Graduating early wasn’t super uncommon but graduating early and getting accepted to a prestigious university like SFIT was insanity. “You’re telling me you graduated at fifteen and got accepted to a top school like SFIT?”

“Well I actually graduated at thirteen.”

“You are such a liar!” You reiterated once again. If he graduated at thirteen that must have meant he was nine when he started high school. No fucking way. “Prove it to me.”

“Well my acceptance letter is at home but sure I’ll show it to you.” He finished up his lemonade pop and licked the remaining ice chunk off the stick.

You scoffed. “And give you time to print a fake one out? No, the second you get home send me a picture of it.”

Just like that you exchanged phone numbers. While typing in each other's numbers Hiro realized this was the first time he’d laughed with someone in weeks and it actually felt really nice. But it was overridden by a feeling of guilt. Why did he feel so guilty? He just laughed with someone he found funny. Why did feeling a small bit of true joy after his brother's death make him feel so obnoxious? Almost like he was rubbing it in someone's face. Or like he was doing it to purposely hurt someone.

It’s weird thinking you know loss but then life gives you the finger and proves you wrong. Hiro lost both his parents, that’s plenty of loss for anyone. But he was only three when it happened so what did he really understand about it? Hiro has always been told he’s smart and rightfully so. With an IQ of roughly 210 it’s a correct assumption to make. But if losing his brother has taught him anything, it’s that he knows nothing about shit that really matters.

Hiro really hated the waves. A brochure on grieving a doctor had given him said that the heaviness of grief episodes will wax and wane. In good there will be bad but in bad there will be good. But it will never be the same. Talking with you actually felt like something that wasn’t soul crushing numbness but a wave of guilt and overthinking immediately followed it.

Nothing would ever be the same.

While Hiro was wrestling with such a random wave of heavy feelings you looked up from typing his number into your phone. “Wait, I just realized I don’t know your name.”

He snapped out of his small daze and looked you dead in the eyes. “Hiro,” He gave you a small smile and held out his hand for you to shake. “My name’s Hiro.”

You gracefully smiled back at him and shook his hand. “Nice to meet you Hiro. I’m y/n.”

[tally-kiza]

hello! I was curious, if sometime in the future you could do a Arthur fleck x gender neutral reader, where the reader just gives arthur all the praise, love and care he deserves? Possible smut, if ur up to it 🤭. I think arthur would absolutely just melt at any type of praise, especially from his lover. I imagine he can’t help but cover his flushed face as he’s showered with kisses and love 😖😖😖 thanks for being an amazing author, luv ur work!

I may have forgotten about this ask until a week ago when I realized Arthur's birthday was coming up. 😂 I figured this would work very well for a little birthday fic. 👀👀

*

Mine And Only Mine

Word Count: 1774

November 21st.

A day you had been looking forward to all month.

Arthur’s special day. The first one that you would be celebrating together.

The heavy weight of a skinny arm slung over your waist beckoned you out of slumber. The fog of sleep lifted, replaced by the warmth of the man nestled against you. Your birthday boy, you thought with a sleepy grin. Your tired eyes cracked open, taking in the vision before you.

Arthur was facing you. His long dark hair was mussed and tangled, curled strands fallen in front of his face, slightly obscuring his handsome features. The midmorning sun rays casted him in warm light. You took a moment to take him in. The gentle curve of his pointed nose; strong cheekbones slowly becoming more full with your every home-cooked meal; prominent collarbones exposed by the open collar of his brown polo shirt, inviting you to kiss and lick. Gentle eyes now closed, minutely fluttering as he dreamed. His face was soft and relaxed. He looked younger, peaceful... almost happy. You wondered what he was dreaming about. His warmth seeped into your heart, making everything feel fuzzy. Arthur’s struggles, his mentality, his everyday stresses and worries, all of them were out of sight and out of mind when he slept, when he was cuddled closely against you. These early mornings were often the happiest you saw Arthur. 

But not today. Your Arthur deserved a birthday free of his usual stresses and anxieties, at least just one day. And you were determined to keep his struggles as far from his mind as you could manage.

You squirmed ever so closer, forehead resting against his. Arthur didn’t even stir. You softened; he must have been exhausted, writing late into last night trying to workshop some new jokes he had thought up. He worked so hard to achieve his brightest dream.

An inkling of an idea blotted in your mind. As softly as you possibly could, you pressed your lips to his forehead over the messy strands of his hair. And then another. And another. A smattering of smooches to his forehead, his hairline, the space between his brows. Arthur made a small noise, soft and cute. Arthur’s eyebrows twitched, but he didn’t quite stir awake. But there were more kisses where those came from.

Slowly you trailed kisses over his face. Gentle presses of your lips to Arthur’s eyelids, down the slope of his nose, over striking cheekbones, and the corners of his thin lips. But never quite on his lips directly; your first true kiss together had to wait until he was awake.

As you kissed, Arthur was slowly roused out of slumber. 

His breathing turned deeper, more regular. He made another soft noise, music to your ears, dimples deepening with a growing grin. You pressed a kiss to the crinkles at the corner of his eyes and smiled in turn. With a slight squint, Arthur’s tired eyes cracked open. They peered at you with mirth. 

“I thought I was just dreaming this up,” Arthur mumbled. His voice was low and creaky with sleep, but playfulness lingered at the edges. It stoked a small flame of warmth in your belly.

“What, this?” you teased, voice just as groggy, pressing another kiss to the scar just above his lip. 

His lips pursed. Still foggy with sleep, his eyes held little of their usual intensity as they locked with yours. “Yes,” he said softly. “And you.”

Your heart turned to putty in your chest. Arthur struck you off-guard so often with sweet words tinged with melancholy. 

“Not this time, handsome.” Eyes slipping closed, you kissed his lips directly. 

It started soft and tender, quiet lips on quiet lips, but Arthur being Arthur, it didn’t remain that way for long. His arm pulled you closer against him; your hand tangled in his messy curls. You molded against him like you were the matching pieces of a puzzle. Fitting together was what you were made for.

It was you who pulled away first. Arthur’s lips sought yours still, but you kept away from his tempting kiss as you both laughed. Your forehead rested against his. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

Green eyes stared into yours, wide with surprise. He sounded so small when he spoke. “You... remembered?”

“Of course,” you said, grabbing one of Arthur’s hands and lacing your fingers together. You pressed another peck to his cheek. “It’s your big day; how could I have forgotten?”

“No one’s ever... remembered my birthday before,” he whispered. The bed shook minutely and you knew he was bouncing his foot. Anxiety creeped at him still; you knew you couldn’t let it linger. “Even I forget some years.”

Your hand cradled Arthur’s face. His eyes were shiny and wet, and his eyebrows twitched with soft emotion as you kissed his forehead. 

“Oh darling, I’m so sorry,” you murmured. “But―” Another kiss, and yet another. “― I think that means we have a lot of birthdays to catch up on celebrating, don’t you?”

He closed his eyes. Voice thick with emotion, he whispered, “That would be nice. ...For years, all I have wanted was someone to share it with. I dreamed about it for so long...”

Arthur sniffled and kissed your wrist still cradling his face. “And now I do.”

Warmth filled your chest. “You do, Arthur. You do. I swear, you’ll always have me.”

After a beat, with a soft breath, he melted into you. The tension in him released; his body sagged against yours. Though his arms kept you pressed close against him. “You’re perfect,” Arthur mumbled. 

“I should be saying that about you,” you said, voice thick with adoration and love. You nuzzled your nose against his, gentle point against gentle point. “Sometimes I can’t believe how lucky I am to have you...”

The lines around Arthur’s eyes crinkled; the shadows of dimples appeared around his shy, boy-like smile. Bashful was a look you always adored seeing on him; your affection only grew. 

You couldn’t keep your lips from brushing his nose. “Someone so endlessly sweet...” 

Then his scar. “With such a tender, gentle heart...” 

―The mole on his right cheek. “And the cutest jokes...”

―The sensitive shell of his ear, along with a soft bite that drew a small moan out of him. You smirked. “Not to mention, with that beautiful body.”

Arthur curled further into you. You could feel the heat radiating from his cheeks. Even after the months you’ve spent together, the intimate nights you’ve spent in bed, devoting yourself to his body, and he to yours, he could be so shy. The result of spending almost thirty-four years alone and craving for affection and attention, you supposed. He was still unused to it, in many ways.

It only spurred more loving. 

You brushed the hair out of his face as you tangled your hands into his greasy curls, fully exposing his beautiful features. Arthur’s broad forehead beckoned.

“I’ve never met someone like you before,” you said, with a smattering of kisses to his forehead.

One broad hand sneaked under your shirt, caressing your back, keeping you ever closer to him. Your skin electrified under his touch.

“You understand me like no one else has,” you sighed. One tender peck to his asymmetrical hairline. A second. Before your lips traveled south, pecking a trail down his nose again to connect with his lips. 

Your connection warmed your cheeks, matching Arthur’s own flush. Both of you smiled into the kiss. Arthur pressed all of his tender love against you. Your shirt was pushed up and his hand traveled up your back; his tongue slipped into your mouth, caressing your own. His lithe hips molded against yours and you swear you could feel the beginning stirrings of his erection. Your own arousal was stoked from embers. Fog clouded your mind, lost in this pleasure, in his love.

