#and all we have to do is give her the green rabbit plush in our hand...

[chipistrate]

STEEL WOOL SPEAK TO ME WHO IS THIS MYSTERY VOICE!!!!!!!!!

#Chip Chatter #is this ALSO Vanny???? Since some of these lines were hers???? #Her asking us to bring her the Glitchtrap plushie #if we hesitate to long she asks why we won't help #we're the last person that *can* help her #that we have the chance to end it #and all we have to do is give her the green rabbit plush in our hand... #Vanny was trying to get us to kill the last remaining bit of Glitchtrap's code- and it worked #GOD I WISH THEY'D KEPT THIS DIALOGUEEEEEE #help wanted 2 spoilers #HW2 spoilers

[angeloroki]

s/o who is like cat from victorious with shoto; bakugo; izuku

— character ; shoto todoroki x gn!reader, katsuki bakugo x gn!reader, izuku midoriya x gn!reader

— request ; Okokok I just had this idea while laying in bead and I think it would be really funny/sweet for izuku shoto and bakugou to have a really dum kinda like cat from victorious

— genre ; fluff, crack

— a/n ; they're all aged up as usual !

shoto todoroki

shoto simply adores you

he may not show it directly through words or anything but he loves you deeply

indeed, since his childhood he has known only darkness and melancholy

so when he met you you were like a ray of sunshine in his world full of anger and resentment towards his father

always cheerful and bubby,

it's true that sometimes he had a hard time keeping up with your excess of happiness

but he would never get tired of your smile that went up to your ears

shoto is also very protective of you

you are a naive and sensitive person

so consider yourself lucky to have shoto todoroki as your bodyguard

he would never let anyone shade his sunshine

a simple cold look and the person would leave you alone

and you then, always so innocent you didn't understand why the person who was bothering you suddenly left you alone

shoto was your guardian, while you were his light

sometimes he had to take a long time to explain something that was obvious to him

you are too innocent and naive

but you will never see him lose his temper with you

he will take all the time he needs to explain to you for example that no, animals in movies are not real talking animals

you were both walking through the mall with a drink in your hand. it was a perfect afternoon, you were telling him in a cheerful voice a rather bizarre story that made you laugh so much, while shoto listened silently with a slight smile on his face. your expression reflected nothing but happiness and innocence. he had become accustomed to your soft and melodious voice when suddenly your gaze fell on a plush shop. a pout formed gently on your face when you saw the price. aoutch. your adorable expression was soon replaced by a sad one. this obviously did not escape your boyfriend.

a few days later, shoto was waiting for you in front of your house with a bag in his hand. a smile immediately appeared on your face. you loved surprises!

« shoto, what's that ? » you say in a questioning voice.

your hand retrieved the bag and you wasted no time in discovering the contents. a large frog-shaped stuffed animal was in it.

your smile widened even more, which shoto thought was impossible considering how much you were already smiling, and a small laugh escaped from your lips. Shoto was pleased, he had succeeded in making you laugh.

« ahhhhh you're the best i love you i love you i love you ! »

« i love you too baby. »

katsuki bakugo

I think you are one of the few people with whom bakugo loses his temper less easily

but your naivety or lack of understanding...

you were... how to say?

quite slow at times

on the rare occasions when he pays you a compliment

you take it in an offensive way, and you end up saying almost in tears "what does that mean???"

and then he has to explain word by word what he tried to tell you in an irritated way

but as soon as you understand that he wanted to compliment you, a wide angelic smile lights up your face

and that bakugo would never admit but it always made him happy

and maybe even his cheeks took on a slight red tinge oops

he was the first one to call you a moron or an idiot

but nuance you were his idiot

so beware of whoever comes to make fun of you

katsuki would take care of that person without you knowing

because he didn't want your smile to disappear because of some assholes

however he often made fun of your tastes, stupid as he liked to say

you loved cute animals like rabbits or little cats

so every time you saw one in the street or at the pet store, bakugo was the first to laugh at you

which made you cry

but bakugo is a wonderful boyfriend and once bought you a kitten that you called king explosion murder

bakugo was on the verge of screaming. you were currently giving him a hard time because he had dared to ignore king explosion of murder who was asking to be petted. and that didn't sit well with you.

« y/n is just a damn cat! it's not the end of the world. »

you turned around, your lips curled up in an annoyed pout.

« it's not just any cat. it's king explosion of murder, our cat. which you promised to take care of. as much as i did. »

he rolled his eyes before sighing loudly. sometimes you could be as stubborn as the young blond, and in some situations it could be really annoying for both of you.

« y/n. » he said in a firm, desperate voice.

« hmm. »

« i'll buy you an ice cream if you'll stop giving me the cold shoulder. »

you finally turned your head to him, your irritated expression replaced by a happy smile.

« let's go. »

izuku midoriya

izuku always admired your energy

indeed you were a living battery

with your bright smile and the way you lit up the room you were in

nevertheless he had to admit that it was sometimes difficult to follow you during the day

poor baby, you were going too fast for him

but what was even more difficult for him was to understand you

you were asking him questions that were so insane and stupidthat he didn't know what to answer

aaand what he understood even less was your innocence or your naivety

how could you accept to give 1000$ to a stranger in the street because he told such and such a lie to fool you ?

your excessive kindness did not fail to surprise the young man with green hair

while we know that izuku is already altruistic

anyway

but despite everything he knew that he had a mission as a boyfriend to make you happy

and fortunately for him you were easy to make happy

he also loved this trait of being fascinated by everything and so easily

it was one of the many traits you both shared

« izuku ? »

he turned his head to face you, a slight smile painted on your face. your sweet voice echoed in his head. your face was serious, which usually was always accompanied by a smile no matter how light or super happy it was.

« do you think that dogs who wear clothes get teased by other dogs who don't ? i hope not. because they're so cute... »

izuku blinked for a few seconds. a confused expression settled on his face. he shook his head gently, though he had to get used to her questiosn randoms.

« um y/n i don't know. but i don't think... »

you raised your eyebrows.

« i saw this video on youtube that showed the opposite. » you said, holding out your phone.

izuku looked at the video intently before handing the device back to you.

« y/n, baby. it's a cartoon. »

« so what ??? » you answer offended.

#bnha x reader #chloe! writes #shoto x reader #todoroki x reader #bakugo x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #izuku x reader #midoriya x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #shoto x you #shoto x y/n #midoriya x y/n #bakugo x you #katsuki x you #katsuki bakugo x y/n #katsuki bakugo x reader #shoto todoroki x you

[waywardimpalawriter]

hi! i really love your writing, and was really hoping you could do another dean winchester x f! plus size reader. possibly were they are best friends and she is pining for someone else. so before she can make her move on someone else he stops her and confess his love for her. idk maybe some angst/fluff/smut?? you don’t have to if u don’t want to, it’s totally up to you. like no pressure at all! but seriously, i do really love all your writing and i wanted to say thank you for everything u write and do!! <3 once again no pressure at all with this ask, but overall thank you!!<3

Just one good reason

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus Size Female Reader

SPN mixed Bingo Square: Hurt/Comfort Square

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester,

Setting: mid season 11

Rating: E (explicit), NSFW, 18+ only please

Warnings: angst, smut, yearning, grumpy and sweet Dean (yes they need a warning),

Word count: 12,805 (Truly Was suppose to be this long. I blame Dean for this.)

Summary: He’s given a million reasons, damaged goods, blood on his hands, nightmares, scared in so many ways. But most of all that he’s not good enough. Just when you’re ready to walk out that door he gives you one good reason to stay.

Notes: Thank you Anon for this request, I love writing for Dean so very much and to add a plus size gal in as well that just makes my day. I do hope you’ll enjoy this story. The song “Million Reasons” both version’s by Lady Gaga and Briana Buckmaster are inspiration for this story.

Tag list: Is open for all character’s and series I write for.

@spnmixedbingo

Dean Winchester list: @akshi8278

Just one good reason list: @chickensarentcheap

@impala1967dwinchester, @lilacprincessofrecovery, @superavengerpotterstar @jbbarnesgirl @sofreddie  @slightlyobsessedwithissues  

Ancient hinges creak wearily, firm hand pushing to hold open the heavy door letting you and Sam pass by. Fatigued sigh leaves slightly chapped lips, “It’s good to be home.” Taking the stairs down two at a time, tossing duffle bags towards the war table.

“Going soft on us old man?” Teasing quip tugging a smile from your lips as you drop down into the nearest chair. “Getting use to having that soft bed under your ass now huh?”

Scoffing, whiskey flecked green eyes settling on your plush frame, “Woman you forget we’re the same age first off.” Playfully stocking towards you, hands placed on the back of your chair to cage you in. “Second damn right that bed is magical, memory form baby, it remembers me,” poking your side, giggle leaving your lips body squirming in the seat.

“Stop,” pleading tone entering your voice, trying to evaded his questing hands trailing along your curvy sides. “Please,” puppy eyes begging for mercy, his hands aren’t willing to give. Though you can’t bring yourself to care seeing the weight, even for a moment, disappear from his countenance. Or the fact your sides aren’t the ticklish spot on your body, moving in the seat purely for show.

“Say your sorry for calling me old,” brow lifting watching you squirm under his hands. Wishing and not for the first time, he could have your soft body slotted against his harder frame. Knowing how well you fit just in a different way, one that hasn’t been enough for a long time.

Giggles burst from your lips, hands flat against the hard plains of his chest tugging on the dark blue t-shirt to distract from his plans. Pushing him away which had as much of an effect as a toy bulldozer did against a real brick wall. “Okay, okay I’m sorry, promise I’m sorry,” gasping for breath giving a hard tap to his shoulder.

“Now who’s giving up too soon?” Hands pause as his eyes catch yours for a long moment. Smiling face beaming up at him, heart beating triple time and not from assaulting you with his hands. Unable to resist the urge to touch your soft skin. Callused fingers come up to barely graze just under your left eye carefully capturing the eyelash on the tip of his forefinger from your cheek, “Make a wish.”

Leaning forward to place your lips close to the offered digit, eyes closed to blow a cold stream, eyelash fluttering away unseen. Keeping your libs lowered for a bit longer torn between what you truly desire and what’s within your grasp. Whiskey roughened voice breaking through your thoughts, sending a pleasurable shiver down your spine.

“What you wish for?” Swallowing hard, beloved eyes flutter open to ensnare his in there depths. Catching something simmering just below but disappears quicker than a jack rabbit running from a coyote.

Clearing yours throat, “Can’t tell ya Deano won’t come true if I do.” Giving a smile, pressing him backwards to raise and grab your duffle bag. Cell phone signaling an incoming text message making you pull the the black case wrapped piece of tech out of your front jeans pocket. Bright smile pulling your lips higher seeing just who’s messaged you. “Catch y’all later.”

“Someone good?” Sam speaks for the first time since coming home. Watching the scene between his brother and best friend. Wanting to strangle the both of you for not seeing what’s right in front of you.

Head snapping up from buried in your phone to stare wide eyed at Sam, “Yes, no I mean it’s nothing but could be something.”

“Will again?” Peripheral catching the dark scowl pass over Dean’s features before disappearing behind a mask of indifference.

Humming sweetly, sparkle lighting your eyes that go back to your phone for a moment. “He’s asking if we can meet up tomorrow for lunch, trying to choose where to eat.”

“What about,” clearing his throat to unclog the emotions choking off the air to breath. “That little diner in town? It’s your favorite and serves the best pie aside yours of course.”

Trapping and tugging your bottom lip between nibbling teeth, head shaking in the negative. “Nope he’s not fond of greasy foods.”

‘Plus that’s our spot,’ unbridled thought slides into your mind and you want to look over at Dean to remind him. But push those thoughts aside with a wave, heading towards the bedrooms carefully making sure not to bump into a wall while responding.

Green eyes follow till you round the corner, heart catching in his throat cursing himself for mentioning your diner. Knowing better yet wanting confirmation without asking if the spot is still special.

“You’re an idiot Dean,” shaggy brown head shaking as he to snaps up his duffle bag to head towards his room. “The foundation is already there start building before it cracks.”

“Thanks Riddler, just cause I’m Batman doesn’t mean you have to be so fucking vague.” Left with his thoughts and the growing feeling he’s loosing you to another man. Dean leaves his stuff lay where it landed glancing over the chair you vacated not five minutes ago then heading towards the kitchen. In need of something harder than beer but settling for the dark brew being the only alcohol in the bunker.

Opening the fridge door, grabbing a brew his fingers brush against the clear plastic container holding a single slice of pecan pie. Eyes unseeing, drifting back into memories when the Mark of Cain still burned into his skin.

2015

Charlie’s dead, beaten, murdered and left in a pool of her own blood. Every time his eyes close she’s there, expressionless sea green eyes staring blankly into his own. Never hearing her snarky retorts, sassy ways or those hugs she gave. Staring into cold brown sludge, hands gripping the mug a little too tightly. Not sure why he chose to come here of all places. When he could’ve started out on his hunt for the Styne’s. Deep down though he knows the reason right as the little bell signals someone’s entered the small family owned diner. Knowing exactly who and trying to ready himself for your present.

Never ready for how your soft fingers brush along his temple, settling on his shoulder for a moment while you slide into the worn pleather covered booth. Trailing those gentle fingers down his black and grey plaid covered arm. Tugging one hand from around the ceramic cup to intertwine your fingers. Head coming to rest on his shoulder, no words just comfort in a time when he needs it most.

“You shouldn’t be here,” dark with hints of gravel and kissed with pain in the tone. Whiskey flicked green obits focus, for the first time on something besides the cup in his hands, landing on the top of your head.

Shrugging, “Where else should I be Dean?” Looking up at him sorrowful eyes meeting right when your other palm comes up to brush moisture from his cheek. Unnoticed tears sliding down cool cheeks, “You’re my best friend there’s no place I’d rather be then right here helping you.”

“You could get killed,” the very through twists his heart till almost bursting. Brings bile to rise in the back of his throat, slithering through his system to settle unpleasantly in the pit of his stomach. It’s one thing to loose Charlie a heavy casualty. But you, Dean isn’t sure he’d come back from the dark path he’d follow for vengeance.

Soft sad smile turns your lips barely upward, “Not gonna happen I have my knight in shining Impala to keep me safe.”

“I couldn’t keep Charlie safe how can I…”

Shaking your head, finger placed over his kissable lips, “You’ve given me a million reasons already Dean Winchester and I don’t believe a single one of them.” Resting your foreheads together a moment, tenderness skating across your veins for the man beside you, “You might not believe it but your a good man.”

Pie filled plate slides across scared formica table top, metal fork clattering against the ceramic pushed in front. “More coffee,” sweet feminine voice floats from beside you.

Nodding, “Please, sugar and cream too.” Giving her a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes feeling Dean stir beside you.

“Black like my soul you know that sweetheart,” slightly chapped lips brush your cheek. A simple thank you for this act of kindness he feels undeserving of. If he hadn’t already been head over heels in love with you this sweet gesture would’ve sealed the deal.

Breathless gasp parts your lips as you turn finding Dean closer almost invading your space. Leather, motor oil and Irish Spring tickle your nose, eyes locking with those agony drenched obits, making another gasp exist your lungs. Heartache rocketing through your body, colliding with anger directed at the Styne’s.

“Eat your pie Winchester we’ll talk about that soul of yours later after dealing with the Styne’s.”

Heart freezing at the mention of the murdering family, “No,” rougher than intended, Dean grabs your chin twisting your face towards his. Rage hot and potent flaring through those beautiful greens. “No you will stay with Sam I’ll deal with them myself…”

“Dean you can’t be serious…” grabbing his wrist, pleading in your eyes for him to listen. Loosing Charlie splintered your heart, counting her as the sister you’ve never had. Her blood demanding revenge for the grievous act. But loosing Dean would kill you, knowing you never would come back from that agony.

“I am, deadly so. You try and sneak along I’ll toss that sexy ass outta Baby faster than you can pray to Castiel.”

Snorting, pulling your chin from his grasp, “You couldn’t lift me Winchester and you can’t stop me…” but the look he gives you does. Any farther flow of words halt in there bid to tumble out of your mouth.

“No I can’t,” callused palms cup your cheeks keeping you in place. Searching your eyes and making sure you understood, “I don’t want you to come with me Y/N. If there’s anytime to listen its now. I’ve lost one sister I didn’t want.” Bitting those words out to keep from speaking the others which threaten to pour from his being. “I can’t loose you,” resting your foreheads together again.

Nodding, trying to keep yourself from rubbing your cheek into his palm or worse press your lips against his. Lying to yourself isn’t something you normally do and you wouldn’t start now with the realization you were in love with your best friend and worried your going to loose him to the all consuming darkness.

You're giving me a million reasons to let you go

You're giving me a million reasons to quit the show

You're giving me a million reasons

Give me a million reasons

Giving me a million reasons

About a million reasons

Present

Downing the last of his long neck, drawing patterns over the hardwood table underneath with the condensation from the bottle. Eyes trained on that single slice of pie you’d bought him weeks ago.

“I wouldn’t eat that if I were you D,” mirth filled voice floats towards him before you reach his side in body.

Hand coming into view grabbing for the container to toss it out. But Dean’s quicker, “If you value your life, you’ll unhand my pie,” thick fingers circle your wrist pulling your plush body down beside him. “It’s not nice to steal a man’s pie woman,” keeping his tone light, playful and away from the looming fate he knows will visit upon his person once you figure out Will is the man you truly want. Deserving of your light, and laughter, the sweetness, of your beauty that Dean only hopes the other man will appreciate.

Gasping in mock outrage, “Who me?” Hand to heart trying to keep the laughter from your tone. “I would never deprive you of pie Deano. But I would that slice since I think it’s become a science experiment.”

Narrowing his eyes towards the offending sweet dessert, “It is not.” Poking twice before pulling the pie forward for a closer inspection. Musical laughter meeting his ears, smothering the smirk threatening to bloom over his lips. “Okay so maybe your right,” turning his pouting face towards you.

“Course I am,” giving him a wink then standing to toss the ruined sweets out. Pausing by the panty, you peek in unaware Dean’s watching you from his seat.

Teasing sway to your generous hips has his eyes tracking every movement. Bitting the inside of his cheek to keep from groaning at how temping you look. Thick thighs encased in blue denim jeans feet bare from wearing those steal toed Dr. Martins during hunts. Body stretching upwards, soft cotton baby blue tank top riding up to bare a silver of delicate skin to his eyes. Your fingers barely snag the sugar container’s edge, pulling it down to clasp against your ample chest.

Chastising himself for the erotic thoughts flipping through his mind on a single film reel. “What exactly are you doing sweetheart?” Carefully keeping his lower half away from your line of sight. Lest you find out the problem currently tenting his jeans, teeth gritting to stop himself from acting on all those thoughts.

“Never you mind Dean Winchester,” tossing over your shoulder, checking for vanilla extract, light syrup, and butter from the fridge. Last stop the freezer mentally trying to remember if you there's a pie shell left or would need to make one. Hoping for at least a single, since checking the flour stock and coming up almost empty. “Start a list for me please and put flour on it,” setting the three ingredients in your hands down. Turning back to open the metal door to peer into the freeze, swaying slighting to a song running through your head. A triumphant “Yes,” exists your lips, a little dance of excitement upon finding the last shell.

Damn near swallowing his tongue so entranced by your movements gulping different words back down to keep from making a total fool of himself. As he utters, “Not till I know exactly what your making over there Betty Crocker.”

“Resorting to blackmail now?” Brow arched, unconsciously licking your lips slowly. Unaware of Dean watching the path it takes across your pump bottom lip, tucking it between indenting teeth.

For distraction purposes, Dean pulls his phone from the front pocket of his jeans. Bringing up the list app a suggestion to simplify things you gave him months back. Forcing himself to focus on the small screen in his hands instead of the woman currently dancing around the kitchen. Pulling bowls, pots and pans out, one chance glance has an inaudible groan vibrating through his chest at the sight of your plush ass. Bent over shifting through sheet pans knowing which you look for as arousal flares to life so potent Dean turns quickly hiding his reacting. Planting his face in the palms of his hands, elbows bent to catch the weight. Fingers digging into eye sockets to use the pain and banish the thoughts from reappearing.

Frowning at his actions you come over after putting the pan on the counter. Fingers running through his hair, scraping the scalp with short nails. Pleased smile at the groan you pull from his lips as he rubs his head into your palm like a little puppy. “Something wrong Dean?” Worry dancing through the cadence of your voice other hand coming to rest on his shoulder.

“Fine,” head popping up, forcing your fingers to slide out of his hair. Taking a chance to glance up into your worried eyes. Underserving of your soft touch searing his skin. An itch to run from our presence skitters across his veins. “I’m fine sweetheart just tired.”

Searching his face, those whiskey flecked green eyes so unlike the blue-greens of Will’s, catching something hiding in those deep depths he’s trying to hide. Never fooled by words, always inspecting his actions and those little tells partially concealed though you know them all too well. “You’re covering something up Winchester I’ll get it out of you one way or another,” patting his cheek and stepping away.

‘I don’t want you to go on that date,’ on the tip of his tongue poised to leave his lips he keeps smashed together burying those feelings to not ruin this chance you have at an apple pie life. The very thought tears his heart, rendering another hole in the punched out organ. Though it’s his own fault for giving you a million reasons to keep that boundary line in place. Tip toeing almost across a few times, but always toeing the line keeping himself in check. Head snapping around when something hard hits the back of his head, scowl in place though it’s more playful than menacing. “Did you just…” glancing towards the floor to find a lone pecan on the ground behind him. Head tilted to the side, eyes narrowed on your face, which is the total opposite of his holding a sweetly innocent look concealing the trouble he knows you’ll cause. “Seriously a pecan? That could’ve done damage Babe Ruth.”

Eyes rolling, snort issuing from your up turned lips, “I don’t know what you speak of Dean I’m just here making a pie minding my own business. Can’t help it if a pecan has it out for you.”

“Possessed it must be,” voice pitched in a poor imitation of Master Yoda, getting a boo hiss from your general direction. “Though something tells me a certain someone threw the poor helpless nut.”

Shrugging, face neutral a picture of indifference with hands on your wide hips ingredients spread out over the counter. “Stop calling yourself names Dean it’s not nice.” Bottom lip trapped for a second to keep from giggling at the way he’s looking towards you.

Enjoying this moment of normalcy you’ve managed to capture in these dark and dangerous times. Thoughts skittering towards Will, if he’s able to put up with the hunters life style? Former Marine, Will knows so little of what truly goes bump in the night making you worry he wouldn’t feel at ease. It’s the reason you’ve hesitated each time he’s asked you out. Not wanting to drag someone else into a life of blood and death. Persistence and patience paid off when you finally agreed on a dinner date for tomorrow night. One your actually looking forward to.

But then you glance towards Dean, seeing the smile grace those soft looking lips, shinning in his whiskey flecked green orbs for the first time in months and you hesitate. Would you want to leave this life for a man who wouldn’t understand you not fully anyway? Or stay and remain the best friend till a hunt takes one of you out? Could you truly leave your home with the Winchesters, with Dean?

His voice breaks through the your thoughts, ruthful chuckle echoing through the room, “Haha sweetheart stop trying to be John Candy it ain’t workin for ya,” bending to scoop up the tossed nut a memory filters through his mind. Opening a wound he thought long since closed over soaked in whiskey and women who’s names he’s forgotten. Shaking the thought away to ask, “You gonna chunk a nut at your boyfriend tomorrow night too? Or is that reserved for me?”

Not sure why he’s even asking or teasing you about it or the fact there’s a bite to the tone. He shouldn’t care about a simple date, yet the thought twists his gut smile slipping from his lips as he looks down at the pecan in hand. Unwillingly letting those images fill and play before his eyes.

If I had a highway, I would run for the hills

If you could find a dry way, I'd forever be still

But you're giving me a million reasons

Give me a million reasons

Giving me a million reasons

About a million reasons

December 2011

Run down two room shack a nicer way of putting it truly, you think while pulling up outside next to Baby’s sleek black side. Hands gripping the steer wheel till knuckles hurt and you can focus again through the haze of tears spilling down your cold cheeks. Still trying to grasp the fact Bobby Singer legendary hunter, go to lore man, and surrogate father, dead by a bullet from Dick Roman’s gun. Itching for vengeance you try to quell for another time when you can let all the anger out. For right now you knew he needed you more than any strategy planning or revenge thought.

Remembering Sam’s voice shaking, laced with pain, peppered with rage but above all coated in sadness you could hear over the phone lines. Never hesitating to drop the case — for now — breaking speed limit in the need to reunite with your boys. You’d do anything for family even those who weren’t by blood. Learning a long time ago that family doesn’t end with the DNA flowing through your veins.

Shaking those thoughts from your mind and existing the car only to lean back in and grab the bags from the passenger side. Standing to full height to peer over the top locking eyes with those anger clouded greens. “No I didn’t bring you anything Winchester so don’t bother asking.” Trying to lighten the situation with poorly used humor.

Words fail to leave thinned lips as you pass by, hand holding the creaking barely held together door open for you. Following behind his voice scratchy from no use, “Sam call you?”

“Of course silly why wouldn’t he?” Placing the bags on what could pass for a pile of rubble instead of an island countertop. Turning to face him cataloging each feature, the stone set of his jaw, shoulders tight with tension, eyes those beautiful normally vibrate whiskey flecked greens mute with anguish he tries to hide.

Shrugging, shoulders dropping forward with no will to keep them up, “He shouldn’t have your needed else where Y/N.”

“Bullshit Winchester,” moving with purpose to stand in his personal space. “Bobby was just as much a father to me as to you. There’s no other place I’d rather be than here, for a different reason yes but I’m not leaving so suck it up buttercup.”

Catching the flash of anger tinging the deep greens whether directed at you or himself you’re not sure. “We already salted and burned his body, there’s no reason for you to stay.” Turning away from your softening eyes knowing your going to try and reason with him. Make him see he’s not responsible for what happened.

“I know,” two simple words make him pause and turn back. “I didn’t come to say goodbye to Bobby, I came for you.” Taking one step closer arms wrapping around his slumped shoulders bringing him into the shelter of your embrace. Steady hands running the length of his stiff back, imparting your warm, trying to give comfort knowing he’s unaccepting of such sympathies.

Brows furrowing, frown tipping his lips downward, fists clinching at his sides, Dean tries to keep himself from giving into the solace he so easily could find in your embrace. Warmth sinking into his skin through the layers of clothing he wears, tingling his skin, quickening his pulse.“Why?”

“You need me, your not listening to Sam or Castiel talking about going off to track Roman down yourself,” spitting the Leviathan’s name out like chewed to long gum. Head resting against his strong chest feeling the slightly erratic beat of his heart against your ear.

Back stiffening, “I don’t need you to tell me what to do Y/N I can make that decision on my own.” Low growl rattling through his chest as he pulls from your arms and steps from the warmth evaporating from his body. “You should leave.”

“And get yourself killed?” Hands slamming to your wide hips glaring daggers at your best friend. “What happened wasn’t your fault Dean. Any one of us could’ve taken that bullet, Bobby knew the risks of the mission, accepted them and died…” swallowing the tears threatening to slip from your eyes. “A hero,” ignoring his last words, reaching out to try and take his hand only to have him pull away like you’ve burned him.

“Don’t, don’t try to reason this with me I know better,” turning his back to head for the wall covered in papers trying to figure out just what Dick Roman’s up too.

Shaking your head knowing he’s hurting but not wanting to voice those feelings, to make him appear weak. With a sigh leaving your frowning lips you move silently beside him looking over the wall of weird trying to piece together how everything connects. Brushing your hand against his, pinkie trailing to catch what you think is his forefinger. Wrapping the little finger tightly around his you lean over, “I’m right here when you’re ready Dean, I’m not leaving nor letting go.”

“You should,” not bothering to turn and face you. Memories of Lisa and Ben filter through his thoughts along with Bobby, his father and what he can remember of his mother. “I’m poison and get everyone around me killed.” He doesn’t want to add you to the growing list. Rather wanting you to leave and find a different path for your life.

Tugging on his finger to wrap the middle and forefinger with your ring and pinkie fingers, “Then Sam and I are the antidote to your poison.” Giving a soft sad smile to his side profile, wrapping him up into your arms. Resting your head on his shoulder, voice a gentle whisper of breath upon his cheek and neck,“Those reasons keep tallying up Winchester we’ll hit a million before long.”

Reminding you both of a long ago discussion between the two of you in Bobby’s junk yard while still teenagers. Before angels and demons, vampires thought long dead and ancient Leviathan brought back from the pit of purgatory. When you made the packed to never fall for each other and always remain best friends. To never let go no matter how dire the situation, you’d have each other’s back.

Evaporating memories of long ago, you speak softly still resting your head on his shoulder. “You work on this mosaic of papers you have plastered over the walls. I have a pie to bake,” not giving it much thought you quickly press a kiss to his stubbled cheek then turn to head back towards the passable kitchen area.

