#flowerpot hammer

[prinnay]

Weapon fairy no. 5

Flame skimmer dragonfly, Calendula, Warhammer

#flowerpot hammer #weapon fairies #dragonfly #fairy #artists on tumble

[cowboymater]

i feel like i should justify the decision to expand haymitch’s family in my full-length fic of his games (16k words up now but it’ll be ~110k when i'm done)

in mockingjay, haymitch tells katniss that snow killed his mother, brother, and girl[friend] two weeks after his games. this feels like a pretty intentional parallel to katniss, who had her mother, prim, and gale as the people she was close to pre-games

and i understand making the parallel, esp when there’s only really a passing line abt his family, but i feel that a fleshed-out narrative (mine at least) is better served by enhancing the contrast between haymitch and katniss. let me explain:

haymitch goes into his games and wins them by embarrassing the capitol. his family is killed as punishment, and he descends into alcoholism to cope

snow doesn’t really have the option to kill katniss’s family, but if he had, i think it’s unlikely she would react the same way as haymitch. more probably she’d end up like johanna: angry, with nothing left to lose. when prim eventually dies she does shut down for a while, but we still see her get back up to assassinate coin

this is because, imo, katniss has a fairly dominant fight response. the gamemakers are ignoring her during her assessment? shoot at them. peeta says he likes her during his interview? lies, clearly, shove him into a large and breakable flowerpot. in mockingjay we see her butt heads with haymitch on this front, when she tears out the earpiece bc he’s telling her to retreat and she wants to take down the bomber jets

point: katniss had to develop this specific stress response because there was nobody there to take care of her, to fight the battles for her

haymitch, however, is very big on flight. he spent his entire games ignoring the mountain, the clear focal point of the arena, and getting as far from the action as he possibly could. he still fights when it comes down to it, but it’s never his first choice. after snow kills his family, he spends the next couple decades hiding at the bottom of a liquor bottle; while avoidance is understandable, remember that johanna suffers the same fate but goes down a very different path

haymitch (in my fic) still has to take on the role of provider as the eldest sibling and the only one eligible for tesserae. but w/ the additions there’s multiple parental figures to bear the load of raising his siblings, which serves as a buffer, and gives him the ability to practice avoidance instead of having to take initiative and confront everything head on

i feel that it makes a stronger contrast, at least for my purposes. katniss has no real support system when she goes into her games, and she gains one afterward (haymitch, cinna, peeta). expanding the abernathy family roster gives haymitch a support system that disappears after his games

i will be honest and say i do not remember my rationale for adding both a father and little sister, but for the grandmother i wanted to give him someone in his immediate life who had been alive before the games. haymitch displays a sort of defiance that nobody else really has the balls for, because to them the hunger games have been a thing forever. through his grandmother he's gained the perspective that yeah, this isn’t all-encompassing, the arena has to end Somewhere

it also hammers home one of my favorite things about the hunger games, which is the message of collective action and community. katniss might have been the face of the revolution, and her role is indispensable, but so is the role of everybody else. even just to make it out of the 74th games took a village: cinna crafted an image, peeta crafted a narrative, haymitch finagled sponsors. it’s because she gained this support system that she managed to accomplish what she did, in her games and still afterwards, and it’s because haymitch had his ripped away that he was lost for so long

because this is not a fix-it fic that means i now have to write a scene where they All get executed. which actually makes me a little nauseous to think abt. but them's the breaks ig

#et circenses ao3 #the hunger games #hunger games #haymitch abernathy #character analysis #ish #fic writing #ao3 writer

[fieldofdaisiies]

Elucien | When does it stop?

type: angst, sad warning(s): none actually, some self-deprivation word count: 1670

*all rights reserved*

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Elain’s scream hollowed through the whole Riverside House. In an instant Lucien was on his feet, running as fast as he could and neglecting that he did not wear anything other than his thin sleeping pants. 

He deliberated about knocking but decided against it and solely ripped the door open.

And there she lay: a shivering figure, curled into a ball and only dressed in a thin nightgown. Her whole figure trembled and it sent a bolt of burning iron right through Lucien’s chest. Yes, they had not yet accepted and yes, Elain did not show any sign that she liked him, but she was still his mate and he could feel her pain. He could feel her heart ache—break.

“Elain?” Lucien said, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Elain’s head shot up and she sat up in bed, the blanket pooling around her waist. Her red, swollen eyes met Lucien’s and locked, her lower lip trembling. 

“What are you doing here, Lord Lucien?” Elain breathed when yet another sob ribbed itself free from her throat. Lucien’s throat worked on a swallow and for a moment he lowered his gaze to the floor. The moonlight casted a shadow of Elain’s flowerpots that stood on the window sill on the floor. 