It was Arthur who separated first. His forehead thumped softly against yours. His cheek and lips were still flushed, and yours were probably just as bright. Voice thick with emotion, he whispered your name.

In response―”Yes?”

Green eyes were half closed, eyelashes fluttered as he stared downwards, away from your gaze. Shy again, after leaving you warm enough to melt a glacier. His smile grew, twitched, preening as he considered.

“Could you... could you keep going? ...I like hearing you say those things.”

Mirth and soft amusement filled you. “Yeah?” 

“I like it a lot.“ Arthur’s eyes were wet when they stared into yours. “...Please?”

How could you resist your gentle-hearted lover? “Of course I can, darling.”.

But before you could lay an ounce more of affection on him, he spoke, fingers softly wandering on your skin. “Y’know? I don’t think I’ve ever met someone like you either. I know it sounds silly but, my whole life, I’ve thought so much about my perfect person. Someone who would actually see me. Someone who could understand me. Someone kind.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “And you’re kind. So kind. It hurts sometimes.”

“Arthur,” you cooed, eyes pricking with tears.

He murmured your name again. You always adored the way it slipped off his tongue, not in an elegant roll, not like cascading water, but in the whisper of an autumn leaf floating on the breeze. “You’re my perfect person. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Gentle sun rays had slid in the window, lighting up Arthur from behind. His dark hair shimmered in multi-colored strands of copper, chocolate, auburn, chestnut, gold. His face was still cast in shadow, but he seemed to glow regardless. It was as much from his love as it was from the sunlight.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you either,” you soothed, voice thick as honey. “But we’ll never have to. I’m yours, Arthur. And only yours. We’ve only been each others’ for a few months, but I know in my heart, that’s not going to change.”

“Mine...” Arthur whispered, almost too quietly to hear as you returned to laying gentle kiss after gentle kiss on his face, soon followed by more further below. Relief, wistfulness, tenderness, joy, solace all swirled in his voice. His words caressed your heart as gently as any brush of his lips. As the sun rose higher in the sky and the chilly November day warmed, you made good on your promise to make this Arthur’s best birthday yet. To make up for every cold, lonely birthday he’s ever had before. And you would make good on this promise every year on November 21st. For as long as Arthur would have you. 

“...And only mine.”

[local-diavolo-anon]

Hi! if you're still willing to take requests for fnaf, may I please have some Sun (and Moon too if you want) x reader headcanons in which the reader has autism and adhd? thank you!

Yes! I absolutely still take request headcanons! And of course you may!

(i will focus on how the two of them will navigate with you your daily life for this)

Daycare attendant x adhd-autistic reader!

Being a robot trained to care after children of all ages, the daycare attendant is aware of what autism and adhd can mean for a person, and what they might need

Their caretaker role always takes priority over pretty much anything else they are doing, and mosre often than not you're the one who they are caring after

Something they learned early on was how white noise and background sounds helped you relax, especially when it was time to sleep

Both of then would alway be eager to join you in anything you do after all, and this wouldn't be any different, whichever is out will lay next to you and will craddle you close to feel the low whir of their internal vents

Sun is very careful, and maybe a little neurotic as well, this leads him to file long mental lists of things about you, like which textures make your toes curl in disgust and which you'd melt for, this both for when he is to cook for you and when/if he choosing fabric for anything

Be it a new piece of clothing in a store or raw fabric to sew something with

Because of how nervous he ALSO is neither of you lacks in stim toys, whichever you might prefer

He probably has and broke more than you ever owned tho, the grip strength of a 6 and a half feet tall robot is pretty strong

And just like you it is not hard to get overwhelmed for an anxious, neurotic robot, so both of you learned what to do when the over is at their limit

Honestly you and the daycare attendant share a lot more than what you initially believed, at least "function" wise

Something you complete each other however, is in caring for chores, be them housechores or on the job (if you're an employee at the megaplex)

Your short term memory loss and executive disfunction can make taking care of ir/regular chores hard, in a way or another, and sometimes you forget important or big things

Sun's memory however, being digital, is perfect, and his obsession for order pretty much compensate anything you may have forgotten about or accidentally overlooked

He does not mind it, and actually enjoys doing extra things since it helps him calm down, however he will also help you keep a calendar and/or an agenda if it reassures you

Moon is more of a gremlin and will lean on your gremlin side more than sun

If you like to collect things, whichever those may be, he might "borrow" something from the megaplex' lost and found, or things he found on the streets that he think you might like and bring it to you

Even just a cool enough rock can be something he deems worthy of your attention

Something he just puts those trinkets in your pockets and you will end up finding a hanful of stuff next time you put your hands in there

Moon is also the ones that has more time to listen to you infodump about whatever you're interested at the moment, be it a movie, a tv serie, a cartoon or a videogame

this is also because he will use that knowledhe to make obscure references at random that he knows only you can understand

If you take any tipe of meds, Sun is the one that WILL remind you to take them, the idea of you forgetting a medication, whichever that might be, terrifies him

It actually terrifies them both, Moon however is always left a mental note by Sun to tell him the meds have been taken and he doesn't have to stress over it

Another thing they wpuld probably do, is keep track of your eating and drinking schedule, since you may forget to eat or drink for days at the time if not reminded

That's definitely another thing where their caregiver nature kicks in perfecrly, and they'd both make sure you get a good meal, be it by reminding you, cooking with you, or doing it in your place (they want to feel included, they don't like to be alone, neither of them does)

I covered as many topics as i could here, both because as someone with adhd i'd give a kidney to be in their care, and because i really like to wroite these

i hope these are of your liking!

[mj-iza-writer]

Trigger Warning mentions of mental breakdowns that led to rash decisions. Possible suicide ideation. Reader beware.

"Oh, hello Whumpee, you're early", Caretaker looked up from some paperwork, "please come in."

"Is-is that okay Caretaker? I can come back", Whumpee looked down as they leaned on the doorframe.

"No, no, did your nurse or guard accompany you?", Caretaker looked around for them, "we can get started early."

"N-no sir", Whumpee sobbed and wiped their face with their sleeve.

"Hey, hey its okay. Here, come sit down, I can easily text them and let them know you're with me. You just can't leave them though, they're their for your safety", Caretaker quickly stood and walked over to Whumpee.

"Okay there, the text was received", Caretaker looked up at Whumpee, who now sat on the couch.

The phone vibrated, "they said you made them worry when you went missing, but they're glad you went to me. You seemed off after lunch."

Caretaker looked up again at Whumpee, "are you okay? Did something happen around lunch time that affected you?"

Whumpee looked down and nodded.

"Okay", Caretaker stood and pulled a chair closer to Whumpee, "let's start there."

"I feel like an abandoned building Caretaker", Whumpee looked up with new tears started to fall.

"Oh, can you elaborate for me", Caretaker started to take notes.

"During lunch, Nurse Hannah and George started to talk about the abandoned wing of the hospital being abandoned for so long, and it's now unusable. They said the hospital attempted to make use of it for so long, but nothing worked out. They had plans to tear it down and do something else with it", Whumpee was full on crying now.

"Yes the wing is part of the old hospital, and unfortunately has fallen into disrepair", Caretaker looked up from his notes, "how do you mean that you feel like an abandoned building though? Can you explain yourself, I'm interested in what your thought process is."

Whumpee squeezed their eyes tight hoping to squeeze out their tears.

"I once was a part of society, I was employed, I was useful", Whumpee almost seemed to plead as they spoke, "now I have to have a guard watch me, and have almost daily meetings with you so I don't... you know", Whumpee was getting to the point of frustration. "I feel like I'm now sitting empty, no longer of use, more than likely forgotten by those that knew me. There are a few people who still take care of it, that abandoned building, but they may grow tired of it, and come to the decision that it's of no use, it's too broken, and at one point they might walk away too. I'll be there abandoned, until I'm torn down or I fall apart myself. I feel like an abandoned building Caretaker."

Whumpee looked up to see Caretaker's expression. They had a feeling they had said too much, and George would have to watch them like a hawk... again.

"Caretaker I...", Whumpee looked down and wiped their eyes, "I'm sorry to have dumped that out on you, um, can we forget I said half of that at least... please."

"No", Caretaker continued to write, "give me one second while I finish writing, do you need some water? I just stalked the fridge."

Whumpee nodded and went to the fridge, "do you want one?"

"No thankyou, I appreciate that", Caretaker looked up, "do you feel better getting that off your chest?"

"Um a little, I'll see if I feel even better after I know what you'll do to me after this meeting", Whumpee sat back down.

"What do you mean?", Caretaker eyed them.

"George is probably going to have to watch me closer, right?", Whumpee questioned before taking a drink.

"Eh, not really. You can't leave your room like you did today though. That's the only thing", Caretaker looked back at the notes, "let's wait to talk about this until tomorrow, we can talk about some other things today, maybe some good things that happened, maybe that will help you feel better. I want to study these notes so I know what I can do to help you better with these feelings."

Whumpee nodded.

They talked for a while, and then Whumpee yawned.

"How about I get you back to your room? You can take a nap. You can easily tucker yourself out when you cry like that", Caretaker stood.

Whumpee nodded, "you're not mad at me, right?"

"No, of course not. I'm proud of you actually. You knew you didn't feel okay, and you seeked help. Then you opened up about your feelings. I only wish I could tell you the fix-all right now, but I've never heard it put this way before. I hope it's okay that we come back to it tomorrow."