Tingles dance over his skin for longer than he wishes, wanting to suppress those feelings bubbling up to try and consume him. Thinking he could bury them under the mounting pain and self hated. Yet, the warmth of your arms, soft press of your lips, your words register and sink into his brain Dean turns to watch you work unable stop a few of those feelings from dancing around his heart. Single thought shocking him in its stark contradiction to his current state of mind, Dean Winchester self proclaimed ladies man has fallen in love with his best friend. A sucker punch to the gut making him gasp and reel that silent declaration in. Stuffing it under the right full emotions of anger and pain. Letting them tap dance through his veins instead, something much safer for the both of them. Something he could understand and deal with.

I bow down to pray

I try to make the worst seem better

Lord, show me the way

To cut through all his worn out leather

I've got a hundred million reasons to walk away

But, baby, I just need one good one to stay

Head stuck in a cycle, I look off and I stare

It's like that I've stopped breathing, but completely aware

'Cause you're giving me a million reasons

Give me a million reasons

Giving me a million reasons

About a million reasons

Present

“He’s not my boyfriend yet Dean,” eyes rolling as you turn to melt the butter in a small sauce pan. Though there is a part of you wishing he could one day fill the role unless a single good reason can change your mind comes your way.

“But you want him too?” Words muttered through presses together teeth. Hating the fact he’s letting something so trivial effect him in such a way. You’ve had other boyfriends, one night stands he’s had to sit through yet this one feels different. As if he could truly loose you this time and those thoughts scare the shit outta him the most. Because yes you’re his best friend for longer than he can remember but above that you’re the woman who gets him, argues with him, sets his ass straight when he’s being stupid and above all or so he hopes, loves him warts and all.

Hands pause at his question looking into the melting golden liquid bubbling silently remembering to flick the tiny knob and turn the heat off. While your head screams to say yes but it’s a little small voice beating quickly beneath your ribcage making you pause. Clearing your throat to gather what thoughts you could from their scattered places. You’ve always spoke with honesty to Dean, unless circumstances dictated other wise, and you weren’t about to change now. Through you wouldn’t turn to face him when you did wanting to keep from seeing his eyes. Finding the reason for his questions in those green depths you’ve fallen for though never spoken the feelings. “Yes, he could…” swallowing to coat your dry throat to spit out the words rotting your stomach. “I could have a chance at happiness with Will, Dean. Why do you even ask?”

“I don’t want to loose you,” ‘Because I love you,’ on the tip of his tongue to tell you, give voice and life to his true feelings. Wanting you to stay and forget about those million other reasons he’s let slip between the cracks in your relationship.

Frozen in place, hands gripping the countertop beside the stove. “You wouldn’t loose me Dean I’d still go on hunts with you, I’d stick around,” lies tasting bitter on your tongue, heart beating triple time wondering if he’ll pick up on the dishonesty your speaking. Always feeling he’d never see you as anything other than his best friend. Never the type of woman to draw his attention, too soft and plush in places most men wouldn’t want and you didn’t pine for a man who’s given you a million reasons to walk away. So you shoved those feelings, the love you held back trying to make it work with other men. To find the one who’d surpass Dean destroying your feelings for the green eyed hunter, giving you the one reason to stay and belong. So why now did he have to put doubts in your mind? Why ask these questions when in years past he’d brush other men away as nothing more than a passing fancy?

Silently Dean stands slowly making his way towards you, taking in the ridged stance of your plush form. Hands itch to wrap around your thick waist and haul you against his chest. Pausing right beside you, brushing his fingers against yours too hook what he thinks is your forefinger with his pinkie. “You and I both know things wouldn’t stay the same between us sweetheart. He’d find a way to take you away from me,” praying you won’t pull away Dean turns to stare at your profile. Taking in the beauty he’s catalogued thousands of times, the curve of your lips when you smile, slope of your nose, eyes bright with laughter or spiting fire when angry usually at him. Softness of your cheeks under his palms the times he’s actually got to cup and caress the skin.

“We’ll remain best friends Dean that’ll never change,” gathering the courage to turn and look into his eyes. Catching the sadness coating those beloved greens making your heart ache. Tongue slipping out to tug back your bottom lip between your teeth indented them to keep from asking the question your heart demands.

Of its own accord Dean’s free hand comes up to brush over your cheek, cupping the soft skin, fingers spread from apple to jaw wanting so badly to draw you in and kiss those tempting lips. “I want you happy Y/N and if it’s possible out of this life, been wanting that for you since Bobby,” sliding his hand to your chin to pinch the end with his thumb and forefinger tipping your face up to press a lingering kiss to your forehead. “I’ll miss you sweetheart.”

Eyes lock with stormy greens after he pulls back, soft gasp parting your lips at the simple touch, words sounding like a goodbye instead of their usual see ya later. Grappling for words to say, questions to ask, trying to figure out what’s going on, and why now. But he’s gone before your brain can catch up with your mouth, and your turning to rush after, seeing his back disappear around the corner.

Feet finally responding to command as you quickly follow stopping at the doorway, “Give me one good reason.” Praying he’ll listen and stop, hoping it’s not too late. “Stop giving me all these reasons to leave.”

Back ridged but his mind a flurry of thoughts and answers, more questions than he could shake a stick at. Only one reason comes to mind, “Good reason to what?”

Traveling the short distance to take his hand intertwining your fingers with his, needing him to turn around and look at you. Needing the connection while stating, “Give me a good reason to stay Dean to not go tomorrow night.”

“I can’t,” partly wanting to flinch from your touch, to tug his hand free, and partly wanting to sink into your familiar embrace. Soak in the peace he always finds in your arms, to bath in your warmth and possibly bask in your love. But Dean wouldn’t be selfish he’d let you go even if it meant killing his own heart and soul.

The urge to punch him grows strong but your refrain from using violence, “Why not? Too scared? Or you just don’t care?”

The warmth of your hand disappears from searing into his palm, tingling those long nimble fingers, his eyes close knowing you’re walking away because of that millionth reason. Till the first brush of soft fingers tender in there touch upon his cheek. He gives in to the urge and rubs his slightly stubbled cheek into your palm. “If that’s you Sam, I’m gonna kick your ass dude,” ignoring your questions in favor of basking in your touch instead. Hearing the soft giggle from your lips brings a smile to his own. Eyes finally opening too stare into yours, almost doing a doubt take at what he sees in those beloved depths. “I don’t deserve you Y/N.”

“Stop giving me a million reasons Dean and give me the one that’ll make me stay,” imploring him with your touch, fingers tracing over his cheeks and jaw. Tracing his plush bottom lip with the pad of your thumb, “I just need one good reason.”

He’d find the situation funny if it’s anyone else standing in front asking the same question. Even Sam would get a chuckle from his lips, but you, his breath freezes, heart thumping wildly in equal measures of terror and excitement. The very thoughts running unrestrained in his mind scare the shit out of him, but only one truly feels right. Snaking an arm around your thick waist pulling you against his strong chest, fitting like missing puzzle pieces. His free hand coming up to cup your cheek, “I love you.”

Tears slip from their ducts barely held back till those three simple words spill from his mouth jump starting your heart and sending your emotions swirling. Warm palms cradle your wet cheeks, gun callused thumbs brush hot tears away, you spy the worry and fear your non response sparks. “Do you mean it?” Wanting clarification before handing your heart over to the very man who’s held it for so long.

Knowing what your asking Dean stops waiting and lowers his mouth to yours. That first touch of lips electricity shoots through you veins. Body responding quicker with arms going around his neck to pull him firmly against you not a wisp of space between your bodies. Fingers tangling in the short hairs at the back of his head while you slot your lips against his. Demanding and deep, a tangled dance of tongues. Clashing of teeth, a melding mouths and finding the right angles to draw those delicious moans from each of you. Till air becomes necessary and you break apart panting, “That answer your question sweetheart?”

“No,” smirking when his eyes narrow, “I wanna hear it again.”

No hesitation in speaking those three words, “I love you.” Groaning when your lips smash back to his. Stealing breath from his lungs and a moan from his chest, Dean walks you backward till your pressed against the cool tile wall. Lower pelvis holding your soft body in place so his hands can dance over your cotton covered plush form. Palm’s flat against your thick waist, slowly dragging them around and down to cup your generous ass. Squeezing firmly and making you gasp.

Using the opening as a way to work his tongue back into your mouth, delving in for another taste of your sweetness. Low groan existing when rearranging his mouth to fit differently and snag a gulp of air. Stubble abrading your chin in the most spectacular of ways. Pooling heat low in your belly and making your mind wander in other more salacious directions. Brought back from teetering on the deliciously desirable edge by a sharp bite, his teeth nabbing your bottom lip to tug, letting go with a wet pop. Breath fanning out over your heated cheeks. Eyes once closed now open and locked with yours a pleading undertone to the desire darkened greens.

Knowing what he wants to hear and unable to wait along, “I love you too Dean.” Heart bursting with unrestrained joy flooding your system and making you love drunk.

“Thank fucking God,” groaning, resting your foreheads together still trying to reign in the wild thumping of his heart. Your admission only serves to make the largest muscle spasm quicker. All his pent up emotions, desires and needs flowing to the surface, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from rushing into something too fast. Remembering it’s still fresh and new between the two of you a different path to the relationship already established in friendship.

Giggling softly, you cup both his cheeks, thumbs brushing along his skin, three days worth of stubble abrading your palms. “So,” teasing smirk pulling at your lips, “I better call Will huh?”

“For?” Trying to keep the bitter growl from escaping and giving away his feelings on the sore subject. Tugging your soft body back in place from your wiggles to side free, not ready to let you go just yet.

Sliding one hand down his chest to rest where you know his anti-possession tattoo resides. Tracing the edges with the tip of your finger over the black t-shirt he’s wearing, locking eyes with his, “Seems I’m a taken woman. Wouldn’t want to lead the poor guy on now would I?” Watching how those whiskey flecked greens darken, pushing his lower body deeper into your plush form. Barely heard as you try not to give away the whimper of need his body produces in your own, with his pressed so tightly. Cool concrete keeping you body temp from over heating for the moment.

“No,” clearing his throat leaning in to draw his nose over your jawline. Touring towards your ear, catching the lobe between his front teeth to tug. Low desire filled growl leaving his lips, followed by, “Tomorrow is another day sweetheart and right now you’ve got better things to do.”

Heading tipping over granting access to the parts of your neck he wants, trying to keep the shiver from rolling over your body. Heat flooding your veins sparking a need you’ve never felt with any of the other men you’d previously had relations with. “What,” licking your parched lips, “what better things Dean?” Praying it’s the same idea rolling around your head for the longest time.

Pausing in his mapping of your neck and shoulder with his lips, Dean raises his head to spear you with a heated look. “Me for starters sweetheart, that is of course…” uneasiness has him trailing off the first time in his life. The bitter taste of uncertainty coating his thoughts for a fraction of a second before your lips land back on his.

Teasingly soft presses, little ghost touches of your tongue, playfully dotting his cheeks, chin and forehead with your lips before brushing close to his ear. “Hey Dean,” smiling against his skin, tenderly pressing your lips just south of his ear. Nibbling the found patch of sensitive skin behind committing the spot to memory for later. Breath puffing out quicker feeling him shiver, knowing what the next words would invoke in Dean and his love for the movie. “You big stud. Take me to bed or lose me forever,” sultry tone added to the cadence.

His eyes close for a moment, heart swelling as you recite the words to one of his favorite movies. Marveling at the fact you’ve remembered the lines perfectly and Dean falls deeper in love with you if that’s possible.

The gentle caresses of your lips against his skin setting fire to his nerve endings, room in his jeans becoming a hot commodity as his shaft thickens and throbs. Finding the distraction almost too much while trying to recall the next line. Teasing giggles reach his ears that he replies to with a deep chuckle. Words coming back to him, “Show me the way home, honey.”

Reaching down to tug one hand from your ass, chuckling with a shake of your head when it doesn’t budge but squeezes the generous globe. Notching himself tighter into your body, smirk appearing as your eyes widen, gasp issuing from parted lips. Bitting the inside of your cheek to keep from giggling before the words can escape. “Is that a pickle in your pocket or you just happy to see me?”

“Oh sweetheart it’s a great big dill I can show ya,” flashing a smirk, both of you trying hard not to laugh.

“Preferably,” deep voice tinged with slight offense but liberally coated in amusement. “In your own room so the both of you aren’t bare ass naked in the hallway bumping like bunnies,” having rounded the corner towards the kitchen and catching the intimate embrace. “A vision I don’t want branded into my skull thank you very much,” Sam paused arms crossed in annoyance. Golden dotted green eyes dancing with mirth, catching the playfully scandalous expression cross your features. Glancing towards Dean who buries his face in your neck getting a deep chuckle from his brother.

Try as you might to keep from busting out laughing they just rolled out of your mouth as your eyes lock with Sam’s. Acting stoic but the smile tugging at his lips and the teasing flash through his eyes speak a different story. Only thing holding you up is Dean’s body still pressed heavily against your. The man in question glancing up first to look at you then over his shoulder towards Sam. “Don’t even start Sammy,” grumbling good-naturedly giving him a middle finger salute and the opening you need to slip from between his hard body and the wall. Teasing growl rumbling through his chest at the loss of your warmth. Dean reaches out to snag your arm but you manage to dance out of his reach, giggles echoing off the walls trailing behind your disappearing form.

“Wouldn’t dream of it Dean but Cas owes me fifty bucks,” patent Sam Winchester smirk sliding over his lips. Brow raised at his scoff, “Can’t believe I had a betting pot going?”

Watching you run off happy grin tipping his mouth upward, he looks back at Sam grin still in place. “Just can’t believe it’s with Cas. Rowena maybe, Jody, Claire, Alex and Donna fuck yes but Cas,” incredulous look stealing over his features for a few moments.

“Who say’s the bet’s not bigger than you think,” broad shoulders shrugging same smirk in place, Sam enters the kitchen on that note leaving Dean to stare wide eyed after his baby brother. “Matter of time, always just a matter of time,” laughter tinged voice exists the kitchen, unseen shake of his head at the mess left behind.

Stock still for a fraction of a second till soft giggles echo quietly down the hall, grin turning into full blown smile. Need rushing back through his veins in remembrance of your position just a few short moments ago. Low curse existing his mouth, Dean turns racing off to find which room you’re hiding in.

Nerves tingled through your body, worry interrupting thoughts/memories of short minutes ago. Hard press of his body against yours, warm moist breath fanning out over your skin sending tingles of a different kind to skitter across your veins. But now standing in Dean’s room trying to figure out where to lay or stand that would invoke images of sensuality. You look down at your bare feet toes wiggling against cold concrete. Up wards to thick jeans clad thighs, a baby blue tank top covering your torso, self consciousness went out the window decades ago. After the first serious injuries you suffered at the hands of a vengeful spirit had you damn near stripped naked in front of Dean. Confidence in face of adversity knowing he’s the only one for miles around to patch you up.

Now though is different, same confidence but wishing for sexier clothing something to entice and tease. Small snort issues from the depths of your body knowing damn well you had nothing of the sort in your possession. Flannels, tank tops, t-shirts and jeans hunter’s required staples along with the functional under garments you groan at remembering are mismatched at the present.

“Beautiful even in those rumpled clothing,” deep voice breaking through thoughts and making a squeak sound as you quickly turn to face the lazily leaning against the door jam hunter. Arms crossed over muscular chest, biceps straining the black t-shirt’s sleeves, “I meant what I said before Sammy interrupted us.”

Tugging your bottom lip back under indented top teeth turning to face him fully, “Which part?” Barely keeping the mirth from bubbling over, “That I should show you the way home or you have a big dill?” Easy going banter calming your nerves even the part about feeling ill-prepared clothing wise.

Tender infused whiskey fleck green eyes turn molten with each sweep of your body. “I love you,” words escape as eyes stay locked, Dean pushing away from the doorway. Booted foot catching the hardwood door and slamming it shut behind him. Stocking towards you as a lion would his prey, licking parched lips wanting to devour you. Hands fisting at his side though to keep from reaching out and doing just that incase it’s something your not ready for.

His breath froze upon seeing you walking around his room, something akin to relief floods his veins along with a sense of rightness. Sure you’ve come in hundreds of times to wake him from a nightmare or mornings, to barrow music and to talk. Yet, this time feels different giving your relationship changed moments ago. Catching the indecision clearly written in those beloved eyes that don’t focus on one place too long. For a moment Dean wishes he could read your thoughts but then having hunted and lived together for decades he picked up the situation and cues without having to know your thoughts.

Pleased hum breaks Dean from the wondering trail his thoughts took him on to spy the sweet smile gracing your lips. Hands positioned on your hips one cocked to the side as you stand there waiting expectedly. Restraining himself, Dean opens his palms to bring them up and cup your cheeks dragging you against him. Lips meeting in the tenderest of kisses that he keeps in place while speaking, “You want this, want me?”

Recognizing his vulnerability and what he’s asking with those simple words, arms wrap around his back fisting the shirt tightly to press the two of you together. Love saturated eyes burn into those greens you could drown in, “That’s my question Winchester stop stealing my lines.” Flattening one palm to slide up and into his hair. Pressing another kiss to his soft lips you’ve only imaged kissing till now. The reality so much better than any fantasy you ever came up with.

“Calling me a thief now sweetheart?” Using jokes to cover the fact he’s searching for the right words. Flustered and frustration slither through his veins in a combination Dean’s not accustom, words stammering of unintelligible nature tumble from his mouth. The feel of your blunt nails sending pleasurable shivers down his spine.

Nodding, craning your neck back a few inches but keeping your eyes locked, “You stole my lines and my heart Dean so yes that would make you a thief.” Hand sliding over his back now and settling into the back pocket of his jeans, “I also meant what I said back there.” Catching the cocked brow you elaborate, “Take me to bed Dean I’m tired of waiting, I want to know how it feels to have you inside me.”

Soft groan issues from parted lips. Wanting to act on your words so damn badly his body vibrates with barely contained desire. Forehead coming to rest against yours, strong hands sliding too loosely wrap around and caress your neck. “You know I’m not great at relationships. I could seriously fuck things up.”

“I know but then so could I,” any doubts or insecurities evaporating into the ether with every look.

Callused fingers brush over your bare shoulders sending sensual shivers cascading down your body. Rubbing your thighs together for added friction with the heated look Dean’s fixing you with. Boosting your confidence to step back his hands drop to the side as you own pinch at the hem of your tank top. Slowly pulling it from your body, letting it drop with a barely heard whisper.

“Fucking hell sweetheart,” resolve snapping, reaching for your hips and tugging you back against him harder than intended. Lips sealing quickly to swallow the gasp existed parted lips Dean takes advantage of and slips his tongue inside the warm cavern of your mouth.

There’s nothing gentle about this kiss, it’s all teeth and tongues, fighting desperately for dominance. Pulling groans from the depths of Dean’s soul as he pulls whimpers and moans from your own. Till air becomes needed though it doesn’t stop your mouth from trailing a hot path across his stubbled jaw. Nibbling towards that little patch behind his ear to flick the tip of your tongue against. Smirking at the shutter rolling through his body, fingers dancing a rhythm over his shirt covered torso. Hem reached you tug twice to which he nods reaching behind him grasping and pulling the garment off to join yours.

Hands, palms flat immediately going to ghost over his rippling tummy. Muscle covered soften causing all moisture to pool south, clit throbbing almost painfully. Sure you’ve seen him bare chested before this time it’s different. For pleasure instead of patching him up. Drawing desired groans rather than pain filled. “I know Sam would abject but I so wouldn’t mind seeing you walk around shirtless.”

Full belly chuckle leaves Dean’s lips, “Sweetheart don’t talk about other men right now especially not my brother.” Possessive hands landing on your naked plush waist, fingers spanning the distance and gripping the flesh in his palm. Dreams having nothing on the real woman in his palms.

“Just stating facts sir nothing more,” trailing your fingers over the slightly hair roughen skin. Brushing pebbled nipples from the cool air and your proximity. Reserving a gasp when you lean forward to lap with the tip of our tongue and nip at the peaked point. Glancing to lock eyes as you switch and give the same attention to its twin giving the same attention getting a hiss from your actions. Dragging you lips upward to trace his tattoo with kisses.

Molten green eyes drinking in the sight of your lips on his skin, shooting desire straight to his cock. Throbbing need demanding attention no matter how good your soft lips feel against his body. “Baby girl,” groaning at the nip you place, eyes close to compose himself. Flying open as air cool brushes his skin inside of the shared heat of both your bodies. Mesmerized by the way you reach back to unclasp your bra, pushing your lushes breasts out teasing his vision, salivating for a taste of your skin.

He steps forward crowding into your space backing you into the bed till the back of your calves hit the edge. Wrapping his arms around your plush form to brush hands away and do the task himself. Finger tips skimming the edges of both straps till reaching the top at your shoulders and drawing them down. Keeping his eyes locked with yours while pulling the garment from your pliant body tossing it behind him. Eyes flicking down on a groan, licking his dry lips at the beauty displayed for his ravenous gaze.

“Lay down for me sweetheart,” meeting your lust blown orbs with his own. “I wanna see you in my bed,” biting off a whimper when you drop onto the edge. Bountiful breasts bouncing teasingly as he watches you slide backwards towards the head board. Hands going to the button of your jeans, low growl pausing your nimble fingers. “That’s for me to do baby girl, just,” swallowing harshly as he looks you over. Partially naked spread out over his bed picture perfect memory for those times when the darkness tries to steal this happiness. “Give me a moment to drink you in.” Unable to decide where to look first, “So fucking gorgeous.” Toeing off his boots, hands going to his own jeans your shaking head pausing the movements.

“I get the same pleasure,” licking your lips slowly while raising up on your elbows. Beckoning him with two crooked fingers, hand resting with the palms up beside your plush body, “Get up here before I get impatience and take matters into my own hands.”

Declaration making him pause a moment low growl rumbling from deep with in his chest. As desire blown green meet yours, smirk gracing his handsome features. One knee comes to rest on the mattress Dean leans forward keeping eyes locked while pressing a kiss to your ankle. Grinning, feeling the quiver that runs through your body. “You wouldn’t dare sweetheart,” adding his other knee to spread your legs and slowly fit his body between.

“Shall we make a bet Winchester?” Using your free foot to brushing the nearest thigh with the flat. Sliding towards the very noticeable bulge busting the seams of his jeans, toes teasing the thick ridge before pressing the flat of your foot against him. Rubbing the length slowly pleased when a growl echos the room.

Grabbing that foot tickling the pad enjoying the way you squirm and giggle. Taking the opportunity to move fully between your legs. “About that bet hum,” fingertips drawing an invisible path of fire down the middle your body. Bracing then both arms on either side of your shoulders hovering over you, warm breath fanning out over your cheek he nuzzles with stubbled chin. Pulling a whimper from your gasping lips.

Of there own accord, your hands slide up the strength of his arms and biceps to clasping fingers together around the back of his neck. Left leg draped over his waist to pull him against your pelvis, breathless moan parting your lips at the contact of his hard length pressing into your dripping center. “I don’t want slow or gentle Dean,” head tipping back to give access to his questing lips that find your wildly thumping pulse, sucking a mark into the soft skin. “We have all night for that I just…” words caught upon seeing whiskey flecked green eyes dilated almost pitch with desire. Cheshire Cat grin tugging kiss swollen lips upward.

“Just what sweetheart?” Humming, brushing your lips together before returning to his last spot. One hand dragging over your soft body cupping the generous globe massaging gently feeling the nipple peak against his palm. Teasingly circling the stiff nub with the tip of his index finger before giving a sharp pinch and making you gasp out. Back arching at the pleasurable pain skittering across your veins.

Grasping what’s left of your mind to try and form coherent words, body responding instead pressing your chest into his large hand. Nails score down his back, one completing the journey to give his ass a tight squeeze. As the other detours to between your intimately pressed body. Happy to find enough space to slot your palm against his erection, cupping his throbbing length and giving short little strokes. Smile blooming with a breathless groan against your collarbone where Dean’s forehead currently rests. Nimble fingers pop the small metal disk, pulling the zipper tab down to slip the hand inside. Warmth enveloping palm feeling him twitch has you slowly licking your lips at the mire thought of getting to taste him.

“You’re killing me Y/N,” rutting his hips into your hand, mouth coming back to claim yours in a punishingly bruising kill. Tangling your tongues together, nipping a little harder on your bottom lip than meaning to but the accompanying moan flows straight to his cock. Making him twitch against your palm that has slowed with the distraction of the kiss.

Breaking for air, panting while trying to form and speak the right words, “We’re both a little over dressed Dean.” Pulling your hand from the tight confines of his jeans, using the one at his ass to help pull them and his boxers down only stopping when you couldn’t reach anything passed his knees. Sigh of relief exists his parted lips making you giggle and press a kiss to his chin. “Feel better?” Bottom lip trapped and nibbled on as your fingers brush his length. Finding your fingers barely wrap around the girth while to stroke, palm sliding over precum leaking head. Hips thrust forward at the sensations tingling down his back gathering low in his belly.

“Now who’s over dressed?” Mumbling the words against your skin. Dean regretfully brushes your hand aside grinning at the annoyed huff that leaves your lips. “Ah sweetheart put that sexy pout away you’ll get a chance to taste me soon enough. Cause if you keep using that soft hand on my cock I’ll cum faster than I want.”

His words presenting so many thoughts to run through your mind only cut off when wet warm heat engulfs your right nipple. Tongue flicking quickly over taut peak, blunt teeth nipping then soothing over with the tip of his tongue. Switching to the twin leaving both sloppy wet and tight, gleaming in the low light of his room. Worshipping at the temple of your body with kisses pressed into your tummy, running scared callused hands over your skin in silent reverence. Eyes taking in very inch Dean sits back on his knees between your parted legs. Tracing his knuckles along the seam of your jeans covered cunt, making you jolt against him.

Pausing to strip your jeans and panties from your body, tossing them and kicking his own off to land somewhere on the floor. Raising up on elbows to finally get a chance to look at him in all his naked glory. Tracing each divot of scars over a broad chest, passing over the middle to admire thick bowed legs spread wide. Lips licked slowly upon landing on his ridge cock, slightly curved and resting against his lower belly. Palm itching for a touch, mouth watering for that taste. “You’re beautiful Dean,” words whispered so low your unsure if he’s really heard them.

Heat blooms over his cheeks at your admission, looking your fill of his adonis body. Dean returns the admiration. Tracing the features of your beloved face, staring a little too long at your heaving breasts, soft tummy he wants to nibble on at some point. Thick thighs he can’t wait to have wrapped around his waist once he’s buried deep inside your wet heat. The very though has his eyes dropping between your parted legs, glistening folds beckoning him forward. Caught in that tempting trance, Dean slides back between your legs. Brushing his lips just above your mound and receiving a whimper from you. Locking eyes, “I think you got that backwards sweetheart, it’s you who’s beautiful.” Dipping to run the thick flat of his tongue through your folds, humming at the tangy sweetness exploding over his taste buds.

Hips cantering against his mouth, your own letting a deep moan free as one hand slides down to card through his short brown locks. Tugging the strands getting a groan to vibrate against your cunt while his talented tongue dances through your soaked folds. Torturing your clit with ghosted touches, one arm wraps around our thigh spreading you open. As the other slips a finger inside your wet channel, finding you squeezing and tight, garnering a deep groan of arousal from the man between your lips.

“Dean,” voice wrecked and he’s barely touched you. When he doesn’t answer or budge from his sensual assault on your cunt. Lips having formed a perfect O around your clit, tongue flicking kitten licks to the tiny nerve filled nub. Pleased with he whimpers and whines that filter through his desire filled mind.

Resulting in you tugging on his hair harder, back arching as a small shock rocks through your body, tingling your belly when he bites carefully on your clit. “Dean please,” eyes rolling back into your head at the added second finger. Crooked and pressing into the little spongy spot you’ve never had anyone touch. Ripping a half scream from the hidden depths of your soul.

Smug smirk tugging over slick wet lips, stubbled chin coming to rest just above your mound. Watching as you heave a breath, breasts catching his eyes for a moment till you tug again. Fingers anything but still as they thrust and scissor you open, working you carefully to fit his slightly above average length not wanting to hurt you. “Yes sweetheart?” Licking his lips from your slick.

Free hand coming up to cover your heated face, “Don’t sound so smug,” gasping the last word when his thumb brushes over your clit making you jump and wither. Heat spreading from that special spot in your belly, where the tight coil starts to wind higher. Thick thighs tremble with each sensation Dean draws out of you. “Need you, please, please.”

Caressing your quivering walls with the gun callused pads of his fingers, massaging your clit as you plead. Breath chocked out on another moan, chest heavy, heat coating your skin as you wither under him. “Ah but I can’t help myself sweetheart you don’t know what seeing you like this does to me.”

Gathering what little strength you have in your limbs to reach down and cup his cheeks, thumbs brushing over the skin under his eyes. “Why don’t you get up here and show me Dean?” Voice wreaked yet a tender undertone rides through the cadence.

Pressing a single kiss to the pulsing little clit, giving once last flick making your squirm and Dean to chuckle. Slowly pulling his fingers out, stroking twice more your hips chasing the indescribable ecstasy winding its way through your veins. Only to have the tingles dance slower, the coil start to unwind as frustrated huff leaving your gasping lips.

