#getting older (and living longer than i expected to) has filled me with a constant dread for when things Go Wrong

[sugalaritae]

harrow's january reads

it's the end of january! which means i get to make a list of all the fics i read this month, and this month i actually read mxreader, so that's cool. i have thought about marking my favourite ones but i've decided not to because i don't like when i see my fics on people's list and don't see a little favourite star beside it. i enjoyed all of these fics and that is what counts! i'm not going to separate them into mxr and mxm categories but just list them alphabetically.

counting the days - brightlight kth x jjk - idol!au - completed “I think I could last way longer than you without getting off, hyung,” Jungkook says. There’s that glint in Taehyung’s eyes again. Jungkook isn’t sure why for a moment, but then he realizes the full implications of what he said, and part of him almost wants to take it back. “Is that a bet?” Taehyung asks him seriously. Four well-practiced words between them. Jungkook should have realized before he said it what would happen here. read on ao3

days of flower blooms - brightlight knj x pjm x kth x jjk - witches - completed second part to (like my heart) my heart is tilting Magic is real and Jungkook has three boyfriends - these are both facts he's gotten used to by now. It's all the normal stuff he has left to figure out. read on ao3

exhale, slow - orphan_accont :( pjm x kth - strangers to lovers - completed Taehyung has a possibly illegal vegetable garden on the rooftop, and Jimin's just trying to survive Seoul. This is a story through the years as they grow together, then apart, then together again. read on ao3

finding the words to say i love you - @thatlongspringnight ksj x jjk - friends to lovers Living with the person you love can be a nightmare, especially when that person doesn’t know. read on tumblr

help me hold onto you - brightlight pjm x kth - friends to lover, slow burn - completed It’s on a completely unremarkable night in August when Taehyung sees Park Jimin for the first time in four years. read on ao3

(like the moon) my heart is tilting - brightlight knj x pjm x kth x jjk - witches - completedfirst part to days of flower blooms Jungkook moved to Jeolla-do to live with his aunt and go to college. On the list of things he wasn't expecting, meeting three overwhelmingly cute boys who tell him magic is real was fairly high.But here he is. And all because he wanted to pet a cat. read on ao3

matilda - @babystrcandy myg x reader - friends to lovers, brothers best friend - completed Loneliness had always been a constant for you, haunting you like a ghost; until your older brother’s best friend, Min Yoongi, came into your life. You both promised each other something back then - you’d always have his support and he’d always have yours. But with time and age, you weren’t sure how much that all still stood to be true. read on ao3 & tumblr

out of the dead land - sharpa knj x myg (past knj x jhs) - zombies - completedDon’t die, is always what they mean, but that’s not a promise anyone can give, these days. Sometimes, he wonders when Death will finally have its fill. The count must be in the billions by now, since the infection spread around the globe, leaving nothing but ruin and a handful of unlucky survivors. But maybe Death is like him—always hungry, always desperate for more, driven by a black void at the core that will never be satisfied. Maybe Death will eat the whole world and still be hungry. read on ao3

paradise - @minisugakoobies jjk x reader - strangers to lovers - ongoing That sexy man on stage - the one currently giving your friend the lap dance of her LIFE - is your super shy neighbor, Jeon Jungkook?! read on ao3 & tumblr

sun seeker - @nabiolive myg x knj - strangers to lovers - completed Namjoon does not do impulsive. He doesn’t understand the fuss about body modifications, and he has never considered getting one. That is, until he meets Yoongi—the prettiest man he’s ever seen, who happens to be a tattoo artist—and he can’t stop thinking about going under Yoongi’s needle to have an equally pretty design tattooed onto his skin. read on ao3 & tumblr

take my hand, wreck my plans - brightlight myg x kth - strangers to lovers - completed Yoongi meets Taehyung four days before he's set to leave the country. Against his better judgment, they make the time count. based on the movie weekend read on ao3

temporality - @kkulfm-2 myg x reader - strangers to lovers - completed You keep returning to his favourite beach, hoping the sand will one day remember him, but instead the tides bring you something new. read on ao3 & tumblr

trip no further - @matchy6812 myg x reader - soulemates - completed When your valiant attempt to get your best friend laid not only backfires, but results in one mind-boggling discovery—that the world-famous idol Min Yoongi of BTS is your soulmate—you’re forced to confront your new reality. Soon, you will need each other’s touch to survive. Too bad Suga, despite his sweet name, is proving to be something of an acquired taste… read on ao3 & tumblr

3tan: window - @kithtaehyung myg x reader - brothers best friend - ongoing you get to spend the holidays in a lavish private lodge with your brother and all his friends. but you’re just really fucking sad tonight… and maybe a bit mad, too. read on tumblr

#bts fanfic #griddle reads #griddles recs

[gooberjam]

going to sleep until they cure the thing where being sensitive to your body makes you think you are always on the verge of death

#would like to feel a sensation that doesn’t immediately make me think something is terribly wrong #getting older (and living longer than i expected to) has filled me with a constant dread for when things Go Wrong #also having a brother that died of leukemia and having chronic Stomach Problems as a kid probably doesn’t help #went to hospitals a lot and i thought i was actually cool with it and enjoyed it but maybe i enjoyed the perceived safety #of being looked after in case something went wrong #this wouldn’t be such a problem if i didn’t have to pay for basically every visit bc my insurance is shit #i avoid doctors bc i feel like if i actually bring things up it will become the most expensive thing in the world #aaaaaaaaaaaa being an adult is spooky #and i’m only barely one 🥲 #the best tip i have for dealing with this is stretching/moving your body if you can #doing something that’s healthy and good for you and also something that might distract from sensations a little better so you don’t lock on

[majestyeverlasting]

can you write prompts 3&10 with beefy!bucky x reader where he takes her on a surprise date under the stars n they cuddle n it’s cute n shit :)

✩ Alas, the time has come for a night under the stars. These prompts are amazing together, and tried my best to make it as cute as possible. It takes place in Brooklyn, and there's fairly lights, caresses, and of course kisses. A sprinkle of innocent teasing as well. Thank you so much for your patience, and I hope you enjoy.

✩ Prompt 3: “I told you the stars were gonna be out tonight.”

✩ Prompt 10: “It’s hard to concentrate when you’re kissing my neck like that.”

Brighter Than We Know

The same sky that was once a rich blue mixed with the warmth of orange had begun to welcome the beginnings of darkness. Only a trace of daylight remained, nothing more than a fleeting hint of illumination that proved the sun once shone over Prospect Park. That's where the two of you found yourselves, settled on a red blanket in a clearing of grass with a view of the lake. A few small mason jars filled with fairy lights were positioned on the ground around you.

The hands of time always seemed to move faster when you and Bucky were together. An indescribable easiness never failed to accompany his presence.

There was a warmth to the air of the budding night, and cricket chirps ascended from all around. Bucky sat with his legs outstretched, leaning back onto his hands. And you laid perpendicular to him with your head resting in his lap, gazing upwards and allowing yourself to be lulled by the atmosphere. When you closed your eyes, he traced a finger along your hairline and all the way down to follow the curve of your jaw. A pleasant tingle was left in its wake. The content hum that rose from your throat served as all the encouragement he needed to continue.

However, as his fingertips began to trace your lips, you opened your eyes and took his hand in yours—you’d always adored his hands. They were so strong and yet so gentle. You pressed a kiss to his palm, smiling at the way his fingers curled ever so slightly. Then you let go, and he continued to caress your features as if trying to further engrain them in his mind.

Soon, Bucky eventually said. Soon it would be dark enough for the stars to be seen in the heavens above. There was an inkling of doubt that you ended up voicing to him, but he soothed it with an easy smile and another promise that it was only a matter of time. The outing itself had been his idea. After dinner, you were expecting to go back to his apartment. But that’s when he’d told you that there was one more thing he’d planned.

Curiosity getting the better of you, you’d asked him question after question as the two of you arrived at Prospect Park, and began to walk through it; even going over your favorite bridge, and getting to hear the trickle of the small waterfalls leading into the pond beneath. There was something different about the way he was holding your hand, he was guiding you. Not merely walking with you.

It came to the point where the path you’d been following was no longer lined with trees. That’s when you saw everything in the grass a short distance away—the blanket, the mason jars. There were others out enjoying the stillness, but nobody occupying that space. Surely, that wasn’t for you two. But he led you right to it, and your heart soared in awe. There were a couple pillows and a bag of your favorite chocolate as well. You’d attempted to ask Bucky how he’d managed to put everything together, but the only answer he gave you was that he'd had help from somebody who was fond of the two of you.

Ms. Cleary. It had to have been her. Bucky winked when he saw the realization in your eyes. Virginia Cleary was a kind, older woman who lived across the hall from him. She spoke whenever she saw you, and had given him an original canvas painting of hers back when they first got acquainted. Her husband had passed away years prior, and her son worked as a businessman upstate. So she took pleasure in being caring and nurturing towards the two of you.

In that moment, you swore your gratitude for them was endless. The week had been so demanding of you, and in an instant their efforts had lifted the ghost of the weight that lingered on your shoulders.

Bucky began to shift, and you realized it was because he was lying onto his back. Naturally, you repositioned as well, opting to snuggle into his side and rest your head on his broad chest. You felt its steady rise and fall as his arm wrapped around you. He smelled woodsy with a hint of something warm and spiced. The dark gray shirt he wore defined his upper body, and you let one of your hands run up his torso, and over the hard shoulder of his metal arm. There was a solidness to his muscularity, but he was relaxed underneath your touch. There was no tension to be felt.

You glanced at his face, and saw that his eyes were directed upwards. You followed his gaze to where the stars still had yet to appear. Any moment, though. You craned your head and began peppering featherlight kisses to the crook of his neck. His stubbled Adam's apple bobbed with a swallow. And you felt him squeeze your waist as the exhales leaving his nose grew more audible.

“Doll.” His voice was gruff. “It’s hard to concentrate when you’re kissing my neck like that.”

You hummed, but went on to start nibbling his skin, unable to contain a smile. After a few more seconds, you relented, and heard him whisper something quick under his breath. A chuckle bubbled out of you, as you propped yourself on his chest.

“What was that?”

He lips twitched upwards. “I said ‘please give me the strength.’”

You playfully clawed your fingers in his thick pecs. “You’re already pretty strong.”

“Not up against you, I’m not.” There was love in his eyes. A silence settled between the two of you for a few moments. You even let your cheek come to rest on your arms as they were folded on top of his chest.

But then Bucky shook your shoulder after a while. “Hey, look up, pretty girl. You can see ‘em shining now—all over.” His voice was low and measured, proud too.

As if charged, you pushed yourself up into a seated position, eyes wide and curious as they began to scan the vastness of the sky. They seemed to be everywhere, the stars. Some were clustered whereas others seemed to be off by themselves. But no matter the distance, none of them were truly alone as they shone amongst each other.

“See there, pretty girl?” Bucky said. “I told you the stars were gonna be out tonight.”

The moment you turned around to look down at him, he feared being awakened because your smile looked like something out of a dream. The glow of the fairy lights and the lampposts in the distance just barely helped illuminate your face—he saw you nonetheless. In a way only he could, however. He saw beyond your appearance, to what radiated from within you: the childlike wonder you held onto like a friend, your constant pursuit of the ‘extra’ in the ordinary, the love you were always so willing to extend. The extent of your beauty was a fountain that never ran dry.

Bucky thanked his lucky stars that out of every soul in the universe, he got to grow in the understanding of yours.

“You did tell me,” you spoke up. “Thank you. For this—for everything.” You meant that, strongly.

“Of course. Figured you’d appreciate it. I know you’ve been working really hard, and that you…”

His words trailed off as you moved to lay on your stomach beside him. You remained propped on one forearm, and rested your free hand on his chest before dipping your head down to kiss him. But not on his lips quite yet. You pressed one to the tip of his nose, then some to both corners of his mouth. Flutters of anticipation stirred within his chest, and you rendered them into longing when you placed yet another to the dimple of his chin. The sight of you pulling away to study his face made him release a quick exhale of disbelief tinged with amusement. You gave him a little knowing smirk before finally leaning back down to connect your lips.

Bucky used his weight to push you onto your back so that he was the one hovering over you. In the process, your lips parted, only to find each other once again. The way he kissed you was more tender and reverent than anything. But of course, fueled by that spark of passion that was always alight whenever he was with you.

After pulling away, he dipped to return the little kisses you’d given his neck. The added scratch of his stubble drew the sweetest giggles out of you that you attempted to stifle by biting your lip. Bucky felt like he was floating as he detached himself from you entirely, letting himself roll onto his back once again.

There the two of you were, buzzing and looking up at a sky full of stars.

Bucky took your hand in his, and ran his thumb over the back of it.

“They’re the brightest I’ve seen them in a while,” he said.

You squeezed his hand. “And they’re even brighter than we know because they’re so many miles away.”

-

✩ Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed your night under the stars.

✩ More fluffy Bucky fics

#bucky barnes #beefy bucky #beefy bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky fluff #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #sebastian stan #winter soldier #tfaws bucky #marvel #marvel fic

[averytiredfanfictionwriter]

Clan (Technoblade x demon!reader, Philza x demon!reader)

Word count- 2,210 Content Warnings- none that I can think of Ao3 link- right here.

My first post back in a while. I’m sorry about the absence to whoever might care- a lot of things popped up in my personal life that stressed me out, on top of my graduation fast approaching. But I’m back now, and this might not be the Karl or Ranboo fic that was promised, it is at least something. Those will both be coming within a week or two, I just need to finish up some stuff and then edit them. So follow if you want to see when I post those, or just reply on this post saying that you want to be tagged when I do post them. Enjoy! Reblogs are appreciated, as well as likes. So if you could just do both, that would mean the world to me!

Techno’s used to being alone. He lived the first hundred years of his life that way- until he met Phil. And then Phil left. And he was alone again. 

But when he met Y/n, that all changed. He never had to worry about being alone again. Immortals are rare, and meeting another one is even rarer, but the two were inseparable. She never disclosed where she was from, or what the tattoos of strange runes on her body meant, and Techno knew better than to pry into matters that didn’t concern him, but he couldn’t help but wonder what she was thinking about as she stared out the window with her eyes clouded over and memories of a past time playing in her mind.

When Phil came back, it was easy for the pair to fit him back into their lives. Even though Y/n had never met him before it was as if they’d known each other for centuries before then. The three easily settled into a calm daily routine and when they returned to their own houses in the little community they’d created for just them at night, they fell asleep having forgotten what life was like before they’d met. 

The three gods never worried about what would happen when they were found. After all, they’re immortal. They’ve lived to see the rise and fall of countries, rulers, and everything else. Them of all people know that nothing is permanent. But none ever stopped to consider that what they had wasn’t permanent.

It started when Techno woke up in the morning. The arctic always lent itself to freezing mornings but this one felt colder than the others. It could be because he had expected to wake up with Y/n and Phil next to him on the couch, and was surprised that they would go back to their own houses. But it was much more than that- even if Techno couldn’t have known.

Phil and Techno looked in silence for any trace of Y/n around their community when the sun hit the middle of the sky and she still hadn’t shown her face. Any places she might have gone off to in search of quiet or a place to nap. But that didn’t appear to be the case and their search turned up empty and in vain. 

Techno retreated into himself. He found the note she’d left when he and Phil returned from their search and he didn’t say anything, instead heading down to the basement in his small house and shutting himself in to work on ‘very important stuff’ as he told Phil. Phil didn’t believe him-  Techno wasn’t exactly quiet in expressing the emotions he felt about Y/n leaving.

Phil wasn’t quite as emotional as Techno. He was more than two hundred years older than the pink-haired man. He was used to the constant ebbing and flowing of life, of the appearance and then disappearance of people. That’s not to say it didn’t hurt, but he knew that it’s the way of life. People come, and then they go. To stop it would be to disregard the nature of humans as a whole.

He was a little surprised when Techno came back up at the end of the night and, while silent, had refused to acknowledge that she’d even existed there in the first place. He ignored the building next to his where she’d slept and kept her belongings. Whenever Phil tried to bring her up, Techno would shut out the conversation and pretend he hadn’t heard him. It wasn’t healthy, and Phil couldn’t blame him because he was still young but he just wished he wouldn’t be so heartbroken to the point of refusing to acknowledge that she ever existed in the first place.

This went on for months. Almost a whole year had passed and the building that contained Y/n’s belongings went untouched. All the delicate keepsakes from past adventures, photos of strangers that neither of the men dared ask about, and the bookshelves lining almost every wall and so full of books from all over the world- it all gathered dust. Until finally she came back.

Phil almost didn’t recognize her at first. The tired weariness evident in the dark circles under her eyes and the dragging of her footsteps, but everything else was the same. The dark hair on her head now long enough to braid- much to his excitement- and the multitudes of runes covering her body, with the additions of quite a few now. One of the newest things though is the several piercings and jewelry that she’s wearing. The most prominent of which is the chain hanging around her neck, a medium-sized precious stone of unknown origin hanging off of it. 

“Y/n…” Phil said, dropping the wood he held in her arms in favor of running over and embracing her.

She hugs him back, the feeling almost foreign to her now. But now that she’s back, she doesn’t intend on forgetting it again.

“Where’s Techno? I need to talk to you both.” Y/n mumbles into Phils' shoulder, and for a minute he feels the cold flush of fear at the thought of her leaving again.

“He’s inside his house. Here, I’ll take you there.” Phil can’t help but feel like he’s showing around a visitor. The community has changed quite a bit since she’d last been there but the dread-filled feeling that he gets at the thought of her leaving again, coming back to say that she’s leaving and never returning, is more than he could take.

“Techno. Where are you?” Phil calls out as he enters the house and the chill of the room makes him shiver.

“Downstairs.” A gruff voice calls back, followed by a grunt of frustration.

“Well, can you come upstairs real quick? We have a visitor.” The word is bitter on his tongue and the look that flashes quickly across Y/n’s face makes him wish he’d chosen a better wording.

“Fine.” The ladder creaks and then Techno is peeking his head through the hole that leads down the basement.

“Y/n. What are you doing here?” It’s not entirely a question, and Y/n winces at Techno’s harsh tone. “Why are you back now? What, was living out there not as good as you thought it was? Well, you can leave. We don’t want you back here. We’re doing just fine on our own.” 

Y/n feels destroyed. She didn’t expect Techno to react positively to her return, but she didn’t expect this.

“Can I just tell you why I left?” She asks, and Techno snorts.

“Sure. Go ahead. Lay on us this wonderful reason.” Techno’s voice drips with sarcasm.

“There were some people I needed to find- had to find.” She says and Techno laughs.

“Really. That’s your reason. You had to go find some people so you left for ten months. You didn’t even think to tell us in person, instead, you just left a note. Hell, you could have taken us with you. We would have happily gone with you. I would have happily gone with you. I’d have done anything for you. But it appears that the feeling wasn’t mutual, since you barely bothered to leave a half-assed note telling us.” Techno shouts, having climbed fully into the room and stood towering over the girl.

“You don’t understand. This was not a trip you could have made. Neither of you would have been able to!” Y/n shouts back. 

Phil backs away, settling into the couch on the other side of the room. 

“What do you mean, I don’t understand. I understand perfectly. You abandoned us. You abandoned me. Well, you know what, I don’t want you back here. You need to leave. Get your things and leave. Right now.” Techno says and it feels like Y/n was just punched in the gut.

“What? Techno you’re not serious?” Phil’s astonished. Of everything he thought Techno would say to Y/n, this wasn’t one of them.

“Yeah, I am. Now get out.” Philza protests and Techno starts yelling at him as he tries to shove her out of the house.

“My clan was killed! I had to find their bodies!” She shouts out over the two men and Techno stops pushing her.

“Clan?” He asks and Phil stares at her blankly.

“You’re a demon?” He asks and Techno looks back and forth between the two.

“Part demon, yes. My clan was killed and I had to find them. I needed to know who was left. And… I’m now the leader of a clan that doesn’t exist anymore. They were all dead.” Her voice breaks at the end of her sentence, and the sorrow overwhelms her. She’d done a good job on the trip there and back of not crying, of ignoring what happened. But saying it out loud makes it real, and something inside her snaps with those words.

Suddenly the runes tattooed on her and the amount of gold jewelry she’s wearing makes sense to Phil. 

“Hey, it’s okay.” Techno pulls her into his arms protectively.

Phil stands from the couch and joins them. The combined warmth of the other two hybrids is almost too much to bear, but Philza hugs them anyways. Y/n’s sobbing continues for a little longer, but soon it turns into muffled sniffles and the shaking of her body calms a little bit.

“It’s up to me now to find a new clan. Custom is that I have to either join one or find others to form one with. I don’t think I’ll be able to stay here. Most of them require you to live with the group.” Y/n whispers as she pulls away from the hug.

“No. I won’t let you leave. Not for a second time.” Techno says stubbornly, and Y/n shakes her head.

“I don’t have a choice.”

“Yes, you do. We’ll be your new clan. Even if you can’t give us the jewelry of your brothers and sisters like tradition dictates, we can still be your clan. Technically your clan doesn’t have to be other demons.” Phil smiles at her. Techno doesn’t know why Phil would know that, but he doesn’t question his knowledge either way. Phil’s lived a long life before he and Y/n came into the picture.