Whumpee smiled tiredly, "yes Caretaker thats fine."

They started down the hall.

"The only thing is you leaving without George or Nurse Hannah. Next time, just let them know you need me or your doctor, and they will take you to us, no questions asked", Caretaker smiled.

"Yes sir, I'm sorry", Whumpee looked down the hall and saw George at the nurses station talking to Nurse Hannah.

Caretaker and Whumpee stopped at the station.

"There's our runaway", George announced, "please don't do that again, I almost ran the entire hospital looking for you."

"Go easy on them. They were having a hard time, and needed to talk to me. I've already told them", Caretaker sighed, "they're a bit tired, so they may take a nap."

"Was it something we said?", Nurse Hannah looked at Whumpee concerned.

"I'll tell you about what happened once Whumpee is comfortable", Caretaker looked at Whumpee, "they had an emotional day, so they are tired now."

Nurse Hannah came around the counter and followed Whumpee into their room, and started to help them into bed.

George watched from the doorway.

"Are you both mad at me?", Whumpee questioned as Hannah covered them up.

"No, we were concerned though", Nurse Hannah booped Whumpee's nose, "we are glad you made it back to your room."

George agreed.

Caretaker came back a bit later and peaked in at Whumpee.

George and Hannah were sitting inside the room, whispering to not wake up Whumpee, who was fast asleep.

"Pssst", Caretaker whispered, and motioned to them.

Caretaker had a nurse step in to watch Whumpee while he talked to George and Hannah.

"So your conversation about the abandoned hospital wing brought out some hard thoughts for Whumpee", Caretaker handed them the notes they had taken while talking to Whumpee, "though I appreciate that Whumpee was able to express this to me, and it will help them in the end, please I beg of you, we need to be careful with our conversations around Whumpee and other patients even."

They both read the notes.

"Oh poor Whumpee", Hannah sighed sadly.

"I didn't realize", George sighed, "I noticed they were different after lunch. Are they okay? Were you able to help them on this?"

"I told them I'd look into this tonight and bring them in tomorrow to talk about this", Caretaker reached for the notes, "I've never heard it put this way before, and I find it very interesting."

"It's too bad you can't take them into the abandoned wing or even find a way for that wing to be repurposed", Hannah thought out loud.

"That may be an idea, what is supposed to be there now?", Caretaker looked at George.

"I think they talked about a garden or something like that", George pulled out a paper and gave it to Caretaker, "yes this was the announcement."

Caretaker looked it over, "I wonder if I can get Whumpee in there, if it's safe enough."

"I can get you in. The guards still go down there for storage and breaks, we hide from staff down there", George chuckled.

"That explains where you guards disappear to", Caretaker sighed.

The next day George led Caretaker and Whumpee to the abandoned wing.

"Whumpee this is the abandoned wing you heard Nurse Hannah and I talk about. Pretty soon, this will be removed, and they'll have a garden built", George led them down the hall, "I read some of what you told Caretaker, just so I know what was going on. I'm sorry we made you upset. Just know though, although this area will be removed because of safety, the hospital has plans to make a new place for us to enjoy. A new garden will be put up right here."

"Really?", Whumpee looked down the halls, "it's sad in here."

"Yes Whumpee, and when it's up we can go out and explore it", Caretaker smiled, "unfortunately sometimes things lose their service. This wing was once used to house many people and help them. Unfortunately, when the hospital expanded, this wing became older and, in turn not usable anymore. The hospital is going to give it a new life so it can help people again in a new way."

Whumpee listened.

"Just like for you, you may not be able to go back to how your life once was, but this hospital is going to give you resources to help you. Whether you get to leave the hospital, or you live here for a while or for the rest of your life. Who knows. With those resources you might be able to do some great things you wouldn't have been able to do before your breakdown. Is this making sense?"

"Yes Caretaker", Whumpee wiped a tear and smiled, "thankyou."

"You're welcome", Caretaker smiled then looked at George, "thanks for bringing us down here, I think it helped me know what to say."

"I'm glad", George grinned, "Whumpee just know I'm on your side, as is Nurse Hannah, we won't abandon you. We are happy to take care of you and our other patients."

Whumpee nodded, and wiped another tear, "thankyou", they sobbed.

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all. @villainsandheroes @the-beasts-have-arrived @sacredwrath @porschethemermaid @monarchthefirst @generic-whumperz @bloodyandfrightened @freefallingup13

Hey MJ here, um this one is one of those stories I wanted to cry while writing because Whumpee is me. I have abandonment issues, and these are real thoughts.

I was once talking to someone, about abandoned buildings. I love abandoned things so much. I can't even explain it. I was talking to someone once though, and they knew I had these issues. Then they asked me, "do you like abandoned things, because you see yourself in them?" To say I was dumbfounded is an understatement.

So I just wanted to be real with you. I am okay mentally just saw and abandoned building being tore down today and it triggered these memories and a story. So I hope you enjoyed, and if you have these issues to, they are hard, but we will make it through. You are loved, I promise. Signed, MJ

[fatuismooches]

smooches you have no idea how much i want to be Pantalone's little househusband i promise im normal you dont get it! your post about a reader who has physical touch as their love language boosted this by like 9999999% i keep rereading the pantalone bit and giggling (also the zandik part broke my heart how could u... </3 /lh /pos)

i wanna cook him dinner when he gets home and offer him a kiss when he returns :(( I want to be surprised when he sees something that reminds him of of me and so he got it !!! I want to massage his shoulders and give him a kiss on the cheek as i do so :(((( I wanna wash his hair with no matter how much product as he uses :(((( I want to use a hair dyer and gently style his hair for him however he wants! I want to cuddle with him as he rambles about his day! I wanna help him get ready in the morning and help him with anything he needs !! i want to make him a cute little breakfast before he goes off to work !! I'd be so sad when he leaves :((( but then i realized he forgot his lunch, so before his break i waltz into his office and bring him his lunch with a kiss on the cheek! I crave domesticity with this man i am feral i am insane I'm running around in circles - 🎈 no one understands my yearning

TEEHEE I'M GLAD YOU LIKED THAT POST!! ❤️ (ALSO I DIDNT MEAN TO BREAK YOUR HEART NOOO IM SENDING ALL MY HUGS 🎈 ANON!!) And omg,,, you're so right ;(( THAT'S SOOOO CUTEE AHHH!! Indulging in all of the sweet little domestic things with Pantalone >>>

Ughh,,,,, him coming home after a super long day and all he wants to do is relax with you in bed, but as usual he comes home to a delicious smell wafting throughout the house and he already knows you're making his favorite ;)) And although he was tempted to skip dinner just to cuddle with you he can't say no to your cooking made with love!! And he certainly can't say no to hoisting you up on the counter and giving you a tonnnn of kisses while the meal finishes cooking! And the gifts? How could you not be ecstatic at his gifts? It's not just the large $ he drops on you as if it's nothing that makes you blush, but how he explains why he got it for you <33 We love a king who thinks of you always !!

Ohhhh he absolutely adores when you take care of him <3 you're such a good darling, going so far as to take care of your husband like this, even though you have your own responsibilities and troubles :( Pantalone loves how intimate and soft you are with him... your hands may not be as skilled as a professional but your rubs really make the stress roll away better than anyone... he's very fussy with his hair but you know all the tricks after being with him for so long :) You'll make sure he doesn't feel an ounce of pain or discomfort and ensure that it's as fluffy as usual! Don't let him fall asleep in the tub though... it's nearly impossible to get him out then. Though he'll totally pamper you the same way, better than royalty! Equal exchange and all! (Also because you're his beloved of course, even if you didn't he would still love you like that)

He loves rambling to you, because you're probably the only person that at least partially understands his rambles but also 100% willing to listen 🥺 Pantalone gets up quite early so he'll try not to wake you... but if you get up anyway to help him his heart would be blown into itty bitty pieces 🥰 He insists on you getting your 8+ hours but he can't deny he loves when his beloved gives him a goodbye kiss and sees him off for the day 🥰 Pantalone gives you a kiss back and reassures you he'll be back before you know it...

You could just send an agent to deliver his forgotten lunch but why would you ever lose out on the chance to see your husband?! Do the regular Fatuis say anything when you walk in with a very cute, delicious, and organized lunchbox for the Harbinger? Nope. Do they know not to disturb the Regrator when you're alone with him in his office? Yes. SO FREAKING CUTE 🎈 ANON AHHHQDWBDJWDND

[the-stress-express]

Attention Hazbin Hotel Fanfiction Enjoyers!!

I have a snack for y’all!!

I’m in the process of writing the first chapter of my new Hazbin fic and I wanted to give you, my Lovelies, a sneak peek of the dialogue. (Although, it looks more like a script at the moment). Eh, whatevs.

——————

It’s going to be mostly centred around Lucifer, Michael, Sera, and Emily (although, other Hazbin characters, both canon and non-canon, will be in it as well).

For example, I will be including God in this fic. And I will say right now that my characterization and representation of God is NOT meant to be taken as religiously accurate or anything like that. You don’t have to like it, but I do ask that you please remain respectful in voicing your opinions.