Taking advantage to plunder your mouth, greedy for a sample of the wet cavern and a tongue tango that draws out a sharp moan of need. Especially tasting your tangy sweetness from his lips, sucking the bottom between your teeth to nibble. While reaching blindly over to the nightstand, damn near yanking the whole draw on the ground in his haste. “Give me a sec woman,” huffing out he rolls slightly off you. The noise drawing a giggle out causing him too stiffen, glancing back with a playful glare to refocus on finding his prize.

Using the opportunity to nose the thick column of his neck, taking in the scent of whiskey, leather and motor oil, peppered now with sex and sweat. Addicting and unable to help yourself from sink your teeth into his skin gently but hard enough to leave a small soon to purple mark. Soothing over with the flat of your tongue catching sight of the pause your actions caused. The aroused moan that leaves his lips, head resting on the bed to try and gather himself from your onslaught.

“Something wrong Dean?” Nipping just below his jaw, tracing your fingers along his side. Index finger swirling through the spares, crisp hairs leading a path to what you’ve craved to have inside you for a long time. Nimble fingers surround the base forming a perfect circle that can’t close but tightens. Stroking his length teasingly slow. In return receiving a warning growl — the sound devastating your senses making you throb — from the man currently fishing for a condom and growing frustrated when his fingers come up empty. “Shall I stop my love? Am I distracting you?” Whispered words breathed into his ear, lips kissing the shell. Knowing damn well just how tormenting you are to his senes and body. If his twitching cock your hand currently wrapping around stroking and the shallow breaths are any indication.

“Ha,” triumphant shout of accomplishment, Dean rolls back over you pressing bodies together and into the mattress. “Now where were we?” Flashing that teasing smirk with a hard rutting of his hips against your dripping core and tight fisted hand.

“What to you so long stud?” Biting back the giggles when he fixes you with a scowl.

Breath hissing out through clinched teeth when taking your hand off his cock, bringing those wickedly wonderful fingers to his lips and sucking on each one with a short nibble. Placing the open condom pack in your palm, “Do the honors sweetheart.”

Curling your fingers around the little foil packet, pressing your other hand into the back of his neck drawing Dean in for a tender kiss. Slow meld of your lips, light sips of your warm mouths. Tenderly tugging his bottom lip, to slide your tongue over the bruised skin and into his mouth. Licking and touring the heated cavern, seeking out ways to make his moan and grunt. A moment of forgetfulness while mapping his tonsils and sucking on his tongue, till you break for air. Chasing his mouth for more kisses only to receive a chuckle instead.

Eyes open to spear him with a heated look, foil packet crinkling in your hand a remind of your mission. Slipping fingers from his soft hair, to trace over his body, joining its partner between the two of your heaving bodies. Unlocking your eyes to glance down, hand wrapping back around his thick shaft to stroke twice getting a needy moan from the man above you. Before teasingly rolling the condom on paying special attention to the thick pulsing vein on the underside, mouth watering at the thoughts of getting to taste it later.

Dean grasps one of your hips to bring the leg around his waist, opening you up and feeling your soft skin under his palm. Sliding between your bodies to entwine his fingers with your, pumping his cock together. Different sounds, a hiss from Dean and a moan from you exists on shuttering breaths. Eyes reattach both blown with desire and coated in need, you notch the head of his cock at your entrance pressing the heel of your foot into the small of his back to urge him forward.

Teeth clamping to draw blood from your bottom lip but also to keep from screaming out in pleasure as he slowly sinks inside your quivering depths. Reaching up with his other hand to free your bruised lip, brushing the pad of his thumb over the glistening skin. “I wanna hear you sweetheart don’t hold back.”

“What about Sam?” Breath hitching, mouth hanging open on a moan that’s trapped on the edge of a scream when he bottoms out against you. Bodies flush, joined hands now resting above your head where Dean’s placed them.

Leaning in to press open mouth kisses to your lips and neck letting you adjust to his size, the exquisite stretch thumps through your veins the slight sting only heightening the pleasure. “Never mention his name while we’re in bed sweetheart,” snagging the lobe of your ear with his teeth. Pleased when you nod speechless, though not enough, “Words baby girl I wanna hear that prefect voice of yours.”

Swallowing trying to form words to answer, scoring your nails down his back an impatience mewling whimper leaves instead. Using the leg not wrapped around Dean’s waist as leverage to plant and push your hips up against him. Squeezing your walls tightly around his shaft drawing out a grunt from his lips. “Dean…” going to say more but he chooses that moment to pull out till just the crown rested inside your pulsing channel. “Just you…” hips snapping forward to fill you quickly stealing those words into a loud scream of ecstasy.

Starting a hard punishing rhythm, repeatedly waiting till your fixing to speak and either pulling out or trusting home. Always taking away what your going to say. Knowing your trapped between frustration and pleasure, Dean captures your mouth in another deep kiss. While his hips snap against yours, wrapping the other leg around his waist to angle you differently. Pressing your intertwined hands into the pillow beside your head and breaking the bruising kiss to gulp a lung full of air into both your burning lungs.

Feeling your walls start to quiver around his hammering cock, knowing by the pinched look on your countenance, the quivering of your thick thighs clutching at his trim waist. Heels pressing into the small of his back drawing him forward with quickened strokes that he’s shortened from the long deep thrusts. Notching your legs higher on his waist to press forward, curling his pelvis into your core, determined to make you cum first. Wanting to feel you soak his cock, see the looks of pleasure dance across your features.

Sliding his fingers through your soaked folds to find your pearl pulsing, pressing the pad of his thumb circling to make a gasp fly from your lips. Back arching, tingles no longer gentle but tap dancing a rhythm through your veins. Dean’s name a chant from your dry, parched lips, panting to try and fill your starving lungs. Body vibrating on a higher frequency only Dean’s turned in on as with every snap of his hips, brush of his thumb sends your spiraling deeper into euphoria.

Reaching up to wrap your hand around his neck to bring him back down for another kiss. This one sloppy as the thrusts of Dean’s hips, brief touches of lips, wet slide of your tongues across the other. Eyes sliding closed only to snap back open with a pinch to your nipple soothed over my his teasing fingers.

“Keep those beautiful eyes open for me sweetheart and cum for me I know your close. You just gotta let go for me,” resting your foreheads together, gritting his teeth to starve off his own orgasm. The wet clinch almost too much for Dean to handle. Always wondering but never imagining how good this truly would feel.

“Dean,” breathing out his name, a series of moans and whimpers following. Trying to capture his mouth for another kiss that’s broken off when your orgasm slams into you soaking Dean’s cock in your slick. Eyes rolling back his name a screamed prayer from your lips.

Body convulsing in pleasurable all consuming fire, little sparks of light pin prick behind your tightly closed eyes. Moisture breath fans out over your neck where Dean buries his face, lips pressing into your skin. Chasing that high while working you through your orgasm the wet clinch of your walls prove too much to starve off any long. Giving in with a groan of your name rubbed into your skin as he fills the condom. Circling his hips a few more times to drag out the pleasurable spikes racking his frame.

Collapsing into your arms a welcome weight pressing you into the mattress as you both try to capture your breath. He brings your joined hands down starting to untwine them but the shake of your head stops the actions.

“For a few moments longer,” voice hoarse from screaming out your pleasure. Free hand coming up to card through his sweat drenched hair. Brushing the strands back from his forehead and sliding your lips over his. Brief touches, lingering into something deeper. Tender caresses of mouth’s, nibbling, and sucking softly on bruised skin. Dean starts to move getting a whimpered whine from your throat tightening your arms around him.

“Gotta clear you up sweetheart I’m not going anywhere,” reassuring you with another soft kiss while carefully pulling out of your tender depths. Mesmerized by the slick coating your tights and dripping from your convulsing walls. Brushing his fingers over the reddening swollen skin, gasp reaching his ears, eyes flying up to yours. Then flicking across your body seeing the beard burn on your neck and chest, hand prints blooming over your hips. “Did I hurt you?”

Sitting up to cup his cheeks, “No Dean you didn’t hurt me. If you had I would’ve told you.” Leaning in to kiss him tendering, “Better take care of that mess it’ll get awful sticky otherwise,” giving him a bright smile. Watching while he gingerly takes the spent condom off, tying it closed before tossing it into the waste bin by the night stand.

Raising to walk on shaky bowed legs to grab up the wash cloth from the sink. Wetting with warm water he turns back stunned to find you watching him with a grin on your lips. “Like what you see?”

“Hmm no,” seeing the frown you go to finish. “Love Dean, I see the man I love,” frown switching to teasing smirk as he nears the bed.

Nudging you to lay back and spread your legs, tenderly wiping you clean. Dragging the warm cloth over your folds and inner thighs. Tossing it behind him to crawl into bed gathering your pliant plush body against his hard chest. Back pressed into his front, arms wrapped tightly around your thick waist. Placing a kiss to your shoulder, “I love to you Y/N, get some rest I’m far from through with you.”

Soft giggles vibrate into his chest, “Careful you’re getting old baby you sure you’ll have the stamina?” Toying with the fingers tapping against your tummy sending shivers cross your body.

Low growl accompanies the drag of his teeth over your sensitive skin, drawing a moan from your lips. Pressing his hips into your generous ass, “Give me an hour sweetheart and I’ll show you just how much stamina your man has.”

#Request #SPN Mixed Bingo Square #Hurt/Comfort #Dean Winchester x Plus Size Female Reader #Dean Winchester x Plus Size Fem!Reader #Dean Winchester x Plus Size F!Reader #Supernatural fiction

[pillage-and-lute]

An Ever Fixed Mark (Part 2)

Part 1, (here) Part 3, Part 4 , Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10,

Read it on Ao3 HERE

Just three days after the first installation and 4,000 words? That’s right baby! Because I run on validation and whew! Y’all provided.  The courting gift scene based on a recommendation from @tempered-char. Also with a hint of Geralt’s Delicate Sensibilities, as inspired by @valdomarx +Thicc Eskel as a bonus

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“Come in.”

It was soft, but not nervous, and Geralt pushed open the door.

Geralt wasn’t a romantic. He didn’t believe in love at first sight. From what he’d seen of the world he wasn’t so sure he believed in love at all. He could imagine, however, that if he were a painter or a poet he could have fallen in love right there.

The room was a tiny, dusty study, and standing in front of the window was, presumably, Julian. The light haloed him, dust mites floating down. Grey-blue doublet and slightly darker pants brought out clear, bright eyes, rimmed with thick lashes. 

He had a rounder jawline, the sort that was in style with painters at the moment. It leant a softness to his face. Maybe that was the fact that he was...nineteen? Geralt couldn’t remember.

He realized he was staring and bowed. It was awkard, still holding his gift and the gift from the countess. He looked up, Julian was smiling.

“It’s nice to meet you, Lord Julian,” Geralt said. “I am Geralt of Rivia.”

“The pleasure’s all mine, Geralt, and please, call me Jaskier,” said the young man. He stuck out his hand. Geralt quickly shifted the gifts to one hand and shook. 

The hand was soft but not uncalloused, at the fingertips and base of the thumb. Long fingers, good for playing the lute that sat, gleaming and well cared for, in the corner.

“Jaskier,” Geralt said, tasting the name. It was a good name, bright and pretty and a deadly poison if treated incorrectly. “I have a gift for you, and her ladyship gave me a gift but I haven’t opened it yet.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes and sat on a plush chair, gesturing Geralt to one opposite. “I have my own gift for you,” he said. “Father and Amaria didn’t think I could get my own courting gifts.”

Geralt decided to give up on subtlety. He wanted answers and he hoped this young man, Jaskier, was willing to give them.

“They want rid of you,” he said. It was a question but without the inflection at the end. “Enough to marry you off to a witcher.”

Jaskier sighed. “Just father, Amaria doesn’t have much to do with anything these days.”

“She seemed...” Geralt trailed off, not wanting to be disrespectful.

“It’s all about heirs,” Jaskier said, standing and beginning to pace. “Suitable heirs, which I’m not.” He sent Geralt a bitter little smile and flopped back down. “My father is not a nice man, you see. He’s never taken kindly to disagreements, and to him there’s only one ‘right’ sort of man. Men like him, manly and strong who kill first and don’t bother asking questions later. I questioned him, maybe three years ago, I didn’t think he should raise taxes again. He doesn’t forgive that sort of slight.” 

Jaskier leaned forward, elbows on knees and stared at the ground for a second.

“I think he’d decided long before that, but he wants me struck from the family tree.” Jaskier looked up at Geralt. Some of his confusion must have been showing on his face.

This world of heirs and court intrigue was far from anything Geralt knew, and seemed more complicated than necessary.

“Follow me,” Jaskier said, rising and stretching out his hand again. “You can leave the gifts, we’ll be back.” Geralt set dow the gifts and hesitantly stretched out his hand, unsure if the gesture was figurative or if he was actually supposed to take it. Jaskier took him gently by the wrist and led him from the room.

“The halls are a maze,” he said, letting go a coridor later. “Follow close behind me, you could get lost.” Geralt did so. He couldn’t imagine anything more embarassing than having a footman fetch him from one of these little stone tunnels.

They emerged in yet another dusty hall, lined with tapestries. Jaskier stopped in between two, and in front of a large, painted wooden panel. It had a tree.

A family tree. 

“My father,” Jaskier said, tracing his finger along dusty, painted branches. “Finds it very important that the next Earl be his direct blood, and also his kind of man.” He looked at Geralt significantly. “That meant ridding himself of Amaria’s sons from her first marriage, by the laws of our country, he could have been heir. That also means getting rid of me.”

This explanation did not help Geralt’s bafflement. Jaskier sighed again, although he didn’t seem to be doing so at Geralt.

“Amaria had two sons, both manly and well suited to my father, but not his direct blood. And they were older than me, set to inherit the role of Earl first. They met with horrible accidents.” A shadow passed of Jaskier’s boyish face. 

“Strange coincidence, how a large rock managed to tumble from the ramparts on to Isak not even a week after the same thing happened to Tomas. Especially since there’s not rocks up there. I checked.”

“Your father,” Geralt said, a little numbly. “Had his stepson’s murdered.” He knew nobility could be nasty but still... “And we’ve made a deal with him.”

Jaskier patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry too much about it, Father mostly doesn’t do too much harm these days, and Filip, that’s my half brother, seems like he’ll turn out okay. Then again, he’s only seven.”

“Is he going to have you killed?” Geralt asked, knowing as he did that the Earl was trying, by way of marrying Jaskier to him.

“Not exactly. I don’t know if it’s because I’m blood or just because another ‘accident’ would look suspicious, but there’s an easier way.” Jaskier pointed to a name circled in blue. “That’s my aunt Matylda, father’s older sister. She got married, which officially makes her part of her husband’s family tree, not ours, and she can no longer inherit,” Jaskier paused. “If she weren’t already a woman, I mean.”

“But we’re both men,” Geralt said. “I could just as easily become part of your family tree and then your father’s problem.”

“Yes,” Jaskier said, “In theory, but of course that isn’t how he played it. I’ll be an honorary witcher, and my name,” here he tapped some fine script. “Will be circled in blue and removed from the line.”

They both looked at the tree, looming darkly for a while. 

“I’m sorry,” Geralt offered, although he supposed it wasn’t worth much.

“I’m sorry too,” Jaskier said. “You shouldn’t be roped into all this.”

Geralt privately considered that, yes, while he would have preferred to avoid all this intrigue and politics, Jaskier didn’t seem too bad.

Jaskier led him back through the stone rabbit warren that made up the bowels of the castle.

“Is her ladyship...like that, because of the death of her sons?” Geralt asked when they paused at the top of a staircase. 

Jaskier cocked his head sadly, and then continued walking. Aftr a few more paced he said, “Yes, mostly. She wasn’t always...present, I suppose before but when they died so close together, and in such an awful way-- there’s nothing nice about a block of stone dropping on you from four stories up--something broke. She’s a nice lady, just happier living in her head, I think. Maybe she goes somewhere else, where her boys and her first husband are alive, I hope.”

They arrived back at the study without another word. 

They sat.

“I, um.” Geralt said. “Hmmm. I got you,” he proferred the package, not knowing what to say and begging Jaskier to save him from trying to figure it out. 

Jaskier took the package and pulled the string so that it fell open. The doublet slithered out. Vesemir had sent a letter asking for measurements as soon as Geralt had told him the idea.

“It’s basilisk leather,” Geralt said. “Witchers, um, our Path, it can be dangerous, so you should have this.”

Jaskier held up the fabric, watching the colors, deep blue and green, shift across the slick material. Privately, and for no reason Geralt could really guess at, he was very pleased, both that the doublet was in what seemed to be Jaskier’s colors, and also at the awe struck look on his face.

“It’s as light as silk,” Jaskier said, passing the fabric between his fingers. “And you said it’s leather?”

“Basilisk leather,” Geralt said. Monsters. They were talking about monsters, which he knew about. Thank the gods. “It’s like armor, and it won’t burn or get wet, water just runs off.”

“I didn’t know there was such a thing as basilisk leather,” Jaskier said, holding the doublet up. “Where did you get it? It’s incredible.”

Geralt coughed modestly, and tried not to puff his chest. “I killed the basilisk. Making the leather needs different skills than normal tanning, it’s more like potion making.” He remembered that most people knew little about witcher skills and needs. “All witchers know some alchemy, and we make potions for combat so I...I tanned it. My brother Lambert drew up the design, I don’t know much about clothes.”

The tailor had nearly cried when they’d presented him with the fabric, exclaiming about it’s luster and the ‘glorious smooth hand’, whatever that meant. 

Geralt watched Jaskier’s face anxiously. It wasn’t a courtly gift, no crown of pearls or whatever nobles expected, but it had taken him two months to turn the basilisk skin into leather. It would have taken him half the time but he’d had to do it on the road. Lambert had fussed about the design for almost a week too, and it had been Eskel’s idea to ask for the buttons to be little black pearls like that.

Vesemir had smiled at the team effort, calling it the wolves gift to their new pup.

Jaskier looked up at him, face like a sunbeam. 

“Can I try it on?”

Geralt just nodded, and looked away modestly as Jaskier divested himself of his previous doublet before buttoning the basilisk leather.

He twirled, and in the light from the window the fabric seemed to glow, shifting and turning with each movement. 

“And it really will keep me safe?” he asked, looking down at himself, beaming. 

Geralt nodded. “It would take a battle axe a dozen tries to pierce it.”

Jaskier smiled at him again, and it made Geralt’s stomach tingle, although he had eaten some suspect meat on the ride to Lettenhove. Then Jaskier threw his arms around his neck.

Geralt wasn’t old fashioned. He could move with the times, whatever Lambert said, but manners had been stiffer sixty years ago and Geralt was just thankful that Jaskier wouldn’t be able to see the tips of his ears going red.

“It’s beautiful,” Jaskier said, pulling back. “Thank you.”

Geralt shrugged uncomfortably. Jaskier smelled like soap and some sort of oil. Linseed maybe, probably for the wood of his lute.

“I have a gift for you, it’s not as lovely, but I hope you like it.”

Geralt carefully took the package. It was wrapped much prettier than his had been. “The countess already...”

“That was from her,” Jaskier said dismissively. “And maybe even from Father, although I doubt it, he wouldn’t waste money on me. But this gift is from me.” He sat forward eagerly. “Go on, open it.”

Geralt wasn’t about to refuse that eager, open expression, so he pulled at the ribbon, feeling rather like a bear trying to tie a shoelace.

The bright paper just fell away and there was a stiff paper box. He opened that too. 

Three glass bottles sat inside, nestled in paper. The paper was only there to keep them from clinking because as he pulled one out he saw the telltale dark sheen.

Brimstone glass. It was unbreakable. Sometimes witchers carried their more noxious potions in it but rarely, it was frighteningly expensive, usually only mages could afford it.

“How?” he said. How did you afford it? How did you know it existed? Did you know witchers use potions? He looked up at Jaskier, who looked nervous.

“Are they alright?” he said. “Only I won them off a sorceror in a pub. He told me they were indestructible and threw one at the ground to prove it. I thought they’d be useful...Was it a trick?” He looked so upset at the prospect.

“These, Geralt said, “Are Brimstone Glass, they are indeed indestructible and very, very useful.” Jaskier’s face split into a grin again. 

“Thank you,” Geralt said. It didn’t seem like enough, but if he hugged the lad like Jaskier had him he would kill him.

“Should I open the box from the countess?”

“Do,” Jaskier said. “I want to know what it is.”

The latch flicked easily under Geralt’s hand and the lid popped open.

Jaskier gasped.

“It’s my mother’s ring,” he said. “I don’t remember her well, but I remember her hands...”

It was a beautiful ring, opal, if Geralt was any judge, but Eskel knew stones better than him. Silver wound around the stone, with smaller gems studding the setting to either side. 

“I will use it in the ceremony,” Geralt said, offering it to Jaskier. “If it fits.”

“It won’t fit,” Jaskier said sadly. “Mother had very small hands, but it’s a nice thought.”

Geralt looked at the ring and Jaskier’s left hand. “Try it?”

Jaskier did, sliding the ring onto his finger easily. He looked at it in amazement.

“Amaria must have had it enlarged,” he said.

“A good gift,” Geralt said, although not sure who the gift was really for.

There came a polite knock at the door, interupting the moment, whatever sort of moment it was.

“My lord, it is time for supper.”

Damn. 

Jaskier slipped the ring back into the box and Geralt looked away as he changed into his regular doublet. He didn’t look away fast enough and caught a scandalous glimpse of collarbone and soft chest hair where the chemise got pulled down a little. The air felt a little stuffy suddenly.

The gifts, and Geralt was proud to see that Jaskier folded the doublet carefully back into the paper, although nothing could have harmed it, were handed to a footman to be taken back to their respective rooms.Geralt offered Jaskier his arm, like he’d seen the nobility do, and then Jaskier led him to the dining hall.

To his relief, the hall wasn’t packed. They were what Lambert would call ‘fashionably late’ (and what Vesemir would call a reason for three extra laps) and all the guests were seated. A table held Lady Amaria and a man who must be the Earl, although there was little visible resemblance to Jaskier. They were seated with perhap half a dozen other nobles, as well as a red headed boy of about seven, Filip, probably, who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. There was another table of presumably more minor nobility, and then a small table with the wolves, two seats still empty.

All eyes turned to look at the pair. Jaskier bowed deeply, and since his arm was still linked with Geralt’s he was made to bow too, or else risk having his arm pulled from its socket. Then they made their way to the smallest table.

Geralt pulled out Jaskier’s chair for him and saw Vesemir’s approving nod, as well as Lambert’s smirk. He didn’t see the swift kick Eskel delivered below the table, but caught the way Lambert’s eyes watered suddenly, and smiled at his brother in thanks for the retribution. Then he sat.

“Julian,” Vesemir said, reaching over the table to shake hands. “I am Vesemir, Geralt’s teacher. It is a pleasure to meet you.” 

“I am happy to make your aquaintance, Master Vesemir,” Jaskier said, and Geralt was impressed that he only winced a little bit as Vesemir inadvertently crushed his knuckles in a grip that could moor a boat. He did, however, gently shake out his fingers under the table once he’d been released.

“If you please, however,” Jaskier continued as if nothing had happened. “I prefer my nickname, Jaskier.”

“Jaskier it is, then,” Vesemir said, moustache twitching up at the corners. Geralt suspected he was thinking the same as he had done. Buttercups, pretty and poisonous.

“You were educated at Oxenfurt, is that correct?” Eskel said.

“Yes, in the fine arts, although I specialized in music composition and lute performance. I didn’t catch your name...?” The most delicate question mark was added to the end of the statement. Eskel blushed, Jaskier wouldn’t know it, but Geralt could see the back of his neck reddening.

“Eskel,” he said quickly. “And the asshole who’s snickering is Lambert.”

Jaskier didn’t look even a little intimidated by either of Geralt’s brothers, which was impressive, because Lambert could scowl like it was a contest and Eskel, although only an inch taller than Geralt, was naturally hugely muscled in a way even the mutagens hadn’t managed for Geralt. His chest and arms looked like they’d withstand a siege weapon.

Jaskier turned a smile on Lambert, who was sputtering indignantly at Eskel’s entirely fair description.

“I’m told you helped with my beautiful courting gift,” he said. Then he turned the smile on all of the wolves. “A team effort I imagine.” 

This stunned all three brothers, and made Vesemir smile. Lambert shrugged uncomfortably. For all his prickliness, he couldn’t take a compliment. 

“Eskel’s idea for the buttons,” he muttered, and Geralt knew he’d been entirely won over.

“The buttons are beautiful,” Jaskier said, smiling warmly at Eskel now, who looked like he’d rather be facing a mountain troll. 

“Was Vesemir that got your measurements,” he said, looking down at the tablecloth. Jaskier beamed at the whole table then.

“Truly a team effort, thank you all, it’s beautiful and I cannot wait to wear it.” With that the whole table was well and truly won over by Jaskier. Geralt couldn’t help but brag a little.

“Jaskier gave me Brimstone Glass bottles as a courting gift,” he said, and preened slightly under the others’ slightly jealous noises of amazement. Jaskier flushed a very pretty pink. 

“I just thought they’d be useful,” he said, although his smile was pleased.

Serving girls entered the hall with trays and the chatter in the hall expanded excitedly. A plump young woman set a tray down at their table and Eskel hummed in appreciation.

“It smells delicious,” he said. She smiled at him, looked him up and down, and then winked.

“Oh doesn’t it just, I could just eat it all up,” she said, not looking at the food even as she lifted the cloche from the appetizers. Then she winked and disappeared back into the kitchen. Another girl appeared and filled the goblets but the witchers hardly noticed for laughing at Eskel’s face.

“Seems Mabel took a liking to you,” Jaskier said, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. Through his own laughter, Geralt watched Jaskier’s father glaring at their table. Good. The old fuck could choke on it, he didn’t look like he’d ever laughed a day in his life. 

“Careful though,” Jaskier was saying. “She looked ready to take a bite out of you.”

“But,” Eskel gestured, baffled to his face.

“Oh pish,” Jaskier said, taking a swig of wine. “Nobody cares about that sort of thing, do they? Plenty of ladies around here like a few scars, makes men look rugged and dangerous.”

“Rugged?” Eskel rubbed his hand over his face, contemplating. 

“Definitely,” said Jaskier, nodding. He took one of the appetizers. Geralt moved a few to his own plate and slowly their little table descended into a quiet contentment. The appetizers were good, hors d'oeuvres , Geralt remembered Lambert telling him once. They were little bits of paste, meat and vegetable mostly, inside pastry casings.

He smiled when he noticed that he and his brothers were all looking between Jaskier and Vesemir to make sure they hadn’t missed any manners. Eskel swiped Lambert’s elbows off the table.

Eventually the appetizers were replaced with soup. The saucy kitchen girl, Mabel, Jaskier had called her, made a positively salacious remark to Eskel. Something daring about him licking everything clean. Eskel smiled faintly and turned redder than the beet soup.

“You should flirt back,” Jaskier said, once Mabel was gone. “If you’re actually interested, I mean.”

“It’s not that I’m not. Interested I mean,” Eskel squeaked. “But I can’t offer her anything, no marriage or security.”

Jaskier looked at him. It was definitely a look, although not a nasty one. “She asked you to lick her clean and you think that was an invitation to marriage?”

“I wouldn’t want to defile...”

“Oh shut up Eskel, sex doesn’t defile anything. It’s natural and normal and if you think it some how ‘decreases the value’ of a woman than you aren’t the man I thought you to be.” Lambert cut in. “Have some fun, maybe she can remove the stick you’ve lodged up your ass.”

“You’re right, of course,” Eskel said. But now Jaskier was looking worried.

“It won’t be a problem, right?” he asked Geralt. “That I’m not, um a virgin, I mean?”

“No,” Geralt said, probably missing the mark on reassuring, but doing his best. “Unless you mind that I’m not one either. And there is no fidelity clause, and no consummation, you needn’t sleep with me, and you’re free to see other people.”

Jaskier looked at first relieved and then impish, licking the soup from his spoon in a way that made significant parts of Geralt’s brain go numb. “I dunno,” he said, leaning towards Geralt and bumping him with a shoulder. “I can’t imagine consumation with you would be such a chore.”

Melitele’s great gauzy veil, this boy would be the death of him.

There was a pause between soup and the main course, but when Mabel picked up the dishes Eskel leaned towards her and asked if he’d licked it clean enough, to the woman’s obvious approval.

They sat and chatted, Jaskier, Eskel, and Vesemir debated over some old literature that Geralt had never heard of, and then they were interuppted with a cough.

The earl stood, face like stone, beside their table. 

They rose. Vesemir bowed.

“My Lord,” he said. “It is a pleasure to make your aquaintance. I am Vesemir, of the school of the wolf.”

Lord Pankratz inclined his head. “Greetings, Master Vesemir,” he said. “I wish to discuss some of the terms of the contract with you.”

He snapped his fingers and a footman brought him a chair, without waiting for Vesemir’s response.