“You guys would do that?” She asks and he nods his head eagerly.

“Of course. We were already really close before- nothing’s going to be changing.”

“Yeah. What do we have to do to join your clan?” Techno asks.

“Well, we basically have to get married to each other. It’s really just an unbreakable promise to stay with each other and protect each other until we die. Soooo… forever. Are you guys sure this is what you want? Because once we do this we can’t go back.” Y/n looks at them in worry.

“Yes. We both want this. You belong here with us. Life was horrible without you here. I had to deal with Phil all alone. The full force of his attention was on me. It was a never-ending nightmare.” Technos voice is dry as he delivers the joke and Y/n laughs as Phil protests.

“Hey. You forget that I was equally as stuck with you. It’s not easy when you live with a piglin who never gets cold and forgets that not everyone is as lucky as him.” Phil says and Techno mimics his words.

“Whatever you say, old man. But Y/n, I’m a hundred percent serious about joining your clan. I never want to let you go again.” Techno says into Y/n’s shoulder.

“Yeah, it was so quiet without you here mate. And cold. So, so cold.” Phil wraps his wings around the two human furnaces and holds them close.

Even though he’s more than two hundred years older than the pair and knows the reality of life- that eventually they’ll get bored of each other or tired and leave- he finds himself wanting to never let go.

“Here, hold out your hands,” Y/n tells them as she pulls out of the hug.

The two men do so without hesitation, and Y/n places a ring in each of their hands. They’re heavy, made of an unknown metal to most who walk the earth and they’re burning hot to the touch as if they were just forged and taken out of the fire.

“But… you’re not supposed to?” Phil says and the woman shakes her head.

“It doesn’t matter if my clan is made of demons or not. I’m still going to give you guys the rings signifying our bonds.” She says and Phil nods.

“Now… who wants to go and slaughter some orphans?” Techno asks, clapping his hands together.

Y/n shouts yes and drops her bag on the ground, running out the door. Techno hangs back a moment, pausing only to look at his reflection in the mirror- at the heavy ring on his tusk. It’s stopped burning and has turned into a comfortable warmth.

“Hey, you good mate?” Phil asks and Techno smiles.

“Never better.” He eyes the half-demon waiting outside in the snow, her tail swishing on the ground behind her. 

“Good. Because now there’s no getting rid of her.” Phil smiles and they join the girl waiting outside, ready for whatever adventures lie ahead.

#dsmp x reader #dsmp techno #technoblade x reader #technoblade x platonic!reader #philza x reader #philza x platonic!reader #hybrid reader #technoblade x hybrid!reader #philza x hybrid!reader #technoblade x y/n #philza x y/n #lizzy writes

[teawaffles]

Louis and the Aquaria: Chapter 4

Three days after the angelfish had fallen ill. In total, it was now 11 days since the fish had arrived at the mansion.

Despite Louis’s devoted care, ‘William’s’ condition had not improved.

Its fins, once proudly raised upright, were now drooping. The shine of its scales had faded away, and even the way it swam looked quivery and uncertain. During mealtimes, it left virtually all of its food uneaten. In short, ever since its poor health had been discovered, its condition had steadily worsened.

An angelfish, drifting through the water alone.

Louis was watching over it from a chair.

He could do nothing, and chafed at his own powerlessness. On top of that, the cause of its illness might’ve been his own thoughtless actions — it felt downright unbearable.

Incidentally, the South American trees that were brought in the other day had now been moved to the end of the hall. It was a reasonable measure: after all, there was a fear that the change in environment might have affected the fish. Now, one would think the area would’ve simply returned to its former state — but after the trees that had exuded such a strange presence were moved away, the space around the tank now looked somewhat empty.

Only the mechanical noises of the aquarium equipment could be heard echoing through the hall. Then, the hall door inched open, and there stood Fred.

Seated before the aquarium, Louis hadn’t even turned to look at the newcomer to the room. Instead, he watched the angelfish in earnest silence.

Fred walked up to him quietly.

“Are you alright?”

“If you’re talking about the angelfish, then unfortunately, its condition isn’t good. But although my attention has been taken up by the care of this one, by no means have I neglected the others. You can be assured of that.”

“…………”

Fred had actually been asking after Louis’s own health; but from that determined reply, he could sense that Louis had intentionally avoided the topic, and so he didn’t press further.

Looking over the surrounding tanks, he could see that the other fish were swimming energetically. Just as Louis had said, it seemed he had avoided falling into the trap of letting one fish impede the management of the entire endeavour.

For several minutes, an uncomfortable silence pervaded the space between them.

From the side, Fred looked at Louis and ‘William’ in turn. As the careworn man gazed at the sickly fish, his face exuded exhaustion in waves.

Ever since he’d begun nursing the fish, Louis had been in constant attendance by its tank. After preparing everyone’s meals, he would shut himself in this room to watch over it alone. Occasionally, out of concern, the others would come in to check on him — but Louis stubbornly refused to leave.

When was the last time he’d gone back to his room? ——There wasn’t any bed prepared here, and from the state of his complexion, it was painfully obvious that he hadn’t gotten enough sleep.

Fred dithered on about it. But eventually, he made up his mind, and asked Louis a question.

“Mr Louis. I understand how you feel, but you should still get some rest. If your body breaks down, everything will have been in vain.”

“I believe I told you everything’s fine.”

In contrast to his usual manner, the voice that struck Fred had been exceedingly cold.

It was clear that Louis did not want him to probe any further.

Fred nearly withered after hearing that — but no matter what he did, he couldn’t suppress the burgeoning question within him.

“——Why are you doing so much for just one fish? Didn’t you say it before: that they are just a means to carry out the plan?”

“…………”

Thinking back to his own words, he knew Fred was spot on. But he twisted his lips and looked down, as if he found it difficult to respond. In his lap, his hands were balled into tight fists — perhaps, that question had stirred up a conflict within him.

In the past, Louis and Fred had fallen out in the middle of a mission.

At the time, their task had been to punish the nobles who’d abducted children from the slums and forced them into cruel manhunts. During the operation, they’d been split on whether to help a child whose injured leg had rendered him immobile.

Fred had insisted on helping him, but Louis proposed leaving the child behind, as their objective to murder the noblemen came first. Although Fred knew that he’d said it out of concern for his brother, who was also on the same mission, he still found Louis’s decision rather callous.

In the end, Moran — who was like an older brother to them — stepped in and defused the situation. However, the fact remained that Fred and Louis had nearly clashed over their differences in opinion.

——Louis James Moriarty, was a man who could become as ruthless as necessary for his brother’s sake.

It was a fact that those who worked with the “Lord of Crime” knew all too well.

However, it was precisely because Fred understood his personality, that he was baffled as to why Louis would go so far to devote himself to a mere tropical fish.

It was but one fish out of three. And even if all the angelfish were to die, there were still tens of other species in the aquaria. There were plenty of replacements.

Then, why——.

“Fred. You’re right.”

Still looking down, Louis spoke in a grave, yet clear voice.

“It’s a tool to help my brother get close to his target. There are no further reasons than that. If it were any ordinary fish, I wouldn’t have gotten so invested. And if my brother ordered me to kill all of them right now, I wouldn’t hesitate to do so.”

Fred nodded. But at the same time, those words chilled him to the core. He would’ve done it himself as well, if William told him to — but he couldn’t understand how Louis was able to completely close off his heart to the living things he’d so carefully raised.

“Still……”

Louis tried to continue, but his voice was trembling ever so slightly, and Fred could not hide his astonishment. The man was normally calm and collected; but now, unlike his usual self, it seemed as though quivers of agony were wringing him out from the inside.

Seated on his chair, Louis slowly looked up at the angelfish before him.

“Still, for this one alone—— even though it was done half as a joke, it was given the name ‘William’, and so I must do everything I can for it.”

His voice was filled with determination.

“It pains me to say this, but what you said was true. It’s foolish of me, but I’ve grown attached to a fish that was meant to be nothing more than a tool. Of all things, I’ve ended up projecting the image of my brother onto a fish.”

“Mr Louis……”

He’d laid bare the emotions he had been suppressing with logic, and now, Fred understood just how much he’d been suffering.

——Projecting his own brother, onto an angelfish.

Perhaps, if one didn’t know the brothers’ background, one would find this rather comical. But as someone who shared their ambitions, Fred had no intention of laughing.

Louis devoted himself to their work without batting an eye. But having been with the two brothers until now, Fred was painfully aware that that cold-heartedness was, from another perspective, directly linked to his extraordinary love for William.

In that case, it was only natural that once something was given the name of the brother he so revered, Louis would begin to see it as more than a mere tool.

It was the complete opposite of what Louis had always said and done. But Fred knew that his words were backed by conviction, and thus realised that further persuasion would be futile. In fact, he could even sympathise with that selfless devotion to the fish.

Because to Louis, William James Moriarty was a figure more precious and important than anything else.

But although he understood Louis’s feelings, that didn’t mean the problem was resolved.

“Even so, there isn’t anything else we can……”

Though it was extremely difficult to say, it was also the unassailable truth, and Louis accepted it with bitterness.

“……Indeed. There’s nothing else we can do.”

The strength of one’s feelings alone, could not hope to fight a disease that existed in reality.

It was a cruel truth, and Fred’s expression clouded over. Although he no longer had any intention of stopping Louis, just like this, a wordless silence settled between them once more.

The room was engulfed in a heavy stillness.

“——It sure feels rather gloomy in here. Louis, Fred.”

Then, the voice of that man rang out.

The two of them looked at the entrance, and saw William entering the hall with silent steps.

Looking at his younger brother seated listlessly before the aquarium, William’s voice was mingled with sorrow.

“You don’t seem to be well, Louis. Although this is something I asked you to do, it shouldn’t come at the expense of your own health.”

“Nii-san……”

Louis rose to his feet, in an attempt to explain the current situation; but all he had were useless excuses, and he fell silent.

Instead, Fred stepped forward and tried to defend him.

“N-No, Mr William. He was, trying to help the fish——”

But William raised a hand to stop him.

“Fred, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. I haven’t come here to lay blame on Louis; rather, I’m here to give him something important.”

“Eh?”

That was not what he’d been expecting. Puzzled, Fred stood rooted to the spot.

Then, William took a tiny bottle of liquid and a small piece of paper from his breast pocket, then handed them both to Louis.

Needless to say, Louis was perplexed.

“Nii-san……. These are?”

“——Medicine for the fish.”

At those nonchalant words, Louis and Fred were startled. Wide-eyed, they stared at the bottle in Louis’s hand.

“From what I’ve been told, this has been prepared using a solution of malachite green as a base. [1] Adding an appropriate amount of it to the water should do the trick,” William explained simply.

“Did you arrange for this, Mr William?”

A trace of excitement crept into Fred’s expression, and William nodded leisurely.

“I’d anticipated a situation like this, so I requested Herder to develop such a remedy. But because the fish-keeping equipment was the bigger priority, it seems the medicine was completed a little late. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, Louis — these past few days must’ve been difficult for you.”

Hearing that, Fred found himself with a newfound admiration for William’s foresight, as well as Herder’s outstanding technical expertise.

With both hands, Louis clutched the tiny bottle as if it were priceless beyond compare.

“——Thank you so much, nii-san!”

In a pitch-dark situation, he’d now been given a ray of hope. Louis sank into a deep bow, and William responded with a smile full of warmth.

“Also, I have an update on our work: in five days, the fish will all be leaving the mansion.”

Slowly, Louis and Fred’s expressions grew taut.

“I managed to secure a meeting with Stapleton a few days earlier. As planned, he was lured in by the tropical fish, and invited us to his mansion in exchange for us handing them all over to him. After that meeting, I believe I’ll be able to judge if he’s indeed engaged in nefarious acts.”

“Understood,” Louis replied.

“I’ll report back once I obtain the results. Well then, I wish you all the best.”

With those parting words, William left the hall with a dignified air. Louis and Fred thanked him once again, then looked at one another.

Fred smiled. “The fish will surely get better once you use this,” he said.

But in contrast, Louis’s manner was exceedingly calm.

“I wouldn’t be optimistic,” he cautioned. “Since the drug was only just developed, there may be concerns about its quality, and we don’t know for sure if it’ll be effective in treating this particular disease.”

But Fred simply narrowed his eyes, and stared at Louis’s face.

“……What’s the matter?”

Fred pushed the corners of his own mouth up with his fingers.

“You’re smiling.”

“Wha……!”

In an instant, Louis hid his mouth with a hand. No matter how he tried to look unruffled, it seemed he was unable to conceal the sheer delight brimming within him.

“A-Anyway! Since this is something William nii-san and Mr Herder have prepared, let’s use it right away!”

Louis said that in an especially loud voice, in a bid to hide his embarrassment; then, following the instructions on the piece of paper he’d been given, he added the liquid medicine into the tank.

“Now all we can do is hope it’ll work.”

“It’ll be fine, for sure,” Fred said brightly.

For once, Louis did not argue back.

Footnotes:

[1] Malachite green can be used as an antimicrobial in aquaculture (Wikipedia). But it is toxic and potentially carcinogenic(!!), hence it’s been banned for this purpose in many countries today.

#moriarty the patriot #yuukoku no moriarty #yuumori #english translation #a study in scarlet #illustration insert

[writing-in-april]

My Date with the President’s Daughter

Spencer Reid x Female Reader (Spencer POV)

Summary: Spencer has a date with the President’s daughter, who he’s been dating for a while in partial secret. He hasn’t seen her in person for a while so he’s had to settle for another form of communication.

A/N: Ok just to get this out of the way— this is not a politically charged fic, I don’t express my own political beliefs in this fic nor do I express my opinion on the beliefs of others. The president in this fic is entirely made up and I just thought it would be cool to release it on Inauguration Day like the nerd I am. I do not want a political debate in the comments, this blog is not meant for that. This fic is for fun and to make people a little happier in these trying times. Please respect my wishes. This was a really fun way to write a twist on Spencer dating someone famous and- I wonder if anyone can spot the West Wing reference I used 🤔Thanks to @spencers-dria again for always helping me out with my fics 🥰This is also apart of my unlinked fic series called Spencer Reid & Letters! Requests are open and thank you for reading!

Warning: Vague political talk, References to keeping their relationship secret earlier, Avoiding the paparazzi- that should be it.

Main Masterlist Spencer Reid & Letters Word count: 1.6k

She didn’t have to put her short little letter to me on the back of a postcard, but she always did it this way. I remember when she first told me why she did it. We were sitting cuddled up on my couch at the early start of our relationship. I had asked her why she always insisted she send her letters on the back of a tiny card, she would’ve had so much more room if she got out a piece of paper.

She said she got into the habit of sending them to her father whenever he was away on business. Her handwriting had been horrible as a child according to her and her father had suggested she try to fit all of her thoughts onto a postcard. So, now she sent all of her letters neatly handwritten with the smallest of letters, so small you could almost barely read them, on the back of a postcard.

The postcard I had gotten late today, delivered by one of the last people on duty this late at night, was a picturesque view of the White House. The grass bright green and the outside covered in pure crisp white, a statuesque image of American democracy. Now, she didn’t send this to me because she wanted to express her political views and patriotism in a postcard, it just so happened to be where her father lived.

The fact that she was the President’s daughter used to intimidate me a lot when I first met her. I hadn’t immediately connected the dots in my head that she was the first daughter when we first met, though I could tell I had seen her somewhere before. Though, my first assumption was that maybe she had been a regular at my favorite coffee shop, not the daughter to the President of the United States. Literally my biggest boss.

First time I met him was also my first time in the east wing; she had some help from her secret service detail to sneak me in through the back. I only ever nervously stutter when I’m in intimidating or stressful situations and I’m pretty sure I barely got a sentence out the first ten minutes after I had met him. Luckily, he did seem to like me, though I’m not really sure why. Y/N told me once it was because he found my intelligence extraordinary and my constant willingness to share facts endearing. I always blush when I remember that, she was always so sweet to me and the fact that her family loved me as well caused my heart to swell exponentially. I stared at the captured view for a few seconds longer before the dots had fully connected in my head, I may have an eidetic memory, but sometimes it took me a minute to get her subtle hints. She didn’t actually live at the White House, she had her own house in D.C. But, this postcard meant one thing. She’s home.

Each postcard she sent me had a picture of wherever she was while she was traveling the world, it was a small gesture that made me feel closer to her, I always tried to imagine I was there with her at every location she sent. She had been out of the country for at least a month on business and even before that we hadn’t seen each other for a while, I had been stuck on a long case that kept me away from her for half a month.

A month and a half, that’s how long it's been since I’ve had her in my arms. I turned over the card expecting to see it filled with more words than most people would think could fit on the back of a postcard to let me know when I could see her, but this was not the case. Instead, the back of the card contained less words than normal. Only the words- meet me at 10pm at our usual spot.

My body moved faster than my brain, getting up to pack up all my things to rush to our usual spot. My watch sat over my cardigan sleeve on my wrist and it blinked up at me letting me know I only had 30 minutes till I had to get to the other side of town.I still had some paperwork left, but enough that I could push it off till the next day. Once I had gotten all my stuff together I scurried over to leave through the glass doors.

“Are you heading home, Spence?” A voice from inside the bullpen called out startling me out of my thoughts, I had thought everyone had left for the night. I turned around to look at the owner of the voice, JJ, who had come back from the break room to finish her large stack of paperwork that still remained.

“Actually no- I have a date.” A small shy smile made its way onto my face, I still felt very shy when I talked about my relationship with the team. When I had first told them after around 8 months into our relationship, they had thought I was pulling their legs. Once they did realize that I was in fact, not bullshitting them as Morgan had suspected, the questions had immediately come down on me. The ogling at my relationship never really ceased in the months after it had come out to the team, and the rest of the world. We mostly still tried to keep it under wraps, but the fact that the press now knew about me after some photos got leaked from a date only made the team ogle even more.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to who you go on dates with, it’s like something out of a movie.” JJ joked, then yawning again and leaning her face into her palms. “Well- I still have a lot of paperwork to do, you go enjoy your night, Spencer. I know you haven’t seen her in a while.”

My mind had already begun to shift away from JJ as soon as she brought her up, I was practically vibrating in anticipation, I couldn’t wait to see her.

—-

The rare book store on the east side of Quantico had been my favorite for years, ever since I had moved out here from Vegas actually. So much so that the owners, an older couple named Margaret and Dan, both knew me by name and knew almost exactly what books I wanted every time. The both of them had immediately jumped at the chance when I had hesitantly asked them to let the both of us meet up here, I had been desperately trying to find a place outside of my apartment where we could meet up.

When I entered the shop through the back it was already deserted just for us, she must have contacted Maggie and Dan to ask them if we could have the store for the night. The store was packed full of the rare books the owners had both acquired over the years, ranging from old tales and poems written by Edgar Allan Poe, the dark brother’s Grimm tales, to almost any old book that you could think of. It was almost to the point where I thought maybe Maggie and Dan should upgrade to a bigger shop.

“Long time no see.” A voice piped up from the mostly dark corner where she sat in a dark green armchair only partially illuminated by a standing lamp. Broad grins broke out on both of our faces before we both ran to each other, engulfing ourselves into an overwhelming bear hug.

“I missed you so much you don't even know.” Tears prickled at the edge of my eyes, though I wasn’t afraid to admit that us being apart for so long made me tear up.

“I've got a pretty good idea, I missed you so much as well.” She sniffed and then sighed into the crook of my neck. I moved my hand up to cradle her head to try and bring her as close as possible to me, even though there was already not even an inch of space between the two of us.

A nagging thought was dancing around in my brain, the card was so short and abrupt. It wasn’t like her to not be long winded whenever she wrote to me, she even had a tendency to be worse than I was sometimes.

“Why was the card so short? You feeling ok?”

“I just couldn’t wait to see you… It’s been so long since I’ve seen you...” Her tone of voice made me sad, it had been so lonely for me as well when we were apart.  “I never want to be away from you for that long ever again.”

“Move in with me.” The words blurted out of my mouth before I could really think about my words. I didn’t care whether it would be feasible or not, I just knew I never wanted us to be apart for so long ever again.

“Well-“ I cringed a little at her words sensing a rejection, I worried that I had just screwed it all up by asking. However, again she surprised me, “We might need to get a new place to settle my father’s worries about security.”

I breathed out a breathy laugh of relief at her words, enveloping her into a bruising kiss, my worry and anxiety immediately melting away. I couldn’t wait for the next chapter of my life with the President’s daughter.

—-

Tag list (Message me if you want to be added):

All works: @shotarosleftpinky

Spencer Reid/CM:

@calm-and-doctor @destiny-tsukino @safertokiss

Spencer Reid & Letters Series:

@sierraraeck @90spumkin @whoreforthebau

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid & letters series #spencer reid & letters #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler x reader #series #criminal minds series

[yannowhatigiveup]

My One And Only - Chapter 6

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Thank you so much for all the notes and reblogs! As I’m writing this I’m currently writing chapter 14. As more chapters are being written, I try to make them longer. Before my target was around 1000 words then it progressed to 1700 and then to 2000 so newer chapters will be updated less frequently.