“I heard you scream and I wanted to check on you. May I come in?”

Whimpering slightly, Elain bit the insides of her cheek, but dipped her chin. Lucien released a sigh and closed the door behind him. He stepped inside, his presence filling the room and immediately giving Elain a feeling of comfort and peace. She could not quite place this feeling, could not quite say why she all of a sudden felt better, but it was good—a good feeling. Lucien hesitated—should he claim the chair in the corner of her room? Should he walk up to her bed? Should he stay where he was? Elain shuddered again and the emissary’s eyes immediately landed on the open window. He made a beeline for the window and closed it before turning back to his mate and deciding to walk up to her bed.

“Thank you,” Elain said and placed a small smile on her lips. “I really was freezing.” “I know,” Lucien breathed and came to a halt next to her bed. His heart was hammering up to his throat, his hands turning clamming. It was…they had never been so close before. Never been alone with each other before. 

“Could you feel it? Could you feel it through the…bond?” Elain asked, her big fawn eyes growing while she stared at Lucien. She pulled her knees to her chest, arms curling around them. Lucien smiled, lowered his gaze for a split second and shook his head. “No, Lady Elain, I saw you shivering.” Elain bit down on her lower lip and released something that sounded like a breathy giggle. “Oh.”

She shifted on the bed, making room for Lucien to sit. He was startled, not sure if she really meant it. His heart halted for a split moment when Elain patted the mattress next to her. He gave her a questioning look which Elain returned with the dip of her chin. Lucien sat, Elain’s sweet scent of honey and jasmine filling his nostrils. Gods, she looked beautiful with the moonlight falling over her face, her lashes drawing shadows onto her cheeks. 

“You look beautiful tonight, Lord Lucien,” Elain said and her eyes went wide. “I am sorry. I didn’t mean to…to say that out loud.” Lucien tried to fight against the broad grin that threatened to spread over his whole face, but still it broke out.

“Do not apologise for something like that. Thank you, Lady Elain, that was very kind,” Lucien said and smiled again. “I can only return that. You are beautiful and breathtaking, even now, after crying.”

Elain blinked rapidly, a few tears falling out of her eyes when she lowered her face. For a long moment she stared at the bedsheets and Lucien at her. He wanted to reach forward, place his hand on her shoulder, wipe away her tears, pull her to his chest, do something to make her stop crying. Gods, he felt so helpless. 

“You screamed. You had a nightmare?” Lucien asked and Elain nodded. “Would you like to talk about it?”

“I dreamt of the Cauldron,” Elain said and lifted her gaze again. She searched Lucien’s but his eyes were directed at the window next to her bed. Yes, he still blamed himself —at least partly— for what had been done to the sisters. He should have stopped it. He should have know what Ianthe was—

“I am not blaming you. And I would never blame you. It wasn’t your fault and I never thought that,” Elain said and now was the one to reach her hand forward. She brushed her fingers over Lucien’s lower arm to his palm and then interlaced her fingers with his. “Your hands are so big. So much bigger than mine.” A smile tugged on her lips again, but soon her expression turned grim once again. 

Lucien held her hand, his heart doing happy flips, although his chest still squeezed at his mate’s pain.

“But I could have done something,” he said and finally looked back at Elain. Elain shook her head. “No, it all had to be like that. It all had to happen that way. I am not telling you this as Elain, but as a Seer.”

Lucien squeezed her palm, his other hand coming to a rest on top of their two hands. “Is there anything I can help you with?” A shuddering sob left Elain, her chest rattling and aching. He just wanted to help, she told herself. And he already did. It had calmed her so much that he sat here with her, holding her hand. Her heart felt at ease, and she felt protected, but how could she tell him that. How could she ask him to stay here? After all those years of pushing him away she could not all of a sudden ask him to spend a night in her room, holding her hand so that she could finally sleep without fear of waking to a nightmare. 

“I want it to stop. I want the nightmares to stop. I want to find my place here. I want to fit in,” Elain cried, squeezing her eyes shut and wanting to pull her hand out of Lucien’s hold. She did not want him to see her cry so hard. She wanted to cover her face, but Lucien held onto her hand. “I don’t want to see my father dying anymore. I don’t want to relive the horror of being thrown into the Cauldron anymore. I want it all to stop. I want to be happy. I want to sleep at night. I want to close my eyes without seeing my father. Without seeing the king of Hybern. Without seeing all the dead the war against Hybern had claimed. I want to live a normal life. I want everything to go back to normal. I just want to be Elain, I just want to be happy.” Elain had emptied her whole heart, saying everything that she had been holding back for years. And it felt so good, she felt relieved about finally having opened up to someone. Not someone—to her mate. 