The wolves sat, feeling wary. Jaskier was looking down at his hands, shoulders shrunk in.

They sat in suspense as Vesemir and Lord Pankratz hashed out details of the legal protections. The main course appeared and the earl stood, and bowed.

“Why don’t we continue this after desert,” he said, smiling smoothly. And it was a very smooth smile. Like an oil slick.

Dinner after that was subdued, despite Eskel returning Mabel’s flirtations. Jaskier looked down at his plate most of the time and the witchers picked up on his unease.

“What’s wrong, Jaskier?” Geralt whispered.

“I don’t know, but he’s planning something, and I don’t like it.”

Then coffee was served after dessert, and the Earl de Lettenhove sat at their table again. 

“Now, for what I really wanted to discuss, I know political marriages can be...challenging,” the earl said in a voice like a snake. “But I wanted to make it clear, should either member express a wish to anul the marriage, the contract will become void.” Here he squeezed Jaskier’s shoulder so hard he winced. “I couldn’t bear for my dear Julian to be unhappy, you see. He’s high maintainance I know, but I wish him the best.”

The earl smiled a despicable little smile. “Now, I think you two shouldn’t really see more of each other before the wedding, yes? Bad luck and all.”

The earl then hauled Jaskier away by his collar.

“What a cunt,” Lambert said.

“I figured that was in the contract anyway,” Geralt said. “Isn’t that normally how it works?”

Vesemir nodded. “Indeed, it’s how these marriages go. But I expect the earl is betting that the two of you wont be able to stand eachother, and so he gets rid of his son and doesn’t have to help witchers all in one go.”

“Yes, Jaskier explained things.”

And then Geralt told his family what Jaskier had told him. The suspicious accidents, the laws, the family tree.

“I agree with Lambert,” Eskel said. “What a gigantic fucking cunt.”

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What’s with my thing about clothing descriptions and fancy cloth? I’m a fashion design major, that’s what. 

We’ve got answers about Amaria, and the reason for the engagement, but what’s the wedding going to be like? oooh, cliffhanger, but not too much so I hope it makes up for last time when I was so bad to you all.

Tag List!  @llamasdumpsterfire @stinastar @aziz-the-fangirl @mordoriscalling @bastardofmothman @negativenuggetz @morte-mistrata  @hayleynzlive @filledepluie @bygodstillam@sociowithatardisachevyandawand @faery-god @honeysuckletook @theflurtifly @saibowtie @werevampiwolf @frywen-babbles @the-kewlest@innocentbi-stander @1stbonesfan @aqueenrisesintheeast  @marauders-fan-account @ineffable-lasagna 

@ailorian @toothhurtyam I’m having trouble adding you, I can’t tag if this is a password protected side blog or if you have Allow Blog to Appear in Search Results off, I think. 

#geraskier #the witcher #arranged marriage #arranged marriage au #its part two y'all #and the earl is a slimy sob

[berriusagi]

Stomach Bug Ch4

Afternoon Date

It has been a minute, hasn’t it? Sorry for making you guys wait for the next chapter I hope you like this one too. Love the support and the kind comments.

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Marinette and Damian were lucky when it came to their schedules as their classes ended roughly around the same time; making it easier for them to plan their dates during the week so they could get as much time together as possible. The following days after the announcement at Wayne manor the teens spent as much time around each other as they could. Though they did have to sneak around the family for privacy and keep a low profile to not raise any suspicion from the media.

The perks of having a well-known designer as your significant other made it incredibly easy for them to be able to hide in plain sight. Only proven by the fact both were sitting in a small coffee shop enjoying some pastries and hot chocolate as everyone around them was none the wiser of just who was in their presence.

“I’ll never understand how you do it.” Damian chuckled softly as he sipped on his drink looking around the coffee shop as Marinette just giggled.

“You have a very specific style. It's how people pick you out, change the style and they’ll be none the wiser.” she smiled before leaning in to whisper, “average people aren’t that perceptive that’s how heroes like Superman and the Green Arrow can blend in so easily outside of the costume. They don’t see faces, they see the clothing or anything ‘off’ about them.”

“Makes sense,” he nodded relaxing back in the booth wrapping an arm around her shoulders as she settled in sipping on her hot chocolate, “Is that how you figured me out so quickly? You looked at the face, not the clothes?” he hummed rubbing her arm.

“Actually for the first three months all I did was look at the clothes because they are an affront to fashion.” she giggled, “I get that its tradition but did it have to be so garish? Did you have to use the brightest colors for the darkest and gothic city in America? It’s like you want to get shot,” she said rolling her eyes.

“I think it had more to do with Batman wanting to keep track of a small child in dark alleyways, bright colors stand out more.” Damian chuckled.

Marinette hummed seeming to accept that answer as she finished her pastry and hot chocolate. They fell into a comfortable silence just enjoying each other’s company cuddling together. “It’s getting close to the holidays. Is there anything you or your family want?” she asked.

Damian thought about it for a moment trying to think of anything his family mentioned wanting in the past few weeks. “Hmm, I remember Todd saying something about his leather jacket getting too worn, I think Drake could use a new sweater too. It's looking a bit threadbare. Grayson hasn’t complained about anything specific and since he doesn’t live in the Manor I can’t exactly look through all his clothes. Father and Pennyworth I’m not too sure on.” he said after a long stretch of silence.

“What about you? Anything special you want?” she smiled looking up at him.

“I’ll be happy with whatever it is you choose to give me.” he smiled leaning down to kiss her gently on the forehead, “You’re already giving me the best present,” he added, placing a gentle hand over her belly.

Marinette giggled a soft blush settling across her cheeks; “I would have never pegged you as a sappy dad.” she smiled holding his hand over her belly, “It’s so unlike you.”

He shrugged a soft pink dusting his face, “I’m just excited.” he mumbled.

She smiled softly leaning up to kiss his cheek, “I know you are, how about we head out and can go window shopping at a few stores to get an idea of what all we’ll need.”

“That sounds like a great idea.” he nodded, getting out of the booth taking her hand to help her stand. Once she was on her feet he wrapped an arm loosely around her waist and guided her out of the shop and onto the busy street. They steered clear of any overpopulated areas not wanting to risk anyone recognizing Damian, as well as any alleyways not wanting to mugged or jumped.

They took their time making their way to the shopping district talking quietly to each other about their plans for the following weeks. Marinette was slowly losing her mind with her commissions that seemed to get more and more complicated with less and less time between each to finish. Damian was adamant to claim his brothers were driving him up the wall now that they knew about Marinette making his desire to stab them all that stronger. Though he’d never admit he liked that his family welcomed Marinette so readily.

“What are you hoping for?” Marinette asked as they looked in the shop window at some baby clothes. There were an array of items from over the top frilly dresses full of ruffles and lace to make it obvious to anyone that the child wearing it was meant to be a little princess. While on the other side were little onesies with cheesy sayings and cute art printed on them causing the people passing by to coo and laugh at the phrases pointing them out to their friends and partners.

“A healthy child,” Damian said, hugging her gently to his side, “I don’t care about the gender so long as they are healthy and I have you by my side,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss her gently on her cheek.

Marinette blushed though and was smiling brightly as she buried her face into his chest breathing deeply as she soaked up all the warmth and love he was showering her in. “I feel the same,” she mumbled before pulling him away from the clothing store to head into a shop to look at other supplies and furniture they’d need.

They lost hours in the department store as they looked over different strollers, beds, changing tables, anything and everything marketed for a baby. They took their time looking it over and comparing the items until they had a solid idea of just what it was they needed. “I want everything to be neutral in color,” she mumbled as they were looking at some toys.

“Hm?” Damian asked, holding up a green rabbit plush testing how soft it was.

“I don’t want anything too gender-specific you know I don’t want everything pink, as much as I love the color or blue. I think it should be a neutral color or a variety of colors so we’re not forcing our kid in just one color.” She said picking up some blankets gently running her fingers over the soft fleece.

“We could always get everything in robin colors.” Damian joked.

“I will divorce you.” Marinette deadpanned looking up at him.

“Ouch okay no robin colors.” he chuckled, setting the toy rabbit down and hugged her, “we have plenty of time to decide on the colors, but I do agree we won’t use pink or blue it’s been overdone quite a bit.” he nodded.

She nodded as they left the baby aisle and started to head towards the front. Once they were back out on the street the sky was beginning to darken quite a bit. “It’s getting late. I should head home and pack, Mum said she’d bring me by the manor after dinner.”

“I’ll walk you home and make sure the room Pennyworth set up is suitable for you.” he nodded guiding her down the street. “Will you be bringing any of your projects along?” he asked as he helped her cross the street.

“I’ll probably bring the quilt I’m working on and the jacket Uncle Jagged commissioned.” she hummed as they made their way towards her apartment. “I’m almost done with the jacket and I want to get a few more squares done on the quilt before Monday,” she added.

He nodded as they fell into a comfortable silence and continued to walk, keeping close to each other so as not to get separated in the crowds. Once they reached Marinette’s apartment building she pulled away and smiled up at Damian, “I’ll see you after dinner have a safe trip home.” she said getting up on her tippy toes to kiss him.

“You have a nice dinner and pack some warm pajamas. The manor can get a bit drafty at night,” he warned, kissing her back. He smiled and waited until she was inside the building and in the elevator to take her to her floor before he turned on his heels and began to head home.

He was only able to pass a few blocks before ducking into an alleyway and crossed his arms waiting as someone landed behind him. “Really? You tailed us the whole time we were out?” he deadpanned turning to face Nightwing.

Nightwing just crossed his arms looking away with a slight pout, “I just wanted to make sure she was okay.” he said, “you were walking around in broad daylight anyone could have seen you two.”

“You’re lucky she didn’t notice you, how would I have explained why a vigilante was following us? When the sun is up leave us alone if she’s out after dark feel free to tail her if she’s not with me.” he said glaring at him, “She doesn’t need the added stress and doesn’t need to be looking over her shoulder every few blocks because she saw someone following her.”

Nightwing sighed rolling his head, “Fine I won’t but I can’t say anything for the others.” he said before sending up a grapple and whisking himself away.

Damian sighed, rubbing his temples, “They’re going to scare her off I just know it.” he muttered heading out of the alleyway and continued his trek home.

~.~.~.~

“Marigold are you ready?” Ivy asked after cleaning up the kitchen from their dinner. She knocked on the door before opening it slowly as she peered in to see Marinette attempting to shove her sewing machine into her bag. “Marigold I think the sewing machine can stay here.” she chuckled walking in grabbing the machine from her hands and set it back on the table.

“I have projects I need to finish though.” Marinette groaned looking at the fabric squares for the quilt and jacket she had packed in another bag.

“You and I both know all that’s left for the jacket is minor touch-ups. You can hand sew it and you’d been hand sewing that quilt all week so you don’t need the machine.” Ivy said leaning on the desk, “Besides you’re going to be with the Wayne’s for the weekend instead of working on your projects why don’t you take a break and get to know them?”

“I just want to finish Uncle Jagged’s jacket. I already closed down the site and won’t be reopening it until new years. I’ll take a break when all my projects are done and have been shipped out.” she said trying to get around Ivy to get the sewing machine.

“Marigold I said no sewing machine.” Ivy said blocking her, “you shouldn’t be carrying it back and forth anyways. I’m sure you just mentioned in passing you needed a sewing machine while in that manor you’ll have one before the end of the day.”

“Mum! That would be manipulative!” Marinette gasped appalled at her mother’s suggestion.

Ivy sighed, gently taking hold of Marinette’s face and leaned down to be eye level with her, “it’s not manipulative. You could just ask Bruce or Damian if they had one if not and you don’t want to use their money then convince Damian to join you to buy yourself a sewing machine that can stay at the manor.” She said gently, kissing her forehead.

Marinette pouted, bowing her head, “so no sewing machine?” she said eyeing the trusty machine she brought from Paris when she moved.

“‘Fraid, not kiddo now finish packing up Harls will be back from walking Bud and Lou any moment then we’re heading over to the manor to drop you off.” Ivy chuckled patting her back as she left the room to let Marinette finish packing for the weekend.

~.~.~.~

The Wayne Manor was in a state of chaos as the occupants prepared for the arrival of their weekend guest. Bruce watched on with a type of exhausted fondness that only a single parent possesses as they watch their children make complete fools of themselves. Beside him was Tim his second youngest who was nursing yet another large mug of coffee the bags under his eyes deeper and darker than the waters of the Mariana Trench. “At least they’re excited?” Bruce muttered watching on as Jason and Dick continued to argue about what they’d learned about Marinette in the last week through means of tailing her and digging up her past.

“They’re going to scare her off.” Damian deadpanned standing beside Bruce on the other side of him watching the two eldest argue looking as if they were going to physically fight.

“No offense but if she didn’t run for the hills after meeting you I think she’ll be able to handle them.” Tim yawned as he took a long drink from his coffee as there was a soft knocking at the door.

Alfred easily walked past the fighting siblings and went right for the front door opening it to reveal the Isley-Quinzels, “Pleasure to see you again Miss. Marinette.” Alfred nodded stepping aside to allow her to enter carrying with her two large bags.

“Sorry to intrude,” Marinette said as Damian rushed overtaking one of her bags off her arm.

“Nonsense you’re always welcome here.” Alfred smiled and looked at the two women, “would you like to come in?”

“Nah we got plans we’ll be back Sunday to pick you up, Marigold.” Harley smiled hugging Marinette, giving her a big kiss on her cheek as Ivy stepped in to give her a kiss and hug goodbye.

“Try to relax this weekend,” Ivy said patting her back, “You lot treat her well or I’ll make you into fertilizer.”

“She’s in good hands Ivy you two have a nice weekend,” Bruce said, nodding his head to the women. Harley and Ivy nodded and blew Marinette a few more kisses before they made their leave after Alfred closed the door.

“I’ll show you to your room Habibti,” Damian said, taking her bags and making a point to ignore his family watching him as he guided Marinette away and up the stairs to the room Alfred prepared for her.

Once they were out of earshot of the rest of the family Marinette looked up at Damian with a raised eyebrow, “You’re not putting me in the room Alfred prepared are you?” she asked following him.

“No, you’ll be in my room so I can keep an eye on you.” He said leaning down to kiss her as he pushed open his bedroom door and carried her bags in. “You need to sleep a reasonable amount and I know you sleep better when you’re warm and this way I can make sure you’re warm.”

“Just say you want to cuddle.” Marinette giggled sitting on his bed as he went about putting her clothes away and setting her sewing projects on his desk. She smiled watching him move with such familiarity as if this was a daily occurrence for them. As she relaxed on the bed a comforting weight settled across her lap. Looking down she saw a tuxedo cat lounging across her legs purring loudly and quite content.

Marinette smiled reaching down and gently started to run her fingers through the fur, “You must be Alfred.” She smiled gently scratching behind the cat's ears. She was so occupied with petting the cat on her lap she barely noticed the weight of another animal climbing onto the bed and curled up behind her. She turned and looked smiling at the large Great Dane she leaned back resting her head on the dog’s side reaching up and started petting him with her free hand, “You must be Titus.” She giggled as Alfred the Cat crawled up to rest on her chest.

Marinette was content to relax on the bed cuddling with the animals when she felt another weight settle on her lap and looked down to see a turkey perched on her legs watching her. “Hello, Jerry.” She giggled, stopping her petting of the cat and dog to reach down and begin gently stroking the turkey’s feathers. She alternated between the three animals trying not to make any feel left out as she pet them soon dozing off from all the warmth and comfort the animals provided.

Damian found her passed out on his bed, one hand resting on Jerry’s back and the other reaching back to scratch Titus’ ears. He huffed out a soft laugh looking over the scene before pulling his phone out quickly taking a picture before shooing Jerry and Alfred off her so he could get her in bed and into a more comfortable position. “Good job everyone,” he whispered to his pets as he took her boots off and gently took her hair out of her pigtails before tucking her into bed.

Once she was comfortably curled up under the blankets he pulled back and laid out some pajamas on the nightstand closest to Marinette in case she woke up long enough to change and set about getting into his pajamas and turned off all the lights before climbing into bed and pulled her to his chest relaxing back. “Good night habibti.” He mumbled, kissing her forehead.

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@myazael @beautiful-disasters-sunshine @moonlightstar64 @moonlitceleste @stainedglassm  @casual-darkness @mochegato @ultimatetornshipper @heemsanddamemes @nathleigh @qualitypeacepainter @raven-frost-21 @maskedpainter @demonicbusiness @dood-space @trippingovermyfeet @emimar7 @indecisive-mess-named-me @changelinggarden @zerotosiki @alysrose-starchild @s-and-n @wolf2118 @athena452 @jjmjjktth

#daminette #damianette #damidad #mominette #maribat #maridami #ml x dc #teen pregnancy #stomach bug

[phoenix-manga]

The Real Idols at VDC

Everyone was excited for the VDC, people who work in the media gathered at the purple stage venue to get a shot of two of the most popular models in Twisted Wonderland. The blonde -haired young man known for his beautiful yet professional attitude, Vil Schoenheit, and the black-haired boy with an adorable face that was rising in the ranks, Neige Leblanche.

The VDC was a one in a million for fans of both males, they were waiting to see what they will bring to the stage. The media only focused on those two, leaving the other participants in the shadows.

But maybe that’s a good thing, this way NRC and RSA will get the shock of their lives when certain students from an academy far off in the mountains would come and steal the spotlight from both of them.

A young lady with dark blue hair, tied in side ponytail with a feathered-crown, wearing a red, blue and yellow uniform was walking to the venue for rehearsals alongside another girl with short pinkish hair, she wore a ribbon with a crown on her head and wore a teal and dark green uniform. From around them, she kept hearing people gushing about who was going to win between Neige and Vil. With a frustrated sigh she looks at the colosseum with a look of mild annoyance.

Evonie: NRC and RSA really sure do love hogging the spotlight… I can barely remember the names of the other schools competing!

But I guess that’s just the reality of media… even though our school is a pro at these contests, people didn’t even mention DCA at all…

Allison: You sure are getting pumped up for the championship, aren’t yah Ev? Chill out, it’s not like it’s any different from our usual idol concerts at campus

It was an attempt at cooling down her dark-haired companion but it just made her more determined. As a student who was known for singing and dancing, it was expected for them to be kind of miffed if the people forget their school. But in Evonie’s case, being someone who held a seat as a top idol in DCA might have been a good reason.

The two reach the venue and shows a staff their stage pass, Allison can faintly hear the music from the person currently rehearsing. Everyone backstage was busy hyping themselves up for the competition, the sight alone sparks the Evonie’s competitive spirit.

She’ll make sure that the audience will know who the stage truly belongs to. When the person’s performance ended, a staff called their school, signaling that it was their turn to go on stage. Allison follows Evonie as they go towards the open stage onto an eager crowd.

Announcer: Next performer from Diamond Crown Academy, please enter the stage

Student A: Diamond Crown Academy?... That’s the all-girls school, right?

Student B: I know that school! That school is famous for the idol competitions on and off campus!

Student C: My sister was obsessed with one of the students of that school!

Student D: How could you not know DCA? They had a joint school festival for RSA and NRC! I was there!

The crowd was filled with murmurs and eventually they reached the ears of the NRC team. The first years held confused looks while their seniors were used to the murmuring around them, as if it was normal. From the looks of it, they seem to recognize one of the girls, Vil and Rook that is. Epel piped up and asked Rook what was the fuss all about.

Rook: DCA is an all-girls academy, although not as famous as RSA and NRC, they have an excellent reputation. The one thing that they’re famous for is their idol competitions… and it looks like we will be able to witness a spectacular show

I especially can’t wait to see how princess de pommes and lapin fougueux perform~ Her gaze carries an eternal fire, beaute!

Deuce: I haven’t heard of DCA… this is my first time hearing about them

Jamil: You freshmen only know about NRC and RSA… of course you wouldn’t know about that school…

Kalim: We know someone from that school! She’s a prin-

Jamil: You’re gonna start babbling, so shut it…

Ace: Are they really that good? Seems too good to be true, no one has said anything about DCA until now

Vil: Such uncultured potatoes, you don’t understand the standards of that academy… A variety of educational fields as well as the idol training is the hot topic amongst the girls back in Pyroxene. Although we are focused on taking down RSA’s representative, don’t underestimate them either

And the reason why we haven’t heard anything is because the audience was too busy talking about the battle between NRC and RSA, but there have been mentions of DCA in magicam.

Ace: I-Is that so?...

Rook: You’ll understand once you find out for yourself!

Vil isn’t one to give empty praises, they now know that DCA is something to consider. The first years decided to look to the stage, they will see what Vil meant when the students of DCA don’t joke around when it comes to contests like the VDC.

Announcer: Representative of Diamond Crown Academy will be performing an original song… Eternally Flickering Flame, please begin rehearsal!

The music started off with a loud blast of rock followed by a gothic symphony that captured everyone’s attention, Evonie sings the first lyrics with a loud yet harmonic tune, her movements are graceful with a hint of aggression.

When it was Allison’s turn to sing, she sang with so much energy and her dance, although not as graceful, was very cheerful and all over the place that made some of the people watching tap to the rhythm.

At the two of them were synchronized in their dance and their voices, although were a contrast, created a pleasing harmony. The first years were watching with wide-eyes, no wonder Vil said that they were not to be underestimated. They thought back to their strict training during the past weeks and they wondered how hard these girls trained to be able to give this performance.

It was already hard to sing and dance, but putting magic into the mix? That’s a new level of intensity.

Epel: I… can’t look away!

Deuce: They’re casting magic?! Usually, its at the end of the performance, but here they’re using it throughout the song!

Rook: You are yet to see the main event, mon ami~

At the climax of the song, Evonie and Allison’s rings glowed red and light blue as an orb of light went up the sky and a burst of magic created an illusion of a gloomy forest with black rabbits and flying bats around a silhouette of a crescent moon.

When a chime of a clock was heard, the illusion shatters the moon and it dissolves into the scenery to turn the dark colors of the forest into a red background of crystals and gemstones with black thorns growing from the ground.

They finish the song with a pose with the illusion around them creating an outstanding finish.

The crowd didn’t expect the use of magic to create effects, but it was mesmerizing to look at, all eyes were on them, faces in awe and mouths agape. When their performance ended and the illusion faded, a loud applause fills the venue as students cheered.

TV Staff: That performance gave me goosebumps!

Audience: Seems like DCA is going all out today, huh?

I thought the other performances were good but damn, DCA goes all out!

They’d win for sure!

Neige and Vil will be performing too, but I can’t help but admire DCA’s performance!

Evonie felt proud for some of the comments she hears as her and Allison exit the stage. As soon as every participant was done with rehearsals, the two decided to head to the food booth for a light snack before the performance. Evonie was quietly assessing the choices and thinking deeply on which would be better to eat and won’t make her feel like throwing up when she performs, while Allison was chewing on a chocolate bar.

Evonie was unaware of a small presence behind her until something grabbed her hand, she was startled by the sudden touch and looked to her side only to see one of the dwarves from the rehearsals. “Toby” was what his name was, looking at her with his goofy grin and asymmetric, purple hair.

Toby: Miss Evonie! Timmy is a huge fan of yours, and so am I! The flashy magic you put on stage was super cool!”

Timmy: T-Toby! Don’t rush at her like th-that! And why’d you have to tell her that I’m a fan?! So, embarrassing!!!!

Evonie was frozen, not in fear but in restraint. The dwarves were so cute and she was tempted to pick them up and hold them close to her like a plush. But that would be rude because they’re college students and they are NOT children even if they look like one. Allison was snickering and greeted the dwarves too.

Allison: Aww, Ev, you got a fan!

Evonie: I-I… uhh!

Toby still held her hand and was looking up at her with his doe eyes, it took almost all of her self-restraint to act professional with the dwarf.

Evonie: I-it’s an honor that you like my performances, I am thankful!

Toby: I’ve seen you in that one play about the six queens too! You looked so pretty! Do you wanna come with us to see our other friends? Dominic and the others saw your work too, oh but Gran is not into idols that much…

Timmy: T-Toby! We shouldn’t impose on her and besides, w-we need to stick together! M-Miss Evonie, it was nice meeting you but we need to leave!

Timmy grabs ahold of Toby who was pouting along the way as the two scampered off into the crowd, leaving Evonie behind. Evonie takes a deep breath while Allison looks at the crowd before facing her.

Allison: I don’t see any of my fans… boohoo, quit stealing all my potential fan members!

Evonie: If you had been taking the time to actually participate in SOME venues then you might have had one…

Allison: It isn’t my fault most of the performances they want is girly!

While they were bickering, they don’t notice a grim fight against an overblotted dorm leader was taking place in the colosseum.

[END]

#phnx #dca stories #dca #diamond crown academy #twst oc #twisted wonderland #vil schoenheit #rook hunt #ace trappola #deuce spade #jamil viper #kalim al asim #epel felmier #toby #timmy #rsa #royal sword academy

[filypadreams]

Fleeting Touches

( Asmodeus x GN!MC)

Synopsis: Do you know what fleeting means? It means you should apreciate every moment while you can. Even if you get lost in illusions for it.

TW: Slight angst

_______________________________

The streets were full this time of the year, even with the cold weather. It was a race for most humans to get that last minute gift for that special someone.

Their children, parents, grandparents or significant others. For some reason it's tradition to get that one person a last minute present.

And that's always a disaster...

" Calvin Klein One... with bergamot, cardamom, pineapple and jasmin. Tropical? Or maybe Dolce & Gabanna Velvet Exotic Leather. Traditional and italian... also at good prices, I need to ask if they are antiallergenic! "

I spend 15 minutes on the line but get both perfumes and walk outside onto the sunny street. It's not as busy as the mall and I really should get home before it gets to close to one pm.

Today, faces are a blur to me.

" Thanks for the tip Asmo, I was sick of the strong scents of women perfumes and the always down to earth male ones~"

I cheerfully speak to myself while touching the 'tattoo' above my left breast.

It's a one-way communication system. I'm not even sure Asmodeus hears what I tell him but I sure do hear his thoughts.

" Ohhh, bootie alert at 12! No, wait! Delicious curves at 4- oohh...that's a mix at 9 o'clock~!"

I see a man, woman, I think the last one is in mid transitioning but I'm not sure.

" He'll be a beautiful man, I'm 95% sure!"

" Maybe it's a 'they'... not that you can hear me."

Though I agree, they look...handsome. With a nice physique, curly shoulder lenght hair, smooth skin as if rivalling Asmos' ... and who can resist a dark biker leather jacket?!

No, stop. Don't let the mark influence you from your mission MC!

Setting the christmas gifts.

I start running in the direction of the bus station when I collide with a tall lady, her black shades falling to the ground from her beautiful light pink sweater.

My head hurts. It felt like hitting a brick wall...or Beel.

Are my only thoughts as I scramble to pick her glasses and my shopping bag. Good thing it was well packed.

"Oh my~ I'm so sorry, I didn't notice such a beautiful face in this crowd. I was retoutching my eyeliner, huhu! Let me help~"

The lady crouches down next to me. I notice from the corner of my eyes that she is also wearing a black turtle neck... and has peach coloured hair...

" Asmo?!"

Darkness. A cold hand covers my eyes while the other takes the shades from mine and exchanges them with my bags...it seems. He whispers is my ear.

" Now, now. Don't ruin the surprise! I'm just a beautiful 'lady'. Hahaha."

And with that he dissapears. Everything seems to dissapear, as soon it gets dark and I'm sitted in my couch, replaying today's event.

It felt so real... I called him a lady.

Well... I don't think Asmodeus minds.

I walk around the tree, putting down colorfully wrapped gifts. That I went purposely to markets and malls to have wrapped!

Diavolo better play Santa and give me some grimm if I ever get an invite to Devildom, I blew most of my allowances with these!

On the blue corner I have vynil disks and office supplies. Getting stuff for Lucifer is hard.

The yellow corner... is a mess of acessories like shades and wristwatches and some jackets. Mammon needs a new one.

The orange corner was the cheapest but most difficult to prepare. I wrapped most of my otaku related rarities, in Devildom at least, and put them in a pile. Levi better apreciate my figurines!

The green pile was also simple. It's actually small with my old literature books. All from great authors and all trying to escape religious judgement so Satan might find that amusing.

I don't have a red corner, just baked goods on the table and two glasses of milk in case Santa visits.

I put purple pillows, warm robes, matresses and scarves around the tree. Belphie won't lose comfort soon.

And now finishing the pink corner.

There's the perfumes, some cosmetics I really don't get but my 'chest instinct' said to go ahead and...

" I hope he likes this fluffy bunny backpack!"

I kinda wanted the bunny for myself... but I can't.

The day went on so fast... why am I even doing this? Might as well call Solomon and offer him these so he can perform his rituals. I'll just wake up tomorrow to a full room of wasted money and a mountain of calories. An empty heart.

I caress the bunny when i hear rustling on my door. Something is playing with my wreath? I pick a knife from the dinning table.

" W-who's there?! Show yourself fiend!"

" Aww, that hurts to hear MC-chan..."

From the darkness into the light walks the same person I crashed into this morning.

" You better drop that knife before someone gets hurt..."