Alya shook her head. "That isn't what I'm trying to say. What I'm trying to find out is who does she is love now?"

————————————————————

Marinette had been the one to collect the dinner despite Damian's constant requests to help. Despite her short size, Marinette managed to transport the food from the door to the dinning table in his hotel room, which Damian found surprising as she was way much stronger than she looked. Damian thanked her for bringing the food and sat in the chair directly in front of her so that it would be much easier to talk, after pushing her chair in for her.

"So, Shaytan" Marinette said while struggling to cut the vegetarian steak. "What did you want to ask?".

Damian smiled and got up to place his hands on hers, then he helped cut the steak before sitting back down. She giggled. "Earlier you asked what my reason for coming to Paris was. I shall fully answer that question now. My reason for coming was to gain more information about the alleged attacks happening here" Damian was slightly shocked at how Marinette's facial expressions changed from happy and bubbly to serious, though he didn't show it. This was a serious topic after all.

"Well first of all, the attacks are happening, they have been for over a year now." Damian's shock was plastered all over his face 'They've been dealing with this for over a year?' "Second of all" she took a piece of steak and swallowed it before continuing. "The Paris police force aren't dealing with this by themselves, there are superheroes here"

"Well Angel, who are they?"

"Well when the attacks first started a superhero duo was always there to defeat them. A girl called Ladybug and a boy called Chat Noir" she took another bite of steak. "But since the villains have gotten a lot stronger, they've expanded to a superhero team. On hero's day was one of the most biggest attacks and at the time, the superhero team was at five members. The other heroes were Rena Rouge, Carapace and Queen Bee." Damian was impressed at how much Marinette could say without needing to take breaths of air.

"And who is the one responsible for these attacks?"

"Hawkmoth" Marinette said taking yet another piece of steak. "When someone's negative emotions passes a certain limit, Hawkmkth uses an Akuma to akumatize that person, turning them into a villain with powers. If you're wondering, an akuma is a butterfly filled with Hawkmoth's power. I heard he can control them to go to a certain victim but if the akuma is far away, he can't control the villain or get in contact with the akuma." Marinette took another piece of steak, in her defense it was really good, for a vegetarian steak. "But recently there has been a new villain working on his side, Mayura. She creates something similar to an akuma but it's call an amok and it's in the shape of a feather. What the amok does is create a sentimonster. A sentimonster is fueled by emotions and can be controlled only by the person who holds the object with the amok inside"

"Yes that does make sense. So how many superheroes has there been in total and what are the ages of all of them, including Hawkmoth and Mayura?"

"I believe there have been ten different superheroes." She began listing them all out loud. "Ladybug, Chat Noir, Rena Rouge, Carapace, Queen Bee, Viperion, Pegasus, Ryuko, King Monkey and Multimouse. Yep ten but most of them have only appeared once. And they're all in between the ages of 14-16, I'd say. Hawkmoth and Mayura however are adults"

"So you're saying that two adults are putting the lives of a maximum of ten kids in danger" Marinette nodded. "But what is his motive?"

"I honestly have no idea" Marinette put bluntly while putting another piece of steak in her mouth. She then glanced at the time and realised she had to go home soon. She looked at the half eaten steak, she sighed "I have to go Damian I'm so sorry, I'm can tell you every thing I know through text if you want me to,"

"No it's fine, you go home and home a good sleep. We can talk tomorrow" Damian was surprised when Marinette hugged him before leaving. Of course, he hugged her back.

A few hours after Marinette left, Damian opened the computer to a shared document, surprisingly, Tim was on it at the time. The system showed that Tim was typing something.

Tim: Wow, no rest for Demon Spawn eh?

Damian rolled his eyes at his older brother's comment. He dragged his mouse down the document, searching for a certain column labeled 'current situation'. There he could give a general idea of how bad it was here at Paris. Marinette and told him so much already but his gut told him that she had more to tell. Though he didn't like the thought of becoming soft, he didn't mind being that soft around Mari. 'Everyone else? Hell no'. He quickly found the column he was looking for. He then selected an option out of the possible five, 'critical'. This meant that Paris was in serious danger. He knew that Tim was watching, probably drowning himself in coffee, but the dark-haired boy was surprised when Tim didn't sent a message straight away. As the three dots appeared, indicating that Tim had begun to type, Damian signed off. He liked it when he seemed mysterious.

Then Damian remembered that Marinette never got to finish her steak. Not wanting to waste it, he decided to have it as a midnight snack.

~~~

"Oh Tikki! I had an amazing time with Damian" the bluenette gushed to her kwami.

"You seemed very happy in his company Marinette!" Tikki squeaked. "But how will you be able to move on after he's gone back to Gotham?"

Marinette frowned. "Well, I'll worry about that when the time comes". She then thought about all the fun she had at the dark-haired boy's hotel room then the thought about how he made her blush like mad. Again the moment made her blush again, just not as much as earlier. Then the thought hit her. "Tikki, when I put Damian's head on my lap, do you think he thought it meant something else?"

"You let him rest his head in you're lap? Wow I never saw that!" Marinette went red again, this time she didn't have Damian's shoulder to hide herself. 'I guess that's my new coping mechanism, but I'm not complaining. He's also really hot when he smirks- gAH'

~~~

It was 4 pm. Tim wasn't really tired, he was just a caffeine addict, this was his fifth cup in the span of a single hour. If Damian was here, he would likely look at him with judging eyes. 'But he isn't here so hah, take that Demon Spawn'. Just when he said that in his mind, a message arrived saying that Damian was online.

"Speak of the devil" Tim muttered, taking another sip of coffee. He decided to write him a message.

Tim: Wow, no rest for Demon Spawn eh?

Though he wasn't really expecting him to reply, he didn't expect Damian to do what he did next. Tim watched as Damian changed the situation column for 'No Information' to 'Critical'. "What the-" Tim saw that Dick was in the room. "Dick could you pull up a live feed from Paris?"

"Aight"

The TV showed a peaceful and quiet Paris, not like the one you would expect if it were labeled under 'critical'. Tim was so confused he began to type a message but noticed that Damian had signed off. Dick, seeing Tim's confused nature, came over to look at the computer. "What was he referring to? What the hell is going on?"

———

Taglist: @little-bluestar, @miracleofadisaster, @frieddonutsweets

#daminette #damian x marinette #maribat #maridami #marinette x damian #mlb x dc

[darriness]

Klaine Advent 2021 - Day 1 - Silence

Author: darriness

Word Count: 503

Summary: Christmas Eve #1

Author's Note: So I'm going to give this a shot this year! Unlike other years, I can't promise how much stamina I'll have for writing/finishing but it felt weird to NOT give it a try. This year I've decided to write 24 Christmas Eves as lived by the Anderson-Hummel family. I wrote this one while watching the season 3 Glee Christmas episode and it filled with me joy so hopefully it does for you as well! Happy December 1st everyone! <3

AO3 Link

Blaine enters the soft glow of the living room, lit only by the Christmas tree in the corner (presents piled underneath) and the television (the beginning of Love Actually paused on screen). He’s carrying two glasses of wine, one of which Kurt, who is sitting on the couch, holds his hand out for with an expectant, grateful smile.

The smile turns confused the longer Blaine stands in the entryway looking thoughtful.

“What’s going on?” Kurt asks.

Blaine lifts a finger off one of the glasses while looking up at the ceiling, “Shhhh, listen.” He whispers.

The room falls silent again and as a smile stretches across Blaine’s face, Kurt just gets more confused, “What are we listening too? All I hear is silence.”

Blaine looks back at Kurt with a bigger smile, “Exactly.”

And then Kurt gets it. Their house has been nothing BUT noise for days now. The excitement of Christmas with a nine- and five-year-old is truly unmatched and between friends and family their house has had more than it’s four usual occupants on a near constant basis.

Now, however, it’s almost 11 pm on Christmas Eve and with the guests gone and the kids tucked into bed (surely dreaming of sugar plums fairies and all those good things) the house is silent and still.

“I almost don’t want to turn on the movie.” Blaine says, quietly, finally approaching Kurt and handing him his glass as he sits next to him.

Kurt hums, “Whether we turn it on or not, we’ll be asleep in about twenty minutes and you know it.”

Blaine gives an exhausted chuckle, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and pointer finger, “It’s going to be such an early morning.”

“And such a long day.” Kurt adds.

Blaine gives him a soft smile, “I’m so excited.”

They may be in their 30s and Christmas means different things now that they’re older and parents, but it’s still their favourite time of year (especially getting to experience the magic through their children).

Kurt smiles too, “Me…”

He’s cut off by a sound from the second floor of their house. They both pause and look up at the ceiling in time to hear the sound again.

The creak of a floorboard.

Kurt and Blaine look at each other with matching smirks and lifted eyebrows before Kurt calls up to the ceiling, “Go back to bed or Santa won’t come!”

They hear matching gasps from above them followed by Lizzy muttering, “Your clunky footsteps gave us away.”

“They did not!” Matty exclaims much louder than his sister.

Kurt and Blaine chuckle, “Bed!” They both say to the ceiling.

They hear the floorboard creak again before they hear two doors close above them.

They listen to the following silence for a moment longer before Kurt sighs and picks up the remote, “Ready to fall asleep before Bill Nighy finishes singing about Christmas being all around?”

Blaine chuckles, laying his head on Kurt’s shoulder and his hand on his husband’s thigh, “Absolutely.” He says.

#klaine advent 2021 #klaine advent: silence #klaine #klaine fanfic #klaine fanfiction #my loves #my stuff

[amor-immortalem]

Can I Stay Up Here With You Forever ch.8

Previous

Warning(s): Nothing just fluff

If you want to be tagged or if you’re already tagged and wish not to be, please let me know.

Tag list @mediocredetective @it-hurts-when-i-blink @ima-simp-uwu @luckyauthorlampknight

The pair of brothers spent the rest of the night in Mammon’s room. Around dinner time they were joined by the twins who had brought tonight’s dinner. They had decided to eat with their second eldest brother, having heard from Satan who had heard from Lucifer that Mammon had had a particularly rough day at school and figured sharing a hot meal together would be a good way to comfort him. Even Levi stopped by after they had finished eating, bringing plenty of games that he and Mammon enjoyed playing together -along with the appropriate console- after they had first fallen so Levi wouldn’t go feral from his self-isolation.

It felt like they were a proper family once more- light teasing and proper brotherly bickering occurring between the five of them, making sure to keep things at a level that was normal for siblings and a far cry from the vicious words they would throw Mammon’s way. They had all spent so long playing that eventually they had all fallen asleep together on or around Mammon’s couch with Belphie being the first to conk out for the night.

When they all awoke in the morning, Asmo told their brothers about the plan to help Mammon escape to the human world and about how they were going to be uncles.

“Let me go with you,” Beel responded eagerly, “If Lucifer finds out before you guys can get away, my strength will come in handy to buy you all a little time.”

“Beel, as much as I appreciate it, I can’t let you do that ta yourself.” Mammon says, a worried look in his blue and gold eyes. “Ya know what happens if ya stand against our brother’s authority. I mean look at what he did to Belphie when he went against Lucifer and Lord Diavolo over the exchange programme.”

“Yeah, locking me in the attic was a shitty move on his part but still, Lucifer is acting like a fucking tyrant.” Belphegor agreed. “I mean we’re all pretty scared of the monster he’s turning into, but what he’s doing to you is wrong. And we heard about the gaslighting incident at school yesterday. That was really fucked up- and you’re the favorite. Imagine what will happen to us after he finds out.”

The brothers all nodded at that.

“An’ that’s why I don’t want y’all doin’ it.” Mammon said sternly. “You two’re the youngest an’ while yer both strong in yer own right, the two of ya can’t hold a candle ta our brother.”

“What if Satan and I went along with you?” Levi asked, “Sure, Lucifer’s power output is over 9000 but Asmo, Satan, and I should be enough to at least match that for enough time for you and Solomon to get through the portal...”

“That would work.” Asmo nodded as they had a contemplative look on their face. “Actually, we’d stand a better chance if the twins go too.”

“You guys would really do this for me?” The Avatar of Greed looks around the room at all of his brothers before letting out a soft chuckle, “Guess Lucifer was right ‘bout one thing... you guys really do care.” He can’t help the tearful smile that creeps its way onto his features.

“Of course we do. We always did but we never showed it in the way we should have,” the fifth-born threw their arms around their older brother and was soon joined by their other brothers. “I mean we’re the ones who promised we’d change and we went back on that almost immediately.”

“We’re a family and you’re an important part of that too.” The Avatar of Envy says as they all press their foreheads together like they did back in the Celestial Realm before they went to war. “You keep things lively for us.”

“So it’s decided, right?” Beel asks, “We’re really going to do this? Together?”

“Together.” A sixth voice echoes from the upper level as the five of them pull away and turn their attention to Satan. He has a genuine smile on his face as he slides down on the railing of Mammon’s staircase like he used to do as a toddler. “Lucifer’s gone, by the way. Went up to the Demon Lord’s castle for a weekend meeting with Diavolo. If we’re going to make our move, it has to be tomorrow. So, everyone, get packed. I already booked four of us a hotel to stay at so Arella doesn’t have to put us up for however many months it is before the baby’s born. Asmo, you said you’d be staying with Solomon, right?”

“Right,” The Avatar of Lust nods. “Alright everyone, get ready.”

And just like that, the siblings dispersed to go about their packing.

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

Arella can’t wait. After hearing of the news from Solomon a few days ago, the excitement started to grow. What she didn’t know was if Mammon had found out if she was pregnant yet. What would his reaction be? Surprise? Excitement? Something else? Anxiety filled her as it had been doing over these past few months so she picks up her D.D.D. that no longer has service and opened up her photo gallery which also had little videos of her and Mammon together.

The sound of his voice is comforting to her. It makes things feel much less lonely in the silent house- even with Aubrie visiting- but it also has the added effect of helping their baby recognize his father’s voice. With the little one showing signs of being able to hear the outside world earlier than expected and hijacking her magic to protect them when he felt frightened, the last thing she needed was the sound of a voice he didn’t recognize setting off one of the many protective spells in her repertoire. His favourite thing to do was erect a magical barrier around them to keep a threat away. Thank heavens normal humans weren’t able to see things like that.

As she selected a video- one of all the brothers and her together at Diavolo’s birthday party last year- she set it on top of the small bump that she had started showing a couple weeks ago. She could feel her son’s powerful little kicks to the side of her womb.

“Easy now, little one. You’re going to cause bruising with kicks like that.” Arella says as she rubs a hand over the front of her belly and she feels a turning sensation shortly after. “You certainly are active this evening. Your Daddy’s coming back to us tomorrow, okay? And five of your uncles as well so don’t be scared when you hear their voices. They won’t hurt you or me. They may be demons but deep down they’re a good lot.”

As the video playing on the D.D.D ended, Arella picked up a children's book and began reading aloud to her unborn child.

“Rells, I’m going to go back to my hotel. Do you need anything before I go?” Aubrie asked as she leaned against the door frame. “I’ll be back tomorrow to help you out before the boys get here- tomorrow is the day, right?”

“I don’t need anything but yes, tomorrow’s the day.” Arella smiles.

“Oh, I bet you’re excited.” The ginger smiles. “Alright, I’ll get going. See you tomorrow.”

Arella only nodded as she watched Aubrie go.

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

The House of Lamentation held a slight air of chaos to it this morning due to the brothers running around for last minute packing. They barely had time for breakfast but since Mammon had the least number of items to pack, he was voted for breakfast duty while Satan covered dish duty. Today’s breakfast: Pancakes, scrambled eggs, and bacon. As everyone sat down to eat, there was constant chatter about things they would do while up in the mortal realm during the months they would be staying.

While they were cleaning up, Solomon made his appearance. Asmo welcomed him with a hug as they quickly pulled the sorcerer along to Mammon’s room to get him so they could go. They both watch as he doesn’t react to their entrance instead seeming lost in his thoughts as he runs his thumb over an old, worn piece of grimm. Not even calling his name was enough to pull him from his zoned-out state. It wasn’t until Solomon placed a careful hand on the second-born's shoulder that Mammon looked up at them.

“Are you ready to go?” Solomon asks with a smile.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” The demon returns the smile, “Whenever everyone else is ready...”

Soon the rest of the brothers join them and it's time to go. Everyone grabs their bags or suitcases and load them up in the van that had been rented for them. Solomon was in charge of driving them to their destination.

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

Next

Find more on my Masterlist

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me! shall we date? #obey me fluff #obey me mammon #mammon fluff #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me solomon

[awritingtree]

Promises

Draco Malfoy x sister!reader

@kashishwrites 300 writing challenge: Hurt/comfort prompt 12. “Why didn't you tell me?” and angst prompt 6. “Is this how little you think of me?” The prompts have been bolded.

Summary: Draco witnesses his sister get bullied and finds out that she’s been keeping it from him all these years. Draco finally steps up and owns up to his role as her older brother, the one whose supposed to protect her and be her shoulder to lean on.

Words: 2.8k

Warnings: ANGST, bullying, depression, fluff, blood and house discrimination. If bullying or depression talk will trigger you, please don’t read.

A/N: this took so much longer to write than expected. Uni is really kicking my butt with the amount of work each professor is deciding to assign. I wanted to do this more justice but I just couldn’t write this any better. It could’ve been way better but oh well, it’s decent at least. Hope you guys like it xx

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

“Draco!” a voice cut called out, through the Slytherin common room. Draco, who was sitting with Parkinson, Crabbe and Goyle, near the fireplace looked up to see Blaise Zabini, another one of the Slytherins.

“You need to come with me,” he said while trying to catch his breath, “It’s Y/N.”

Draco shot up from his seat instantly and followed Zabini out of the common room, past the Great Hall and towards the Ravenclaw Tower. Draco could see a small crowd up ahead of the corridor as they turned a corner. He could hear laughs coming from a few of the students. When they were close enough Draco realized what was going on.

There in the centre of the circle were three Gryffindor 7th year boys, making fun of someone, throwing their bag’s contents onto the floor. Draco slipped his wand out as soon as he saw the bag, gripping it so tightly he was surprised it didn’t snap in half. His shoulders tensed from an anger so intense, it could have obliterated everything around him for miles.

“Oh, look here. Malfoy’s got a muggle book. Going to use it to help Mummy and Daddy find new ways to torture, are you?”

“Give it back,” spoke Draco, his voice so low from the rage brewing inside, everyone flinched due to its ferocity. He glared at the three boys in front of him. ‘Filthy, disgusting excuses of wizards. How dare they pick on a Malfoy!?’ thought Draco.

Y/N’s tear-filled eyes widened at the sight in front of her. Her back was pressed against the wall, hoping it would swallow her whole taking her far away from everyone.

“Leave,” threatened Draco, raising his wand slightly. Zabini came and stood beside Draco; wand raised too.

The three red-and-gold-clad boys looked at each other. They threw Y/N’s bag onto the floor before turning around and walking away, deciding the fight was not worth it. The crowd cleared off, now that the drama was over.

Y/N slid down the wall and buried her face in her knees. She could hear Zabini and her brother conversing, but she didn’t dare to look up. How could she? How could she face her brother after what had just happened? He would surely hate her. She was a Malfoy, she couldn’t afford to look weak in front of anyone, much less be bullied in front of an audience.

Y/N continued to cry into her knees even as she heard someone slide down the wall next to her. Draco wrapped his arm around Y/N, pulling her into his side. His other hand went up to stroke her hair in a soothing manner. He couldn’t bear to hear her cry, he wanted to take all her pain away, but alas he couldn’t. The least he thought he could do is provide her some comfort and so that he did.

“How long has this been going on?” Draco asked, once Y/N calmed down a bit.

“Since first year,” Y/N admitted quietly, looking down at her fidgeting hands.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t think you’d care.”

“I’m your brother,” countered Draco.

“Yes but you’re a git too, no offense, and you know it. You go around being unpleasant to other people; muggleborns, half-bloods, ‘blood-traitors’ as you say. You bully others for being who they are, something they have no choice over. I didn’t think you’d care because you act the same way as those boys do. What makes you different from those boys? Why would you care enough to help me when I am so weak?”

“Is this how little you think of me? I’m your brother, Y/N. Of course, I’m going to care,” said Draco, hurt by what his sister was telling him.

“You certainly haven’t acted like you do for quite some time now,” Y/N couldn’t help but scoff.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Draco, puzzled. He thought they were fine, on good terms; they talked occasionally given that he was a Slytherin and she was sorted into Ravenclaw in his second year. Draco remembered how furious his father had been; he sent a Howler the very next day. Though, he calmed down a bit soon after because (apparently) Ravenclaw was better than Hufflepuff or Gryffindor.

Something snapped inside of Y/N when she heard those words pour out from Draco’s mouth. Years of pent-up feelings, trying to pretend everything was alright, bubbled over; years of not letting the tears fall - the dam finally broke.