Lucien clenched his jaw, pain reaching Elain through the bond and he blinked his eyes for a long moment. 

“Will it help a little bit when I stay here? Maybe the nightmares won’t be too strong if you are not alone?” Lucien suggested and locked his gaze with Elain’s.

“Or should I get Nesta? Feyre?” Lucien swallowed thickly and said what pained him nearly as much as Elain crying. “Or Azriel?”

Elain looked up and furrowed her brows. “Not Azriel,” she quickly said and shook her head. “And not Feyre and not Nesta. They don’t understand it. They have adapted. They fit into the Night Court, I do not!”

Lucien knew this was true. Elain did not fit into the Night Court—Day Court it would be where she could flourish and bloom. But obviously he could not say that now.

“So I can stay?”

“I don't want to bother you, Lord Lucien.” “You are not bothering me. I would like to stay here. If it helps you it is the least I could do,” he told her and smiled. Elain shifted on the bed once again, making room for Lucien to lie down. She slipped her hand out of his. 

Lucien lay down on the mattress, his head coming to a rest on Elain’s pillow which smelled like her—absolutely divine. He smiled and opened his arms, not quite sure if Elain would accept his offer, but she did. Curling up in between his arms, with her back pressed against his front Elain released a shuddering sigh. “Thank you so much, this is so much better,” she mumbled and rested her cheek on Lucien’s biceps. He placed his other hand next to Elain’s body after having pulled the blanked over her body. 

“Would you like me to take you on a day trip to the Day Court? I think you would like it there,” Lucien asked into the dead silence of the room. His chest heaved against Elain’s back, his warmth wrapping around her body like a warm winter coat. 

“Would you really do that?” Lucien squeezed her and dipped his head against her shoulders. 

“I would love that,” Elain said and smiled to herself. “I am coming with you whenever you want me to. As soon as possible, I need to get out of here.”

Lucien breathed a tiny laugh, his warm breath tingling Elain’s neck. “I suggest we leave tomorrow then?”

“Please,” Elain smiled and squeezed Lucien’s arm that he hung over her waist. “Thank you so much for everything and also for your patience. And for being here.”

“Always, Lady Elain. Always.”

tags: @rippahwrites @shadowhunter2003 @my-inner-crisis @ladyelain @acourtofthought @itwasalwaysaboutthetea @multifictional

#elucien #elain x lucien #pro elucien

[dlea203]

5 years - Hannix AU

A/N: Hey everyone :)

This is my first Hannix story and the first time that I publish something here, so please be nice. I'm open to criticism and I understand that not everyone sees things the same way I do. That's completely okay, but I beg you to be respectful.

Anyway, there are a few things I'd like to make clear in advance: - English is not my first language, so my grammar skills and vocabulary knowledge are limited to what I've learnt in school and taught myself by reading fanfiction ;) - I'm 19 years old and very much aware of the fact that I have no idea about life. So if I describe some situations way too cheesy or too naïve, I'm sorry in advance! - And since I've never had a romantic relationship before, I have no idea about romantic love either, so my stories probably either make no sense or are again very cheesy and naïve. I'm sorry about that too! - Plus, I don't know anything about the Navy or the (U.S.) military, so whenever I include such things in this story, please remember that this is an AU, so I'm kinda pulling the creative liberty card here!

Alright, enough with making up excuses for lack of quality. I hope you enjoy this story and thank you for reading it :).

Taglist: @sweetwhispersofchaos

Warnings: Angst (not sure how heavy though, I'm still figuring that out...)

Previous chapter / Next chapter

Chapter One

His heart hammered in his chest as he walked up the stairs to the all too familiar front door. He inhaled the smell of freshly mown grass, salt water and the flowers that sat in the flowerpots on the front porch. The façade of the house was not as white anymore as he remembered it, but the color of the front door hadn’t changed since he had last seen it.

5 years. 

He’d been dreaming of this moment for 5 years. Now that it was just seconds away, he felt his hands starting to tremble and his palms became sweaty. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes for a moment to gather as much courage as possible, and knocked on the door.

For a few seconds, nothing happened. Then he saw a shadow nearing the door through the frosted glass. Was it her?

“Hi, can I help you?”

A blonde woman with a friendly smile on her face had opened the door and looked at him expectantly. He stared at her in shock, but quickly gathered himself and smiled nervously.

“I-… Is Natasha Seresin available?”

The blonde woman looked over her shoulder into the house.