" How...Asmo, how are you here?! Why?!!"

Tears come to my eyes. It's been a while. A long while since I've seen any of them. Since I've had slumber parties with Asmodeus, self care sessions...

He shakes his head cleaning the few teardrops away with the back of his index finger and walks to the tree, messing with the gifts.

" Tears don't suit you well. Oh, you even got something for Barbatos... I'm slightly jealous, I thought you only thought about me~"

He starts opening his gifts.

" Wait! It's not even Christmas Eve. We need to wait until midnight at least..."

As I try to explain, his taller stature hovers over me, playing with my hair and putting a mistletoe, secure in it's knots. Wait... how is he so tall? The height difference is too abnormal.

" I'm afraid the concept of time doesn't apply in dreams, MC."

" H-huh?! Wha... the day... went on really fast. So you..."

I look down slightly dissapointed. The floor starts cracking and falling. Darkness and constelations starting to form under my feet.

" Afraid not. Christmas is not really part of our traditions, haha. Even if we had a great celebration that one time Diavolo proposed we did it with the exchange students.

I like the angel."

He points to the tree top.

" Oh, that... I was thinking of Beel and Belphie when I made the decision. It's my oldest decoration. I was thinking on putting a star this year but... I got a literal gut feeling to keep the angel."

I smirk at Asmodeus as he puts an arm around my shoulders, leaning me a little closer to him. We both apreciate the flashing lights from the tree. Even if it was fake. The rest of the room crumbles away and Asmo let's go of me to pick his gifts and stuffing them inside his new backpack.

" I know he was thinking of the only person that shines as bright as us two together.

Hmm, but you haven't been taking good care of yourself, MC-chan! Remember to follow the morning routine I gave you so your skin is almost as perfect as mine!"

" I haven't been feeling like...doing much I guess. I had a lot of work this year."

" Humans are always full of work. I mean me too.

Since RAD is closed for the 'holidays', we are back to our other jobs. Things get dirty real fast, so many pests! Maybe we can actually come visit during New Year's."

After apreciating the representation if Lilith, he turns to berate me, before picking a bottle of perfurm and examining it, followed by spraying some on while making a spin as he explains his bodyguard/demon threat exterminator job.

He must have loved it because he transforms, with a smile on his face and his horns move like pincers.

" I always found your demon form the funniest."

" ...Dear, I'm fabulous."

" Hahahahaha! Ok, but if this isn't a Diavolo, Barbatos or Lucifer' scheme... is it Belphegor's? You mentioned dreams, and it explains the constelations."

I look around, darkness being drilled by the light of many tiny stars.

" I think I see taurus... and of course he had ro include pisces. Mammon is supposed to be the greedy one, this is OUR moment!"

He huffes and crosses his arms. I chuckle and pat his back.

" So, I'm asleep at the same time as Belphie."

" It's night time in both worlds. You could say I'm an intruder. I was taking my immersive nightly bath as I prepared to get into your dreams~ I hope I didn't actually fall asleep, my poor skin!"

" How did you convince him?"

I wonder as he touches his arm and the parts of revealed skin as if to feel if something was wrong with his real body.

" Oh, well...he actually wanted to see you to! I also promised to take more cute pictures of Lucifer for him. But I don't think he admires his beauty the same way I do-"

The world trembles. Belphie must be waking up. And angry...

" Oh, dear! I must have upset him. This illusion will end soon and you'll wake up in your bed as if nothing happened. I hope you don't forget me."

Asmo walks closer and caresses my face. Kissing my forehead.

It's warm. Fleeting but I can feel his gestures. Even in a dream.

I slap his hand when I feel it sliding down my back a little too far.

" Ouch! My nail...ok, ok. I'm sorry! Won't happen again~"

He apologises when making contact with my burning stare and proceeds to act innocently after.

" It better not. I... think it will be difficult to forget you. Specially now. Make sure the others know-! Ahh!!!"

Another quake and I "conveniently" fall in his arms. I'm able to see his pixie sized wings batting in excitement.

" This is a cliché."

I mumble as Asmo wraps his arms around me.

" I need to go. I'm sure we'll see each other soon. You know I'll always be here. Literally. And I do hear you, you know?"

He pokes his mark, above my heart and pouts.

" ...I know... see you soon Asmo."

I pick his hand and kiss it.

Then I wake up. It's still the middle of the night. My room is cold.

There on my window sill are two roses. One peach and one dark pink.

The End

______________________________

Special dedicatory to: @shortnessangel

and @asmoluvsyou .

Bunny Backpack comes from: https://kawaiibabe.com/products/creepy-bun-backpack

(Curiosities: The perfumes are gender neutral, I can still link you the page where I found them.

The colour of the roses have a specific meaning. I can post the pic I got it from if you want.)

#obey me #obey me fic #asmodeus x gn!mc #asmodeus obey me #gn!mc #gn reader #slight angst #shikibutterfly

[ryqoshay]

Tri-Arame: Sleepover Night

Primary Pairing Trio: YuuAyuSetsu Words: ~3k Rating: G Time Frame: During their 2nd year in high school Story Arc: Stand Alone

----------

Author’s Note: My µ’s muse is rebelling against the drama I’m trying to write for my PTX set. So here’s some more fluff.

Summary: Setsuna took a rain check on watching the anime series that inspired her Koppe Pan order back in Ne, Wanna Bite? Now it’s time to cash in.

----------

“Uhm, Okaasan?” Nana asked trying to keep the nervousness out of her voice.

Why had she waited until the last possible minute to ask permission? What if she was denied? She’d have to cancel the plans to which she had looked forward all week.

“Yes, Nana?” Mrs. Nakagawa replied, looking up from her paperwork.

“Would it be alright if I stayed at a friend’s place tonight?”

“Oh? Someone from the student council?”

“No, a friend associated with the student council who is assisting with a project.” Nana explained. “There is a lot of preparation work that still needs to be done and I wasn’t the only one busy with tests this week.”

It wasn’t a complete lie. Ayumu had indeed helped her with student council work several times. So had Yuu, for that matter, as well as several other members of the idol club. Usually, their aid was reasoned away by them simply wishing to assist a friend, as well as allow her to more easily participate in club activities. This often led to her wondering if they knew how much their help was truly appreciated.

As for the mentioned project… Well, the club did have a Live coming up. And a member of the student council was participating. Granted that member was her, but…

“I see.” Mrs. Nakagawa nodded. “Very well then.”

Excitement bubbled up within Nana, but she quashed most of it, offering only a polite smile. “Thank you, Okaasan.”

Her mother offered a similar smile in return. “Have fun tonight.”

“I will.” Nana said before turning and heading to her room to pack.

----------

Setsuna was giddy with excitement as she undid her braids on the train. Her first sleepover with friends!

It wasn’t her first time visiting a friend’s home, but she hadn’t even done that in years. She had lost track of her childhood friends over the years, due in no small part to increasing expectations from her parents as she advanced in grades. The ban on her favored pastimes had been the final blow as she had to sneak around to continue to indulge, and that was best done alone.

Then she joined the student council and managed to become its president. Suddenly she had an excuse to stay out later or even just be out on weekends. She hated having to lie to her parents and did strive to be as truthful as possible, though she knew full well that a lie by omission was still a lie. But that had become her only way to become a school idol, to join the new club, to shop for manga and doujin and to hang out with friends.

And to spend time with those two.

Ayumu and Yuu had quickly become her closest friends after she joined the idol club. They had graciously given her an outlet through which to focus much of her enthusiasm for her hobbies. And this weekend they had agreed to marathon one of her favorite anime series with her. For the second time, Setsuna would be able have an actual conversation with friends about a beloved story, instead of just a one-sided explanation; the first being earlier that week as the three hung out together and purchased the latest book of Heavenly Life.

And she couldn’t wait.

Honestly, the train couldn’t arrive at the station quickly enough. And Setsuna knew she would have to resist the urge to run to the apartment complex where Ayumu and Yuu lived. For the sooner she arrived, the sooner they could start watching. And the sooner they finished the series, the sooner they could start talking about it.

----------

“Ah, Nakagawa-san.” Mrs. Uehara said upon opening the door. “Welcome. My daughters said you would be coming.”

“Daughters?” Setsuna couldn’t help repeating. Did Ayumu have a sister?

Mrs. Uehara chuckled. “I’m sorry.” She said shaking her head. “It’s a bit of a habit of mine. But Yuu is over here so often that she’s pretty much family at this point.”

A tiny flash of envy shot through Setsuna. How nice to be so close to someone. And not just them, but their family as well. Perhaps someday she could be that close to someone, or someones…? as well.

“Ah, pardon me.” Ayumu’s mother said after a slightly awkward moment. “Come in. Come in.” She opened the door fully and ushered Setsuna inside, introducing herself along the way. “Forgive my asking, but do you prefer to go by Nakagawa-san or Yuki-san?”

“Oh, uhm, actually,” She calls Yuu-san by her name, so maybe “Setsuna is fine.”

Mrs. Uehara smiled. “Setsuna it is then. I’ll go tell my daughters you’re here.” She laughed lightly again at her joke before taking a couple steps toward the hall. “Ayumu! Yuu! Setsuna is here!”

Before Setsuna could even finish removing her shoes, a twintailed girl was scampering around the corner.

“Setsuna-chan!” Yuu greeting joyously.

“I’m glad you could make it, Setsuna-chan.” Ayumu added, following at a more modest pace.

“I’ll have dinner ready soon.” Mrs. Uehara said, moving toward the kitchen. “I’ll send your father to fetch you once he’s home from work, Ayumu.”

“Thank you, Mama.” Ayumu replied.

“Thanks, Ayumama!” Yuu added, earning a blush from Ayumu and a chuckle from Mrs. Uehara. “C’mon, let’s go.” Yuu then said, grabbing both Ayumu and Setsuna’s hands before leading them down the hall.

Yuu opened a door, pulled the other two inside and…

Pink.

That was the first thought that came to Setsuna’s mind upon entering Ayumu’s room. The walls were pink. The clock and lamp on the headboard were pink. Pink curtains framed the balcony door, pink cloth decorated the shelves on the wall and a pink blanket covered something under said shelves. And what wasn’t pink was still some other light, fluffy pastel color. It was all… very Ayumu. Yes, that was the best description Setsuna could think up based on what she knew about her friend.

But beyond the cute colors, it was also very comfy, soft and warm. And welcoming. Setsuna immediately felt at home in the room.

Then her eye caught something. Or rather, a lot of somethings.

“They’re so cute…” She said, finding herself drawn to a display of plush animals.

“I know, right?” Yuu was the one to respond. “Ayumu wanted to pack them away because she thought they were too childish.”

“Y-Yuu-chan…” Ayumu protested.

“I should show you my collection sometime.” Setsuna said, resisting the urge to grab several animals and hug them, as she did not yet have such permission. “I have Kirara, Kyubey, Tamago Onsen, Dera Michimazzi, Kuroneko-sama, Sakamoto, Taroumaru, Ryo-Ohki…

Yuu started to chuckle. “Aren’t those all anime animals?”

“Yes.” Setsuna affirmed with a nod.

“I thought your parents forbid anime? I mean that’s why we’re having the marathon here, right?”

“Oh, uhm… my parents… don’t know they’re all from anime…” Setsuna admitted. “I haven’t told them, and they don’t seem to have looked into things online or anything. Posters, figures, and the like would be too obvious, so they’re the only merchandise I can display openly; I can pass them off as just being cute plushies.”

“Ah, I see.”

“And they’re not all from anime. I have Toothless as well.”

Yuu grinned. “A good choice.” She declared.

“Anyway, these are really cute too, Ayumu-san.” Setsuna turned her attention to the redhead.

“Thank you.” Ayumu replied. “You can touch them if you want, Setsuna-chan.” She added with an amused tone in her voice.

Was my desire that obvious? Setsuna wondered to herself. How embarrassing…

Setsuna swallowed down a blush and offered a smile instead. “Thank you.” She said, reaching for a pink rabbit to inspect. A pink bear had also caught her eye, but the rabbit seemed so Ayumu-like that she couldn’t help picking it over the others. It really was very cute, and she could easily tell why Ayumu liked it.

I wonder if there is one like Yuu-san here… Setsuna thought to herself as she continued to investigate the display.

“So, should we get a couple episodes in before dinner?” Yuu suggested.

“Yes.” Setsuna agreed enthusiastically, her attention reverting back to the original reason she was visiting.

“What site is the show on?” The twintailed girl asked as she sat down on a green pillow and opening what Setsuna assumed to be Ayumu’s laptop. “My parents have several accounts, so if its on one of them, I can sign in to it.”

“Actually, the series is old enough to be on the free sites.” Setsuna explained, choosing the blue pillow, and leaving the pink one for Ayumu.

“Oh, alright, uhm… here.” Yuu slid the computer over.

Setsuna started typing in the address, though as she did, she noticed both Yuu and Ayumu moving their pillows to either side of her. “Hm?” She hummed quizzically as they sat down.

“Since this is one of Setsuna-chan’s favorite series, she should have the best view of the screen.” Yuu answered before she could actually give voice to her question.

“But I’ve already seen it…” Setsuna rebutted.

“Setsuna-chan is also our guest and should have the best seat.” Ayumu added.

“Oh, uhm… alright.” Setsuna conceded. “Will we all fit?” She noted the tiny table did not have room on any one side for three people.

“It’s fine if we do this.” Yuu scooted in until her shoulder touched Setsuna’s.

So close… Eh? As Setsuna’s focus was on Yuu, Ayumu slid in from the other side, though not quite close enough to touch like Yuu. Setsuna wondered how red her face was as she quickly typed the title of the anime and found the first episode.

Setsuna was very much not used to watching anime like this. For so long she had watched alone, hiding from her parents and anyone she worried might not keep her secret. But this was simultaneously comforting and distracting.

Distractingly comfortable… Was that even a thing? While most of Setsuna wanted to pay attention to the anime on screen as the opening title began, there was no denying the part that wanted to focus on the surprisingly soothing warmth radiating from her two friends. She had only sat this way with her parents as a child, and the frequency had decreased dramatically as she grew older and her parents became busier with work.

As Setsuna felt her heartrate start to return to normal and the heat dissipate from her cheeks, she started to settle into the idea that this was a nice arrangement. She could get used to watching anime like this. She could probably even get used to Ayumu leaning in closer.

Yuu giggled, bringing Setsuna’s attention back to reality.

Ah yes, the protagonist’s introduction. Definitely a humorous moment, but there were funnier scenes yet to come, even in the first episode. What would Yuu think of those? Well, they did intend to talk about everything afterward, so perhaps she should just enjoy the show for now.

Setsuna relaxed and turned the entirety of her focus on the anime.

----------

Setsuna startled at the sound of knocking on the door. She turned her head to see said door open and a man she assumed to be Ayumu’s father poked his head into the room.

“Ayumu?” Mr. Uehara spoke. “Your mother sent me to say that dinner is ready.”

“Thank you, Papa.” Ayumu responded, starting to get up.

The man’s gaze shifted. “Hey, Yuu.” He greeted with a smile. “And… Setsuna, was it?”

“Yes.” Setsuna replied, getting up as well before bowing. “It is a pleasure to meet you. Thank you for having me tonight.”

“The pleasure is ours.” Mr. Uehara’s smile grew. “Ayumu and Yuu have told us a lot about you. It is nice to finally meet you.”

Ayumu-san and Yuu-san talked about me? Setsuna hoped it had been at least more good than bad, though judging by both Ayumu’s parents’ actions towards her thus far, that had been the case. And that realization caused warmth to spread through Setsuna’s chest.

Setsuna couldn’t help smiling as well as she followed the other three out to the Uehara dining room.

----------

The notification chime sounded on Setsuna’s phone as she got out of the bathtub. She padded one hand dry on her towel and unlocked the screen to find a message from Rina. The first-year was inviting the school idol club second-years to join a game she was playing. Well, except Ai, though Setsuna assumed she was already playing. She tapped the link so the app could download as she dried off, deciding the game might make for a fun activity to pass the time while Yuu and Ayumu took their turns bathing.

A few minutes later, Setsuna padded down the hall back to Ayumu’s room, already fully engrossed in the game’s tutorial.

“Yuu-san, Ayumu-san, this game… oh…” Setsuna cut off as the other two girls looked up from their own devices.

“It’s fun, isn’t it?” Yuu grinned as she set down her phone and stood before heading toward the door.

Ayumu had also put down her phone and traded it for a hair drier. “Come have a seat, Setsuna-chan.” She motioned to the pillow she was in the process of vacating before kneeling behind it. “I’ll dry your hair for you.”

“Oh, I can do that myself.” Setsuna declined. “Thank you for the offer though, Ayumu-san.”

“Are you sure?” Ayumu seemed confused and… disappointed? “I’d be happy to do it for you, Setsuna-chan.

“Ayumu just wants an excuse to play with your hair, Setsuna-chan.” Yuu chuckled.

Setsuna startled. She hadn’t realized Yuu was still in the room, apparently having stopped to watch. In response to the teasing, Ayumu’s cheeks flushed and Setsuna imagined her own were close to matching.

Although, why was she declining anyway? Memories of the braided bun lesson from earlier that week were still fresh in Setsuna’s mind had certainly caused her to want to accept, and yet she hadn’t. But accepting wasn’t forcing those desires on Ayumu or inconveniencing her or the like. Ayumu had made the offer.

“A-Alright…” Setsuna said after an awkward moment before taking a seat in front of Ayumu.

“Back in a few.” Yuu tossed over her shoulder as she left to head to the bath.

Ayumu flipped on the hairdryer and began running her fingers through Setsuna’s hair to spread out the strands for easier drying.

For her part, Setsuna was just about to relax into the session, when her phone pinged. She checked the screen to find Rina had sent an in-game gift. She accepted excitedly and began to play again.

“Uhm… Setsuna-chan.” Ayumu said after a moment. “I don’t mind if you play, but can you stop moving around while you do?”

“Oh… uhm… Sorry, Ayumu-san…” Setsuna replied, chastising herself for being rude while her host provided a wonderful service. Still, it would also be rude not to use Rina’s gift to the fullest, so she resumed her game, but made sure to remain still for Ayumu.

----------

Setsuna stared up at the ceiling, laying on her back on one of Ayumu’s guest futons. As sleepy as she felt, she was still buzzing a bit with lingering excitement from the events of the night. The three of them had successfully powered through the entire season with a few breaks for snacks and stretching before spending the next couple hours talking about the story. It was well past midnight, but it was the weekend so they could sleep in late in the morning before having a late breakfast, or early lunch, before Setsuna would head home to study.

Or perhaps… maybe she could study here? She had brought her books, even though she didn’t really expect to use them. And she really liked the welcoming atmosphere of Ayumu’s room, though really her apartment and family as a whole, if she was being honest. However, she didn’t want to impose by overstaying her welcome, and she certainly wasn’t going to just invite herself to stay. Still, it was a nice idea. Perhaps someday…

“Yuu-chan?” Setsuna heard Ayumu murmur, distracting her from her thoughts.

She heard the mattress shift and turned her head to see Yuu’s silhouette sliding under the duvet. She couldn’t quite understand Yuu’s response, but both girls in the bed fell silent after.

Strange. While it didn’t surprise Setsuna that a dating couple would share a bed, she couldn’t help wondering why Ayumu would bother setting out a guest futon for Yuu. Or question Yuu joining her.

Perhaps they were hiding the fact that they were dating and setting out the futon was a visual prop to convince Ayumu’s parents? No, that didn’t seem right. Neither Ayumu nor Yuu seemed the type to hide much, if anything, from their parents. Unlike Setsuna herself… Also, if Yuu’s parents were anything like Ayumu’s, Setsuna believed they wouldn’t have much of an issue with their daughters dating. The Ueharas already considered Yuu part of their family after all.

Were they, perhaps, not actually dating? That would explain Ayumu’s protest. And knowing Yuu’s casual approach to personal space, it wouldn’t surprise Setsuna in the least if she just did as she pleased. And Ayumu would let her. Still, that didn’t seem quite right either. Setsuna was fairly certain they were a couple. Their close bond was obvious to anyone who spent more than five minutes with them.

In any case, whether they were dating or not really wasn’t any of Setsuna’s business. So perhaps pondering the possibilities was inappropriate.

What was far more worth her mental energy was focusing on memories of how much fun she had this evening. For the first time, she had been able to not only watch anime together with friends, but also talk about it with them. All in person. Not over the internet. She had shared a meal with her friends’ family and gotten to know them a little. Setsuna couldn’t remember the last time she had gone to bed feeling so welcomed, accepted and… loved? Was that the right word?

Surely, she didn’t mean to imply that she went to bed at home feeling unloved. She knew her parents loved her, even if their way of showing that love was apparently very different than Ayumu’s parents. But even having only been in the Uehara home for not even half a day, she felt loved here. They were all so kind and Setsuna hoped she could come back and experience it all again.

Setsuna closed her eyes, allowing her mind to begin yet another replay of the day. Sleep would come eventually, but right now she was content just being this happy.

----------

Author’s Notes Continued in Followup Post

#YuuAyuSetsu #Takasaki Yuu #Yuki Setsuna #Uehara Ayumu #Tri-Arame #Love Live Nijigasaki #fanfic

[ducissa-animi]

A Stupid Idea#4

"A Stupid Idea" the title is a stupid idea, but ... Why is it called that, why does this moving and at the same time unfair story have that name? I am in charge of explaining that, let's continue. The hours are passing, the skies are darkening, the crickets are singing and they are both exhausted, they had had a lot of fun being together, running from here to there, jumping, and hitting each other when they played. Roch also stuck out his tongue from exhaustion, he was used to sleeping all day, locked in that wooden thing with four walls which the lop-eared offspring calls "home", since he can remember he has been locked up. Vazar was removing some herbs from his clothes, while he kindly asked his now best friend to take the stuffed animal inside that horrible cabin, when he entered he observed the place, a small one that consisted of a single piece, with a fairly high ceiling and beams that supported the structure, with several pieces of wood that blocked all types of exit, there were even free windows, the floor was clean, with a sheepskin on it, a blanket on top, a table and in this several books, scrolls like the odd tin . Also near the door was a kind of oven, or a fireplace, because of how old it was it could not be differentiated, but the second proposal was the correct one. However on top of that blue blanket there was a book, one not so new but still understandable "The Tale of Peter Rabbit", when he placed the plush lamb next to the text, he observed an object, long and thin, he lifted it by himself. doubts, that place is dark enough that the sun shine entered through the small wooden grooves.

He saw that it was a spear, sharp and very good, it had pieces of gold inlaid in it, it was fine from the handle with gold details, to the edge of the blade next to its table and rib (parts of it) the same ring of The fixation was pure gold, and although I mention this several times, I count what I saw.

However, the great star that warms the temples of the world has already fallen, or at least we have that view, the cold night settles, and the animals run to their homes in search of protection from those nocturnal predators.

"What are you doing with that?" asks the mixed blood.

"I could see it, it seems fine" said Alex

"my father gave it to me" he replied.

"who is your father?".

"why do you want to know?"

"This is a weapon, a very dangerous one, how to give it to you."

"What are you implying, do you think I can't handle it?"

"No, the point is that for our age this weapon should not be possessed, indeed, none"

At that age of nine, the green-eyed demon knew what risk he was taking with that thing, fearing that it would harm itself.

Vazar realized that the bright moon lay, closing the door ready to sleep, to rest once and for all.

Between sparks, he lit the fireplace, Roch lay down near it, who was also ready to take a nap.

"you go to sleep?"

"I don't know about you, but I find myself exhausted"

"And something su-ahem ahem, but it just got dark, it's very nice to see her while it's night."

"See her?"

"To the moon, they will not attack us if we look a little bit."

"I think they will"

He lives in that place, assuming he knows what he says is quite logical.

While the time passes the cold more harsh, our little Alex approached his friend lying next to him.

Finally he managed to sleep.

...

The fireplace went out, the puppy also sneaked between both bodies, to receive heat.

On the other hand, above the sea, the one whose wings are chestnut and brushed the water, flies over this with stealth

As much as he denies it, he has come to feel some affection for that "baby."

By so many key moments, forgotten and not affected by such, I mean that technically he missed a lot.

In the cold and distant island, near the shores there were stakes, belonging to the boats that tried to set up their machines in that place, that ISLAND is an unresolved spell, which hates human precense of all kinds.

Once, Inkwell was like this, an island that sheltered the most tense secrets and the most mythological creatures, that the Devil himself went for a walk in those times.

Maybe it was a coincidence, maybe something else happened, maybe it's just time to assume that our angel is a murderer, a ruthless walker, that when he found one more creature in the cabin, he did not think twice before giving the first threw.

We are in the twentieth century it is not uncommon to see a weapon, but it was only a small scratch.

They both woke up restless, to see Michael in front of them, with a spear in his hands and a cold look how heaven itself is.

Vazar did not have to explain further a spear was nailed to the wall, Alex does have reflections, because of the darkness that night offered his silhouette was the only thing visible that time.

More thinking that it was any murderer, he ran dragging the little mixed blood.

The fright had not yet disappeared and, what's more, he was truaded when he saw that blue-eyed being chased them with great speed.

They both followed the same rhythm that the hybrid between the two ran from their father, that the latter, for whatever reasons he had to stop, would not do so until he killed that green-eyed demon.

Little by little he took flight, his halo shining like which spear he was holding at that moment.

Many stories do not have a happy, perhaps this is the exception.

Suddenly the rain muddied the floors, it was difficult for them to keep running.

So much helplessness felt that monster, throwing lightning and more misfortunes from the sky.

Further out of reach, both would not stop or stop when sneaking away, the treetops were becoming more leafy how impenetrable, due to inertia it must descend.

#art #my art #planet earth #archangel #michael #in english #vazar #st Michael's Son #alex #A Stupid Idea

[skaryskylar]

CAMELOT

Pairing: BakuDeku, DekuBaku Switch

Type: One-Shot

Prompt: Twin Stars Week/Day 2-Pro Heroes

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Mentioned smut,  ANGST , Major Character Death, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Post-Canon

Read on AO3

"Don't let it be forgot, that for one brief, shining moment there was a Camelot." - Jackie

           The morning dew has yet to clear. Kyoka finds her gaze drawn to the gleaming drops against the lush green expanse of the lot. It goes out for as far as her eye could see, trickling even into the thicket of oak trees beyond the yard. A wisteria looms over the black gate in the distance, lavender falls obscuring an entire section of it. The fog of the night has begun to lift, but only just. The world remains in a sleepy gray.

Fitting, she supposes, for a day like this.

She turns back to the great white house that stood high above her, taking in the roman pillars on either side of the porch, the double wooden doors, wrap-around porch, and just the sheer majesty of it overwhelms her.

She looks down. 'Trespass and you die.' said the welcome mat. If anything, at least she knows she has the right house. Kyoka steels herself.

The dark cherry wood of the door opens just as she lifts her hand to knock again. A face stares out at her, and it takes a moment for her to recognize her old friend. Age had done him a favor. Grief threatens to take it away. He's blessed with smooth skin, few wrinkles courtesy of his quirk, only a hint of crow's feet.

But his eyes are dull. She remembers them as gleaming rubies-keen, cut sharp enough to kill-always staring at their target with a startling intensity.

This is the color of muddied blood, sickly with dark rims beneath the gaze. Still, she smiles, opening her arms to tug him into a tight embrace.  He doesn't resist. There was a time when such a show of affection would've meant small explosions and screaming, but the morning's silence goes uninterrupted till she dares to murmur,

"Hello Kats. It's good to see you."

He pats her shoulder, still silent as he inclines his head to tuck his chin over her head. His grip tightens once, twice, then he releases her, wordlessly drawing back inside to clear the entryway. She follows. Behind her the door shuts with a creak as she looks about the foyer, quick eyes darting from the marble staircase by the wall, to the glistening chandelier above their heads, then out to the halls. She follows the sound of his fading footsteps, taking her time as she prowls looking from photo to photo of bright smiling faces, a happier golden time.

All the while ignoring the oppressive knells of tragedy that ring out in every corner, rattling her ears till she has to cover the jacks with her hands to reduce the pressure.

"This is a nice place Kats." she calls out, to distract herself. Minutes pass. She doesn't think he's going to answer when a low, raspy voice sounds out,

"...That's right. You missed the housewarming. You were-,"

"In America, covering the war."

She finishes her snooping. Tucking into the dining room where he waited, she looks at how he looms over the bar cart at the other end of the room. The gray cast through the window bathes him in a gaunt light, placing shadows where there should've been none, dimming his usual glow till he himself was a shade. Kyoka makes her way to him slowly, but with each step, the vision steadily gets worse.

Katsuki is by no means an unattractive man, but there's something off. An...unstableness to him. The rumors swirl in the back of her mind but she pushes them away. Time may have made them grow distant, but she still thinks she knows him. Knows what he's capable of. At least, when it comes to her.

"Sorry about that again. Oh, um, just water please," She nods as the man gestures to the drinks on the rolling bar cart.

He puts her drink at the right hand seat of the head of the tables. She take her place with grace, placing her tape recorder and notebook down primly. Gazing out the window, she patiently waits for him to settle with his whiskey.