“You haven’t been around, Draco. Yes, we still talk but it isn’t the same as before. I tried making friends, finding a life without someone who's always been there, right by my side. But in the end, everyone left. It was my fault they left too; I am too much deal with, I know that. I wouldn’t put up with me either,” she cried, “I feel so alone, even in a castle filled with students at every corner. Everyone says Hogwarts feels like home, but it doesn’t to me, it never has. But then again, I don’t know what home feels like anymore, not since I got sorted into Ravenclaw. I really thought we could get through anything, but that was false. I just keep hoping that things will get better but instead I set myself up for more and more disappointment. I’m tired, Draco. I’m so very tired. I’m tired of feeling nothing but this constant emptiness instead of me. I want to feel something other than this constant loneliness and sadness. I- I don’t think I’m okay. I don’t think I have been for a while. But does it really even matter? Nobody’s noticed,” she let out a hollow laugh, one that shook Draco to the core.

"Nobody ever notices anything except Malfoy’s weak little sister; weird and a loner," she said weakly.

Draco could feel his heart clench at his baby sister’s words. The same baby sister that he promised to always protect, the same baby sister that he promised he would never leave her side, the baby sister who he promised he would love unconditionally. But it seemed that Draco was a master at breaking promises.

“I- um,” he stuttered at a loss of words.

Draco took a deep breath, trying to pull himself together. This was not the time to break down, his little sister needed him.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything,” Y/N whispered out, shaking her head making a move to stand up.

“What are you sorry for? Why shouldn’t you have said anything?” Draco asked. He put a hand on her forearm, stopping her movements to stand up.

“I shouldn’t. It doesn’t matter, Draco. It’ll all be fine soon. I’ll get over it,” she smiled weakly, though Draco could see through it all.

“No you’re not. You’re not fine. I-,” Draco said softly, shaking his head slightly, “Talk to me Y/N, please.”

“I said I’m fine, Draco. Just, leave me alone!” Y/N exclaimed, ripping her arm out of his grip and getting up. Draco quickly stood up, reaching out to her as she walked towards her bag thrown across the floor.

“Y/N/N, please. I just want to help,” Draco tried reasoning calmly. He couldn’t get mad at her. He wasn’t. He knew she was only doing this because she was tired of letting people in who only turned their backs on her when she needed them the most. He had been one of these people, he knew he was. He failed to realize how bad things had gotten for her. Y/N had always been a bit more emotional than others ever since she was young, taking things to heart. Whenever their father, Lucius Malfoy, got furious she would be off for days; wallowing in sadness, guilt, and a dislike towards herself for being the way that she was - for not being better. She cried a lot too. Things affected her more deeply, the smallest of words setting her off. She felt too deeply.

“I want to understand,” he said.

Y/N scoffed.

“Understand? You want to understand? I don’t even understand what this is, Draco! Sometimes I wake up and I feel like I’m on top of the world, but then suddenly the will to do anything but lay in bed disappears. All I want then is to crawl back to bed and never wake up again. I feel like crying, but with no reason as to why. I’ll be fine one second then crying my eyes out the next. I want to understand why I feel this way. My thoughts always go back to everything those three boys tell me every single day without fail. Why do they pick on me? Is it me? But of course it’s me, what else could it be?”

Draco was stunned into silence. He didn’t know what to say; what could he say? Y/N took a deep breath, looking down at the floor, her shoulders slumped forwards.

“It hurts, it hurts so much,” she choked out, trying to keep herself together.

Draco frowned, “What hurts?”

“I don’t know, everywhere.”

Draco grew even more confused. He approached her hesitantly, stopping a few feet away in case she lashed out again.

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged, looking up at her brother. Her eyes were filled with tears she was trying to keep at bay.

“It- It feels like this ache in my chest, spreading. And it just makes me want to cry more. It’s more of an internal pain, one that I can’t seem to get rid of, no matter how hard I try. I try to. I do. I try to be happy, to still go on about my day hoping it’ll get better. But it doesn’t. I just feel like an outsider in this world full of happy, living people. And I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Draco stepped towards her; his arms outstretched. Y/N fell into them, clinging to her older brother. Draco wrapped his arm around her while his other arm stroked her hair, soothing and comforting her.

‘How long had she felt this way?’ he wondered.

He then remembered all the times he’s seen her throughout the past few years; always alone, barely laughing or smiling, days where she looked exhausted, days where she looked like she wanted nothing more than to go back to bed. Throughout all this, there was the dull look in her eyes, one that was still there at this moment.

He felt his heart clench in his chest. How could he have not noticed? Everything was right there in front of his eyes, but he had been too selfish; too far up his own arse to notice that the only person in the world he could love more than himself (even though he hadn’t been showing that the best for a few years now) was losing love for herself and life.

He felt horrible. He failed to protect her from the horrors of the world, and he hated himself for it. He brought her closer to hold her tighter against him as her body shook with every sob she let out. Holding her so tightly, hoping to make up for the fact that he wasn’t there to hold her all the previous times she’d broken down like this, all alone in her dorm, with a silencing charm and the curtains drawn. A few of his own tears streamed down his face onto her head but neither Draco nor Y/N she took any notice.

“I’m here. I’m here now and I’m not going anywhere. I promise,” whispered Draco over and over again, trying to make up for all the times he broke his previous promises.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

It’d been a few months since Draco made those promises to Y/N, never failing to fulfill them each and every day. He invited her to sit at the Slytherin table while other times he’d sit at the Ravenclaw table during meals. He spent time with her after class, in the library or down by the Black Lake when the weather allowed it; talking, doing their homework, or just sitting in silence. They became attached to the hip, even more than the infamous Weasley twins.

Today was one of those days where nothing seemed to be going right for Y/N. Starting with waking up late causing her to skip breakfast, to failing one of her major Potions tests. It didn’t help that those three Gryffindor boys caught her on the way to the Transfiguration, taunting her and leaving after burning her journal that was filled with ideas of new stories she’d wanted to write to ashes. All Y/N wanted to do was go to bed and cry, cuddling with her bunny stuffed toy. But of course, she never got what she wanted.

“Y/N/N!” Draco’s voice called after her.

Y/N stopped and turned around to wait for Draco to catch up with her.

“Where are you going? I thought we were-” he stopped once he took in her appearance, “Is everything okay?”

Y/N shook her head, clutching to her bag’s shoulder straps.

“What is it? What happened?” Draco asked, concerned.

“I just want to go to bed, Dray.”

“What, why? It’s only 4 o’clock, Y/N.”

“I know. I- I’m just tired,” Y/N replied weakly. She was truly exhausted due to the day she had.

“Oh. Well, come on,” Draco said grabbing her hand and pulling her along with him.

“Where are we going?”

“To my dorms. You can sleep there. I’ll bring you some hot chocolate later too. I’m not leaving you alone.”

Y/N felt her heart warm up, a small smile making its way onto her face. Maybe, he really was going to keep his promises this time. Maybe, someone did notice, someone did care.

Draco was becoming a better person after spending so much time with his little sister. His care and love for her seemed to outshine any of the prejudice and hatred instilled in him by their father. This was witnessed by many a few days ago.

Y/N was making her way towards the Great Hall from the greenhouses when she heard a voice.

“Watch where you’re going mudblood,” the voice spit.

Y/N turned a corner to see Pansy Parkinson, the girl that obsessively pined over her brother, glaring at Hermione Granger, Harry Potter’s best friend.

“Watch your mouth,” said the redhead.

‘Ron Weasley’ realized Y/N.

“Draco, did you hear what this Weasel just said to me!?” Parkinson shrieked. Y/N winced at the tone of her voice, noticing Draco do the same thing which brought a tiny smile to her face.

“Let it go,” drawled Draco, rolling his eyes.

“What do you mean ‘let it go’? She bumped into me! She did it purposely just because she’s a filthy little mudblood.”

Draco sighed irritated, “That makes no sense. No one is going to bump into someone just because they’re a muggleborn. Now let’s go Pansy.”

Everyone gaped at Draco. He didn’t seem to realize he’d just said, grabbing Pansy by her arm and dragging her away towards the Great Hall.

Y/N shot a sweet smile towards Granger, Potter and Weasley whom she passed by as she headed towards the Great Hall. However, the trio seemed to be too shocked by Draco’s actions and words to return the kind gesture.

‘He called her a muggleborn without thinking twice about it,’ Y/N thought, smiling to herself as she walked with a small skip in her steps.

“Here. It’s your favourite jumper of mine. Change and get comfy. I’ll grab the blanket you really like from my trunk.”

Y/N took the jumper and sweatpants from Draco, heading towards the bathroom to get changed. She walked out to see Draco waiting for her with the blanket spread on his bed. She sat down beside him, leaning her head on his shoulder as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he whispered.

Y/N shook her head.

“You can cry if you want. I’m not going to judge you for it,” Draco spoke softly.

Y/N didn’t reply. Draco sighed and turned his head to the side, pressing a kiss to her temple. Soon after Draco felt cold wet tears hit his neck. He held Y/N more tightly, trying to convey that she was never alone, not as long as he was in this world.

After a few minutes, Y/N quieted down. “Get in bed,” Draco spoke softly to her.

“No,” she said, “I have work to do. I can’t-”

“It’s okay. I’ll do it for you. Just sleep, okay?”

Y/N hesitated before nodding. She moved under the blanket and curled up in Draco’s bed.

Draco got up and tucked her in properly.

“Sleep, Y/N/N. I’ll be right here,” he mumbled, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Draco got his books, along with Y/N’s from their bags. He sat down on the floor resting against his bed getting ready to do her, and some of his, work as Y/N fell asleep, a content look on her face.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

If you enjoyed reading this fic, please like/comment/reblog! Your opinion/feedback is welcome, appreciated, and motivating :)

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#draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #Draco Malfoy sister #draco #draco fic #draco imagine #malfoy #malfoy imagine #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy fic #draco malfoy fanfic #narcissa malfoy #lucius malfoy #malfoy family #harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter fic #harry potter fanfiction #hp #hp imagine #hp fic #hp fanfic #hp imagines #harry potter imagines #hermione granger #ron weasley #weasley twins #pansy parkinson

[terrm9]

All The World Seems At Ease Tonight

a.k.a. Christmas Fic

Three years of Christmas Eve for Ethan and Chiara.

Warnings: some kissing, some cliché like mistletoes, mutual pining in the first part, other than that just fluff fluff fluff

Words count: 4 300

Author’s note: Here we are, in times when Valentine’s Day fics are being posted, I finished my Christmas Fic. Yay! It was supposed to be made of three equally long parts but I went crazy with the first one (it was my first time writing about Book One and I just truly enjoyed it). However, I hope you enjoy <3

Intern Year

It took longer for Ethan to finally walk the deserted corridor than he expected, but he decided to work on Christmas Eve for a reason – as he did every year – and checking on patients had to be the main priority. Of course it had to.

Yet, his steps carried him more swiftly than usually and he could feel his forehead ache from the constant concerned furrow of his brows. Naveen was feeling especially unwell these past two days and Ethan hated the idea of his older friend left alone and in pain on the day he loved that much.

Not that Ethan understood. Christmas, as every other holidays made no sense to him and if it was up to him, the whole nonsense would be erased and never celebrated again. But Naveen loved the festivities and the ‚merry spirit‘ of them, and so Ethan tried his hardest to keep him company for as long as he could.

Crossing the corridor enough to see the door of Naveen’s room, Ethan’s heart jumped in his chest as he noticed that they were slightly ajar.

Damn the man if he tried to take a walk.

Opening the door to the room fully, a soft breath of relief left Ethan at the sight of Naveen peacefully laying in his bed, his eyes closed but a gentle smile formed on his lips.

And he was not alone.

Ethan’s breath hitched in his throat again.

He couldn’t move, he couldn’t form a coherent sentence, he just kept standing in the doorway, devoured by the scene in front of him.

Chiara was sitting at one of the chairs next to Naveen’s bed, her back turned to the door and a small book in her hand.

And she was reading aloud.

„In fact I have no other choice

than, being alive, to live.

And every day,

into its every moment,

I lead this highly destructible body.

And if hope morse-signals: life

while hopelessness outruns possible death,

my decision is made -

I side with hope.

You can find me anytime

near its hidden paths.

Talking or silent.

I guard the human dream.

And I hold out

where I stand.“

Ethan’s throat tightened and he thanked the universe for the fact that the two doctors – the two doctors that meant so much to him – haven’t yet noticed his presence.

He was not sure what exactly made him feel the emotions currently filling his mind, and he could easily blame it on the merry spirit of Christmas, had he believed in it.

Maybe it was the melody of Chiara’s voice as she read the poem, so soft and gentle and beautiful. Or maybe it was a sight of Naveen, sick and weak and dying and yet looking so peaceful.

Perhaps it was the combination of both, the woman that captured his mind more often than he was willing to admit and the man that was like a father to him, spending time together in a perfect harmony, the air around them so serene it made Ethan wonder if his interruption would even be a welcome one.

„This one was my favorite,“ Naveen spoke into the silence, although he didn’t open his eyes.

„You said that after I finished the one before,“ Chiara chuckled softly, closing the book in her hands.

It was a miracle – not that Ethan believed in those – that Naveen managed to laugh at Chiara’s reponse without coughing. They looked almost... normal. As if his life was not ending anytime soon.

„It truly is a pity that there are only so few of his poems translated to English.“

„When you get through this,“ Chiara replied and Ethan hated that he could hear the sad smile in her words, despite not seeing her face at all. He had no right to know her that well. „You should learn the language and translate all of his poems.“

Naveen only hummed in a response, letting them both believe for a blissful moment that he would get through it.

It was the time for Ethan to make them aware of his presence. He coughed politely and stepped inside, doing his best to maintain a stoic mask on his face.

„Ethan!“ Naveen smiled brightly, just as brightly as Chiara did when she noticed Ethan, and for a moment it was easy to forget who they were, where they were.

„What are you doing here, Dr. Ray?“ Ethan asked instead of greeting and almost immediately winced at the choice of his words, knowing that he sounded rather rude.

When truly, he was simply surprised. He was not aware of Chiara working today.

„I am sorry, Dr. Ramsey,“ her bright smile turned into somehow sheepish one and she put the book on her chest, as if it could serve as a shield protecting her from Ethan’s inevitable anger. „All my patients are stable so I stopped by to keep Dr. Banerji company, at least for a while.“

„And what a pleasing company it was!“ Naveen exclaimed, shooting Ethan a reprimanding look, obviously not pleased by his behavior. „Are you finished with your tradition?“

Ethan tensed visibly and only gave away a stiff nod, the last thing he wished to share the tradition with the younger doctor.

„The... tradition?“ Chiara dared to ask despite his less than kind reaction. „I didn’t take you as someone with Christmas traditions.“

„I am not,“ Ethan spoke flatly, sitting on the chair on the other side of Naveen’s bed.

There were seconds of rather awkward silence between them before Chiara stated that she would leave them alone, wished Naveen Merry Christmas while hugging him and left the room.

It was as if warmth of the air went with her.

It didn’t take long for Naveen to chew Ethan out for how he behaved to Chiara – and Ethan noticed the affection, the gentleness lacing Chiara’s name as Naveen said it. He was right, of course. Ethan was hard for no reason and he wasn’t proud of himself, but what was he supposed to do? Ever since getting back from Miami, it was becoming more and more difficult to control his actions with her.

But Naveen was right. He had no right and he should make it all better.

And so after Naveen made it clear he would like to sleep, Ethan checked the schedule to make sure none of Chiara’s friends were working and then with a bated breath clicked on Chiara’s contact.

E: Where are you?

The reply came almost immediately, a sign that there was not emergency – which Ethan wasn’t sure he considered a good sign or not.

C: The on-call room. Why?

It didn’t really make sense to Chiara, why was Ethan texting her, him of all people. If there was an emergency, he could have easily paged her.

The answer to her question came quickly.

E: I am about to grab some take-out. I was wondering if you would care to join me in my office to share a meal.

Saying that Chiara gasped would be an understatement. She had to blink twice to make sure she was not missing a message stating that he sent it to the wrong number. But no.

C: Are you inviting me over for a Christmas dinner?

E: Do not be ridiculous. Do you like Italian kitchen?

C: Sure.

E: 9 PM, my office, then.

And then nothing. Chiara was almost absolutely sure that she was dreaming, because there was no way the same Dr. Ramsey that has been avoiding her ever since the conference would be inviting her for a – definitely Christmas – dinner.

But free food is free food and she would be lying if she said she wouldn’t welcome a distraction. No matter how hard she tried to stay positive, she missed her family terribly today.

And Ethan was a rather pleasant distraction after all.

 At 10 PM, with her risotto eaten, a paper cup filled with an apple juice – the best option for a toast for them -  she managed to get in the cafateria in her hand, Chiara found herself sitting comfortably at the leather couch in Ethan’s office, one of her leg crossed over the another, her white coat shrugged off and hanging over the arm of the couch.

It surprised her to see Ethan next to her, looking almost equally relaxed. One of his arms was draped over the back of the couch and Chiara could feel the warmth radiating from the skin of his hand, on her neck.

"So... is there a point in asking you about the tradition Dr. Banerji mentioned?" Chiara asked after finishing her drink, mischievous sparks dancing in her irises.

"No," Ethan replied immediately, although his voice wasn't nearly as stern as he wanted it to be. The right corner of his mouth twitched slightly, Chiara noticed, as if her question amused him.

Ethan wanted to share it with her, he almost let it slip, but he made a promise in Miami - to her or rather to himself, he didn't know - and damn him if he didn't keep that promise.

Professionals.

That's all they should, all they could, be.

And as if to prove himself wrong in the very next moment, he spoke again, asking a question that professionals shouldn’t want to ask.

"Are you going to share your reason for not visiting your family over Christmas?"

Chiara shrugged, her smile not quite faltering but losing some of its brightness.

He didn’t mean to pry, but he was curious. Chiara mentioned home and family fairly often and back in Miami, he could hear her on the phone with her mother – and it was exactly the kind of call a child and a parent that love each other share.

He found it only logical that Chiara would want to spend Christmas in San Francisco.

“I am not sure I would get that many free days as an intern.”

“All your friends have gotten three free days, so would you. It is not much, but it enough to take a quick trip to San Francisco.”

She laughed softly, her gaze strained with the thought or memories, Ethan didn’t know.

“We don’t celebrate Christmas at home since…” she stopped herself and cleared her throat and it didn’t take a diagnostician to see that she was looking for a way to tell Ethan enough without telling him the whole truth.

“It has been six years since we celebrated in San Francisco. For these last years, me, my mom and my sister travel abroad at the time of Christmas. This year, they are in Singapore,” she chuckled and turned to Ethan, a smile on her face wide, however her gaze still lost in the haze. “I am sure three days wouldn’t be enough for a quick trip to Singapore.”

Ethan laughed shortly at that and shook his head, no that would not, and he fought the urge to ask more, to get to know her more, to tell her about his mother, because professionals.

That is why Chiara hasn’t asked him back, why are you working today?, because he made it clear he wanted to keep things professional and she was not brave enough to push him again.

“I would want to stay in Boston anyway,” she added after a while, looking away again and she was biting her lips nervously.

Ethan didn’t want her to be nervous around him but damn, her teeth sinking into her lower lip and her cheeks flushed slightly and it took the last remnants of his strength to repeat the word in his head, professional, professional, professional.

“Why?” he asked.

“Well I knew that Dr. Banerji would be here and I thought it would be nice to spend some time with him. And I didn’t know if you would be here so,…”

She trailed off, not knowing what else to say and when she turned to Ethan, it surprised her to see how close he has gotten, his whole upper body slouching to her and his face so close she could feel his breath on her face.

And it would be easy to believe that he was only listening intently, that was the reason of his sudden proximity, it would be right to believe so, but Chiara was anything but stupid.

“Ethan,” she exhaled quietly and noticed how his pupils dilated at the sound of his name rolling off her lips.

She raised her hand and rested it on his cheek slowly, waiting for his reaction.

And in that moment, there were many words swirling through Ethan’s mind but professionals was not one of them.

He leaned closer, so close his lips brushed Chiara’s ever so softly and-

-and her pager went off.

Chiara stood up abruptly and took the pager out of her pocket.

“I guess that’s my call,” she smiled and it didn’t go unnoticed by Ethan that she sounded out of breath, that his effect on her was as strong as hers on him and he cursed himself for letting the damn word slip out of his mind.

He also cursed himself for not kissing her earlier, so that he could feel her lips fully before the pager went off.

“Merry Christmas, Ethan,” Chiara smiled at him for the last time and left the office before he could respond.

And Ethan thought that if he could celebrate the Christmas like this, with her, every years, maybe the holiday wouldn’t need to be erased.

 Second Year

“So you already finished this tradition of yours today?” Chiara asked with that sweet, innocent smile on her lips as she stood between Ethan’s legs as he kept sitting on his chair, gently removing his glasses.

Only then she kissed the bridge of his nose softly, caressing his cheek with such care it almost didn’t make sense to Ethan.

“Yes,” he smiled back at her, enjoying their position and the fact that for once, Chiara was above his eye level and he had to raise his head to meet her gaze.

“And you are not going to tell me what it is?”

“No,” now it was Ethan’s turn to smile all-too-innocently and he knew Chiara was burning with curiosity.

He wouldn’t mind telling her now, but he would lie if he said that he was not enjoying seeing his Chiara, usually so composed and calm, freaking out about his secret Christmas tradition.

She leaned down to capture his lips and Ethan wondered if that was a part of her plan because if she’d continue to roll her tongue like that, he would tell her everything she would wish to hear.