“Natasha, here’s a gentleman who wants to talk to you!”

He breathed a silent sigh of relief. She still lived here.

“Wait, I’m coming.”

His heart skipped a beat. He’d yearned to hear that voice again. He laced his fingers in front of him to hide his trembling hands. The blonde woman eyed him up and down and stepped to the side. He waited politely on the porch though, figuring that she was just making space for the owner of the house.

Then, she finally rounded the corner and momentarily took his breath away. The wine-red sundress fit her body like it had been designed for her. She wore her dark brown hair down. It was just slightly longer than her shoulders and looked like a dark waterfall around her beautiful face. She was even more beautiful than he remembered her.

Then she met his eyes.

Her eyes widened and her mouth opened slightly. She let go of the plate she’d been holding, and it loudly smashed into pieces.

“No, this is impossible”, she whispered.

Jake smiled fondly. Tears were clouding his vision and he did his best to keep them from falling, but he lost that battle. A few happy tears fell down his cheeks.

“Hey Nat… I guess, it’s been a while.”

She stared at him like he wasn’t real, and it seemed like time had stopped for a moment. The blonde woman studied them and was utterly confused. But she didn’t say anything. It was like someone had turned off all the noises in the world, until a very familiar voice made Jake flinch.

“What’s going on here?”

Then, Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw rounded the corner, laid eyes on the scene in front of him and froze.

“What the hell?!”, he exclaimed and covered his chest with his right hand.

“It’s good to see you too, Bradshaw”, Jake huffed out, smiling.

“How on earth is this possible?”, Rooster asked breathlessly.

The answer was simple: It shouldn’t be.  Because they had been assured that it was impossible…

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

Thanksgiving, 5 years ago…

“Nat, I think someone just knocked on the door!”, Rooster shouted across the table.

“Really? I’m gonna check”, Natasha answered and motioned to the stove.

“Can you take out the turkey for me, please?”

“Sure thing. Babe, would you like to help me?”

Rooster and his wife Emma walked into the kitchen and took out the massive turkey, while Fanboy, Payback and Coyote did their best to keep their kids at the table in line. Liz, Coyote’s wife, laughed along with Fanboy’s girlfriend Jessica and Payback’s wife Shannon, at the miserable attempts of their significant others. Shannon, who was currently 30 weeks pregnant with twins, gently stroked her belly, while observing the situation. Hailey Esmée Fitch, the five-year old daughter of Payback and Shannon, seemed to be happy with the drawing utensils she’d been given. Marco Garcia, the three-year-old son of Fanboy and Jessica, Sam Fitch, the four-year old son of Payback and Shannon, and Jaylen Machado, the five-year old son of Coyote and Liz, were a bit more trouble though. They found great joy in throwing salad at each other while their fathers did their best to end the battle. Fanboy sighed in frustration and Jessica laughed while cuddling their newborn son, Enrique Garcia. Liz shook her head and tried to hide her annoyance by glancing over to the playmat in the living room. The sight of Luis Machado, her three-year old son, and one-year old Nicholas Pete Bradshaw cheered her up immediately. Luis tried to teach Rooster’s and Emma’s son how to play trains. Liz smiled at the boys once more, before shifting her glance to the bassinet in front of the large living room window. Lynn Helen Seresin was fast asleep, the rise and fall of her chest the only indication that she was still alive. The peaceful expression on her face warmed Liz’ heart. That little girl was the spitting image of her father and made Liz a tiny bit melancholic. Although he’d been a jerk in the past and at some point, during their long-lasting friendship, everyone had wanted to strangle him, no one could imagine a world without him in it. They all loved him dearly and on days like today, they missed him.

Meanwhile, Natasha opened the door and stood face to face with a Navy Officer.

“Misses Seresin?”, he asked carefully.

“That’s me. How can I help you, Sir?”

Rooster set the massive turkey on the kitchen island and motioned to the knife block on the counter. Emma shook her head but smiled at him affectionately.

“Let’s wait for Natasha. She should have the honor to cut it”, Emma said.

He nodded and looked towards the door. Emma did so too. Just as they set eyes on the scene at the door, the Officer took off his hat and held it in front of his chest, as he spoke to Natasha. Rooster and Emma couldn’t hear what he was saying, but suddenly they saw Natasha covering her mouth.

“No!”, she screamed and sunk to the floor.

The Officer crouched down and grabbed her arm to prevent her from hitting her head on the wall. Rooster and Emma rushed over immediately. Emma took a crying and screaming Natasha into her arms and gently stroked her back. Natasha mumbled something into Emma’s chest, but the sound was muffled by her blouse. The others at the table turned their heads, worried expressions on their faces. Rooster looked at the Officer, inwardly conflicted. He somehow had an idea what the Officer had told Natasha, but he prayed that it wasn’t true.