There are no words of judgement spoken aloud as he takes a hearty swig.

She can feel his eyes on her, and hear the flicker when he turns away, following her gaze out the window to the rolling lush grass, down at the brown bunny who sniffed around in the dew.

"Are you ready?" She asks after a lengthy silence. The clink of ice in his cup is booming.

"As I'll ever be."

Licking her lips, she turns to him, hand already settled on the tape recorder. He doesn't shift his gaze from the hare in the lawn. There's something indiscernible moving around in his eyes.

Clicking the record button, she begins,

"July 25th. 8: 12 AM. I'm sitting with Katsuki Bakugou hero alias Ground Zero, the Symbol of Victory, here at the number one hero's dining room table. It is a gray day, with a fog settling between the trees surrounding his grand estate and dew still lingering on the blades of grass,"

She stops, considers, concedes.

"There is a rabbit in the yard. He stares out at it instead of me as we begin this interview...Mr. Bakugou how are you feeling today?"

"... It's 'the Wonder Duo's' dining room table, and 'their' grand estate. My name isn't the only one on the deed. And if you're gonna call me that the whole time, we're ending this shit now."

Scarlet eyes flicker to her and there it is. There's the man she knows. The vicious one who would bite and snarl and rip things apart so long as he would win.

"What's going on with you Kats?" She feels emboldened to ask now. "Are you ready to talk about this today? Because if you need to shift this interview slot, I can talk to my boss and have him send someone else-."

"I'm only doing this because it’s you Phones," he says. A hand goes up as if to brush through his hair, hesitates, then drops back down to handle the glass of whiskey. "The others, I-," He looks outside once more. "I can't talk to them.They don't know me. They didn't know him. You've seen us at our worst, and I..."

He falls silent and says no more. There's a vein working in his neck. She could hear it. The quick thump thump thumpof blood flow. She wants to give her quirk to him so he could hear it too: the reminder that he is alive to sit there and say what he needs to say.

Instead, she presses the urge into her grip on the recorder, starting anew.

"July 25th. 8:16 AM. I sit here with Katsuki Bakugou, hero alias Ground Zero, at the Wonder Duo's dining room table. It's a gray day but," She glances out to the clouds overhead. "The sky shows signs of clearing....Kats,"

She waits until the man looks at her, twin rubies dull in the light. Kyoka tries to put the ball in his court.

"Tell me about your husband."

"You know the story of how we met. Childhood friends. We didn't get along around puberty, but we were stuck together throughout UA whether I liked it or not. You were there. You've seen the worst of it."

"I never understood it though. Kirishima and Mina were childhood friends and they-,"  

"Were different from us. Or rather Izuku and I were different from the rest....We were always different. Complex. Simple and easy would've bored us I think."

Ice clinking. Fabric rustling as he rolls back the sleeves of his thermal. She takes a deep breath.

"....When did it change?"

If he could, he would gouge out his eyes and swallow them whole so he wouldn't have to see this crap.

"I didn't know they were dating." Mina mumbled into her cup of tea. He doesn't look up from where Deku has an arm slung around Round-Face's shoulder, plush pink lips pressing a kiss to her cheek.

Katsuki sneered.

"They deserve each other," He took a vicious bite from his apple, enjoying the crunch between his teeth as something raw and ugly reared its head within his gut. He felt sick and angry all at once. He wanted to retch. He wanted to fight. He wanted to take Izuku and....and...and...

He didn't know, and that was the worst of it.

"Kacchan! Let me go!" Deku's wrist was rough beneath his grip. The kid had scars, more than Katsuki could even count, all over his arms. He was beginning to suspect that he got them on purpose to look stronger than he really was. If that was the case, he had no qualms about laying down a few marks of his own. Lord knows he was good enough to do it.

"We're sparring nerd! Or are you trying to slack off now that you've got your little fancy ass quirk? You can't take up All Might's mantle if you're not willing to work."

That shut him up the rest of the way to the training room.

"I was supposed to have a date with Ochako tonight," The third-year muttered as he stripped off his shirt. Katsuki looked over the muscles in his back, how they flexed beneath the expanse of tan skin, shoulders covered in dark little constellations.

(And he burned.)

There was a thrill of satisfaction at the words. He swallowed it down lest he say something stupid.

But the feeling was so addictive he couldn't help but do the same thing all over again the next 'date night'. If Round Face wanted to distract the future #2 hero, she'd have to fight Katsuki for Deku's time.

It would have to come to a head eventually. He didn't expect it to take a whole fucking year, but he was nothing if not diligent. When Katsuki opened the door of his apartment one night to find Deku, bulked up from his time as Miruko's side-kick, lingering in his entryway, rain sticking his dark curls to his forehead as his eyes ran red with tears, he knew his work had finally paid off.

It was all he could do to hold back his victorious laughter as he pulled Deku in, peeled the wet clothes off his back, and pressed his advantage.

A hand pauses the recording.

"You broke them up?"

"I didn't break anything. Those two were doomed from the start. Two blatantly gay kids playing 'Heterosexual High School'. I did her a favor. Isn't she with that girl from Class B?"  

"I...You're a homewrecker Kats. What an asshole. No wonder she still shit talks about you."  

"She still hasn't gotten over it?"

She wants to laugh, but as soon as the impulse rises, the situation bears down on her once more, sobering her amusement into something bittersweet.  

"She didn't when I last saw her...But...I mean things are different now aren't they? I don't know how she feels."  

His tiny stutter of breath almost gets lost in the 'click' of the recorder. Scarlet eyes return to following the hare.

          The first couple months were a disaster. They were either called in for work, rained out, or something. Katsuki wasn't one for religion, but he couldn't help but feel as though karma had a gun to his head and was shaking him down for all he had.

Impromptu dates were the only option. They could never plan anything out, so they went on instinct, feeling their way through the darkness of the unknown, sprinting through each new thrill. It suited them. They weren't boring people, so the typical dating process wasn't up to their speed. Their dates had to be thrilling and unusual.

Katsuki loved each and every one.

But he had a favorite. This one stuck out cause it was the least expected, jarring in how its sheer inconvenience contradicted how much laughter bubbled out of his throat.

After all, not many people could say their boyfriend snuck into their hospital room, escaping from his own by the skin of his teeth, to take them on a date. But there Izuku was, a bouquet of 'Get Well Soon' flowers in his hand still dripping water onto the floor, bandages wrapped all over his chest disappearing below loose sweats. His house slippers scritched against the floor as he approached Katsuki's bed, green eyes alight with a certain glint that Katsuki knew meant trouble.

He was smiling before the shitty nerd could even speak.

"Hey hot stuff," That saucy wink only confirmed his suspicions. "You wanna get out of here?"

"Fuck yes."

His leg was broken in three different places, but that didn't matter. Deku hooked his arms under Katsuki's body bridal style, mindful of his own broken ribs, then leapt out the open window, curtains a flutter behind them as they went through the sky. He'd remember the way the wind whipped at his face, how his leg throbbed as the painkillers that made him drowsy began to wear off, but it was the hands clutching him tight that imprinted on his mind.

It didn't matter how much time passed. He'd be able to sketch those hands from memory. He knew their touch like he knew his own. Every mottled scar and each crook in his fingers, he could see them even if he went blind. There was no touch he knew to be gentler.

Even as they landed, and the ground quaked beneath the force of Deku's feet, he was brought down so softly, as if he were a thing to be treasured.

There was a picnic already set up. He could see the large tartan blanket from the sky. (Later he would find out Shitty Hair and Pinky helped out, but for that moment, his eyes were on the tall figure of his man with his broad back to him as he faced the world, spine strong and straight as the tree trunks that surrounded them.) The little details like the picnic basket, his old Victrola and a box of his vinyl were the ones his eyes had missed. He could smell spicy takeout from the Indian joint he and Kiri always went to, and a steadily burning teakwood candle that was definitely Mina's special touch.

A sudden fondness for his friends rose quick, but he tamped it down, fighting back the smile on his face.

He lost when Deku turned.

His grin was cheeky as he held up a bottle of jack, and Katsuki knew that was definitely the other man's idea. No one else paid attention to what he preferred to drink, just taking a single sniff, scrunching their nose and running away before he could convince them to try it.

"For the pain!" Deku said excitedly, knowing damn well their nurses would have their heads if they found out.

Ice clinks in the glass. Kyoka looks at the dregs of dark liquor at the bottom.

           He couldn't pinpoint the exact moment the realization came.  They ate in relative comfort, drank more than they were supposed to well into night, watching the stars flicker into existence as the moon made its arc through the dark sky.

It might've been when they set their favorite record to play and Izuku lifted him up. Strength was always effortless when it came to him. It made Katsuki feel safe. He didn't need the protection but it didn't hurt to indulge for once, laying his cheek against a firm, barrel chest and enjoying the warmth of an embrace as they swayed. His feet dangled in the air, alcohol dulling the pain of the broken one into a mild thrum that was lost to the tingling sensation of something going right for once.

Yes, that was the night Katsuki realized this was who he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

           He stops talking. The tattoo around his finger is as bright as any ring, a simple neon green circlet, neon green lightning bolt where a diamond would've been. Kyoka licks her lips. The recorder is held tight in her hand, knuckles turning white till she realizes and loosens her grip. The two are silent. She searches for something, anything to say, but is interrupted by the thundering of little feet on the stairs, shoes slipping on the marble floors as wild shrieks rang through the hallway.

"Dad! Dad!"

And then comes the deluge. There are six of them, tumbling through the door still in their nightgowns, bedheads wild atop their heads and sleep still in the nooks of their eyes. They clamber around them, only a few sparing a curious glance at her before turning to their apparent father.

(When did this happen? Where was she for this part of their lives? All these tiny faces were unfamiliar to her.)

Katsuki holds the glass far from their reach, despite the only contents being ice, and smiles for the first time that day, shoving back all the grief and fatigue to quirk his lips.

"What's going on brats?"

"It's Aurore," The oldest, she presumes, starts with a confident bang. "Her quirk won't shut off! She broke the sink!"

As if hearing her name, the girl, the true oldest, question comes in.

Floats in, rather. Kyoka watches in mounting horror as the teen, no older than fifteen, comes over with terrible wails, black tendrils bursting from her hands like whips. But even this couldn't keep her attention.

No, it's the pink lightning all over her body that sets off alarms in her mind. She'd seen this before, in a different color.

"Her...Her quirk...it looks a lot like De-,"

Katsuki's hand slams down on the recorder, resounding slap making them all jump. He doesn't look at her as he gets up, one long lean line of power and authority.

"I've gotta take care of the kids. Come back tomorrow."

Then without another glance back, he takes the crying girl by her wrist, tugging her out to another part of the house. The other children follow, casting glances at her with wide bulbous eyes. Confused, and a little hurt, Kyoka collects her things and leaves.

           The hare is back. She thinks its warren is nearby. It's resting in the grass, uncaring of the exposure as she stares. The fog hasn't lifted. The sun stubbornly refuses to come out. Katsuki answers the door even before she walks all the way up to the great white porch. They go back to the dining room from yesterday. He has a pitcher of water set out for them both. She doesn't even think of the eerie silence until he explains,

"The kids have gone to their Grandma Inko's for the weekend."

"Oh, I didn't mind! You didn't have to-,"

"I think," he says softly. "That she needs them more than I do right now."

There are no words that she can say to that. Slipping into the easy folds of professionalism, she sets her recorder on the table. He looks out to watch the hare.

She begins.

"July 26th. 8:01 AM. Same place as yesterday, with the same fog. The house is empty-,"

"You can't write about them. The kids." He says abruptly. She sends him a look, forcibly erasing the last couple seconds from the tape. "Sorry, but I wanted to make that clear. The kids are...They need to stay safe."

"You have my word," She murmurs. He nods. She restarts.

"July 26th. 8:02 AM. Same place as yesterday, with the same fog. Katsuki sits at the head of the table, staring out the window at the same rabbit." She slides her gaze around the room, settling on a photo propped on a side table. She was there the day that photo was taken. She could hear the fireworks, the applause, the sweet, sweet music they danced to that night.

Twin smiles look back at her, imploring her to ask.

"Kats, tell me about him. If you could tell the world what you want them to remember about your husband, what would it be?"

It's a strange question. He turns at the sound of it, then follows her gaze to the portrait.

At once, he reaches for the whiskey on the rolling cart.

           The day of his wedding, he was nervous. It would turn out to be a fine affair; there wasn't a doubt in his mind about that, but that was only if Izuku didn't come to his senses and realize Katsuki was a selfish, rude prick with a temper and a mouth to match. He panicked. He fumbled over something as simple as his tie. His hands were shaking.

And he started to cry. It was only his Dad in the room, and Masaru was a complete bumbling mess when it came to tears, so the man left and, out of all the people he could've found to help, he found his wife.

Like he said. Complete bumbling mess.

Katsuki held back a scream when the old hag appeared. He nearly didn't invite her. She was the bridezilla of a wedding with no brides, paying strict detail to every fucking thing under the moon. But as soon as he saw her, the tears stopped short. He seethed instead, recoiling angrily as she fretted over him, tying his tie as she did back when he was a child.

"Kats'ki,"

He blinked. He hadn't heard his name pronounced like that since he was child. It turned his insides into mush, soft and malleable, quieting his curses till he was looking down at her with wide, blinking eyes.

(And wasn't that a wonder? She was a giant in his eyes once upon a time, but now she craned her neck to fix her gaze upon his face, weathered hands pressing against his cheeks as they did when he was a boy.)

"You're more like me than you're father. I suppose I need to be the one to tell you how not to screw this up-,"

He wanted to protest, but she pressed a finger to his lips, shushing him before smoothing out the lapels of his jacket.

"There's no marriage advice that applies to all couples. What worked for me and your father may not work for you and my darling Izuku, but nevertheless," Fingers paused, hesitated, then squeezed his shoulders. She pressed a firm kiss to his forehead."It must be said. Your passion is your greatest asset, but your temper is your worst. Never spend an entire day angry. Talk out your problems.

"Let yourself love him. Let that love consume you whole till it feels like there's nothing left but that warm, sticky feeling. And let him love you in return."

           Everything was golden that day. Ivory and gold. He remembered how the champagne flowed freely. It went down his mouth in waves, sweetness sticking under his tongue, traces of it on the curve of Izuku's lips when he kissed him.

Katsuki wasn't a dancer but he danced that night. There was never a moment when there wasn't a hand at his waist, or his own wrapped around a firm shoulder. But, no matter where his steps strayed, he always found himself back in the same embrace, held tight against a firm chest, nose brushing against the smooth curve of a neck smelling of pine and sandalwood.

"I love you," And if he could, he would tattoo the words onto his heart, to have and to hold until he took his last breath.

That day, in that glorious, reception hall of gold and ivory and pale white roses, they had their peace. For one brief, shining moment, there was a Camelot: a fairy tale in which greatness was golden, and they had the King Midas touch.

There would be none like it ever again.

"I was at your wedding," Kyoka says wistfully. "The press was in a frenzy for any pictures. TIME said it was bigger than the royal wedding. You two single-handedly brought a small city in Japan under the scrutiny of the world..." She sighs, recalling the breathlessness of it all, of sitting in the pew and feeling the tides of history wash over her skin. "It was a gorgeous ceremony."

"...Yes," he replies, eyes flickering away from the photo. "It was."

           The honeymoon was in Nice, France. It was strange. They weren't bombarded for photos. Either nobody knew them or nobody cared. They spent their days rolling around in the cool sheets of their hotel room, or laid out on the hot pebbles of the beach, toes in the rolling water of the tide. They would whisper secrets the other already knew in the dark, nibbling on cold pizza out by the shore, staring out at the vastness of the ocean as night brought them into its cool embrace. Izuku was a light even in that darkness. He was warm when the winds were cool, and still as the earth when the tide threatened to plunge them into the depths of the sea.

He could never turn it off, that thing that made him so bright. His moral arc was unshakeable, bending ever towards his idea of justice and peace. A symbol of strength in times when others were weak.

When Katsuki was weak.

Izuku said once that Katsuki was his image of victory. But age and experience taught him that the top spot wasn't everything. There was something greater than victory to strive for. It tasted just as sweet, but it was deeper, more profound.

He couldn't put a name to it but that...that thing was what he saw in Izuku. It was an innate glow. Every smile, twinkle of his eyes and even the smallest twitch of his crooked fingers bled with it.

He thought he could taste it on Izuku's skin. He certainly tried. When they lay in bed at night, he traced the map of the heavens with his lips, following each mottled scar that formed a road, memorizing each speckled freckle that formed a constellation against a tanned sky. With each kiss, each swipe of his tongue, he would taste the salt of his sweat but there would be something sweeter looming just beyond. He could spend hours searching for it, but Izuku, in all his niceties, was an impatient man.

The taste would barely brush his palette before the man would push him back into the soft mattress, set upon him with a vigor, and thrust into his heat till he saw fireworks.

Kyoka takes a long, heavy sip of water, resisting the urge to hide her cheeks behind her hands.

        ��  He thought he could see it sometimes. There was a little girl going around Nice, the local thief. They saw her pickpocket an elderly couple and immediately sprang into action. But she was fast. In a blink, she could cross the distance Katsuki made with ten steps.

She couldn't control her quirk though. So when they started nearing the beach, and she looked back at them with fear, there was only one deadly end that could be made. He tried to yell at her to stop, but that only made her jump. Before he could reach her, she was drowning. He was in the waves in an explosion of red and gold, but Deku came from nowhere, black whips surrounding her little body till they lifted her out of the teeming waters.

He carried her to shore, back against the halo of the sun. Katsuki could see it then, in that moment. It wasn't the electric green glow of One for All, but something more. Colorless and without a name.

(Did that sound insane? Maybe he was insane.)

He rescued that little girl, listened to her tragic backstory of abandonment as Katsuki sat fuming off to the side, eyes watching for any sleight of her tiny hand that could lead to Deku being hurt.

(It never came. Not even in the years after. Even accidentally, Deku was the one person Aurore could never harm.)

Their time in Nice, though enlivened by the incident, slowed back down after that. Deku had made a name for himself, helping out in minor incidents because of course he did. Le lapin vert, or Lap-V according to the hipster kids that skated around. He was a hero, even on their honeymoon, simply because he knew no other way to be.

Katsuki didn't fight it. He didn't mind so long as there was a familiar arm slung over his waist in the night, steady breath on the back of his neck and that deep, profound feeling of safety.

They were golden. They were good.

Then they returned to work, spent years dedicating themselves to the tireless cause of justice, picking up orphaned children and taking them in as their own, picking up falling buildings, picking up society as a whole and carrying it on their backs until....

Unti Izuku died, and all things golden and good died with him.

He takes a moment. She allows it, watching with weary, burning eyes as he slips a worn pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He at least has the decency to get up and open the window, smoke filtering out into cool morning air, blending into the drab gray.

"Thought you gave up smoking."

"...It comes and goes."

 He watches the rabbit in the yard. The rabbit watches him back.

     He had the day off. He could still remember how warm the bed was that morning. The sun's light had cast their bedroom in a blissful glow, one in which he lounged in like a cat, stretching out his limbs with a great, silent yawn.

He had kissed Izuku's forehead, soft and tender with affection he wouldn't dare display if the other man were awake, then went to put on a pot of coffee. The children were still asleep, as they were wont to do those early summer mornings. Half-days at school meant they didn't have to go in until a little later, leaving the house in a comfortable silence punctured only by the scritch of his slippers and faint chimes of the Corinthian bells hanging outside the window over the sink. It was soon joined by the rumble of the coffee maker, and a tired sigh as a strong arm wrapped about his waist.

Izuku mumbled his 'good morn'ng' in the same tone he used every day.

(He didn't realize how much he would miss it till he struggled to recall the string of syllables in his mind, searching for the exact lilt on the vowels, that low tired thrum that sent shivers down his spine, as he stood alone in the silence of the following mornings.)

They had coffee and toast, talking about nothing of importance. Class A gossip. Hero Politics. The kids.

Izuku took his shower. Katsuki washed the dishes.

Izuku left. Katsuki kissed him goodbye.

"I love you," Izuku said. His eyes used to search Katsuki's own whenever he said it. He wasn't sure what the man was looking for. Confirmation? Reciprocation? Whatever it was, he had stopped looking after the fifth year of their marriage. That morning, as many others before it, there was nothing but a warm, steady gaze that made his lips curl and heat climb up the back of his neck.

That morning, as many others before it, all he said back was, "Later, nerd."

(He'd regret not saying 'I love you' more, but especially in that last moment. He'd replay it over and over again in his mind, just thinking about 'what if's. Other words he could've said to encompass the vast wealth of his emotions, ones that could properly define the black hole created in his chest when Izuku left him behind.)

     The call came in the afternoon. The kids had left for school an hour before. He waved them off as they boarded the bus, then entered the study to try and get a handle on his paperwork. His coffee had gone cold when his phone rang.

That was the first red flag. It wasn't his cell. It was his work phone. They didn't usually call him in if they had Deku and Shoto on the job. There was an unsettling feeling in his gut but he pushed it away, thinking it may have been a call about a promo opportunity.

He slid his finger against the cool glass.

Then Kota's panicked voice rang through the speaker and he felt the world slowly tick to a deafening halt.

"-Kugo! It's All for One! He's alive! He's here! Shoto and Creati are fighting him now but Deku is-! Deku is-!"

He had never thrown on his uniform faster. He was about to rocket out the door when his phone rang. His private cell. Something compelled him to glance at the screen, instinct warring  for a say with his mind already calculating the route he would take. Seeing his old teacher's name flash only cemented the dread building in his gut.

Aizawa wasn't the type to call him unless it was something serious. He picked up the phone, flying one-handed as he did so, adjusting his balance so that he didn't crash out of the sky.

"He's at Musutafu General. He's asking for you. I know they're calling you into the field, but he says it's urgent. He says....He says 'All Might would want you to have it.' That it.."  

A shuddered breath. "That it can't die with him."

He was on a course for the hospital before the line clicked. He didn't bother with the door, heart racing as he burst through a random window in a showering of glass. He was screaming; he knew it by how hot his throat was, the frightened eyes they sent his way as he marched through the building, boots scratching up the white linoleum floors, threatening to start a fight until Present Mic found him, clasped him by his old, wrinkled hand and led him into a private room.

His Izuku was there, lying in a bed, with no one around but Aizawa. No doctors. No nurses. No one who could help him. Katsuki was set to turn the entire place into a bonfire when green eyes turned to him and his sparks spluttered to a slow freeze.

"Get out," He ordered the extras. He couldn't even hear them when they complied, blood roaring in his ears like the sea.

(The sea. They used to go out and stare at it. Watch the sun drop below the gentle tide. What he would give for just onemore sunset.)

Izuku drew him close with nothing but his steady gaze. He was beautiful, even like this. Even as blood spattered his cheeks, leaking through his heavy bandages, as his eyes looked beyond him to see a greater, brighter horizon.

(Oh, how lucky he was to get to know God's favorite star.)

"Kiss me goodbye," It was a quiet rasp, easy as their mornings. He knew that tone, that series of syllables, mottled with something deeper than sleep.

He couldn't deny him when he was like this.

Katsuki pressed their lips together as he had countless times before, pushing every word left unsaid into this kiss, seeking a brief refuge in the dying warmth of his mouth.

'I love you...i've loved you...i will always love you'

Katsuki watched it go dim, that colorless, nameless thing. It slipped from Izuku's lifeless body to travel with his soul, off to a place he couldn't reach.

"What did he look like?"

"...Excuse me?"

"You said," She clears her throat, tar and oil in her mouth even as tears burn in her eyes. "You said Izuku was there, but what...what, um,...Can you describe to me what you saw?"

A silence yawns into the morning, stretching between them like the years passed. Katsuki looks at her evenly. When she turns away she still feels the scrutiny of his gaze. His voice is grinding gravel.

"You want me to talk about the body." He says it slowly, as if that would lessen the blow. "How the bandages couldn't hold him together? The way his legs were snapped, the hole in his gut that let you see clean through him? Do you want to hear about how his arms were slipping away from the bone? Do you want to hear about that Jirou? Do you really want me to describe what I saw? Or do the sick fucks of the world want to know what it looks like when a hero falls? What the Symbol of Strength looked like when he finally couldn't carry...couldn't..."

He sniffs. Wipes at his eyes. The tar in her mouth turns to ash, bitter and dry. She's never hated herself more than she does now.

"What happened after the hospital?"

He looks to the window. That rabbit hasn't left.

One for All pulsed in his veins as his sorrow joined his rage in a vicious cacophony.

They told him after, what he did. They told him of how the city burned in a blaze of terrifying glory. How he destroyed entire skyscrapers in his chase till he finally caught up to the man that took the sun from his skies. They told him how the newscasters were forced to stop broadcasting. The Hero Commission thought the imagery of the Symbol of Victory doing what he did best was too graphic for the public.

That was the worst part of it. The greatest triumph of his career and there was nothing to show for it but the shadow of a dead, lesser man.

He didn't remember any of it. He woke up to the blood on his hands, to the burned, ripped up pieces of a man once so feared lying at his feet, features unrecognizable from the dark, scarlet mess of blood, guts, and brain matter.

He didn't remember anything other than the face Izuku wore when he died. The fine curl of his lashes against the paling cheeks, how his freckles stood stark against his skin, lips blue but turned up into one final smile as he took his last breath.

He was golden, even in death. He was good.

"Are you crying?"

     She sniffs, rubbing at her eyes as a sense of shame comes over her. She was meant to be comforting him, and here she was, falling into his reluctant embrace, pressing her nose against the sweet scent of his skin and acrid smell of smoke.

"I'm sorry...I just...I-,' She throws professionalism to the wind and breaks down in sobs, tumultuous racking things that make her chest hot and her eyes ache.

For a moment, she wonders what made her think she could do this.

But it wasn't her choice at all was it? Her supervisor demanded it of her, thrusting the assignment her way thinking that since she was 'close to the man's husband; she'd be able to get the job done'. With no regard for her feelings, or how she felt about the situation.

At the end of the day, she isn't even the one that mattered. This broken man before her-this dying fire-, is a scoop really worth putting him through all of this? Whatever she's feeling, he must feel ten-fold.  He sits alone in this huge empty white house, drowning in memories of a golden time long gone, etched into every hall, haunting him at every corner, and here she is rubbing salt into the wounds.

Oh, she's a horrible person. A terrible friend. She has half a mind to throw the recorder out the window, but Katsuki slips it towards himself before she can even try. Crossing over to the window, he pulls out another cigarette.

"Go home Phones. Get some rest. We'll be back at it tomorrow."

She sniffs once more, collects the rest of her things, and finds her way out. From the driver's seat of her car, she can see him, a slim thing in one of the many grand windows, arms crossed as he leans out on the railing, a trail of smoke rising from his lips

Digging out her camera, she snaps a photo of the widow in the white house. She has to fight off the urge to retch the entire ride home.

"I don't smoke."

She glances up from her glass of water, warily eying the way he turned the recorder in his hands.

"31 minutes and 46 seconds in, you can yourself saying 'Thought you gave up on smoking.' Delete that part of the tape. I'm a pro-hero. The second half of the Wonder Duo. Kids look up to me. I don't smoke."

With that said, he slides the recorder back to her, takes a pack of cigs from his pocket, and lights up, reclining in his seat with shut eyes as the steady waft of nicotine fills the air.

Kyoka presses the starting button, and begins,

"July 27th. 8:30 AM. The dining room table again, with the grand old windows overlooking the yard. The fog doesn't seem to want to lift."

Twirling one of her ears with a finger, she looks at her notes, eying one question in particular her supervisor had underlined three times. There's no way she's going to be able to walk into his office without asking, but she's not sure if their friendship would survive the question.

"Did you regret it? Killing that villain?"

Scarlet eyes blink open but they are unseeing, glued to a spot just above her shoulder.

"Depends on who's asking. You, or the Tokyo Times?"

"...The Tokyo Times," she answers. There was nothing Kats hated more than a liar. She expected him to watch her with disappointment, to turn away and treat her coldly for the rest of the interview, but he simply shut his eyes once more.

"My actions were considered a necessary precaution to ensure the safety of the citizens of Japan," His voice is dull, clinical. She knows a practiced statement when she hears it. They were bland. The thump-thump-thump of his heart was at neutral pace, no emotion spurring it into action. "In order to preserve the peace of this new era, the greatest evil of the old had to be destroyed. I thank my fellow pros, the Hero Public Safety Commission, and all first responders for what they did that day. If he were alive,"

Katsuki pauses. The ice in his cup melts slowly beneath the heat of his grip, diluting the liquor it floats in.

His voice goes low, but does not shake.

"If he were here today, I am confident my late husband, Midoriya Izuku hero alias Deku, would be proud of what we accomplished as a city."

She does her duty in writing down what she could, scribbling a note to get a statement on other involved parties as soon as she could.

"Tell me how you felt about the funeral." She says as her pencils scratches.

"It was a ceremony worthy of a hero of Deku's statu-,"

"No." She lays a hand on top of his. "Tell me how you felt about the funeral."