And she knew that.

Ethan grabbed the back of her thighs, making her stumble slightly and sit in his lap and soon their kiss turned into proper make out session, his hands roaming her bare torso hungrily while her hands tugged on his hair, leaving them in the disheveled state she adored so much.

Before their Christmas evening could turn into the gala’s sequel – the memory still fresh in Ethan’s mind – Chiara pulled out with a reluctant sigh.

“My mom and Alicia told me to say Merry Christmas from them to you.”

Ethan nodded in thanks, however he couldn’t contain a sigh leaving him. He knew Chiara missed her family.

“Do you regret staying here instead of going with them?”

“Are you crazy?” Chiara laughed and unlike last year, Ethan remembered, her laugh was sincere and full of joy. “I am cold enough here in Boston. I wouldn’t wish to freeze to death in freakin’ Iceland.”

Not able to stop himself from rolling his eyes, Ethan let out a soft laugh too, however he had to agree with Chiara – the woman was cold all the time. He couldn’t imagine her hitchhiking through Iceland – a trip that evolved from what Chiara called ‘her mom’s middle age crisis’ idea’.

“And again, with the time off I took after the senator’s attack and Edenbrook’s closing, I wouldn’t be able to leave for three weeks.”

“You know I would sign off your vacation, three weeks or not,” Ethan mumbled into her neck.

Chiara smacked his arm lightly, an amused grin on her lips.

“And that, Dr. Ramsey, is not at all professional.”

Ethan wanted to argue that he could think of many not at all professional activities that happened in this very office, but sometimes not reminding himself of his terrible failure at staying colleagues was for the best.

Not that this relationship was by any means a failure. Letting himself fail his principles for once in his life turned out to be the best decision he has ever made.

“I knew you would be working,” Chiara added much more seriously and she was, of course, right. There were reasons Ethan was dedicated to work every Christmas Eve, reasons he never talked about but were enough for him to not to break the habit.

“And you would rather spend your Christmas at work with me, than in Europe with your family?”

“Yes,” Chiara stated simply, not a single hint of doubt in her voice. None.

Who knows how much longer we are going to work in this hospital together, she thought but didn’t say it aloud, not wanting to ruin the bright mood.

Checking his watch, Ethan gestured at Chiara to stand up and followed her in her tracks, trying his best to tame the mess his hair has become.

“I am going to pick up the food. Are you going to join me?”

“Nope, I still need to check on some patients. I will accompany you to the nurses’ station.”

They left the office together and Ethan still couldn’t quite comprehend this new reality for them, the life where they walked the corridor freely next to each other, Ethan’s hand put on Chiara’s lower back gently, and he didn’t need to worry about anyone seeing them.

“Dr. Ray, Dr. Ramsey,” Marlene smiled at them from the desk and noticing Ethan’s relaxed shoulders, she dared to go on. “Didn’t you want to spend your Christmas outside of the work?”

Chiara shrugged and smiled widely, not giving Ethan a chance to ruin Marlene’s mood by his sour response – it didn’t matter how relaxed he was, he couldn’t stand people asking him personal questions.

“We like to work. Someone has to do it even today, right?” she smiled at the nurse.

“Maybe you could engage at least in some form of Christmas cheer, hm?” Marlene gestured at the green adornment above their heads and Chiara couldn’t contain her smirk when she noticed what it was.

Mistletoe.

“Absolutely not,” Ethan stated, his arms crossed at his chest. “We are at work. I will not fuel rumors by indulging in such public display of physical affection.”

Chiara raised an eyebrow at him and Ethan was not sure if she was trying to remind him that the office’s walls were still made out of glass and therefore their earlier escapades could be very well considered a public display of physical affection, had anyone come by, or-

“Ah,” Marlene laughed loudly. “You didn’t mind to fuel those rumors at the gala not even three weeks ago, Dr. Ramsey.”

Ethan’s cheeks flushed brightly but it was clear at the moment that those two women would not let him leave that easily.

Sighing reluctantly, he planted a quick – yet gentle – kiss at Chiara’s cheek and muttering ‘food’ left the corridor.

“What are you doing to the poor man, Dr. Ray,” Marlene whispered as she watched his retreating form, winking at the young redhead she came to like very much.

 Third Year

It seemed like it would become their very own tradition, to share their Christmas dinner behind the walls of Ethan’s office.

Chiara was extremely tempted to join her mother and Alicia this year – after all, it is at least warm on Mauritius and Chiara deperately wished to feel warm for a while. But with Leland not that approving of her relationship with Ethan – with her boss, as he reminded them – she wouldn’t dare to ask him for two weeks of vacation.

And maybe she was secretly thankful that he made that decision for her – she missed her family, but she couldn’t imagine sending Ethan beach pictures while he would be working. And she knew he would be working.

It took her by surprise, by the most beautiful surprise, when Ethan asked her if she wouldn’t want to spend New Year’s Eve in San Francisco – there was no doubt they would get three or four days off for that – and that he would accompany her, if she would like that.

Only then she found out he exchanged messages with her mother rather regularly and they came up with the idea together, actually.

And so there she was – walking down the long corridor of renewed Bloom Edenbrook’s hospital, a patient chart in one of her hands and a Christmas card she got from one of the patient in the other. Chiara only needed to drop the charts off at the nurses’s station and she was free to enjoy her take-out with Ethan for as long as their pagers would remain silent.

After checking everything twice and making sure she wasn’t needed anywhere, she stepped into the office, smiling at the sight of a single candle glowing in the middle of Ethan’s desk – maybe the idea of this truly being a Christmas dinner was finally getting on him.

„Before we start,“ Chiara spoke first, taking a seat next to Ethan on a couch. „I saw you leaving a paediatrics wing today and I know you have no patient there. Is that your tradition?“

She normally wouldn’t really care about Ethan being somwhere weird, but this was their third Christmas together and there were many, many attempts on Chiara’s side to get the information out of Ethan through the years, only for him to resist.

And it was beginning to be ridiculous.

„Yes,“ Ethan rolled his eyes but he didn’t really seem anyhow bothered. He hugged Chiara’s waist and put a lingering kiss on her temple, her smell intoxicating him even after years of knowing it. Knowing Chiara.

„So what exactly is it what you do there?“

„I read books to the kids that have to stay here and are alone. I am not dressed as Santa,“ he added quickly, noticing Chiara’s curious eyes. „I just come there, bring some books with me, read them for as long as I can. It’s not much, but...“

Chiara turned to him fully now and whispered: „It is more than much,“ before kissing him softly, pouring all the love she felt into the simple act of their lips meeting eagerly.

And she still wondered, how was it that it was her, that she was the privileged one to see this side of Ethan Ramsey, the side that reads book to sick kids and hugs overwhelmed mothers and buys a candle because he knows his girlfriend loves candles on the Christmas table.

„Didn’t you want to spend this Christmas with Alan?“ Chiara asked between the kisses, genuinely curious – the relationship between two Ramsey men was finally good, after all.

„He knows I will come tomorrow. I wanted to work today.“

„You... wanted to work?“ Chiara leaned back and shot him a confused stare.

She knew that it was Ethan’s habit to work on Christmas Eve, but it never occured to her that it was something he truly wanted.

Ethan leaned into the back of the couch, exhaling slowly before responding.

„I never had anyone waiting for me at home on Christmas. And I made sure, every year, that I would be working on Christmas Eve, because me working meant someone else being able to go home. When I work, it might guarantee another doctor to spend his evening with his family, his kids.“

There was a mix of emotions in Ethan’s eyes, even if his voice was steady – a gentlesness mixed with pain and perhaps even anger.

„I believe that parents should be home for Christmas. I am aware of our job being demanding, but no child should feel left behind because their parents have important job. If there is only one of the fellow doctors that is able to play board games with his kids now because I am here – we are here – working, then yes, I want to work.“

He propped his head on the back and closed his eyes for a while and it stunned Chiara how peaceful he looked, how content. She squeezed his hand, however before she could say anything, Ethan spoke again.

„Until that is something we have, I am more than happy to spend my Christmas Eve’s here with a take-out and you.“

It seemed like he didn’t even realize what he just said, his position, his expression not changed.

But Chiara noticed.

Until that is something we have.

They never really talked about family. Future. They loved each other, there were no doubts about that, and they enjoyed planning the upcoming months of their lives. Chiara knew she wanted to spend her life with Ethan. And deep down she knew that he felt the same – that they didn’t go through that much for him to just let her go.

But the statement left her speechless nonetheless.

It wasn’t even that much about him saying that there might be an option for a family in his future – Ethan changed a lot after all.

It was the way he said, with such easiness, such certainity, without a single doubt, until that is somethig we have.

We. Us.

It was his third Christmas with Chiara and Ethan knew that if it hadn’t been for her, he would still wish to erase Christmas from the existence of an universe.

#open heart #open heart choices #open heart fanfiction #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #christmas fic #chiara ray

[zeldas-cigarrette]

Illicit affairs. (1)

(not my gif:))

⎯ zelda spellman x reader

⎯ word count: 2,1k

⎯ warnings: slight mention of alcohol

⎯ summary: after a night out you wake up next to Zelda Spellman, later you find out you two met in a bar the night before.

⎯ ❥ author’s note: I don’t know how I got this idea but I thought it’d be fun to just write it down and see what happens, I’ll maybe do another two parts because I want to finish it with a happy ending:) ✨

⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯ ⎯

A loud and penetrating noise tore you out of your sweet sleep, as soon as your eyes flung open you felt a sting in your head. The memories of last night were blurry and you had no idea how you ended up in your bed. Only the regularly set alarm on your phone stopped you from sleeping any longer. Usually, you weren’t someone who drinks but something about yesterday made you forget about it. You didn’t dare to move, everybody part seemed to hurt with the slightest of movements. It was just your white bedroom ceiling, that you saw. The sun had begun to rise and the morning sky was dipped in shades of pink. Without further thinking you started to get up, not wanting to be late for your job as a teacher in the academy of unseen arts. You were afraid of Zelda, the headmistress, the woman never seemed to like you. You never knew why.

Your head turned to the other side of the room to see if you had broken anything in your state last night. Unknowingly of what to expect next to you, your heart missed a beat for a second. On top of your fluffy white pillow Zelda Spellman was laying. Not even able to think clearly, you tried to put the pieces of last night in the place. In between some very clear scenes more and more occurred only black pictures. You had no clue how in hell the often resilient witch ended up next to you in bed. Curiously, you bent over her face to see if she was somewhat conscious. You waved your hand over her face, one time, two times; nothing.

Soft snores left her slightly opened mouth. This was bad; ‘when she wakes up you’re dead’ you thought. It took you a lot of courage to make the first step and poke her with your finger, not sure of what was about to happen. Her eyes quickly opened, her eyes met yours. A maybe unwanted cry escaped her mouth causing you to join out of surprise of the sudden noise. „Satan, why did you have to scream?” you asked massaging your ear in pain. „What am I doing here?” her voice still a bit raspy. You tried to play it cool, trying to hide the blush on your cheeks you turned away searching for any evidence of last nights events. Still nothing. „Did we…” „I don’t think so.”

It was awkward, none of you knew anything. Just now you realised how chill it was in your apartment. „Okay, don’t worry. We’ll figure this out, just get dressed, I’ll make coffee if you want some,” you declared hopping out of the bed and covering your body with a gown. You shot her a last glance before exiting your bedroom, though a bit shaky. How much alcohol did you consume to be in that state now? Passing the few paintings on your walls on the way to the kitchen, you switched on your coffee machine, hoping it wouldn’t be too awkward. Soon the smell of fresh coffee filled the air and also Zelda seemingly disappointed walked around the corner.

„What in Satan’s name happened last night?” the woman asked puzzled. You handed her a cup of coffee, noticing a silver ring tugging on her left hand. „Nice ring,” you smiled. „What ring? I don’t wear rings!” „Obviously you do now,” you replied pointing at it. The witch’ forehead laid in wrinkles before she shook her head as if she couldn’t believe her own eyes. „Why you? Why am I in your house?” she suddenly snapped and harshly placed the cup on the table. „Calm down, I don’t know and I could’ve also imagined someone nicer than you.” Wrong you couldn’t, you craved her attention. Since the very first moment you laid eyes on the red-headed witch, you found it hard to avert your gaze. Only an eye roll signalised how annoyed she was. „Okay, I came into that bar and ordered something… I don’t remember what,” you whispered to yourself. You heard the older woman scoff in. „What? Do you know what happened?” your voice grew energetic way too fast. Silence. It was this gruelling silence where you feel so little you don’t even dare to break the ongoing nothingness. You glanced down at your fingers, finding a silver ring, looking similar to the one that Zelda was wearing. „Why do I have the same ring as you?” in your voice grew to panic. Her head jolted in your hand’s direction. The pupils of her green eyes grew wide in split seconds. „You don’t think we-“ „I don’t know? I’m not even sure how I ended up at home,” you stammered unsure of what words to choose next. Obviously, the situation was uncomfortable for both parties, Zelda couldn’t stop herself from pinching the bridge of her nose in disbelief of her memory loss.

That woman always seemed like the most put-together person you knew, there were hardly any encounters or incidents that let people see kind of emotion. „You go to the academy and do whatever you have to, and I will look for any evidence or signs that could verify our theory,” it was hard to stay calm. You weren’t ready for such thing as marriage and Zelda clearly seemed to dislike you and if you both really did it last night; you couldn’t even imagine what to do then. It didn’t take long until the witch disappeared from your kitchen. You let yourself fall on one of the chairs, head in your hands, covering your eyes with fingers in the hope to bring back the memories.

The constant sips of coffee that ran down your throat didn’t wipe out the dizzy feeling in you nor did they wake you as they used to. Watching the sun as it rose just made you sleepier. It didn’t get in your head how you had absolutely no proper memories from your night out. Yes, it’s been stressful and you just wanted to take a break from your negative thoughts and all the stuff that’s been weighing you down, but it was never your intention to get so drunk or to upset the mighty Zelda Spellman herself. You gulped audibly before you forced yourself up from the chair. It was time to dig a little deeper and to scour your apartment, next to the bar you went to.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

It was useless, there was no paper or anything that could tell you what happened the night before. The whole morning and parts of the afternoon, you spent searching. Under your bed, you also rummaged through the kitchen drawers. Nothing.

A knock on your door nearly startled you to death, so deeply concentrated were you on finding anything in the living room. You pushed yourself up from the ground, walking up to your front door. A look through the spy drowned your mood completely. You knew the woman would show up at least in the evening, but you did not think it’d be right after work.

„Anything found yet?” „Well, Hello to you too, and no- nothing,” you sighed and let her enter your small apartment. „The last option is, to head to the bar and ask some people who’ve been there with us yesterday,” you shrugged and stared at the silvery ring you placed on the kitchen counter earlier. „The whole day I’ve been asking myself what has happened, and I cannot puzzle the pieces together, and as much as I hate to admit; you’re right,” Zelda’s sudden thought sharing startled you. „Alright, then let’s go.” You stepped on the gas as much as possible, still, it felt like a ride on a snails back. The whole situation was too crazy and odd to be true, but it was.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

Arriving at the bar, a neon sign greeted you. You remembered entering the place and a weird smell embracing you, smelt like cigarettes mixed with Urin. The thought of spending time in there suddenly disgusted you. A huge glass door, meant as entrance, was pushed open by the fiery witch, stomping in the alcohol hole. She immediately rushed towards a young man behind the bar, who was mixing cocktails. „Tell me, what happened here,” while yelling her voice wandered between three different ranges. „What she meant was, Hello we need your help could you tell us what happened last night,” you intervened shooting her a warning glare. His shocked face softened, „You were the girls who got married last night,” a deep laugh followed. Zelda was just about to throw hands before you were able to pull her back to where she stood. „Oh so we did… get married,” you remarked confused, „Can you possibly tell us more?” „Yes sure, you two got drunk and started talking to each other.” „You don’t get married by just talking… Justin,” you read his tag. „Of course not, as the night went on the sparks flew,” Justin cackled. Idiot. „Mhh, the sparks flew, then?” it wasn’t easy to get the worst of you but this guy was on the best way. „Sorry, Sorry,” he defensively held up his hands, „There was a priest in the corner and when you two found out about him, you rather fast decided to get married,” the idiotic bartender explained. Zelda’s fox fur shook with her in anger. All your face muscles dropped, not knowing what’ll happen next. „Was it a catholic?” Zelda asked concerned. Oh god, if it was a Catholic priest, you two were fucked, dead, excommunicated, just all the bad stuff. „I suppose so,” he shrugged. Her face shot in your direction, the looks you two shared said more than words could. What made a catholic priest come to this filthy – you can’t call it a bar- hole. „We’re going,” she rapidly grabbed your wrist pulling you after her.

„Ouch, god what is it with you,” you freed your wrist from her grasp. „Do you know what happens if anybody finds out we got married, worse by a catholic priest from the false god?” she huffed crossing her arms in front of her chest. „It’s bad, but we can’t undo it,” you took a step back. „It is all your fault that this misery came upon us and you have nothing better to say than , we can’t undo it’,” she imitated you. You scoffed. „My fault?” ‘Never be so polite to forget to show power’ your grandma once said. The whole day you tried to be polite, to be understanding and to comfort the one who hated you from the very beginning you showed up at the academy. Now she was accusing you of planting the idea of getting married in her brain, to that agreement belongs two people. „Listen, I tried to be nice but right now you’re giving me a very hard time,” you hissed, „It needs two people to get married and obviously you agreed to it, so now Zelda Spellman I want to think about your next words or you can stay here and I’ll leave you alone with this drunk heads in there.”

Seconds passed before she spoke up again, „Alright I’m sorry.” „Good, let’s get in there and ask if there was maybe a certificate or anything that proves our marriage. I get that you do not want to be married to me, neither would I but we have to figure this out together.” The older woman nodded, realising that there was no other way out. Entering the bar for a second time you approached Justin again. „Do you -by chance- know where the certificate is?

„Yes you left it at the table and I kept it behind the bar,” he explained. „Okay, can I have it?” „And what do I get for that?” „What do you get for that? I’ll show you what you get,” Zelda hissed ready to lose it all. „Stop it.” You warned her and held her back. „What do you want smiley face?” the tone on your voice grew harsh. „A night… with you,” It left you speechless. A look at the woman next to you made it clear she wasn’t fond of it either. „Forget it,” you snapped trying not to put a hex on him. This was it, there was no way to sneak behind that stupid bar.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

„Don’t you dare to suggest I should sleep with that idiot,” you mumbled and closed the car door a bit too loud. „I wasn’t.” It relived you to know she wouldn’t go that far. „Okay, Okay, Okay,” you started to panic, „I’m freaking out, we are so fucked if anyone ever finds that out.”

You started the engine of the car, sighing. „Calm down, we’ll figure something out,” the usually emotional cold woman reassured you. You just nodded hiding a tiny smile. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad after all.

#chilling adventures of sabrina #caos #fanfiction #greendale #hilda spellman #zelda spellman #sapphic #zelda spellman x reader #fanfic #caos imagine #madam satan #sabrina spellman #ambrose spellman #wlw #wlw love #loveislove #miranda otto #lucy davis #x reader imagines #gay #marriage #nightout #michelle gomez #drunk #the gays #slow burn

[aliveanddrunkonsunlight]

food

Jaime x Brienne + alternate love languages

For @naomignome

Author’s Note: The previous ficlets, I was writing from their POV for each love language and how they receive that from the other person. Example: how Brienne hears/receives words of affirmation from Jaime. This is flipped, where I’m writing it from the POV of the person who is communicating the love (if that makes sense.)

*

They are both, somehow, alive. The sun peeks over the distant horizon. Carnage and ashes surround them, the stench of battle filling their noses. 

Her chambers. Armor coming off with shaky hands, dirt and sweat stained bodies sagging as they fall into merciful sleep. 

Jaime wakes, not in cold darkness as he expects, but with the quiet rustle of flames in the hearth. The floor is no longer littered with armor. It sits across the table and chairs, his and hers, polished so carefully, the firelight dancing in its sheen. 

Before his feet hit the floor, he knows where he will find her. She is in the moonlit yard, helping the other men build the pyres. He coaxes her back to bed, somehow, but the next morning, he wakes to find her side of the bed already empty. 

The circles under her eyes darken and grow deeper. The crease in her brow remains constant. It is on the third day when he touches her hand in passing, feels the cold clamminess of it, and worries she is turning into one of the creatures they fought. “Bed. Now.” he orders.

She objects, even as he steers her towards their room. She has to help rebuild. It is not your home, my lady. Unless you plan to stay. She has to protect Sansa. You are not Lady Sansa’s sworn sword. She has her guard. What will Pod think? The boy would not wish to see you ill.  

He brings her broth and the freshest bread (for the latter, he might have bribed the kitchen maid to set it aside for him, but Brienne does not need to know) and she swirls the spoon like a petulant child until he threatens to feed her himself. “You’ll end up with broth slung all over the bed sheets,” he teases her, gesturing with his stump. 