Anyway…

Once I have most of it (or at least a few chapters) finished, I will be posting it on Archive Of Our Own (Ao3). I may also post it here for those who don’t use Ao3.

But without further ado, you can find my sneak peak under the cut. It’s a bit long but I hope you guys like it.

Enjoy, Lovelies!

START OF PEEK

Sera: Come now, Michael, pick up the pace. We mustn’t be late.

Michael: *Groans and yawns* Sera, where are we going again? Why are we going anywhere so EARLY? Heaven’s not even awake yet.

Sera: *Sighs quietly* I told you five minutes ago, Michael. This is the third time you’ve asked me now. *slighty raises an eyebrow with a frown*

Michael: Oh… right. *Looks down at the ground, looking a bit crestfallen*

*Sera turns back away from Michael as they continue walking, seemingly oblivious to his saddened state.*

Sera: Michael, this behaviour cannot continue. You must improve your listening. As Father’s Angel of Justice, one of His most important angels, someday you will be part of the Heavenly Council, the ones who are responsible for keeping Heaven safe and balanced. So, you need to take your role seriously. You should know that by now.

Michael: *frowns and stops walking, feeling embarrassed* I was listening. I just… kept forgetting. I’m sorry. *tears form in his eyes as he fiddles with his sleeves* I-I do take my role seriously, Sera. I r-really do.

*Sera’s eyes widen as she realizes what she said to him. She had forgotten how sensitive he could be when it came to criticism and how much he often took things to heart. How could she be so blunt? Yes, he would need to learn to take criticism, but was still just a young child.*

*But most of all, how could she forget? She knows what Michael is like. Other than God, she’s been the one mostly raising him.*

*A couple tears begin to trail down Michael’s cheeks as he looks to the ground in shame. A frown washes over Sera’s face as she kneels down in front of Michael.*

*She sure feels guilty now. She made him cry. How dare she.*

Sera: Oh, Michael. Please don’t cry.

*She cups his face in her hands and wipes away his tears with her thumbs.*

Sera: Shh, it’s okay, honey. It’s okay. I’m sorry for getting upset at you. I didn’t mean to be so harsh. I just want you to be prepared to help govern Heaven in the future.

Michael: *sniffles* I know…

Sera: *Sighs* But even so, that is no excuse for accusing you of not listening and being careless on purpose.

Michael: *sighs and sniffles as he looks at the ground* I try act mature like you and the other angels. I try to listen when you all tell me things. I want to listen, but… I’m just too stupid.

Sera: *Gasps quietly* Oh… no, Michael… Michael look at me. Please. *He looks at her* Don’t say or even think anything like that ever again. That train of thought stops this instant. You are not stupid. You are smart, determined, and caring.

*Sera sighs slightly shamefully and closes her eyes*

Sera: You are also quite mature for your age, and I sometimes forget how young you are. That as much as you’ve grown, you are still a young fledgling.

Michael: *eyes widened* You forget things, too?

*Sera opens her eyes again and looks at Michael with a small, reassuring smile.*

Sera: Of course. Angels are some of Father’s greatest creations… but even we are not flawless. As much as we may try to avoid it, we will make mistakes. That’s just how it is. However, what’s important is being able to admit to our mistakes and to do our best to fix them. That is true divinity.

*Sera takes Michael’s hands in hers.*

Sera: So, again, I’m sorry for what I said and for getting upset. It was not your fault and it was not kind or fair of me to be hard on you and make you feel less than. You’re a child. You deserve to be treated with patience and dignity and shouldn’t be expected to behave as if you were an adult.

*A smile quickly spreads across Michael’s face as he finishes drying his face with his sleeve.*

Michael: That’s okay, Sera. I forgive you. *Jumps into Sera’s arms for a hug*

Sera: *smiles* Thank you, Michael.

*Sera hugs him back.*

Michael: Thanks, too. I’ll do my best to make Heaven proud.

Sera: You’re welcome, my little angel. I know you will bring honour to us all.

*More hug I guess lmao*

Michael: I love you, Sera.

Sera: I love you too, Michael. *breaks the hug with a smile and strokes his cheek lovingly before standing up* Now, come along. Father is waiting for us.

*Sera holds out her hand, offering it for Michael to take, which he quickly does. Realization then dawns on his face as his wings flap excitedly a couple times.*

Michael: Oh, yeah, that’s where we’re going. Father wants to show us something, right?

*Sera looks down at Michael with an endearing smile and nods.*

Sera: That’s right.

END OF PEEK

[tia-amorosa]

Sunset Died - Wolff/Sekemoto

Leighton's last journey (longer Part - 1)

The next morning, Thornton woke up quite early because his daughter was hungry. His wife took care of the little one and he went downstairs. But he hadn't expected Yumi to be awake and was a little startled when he saw her standing there. She looked at him with an almost blank expression. “I can't find my toothbrush, did you put it away again, Leighton?”. So there it was, one of those moments where her mind seemed to be far away. But he knew how to react. “Um… No… But I can help you look”..

Thornton helped her find her toothbrush. It was in its usual place. Morgana had explained the consequences of dementia to him in detail. And that she might well mistake other people for her dead son. And that Thornton should deal with it as naturally as possible, however strange it may be at the moment… negative reactions would only upset her too much. But when Yumi looked in the mirror again after a short time, she saw the real person standing there. She paused for a moment, but didn't let it show…

After she had finished, she went into the kitchen. But she stopped just before the fridge, as if she had forgotten what she actually wanted. “Would you like something to eat?"/ ”No, I ate a bowl of cereal earlier. But it was still dark…where are my clothes, I wore different ones yesterday"/ ‘You were asleep, those are your pretty pyjamas’/ ”oh, yes, they're really pretty. Are the clothes on the chair?"/ ‘mhm’. Yumi always put her clothes on a chair for the day. So she went back upstairs.

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

Over breakfast, Thornton talked to his wife about what had happened earlier. “She called me Leighton… It's really hard not to say anything."/ ”I know. But we still have to make her as comfortable as possible. Who knows, maybe her thoughts will be completely different again later.”

“Do you think she'll have a waking moment like that again?"/ ”Maybe, but maybe not. She's living in a completely different world at the moment. If her son were still alive, it would be the same. He once told me that there were probably a lot of cases like this in his family. And if he got this illness, he would have preferred to kill himself before he forgot who's his son "/ ‘uh, that's hard’.

“Yes, Leighton was sometimes a bit harsh in his answers and actions. But he was a good person. If at least Sam's mom was still alive…hh, but he's all alone then. Oh, don't you want more? Okay, then we'll have some pasta and cheese later"/ ‘Leave the plate, I'll clear everything’/ ‘Thanks, Thornton.’. She had to smile a little to herself. Because her husband had developed very positively - in many ways.

After breakfast, Morgana got dressed and then went into Yumi's room. There, the old lady stood in front of the window and stared out. From here, she could watch what was happening around the small makeshift hospital. “Yumi, how are you?"/ ‘It's good weather today… But you don't have to work?’/ ”No, I'm still on vacation for a bit.”.

“Vacation?"/ ”mhm, because of the baby, you know? I need to take some time off to look after the little one. But now Thornton's taking over for a few hours. I'd like to go for a walk with you and Sam. And maybe… Would you like to take Leighton with you?”. Yumi looked over at the urn sitting on the dresser. “Why should I take him with me?”.

Morgana knew that Yumi's head was sometimes mixed up. That's why she spoke to her calmly and gently. “Do you remember our conversation when you told me you wanted to bring your son to a beautiful place? Where the cherry blossoms bloom in spring?"/ ‘hm…oh, yes, but… Our cherry tree is no longer there’/ ‘But I know where there's still one around here’.

Yumi turned to the urn where she kept her son's ashes. She found him under the rubble of her collapsed house after the disaster. And even though she sometimes has these empty moments in her head, she could still remember to all very well. “h-hh, that's still my wish, yes"/ ‘then let me show it to you, all right?’.

While Yumi was still looking at the urn, a tear ran down her almost expressionless face, which she realized almost too late and quickly wiped it away. And then Morgana realized that the thick fog in Yumi's head was slowly clearing again “oh dear, I'm sorry…we're going to the cemetery, aren't we? I never wanted to see us both there, we can't go back to our old home either."/ ”That's true. But I'm sure he and you will like it. “/“I hope so…all right, I'll come.”.

While Morgana and Yumi get ready for the trip, Thornton stares at his smartphone with a slight smile. Because he knows that in a few hours, it will be possible to get in touch with the outside world again. A little bit of normality has returned.

After it took a little longer, the two of them came downstairs. Morgana took Sam in her arms, while Yumi, with a rucksack in which she had stowed the urn, was already heading for the door with her own thoughts. Thornton gave his wife a questioning look. But she just smiled. “I've just given the little one another drink, she should sleep for a while now”/ “well then…see you later then”. Morgana was determined to leave early in the day. Because she figured that everything would surely take a little longer - especially the walk.

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

End of this Part

@greenplumbboblover 😊

Note: I had a really hard time finding a suitable second title today… I hope this one still fits somewhat.

[ohheyjudesummers]

Forever mine 2 - Nanami Kento headcanons

Forever Mine Part 2

Part 1 here

Notable tags (full tag list at the end): Fem domm (In the making), dubcon, Black!fem reader, unprotected(be safe in real life pls), Masochistic Nanami, hint of sub nanami if you squint hard enough.