A vein in his neck jumps. She can hear his heartbeat quicken with the rising fury.

"I hated it," He spat.

          When a hero died, they received what was called an 'Akira Service' named after the first shining man made of light  that decided to take up the mantle of 'hero'. It was a nationwide affair, drawing in colleagues, elites and politicians all intending to pay their respects with speeches, prayer, and moments of silence.

It had turned into an opportunity for influencers to rub elbows long before Katsuki was even a thought in his parents mind. The first he had ever been to was during  high school for Best Jeanist. He was still young then, unsure of what was going on.

The second he had gone to was for All Might. Deku was with him for that one, as they were not only the man's protégées but had recently burst through the top ten ranking. They stood in a crowd of thousands, surrounded by vultures and wolves, with nothing but the other and a few scattered friends for respite.

"Do not let my funeral be like this," Deku had whispered to him, after the third fancy insurance company head came around to cozy up to them.  "This is hell on earth. Hi! How are you?"

Katsuki couldn't reply then, when one of the Commission's higher ups approached with a false, wide grin, but he made that promise in his heart. He was sure that Izuku would do the same if Katsuki met his end first.

  But if All Might's funeral as the retired Symbol of Peace was huge, then Izuku's death as a young, active hero-the Symbol of Strength made into a martyr- was beyond measure. People flew in from all over the globe to 'pay their respects'. It seemed like everyone Izuku had ever met had come out of the woodwork.

(It was strange, because when one of them traveled, the other wasn't too far behind. Izuku had hardly met anyone that Katsuki didn't eventually meet himself, and there were a lot of unfamiliar faces in the crowd that day.)

He intended a quiet service for those close to them. For it to be done quickly and efficiently as possible, that his husband's body would be cremated and the ashes buried in the grounds of their home, beneath the wisteria tree, where Katsuki could go every morning and pay his private tributes.

They stole that right from under him. They locked him up for 'his own safety' for days on end and by the time he was released his private cell, stumbling into the arms of his parents, he was politely informed that 'due to the nature of the situation, preparations were already underway for the burial of his partner Midoriya Izuku hero alias Deku, if we would like to be a part he would be expected to show up at the following address in the morning dressed appropriately for the followings series of events-'

     Sorrow didn't taste bitter. He wasn't sure where that idea came from, but he knew it was wrong. It tasted like nothing. It tasted like his taste buds shutting down before the rest of his body, like a muggy fog he was constantly stumbling through, blind to the path, reaching out to find his way.

Sorrow tasted like what it meant to lose, and to be lost all at once.

His only grace was that he wasn't alone through this. He had his parents behind him, Inko at his side weeping into his shoulder, the kids with bowed heads and red eyes. All gathered around the oakwood casket that was still and quiet, muted in the wake of the winter sun.

He had his friends. Eijirou would maintain his quirk for as long as he needed to, beating back paparazzi with his gentle sternness as they made their procession through the streets. Sero blocked off a 'safe' area for family and friends during the service, tape strong with Kaminari's electricity latched onto it, crackling when anyone got too close without Eijirou's go-ahead.

Mina had organized what she could. Whatever control she, Inko and Mitsuki could wrestle from the Hero Public Safety commission, they did. She was the one that stressed over the tiny details, of white roses vs calla lillies and the order of speeches, that made sure the family was the first to be notified of everything that went on, that argued on their behalf when they couldn't keep up and halted the entire process until they agreed to release Katsuki, that they acknowledged that he needed to be there.

She, and the rest of the squad had-.

"Are you crying again Phones?"

"I am so, so sorry Kats. You needed me and I...I didn't show up. I missed it," She heaves through a sob, ears filled with a static that made her head hurt with something other than a deep-rooted resentment. He doesn't look her in the eyes. His heartbeat increases. She feels his toes tapping against the floor as he struggles to find the words to say.

(And here she was again, acting selfishly when Kats was the one who needed the help. When had she become this person?)

"It's not your fault. You had work-."

"That's no excuse. You went to him when he needed you. Mina dropped a modeling gig in the middle of Rome to come home."

"What you do is a little more important than-,"

"No." She brings her hands to the table, eyes willing him to look at her, to see how serious she was. It's not until dim scarlet flicker to her watery gaze that she continues, "I want to fix this. Please tell me how to fix it."

"...You can't bring him back."

"I would if I could."

"I know, but you can't." His cigarette is snuffed out against the marble floors, ash ground out under his heel. He pulls out a pack of tissues from his pocket and an envelope along with it.

"If you really want to help me out, publish this letter along with the article." he says. The white glides along the table, easy as a leaf on the wind. Curious, she unfolds it, wiping away the lingering blur of tears. Voice clear in the silence, she begins to read,

"...And it is with great pride and sense of accomplishment that I announce my retirement from the hero profession for good. It is evident now, more than ever, that the world is ready for a new era of peace, and I look forward to seizing my final great victory by raising those heroes. Yours, in service....Bakugou Katsuki hero alias Ground Zero....What the hellis this?"

"A resignation letter," Kyoka says to her supervisor, wincing. She hates it when he yells; the decibel levels are horrible on her ears. She gets the shakes, tucking herself in tighter.

"There's no way the Hero Commission is going to let their new #1 retire! Has his agency even approved this? We're not publishing this shit! They'll have my head! I asked you to go out there and get me a story Jirou! Not whatever this is!"

The letter is thrown into the air as his hand slams onto his desk.

"I can't believe this! You were chosen because I thought you'd be able to play on his weaknesses! I thought you could make him spill his secrets! A hero gone insane! The Widow: A Murderer! That was the angle I wanted then you come back here with this piece that makes him seem so-! ...So human! That savage Bakugou Katsuki! Our Symbol of Victory! No, you go back to that bastard's house and-"

She watches him rant. How his cheeks turn red with his rage. How fast his heart beats as he begins to fully get into the swing of it.

And she thinks back. She remembers how excited she was when she first got this job, how the squad had thrown her such a huge party. She remembers how proud of her Denki was and how he kissed her that night.

She remembers how the first date she had to blow off turned into twenty. The loneliness she felt when he finally broke up with her, swearing to always be friends. But she wasn't seeing much of her friends either. Then she started travelling abroad.

People started getting married (she's still alone.)

People started having kids (does she still have a chance now at 42?)

Then people started dying, and she was filled with nothing more than regret. The man is still screaming at her but, for the first time in her life, the world goes quiet.

"I quit." Kyoka says.

Collecting her things, she snatches the article out of the man's hands and walks out. The sound of the door slamming on his spluttering gives her a little thrill. She can't help but grin, kicking her feet into a little skip as she goes through the doors, and breathes in the fresh air of freedom.

As for her article , she publishes it anonymously with Put Your Hands Up News.

Her alias? Phones. It fits her she thinks.

The Priest: There comes a time in man's search for meaning when one realizes that there are no answers. And when you come to that, horrible unavoidable realization, you accept it or you kill yourself. Or you simply stop searching...I have lived a blessed life. And yet every night, when I climb into bed, turn off the lights, and stare into the dark, I wonder...'Is this all there is?'

Jackie Kennedy:...You wonder?

The Priest: Every soul on this planet does. But then, when morning comes, we all wake up and make a pot of coffee.  

-Jackie

     Miles away from the rush of the city, Katsuki sits on his porch, water and a cigarette in hand. That damn rabbit is back again. Doing nothing. Looking at him.

He stares right back.

Inside, the children are playing. Their shouts and laughter ring high in the air, over the bluster of the early autumn winds. He thinks the noise will scare the rabbit away but it perks up, craning its ears to listen. It looks at him once more, nose twitching and black eyes curious. He nods at it, then, for a brief ludicrous moment, thinks he sees it smile.

"Later nerd," he says. (Because, even after all the 'what ifs', it turns out that there are no words more fitting than those two.)

Katsuki watches it as it hops back to the cover of the forest, disappearing under the lavender falls of the wisteria tree. There was a certain lightness in his heart with each step the thing took.  Snuffing out his cigarette, he lingers on the steps of the porch as the children wander out to join him. They run barefoot in the wet grass.

He waits. He watches.

They scream. They laugh. They look to him with great expectations.

Katsuki slips off his shoes and goes to join his children in the cool, morning dew. The fog lifts within the hour. The sun is out by noon.

The day is golden.

#bkdk fic #bkdk #bkdk au #twin stars week #bakudeku

[waywardimpalawriter]

May I request a Dean x reader imagine where he finds out she's really ticklish. He chases her around the bunker and when he catches her he tortures her. xoxoxo

Revenge of the pinched

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Fluff and nothing but the fluff

Word count: 1,741

Summary: Dean gets his revenge when stumbling upon a little secret you’ve been keeping from him.

Notes: Kind of a squeal to “Pinched”

Dean Tag List: @akshi8278

“Though you said we were even? That there’d be no punishment for the crime,” taking a few more steps backwards, glancing over your shoulder twice to make sure no chairs or tables are in your path of retreat.

Fighting to keep the smirk from tugging at his lips whiskey flecked green eyes trained on you. “Oh sweetheart never said nothing about no punishment for all the pinching you gave me last month. Just haven’t had the time to think about what sort of punishment fits the crime.”

“But… but it was all in good fun Dean and we made up that night remember,” flirty smile lifting your lips in remembrance of the hours spend making up.

Tsking this time a full blown smirk graces those kissable lips, your own eyes widening at the look on his handsome face. “I remember baby girl, but that was pleasure not punishment.” Taking another few steps towards you noticing the table capturing you from behind as he cages you from the front. Arms pressing on either side to lean in his lips against your ear breath ghosting the shell. “I’m a merciful man sweetheart and promise not to torture you severally,” brushing one hand up your side.

Making you squirm away from his hand bitting your plush bottom lip to trap the sounds behind the closed seam. Knowing if you let the secret slip out there’ll be no end to the torment the eldest Winchester will inflict upon your person. However, Dean isn’t the world class hunter for nothing and he picks up on the slight movements of your body. Fingers whispering over your cotton covered side pressing just a fraction deeper. Garnering wiggles from your frame, trying to maneuver away from those nimble questing fingers.

“Don’t Dean,” forcing your teeth deeper to keep the squeak from escaping, trying to edge yourself from between his hard hot body and the table.

Brow tipping upward at the response, wicked gleam entering his eyes. “Don’t want sweetheart?” Intensionally brushing over your side interested in the way your body wiggles against his. Purely for the fact he’s not trying to make it sexual but teasing not knowing you’ve always been ticklish. Using his other hand to move alone your left side finding the truth he’s searching for in the squeak you let out. “Oh baby girl why didn’t you tell me your were ticklish?” Devilish smirk tipping his lips up. Both hands working against your squirming body, musical laughter bubbling up and warming Dean’s heart.

“We eat there please don’t defile that table by having sex on it,” deep annoyed voice coming from the left. Arms crossed over impressive muscular chest Sam rolls those expressive soft green eyes. “Y’all got rooms take it there.”

Mouthing a quick thank you for Sam to furrows his brows watching as you push Dean away and take off running through the bunker. Pausing to kiss Sam’s cheek then heading towards the rooms, “You’ve saved me from the tickle monster,” nodding over your shoulder at Dean.

Who’s still as a marble statue, though there’s a smile on his face that’s rarely seen. Genuine mirth dances through his eyes, crinkles at the corner youthful and carefree when he turns towards you and Sam. “This time he’s saved you baby girl,” straighten to full height intent clearing written. “You’ll not be so luck once I capture you.”

Bitting the inside of his cheek, “You two are a mess you know that?” Even as those words leave his lips, Sam steps in front of you blocking Dean’s path. As the eldest Winchester starts to eat up the distance between you. “That being said I can’t let you tickle our poor Y/N to death.” Looking over his shoulder, “I warned you, five second head start,” tossing you an amused smirk.

“Thanks bro,” peeking around Sam to childishly stick your tongue at Dean. Squeaking when he playfully lunging at you but the Great Wall of Sam blocks his path and gives the advantage to you. Taking off down the hallways and deeper into the bunker, laughter echoing off the walls.

Shaking his head, “Betrayal at the highest level Sammy how could you? I thought we were brothers?”

“We are but I like Y/N better,” stepping aside, deep full belly chuckle leaving his lips at the fake shocked look on Dean’s face.

Hand to heart, “You wound me little brother, wound me,” landing a good slug to Sam’s right shoulder before taking off after you. “I know where you sleep Sammy, expect payback.”

“So fucking predictable Dean,” shaking his shaggy brown hair, laughter tickling his belly at their antics. Given the last couple years of their lives a moment of happiness shared within the walls of their home brings a smile to Sam’s lips. Memories to be cherished and looked back upon when those inevitable dark times return to suck the life from all of them.

“You know it little brother,” finger pistols shooting towards Sam before disappearing around the corner. Silently stalking the halls listening for foot falls and giggles. When none meet his ears his smile falls for a moment replaced by serious concentration picking up on hard panting just a few doors down.

With the stealth born of decades fighting everything that goes bump in the night, Dean slinks down the hall trying not to give himself away. Cursing playfully when the top of your head peeks out to check and you dart out from the room. “There’s no place to hide sweetheart I will find out.”

“Never Winchester, I’ll never surrender to you. You’ll have to catch me first,” voice floating back towards him.

Transfixed for a moment while watching you move swiftly away, heart hammering for a different reason though for now he pushes those thoughts away. “Don’t be to cocky baby girl remember who you’re talking to.”

Rounding the next corner you pause, leaning out to lock eyes with the hunter of your dreams. “Don’t you get cocky Deano, remember I still managed to sneak up on you last month quite a few times.”

“That’s because I let you woman,” smirking for a moment till he sees your expression fall, then cursing himself for partly lying.

First couple of times you had surprised him with the pinches. Never expecting something so playful but then again he should’ve from your sweetness. In the field your badass taking down monsters beside himself and Sam. With the proficiency he’s rarely seen in older seasoned hunters. Alone surrounded by the family is a complete 360. Caring to the point you’ll lay your own life down for anyone of them. Feeding, mending wounds and making them all smile like now. Pesky thoughts make another appearance, his heart beating triple time with the revelation those rumination’s bring.

Seeing he’s paused eyes unfocused you take the chance to step back around the corner. “You lie Winchester, I know better than that. I snuck up on you at least half a dozen times.”

Voice breaking through as a smirk tips his plush lips upward, “You sure sweetheart?” Slow and careful, he takes steps towards you.

Your own feet taking a few backwards, “Positive Deano, the first two for starters.” Seeing the truth written in those much loved whiskey flecked green eyes. “Third one too,” the nod from him confirming your assumptions. You’re lost in thought for far too long and Dean’s made his way closer.

Fingers reaching out to nab the ends of your shirt, tugging you closer. Only to curse, a high pitched giggle leaving your lips as you take off down the hall. “Run while you can little rabbit I will catch you.” Deep chuckle adding to your giggles as he chases after you. Trapping you in a dead end with no where to escape, “Look what we have here.”

Hands up to fend off Dean’s attack, pleading look in your eyes, back flat against the wall behind you, “Now Dean baby you know the pinches were all in good fun right? Surely they didn’t hurt.”

“So is tickling you sweetheart,” stopping just in front of you hands on either side of your body. “And here I thought I knew everything about you.”

Swallowing harshly, “I kept it a secret,” voice catches at the first brushes of his teasing fingers against your side. Body jerking to the side to get away from those nimble questing fingers. “For this reason,” another giggle leaves at the attack from your right side.

Fingers flying over your body making you squirm trying to get away. Breath lodging in your throat accompanied by the giggle that’s trapped. Dodging one hand only to back into the other. Your own hands pushing him away but failing miserably. “Please,” gasping for air, laughter escaping as you wiggle against him.

“Please what sweetheart?” Pausing for a moment to let you gain breath before attaching your sides again. Wrapping one arm around your waist to haul you against him. Questing fingers finding the little patch at the small of your back that makes you arch into him. Dropping lower to brush over the backs of your knees deep chuckle pulled from his chest when your squirm away from him. “Ah I do believe I’ve found more spots on you baby girl.”

Breathless, “You’re a brute Dean Winchester.” Trying to keep the pout on your lips failing when he attacks your side making more laughter erupt from your chest.

“Ah but I’m your brute,” stopping for a moment Dean steps back letting you think he’s given up. But in actuality he’s planning. Setting the idea in motion by tossing you over his shoulder tickling the spot behind your knee and making you squeal. “Do you give up?”

Gripping his waist to keep from sliding down his backside, “Never.” Swallowing when he turns and starts the long strides towards his room. Quickly eating up the distance much to you chargin. “Put me down Winchester right now.” Demanding tone does nothing to slow his pace nor put you down. Neither does the sound smack you add to his ass.

“I always knew you liked my ass baby girl,” landing a smack of his own, fingers teasing along the new found tickle spot while striding into his room and dropping you in bed. “I put you down sweetheart,” teasing smile on his lips. Kicking the door closed with his booted foot. “Now I’m gonna see how many tickle spots you have.”

#dean winchester fic #request #fluffy fic #Dean Winchester x F!Reader #Supernatural fiction #my baby Dean Winchester

[wcmi-22]

An unordinary day in the life of A Mad Hatter.

In a daily life of any man, he takes his responsibilities and puts them into a perfectly aligned routine. But those men aren’t the Mad Hatter of Wonderland.

It was another glorious Monday morning when Reginald’s misshapen alarm clock went off. He soon turned it off promptly and when I say promptly I mean pounding the heck out of it until it finally hit the floor thereby silencing it.

Reginald soon got up,yawned and stretched as he brushed his fingers through his white curly hair. He soon heads to the bathroom where he rid himself of his green cotton pjs along with turnip underwear to take a shower.

Now most men would sing in the shower a simple little ditty but Reginald however was not one of those men. Although he did sing, a simple ditty would simply not cut it.

“What’s that playing on the radio, why do I start swayin to and fro.” He sung and as he sang, he really emphasized the chorus to the song and automatically his voice would bounce off the tile to fill the room up with his singing.

After a brief shower, Reginald puts on his long orange bath robe then shakes his hair until it becomes a fluffy mess thereby grabbing his brush and brushing it out until it becomes curly once more. Soon Reginald will look at himself in the mirror to check for any spots or flaws on himself. Once he sees that he is perfect in his own mad way, he starts to brush his teeth and put on deodorant before heading to his bedroom where he finds his archenemy sitting on his bed waiting for him.

“Ah so we meet again old friend!” Reginald says to the stuffed manatee.

Suddenly he lunges at the stuffed manatee until the both hit the ground. Reginald soon pins the plush toy to the ground and gets up.

“Alright you little creep!”he says in a serious tone “I am going to give you one last chance to take back what you said about my mom!”

Of course, the manatee did not respond back but Reginald still heard what he said.

“I’ll kill you!” He says before elbow slamming the toy to ground and wrestling with it. As they wrestled with the toy some how almost winning, suddenly Reginald spots his clock and witnesses the time.

“Oh goodness look at the time!”he states “I’m going to be late for work!”

He soon wrestles the toy down to the ground and dashes to his closet where in seconds flat he gets into his usual attire before heading out downstairs and out the door.

He soon walked down the road to his hat shop when suddenly he was nearing his stopping point once more. There he sees the lovely Alice in her what Reginald would call it “lonely two story abode.” He soon leaps over the fence on loves light wings and terries toward her bedroom window under the same tree where he nearly fell. He soon throws a pebble or two at her window before she angrily opens the window. As she looks down, there she sees the fool grinning with his white gloved hand on his hat tipping it to her.

“Good Morning, Cricket!” He said cheerfully.

“Well, it was until you started throwing rocks at my window!” She said “Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to throw rocks at windows?!”

As he thought of how to respond to her question, suddenly he saw Alice’s attire and with a wicked grin responded.

“Didn’t your mother ever teach about modesty, dearest!” He said slyly pointing to her outfit.

Alice curious looked down to find that her new silk robe showed a little too much cleavage. She gasped and wrapped herself up in embarrassment with a blanket nearby all the while blushing with both embarrassment and anger as she heard the mad man laugh.

“Oh you insidious cad!!! You you...”

As she kept on with her rant, suddenly Reginald noticed his watch and realized he had to leave.

“Wish I can hear more of your beautiful poetry, Cricket but I must get to work, later buttercup!”

He says then dashed out, jumping over her fence once more and onto the sidewalk.

Finally, he made it to his home away from home, his hat shop which had become very popular around wonderland.

As he entered through his shop, he met with one of his employees, Ari the Aracuen bird who was organizing the ribbons in alphabetical order. He beeped a hello to his boss and soon started dusting the display hats with his feathered head.

“Keep up the good work Ari!” Reginald says.

Suddenly, he is met by another one of his employees, the white rabbit who represented all the finances and worked the cash register.

“Good morning, Mr Theophilus the third!” The rabbit said hopping with his clipboard along side him as he walked throughout the store.

“Morning, Rabbit! What’s on our schedule?”

“Well you have 7 deliveries for the 7 dwarves,” Rabbit explained “A hat showing for Lady tremaine and her daughters, 5 hats to fix up and also in regards to the mice!”

“The nice what about them?” Reginald asks the nervous rabbit.

As they made it on top of the stairs to the mice’s room suddenly Reginald was surprised to find the mice had little signs and started protesting.

“I’m afraid they have formed a strike!” the rabbit said nervously.

As Reginald watched the mice, he noticed how some of them chanted “no cheddar without cheese!” While some of their signs said things like “Gouda must be a go up if you want us to sew!”

“Ok,” Reginald finally says then starts to whistle for their attention.

“Alright who is in charge of the strike!” Reginald asks.

Soon a little brown mouse with a red coat, brown shoes and a red hat step foreword from the crowd.

“Jack?” Reginald questions. “What is all this?”

“We tired of not getting cheese cheese like Reggie promises!” The mouse said in contempt causing the mice to cheer.

“Gus Gus show demands mans!”

Soon a chubby mouse with a yellow hat and shirt comes in with a small list of demands and places it at Reginald’s feet.

Reginald soon picks up the little paper and grabs his glasses from his pocket to read the list.

“Let’s see here, A wheel of Gouda, 3 pounds of mozzarella,new clothes, 1/2 pound of cheddar, maternity leave and dental plans?”Reginald read.

“You guys do realize your mice so the chances of going to a dentist are slim.” Reginald explained.

“Dental we like or we remain on strike!” Jack demanded causing once agin the crowd to cheer.

Reginald sighed and said “ok I’ll agree to the dental plan, maternity leave and the wheel of Gouda but as for the Mozzarella and cheddar I’ll go 2.5 pounds. Plus, with this little strike some will have to work over time! Not by much but still we are running a business here!”

The little mouse then huddled the band together and squeaked their little squeaks on the terms.

“Ok we like deal!” Jack said and held out his hand which Reginald graciously shook with his index finger.

“Now back to work fellas!” Jack commanded and the mouse set off to their tasks.

“See rabbit, it’s all about compromising!” Reginald said and soon closes the door and heads to his own little work area where he met his last two employees.

“Hiya Reg!” Roger rabbit said as he made on last bow on the newly constructed hat.

“Hello roger! How are you now?” Reginald says as he takes off his coat and hat and starts to tie his hair back along with put on his apron.

“Better than yesterday!” Roger says as he uses the sewing machine.

“Good good!” Then Reginald opens the window and gives a little whistle. Suddenly that adorable flying elephant, dumbo, comes flying low toward the window.

“Hey buddy!” Reginald greets him. “I need you to deliver these to the 7 dwarves on miner’s lane!” He soon grabs all 7 of the new hats and places them on back of the pachyderms saddle. Dumbo then gives a little toot to say “I’m on it.” To Reginald before flying away.

Throughout the rest of the day, Reginald fixed,made and delivered hats left and right. He dealt with clients who looked around and he even dealt with the tremaine sisters who were quite picky about everything he sold until they grotesquely settled for a hat that was good enough for their standard.

Of course, they always did do this every Monday so it was nothing new for Reginald to handle. Although he wished they wouldn’t come by every Monday and try for once to not rip the hats he makes.Poor things. Of course, on Mondays he would also be able to see Alice from his work shop window and start to day dream from his work. Luckily, and unluckily, the white rabbit would always pull him out of his day dream and back to reality to finish his work.

As the day wore on he soon grabbed lunch at the little sub shop called “Hunka Hunka burnin Sub.” Then went right back to work. Before he knew it, the day finally ended at 3:30pm with all his limbs still attached. There he got on his coat and hat, closed the shop and left to go to the March hares house for tea and dinner as he usually did.

At the March hares house, tea flew everywhere as usual and so did the soup Reginald made for them. Yet, he loved it none the less.

“I saw Alice today, ears!” He said.

“Oh good heavens what did you do this time!” Ears stared in frustration.

“Nothing...” Reginald said innocently until ears gave him his signature suspicion look.

“Ok something but I was just pointing out that her attire was revealing in her silk robe that’s all! So really I was looking out for her modesty.”

“To which you have none!” Ears said.

“That’s not true!”Reginald interjected “I don’t have sanity I’m always modest!”

“Sure!” Ears sighed sarcastically.

After tea and dinner, Reginald went back to his lonely abode on teacup avenue and turned on the television for his favorite program, duck tales while he got out a nice bowl of chocolate ice cream for dessert.

Afterwards, Reginald cleaned up his kitchen along with the living room and bathroom before preparing for bed. Once he has gotten on his green pajamas with his monogram on the front pocket, he soon brushes his teeth, says his nightly prayers for world teas and for his Alice before finally sleeping off to whatever mad dream he has which usually involved manatees, purple squirrels and radishes.

Until suddenly being woken up by the darn cricket to which he’ll look for but again fail and fall back asleep once more.

The End

#reginald theophilus the third #wcmi #when curiosity met insanity #alice liddell #hope you liked it #it’s been a crazy Monday #I hate Monday’s #Send me more prompts or fanfic ideas!!!!! #please let me know what you thought

[simple-ponderings]

June 24 2020

I remember creating a Qyranian character for my second playthrough on enderal. She was so strong, she reminded me of that Kenyan warrior from street fighter. I was fighting some mad scientist. I was now playing with little plush toys. I felt like a little kid again. I was about to get really into it, but then felt self concious. I was afraid of being judged by other people. Michaels smiling face briefly flashed through my mind.

I remember walking on a path. There were some protruding rocks around. I think I was walking with my mom. I saw two birds sitting on a tree stump. I walked toward them smiling. I wanted to see if theyd befriend me. I held out my hand. The bird back was facing me, the other bird took note of me but made no attempt to fly away. The bird in front of me was green, like a parakeet. I tilted to the side a little and then it came toward me. It hopped right in my hand nibbling and pecking me gently. ''Sorry, I dont have any food," I smiled again. I think another person came by and remarked on how easily the animals came to me. I saw a collie lying there on the ground alone. It came to me and I just remember bringing it home. It looked a bit like a german shepherd too. It was really dirty so we had to give it a good clean. My mom tried brushing its teeth but it started growling at her. I saw its canines, they were all so very sharp and dirty. My mom continued brushing and the dog kept growling. I was afraid it might bite her, but another part of me felt that it wouldnt attack. I took over the cleaning. The collie instantly warmed up to me and became docile. PJ wanted to keep her, but beatrice was against it. We decided to let her back outside. I took her on the leash, and we walked toward an elevator. It was weird. I think it was broken. The collie started pawing urgently at my pants. Id used to be annoyed by something like this, but I wasnt. I couldnt be if I tried. She was trying to tell me.something by the way her paw kept sticking up. "What is it?" I looked up and saw the elevator lid that led to the outside was dangerously hanging loose. I fixed it.

I just remember being at an old beautiful house. It looked so enchanted. It was very dark, and outside looked so mystical. I think my brothers were there, and my sister was doing something. I remember looking out a window and watching a cat walk by. It looked purple and had green eyes. I wanted to catch its attention and say hi but it kept walking. A pug walked by, and then walked up to my window smiling. I waved. I walked outside to meet it. There was another creature that came to me. It looked like the rabbit from winnie the pooh, or rather it reminded me of him. But he was so short, and twiggy. Like...a faerie creature almost. A dryad. There were two trees before me too. I hugged them both as if they were relatives I hadnt seen in a long time. A face appeared on the left one. The face of a male and the other female. The dryad leaned against the left tree. He was saying something about how they dont need to sleep because theyre bodies arent really programmed for it. Time moved differently for them. But I needed to, because of the way my body was. "Hes right you know," the father tree agreed. There were animals wandering around in the background. I looked back at the two trees. The bond I felt with them, I cant really describe it. I was simply apart of them. We shared our essences. A strong link.

I heard a loud thud. I looked up. My sister was dropping things out of the window. She was about to come outside and thought it would be easier to let gravity do half the work. She ended up throwing my laptop down. It broke. I was upset, but the anger didnt consume me like it normally did. I had a leash on it. I controlled it. "You owe me $900." I said furiously. She acted as if that punishment had no effect on her, as if it didnt apply to her. But I knew I would be repaid eventually, so I didnt worry.

I also remember walking through halls. Golden halls made of stone. As if I were in some old yet futuristic city. There was like a highway of something moving beyond gates. I was traveling with companions. Thats all I remember.