In the evening, Pod arrives with more hearty fare and another man carrying a pile of furs. “Before you object that we are stealing these from some unsuspecting soul who needs them when we have plenty,” he tells her after they leave. “Lady Sansa said she was happy to loan them.” He spends far too long arranging the furs and pillows on the hard stone floor in front of the fireplace before he approaches the bed and takes her hand. From the look on her face, she is too shocked to speak.

He arranges the furs carefully around her, Brienne leaning back against him, and he reclines against the legs of a chair. The somewhat uncomfortable seat is worth it for the little sigh she exhales when he wraps his arms around her and rests his chin on her shoulder, the two of them watching the fire. 

She dozes against him and his heart quickens, listening to her steady breath, noticing the way her fingers curl against his thigh. I love you. 

He has said it so rarely since they confessed their feelings to each other, afraid saying it too often would lessen its meaning.  

The next morning, when they wake together, he asks her about Tarth. “Do you mean to return?” 

A shadow passes over her face and her eyes shift away from his. “I should go and see my father.” It sounds like duty more than longing, and he is not sure what to make of that, so instead he kisses her and tells he loves her. It earns him a soft smile, and it is all so easy.

*

On the boat to Tarth, she is excited to show him her home. Her face is open and bright as she tucks her long body against his on the deck. They watch the island grow closer, Brienne pointing out things, her voice soft in his ear, making him shiver. 

When they step off the ship, there is a cavalcade of men awaiting them. Brienne embraces one of them before stepping back and taking his arm, introducing Jaime to her cousin Endrew. “Where is my father?” There is the shadow passing over her face again and an inkling of understanding begins to form. 

“He is waiting to greet you at Evenfall,” her cousin replies.  

Except he is not waiting, he is still meeting with whatever Tarth farmer needs counsel rather than his own daughter, returned from war. 

Finally, a man with broad shoulders and a portly belly appears in the doorway. He has the same broad face as Brienne, only his is half covered by a neatly trimmed white beard. He smiles and opens his arms for a hug, his gray eyes shimmering in the bright white marble of the entrance hall. 

Jaime does not expect her father to be thrilled that she has brought the Kingslayer himself home, but there is skepticism and disappointment on Selwyn’s face which he cannot hide. Brienne asks if he wants to accompany them on a walk before the evening meal, but he brushes her aside, saying he has meetings and duties and and. 

Brienne is oddly quiet as she shows him Evenfall. They take their walk through the grounds, just the two of them, but Jaime notices how she walks a few steps ahead of him, lost in her own thoughts. 

Selwyn is polite, but not warm. At dinner, he asks about their journey, fills Brienne in on trivial matters around the island, but after the small talk is dispensed with, he has little else to say. No questions about Brienne’s experiences on the mainland, none about the man she brought with her. 

There is an absence. An absence in him, an absence which echoes in the halls of this castle. Echoes of her brother, her mother, her siblings. How much grief Brienne has known, true grief, not the false feelings he felt at the news that his eldest son was dead, the mask he wore at his father’s vigil. The dutiful son, the dutiful soldier. 

No, Brienne still carried the memories of her loved ones within, a part of her so deep and recessed, even he did not have access. The longer they sit at her father’s table, the more Jaime realizes she never wished him to see it. Brienne did not want him to see how her father’s ignorance, his neglect, cast such a long shadow over his remaining child. But Jaime does see. The steel core of her begins to melt away. He watches those strong shoulders slump under the weight of childhood hurt. All those half-healed scars.

Brienne has never needed him to protect her. Not when they got taken by the Bloody Mummers, not even at the bear pit, not any moment since, but he wants to stretch his good arm down the length of the table, take up the Evenstar by his collar and shake him. Make him listen, tell him all the ways he should be on his knees thanking his daughter.

Jaime’s hand shakes, thinking of all the words he might use to explain what Brienne has done for him, much less half the kingdom. 

She told me to live. 

She allows him to simply be the man he always wished to be, because she knows he is capable. She does not discredit him for his faults, just as he does not discredit her for hers. It sounds emotionally distant to say they love one another justly, but it’s true. It is equanimity. Any space they are together is one where he can breathe, after decades of what felt like drowning.

He loves her more than he thinks he will ever be able to express, but he does not let it stop him from trying. Words and deeds and touch and the very air in his lungs.

I am so, so sorry, my darling, he tells her that night. She likely does not know what he means, it could easily be an apology for his reputation, the deed which cast the die for his life for so long. He means it as an apology, one which she will never get from her father.  

The next morning, Brienne has gone down to breakfast before he wakes. Standing outside the great hall, he hears their voices echoing inside. “Will you live at the Rock then?” 

“I--I always planned to serve in your stead, but I know that is not what you wished of me.” 

“Nonsense, I only wished you to be happy.” 

“I am.” After a moment, so quietly he has to lean towards the door to hear. “We chose each other.” 

Upon hearing that, Jaime walks outside, needing fresh air. She finds him in the gardens, hand clutched around the seat of a stone bench. He tugs her down into his lap. “I am very proud of you.” 

“Proud of me?” Her forehead wrinkles into that familiar frown. “Why?” 

“Do I need a reason?” he asks in the moment before his mouth covers hers.

*

Their wedding party is tiny and Brienne refuses to have the ceremony in the sept, so they wed on the cliffs overlooking the sea. It is near sunset and light spills across the water in an orangey glow, shimmering in the gold trimmings on her wedding cloak. 

At the small feast afterwards, her father reminds him that Brienne once swore she would only ever wed if the man could beat her in the yard. “She has already done that, my lord, I assure you,” Jaime replies in a voice which makes her whole body flush.

“That is when you were in shackles,” Brienne says, once they are alone in her chambers. 

He laughs. “Well, it is too late now, my love. We are wed.” 

Her blue eyes glitter at him from the other side of the room. “You mean you will not spar with me on our wedding night? I never knew you to be so dull.” 

Jaime chases her around the bed, making her shriek with laughter, and when he catches her, they wrestle against each other on the mattress, both of them grinning like fools. “I happen to know you are quite good at the other type of sparring.”

“Jaime,” she chides him, but a soft laugh falls from her lips as she bends down to kiss him. 

It is well past midnight when she drags him out to the yard. “You cannot let me win,” she warns him at one point as their tourney swords clash. 

He chuckles between his gritted teeth until Brienne breaks the hold they are in. “You forget I am much older than you.”

“No excuses, old man,” she winks at him. 

Jaime knows it is worthless to protest about his left hand. They both fought the dead. Only he likes when Brienne--his wife--can easily best him and it is difficult to summon up his usual competitiveness when she executes a particularly thrilling move. 

He ends up in a rather vulnerable position, on his knees in the dirt, her sword pointed at his throat, only to revel in the slow realization dawning in her eyes. She’s won. That is until he bats her wooden tourney sword away with his left hand and tackles her to the ground. “You cheated.” she accuses, once they both get their breath back. 

He smirks at her, slipping his hand underneath her tunic, delicate fingertips against her skin. “We’ll call it even.”

*

When her father passes, Brienne throws herself into all the things which need to be done. He is the one who coaxes her back to bed. She has to allow herself to rest. She has to allow herself to mourn. She’ll do no one any good running herself ragged. 

This time, he does not have to bribe the kitchen maids. They make Brienne’s favorite dishes and willingly wake in the middle of the night to show Jaime how to warm milk for her, served with a dash of honey, to help her go back to sleep. 

“We were very much alike,” she says to him a few days later, when they are walking in the gardens. “Headstrong. That is why we fought so often.” Jaime is tempted to tell her all the ways they were different, but it would not help anything. Right now, the most important thing he can provide is solace, not unwanted advice. “He tried so hard to understand me. He only wanted something to go right. To see me happily wed, except that was something he wanted. It was not what I wanted. So then,” she takes a shaky breath. “He finally let me go, even though I know he was mocked, chastised that he could not control his own daughter.”

“You represented him honorably. No one could accuse you otherwise.” He presses a gentle kiss to her temple. “And if they try, you can face them in the yard.” 

She has not laughed since her father died, but she smiles then and squeezes his hand. “Thank you.” 

*

Their fifth year of marriage, he arranges for their friends to travel to Tarth. It is an unrealistic request for most, he realizes, but everyone comes. Lady Sansa, his brother, Pod and Peck and Gendry, all of the people who know Brienne’s selflessness and his luck. There is cake and fruit and all manner of sweet things Brienne says she does not like, but which he knows she secretly enjoys. Meat pies and cheese and warm, fresh-baked bread. There is laughter and stories spun over a long meal and good wine. In some ways, it is a happier day than their wedding. 

She laces her fingers through his and they lean against each other, listening to the others late into the night. 

*

For her name day, he and the children bake a cake. Alex’s whole outfit is covered with flour and Alys’ hair is dusted with it. They insist on him writing the script in icing, even with his shaky left hand. When they present it to her that evening, she laughs in delight and kisses all of them, tears shimmering in her eyes. She presses an extra kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, darling.” 

#jaime x brienne #love languages #fic: food

[princekoo]

goodnight n go | one | pjm.

pairing. single dad! jimin x female teacher! reader

synopsis. jimin was a single dad of three and one unfortunate mishap caused him to meet you: his best friend’s coworker and daughter’s teacher. will feelings of petty loathing develop into something more?

genre/prompt. fluff, angst

word count. 4.3k

content. jimin is a pole dancer and has 3 kids as well as is 9 years older than oc. even if they’re both well over legal age, if that makes you uncomfortable, please consider not reading. thank you <3

writer’s note. I deleted it originally because I was unhappy with it as I wrote it when I was younger and didn’t have much experience in writing and my approach to it wasn’t as elaborate as the one I managed to develop all these months of practicing. so! here she is! she’s longer and has less parts so you won’t be annoyed with the constant changing haha. an important thing to note is that the oldest son’s name Songyoon was changed to Haneul, the little girl’s name Sooyeon was changed to Eunbyul, and the youngest’s name Sanghoon was changed to Hayun as their names were too similar and made it difficult to remember who was who. There was also many major plot changes as well as small ones, so it’s somewhat completely different to the earlier version. Anyways! Enjoy :)

parts. one / two

    The window curtains glittered under the moonlight’s loving, motherly kiss, this gentle caress closely similar to the unnaturally blond man’s embrace of a little girl–his precious little girl– in his arms. She was quite positively almost a copy of himself, down to his natural jet-black hair and plump, pink lips. The expensive curtains—most notably one of the most expensive things in the vicinity as what his little one wants his little one gets— danced with the wind let in by the open window softly, bringing the loud car horns and yelling of bustling city life with it. They’d been rendered to a simple ambient hum, considering how high up in the building they lived, however. The glitter scattered all throughout its length caused it to look like various constellations spread gracefully, causing his little one to refuse any other option that wasn’t it, unfortunately for his bank account. The neon lights of signs outside their New York City apartment, which would otherwise be annoying, entered only carefully tonight, as if to not disturb the gentle moment between the father and daughter.

“And so, the little princess was elated! The dragon had taken her to his cave filled with shiny little things all around, away from the princess life she hated.”

The raven-haired girl’s little eyes had shined in anticipation; the blonde man often mused it seemed like the night sky was trapped in her gaze since her birth, hence her name. She practically shook from excitement, her little brain unable wrap itself around how the princess pulled it all off so effortlessly! She didn’t know what to do with herself, so she clung to her dad’s silk night shirt as tight as her little fists would let her (which kind of hurt but he wasn’t going to stop her, he loved her too much to repress her). She liked to think of herself as close to that of a big, scary typhoon. He begged to differ with the more accurate description of the whirlpool one makes when circling their fingers in water repeatedly.

“The dragon taught her all she came to know! He taught her to read and write. Taught her to do basic things and they lived happily for just a few months. Then, the guards in the palace found her and came to get her! Do you know what they assumed, my beautiful little star?” Jimin had started looking at her fondly, the term of endearment coming out in their native tongue of Korean, accent prominently and endearingly laced in his English, soothing into every word he spoke. The nickname made her chest fill with warmth and her cheeks puff in reluctant happiness. No matter how many times her dear daddy would say it, it was her very own little term of endearment. Just for her and no one else. She loved it.

“That he was a big scary mean dragon! Right, daddy?!”

Jimin beamed at her intelligence. Then again, he does read her this story whenever she asks—and that’s nearly every weekend. He tickled her and held her tightly in his arms, her soft giggles reaching his ears just as the melodies he would dance to as a young boy would. Although he could still fit her in his arms, she was getting big. Give it two more years and he couldn’t do this anymore with her, hold her without difficulty and discomfort. The thought of such a cruel future made his heart sink a little. He had to stop himself often from thinking about how she would act when she became a teenager, it would be too much for his fragile heart to handle.

Jimin had always chastised her, as he was the only parent she had left. He took care of her and taught her valuable life lessons, sang her to sleep, and learned to make pretty hairstyles “just like a princess”, she’d say. He corrected her when needed as well as took on the role of both mother and father to her younger brother, Hayun (she preferred to call him Sunny after Jimin told her the meaning in English, which always made his heart melt), which was only a month old when their mother decided to pack her bags. Her older brother, although still a junior in high school, helped as much as he could to alleviate the toll that taking on both roles took on Jimin.

He was a great father, as one wouldn’t really expect. He was the right mixture of incredibly compassionate, well-humored, and empathetic with a dash of sternness to go along with it. He wasn’t a tyrant ruler, he listened to all three–well two, Hayun hasn’t even been able to string together a coherent longer-than-3-words sentence, only simple sentences, as a toddler does– and implemented all change that was agreed on by the majority. He always tried to pay equal attention to all of them, although most of it went to her younger brother. She didn’t mind though, she enjoyed playing with her older brother, Haneul. Jimin always packed him lunch, even as he whined that he didn’t have to do that, but he always enjoyed when he did it. She knew, noticing he always left to school with a small smile on his lips after.

Jimin has to assume complete responsibility once their… “mother” … turned up one day and decided she wanted nothing to do with her kids anymore. After taking her routine every night visit to the bar, she found someone older. Wealthier. “Much more fun” and “like you used to be before they showed up” she also gracefully added. Not like it was his fault he’d grown up once his first child was born, unlike her. Always looking for convenient fun, never tied down to anything. Proposing to her would just be in vain since it’s not like she would’ve accepted marriage anyway. Even during high school, when she first had come to him announcing her pregnancy, he knew how little care she held for him. She always thought of him as harmless fun, a man on the side and he couldn’t say the same of himself.  The first child was purely an accident, the other two was him desperately trying to convince himself it could all work out and she could change. After their third, he knew how wrong he was. He held feelings for her at one point, although, with time, it all disappeared. He could only hold feelings of loathing towards her at that point. She thought of the kids as nuances. She got sick of it. Sick of him. Sick of having just one person to kiss. She couldn’t be tied down, but just because he knew that, it didn’t mean it hurt any less. She’d left once Hayun was born, but Eunbyul didn’t know why. She always thought she didn’t love them anymore after seeing her mom with a man that looked uglier than her daddy for sure, but she seemed happy. Her mom said something to her before she’d left, looked at her weird, and screamed at her dad some more, but she couldn’t remember what it was. Often, she’d ponder when her mommy was coming back. Well, not like she could, anyway. They did move across the globe after, from Busan to New York, with no way to contact them. She didn’t mind not having a mommy for now, though, it’s not like she was ever home before anyway. It was always comfortable with daddy.

“Daddy! Please continue the story! Why’d you stop?! Pleeeeeeease…!” She pouted and looked up at him with those puppy eyes children knew to use when they wanted something to make their parents cave in fast in response to his hesitance to continue the story, her fake tiara skewing just a little to the side. One day, he’ll buy her a new one. One with diamonds and various other gems. His features seemed to light up and playfully mirror her own, his nose scrunching up as well. She, of course, as a sensitive, princess-y 4-almost-5-year-old, did not know how to differentiate someone being mean between someone playing, so she smacked him on the shoulder as hard as she could in her blind anger. Jimin yelped at the contact and sobered up, expression turning stern. Had she messed up? Did she do something wrong? Daddy’s face did the same face he always did when he was mad at her for doing something wrong. Eyes sharp. Lips in a straight line. Eyebrows drawn together.

“Eunbyul, you can’t hit anyone ever, you hear me? Especially me...” His voice was stern, but less confident as he trailed off. One look in her eyes and one could easily tell she was on the verge of tears. Why had the atmosphere changed so much? Why did the breeze still? Why was it so hot all of a sudden, but just on her face? Her tears were almost spilling out of her doe eyes, so his expression softened and panic flashed through his face. He had too soft a spot for her.

“...Not without expecting payback!” He announced out as a save and initiated a tickle attack by removing his arms supporting her back and wiggling them on her sides, causing a sea of reluctant giggles and laughter to erupt from her lips, tears of sadness now turned into ones of happiness. A wave of relief passed through her consciousness. He wasn’t mad at her anymore!

After he stopped tickling and her giggles piped down, he took her in his arms again and minimally rocked her back and forth again, attempting to continue the story. She gazed into his eyes. There, were two crescent moons filled with stars picked carefully right from the universe. They held warm nights of him wrapped in a blanket and always holding her in his arms while rocking her back and forth, looking back at her like she was his most valuable treasure. Nights of drinking lukewarm chocolate and sharing it with her while telling her countless stories he remembered or made up, her brother’s occasional snorting making her giggle. Those crescent pools of love staring right back at her with so much fondness, she couldn’t not trust him. He loved what he created with every inch of his being, even if she resembled her mother somewhat. She never felt so safe in any other person’s hold, even in Haneul’s. She felt safe and happy, sure, but not to the extent of her dad’s.

Pouting and closing his eyes as well as lifting his head up high in mocked snub, he opened one of his closed eyes.

“Well, if you’re done being rude, I’d like to finish this story for this week.”

A beat of silence went by as she looked at him with slight shame and tucked her head against his armpit. He sighed, breathily chuckled and shook his head slightly.

“You were right, princess. They did think he was a big, mean, and scary dragon that took the pretty little princess as his own treasure! The princess came back from getting berries just before the guards decided to kill the dragon!”

A gasp. A smile.

“She explained what happened and the guards decided to keep to themselves that they had seen the princess. The dragon and the princess lived what, my little star?”

“Happily ever after, right, daddy?!” She looked at her dad excitedly, completely engrossed in the story despite it being probably the hundredth time he told it to her since her birth.

A pause.

“That’s right, my love. The end…”

Although little Eunbyul understood simple Korean, she could barely speak it. Jimin planned on teaching her a little more down the line. Now, she barely understood some of the words, any longer than two syllables being too dang hard for her little brain to grasp at this late hour, right before her bedtime, but she didn’t care at this time. Not when his soothing voice graced her ears with the background noise only that of the far away beep of cars, the rhythmic rumbling in his chest every time he’s uttered a word soothing her to sleep. As she laid there in his arms, fast asleep, little snores leaving her nose, all that was in his mind was how he could never bear losing her.

He felt absolutely heartbroken and stressed, raising three kids on his own was unbearably hard. He loved them so much he had to look for a job in this new country. A job that paid well but let him work while the kids were asleep so he could care for them while they were awake.

He also made friends with his co-workers and shift manager, so it wasn’t too bad re-adjusting. They barely hired new employees since they had a very high criteria, so he barely had to deal with new hires that made his job harder. His kids are growing up, though. He knew that.  He feared they would leave like their mother did almost two years ago, so he’d decided to enjoy them and raise them as well as he could while it lasted. He was scared they’d decide they were sick of him just like she did. Irrational since his kids shared a strong bond with him and each other, but valid.

Jimin got up, arms still wrapped around her, she was growing and he could no longer able to hold her like how he used to. He moved the covers to make place for her and gently laid her down, taking her plastic tiara off her head. Covering her and laying a gentle kiss on her forehead, tears dangerously threatened to spill. The moonlight hit his face, making his eyes’ shine intensify into thousand galaxies in his beautiful, soft chocolate eyes as he got up to turn off her mermaid lamp.

“Sleep tight my little universe,” he chokingly whispered as tears freely fell from his eyes.

An abrupt sound made way to his ears and he turned around, finding his sixteen-year-old son holding Sunghoon. Jimin vigorously wiped his tears and gave Haneul a weak and quivering smile. The boy moved to put down the toddler he was holding in his crib and turned on the mobile, then mouthed to his father if he was okay, used to him being bubbly and strong for them, though it certainly wasn’t the first time he’d seen him cry. He took the role of confidant, listening to his father whenever he let himself be anything less than closed. He always looked so small, like a little boy. It always scared him. This wasn’t his big and amazing role model of a dad, was it? The one he bragged about to all his friends and anyone who would listen? Would he become like that, too? Out of the three kids, he was the one who remembered his mother the clearest, having been fourteen. He despised her, to put it nicely. He was the one that got to see to the extent that that woman caused their father to feel anguish, he got to know what not being loved by his mother was like.

Nodding, he ushered his oldest son out the room, more unrestrained tears rolled down his tear-stained cheeks. No matter how vigorously he wiped at them, they’d come back anyway, so maybe he should give up on wiping his tears just as he’d given up on trying to make his relationship work. It didn’t help that Haneul was the spitting image of his mother, either. Haneul wanted to press on, to question him and help him, but he decided to leave it. Glancing at both of his younger siblings sleeping, he decided maybe some things were better left unsaid. He slowly made his way to the door and once he reached it, pat his dad in the back and continued to his room. As Jimin tried to control his upcoming violent sobs, he shut the door behind him.