✧❁❁✧✿✿✧❁❁✧

Where did we leave off? Oh, yes, Nanami served you quite well in your office the other night. Even though time has passed since then, you continue to be drawn to him. And gradually get used to using his services.

Two days later, at the backyard pool, was the first occurrence since that evening. Up until this moment, he remained professional especially when the two of you were in front of others. He still got up early, still performed his duties, and still was generally efficient. It was almost to the point where you thought you may have imagined the whole instance that evening.

But then, it happened again.

You were unwinding and taking a much-needed break on your lonesome, when Nanami found you lounging by the pool. Even though inside you felt your body temperature rise at his close proximity, you still kept it professional.

It wasn’t strange for him to find you, really. He's your personal attendant, remember? it’s almost natural for him to be at your side-Even after what transpired between you guys. You could keep it cool. At least you thought you could. 

That is until Nanami offered to rub your back.

"Go ahead," you say, your cheek resting against your crossed arms.

It wouldn’t look too strange, would it? The way your pool was angled from your house, even if someone peered out the windows, they couldn’t see the two of you. and yet, even with knowing this, you still felt a rush of heat course through you feeling Nanami's strong hands touch you. 

Especially when his hands begin to run beneath your ass—his long fingers glide along the clef slowly and even slide over to graze your inner thigh. 

“Kento, ”  Your eyes snap open, just as you breathe his name.

In that moment, his warm brown eyes drag from your backside to lock onto yours.

“Yes, Mistress? Do you need me to do anything?"

As he asks this, his hand hasn't left the underside of your ass. He keeps rubbing gently back and forth, occasionally dipping his hand between the thickness of your brown inner thighs. Each time he rubs your inner region, hes merely inches from the lips of your pussy-not directly. And yet, his indirect touch has the exact effect you experienced a couple of days ago—you're wet. 

“W-we're outside-” You try to reason. But Nanami cuts you short.

“You issued a half day of work today; have you forgotten? The employees have left by now, Mistress-I saw to it. You don't have to worry about that."

Something akin to a bolt jolts between your legs at this fact. It was as if your body were encouraging you to allow him to give you what you craved. But God, you felt hesitant. 

“Mistress, May I ask something?”

“Yes,” you nod. “Go ahead.”

“What makes you resist? I feel like it's something much deeper than modesty.”

“It's not r-right” you admit without resistance. "I know what you told me about my being taught to use my servants as I see fit, but I don't want to take advantage. It's not kind- o-oh!"

Nanami chuckles lightly at your reaction to him brushing his index finger against your pussy. Even with touching it through the fabric of your bikini, it had such an impact. 

“Did it ever occur to you that maybe I don't want you to be kind to me when we're like this?”

“Why?” you snap. “Why would you want something like that?”

“You really don't know?” He asks rhetorically, a wide smile forming across his face. It was almost sinister. “Has it never occurred to you that you may have a masochist for a personal attendant?”

In that moment, something shifted in the air. Nanami had been sitting on a low chair next to the lounge chair you were lying on. He scoots Just a bit closer to you, he extended his other hand to your hip, where the string of your bikini is. 

He fondles the string, gently tugging at it but not enough to make it come undone. 

“If it bothers you, then perhaps I should stop-” 

“Shut up. ” Your tone is clipped and sharp. sharp to the point where even Nanami is shocked and clamping his mouth shut in mild shock. At both your tone and the harsh glare you're aiming at him,

“You want to be used? Fine. Undo your slacks. Take out your dick and stroke it in front of me. But I want your fingers in me; I want you to touch yourself fingering my pussy, and don't you dare stop until I say, do you understand?”

Nanami only falters for a moment before replying, “Yes, mistress.” before complying. 

He does as you tell him, unbuckling his slacks before pulling down the zipper. You watch as he pulls his dick free. 

It's an angry shade of dark pink, the head just a hue darker. 

He braces one hand on his length and uses the other to pull at the string of your bikini.

While only one side comes undone, that's enough to loosen your bottoms and give him enough room to slide his slender fingers through the crotch of your panties. 

Even as you relax while laying on your belly, your eyes don't leave the sight of Nanami stroking his dick at a slow and steady pace that matches the speed of his finger plunging through your pussy. 

Usually, you don't care for being fingered; it never did anything for you—your focal point was always on the sensitive part of your clit. sensitive part this time, you found yourself getting slicker by the second that Nanami fucked you with his fingers. 

Your legs spread wider on the lounge chair at the growing intensity of Nanami's sensations. When he takes his finger out to rub slow circles around your tender clit-you can't help but buck your hips to the point where you curl your knees to brace in a kneeling position. Your lower half now inclined while you rest your lower self against the cushion of the wide lounge chair, you feel more encouraged to fuck yourself against Nanami—only you know his finger isn't enough.  even though you had your eyes shut fiercely as  you panted heavily into the air. 

“More; give me more of you, Nanami," you order him.

Again, for a moment, you sense a pause in him, “Are you sure you want me to do that, mistress?”

“Yes!” You bite out, frustrated, with your eyes still clenched tight. “Did i stutter? I want you to make me come on you, now. d-do it. It aches so badly.”

“I see. I won't deny you what you crave."

It happens quickly, his fingers suddenly slip from you, forcing you to open your eyes. You're just about ready to unload a slew of colorful words at Nanami, but then you're suddenly taken back by the sound of the loud scraping of his chair being pushed back along the pavement.

And the back of the lounge chair dips; you feel a hand brace itself on your hip, pulling you back. 

“Whatever my mistress needs.” is the last thing you hear before taking a sharp breath and feeling Nanami slide through your wet folds.

“Oh-h!.” you gasp, gripping the fabric of the lounge chair beneath you.  You weren't a virgin, but God, feeling the intrusion of him plunging through your pussy, you felt so... blissfully full. In all the right ways. 

“I-I didn't tell you to do that, did I?” you say after you catch your breath. Bracing your upper half upward with your hands beneath you, you look over your shoulder at him. Your stare was intense, as was Nanami's surprisingly perplexed expression. “Answer me when I'm speaking to you, Kento. Did I tell you to put your dick inside of my pussy?”

You don't miss the way he twitches against you at your tone—not by a long shot. 

Oh, hes definitely a masochist.  and maybe even a little brat who likes to push the limits of their master, or in this case, their mistress. The realization added to the heat coursing throughout your body. 

This man was dedicated to assisting you in tapping into the mistress, the powerful woman he knew you could be...

by pushing your buttons. 

“I apologize, mistress.”

“No, Kento.” You shake your head. "You're actually not sorry—not yet." 

©JUDESUMMERS. Please do not copy, Translate, Plagiarize, or repost (sharing via link is excluded). This story is only uploaded on Tumblr, Wattpad and AO3. Anywhere else under any other name besides JUDESUMMERS is prohibited

author note: As always, Thanks so much for reading! I plan to write something on Shoto Todoroki soon but I'm still formulating what I want to happen with that- so be on the look out <3 it will of course have a Black original character. for visuals on it, just look for it on my tumblr when I originally post it on here. in the mean time I'll get back to my original story, but I'm not going to lie I've been eyeballing Leon Scott Kennedy from resident evil remake since I beat it earlier last week. Something might be in store for him if I have the time in the later future.

[goldenretriever-nicknelson]

Story of Us [P.P]

A/n: I don't know how I wrote this but I actually managed to before I went back to Uni and I'm so proud of myself! This is very angsty and lets just say I'm sorry. Yes it's based off of one of my favourite Taylor Swift songs.

Peter and reader are older but nwh didn't happen.

Pairing: MCU!Peter Parker x Stark!reader

WC: 2.2k

Warnings: angst, lots of angst, mentions of grief, implied mental health issues, (brief) detail and mention of SA (drunk guy tries to hook up with reader who doesn’t want to), breakup, some violence (punching), implied sexual themes, underage drinking - if there's anything I've forgotten let me know!

“You and Peter are so lucky.”

“Imagine finding your soulmate so early on.” 

“You two will have beautiful kids.” 

The words that others had spoken about you over the past year echoed in your ear. Compliments about you and Peter being the best couple, that you were going to save the universe together one day. Yet here you were alone, travelling to the annual Avengers New Years party. 

And it was all your fault. 

You had almost chickened out of going at all, wanting to spend another day in your sweatpants eating through leftover Christmas food. The Avengers and Peter’s aunt May hadn’t wanted you to spend Christmas alone so they had invited you over, sent food and facetimed you trying to encourage you to participate in the holiday spirit. Usually Peter was enough to bring you joy even when you were just friends but even he wasn’t there anymore. 

How could you enjoy any festivities without the one man who had been there through everything, supported you and protected you? Tony was gone and now Peter was too. You were fed up with losing everyone so you’d stayed well out of everyone’s way. If you weren’t close to anyone, you couldn’t lose them. 

May had scheduled sessions for you with a therapist in the New Year, the same one she had seen after the blip and after her husband had passed. She had offered to drive you herself too. Most people might find it awkward to stay in contact with your ex’s family but May had always treated you like her own especially after Tony died and you had always been grateful to her as she had been to you for looking after Peter. 

The driver of your taxi announced you had arrived and you were pulled out of your trance, your eyes drawn to the Avengers compound that was decorated in bright lights and Christmas decorations. At least they had still continued with tradition. 