I woke up feeling good.

#dream journal

[pumpkinmutual]

Of Roses and Rabbit Holes [2][Down the Rabbit Hole][Alice in Wonderland!au]

“Who am I? Ah, that’s the great puzzle.”

You wake to heavy eyelids and a distant ache in your head that’s softened by the crackle of a fire and the warmth of the blankets around you as you stretch, exhaling. You aren’t sure what time it is, reluctant to roll over and face the window in the off chance your maid has already been in to draw the curtains – because if she has, she’ll surely be returning to get you out of bed any moment.

You sit up after a long moment of debate, yawning as you rub at your eyes. Maybe you could convince your maid to let you enjoy the fire a little longer – wait. Your room doesn’t have a fireplace, the warming pan is always taken from your parents’ room –

This is not your room.

Fear quickly chases away the drowsy comforts of sleep as you look around, taking in the unfamiliar curtains that are still drawn, the simple yet ornate filigree that frames the fireplace, empty warming pan leaning against the wall. Where are you? How did you get here? Panic follows fear, cold and heavy as it floods your veins, sparking in your chest when the door opens.

“Oh,” the maid says as she steps in, a ceramic pitcher and basin in her arms that she sets down on the dresser, “you’re awake. The young Masters Rabbit and Cheshire will be pleased.”

“Where am I?” You demand, bringing the sheets up to your chest.

“I’ve brought water if you’d like to wash up,” the maid continues as if you hadn’t spoken, “and will be in to dress you once you’ve finished.”

“Didn’t you hear me? I want to know where I am, this is not my bed, not my room, and you are not my maid—“

The door opens again, and the maid turns, bowing lightly. “Young Master.”

“She’s awake?” The speaker’s voice is semi-familiar, tugging at something in the back of your mind. The maid nods. “Ah, good, good. Is it safe to come in?” Another nod. The door opens further and in steps a young man with carefully combed blonde hair, a pair of white rabbit ears nestled at the top of his head. The gold chain of a watch peeks from the pocket of his coat, and he plays with it as he turns to face you with a small, nervous smile. “Good morning.”

You stare, studying his features. He’s familiar somehow, like you’ve seen him somewhere and talked to him, but with those ears – and then it’s a blur of memories rushing back. The party, the blonde gentleman with the rabbit mask leading you to the balcony, asking about curiosity and –

“You,” you say with enough force that he looks startled. “What did you do to me, where did you take me, when my family notices I’m gone—”

The man bows. “My name is Seonghwa,” he begins, “and I’m very sorry about last night, that definitely was not the circumstance in which I wanted us to meet.”

“I want to go home.”

Seonghwa fiddles with his pocket watch again and clears his throat. “I’m sorry but you can’t.”

You stare. “What do you mean I can’t? I don’t want to be here, you kidnapped me and brought me here, where ever the hell here is and I’ll make sure that my father has you arrested—”

“Wow,” a new voice cuts in, a little younger sounding than Seonghwa’s but still undoubtedly male, “you didn’t say she was like this, bunny ears.”

The nervous smile drops from Seonghwa’s lips and annoyance flashes across his face.  “Your flair for the dramatic is not appreciated right now, Jongho.”

A sigh. “You’re no fun.” And between one blink and the next, a boy appears out of thin air near the fireplace. Much like Seonghwa’s rabbit ears, a set of cat ears are nestled in his dark hair that flick as he yawns. “A little drama never hurt anyone.”

Seonghwa frowns, arms folding across his chest as he levels the boy with a flat, unamused look that he seems to be ignoring as he inspects his gloved hands. He looks up after a moment, attention shifting to you.

“This is her?” He takes a few steps closer and you scoot back as far as you can, back pressed against the cool wood of the headboard. “She’s cute. Do you have a name, pretty thing?”

It takes you a minute to find your voice. “Well it isn’t thing,” you say indignantly before eyeing him warily. “Why should I give you my name? You’ve kidnapped me, I owe you nothing.”

There’s a beat of silence before the boy huffs a laugh and shakes his head, turning towards Seonghwa, eyes gleaming. “I like her.”

Seonghwa sighs, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Jongho, please tell me you have somewhere to be.”

“Maybe,” he hums, “maybe not.”

“Jongho.”

Jongho sighs, shoulders slumping with more than a little dramatic flare. “Alright, alright. Don’t lose your head bunny ears, I’m going.” He turns towards you. “We’ll meet again. Until then, however, I must leave your lovely company.” He bows and then promptly vanishes.

“Who…was that?” You ask and Seonghwa doesn’t answer for a moment, still rubbing at the bridge of his nose and mumbling something under his breath. Only after he’s finished does he address your question.

“That was Jongho, our resident Cheshire Cat.”

“Cheshire Cat?”

“Yes. His official position is as the King’s spy because of his…talents, but he moonlights as the bane of my existence.” Seonghwa reaches into his pocket for his watch and flicks it open, frowning as he shuts it and puts it back. “I’m very sorry to cut this short, but I have a meeting to set up. I’ll return as soon as I can, I’m sure you have a lot of questions.”

“A lot is an understatement,” you answer flatly, “I want to know where I am and I want to know why you brought me here, and when I can go home—”

Seonghwa opens his mouth as if he’s going to reply, only to pull his watch out again to check it. “I’m very sorry but I really am late,” he says with an apologetic smile before he bows and disappears behind the door before you can protest.

“Would you like me to help you wash up before we dress you?” The maid’s voice makes you jump – you’d forgotten she was still in the room.

“No,” you answer, “I’ll do it myself.” The maid nods, curtseying before she exits the room as well and you’re left in silence before you slide out of bed. You’re not wearing what you’d worn to the party – it’s a simple nightgown with red embroidered at the cuffs and hem – and while part of you is curious as to where your proper dress has gone, the other does not want to acknowledge that someone undressed you while you were unconscious.

I need to get out of here. Wherever here is, there’s got to be away to get back.

Instead of going for the pitcher and basin, you approach the dresser and begin opening them, searching for something to change into. At the bottom you find a rather plain dress of light blue that looks easy enough to put on that you don’t need extra help and you change into it quickly. You can’t help but briefly admire it, as even for its simplicity, it’s a pretty dress – and then you shake your head, refocusing on your task at hand.

You bite your lip as you turn the lock on the door, hoping the click of metal will go unnoticed before you turn, making a beeline for the window and throwing open the heavy curtains. The squinting struggle against the sudden flare of sunlight is brief, your vision adjusting quickly as you stare out at a sprawling courtyard below. The grass is a vibrant green, a dizzying maze of neatly trimmed hedges forming a circular maze that hides the center from view, even from the window.

You frown, fingers finding the latches to the windowpane and flicking them before you pull, relief flaring in your chest when the window opens easily. You lean forward and poke your head out cautiously, searching for anyone who’d catch sight of you and alert the maid or someone else – but thankfully there’s no one to witness you half-hanging from a window.

A narrow trellis catches your eye, the ornate lattice pattern just wide enough for you to use them as means of scaling down – almost as if it were there to serve that purpose. You hesitate. Was this a trap? A means of testing you, to see if you’d immediately try to escape once you were left alone?

You glance back at the door, wondering how long it’ll take someone to notice you’ve locked it – surely not long, and every moment you spend debating is a moment wasted. Making up your mind, you square your shoulders and lean out the window once more.

It takes a few moments of careful maneuvering to slip out of the window onto the trellis, and you swallow hard as you begin your slow descent, one step at a time until your feet touch cool grass and you step away from the trellis, staring up at the window you’d just come from.

You’re free. For however long, even if it’s temporary until someone notices you’re gone and they catch up – you’re free.

You turn, hands curling into the folds of the dress as you stare at the wide courtyard before you, an expanse of dark woods stretching out in the distance. You have absolutely no idea where you are, or where to go to get back home – but you roll your shoulders back with a soft inhale before you begin walking.

--

You’ve been walking for hours now.

Or at least it feels like it, and you’ve got little ground to show for it – everywhere you’ve looked has been green grass and white statues, occasional splashes of red from clusters of roses (and oddly, the smell of paint) and vague sound of music that seems to be getting neither closer nor farther.

“At this rate I’m never going to get home,” you groan to yourself, running a hand through your hair. “This is all that man’s fault, Seonghwa – when I get home and tell father, he’ll have a thing or two to say about that.”

Though there’s no one to listen to you, it feels good to speak your mind and by the time you reach the end of the plush lawn, you genuinely feel a little better. Perhaps you’d start taking more walks and venting aloud when you got back – it’s therapeutic.

Now that you’re closer, the forest gives off an unsettling vibe that sends chills down your spine as you stare up at the towering trees and then at the gnarled, twisting roots that look as though they’d wrap around you in an instant.

There’s a sign just a few feet away, and you inch closer cautiously until you can read it. “Tulgey Wood,” you read aloud, eyeing the sign. “What sort of name is that?”

The ominous creak of something deep inside Tulgey Wood makes you jolt and back away warily. You’re not certain you should enter it after all, fear making you shiver as you debate going back the way you came. Surely there was another way around it, even if it took longer –

No, you chastise yourself, I’ve got to get home. Someone’s bound to have noticed that I’m gone by now and they’ll be worried sick if I don’t turn up soon. You know that you’re in for the lecture of a lifetime when you get back, but you’ll gladly take your parents yelling over this strange place.

“Okay,” you murmur to yourself, “here goes nothing.”

Tulgey Wood, as it turns out, is nowhere near as threatening inside its knotted depths as it appears on the outside. There’s a clear, winding path of dirt that you follow, glancing around curiously as you do. Occasionally there’s the distant call of a bird, strange cries you’ve never heard at home. Of course, your only experience with birds are the ones that frequent the garden at home and you’ve never cared to pay much attention to what kind they are.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the pretty newbie.”

You yelp, turning in a panic, wide eyes locking with amused golden brown. It’s the boy from earlier, a part of you notes vaguely, the one who’d appeared out of nowhere.

"You're going the wrong way you know," the boy says and something in both his tone and his face annoys you. Like he's laughing at you.

“How do you know?” You ask defensively, and his smile widens.

"I know Tulgey wood better than you ever could."

"Are you going to help me?"

"Maybe," he says, dusting the shoulder of his uniform, click of metal as something swings behind him. "Then again, maybe not. Depends on if you say please."

“You know, Seonghwa was right when he told me about you. You are annoying.” You turn and begin walking in the direction you’d been going, making it only a handful of feet before a hand closes around your wrist, jerking you to a halt.

“Stop. You really are going the wrong way if you want to get out of here,” his voice is softer now and when you look at him, he’s watching you with an unreadable expression before it vanishes, his lips curling back into a smirk as his eyes gleam. “Unless you want to get bullied by the flowers, they’ve got some nasty comments on hand at all times.”

You stare at him. “Are you really going to help me?”

His eyes flick to his fingers curled around your wrist before he looks back up and nods. “On my honor,” he says, “I’ll make sure that you get out of here.” There’s something in his tone, a hint of sadness, something bitter – but you don’t have time to dwell on it as there’s a sudden unearthly wail that sends chills down your spine.

“What was that?”

All amusement has drained from the boy – Jongho, you suddenly remember Seonghwa calling him – and he’s staring somewhere above your head, slitted pupils constricting as a muscle in his jaw jumps. The hand around your wrist tightens, clank of metal sounding again and you catch the source as it whips behind him – a tail of sorts, made of links and tipped with a lethal looking blade.

“That,” he says grimly, “was the Bandersnatch. We need to move, and we need to move fast.”

#ellie writes #aiw au #ateez scenarios #guys this is 2.5k words #jfc

[nowitsdarkfic]

chapter two (black orchid)

My stomach is in complete and utter agony once she and I arrive at the doorstep: my hair is drenched and I’m freezing from the cold rain falling all around us. In the dim light, I can see her eyes struggling to remain open, but I made a promise with myself. The grass is starting to feel like a swamp, and I can tell the rain is making the leather rather slippery: I am almost dragging her once I stumble onto the concrete walkway.

I stop to push my hair out of my eyes to make out the shape of... a flower? I can’t tell.

I push my hair from my eyes again all while trying to keep her from sliding out from my arms. It’s like a neon light in the shape of a flower but I can’t be too sure of it.

What the hell is this place?

I hurry up to the doorstep, where I am met with a low awning: I duck my head and, once the rain is behind me and Maya, I give my head a toss back to rid of the wet strands of hair from my face.

Maya groans in her throat and shudders against my chest.

“Come on, Maya, babe, stay with me—“ I coax her, running her up to the front door. I press her head to my chest but since the leather on my jacket is too drenched, I have to lean back a bit to keep her from falling onto the hard ground. I try to knock on the dark heavy door panel but I can’t, otherwise I drop her.

So I kick the door with the sole of my shoe. No response. I’m about to do it again when this foxy girl sidles out from behind the darkness. Yellow light shines over Maya and me, and I blink several times to adjust my eyes.

She’s about a foot shorter than me with short scarlet red ringlets around her head and bright green eyes, and she has opaque skin as white as the impending snow, and as smooth as glass. She’s wearing a fitted black leather jacket zipped down to the base of her chest, a black miniskirt, and is barefoot. She gives her ringlets a toss back and flutters her eyelash extensions at me.

“Hey, handsome, what brings you to our little hub in the nub of New York?”

“Probably hypothermic, and starving, and I think something horrific happened to her,” I say in one fell swoop and a nod to Maya, and she gasps at the sight of her there in my arms.

“Oh holy shit!” She turns away from the door. “Lili! Lili, come quick!”

She returns to me.

“Yeah, come inside, come inside,” she encourages me.

I almost stumble ass over teakettle into the room from the wet soles of my Chucks, but I never let go of her. The girl gestures for me to bring Maya to a plush dark red couch nestled up against the wall, and I stagger forth a bit, but I catch myself in the moment. I lay her down on the cushions and I collapse right there on the soft shag carpet beneath her.

“Oh my God,” the girl pleads, clasping a hand to her mouth. A heavier woman with jet black hair tied tight in a bun atop her head skids into the room from the stairwell across from me.

“Morgan, what have I told you about calling me Lili?” she scolds her.

Morgan scoffs; meanwhile I can hardly lift up my head. Now I am starting to fade.

“Mrs. Hamilton, this guy and his girl here are—“ I couldn’t hear the rest of it. My vision blurs and falls out of focus as they fade out into silhouettes, both of which loom towards me.

I can feel them touching me and picking me up from the floor. Morgan sits me upright: I already know her fiery red hair through my hazy vision.

“—he said he’s hungry,” I hear her say: her voice sounds like she’s about a mile away.

“I bet he’s cold, too—“ adds Mrs. Hamilton. Her blurred silhouette turns away. “Cindy, go upstairs—”

My head rolls over onto my shoulder and I close my eyes. Like going to sleep.

And then I wake up to the heavy horse blanket wrapped around me and a whole group of girls, including Morgan and Mrs. Hamilton, gathered around me. The latter, who’s snuggled closest to me, brushes my hair from my face.

“There he is,” declares the black girl with the fledgling Afro to the right of me.

“Hey, hon,” she greets me in a Pennsylvania Dutch accent, “don’t scare us like that. We were kinda worrying about you there for a minute.” She hands me a large bluish white bowl of what looks like chicken noodle soup accompanied with a light silver spoon.

“You just make yourself at home here with us for a little bit,” the dishwater blonde across from me tells me.

“We’ll take good care of you,” promises the brown haired girl next to her, “—and her.”

I turn my head to make sure Maya is still laying behind me on the couch: they had removed her shoes and socks, and I could only see the tiny white stubs for feet jutting out from her slacks.

“Yeah, I hope she’s alright,” I confess, returning to the bowl in my lap.

I cannot seem to get the noodles and the chicken into my mouth faster as I almost inhale the first several bites of soup before me. I don’t even care if I dribble a little onto my shirt: I just want it inside of me.

“My goodness,” remarks Mrs. Hamilton, “poor thing, you must have been starving to death!”

“I pretty much was,” I confess, lifting my head to take a better look at her voluptuous figure. She’s a bit too old for me but I do like what I am seeing underneath that lush blanket brocade.

“I’m Leela, or Mrs. Hamilton. Only the select few call me Lili or Leah.”

“And by select few, you mean family and anyone who kisses your ass,” Morgan grumbles under her breath.

“Oh, stop,” Mrs. Hamilton scolds her, “obviously you met Morgan—that’s the Jackson girls, Lupe—“ She gestures to the brown haired girl who shows me a dainty little wave, “Louise, or Louie Louie as we call her—“ the dishwater blonde who blows me a kiss, “—Lizzy—“ the black haired girl with a silver nose ring and tattoos of Betty Boop and Jessica Rabbit on her shoulder who shows me a warm smile and flutters her lashes at me, “—and my daughters Cindy, who made the soup—“ the girl with feathery black hair and big sensual lips winks at me, “—and Gwendolyn.” The black girl to the right of me: and I tilt my head to the side at her.

“You’re her sister?”

“Half sister,” she elaborates. “Mr. Hamilton is my dad, but Cindy and I go by her maiden name.”

“Ridgeway,” says Cindy with a shy smile. I show her a sly grin as I pick up the spoon again.

“And do you have a name?” asks Lizzy.

“I’m Joey,” I introduce myself. “Joey Belladonna.”

“Ahh, we’ve got an Italian Stallion with us, girls,” declares Gwendolyn with a twinkle in her eye.

“Well, I dunno about that,” I shrug off, feeling the warmth return to my skin.

“Oh, come on, baby boy.” A devilish grin crosses her lovely face. “You’re as hot as the sun on the coast of Tuscany.”

“Oh, yeah, sis,” Cindy chimes in, leaning towards me, “you’re quite the—lush one, aren’t you?”

“Well, I’m also Native American, too,” I add, taking another bite of soup.

They all let out an eager gasp in unison and I am starting to feel better at that point.

“What—is this place, might I ask?” I lower my voice towards Mrs. Hamilton.

“Black Orchid,” she replies with a grin. “The finest, classiest, sexiest club outside of New York City.”

I swallow down another bite of soup before I understand what she’s talking about.

“Club,” I breathe out, feeling my heart skip a few beats, “I came to a strip club.”

“That’s right, baby doll,” Louie declares, and Lupe and Morgan giggle with each other. “We all were just headed home for the night because of the rain when you showed up.”

“Don’t tell us that’s your lady, though,” Cindy nods at Maya with an almost wounded look upon her face.

“Oh, no,” I assure her. “I was taking a walk when I found her in a storm drain bound at the ankles, and I wasn’t gonna let her die there.”

“Sexy as hell and a sweetheart,” Gwendolyn notes, her cheekbones filling out to resemble ripe plums.

“Em—well, if you ladies were headed home—and hopefully the rain’s died down, sounds like it has—”

“It’s snowing now, hon,” Mrs. Hamilton corrects me.

“It is? Well, fuck.”

“Slumber party!” Lizzy squeals, and I long for my bed right then and there. I have always loved falling asleep with my gullet full of food and in my own bed. But on the other hand, I suppose it is best if I do stay here for the night.

“I forgot to add, tomorrow’s my birthday,” I add and Mrs. Hamilton’s face lights up at the sound of that.

“Well, I’ll be screwed, blued, and tattooed—alright, girls! We’ve got all the more reason to spend the night. We’ve gotta do more than take care of this boy and help this young lady—we’ve got a birthday to plan!”

“I’ll get the cake!” Lizzy offers.

“I’ll help,” Morgan joins her.

“Gwen and I’ll find him a bed,” Cindy joins in, climbing to her feet.

“Louie and I’ll figure out what’s for breakfast,” Lupe proclaims with a wink at me.

“And I’ll get some beer,” Mrs. Hamilton says, rubbing her hands together.

Meanwhile, I return to my bowl of soup, which is quite big but I really don’t mind. I’d rather go to bed with my belly all warm than have every inch of me shuddering from that box of Mike n Ikes and melancholy. I take another bite before turning my head again to see her bare feet at the end of the couch.

It goes without saying that Maya and I are in good hands.

#chapter 2 #fanfic #fanfiction #heavy metal fanfiction #joey belladonna #anthrax #gothic horror #southern gothic #noir au #dark sci-fi #thrash metal #writeblr #blackened dark flowers #after the watershed #text

[magic-and-moonlit-wings]

Chapter 21: On The Edge Of The Spotlight

Becoming The Mask

Bold and italicized text indicates trollish.

"Behold." Toby opened up a tied grocery bag. An absolutely awful smell wafted out. A nearby troll leaned in for a better sniff. "Month-old sweat socks. Shopping spree tonight, on me." To the relief of the humans, and disappointment of the curious troll, he tied the bag back up.

"Speaking of buying things, I got my tickets for the play," said Darci. "My parents said they'd come, too." Assuming her dad didn't get called in to work.

"Nice," said Mary. Claire groaned.

"I'm not ready. We're not ready. Opening night's practically here and Steve still can't really get into character. I mean, he knows his lines, finally, but his delivery could still do with a lot of work."

"I thought he was doing fine," said Mary. "Everyone but you and he and Eli keeps stumbling. I feel like I'm doing tongue twisters. At least when Steve messes up, he acts like he meant to say it that way, so most of the audience probably won't notice."

"Sure, it's 'good enough', but it feels like he's using that as an excuse not to try and get better. Iambic pentameter is supposed to flow, and he just … blasts it out."

"Toby, do you or Jim have tickets yet?" asked Darci.

She knew he had. As the Mole, she'd been helping sell tickets at a table outside the auditorium that afternoon. But none of her friends knew she was the school mascot yet, so she asked.

"I bought two, for Nana and me. Jimbo said he's worried some emergency might come up in Trollmarket or at the clinic so he's not sure he or his mom can make it, but I'm working on him to buy tickets in advance just in case, so he doesn't get to the door and find out they're sold out."

"How many emergencies does he get called in for?" Mary gestured at the bustling underground marketplace as the four humans stood aside for a few carts to pass by. "It's busy down here but it all seems pretty peaceful. And when stuff does happen, most trolls seem like they'd rather fight out their own problems."

They all jumped when a gnome popped out of the wall beside them and chittered angrily. They reminded Darci of squirrels that way.

"Have you noticed the hat colours?" Claire wondered out loud. "Red and blue, like in Gnomeo and Juliet. Except these little guys don't seem to be fighting each other."

"Have you noticed," said Toby, "how there's now at least two movies that take a Shakespeare tragedy, rework it for a happy ending, give it a surprise cast, and set it to Elton John music?"

"What's the other?"

"Lion King is supposed to be based on Hamlet."

"… Yeah, I guess I can see that," said Claire. "The sequel to that one was Romeo and Juliet, too, and the, what's it called, interquel, was like Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead."

"I think it's a sidequel?" Toby looked it up on his phone. There could, amazingly, be a better signal in some parts of Trollmarket than in some areas of the town above. "An interquel happens in the time between other stories. A sidequel basically overlaps another story in time, but with different perspective or locations."

"Elton John also did the Road To El Dorado soundtrack," said Darci. "I've heard the first song was supposed to have another verse, where it talks about a prophecy of the gods coming to live in the city of gold and that's why everyone was expecting them when Miguel and Tulio showed up, but it got cut for some reason."

"We should do a slumber party this weekend," said Mary. "We could marathon a bunch of 'contemporary takes' on Romeo and Juliet and tell our parents it's for school."

"I really need this to go well," said Claire, going to fidget with her hair. Her hand brushed one of her clips and she stopped herself. "My parents have been on me practically since I auditioned. The one time I got a B, what was their advice? Drop the play. If this doesn't go great, they're going to be all, 'we told you so'."

"Hey, no matter how bad the rest of us stink, you'll do great," Mary insisted.

"You both will – AAAHH!" The gnome hopped onto Darci's shoulder, and from there onto a green troll with an orange – pelt? A beard and a fringe of fur across his shoulders – who was walking the other way. The troll either didn't notice or didn't care about the sudden passenger.

"You okay, Darce?"

"Yeah, just startled me."

"It's wild watching them jump," said Toby. "I wonder if anybody's recorded, like, a record, for how high and how far they can go. We should ask Blinky. Or Chompsky; he'll do anything for a Nougat Nummy."

"Who's Chompsky?" Darci brushed off her shoulder. She was pretty good with names, and that one sounded familiar, but she couldn't put a face to it.

"Kind of my roommate? He's a gnome who lives in my dollhouse. I don't speak gnome so I don't know his real name, so I named him after that linguist guy Noam Chomsky; Nana's got some of his books; and Chompsky rolled with it."

Pedestrian traffic had eased up, so they were able to wander onward without fear of being stepped on.

"You have a dollhouse?" Of course that was the part that would draw Mary's attention.

"It's technically Nana's but it's in my room. It's the perfect size for Sally-Go-Back and digging it out of the basement was easier than saving up for the Moon Base."

"How'd you end up with a gnome in your room?" Mary asked next. "Did it follow you back from Trollmarket or something?"

"Stow away in your backpack?" Darci could see that. They seemed to like small places, being so small themselves. An open bag would look like an invitation.

"I think he followed Jim, actually. It was before I found out about, you know," Toby spread his hands in an expansive 'ta-dah' gesture, "this. Chompsky showed up one night, and then Jim came in and saw him and was all, 'oh no, we need to catch him, this is unsafe, what if he bites?', but then Chompsky found the dollhouse and kinda settled in, and I thought he was cool, and … I guess Jim decided he had to keep his cover, so he dropped it."

Toby's face fell a little. It had to hurt, knowing his best friend had been keeping something this big from him for so long. Darci felt bad sometimes about keeping her mascot job secret from her friends, and that wasn't nearly on this scale.

Jim was in the Hero's Forge. Usually he spent some of the night with the four of them, but apparently he'd lost a sparring match a couple of nights ago, and things were tense between him and Draal and Blinky now. As Darci understood the explanation, Draal had accused Jim of slacking off and Blinky took that as an insult to his capacities as a trainer when he found out.

So Jim was ramping up his training.

AAARRRGGHH, at least, was acting as calm as ever. Darci wasn't sure the placid troll could get mad for real.

"Hi, Bagdwella," Mary greeted when they reached her shop. It looked like a junkshop to human eyes but Bagdwella advertised it as 'fine gifts'. "How's business?"

"A little slow this week," she answered. The humans liked to stop by her place because she'd let them practise speaking trollish with her. "Not unusual for the season. It should pick up in three or four days. Rumour has it" – Darci and Claire exchanged amused looks at one of the first phrases they all learned, since it was one of Bagdwella's and Mary's favourites – "some of Glug's relatives are planning to visit from Floor-ee-dah. They always forget to pack a few essentials and they like to bring home souvenirs."

"What's this?" asked Claire, suddenly, sharply. She held up a stuffed rabbit and switched languages. "Where did you get this?"

"My suppliers brought it in a while ago, I don't recall exactly."

"This is my brother's bunny! He's been acting weird ever since he lost it. Suzy Snooze was here the whole time?"

"Uh, Claire?" Toby waved at her. "First rule of bargaining, don't let them know just how bad you want the thing." He turned to Bagdwella. "I'll trade you three socks for the … toy. I don't know the words for 'stuffed rabbit'."

"It's a stuffed rabbit if it's cooked and a cloth rabbit if it's a toy. Twelve socks and a bedspring."

"Four socks and a candy wrapper."

"Ten socks, all argyle."

Toby checked his pockets. "Six socks, a candy wrapper, AND a pen full of delicious dried ink."

"Deal."

"You didn't have to do that," Claire said to Toby when they left.

"I kinda did. She runs a store, not a Lost & Found. Even if she believed you about it being your brother's, she wasn't gonna just give it back."

Claire cuddled the plush rabbit. Darci's skin crawled a bit, watching her. Who knew what the toy had gotten into while it was missing? Trolls were amazing but not very clean.

"You'd better run that through the laundry a few times before you give it back to Enrique," she said.

"It'll be good for his immune system," Claire joked. "But seriously, yeah, I will."

Previous Chapter (Barbara has dramatically ironic concerns about Jim)

Table of Contents

Next Chapter (Back to the main plot!)

What Toby refers to as 'Shakespeare tragedies' are more accurately called 'Shakespearean tragedies', but he either doesn't know that or doesn't care.

In S1E4, Gnome Your Enemy, Toby refers to the dollhouse in his room as "Nana's dollhouse" at least once, so he presumably got it from her.

Bagdwella has a sister, Sagdwella, who "lives under a trailer park in Oo-tah". The Quagawumps live in Florida except for one, Glug, who spends her time in Trollmarket and makes a presumably-alcohol-equivalent drink that she seems to have named after herself.

Jim and Toby didn't see Enrique being carried by a goblin or chase after them, so Suzy Snooze was left in the alley until a troll on a scavenge run happened upon the abandoned plush bunny.

#Becoming The Mask chapters #trollhunters #Changeling Jim #canon divergence #My Fanfiction #Tobias Domzalski #Darci Scott #Mary Wang #Claire Nuñez #theatre #Shakespeare #Gnomeo and Juliet #Romeo and Juliet #Lion King #Hamlet #musical #Road to El Dorado #Gnome Chompsky #dollhouse #Bagdwella #plushie #bunnies