He couldn’t do this alone anymore. It was too much. He needed someone there.

   The cool autumn wind blew against Jimin’s cheek as he shook his hair to clear his fringe from his eyes. He brought his dainty hands into his jacket pockets as he puffed out air. While his breath may not have been visible, it sure as hell felt like it could be.

It was cold as fuck, to put it simply. Having a car would be absolutely beautiful right now, but circumstances really don’t line up with his wishes on the regular. He always kept forgetting to look into which car he would like best and to go purchase it, but the subways facilitated his route home and to work somewhat. His life would improve tenfold once he remembers to buy a car. He was very forgetful since there’s only so much he can keep up with, his brain take up with his three kids and problems. He could do that in the three days he had left, he guesses. Maybe tomorrow if he sets a reminder, even, would he be able to get a car. Before he left, he had saved up money for a living space able to hold all 4 of them and a mode of transportation. He could get rid of his subway card and buy a car or something, anything but dealing with the surplus of rats and drunkards at the time he used it. His credit wasn’t bad either, which could probably lower his purchase a little. His oldest used the same transportation he did, but he just wanted to drive his kids to school in the mornings and drop them off. Even more so, Eunbyul was starting school in just a few days, so he couldn’t afford to just walk her to school as it was half an hour away from their apartment building or even use public transport. It just didn’t feel right to him. All those cute hairstyles he planned on doing on her would be ruined by the time they got there.

Jimin kept pacing along the sidewalk towards the apartment complex where his kids are expected to be sleeping. Expected. It was 1:05 A.M., after all. A father can only hope his children listened well to him. He could probably assume Haneul was studying or something and the other two were knocked out, children being unable to be awake for very long.

He sighed as he scratched his itching nose and gazed around the well-near-empty streets, save the occasional drunk or workers of the same hours as himself.

Work was everything but slow, as always. Obviously, as an exotic dancer, he should’ve expected that. He really thought he’d made it clear to the manager that he had to be home early to put his kids to bed and give Eunbyul her first out of five pep talks before she starts kindergarten for the first time ever in a week, but maybe he didn’t remember. He’ll put his money on that, Seokjin was always preoccupied with everything in the club and the additional two other locations. Being a considerate manager and good owner is hard work, after all. His forgetfulness caused Jimin to be overbooked and end his shift two hours later than he’d requested. At least he was getting paid very well for that, anyway, so he had next to no complaints.

Checking his phone, he saw 5 collective texts from his friends, Yoongi and Taehyung. These were two childhood best friends of his, every summer when he would visit his grandma in Seoul he would hang out with them. They were both neighbors from Daegu and would go to Seoul for the summer for the same reason Jimin did which caused his grandmother to meet them. A chance encounter leading to a life-long friendship. Taehyung, however, moved away to become an art major at NYU and Yoongi had followed behind, falling victim to Taehyung’s prettily warpped descriptions of the city. He was a kindergarten teacher and assumed the same role in the states and Taehyung became a critically acclaimed, wildly successful painter. Taehyung actually had children of his own in his time in New York and his twins were the same age as Eunbyul. He, however, was married to their mother, and happily too. For that, he always felt jealousy, despite not wanting to.

Tapping the notification to see all the texts displayed, he saw Yoongi whining about the fact that the first day of school is way too close for comfort and Taehyung’s smiley face reply to Jimin’s own “i’m going home now, if i don’t text you that i’m home within 20 minutes, use find my friends to go after me”. Nothing out of the ordinary. He lived in a crime-filled part of town. He was saving up to be able to buy either a nice enough house close to the school or an apartment of the same caliber in cash. Mortgages seemed messy to him, in all and he was frankly scared to do it.

Now, Yoongi’s whining is normal, but now it has increased tenfold as the news of him getting an assistant teacher was broken to him. Yoongi felt as though the school was insulting his ability to teach by putting another adult in the classroom (they’d assured that he needed an extra hand in the classroom as there were more kids than before in his class–he called bullshit though), but nonetheless, all Jimin could hope for is that he doesn’t “accidentally” show up to class with vodka in a water bottle again. Not after what happened last time.

Locking his phone and walking faster, his longing for the warmth of what he liked to call his “luxury” apartment shining through and suddenly beginning to be extremely prominent which resulted in a whine of I-have-to-walk-like-five-more-steps-to-get-inside-so-life-isn’t-fair escapes Jimin. He stared ahead, gaze landing on the once-silver gate. It was once beautiful, but since the new owners bought it, they paid no attention to outside view, or so he was told by the old lady next door, Janet. They knew everyone went there for the cheap prices anyway, she’d sigh. He really had to move into a house or something. He already had the money for a nice enough house or better apartment where all 4 of them could live happily though his job. Maybe he could look for a house only a few minutes away from the school. Mental note: look for house around school.

Quickly opening and speed walking to the elevator, he checked his phone once again. More drunk texts from the absolute best friend that he loves so very much in this very moment, Yoongi. He really did take his devastation seriously, as he shared a selfie with him and vodka with a text after saying “my news befrenddf!!!!!!!!”. Jimin let out a huff of amusement and disbelief. The man was almost in his late 30s and he still acted like he could be the age of his students.

The unlocking to the apartment was bittersweet. Suppressed memories always seemed to float into his conscious one by one when coming through the door, when silence and darkness met him. That house of cards-like mirage he’d fabricated all on his own tormented him because how could he be so stupid and naïve to believe two children would fix their doomed relationship. He was never happy, not after she barely showed up at home after giving birth. Not after she’d come home often with the stench of alcohol, cigarettes, and sex on her. She was the one who could never be a parent. The one that selfishly left when offered money and riches. The one who didn’t even think twice about accepting the offer. The one that left him for a richer man despite their various kids. The one he’d had to lie to his daughter about when asked of. The one that never thinks of her own kids and has started a new life with brand new kids and husband. The one that’s too late to fix things. The one he and his teenage son loathe with every fiber of their being.

He really had to move away to a nicer place. Sighing, he dragged his boot cladded feet along the living room towards his room to begin his night routine. His two jobs relied on his face and his body, so taking care of both was extremely important, mental stability somewhat important too. He kicked off his shoes and snaked out of his clothes, took his pj’s, and padded towards the bathroom. The most relaxing parts of the day for him were most simply when he saw his kids in the morning and taking a shower after being in a packed and hot night club, full of dried sweat which gave him a not-so-pleasant stench. Eunbyul just knew her daddy was a dancer; she didn’t need to know the explicit details. At least not until the age of thirteen, or maybe older (he hoped), when her very own older brother found out.

He scrubbed every inch of his body until his skin turned red because god, he could not stand the stench just rolling off him in waves. Now, he was fine. He was happy, scent of the bubblegum body wash Eunbyul insisted on buying filling his senses. He was finally home, and his daughter was turning a new chapter in her life. She was going to learn how to read and he would teach her the same things he’d taught her brother. How he loved that, the feeling of satisfaction reached after your child now knows something they didn’t before. He loves the way her eyes light up when she learns something. He loves it all, and he hopes it’ll last forever.

He remembered he should probably invest in a car and a house closer to the school, a 30-minute walk was no joke. He finally dragged his fatigued fingers to set the reminder.

© princegguk — all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any medium and translations are not allowed.

#btsghostie #jimin x reader #pjm #jimin #park jimin #jimin fanfic #jimin fluff #jimin angst #dad jimin #single father jimin

[hayden-thefuck-whywouldyoudothis]

The Inevitable

Hello wonderful people! This is going to be my first ever fanfic that I am posting anywhere, so please be nice. I would appreciate feedback, and I think that if it does well here I’ll post it n Ao3. 

I came up with this fic idea a little while back, and I’ve been writing it since 03/13/21. Basically the idea is that while Tommy was in the afterlife, he met characters who died during Tales From The SMP episodes that took place in the past. They told him their stories, and Tommy connected the dots. He goes to confront Karl in Kinoko Kingdom.

This story includes a headcanon that is not mine. I read a fanfic with the mute!Karl headcanon. The story was an absolute banger. If you want to hear a little more about that go read their story Come Home With Me by icaruswontmelt on Ao3

Story starts under the cut .

The Inevitable, by BangHaydenCoven

Death was the one thing that had always been truly eternal. When Wilbur came back as Ghostbur, it had seemed like death maybe wasn’t completely permanent because Wilbur was back. But he hadn’t been brought back to life. He was a ghost, a shell of the person he had been before everything went to shit. Tommy had truly thought that death was the one thing that stayed constant on this god-forsaken server. Being beaten to death and brought back by the person who hurt you so deeply puts a lot of things that were just beyond reach of perfectly understandable, into perspective. In the amount of time that had gone by while Tommy’s life actually went to hell and back, everything had changed. Tubbo had gotten married of all things, He had a kid. And a new best friend as well, apparently. There was, for the first time in a long time, a semblance of peace between all of the factions. Peace smashed, the moment he had been let out of the prison. No one looked at him the same way anymore. No one looked at him like the kid he was. The kid he was supposed to be. All they saw was an anomaly. Not a real, live, breathing person who has feelings and needs validation, just like other people. Proof of something that never should have been real. 

Since declaring that Dream had to die, Tommy had holed himself up in his little house dirt mound of a house. When he finally got over the initial panic, the firsthand terror of forcing himself to think about the time he had spent dead, he allowed himself to do it freely. Puffy had told him it was good to think back on the trauma. He wasn’t sure just how much he could trust that ideology, but it seemed to work for the most part. Tommy had spent the majority of his time in the afterlife with the people he had known when he was alive.  Wilbur, Schlatt, Mexican Dream. It had been pretty simple. They spent a lot of time playing card games, for some reason. But one day, a fight had sparked between Tommy and Schlatt, causing the younger to storm off into the distance. He had been fuming that day. It hadn’t even been a fight that made sense. Schlatt had thrown some baseless accusations his way, and Tommy had just given up. He needed a break. So he walked away. 

He walked.

And he walked.

And he walked.

And he walked.

And he stopped.

Looming over him was a building that was like nothing Tommy had ever seen. It was old, dusty, and cold. It belonged in the afterlife, to put it simply. It fit. It was a simple embodiment. Then, laughter filled the air. Frightening, drunk laughter that was cold but inviting. Tommy followed the spine-chilling noise into the building where he found four people. Three were dressed like they were from the Wild West. Cowboy hats, cowboy boots, and simple revolvers at their hips. The fourth was also clearly from the same time period, put was dressed simply. When he walked into the building, they just stared at him. Cold, level stares that made him feel like he would rather die all over again then be stuck under those gazes for the rest of eternity. But suddenly the looks of the people softened as they beckoned him over, introducing themselves as Connor, Mason, and Jack Kanoff. They were group of bandits called the Democrat Haters, and a simple bartender named John John. They told him their story, to put it simply. They told him how they died.

That was only the beginning.

Tommy wandered for a week straight, meeting people, hearing their stories. He met higher members of society who attended a masquerade only to die brutal deaths at the hands of a possessed butler, the members of a village with a crazed murderer that didn’t know haw to stop, that killed people brutally, among many others. And every single story Tommy heard had a one thing in common. There was always one man, in every story, who appeared out of no where, wearing colourful clothing and iridescent goggles perched on his head. He didn’t always use the same name, but he was always there, no matter when it had happened. As Tommy moved around his home to prepare, one thought rang true in his mind. 

Karl was getting a visitor tomorrow.

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Walking to Kinoko Kingdom had taken a lot longer than Tommy had originally thought and planned for. Not that the little settlement was close to the rest of the Greater SMP, but it wasn’t far either. Regardless of distance, it was still far too long of a walk for Tommy to be in a good mood when he arrived to find Sapnap of all people tending to the garden in Kinoko. Usually Tommy would have snuck up behind Sapnap and scared him to intentionally piss the older man off, but that was the old Tommy. The old Tommy had stayed dead. Instead, he announced his presence by kicking an acorn at the other mans head. There was a loud yelp, followed by a string of curses that matched the flowers in the garden with how colourful they were.

“George, I swear to god, if-” his sentence dropped of in a look of pure disbelief as he turned around, expecting to see his best friend that deserved a good scolding. A dead teenager was definitely different. And confusing. 

“Shit...” Sapnap mumbled, “Tommy?”

“Hello Sapnap. I must say its very nice to see you doing something other than killing pets. Or your fiances.” He smirks.

“Well it’s definitely you. The question is how. How are you alive?” he says as the shock on his face fades into confusion mixed with disbelief. Tommy freezes. 

“Only if your okay with it of course. Don’t answer if your not comfortable. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought that up. That was insensitive of me...” he trails off as he realizes Tommy seems less stressed at the fact that Sapnap isn’t going to make him talk about it.

“Sapnap,” Tommy started, “I need to talk to Karl. Like, right now.” 

“Alright,” said Sapnap, nodding slowly, “I’ll go get him. Stay right here.” As Tommy watched the other man walk away to retrieve one of his fiances, he really hopes that what he is about to accuse Karl of is wrong. Maybe one day they’ll laugh about this. Probably not.

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As Sapnap entered the house, looking for his fiances, he couldn’t help but wonder what it was that Tommy so urgently needed to talk to Karl about. Not finding his fiances on the first floor of their shared house, he went upstairs to continue his search, not wanting to keep the teen waiting for too long. As he opened the door to the throuples bedroom, he let out a small huff of affection when he saw his fiances, the loves of his life, asleep in their bed. Quackity had his arms around Karls waist, with his wings over both of them like a blanket, reflecting the golden light of the sun filtering through the window. Not wanting to disturb the scene in front of him, he let out a small sigh of annoyance as he forced himself to wake up Karl, and by extension Quackity.

“Theres someone here who wants to talk to you.” he muttered softly in Karls ear. 

“Who?” Karl signed sleepily.

“Tommy. It seems pretty important. He’s down in the garden.” Sapnap said a little louder, seeing that Q was now awake, so there was no reason to stay quiet.

“Alright.” He signed, “Let’s go.” as he got up, he tugged on Quackity’s sleeve lightly. “Are you coming, Q?”  He nodded and gave a small smile.

“Alright,” Sapnap said, pulling Quackity into a quick hug, and giving him a quick kiss on the temple, “Let’s go then.”

As they left the house and approached Tommy sitting at the picnic table in their back garden, they exchanged a small conversation in sign language.

“Is he okay?” said Quackity with some concern clear on his face, his movements slow and scuffed from sleep.

“He looks really tired.” Sapnap added.

“Q, could you run in and prepare some sandwiches and lemonade?” Signed Karl, “We’ll bring Tommy inside and we can all have lunch together while we talk.”

“Of course, my love.” Said Quackity, giving Karl a small kiss on the cheek before hurrying inside to prepare some lunch.

Turning to Tommy to thank him for waiting, he was met with a face of absolute, genuine confusion. As Tommy stared at their hands, then looked back over to Karl, his face quickly changed to a look of understanding.

“I forgot,” he said as he stood up sheepishly, “that Karl was mute.”

“That’s okay Tommy.” Karl cut in before Sapnap could say anything, “I know you’ve been through a lot recently. It’s okay to forget things from time to time. I should know.” Karl signed slowly so that Tommy could keep up with his rusty remembrance of sign language, adding a small smile at the end of his sentence. 

“Thank you Karl.” Tommy said with a sigh of relief.

“Would you like to come inside and have lunch with us? I know you have something to talk to me about, but you look hungry. We could talk right after though. How does that sound?” Karl signed with a smile on his face.

“That sounds great.” Tommy said after a beat of hesitation.

“Perfect,” said Sapnap, “let’s head inside. Q is making some sandwiches.” They all headed inside, one dreading the talk that would come after, the other two wondering what could possibly be so important to cause Tommy to come all the way out to Kinoko Kingdom to talk to Karl.

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Tommy and Sapnap sat down at the table in the dining room as Karl went into the kitchen to help Quackity. Usually it would be all three of the in the kitchen, making food and having a good time, but Sapnap needed to take advantage of the situation at hand. Since he hadn’t visited the main SMP in a while, Tommy gave him the rundown of the current and recent events he knew of. Nothing too bad, but Sapnap knows you can never be too careful. A few minutes later, Quackity and Karl emerge from the kitchen carrying some plates and the food. As they sit down and start to eat, Sapnap and Quackity make small talk that Karl contributes too every once in a while with some one handed movements, putting his sandwich down when it was necessary. But Tommy stayed quiet, which the fiances found quite odd. Clearly whatever the boy had been through recently, on top of all his other trauma, had really messed with him. The loud, boisterous teenager they had known before was gone, replaced with someone they didn’t recognize in the slightest. So Tommy stayed silent the entire time, not noticing the quick, worry filled glances the trio sent his way every so often.

Soon enough, they had all finished eating. They were sitting in the fiances’ living room together, Tommy on one couch, the tree of them on the other. The room sat in an awkward silence as Karl, Quackity, and Sapnap waited for Tommy to talk to them, and as Tommy decided what to say.

After a moment, Tommy said, “Are you sure you want them here for this?” Karl’s eyes widened at how blatant he had been.

“Of course I want them here.” He signed quickly, “They are the people who matter most to me. Whatever you need to say to me you can say to all three of us.” Sapnap and Quackity nodded, not wanting to disrupt anything.

“Alright,” Tommy sighed, “Where should I start...” Karl’s hands stayed firmly in his lap to give Tommy a moment to think. “Well, I guess I’m just going to say what I came here to say, and pray to Prime that I’m wrong.” Karl nodded, once, slowly. Tommy took a deep breath before opening his mouth and saying...

“Your a time traveler, aren’t you?”

Silence.

And then laughter

All he could hear was laughter.

Sapnap and Big Q were laughing. 

Karl was not.

Karl was not.

Karl wasn’t laughing.

The look on his face was not one of someone who had just been accused of some laughable fallacy.

A fantasy, really.

Sapnap and Quackity had stopped laughing.

They seemed to have come to the same conclusion that Tommy had.

“Karlos?” Quackity started, “There is no possible way...” he stopped, a look of pure disbelief on his face.

“Tell me that he’s lying Karl.” said Sapnap. “Please.” Karl’s hands started to move, making aborted and scuffed movements as he tried to figure out what to say.

 “No,” He finally settled on, “he’s right. I’m a time traveler.” Sapnap started crying at this, and Quackity gave him a hug as he buried his face into his fiances neck. Karl looked completely torn. He clearly wanted to comfort his fiances, but he knew he shouldn’t while Tommy was still here. But he also didn’t know if he could. Karl didn’t know if he was even still allowed to comfort them after keeping this big of a secret from them, and for so long. Karl started signing again, this time with clear urgency behind each movement.

“Two things, and then I need you to leave. Understood?”

“Of course,” said Tommy, “I will leave immediately.” Karl nodded.

“Thank you. First things first,” he signed, “how did you know?” Tommy sighed. He really didn’t want to talk about this. But Karl deserved to hear the truth.

“When I died, I was in the afterlife for a little while,” Tommy said softly, “One day I walked away from the people I knew in the afterlife, Schlatt, Wilbur, and Mexican Dream. I walked for so long I came across a building I had never seen before, and when I went in I met a group of people from the Wild West.” Karl’s eyes had gone wide.

“You met Jack and Mason and Connor?” he signed.

“Yeah, and John John as well. They told me what happened the day they died, and they mentioned you. Not directly, but they mentioned a man that had showed up out of nowhere wearing bright colours and iridescent goggles.” Karl looked wistful, remembering his time sent in the Wild West, even if it hadn’t been an exceptionally fun trip at the time. Tommy continued. “I also met the people who visited the masquerade, same story. But this time they mentioned your name. And lastly I met the townfolk of the Village that went Mad. Same story, but no name once again. I just connected the dots.” Tommy fell silent, waiting for Karl to tell him something. Sometime during his revelations, Sapnap and Quackity had left the room to comfort each other. Karl clearly wanted to tell them he was sorry, but he couldn’t do that until Tommy had left. Turning back to the teen, he started signing once more.

“Thank you for telling me, Tommy. I just have one thing to ask of you, then you can leave.” Tommy nodded his head, and Karl continued, “You cannot, under any circumstances, tell anyone what you know. It would put everyone in grave danger. Is that clear?”

“Of course. I won’t tell a soul.” Karl gave him a small smile. “Now I think you should go talk to your fiances.”

“I will,” he signed, leading Tommy to the front door, “Goodbye, Tommy. Have a good trip back.”

“Goodbye, Karl.”

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

As he walked towards the door of their shared bedroom, he could barely hold himself back from running to the room to comfort them. But Karl couldn’t be sure that they would ever be the same again. It broke him to think that, but he had lied to them, for a long time. They probably hated him.

He stopped outside of the door, hearing faint sounds of crying on the other side of the door. He slowly opened the door to see Quackity and Sapnap cuddled up together against the headboard of their bed, with all of the lights out. Sapnap was asleep against Quackitys chest, tear tracks all over his face. Q wasn’t much better.

“Hey Karl.” Quackity said softly, sniffling a little.

“Hi.” he signed back, gong to sit on the edge of the bed. “I’m so sorry.” he signed after a beat of silence. “I have no excuses. I just wanted both of you to be safe from it.”