You took a deep breath as you exited the car, ironing down your dress once more with your hands and putting a smile on your face, however fake it may be. The music was playing loudly as you came closer to the building joined with the chorus of laughter and cheer. 

Your heart sank as you spotted the statute of Tony and Natasha they had built. Engraved below read “The real heroes, forever remembered”. You fought back your tears and shook your head, walking in and putting your smile back on. 

All you had to do was stay until midnight and then you could make a swift exit. That had been the plan anyway and then you had seen him. 

Peter Parker. Your ex boyfriend and love of your life, laughing away with Sam and Bucky and smiling wide. His brown curls looked messy as if his hair had been ruffled several times and no doubt by the duo that was standing in front of him. He was wearing his usual party shirt, the same one you had drunkenly cried on many times and the one he had kissed you in when the clock struck midnight this time last year. 

The room was crowded and yet his eyes still managed to find yours across the sea of drunken people. His smile fell ever so slightly but there was a kindness in his eyes as he looked at you and you could tell he was as nervous as you. 

You quickly looked away and went to the kitchen to make yourself a drink. Even though you were underage, no thanks to the blip, a little alcohol wouldn’t hurt. Dutch courage, as your Dad would say. 

The first shot of alcohol had just gone down when someone was pulling the empty shot glass away from you. “Hey! Hey!” 

You sighed and turned around to see no one other than Doctor Strange himself chastising you for underage drinking. 

“This is reserved for the adults.” Strange sighed and vanished the bottle of alcohol through a portal to another room. 

“Do you ever stop being a killjoy?” You crossed your arms and glared at him in true Stark fashion, noticing Peter walking over from the corner of your eye and getting nervous again. 

“With you and Peter drinking underage, I might just celebrate the new year in another universe. Less stressful when you’re made of paint.” Strange gave an amused smile at his own joke and started to walk away, leaving Peter headed straight for you. 

Your heart picked up its pace, threatening to explode as Peter’s eyes met yours. His honey brown eyes almost drew you in but you couldn’t give in. You quickly pretended that someone else had caught your attention and darted out of the kitchen, heading for your old room. 

“Hey pretty girl.” 

A stranger, a little bit older than you, stopped you in your path and grabbed your arm. He was tall with dark hair, eyes the same colour as Peter’s but nowhere near as intoxicating or warm. You recognised him from when he would sometimes work with the Avengers. His jacket had the classic SHIELD logo and you scoffed. 

“Either you’re in fancy dress or you’re really bad at being a covert agent.” You pushed him off of you and laughed but the agent guy wasn’t having any of it. He cornered you near the bathroom and placed his hand on the wall by the side of your face, trapping you as he inched closer. You smelt alcohol on his breath and the way he was looking at you sickened you to your stomach. 

“The famous Y/n Stark, complete with the wit to match the name.” He smirked and went to touch your face but you moved your head away, ready to put your fighting skills to the test. Natasha had taught you some things during your initial training to become an Avenger before the world went to shit and half the population disappeared. 

“Yeah well I better get back-” You tried to push past him but he kept you trapped, cutting you off from speaking. You froze as his free hand wrapped around your waist, trying to pull you into him. You knew you should have fought back but you couldn’t. 

You told him to stop, pushing him away and threatening him but nothing seemed to deter him. That was until someone ran and tackled him to the floor, punching him with fast reflexes and super strength. You recognised that head of curls from anywhere. 

Peter got up after making sure the other guy wasn’t getting up anytime soon and quickly came over to you. A worried expression on his face as he reached out to held you before hesitating and withdrawing back. 

“A-are you okay?” 

You nodded and took a deep breath, noticing that some of the partygoers had now noticed what was going on. Sam and Bucky made sure the guy was thrown out and reported whilst insisting you go with Peter to get a drink and sit down. 

Peter made you a hot cocoa and sat down with you in a room on the other end of the compound, wrapping a blanket around you which you soon realised looked familiar. On the wall were Star Wars and Sci-Fi posters along with some selfies taken by Peter. This was his old room when he had first joined the Avengers. Tony kept it for him even when he declined his offer so that Peter would always have a place to stay if he needed it. 

You didn’t even notice you were crying until Peter handed you a tissue and rested a hand on your arm. You appreciated the gesture and wiped your eyes, not even caring if it smeared your makeup. You knew what Peter must have been thinking and honestly it was still what you were questioning yourself. 

“I couldn’t fight back.”

Peter looked at you and raised a brow but he didn’t say anything he just listened. You told him what had happened and how terrified you had been. You felt like you had let Tony down, he always told you to fight back and you couldn’t even do that when you needed to. 

“Hey. You didn’t let anyone down. It’s okay to be scared.” Peter tried to reassure you, taking your hand into his and squeezing. A technique he had learnt over time that made you feel safe and calm. 

You sighed and swallowed the lump that had formed in your throat. The moment you had been dreading since you had arrived had dawned on you without any warning. You were unprepared and scared again but you knew Peter, he would never hurt you. 

Silence filled the room, the only sound was the music from the party and the laughter from people who were having fun. You sighed and looked down at your hands, remembering that cold September night when everything finally caught up to you, the loss and the heartbreak,  and Peter had been the one to suffer. 

“I’m sorry.” 

The words that had been on your tongue for so long, threatening to spill every time you saw him or May and yet never being able to speak them into existence. It was only two words but the meaning held so much more. 

Peter didn’t reply for a moment and instead wrapped his arms around you, just holding you as you let yourself cry onto his shoulder. He rubbed your back and played with your hair, humming the song you and him shared a love for. You could smell his cologne and feel the softness of his shirt, noticing that he had a cut by his shoulder that he had evidently tried to heal himself. It was almost as if nothing had changed. 

“I’m sorry too.” 

His words caused you to look up at him in surprise, your heart once again racing as you met his gaze. His eyes were watering and he looked sad, more broken than you had ever seen him. 

“I shouldn’t have let go. I should have held onto you and helped you even when you pushed me away but I-I couldn’t do it. I was hurting too.” Peter’s words were full of pain and sorrow, your heart breaking as you heard them. You had spent so much time wrapped up in your own pain and pity that you hadn’t even seen Peter’s. 

You realised you didn’t have to go through it alone after all and that Peter was just as afraid of losing you as you were of losing him. 

Your lips met Peter’s before he could ramble anymore, the small bit of dutch courage you had that pushed you to make an impulsive decision. His lips tasted just as you remembered them, sweet and like home but with a tint of alcohol mixed onto them. 

Peter hummed in surprise, his eyes widening before kissing you back. Both of you settled into a familiar rhythm of lips moving against each other as the rest of the world faded away. You were reminded of the times you had spent sneaking in here as a teenager after Peter had come back from a mission and healing him with your touch. You had thought you had been smart but your Dad had always known even the things you didn’t want him to know, thanks to Peter being loud in the bedroom. 

“Y/n,” Peter pulled back and cupped your face in his hands, worry still evident on his face. “You just went through an ordeal, we don’t have to-” 

“Peter.” You smiled kindly at him, the first real smile you had felt in a while as you held him close and nuzzled your nose against his. “I want to because I love you and I wasted all this time trying to push you away when all I needed was to have you here, with me.” 

The smile that lit up Peter’s face was enough to make your heart race from pure joy as he held you close and kissed you one more time. In the background the sound of a countdown had begun, counting down the seconds till the new year would begin. 

“I love you too by the way.” Peter interrupted, his cheeks burning scarlet as you kissed over his face and neck. You giggled and shook your head at how dorky Peter could be. 

“I never stopped.” Your eyes met his again as he spoke and the sincerity in his gaze made you pause. You had never met anybody quite like Peter and you were sure you never would. 

“10, 9, 8, 7, 6!” 

“Neither did I.” 

Both of you smiled as you cuddled close, enjoying every moment that you had and determined not to waste another. You remembered fondly all the times that the Avengers team and your friends had tried to set you and Peter up, placing you together on missions and being the only two left when the study group or team briefing got cancelled. 

“5, 4, 3, 2, 1!” 

“Happy new year!” You chimed in with the rest of the party but only as a shared whisper between you and Peter. He returned the sentiment with a new years kiss just like the year before but this time there was more love and passion behind it, behind the closed doors of Peter’s old room. 

The polaroid picture that May had snapped of you both asleep in each other's arms that night soon took pride and place in Peter’s room. That was until you moved in together and had a whole canvas filled with photos of the both of you including your wedding photos.

Taglist (join here): @farfrombarnes @marvel-lock @parkerpeter24

Moots: @the-girl-in-the-chair @glowunderthemoon @spideyspeaches @seolaseoul

[passthroughtime]

Was Sawa-sensei really the only argument Yagami had? The answer may shock you

So, few people know that I fucking despise this take. It's been fun and still can be fun to me sometimes, but as time goes, I see more and more people thinking that unironically and even hate Yagami for this, among other things.

(Huge spoilers for both games ahead. Obviously.)

And I do a lot of (over)thinking myself, as I am writing a looong fic (first three chapters already live on ao3, sorry for shameless promo), and I always love to delve into characters' motives in canon events, goes with writing exclusively canon compliant things of course, and adding to my ever existing brainworms. Moreover, I'm revisiting Judgment atm for the first time since early 2020 if I'm being correct? And I see a lot of things I've forgotten which give lots what has happened in Lost Judgment pretty damn much sense. The Sawa argument is among these things.