“But... what is it, Karl? Why couldn’t you tell us? Are these the trips you’ve been going on? Does it have something to do with your memory problems?” Quackity rambled, question after question. He cut off when he realized how tense Karl looked. “...sorry.” he said, lowering his voice once more.

“Woah, Q, it’s okay. But I can only answer one question at a time.” Quackity nodded. “It is the In-Between,” he started, making the ASL sign for between, then spelling it out, “I don’t actually know what it is, but I managed to get away from it recently. It was stopping me from telling you about my time traveling. It told me that telling you guys would put you guys in grave danger. I couldn’t let that happen. So I kept it a secret.” He stopped, hands dropping when he couldn’t figure out where to go from there. Quackity opened his mouth, about to ask a question, when he felt Sapnap stir at his side. 

“Hey babe.” Quackity said, Sapnap just let out a little huff. “Sap, do you feel up to talking right now?”

“...yeah...is he here?” he mumbled, voice heavy and slurred with sleep. 

“He is.” Quackity answered. Sapnap looked up at him, then looked over to Karl.

“Hi Sap.” he signed, not making eye contact. “I want to apologize to both of you. For not telling you. There really is no valid excuse that I have. The In-Between was crazy. I just wanted to keep both of you safe.”

“What is the In-Between?” Sapnap asked. Before Karl could answer, Quackity cut in.

“He doesn’t know, Sap.” he whispered. 

Sapnap continued, “I want you to tell us the whole story. Please?” Karl looked conflicted.

“Alright.” he signed, “I’ll start at the beginning.” So he did. He told them the whole story. By the time he had finished, all three had tears running down their face. “Do you understand now?” Karl wiped his eyes before continuing, “It wasn’t safe to tell you.” Sapnap nodded, eyes red and puffy from crying.

“You need to stop traveling Karl. Me and Sapnap wouldn’t be able to live with ourselves if you forgot everything.” said Quackity, pulling Sapnap even closer. Karl sighed.

“I can’t control the traveling. I don’t know if it will ever stop. All I need right now is you two. If I hadn’t wanted to get home to you guys so desperately, I would have forgotten long ago.” Karl got up and grabbed his journal. “Fill it.” he signed, after he gave it to his two fiances, “fill it with everything I need to remember. And when I come back each time, help me remember. Please.” Sapnap looked up at him, then glanced at Quackity, coming to a silent agreement. They would do anything to keep Karl with them.

“Of course we will, mi amor.” said Quackity, opening his arms to invite Karl to come sit with them. Karl smiled, tears running down his face once again, crawling into their warm embrace. And as they sat there, holding each other close, Karl took each of heir hands, pressing his favourite symbol in ASL into their palms.

“I love you.”

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Thank you for reading!!! Once again, if you like this, leave a comment or something, idk. And make sure to go check out the story linked at the top of this post for more about the mute!Karl Jacobs hc.

Have an amazing day, wonderful people.

#karlnapity #afterlife #karlnapity fic #ficlet #fanfiction #dream smp #dream smp au #quackity #sapnap #karl jacobs #tales from the smp #the masquerade #the village that went mad #the wild west #time travel #mute character #headcanon #canon divergent au

[blue-bird-on-a-wire]

Vercopa (Hope)

gif credit: @coredrive​

Part 1 of the Gar Cuyir Yaim series

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 3,620

Pairing: Paz Vizsla x (Y/n) with she/her pronouns

Warnings: Jabba’s slave culture, violence, threat of unwanted sexual harassment. This takes place in a universe where Jabba never died in Return of The Jedi (maybe he passed out or something).

Summary: All (Y/n) can remember is being sold to Jabba at a young age. She has grown up within his palace walls, hears tales of great warriors called Mandalorians. Just as she faces what may be her last few days alive, a big blue Mandalorian shows up.

A/N: Hi! This is my first time posting a fic on Tumblr. You can also find this on Ao3 under B1ue_Bird_0n_A_Wire. Please feel free to give feedback, as I don’t have a beta reader and often miss spelling mistakes. Or if you feel there need to be more warnings/other warnings, feel free to DM me! I don’t bite 😊. Enjoy!

The room was always full and loud, bustling with music from the band and conversation between various criminals. It was a place full of sleemos making deals, only to backstab each other when the twin suns set. The smell of sweat left a foul taste in your mouth, but it was easier to ignore the longer you stayed. One might say this palace was full of life if not for the giant slug who controlled everyone within it. All who stayed there were either a slave through debt or in chains.

I was not so lucky as to be a slave through debt. I could not work my way out of slavery, for I was in chains.

Sold to Jabba as a girl, almost all of my life had been within his palace walls. I had been a server while growing up. Hardly anyone ever paid attention to me as I scrambled around the place. I served and refilled drinks, or cleaned up after “guests” who died by the hand of Jabba's goons.

My biggest fear, aside from the rancor pit beneath my feet, was being turned into one of Jabba’s dancers. He went through them faster than a womp rat could scurry through an alleyway at night. If Jabba’s rancor wasn’t fed by someone who failed to pay back their debt, it was fed by a dancer after Jabba grew tired of them. A pretty face would only last so long.

I had learned a lot from listening to bounty hunters tell stories about their travels. My favorites were the stories about the Mandalorians. They were warriors who lived by a strict code and valued family just as much as they valued their weapons or beskar armor.  

As a child, I would dream of these Mandalorians coming to Jabba’s palace, and taking me away. They would raise me to be one of them like I was a foundling. I wanted to be strong like a Mandalorian too, in how they could strike fear into even the most dangerous criminals with only a tilt of their head.

Although I had never seen one before, I knew they wore what was called beskar armor, and were not allowed to take off their helmets. Some people said they would paint their armor a different color from the shiny silver of beskar metal. I remember overhearing a conversation about Mandalorian traditions in regards to their loyalty and the love for their children. I painted a picture in my head of these great warriors and idolized them as the heroes in my daydreams. I never thought I would meet a real one.

~ ~ ~

“‘Nother round o’ spotchka!” a bounty hunter called as I walked past his table. “An’ ‘Urry it up, Babe!”

I did my best to refrain from rolling my eyes as I quickly made my way to the bar.

The thin metal collar around my neck rubbed at my skin as I turned my head to look up at the bartender. It was a constant reminder of my place within this hierarchy, though after so long I had nearly grown numb to the pain. 

“Spotchka please, for table six,” I said, watching as the bartender took a glance behind me to make sure there was actually someone at that table.

There were no true friends here. It was almost a rule to expect lies coming from everyone's mouth. Besides, Jabba had issues with his slaves and alcohol consumption in the past, hence the unease for my honesty (not that I had ever been dishonest with this bartender before). The bartender turned around and pulled a glass from off the shelf. He filled it with the glowing blue alcohol and slid it across the bar table.

I smiled at him, picked up the glass, and gave a nod in thanks.

Though I did my best to ignore it, my neck burned at the gesture. I couldn’t wait to get my hands on a little bit of bacta gel from one of the closets downstairs. I planned to sneak in there while no one was watching. Maybe I could find a few moments to myself as well, away from the hustle and bustle of the people in the throne room.

“Took ya long enough, Babe. I was startin’ to think ya ‘ad forgotten abou’ me,” the bounty hunter said as I returned with his alcohol. He stroked his patchy beard and eyed me up and down while I set his drink on the table.

I kept my gaze cast downward with my lips tightly pressed together. All I wanted was to get in and out without being noticed, but as I have grown older that had become much harder to do.

Just as I turned to leave, I saw the bounty hunter pick up the glass and dump its contents on the floor.

“Oops,” he said. “Guess ya gotta clean that up, Babe.”

I could feel my face heating up, knowing full well what game he was playing at. I wasn’t stupid. I had seen guests do this to other slave girls before. It never ended well for one or the other person.

I pulled a rag hanging from my belt, as it was common for me to be cleaning up spills. Instead of bending over, I chose to keep my front facing the bounty hunter and squat in order to wipe up the blue alcohol.

“‘Ome on now, Babe! Don’ be tha’ way,” the bounty hunter wined, banging his fist on the table as I stood up.

“Would you like another drink?” I asked, plucking the now empty glass from the table.

“Betta’ watch ya tone with me, ‘ittle one. I’m sure Jabba woulden’ wanna ‘ear abou’ trouble comin’ fro’ ya.”

I smiled, though it did not reach my eyes. “I’ll take that as a no,” I said and walked away to dispose of the rag and fetch a new one. I felt proud of myself, though the feeling did not last very long.

“Jabba!”

The throne room grew quiet with the bounty hunters' booming voice.

My blood ran cold and I froze in place.

Jabba finished chewing on a roasted frog before grumbling out in huttese.

“The great and powerful Jabba demands to know what you want, bounty hunter,” translated the crime lord’s red protocol droid.

The middle-aged man stood from his seat, drunkenly staggering up to Jabba’s throne.

“Don’ ya think tha’ pretty ‘ittle server ovah there,” the bounty hunter pointed at me. “Odda make a good danca?”

I thought my knees were going to collapse. I could feel my fingers twitching around the glass, and my eyes widened as I watched him.

Jabba paused for a moment before speaking.

“The all mighty Jabba wants to know what makes you say this,” droned the protocol droid.

The man looped his fingers through his belt while he turned to look at me. “She’s been ‘ere for a long time, Jabba. She’s experienced with this crowd. I’d imagine she’d make herself more useful to ya in tha’ way before her expiration date.”

My heartbeat was picking up speed with every second this dragged on. My expiration date? What, were they planning to kill me once I reached a certain age or something?

Jabba spoke again, his tone was much harsher than before.

“The great and powerful Jabba says you should not be telling him what to do.”

“Oh! Bu’ o’ course not! Look, Jabba, all I’m askin’ is tha’ ya-”

Jabba cut the bounty hunter off and spoke more aggressively.

Everyone in the room flinched back at his tone, even the protocol droid.

“The all mighty Jabba says you are in no position to be making deals, bounty hunter.”

“Jabba! Jabba! Now, wait a minute and jus’ liste-”

The overgrown slug slammed his fist down on a button on his throne, opening the rancor pit.

Gasps could be heard through the room as the bounty hunter fell into the beast’s layer.

The crowd quickly swarmed around the grates on the floor, subsequently pushing me forward as well. They laughed and jeered as the rancor was released from its cage.

I felt my stomach churn as I listened to the bounty hunter screaming and pleading for his life. I would never understand the appeal of watching a monster devour people.

At least that man would never pray on anyone ever again.

As the rancor picked up the helpless bounty hunter and swallowed him whole, the crowd let out a big cheer.

I was nearly elbowed in the face with all the commotion before the crowd pulled back and dispersed to where they had been before.

I shuffled backward with everyone, the breath I had been holding was finally released.

This must have meant I would remain a server after all.

Jabba finished laughing, and I began to leave and fetch another towel when I heard my name leave his slimy lips.

Oh boy.

I halted in my steps, dread shooting back down to the pit of my belly. I turned on my heels, knowing one should never leave Jabba waiting.

“Yes, great and powerful Jabba?” I squeaked out, quiet enough that I wasn’t sure I had been heard at all.

Jabba hummed before he spoke.

“The all mighty Jabba says the bounty hunter was stupid, but made a good point,” explained the protocol droid. “You are getting old, and your youth will not last for much longer.”

I didn't think I was that old. I must have been in my 20′s at least. If I wasn't so terrified, I might have been offended.

I tried to control my trembling but my muscles ached with the effort. Was it hot in that room, or was it just me?

Jabba gestured to some of his goons as he continued to speak.

“He says you have one rotation to learn the dances.”

One of Jabba’s goons grabbed me by my upper arm, dragging me away into the back of the Palace while the music resumed and chatter once again filled the palace.

I had no words, but my thoughts were running a mile a minute. This was it. This would be my death. Within a week I would be eaten by the seething monster below if I wasn’t sold off to a bounty hunter as payment or reward for a job well done.

I couldn't even dance! How was I supposed to learn to dance in twenty-four hours? I could probably wiggle like a Hutt, but nothing more elaborate than that!

Who was I kidding? With my only skills as a scurrying little waitress, my lack of grace when it comes to moving my body in any fashion, and my definitely-not-as-beautiful-as-a-twi'lek’-body there was no way I would survive even an hour on that throne.

Before I could register what was happening, I was being fitted into royal blue undergarments underneath a black fishnet jumpsuit. The outfit left hardly anything to the imagination. This was something I had once seen a green twi'lek girl wearing several years ago. Oola, I believe was her name. It seemed as though Jabba had someone fish her outfit from the inside of his pet’s belly. Maybe it was worth more than it looked, but I would not want to be the one assigned the task of retrieving it.

I was shoved into a secluded room, where a holo-vid with a skinny-looking rodian was showing demonstrations for various dance moves.

As soon as Jabba’s goon left, I began to watch the rodian. I stood and tried to copy his gestures and from, but ultimately I stumbled over myself and was left winded.

Late into the night, I continued to practice until the soles of my bare feet hurt. I could already feel the blisters I would have in a few hours, and I had grown frustrated.

I was about ready to completely give up, curl into a ball on the floor, and cry myself to sleep. It felt useless anyhow. The rancor probably already knew my name, and was just waiting for me down below.

I felt hopeless, at least until I began to think about those Mandalorian stories.

I was sure a Mandalorian would never give up. They probably fought until their very last breath even when they knew the end was staring them straight in the eyes.

I took a deep breath, grounded myself, and did the best that I could to fight through the pain, tiredness, and hopelessness that threatened to break me.

Keeping track of my feet while also making sure to move my arms and put on a smile was difficult. It was like juggling glasses of spotchka while walking on a tightrope over a Sarlacc pit. However, I was determined to figure it out.

I would not be a pathetic little thing who laid down at death's door. I was going to fight with everything I had, even though I felt like I was attacking a Krayt Dragon with a spoon.

Come morning, my muscles were stiff and ached. I was covered in layers of sweat, but I knew I had done all I could to prepare myself to go out with a bang.

I was led to the sonic showers, where I cleaned myself up before donning that same dancer's outfit as before. It was as though the whole outfit screamed my designation as a slave, with the revealing design meant for the pleasure of anyone but the wearer.

No matter, I fixed my hair and kept my chin up as I was escorted back to the throne room.

Sure enough, Jabba was waiting with a heavy-looking chain in hand.

He said something in huttese that the protocol droid did not translate before he clasped the chain to a loop in the front of my collar.

I had never been this close to the crime lord before, but I swore his breath could kill alone. That must have been how he had risen to power, as I just could not imagine Jabba as a fighter who won his way to victory through blaster fire or skill with a vibroblade. No, he most defiantly must only need to burp to murder everyone within the room. If I didn’t know any better, I would say the entire palace only smelled so badly because of him.

"The great and powerful Jabba commands you to sit," says the protocol droid.

It was only then that I realized Jabba had addressed me, as he gestured to a spot on his throne beside his tail.

I moved to that spot and crossed my legs as I sat there, the chain swaying heavily with my movements.

I lifted a hand to rub the irritated skin around my neck, only to flinch away as the touch of my fingers stung my skin. Perhaps touching my wounds was worse in the long run. Disappointment filled me knowing there would be no way to get ahold of that batch gel now.

I wondered how difficult it would be to dance with the giant chain connected to my collar because of the extra weight it put on my neck.

Soon enough, the crowd in the throne room was as lively as ever, with the band playing their repetitive upbeat melodies.

For a few hours, not once did Jabba command me to dance, and for that I was grateful. My bare feet were allowed a few hours of rest, while my mind was allowed to wander.

Would it hurt to die? Would I feel my soul slipping from my body? What would happen in death? Would everything go black or would there be something waiting beyond it? My mind was spiraling and all I could focus on was my inevitable doom.

That was until a new bounty hunter entered the palace.

Thud. Thud. Thud. His steps were heavy.

He was huge, dressed from head to toe in blue armor. Easily 6’6”, this man could command the room with his size alone.

I struggled to find what he was looking at, as the dark visor on his helmet left no clues as to where his eyes wandered.

Jabba laughed as he spotted the bounty hunter. He raised his arms in welcome.

"The all mighty Jaba wonders what you are doing here, Mandalorian," translated the protocol droid.

Mandalorian? Wait a minute. This was a Mandalorian?

I felt my face heat up in embarrassment while my spine straightened a little. I had been waiting for a Mandalorian my whole life, but it occurred to me at that moment I was dressed in something so revealing when one finally showed up. I hoped he wouldn’t notice me, but I was right beside Jabba which made that very unlikely.

He looked so much more powerful than I had imagined those of his creed to be. This man would be able to take on a rancor just by barreling into it, given how much he looked like a tank. There was no doubt in my mind anymore about how Mandalorians were able to tame the great Mythasaures on their homeworld.

There was something about him that was also familiar. Perhaps it was the black visor which hid his eyes, or simply the general design of his armor. I felt like I had seen those of his kind before, though I swore I had never met a Mandalorian before. Surely I must have been creating false memories for myself.

The Mandalorian paused in front of Jabba's throne, and it became apparent he made sure not to stand above the entrance to the rancor pit.

"I mean you no trouble, Jabba. I am only seeking out a bounty said to be hiding within your palace," the Mandalorian said. His voice was deep and raspy, like the rumbling of a generator just before it reaches full power.

As Jabba again spoke in his native language, I noticed the Mandalorian’s helmet tilt in my direction and his shoulders tensed.

There was no way he was looking at me, right! It had to of been someone behind me.

He was definitely looking at me, and I was trembling from both fear and excitement under his gaze. He could shoot everyone in this room if he wanted to and not suffer a scratch from it.

From the bottom of my heart, I hoped he was here for me, though I knew those thoughts to be childhood fantasies. I had lost hope long ago of seeing the stars one last time before I would die in this place.

"The wise Jaba asks who you are looking for."

The Mandalorian’s focus snapped back to Jabba. He unclipped a bounty puck from his belt. "I am here for someone that owes a debt to the crime lord, Twene Shias, here on Tatooine."

Jabba, as well as the crowd gasped. He pulled back and began to gesture wildly, which caused my chain to be inconsiderately tugged.

I tried not to choke at the movement while I scooted closer to the giant slug in an attempt to ease the pressure on my neck.

Jabba hummed before his protocol droid said, "The great and powerful Jabba, though shocked, wants to make a deal. He says he will hand over whoever you are looking for, in return for the murder of this Twene Shias."

The Mandalorian paused for a moment. "This bounty I am after is worth much less than the head of this other crime lord. Surely, as a part of one of the most powerful and wealthy crime syndicates, you can offer me a little bit more than this."

Jabba considered the Mandalorian’s words with small nods of his head.

"Jabba the Hutt says that although this is already a generous offer, he wants to know what else you might want."

The big blue Mandalorian nodded while he gestured with his helmet in my direction.

"How about her?"

Me? Was he serious?

Jabba burst into laughter, the crowd within the palace following suit.

I felt my face heat up and my heart jumped into my throat. I turned my head away from the Mandalorian, fiddling with my skimpy outfit.

I must have been dreaming. There was no way this mandalorian was referring to me. If he was, he had no clue just how useless I would be to him.

Once Jabba was able to get a hold of his laughter, he spoke again.

"The all mighty Jabba says this girl is not worth anything. She is a servant in this palace with no skill sets of value to a Mandalorian such as yourself," explained the droid. "That is, unless you are a Mandalorian with other needs."

The blue armored man scoffed. “Then Jabba can spare one measly dancer in exchange for the murder of a rivaling crime lord.”

Jabba, whose pride was easily wounded, wasted no time to correct his words.

“The great and powerful Jabba says that if this is what you wish, he will gladly transfer ownership of the girl to you after you bring back this crime lord’s head.”

I felt my heart skip a beat as my head shot up to look at the Mandalorian.

Oh my gosh, he was serious. I would belong to a Mandalorian? What would this mean? What would he want with me?

The Mandalorian puffed out his chest, “You have a deal. Now, where is the toydarian, Drob Tufme?”

Jabba gestured to some of his goons behind him, who quickly entered the crowd.

Yelling could be heard from near the bar before a hunched-over toydarian was shoved onto the floor at the Mandalorian’s feet. “Hey! Hey!” Drob Tufme shouted, scrambling to stand up. “I didn’t do nothin’! I don’t got no debt!”

The Mandalorian quickly shoved Drob to his knees, running the blinking red fob over his head before clipping it back onto his belt.

“Doesn't matter,” said the Mandalorian while he cuffed Drob.

The Mandalorian pulled Drop to his feet and gave Jabba a nod before he turned and dragged the squirming toydarian out of the palace.

There was a pause before the quiet throne room burst back to life with the Mandalorian now gone. It was as though a weight had been lifted from everyone’s shoulders.

It was at that moment a new realization came over me. I wasn’t going to die in this horribly smelly place. I wouldn't be eaten by the monster below, nor shot by stray blaster fire. I refused to allow myself to think about what my life would be like in the hands of this Mandalorian. I did not want to believe my circumstances could get any worse than they already were. Perhaps it was simply for the preservation of my sanity, but I felt giddy inside that my childhood fantasy of being taken away by a Mandalorian was sort of coming true. One should never give up on childish hopes.

(Part 2 coming soon!)

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