First things first, what was the takeaway of the first game for Yagami? His trauma at first was that he fucked up bad and felt he had lost some crucial evidence that Okubo was actually the killer, but during the events of the game it transforms into "I haven't done anything to get to the truth". His trauma, as well Kuwana's, has its core in their inaction during the critical events of their lives. They were never the same again because they didn't do anything while they could, and yes, in that regard they are wounded in the same way.

How have they both responded? In a similar way. Yagami swore to always get involved there he can do something to change the situation before it escalates. Kuwana does the opposite, he tries to punish for the mistakes already made. (Which is funny considering that Yagami as a lawyer dealt with consequences while Kuwana as a teacher had the power to navigate people's lives to prevent the same mistakes, but it's the whole other theme in itself, and has little to do with the initial one.) Let's focus on Yagami though.

The only reason why Yagami repeatedly gets involved on his own in the Lost Judgment plot time and time again, though literally nobody asked him to do so, is the lesson which he learns in the first game. He says explicitly that he wants to get to the bottom of things, and not forget about cases when a trial is done. That's the reason why he doesn't want to be a lawyer again and why he can never be one again, not full-time at least.

And then Sawa gets murdered. Yagami draws parallel to Terasawa Emi (because of course he does) and is determined to bring everyone who is responsible for her death to the light. For now, it's Soma, the direct murderer, and Kuwana, which made Sawa the connecting thread between his crimes. Yagami realizes that Sawa's death was a tool for everyone to get what they wanted, like Emi's. He references it here:

At this point, Yagami has no proof to think otherwise. He thinks that everyone has forgot about Sawa and that she shouldn't have died. The very least Yagami could do, is to make sure everyone will answer for what they did to her. He sees that Kuwana feels guilty and quite shitty that the student which he thinks so highly of was murdered. Kuwana feels responsible, and Yagami knows that someday he will break.

I think it's also important to say that at no point of LJ has Yagami says anything remotely identifying the goal of his words and actions as "murder bad", but that's more obvious than anything else though requires explanation too if I'm to be believed that Yagami isn't after justice for all the murders.

This whole scene is the Sawa argument summarized, but if you look closer, it is really the only beef he has against Kuwana.

BTW he's not as goody two shoes as you prefer to see him in LJ, if his "I get how you feel" doesn't convince you.

And then the one person Kuwana is determined to do anything for has betrayed him, right before Yagami's eyes. What does Kuwana do? Abandon Yagami when Soma has said to his lackeys to do anything so he wouldn't escape, even murder him perhaps?

Great question, Yagami. This really does contradict everything he has thought of Kuwana since forever. After, instead of a goodbye Kuwana makes sure Soma couldn't stay on the boat longer and kidnap/kill Yagami. RK had no time for that, fleeing was the priority over someone they can find some time after.

First thing Yagami does is visit Kusumoto at the hospital, where he learns she has no regard to Kuwana's life, as long as her son is safe and her crime stays uncovered. Which is fine, I guess, though it's sad because Kuwana would do anything for her and for Mitsuru, but whatever. Ehara doesn't come around too, which also understandable, though Kuwana has risked his life to give Yagami the crucial evidence, he is nothing to him and has already played his part. He is just a tool in his revenge. Wait... What?

Yes, actually it's Kuwana who is being brushed off as collateral damage by everyone. Everyone he has helped actually. And he hasn't come clean during the time before Ehara's trial (he at least could leak the information or point to the body without endangering himself, idk) nor he disappeared to save his skin.

After the trial he thanks Yagami for helping Ehara (which Kuwana wasn't able to do himself) and points to his, and Kawai's body, location. Kuwana knows damn well he can die, but getting to the one who murdered Sawa is more important to him. So, Kuwana has no one on his side, even himself.

No one is going to save him. Sure, he isn't as innocent as Emi, he has fucked some shit up. Does he deserve to disappear for good and be forgotten, or even worse, be remembered as a psycho teacher who killed his student? Yagami doesn't think so. All Yagami sees is that Kuwana desperately tries to protect everyone who did everything right or did nothing at all, every victim of bullying. He has no other motive.

Yagami takes no shit from Kuwana, he isn't afraid or angry when Kuwana threatens to blow up the warehouse (as Sugiura and Higashi for example). He knows that Kuwana isn't capable of killing anyone who doesn't deserve it, he takes no pleasure in murder and doesn't do it for personal gain. Yagami, Kaito, everyone else aren't guilty of anything which deserves death as punishment.

If not for the gang, he would set off the bomb though, I'm 100% sure. But that's besides the point.

So, returning to the question: Was Sawa-sensei really the only argument Yagami had? An answer is yes. Because he really doesn't fucking care bullies are being murdered, slay worstie. But it's not because he's such a crappy lawyer, but because he realizes the importance of a person's life above everything else. And a person who cares is not necessarily stupid or unprofessional.

You can argue all you want who was right and who was wrong. It doesn't matter for the characters.

It was never about justice. They don't argue from a legal point of view. It was about remembering about the importance of a person's life.

I beg you to look at this story from another perspective. Not as a technical coldly-perfect story it should've been. People are imperfect, and Yagami, first and foremost, a person. A person who cares. And JE with LJ as stories can be imperfect... but also realistic.

Terasawa Emi is murdered for the greater good. Sawa is murdered for selfish reasons. Kuwana is almost murdered for the both. I can't imagine Yagami would want to go through lots of red tape to do something someday. He does this something right now. Because the lives of people, living and breathing, should be protected right now and valued above what's right legally.

Please, stop looking at fiction as something which should be perfect, or make more sense, be more logical and emotionally detached than the real world. Some can be like that, but Judgment hasn't been from the start.

[fiapartridge]

will + daisy thoughts ༊*·˚

Since Daisy is a year younger than Will and Gabe, and is the youngest among her siblings, I feel like she felt super alone once Will and Gabe left to play for BC. Like she felt like everyone was abandoning her, and the feeling was mellow at first, like she could handle it on her own; it was just something that was plaguing her mind, but when she saw videos of Will at a party after having forgotten their daily FaceTime, she just goes down a really bad spiral. She feels left behind and her parents are too interested in everyone else's (her siblings) hockey careers to even focus on her. So she trains really hard for ballet, leaving home early in the morning and coming back just in time for dinner. She starts ignoring her family's and Will's calls, feeling like a burden to everyone else until Will goes back to Michigan on a non-game day. He goes to her house and she isn't there, her parents don't even know where she is, and he finds her at the dance studio alone. When she sees him, she thinks she's hallucinating. "Will?" He smiles at her and she rushes into his arms. She tells him why she's been ignoring his and everyone else's calls and barely responding to texts, and he reassures her that she's not a burden; that he's always thinking about her because he loves her. "You're a hard person not to think about."

Daisy and Will definitely did the love language quiz one day while in his dorm at BC and Daisy's highest 2 love languages were quality time and words of affirmation. Like she needs to be with someone at all times or else her life just feels like a nightmare (exhibit A: the first thought LOL ^), and she loves hearing Will whisper sweet nothings in her ear when they're in public or even when they're just hanging out together, she loves when he randomly calls her beautiful after staring at her for a long time. Will's highest 2 love languages were physical touch and acts of service. Since they had to hide their relationship for a while, he liked to brush her hand in public, or have his hand on the small of her back, just something to keep her close by and connected while still having to look like they're nothing to each other. It's like a reminder to each other that they're there even though it may not look like it. He also loves kisses and when she sits on his lap instead of the open space beside him. He also loves giving her gifts. Like on the randomest of days, he'll just buy her flowers or tell her to get dresses so he can take her out to a fancy dinner. Like yes, he goes all out on anniversaries, birthdays, and holidays, but it feels extra special when it's just a normal day and there's nothing to celebrate.

When Daisy gets to BC her freshman year, she already feels at home since everyone she loves is already there: her boyfriend, her brother, some of the USNTDP boys. The boys become her best friends, and when Will can't go to a party with her or if she wants to go just with her girl friends, Will will always text the team group chat and be like "Dais is going to a party, keep her safe please." Because he knows at least one of those boys are going to the same exact party.

After the draft, Daisy gets particularly close with Adam Fantilli, Connor Bedard, and Leo Carlsson. Daisy came with Will on his trip to Las Vegas the time they went to see the Golden Knights play during the Stanley Cup. She thought Adam was super kind and mature (and didn't believe him when he said he was 18), Connor was funny, cracking his little quips here and there, and Leo was hilarious. There was never a time when Leo wasn't making a joke. They bonded over their music interests having that Leo was the only one that didn't only listen to country music 24/7. She took shots with them at the afterparty, promising to keep in touch once the night was over. She still talks to Connor sometimes, commenting on his post or sending him a funny TikTok from time to time, and she's always texting Leo about a new Drake album that just got released or joking about something random that just popped into one of their heads. And being Gabe's little sister, sometimes she accompanies him to the Hughes' lake house during the offseason. While Gabe and the rest of the boys train together, Daisy hangs out with Ellen (who feels like the mother she never really had with her own). There, she sees Adam, reuniting after the draft and rubbing it in Connor and Leo's faces that she gets to hang out with him and not them. Their little friend group is so cute. And Will always wonders why Daisy's in the group chat, but not him and Daisy's always like 🤷‍♀️

[rorykeanersactualgf]

hey look i know you already wrote the request of the reader being sick with the flu/fever for me but can you go back and change the gender of the reader to female cause that's what i originally wanted it to be in the first place

A/N: why yes of course i can make it into female reader xx i quite like this idea because he is such a cutie patootie that he would love to take care of us. i hope it was okay that i did a pov switch and the pronouns were g/n. other than that, i hope you enjoy the fic my lovelies xx :))

CW: Benny being an absolute sweetheart, mentions of throwing up but it doesn't happen only gagging does, kisses and thats about it i think xx (Fem!Reader version xx)

Sick remedies

On a dreary Tuesday morning, in the early hours of the day, I was awoken to a searing headache, a hot sensation rolling over my body, my joints aching every time I tried to move, a blocked nose, a sore and dry cough, and to top it off, it made my eyes water and burn so I couldn't see anything. I stood up and almost instantly regretted it, I felt dizzy and so close to being sick but I managed to keep it down. I decided to write my parent/s a note saying how I felt and hoping that they saw it. As I tried to go back to sleep, my head started to pound more than before and all I wanted was sleep at that moment so I quietly crept downstairs and grabbed some water and Tylenol, chugging it and sneak back upstairs to bed.

Benny's POV:

As I woke from my peaceful sleep, I turned over to my phone to talk to my baby (Reader), now usually she would message me first but when I saw my phone had no good morning text, I was a little bit confused but shook it off quickly seeing as she may have slept in or forgotten.

My day had gotten stranger when I was waiting outside of her house, like I usually do but they didn't some out, maybe she slept in or left without me. Weird, its not like her to leave without me, and we've never had an argument before so maybe she was already at school. I had even tried knocking the door but no one answered, oh well, I'll see her soon.

As I continued to mull over what could have happened on the way to school, I hadn't noticed that I had basically blanked my friends and already made it to school by walking on my own. I realised that I should probably try to find and talk to her when I was in school, that was if she were even here. As I walked into the courtyard I saw my friends and walked over to talk to them.

A plethora of different greetings flushed my ears that made the talking and laughing in the courtyard less noticeable and helped me take my mind off of this morning a little bit. That was until I didn't see (Reader) with any of them and asked if any of them had seen her.

They all had a range of answers, ranging from "Oh, I thought she was with you," and " Nope," 's and wondered where she could be. Hopefully she was just late.

As the day went on and lessons progressed, I gathered the notes for her classes and made sure that the assignments were at least noted of so she wouldn't be completely lost on what to do and when it was supposed to be in by.

At the end of the day, when there was still no sign of (Reader) via in-person or text message, I went over to her house just to make sure she was okay and at least had the stuff they needed. I walked up her porch steps, knocked on the door and waited for someone to answer. When someone did answer, it was her mom, and with a smile on both of our faces, she let me in.

"Are you here to see (Reader)? She is pretty sick at the moment so I'd be careful going near her but if you want to see her go ahead." She said with a genuine smile on her face and two taps to my shoulder and she walked into the living room again. After hearing that (Reader) was just sick and not annoyed with me or in any serious danger, my heart swam with relief. I walked up the stairs to her room and knocked, just in case she was getting changed or just wanted some privacy.

At no answer from (Reader), I knocked again in case she didn't hear me and when I didn't get an answer again, I decided to walk in. When I walked into her room, it was dark, a small pile of tissues was near her on their bedside table, a small and now probably lukewarm glass of water was next to her on the table, and a small lump of a person was on the bed, under the blankets and lightly snoring.

As I saw (Reader) sleep for a little bit, I started to think of any remedies that I could use to help them. I quickly got up and went to the store, grabbing a few things and making my way back to her house.

When I got back to her house, I thought that I should at least let her know I was here and that I was going to take care of her so when I got back up to their room, I gently nudged and shook her awake. At first, it didn't seem like she was going to wake up until I got gently shoved off saying "5 more minutes mom" and rolling back over. This made me chuckle a bit because she was being cute and she didn't know it was me. I sat with her on the bed and said,

"Hey, it's me, Benny, I came to take care of you," which made her slowly but surely roll over onto her back and pull the blanket down so I could see her adorable face and smile at her,

"Oh, hey Bens," she said, her voice croaky and hoarse, which made her cough painfully and look at me with sad, almost watery eyes.

"I'm not very well if you couldn't tell already. How was school today? Did I miss anything important or interesting?" She said with a sniffle or two falling from her.

I had caught them up on my day given her the notes she needed so she didn't miss anything.

My POV:

As benny was telling me about his day, it had slowly begun to dawn on me how confused and possibly upset he must have been that I wasn't in and that I hadn't given him his usual fix of attention and affection like I usually would have.

I felt bad so I picked up my phone when he had finished to message him good morning even though he was right in front of me. The plan was to cheer him up and possibly make him laugh, and it worked. He leant over to kiss me and just as our lips were about to touch, I pulled away at the last second.

Confused, he looked at me and was about to ask me what was wrong when the pieces in his mind had clicked and he understood that I pulled away to not make him ill.

When I had started coughing again, I leant over and noticed a shopping bag near my bed that wasn't there last night.

"What's in the bag?" I asked curiously, trying to look into its contents.

He picked up the bag and started taking things out like heating and cooling pads for my aches, water bottles, bland food like crackers and chips, a new teddy bear, and various other things.

He instructed me to sit back and let him take care of me. I did as I was told and sat back on my bed, laying upright on my pillows and groaning slightly from moving. My body ached so much and I surmised that it was because I had no Tylenol in my system and just as I had thought that, Benny had pulled a new bottle from his bag and gave it to me with a cool bottle of water to go alongside it.

He also pulled out a pack of crackers and an apple for me to eat with it, claiming that if I ate fruit with it, it would help bring antioxidants, minerals and whatnot back into my system and help me get over it quicker. "Can I use a spell to at least help with some of the coughing and sniffling? I promise it wont go badly." He said with puppy dog eyes, knowing I could never say no to him.

"If you're absolutely certain, then yes you can my love." I said with a small smile on my face and a quick ruffle to his hair to solidify my point.

"Yay!" He exclaimed and excitedly rummaged through his bag to get his spell book, flicking and scanning through all the pages to get to some of the remedies for small things like illnesses.

"Okay, so I'll need a frogs liver, a bunch of herbs and spices, a garlic clove, a chickens eyes, and a ladybug." Just hearing some of those ingredients, made me want to gag, and as he ran off to make the potion, I kept thinking about what was going to be in it, making me feel nauseous, so I pulled the bin from the other side of the room over to my bed's side. I continued to nibble on the snacks while he was measuring and making the potion, taking extra care so that it doesn't go wrong and when he came back up to my room, I saw that he was covered in various thing, and smelt like a crackly fire, a nice addition.

He walked over to me and worried about it being wrong, hands slightly shaking he passed it to me and I looked at it suspiciously, still apprehensive about it potentially being wrong so I lifted it to my nose and with the best of my abilities, I gave it a smell and instantly reclined. It smelt disgusting.

"Are you sure this is right? It smells horrible." I interrogated Benny as he looked more hopeful.

"I followed the recipe to a T. I guess that's just how it smells." He answered calmly.

"Alright, I trust you." I said as I looked at the potion, back to Benny, and back to the potion again. I lifted the concoction to my lips and took a small swig, the taste was almost obscene to my senses and caused me to gag, I almost leant over and spat it out when I suddenly felt a little bit better, my nose wasn't as blocked before and I could breathe semi-normally without felling like I need to bring my lungs up.

That was until I looked over to Benny and he had an incredulous look on his face, in complete and utter disbelief about something above or behind my head. As I looked up and behind myself, I couldn't see what he was looking at so I turned back to him and when I looked back, he was holding a mirror up and I saw I had a pair of cat ears on my head.

"Benny, you told me it was fine!" I exclaimed but not angry.

"I thought it was! Hold on a minute." He exclaimed while laughing slightly. He flipped back through his spell book and tells me that apparently additions from random animals was normal and should go away soon.

I started to calm down and laugh at myself because in all honesty, it wasn't a huge deal since my parent/s weren't going to be coming anywhere near me because of my various symptoms and they already knew that Benny was a wizard because of him pulling out a bouquet of flowers for my mom when they first met and he didn't realise she didn't know.

After letting him take care of me for a few hours, I told him that it was probably best that he left so he didn't get the same illness I had but he was adamant that he stayed by my side because he didn't want me to be alone and sick, and he said that he knew I would do it for him, which was true.

He ended up staying the night, giving his grandma a message so she didn't go crazy looking for him, leaving small kisses on my forehead and cheeks while I slept, holding me close and making sure that I wasn't going anywhere and because of that god awful potion he gave me, my symptoms cleared up by the morning but I was left with another surprise.

I woke up and rolled onto my back, feeling much better, better than I was before; when I looked over to see Benny, he was in the same state I was in yesterday, curled up to me, looking sweaty and uncomfortable. So, I tried some remedies that I had read about but in Benny's case it was slightly funnier since when he sneezed now, there were sparks that flew out and he had coughed a few butterflies into existence.

All I said to him was "I told you so," with a kiss and a smile gracing my face and a pout on his pretty face.