“What happened?”

“Are you related to Lieutenant Seresin?”

“I’m one of his best friends. What the hell happened?!”

“I’m not sure whether I’m allowed to tell anyone who’s not related to him…”

“Don’t do that please. We’ve flown many missions together and I’ve known him since flight school. Tell me what happened!”

In that moment, Natasha freed herself of Emma’s embrace and sprinted down the hallway to the guest bathroom. Emma followed her and got there just in time to hold her hair back while Natasha emptied her stomach into the toilet. She gagged and coughed and cried at the same time, barely holding herself together.

“I got you honey, just let it out”, Emma said softly and rubbed her back soothingly.

Natasha threw up again and weakly flushed the toilet. Then she fell back against the wall and tried to get as much air into her lungs as possible. Emma sat down next to her and gently caressed her arm.

“I’m so sorry”, Emma whispered.

“He can’t be dead! He needs to come home, he has a daughter… a little girl who needs her father!”

Natasha sobbed and felt like her heart had been ripped out of her chest. She had never felt such pain before. Not even during the birth of her daughter. Emma’s chest tightened when Natasha mentioned her little girl. 

“And I-I need him! He can’t just leave me alone! He p-promised to come home to me! To us!”

“Oh honey”, Emma breathed out and pulled Natasha into a tight hug.

Natasha clawed at Emma’s blouse and buried her face in her shoulder. She shamelessly let the tears fall and sobs escaped her mouth repeatedly. Emma held her tugged into her side and stared into nowhere. She couldn’t wrap her head around the fact that Jake was dead. She hadn’t known him for as long as Rooster or Natasha had, but he had always been such a bright light. Although her husband, Natasha and the other aviators had told her many stories about Jake's past, when he'd been an absolute jerk, she'd never seen that side of him. He had always been a gentleman towards her and the other ladies, and he’d been a wonderful husband to Natasha. At least, when Emma and Rooster were visiting, but she was pretty sure that he always worshipped the ground his wife walked on. Jake was her biggest fan and always on the forefront of pushing her to be better. 

And he’d been a wonderful friend. He was the one who’d driven Emma to the hospital when her water broke a week before the due date. He’d stayed with her until Rooster had made it to the hospital. He’d been the first one to knock on Coyote’s and Liz’ front door, when they moved into their new house at the other end of the city. He’d helped them move all of their stuff without expecting anything in return. And back when Payback was deployed a couple weeks before Shannon gave birth to Sam, he’d gone over to their house and set up the entire nursery, so Shannon didn’t have to lift a finger. 

Emma swallowed hard and blinked away the tears in her eyes. 

He was gone. 

That fact hit her hard. He’d never be here again. That thought devastated her and her heart ached for the broken woman in her arms. Her friend, who had just lost not only her husband and the father of her child, but her soulmate. Her everything…

Meanwhile, the Officer sighed and conceded.

“I must inform you that Lieutenant Seresin’s last mission went wrong. His jet was hit by a missile and crashed in the middle of the desert. The Base lost contact and the rescue team couldn't find him.”

Rooster’s eyes widened. The Officer reached into his pocket and handed Rooster a piece of paper.

“That’s all they found near the jet. It was completely burned out. They searched for Lieutenant Seresin within a three-mile radius, but they found nothing. He must’ve burned in the flames.”

Rooster stared at the piece of paper. It was a wrinkled photograph of Natasha and Lynn. Jake had taken that photo in the hospital, mere hours after Lynn had been born. Natasha smiled tiredly into the camera while Lynn was fast asleep in her arms. Rooster vaguely remembered that Jake had told him about this photo. That he kept it with him in the jet. It reminded him constantly what he had to lose and why he had to come back home. Rooster’s heart broke.

“Is there no chance that he survived? His wife and him have been married for only three years and their daughter is two months old. He’s barely seen her since she was born…”

“I’m afraid that it’s highly unlikely. The rescue team searched everything top to bottom and found no sign for survival… I’m very sorry for your loss.”

Natasha’s sobs were the only sound in the bathroom. Emma rubbed her back and did her best to provide some sort of comfort, while trying not to lose her mind. After a few moments, Rooster carefully opened the bathroom door and briefly glanced at his wife and his best friend. He hated the sight in front of him but kept his expression as neutral as possible.

“Emma, my love, can I talk to you for a second?”

Emma brushed Natasha’s hair out of her face and smiled apologetically.

“I’m gonna be right back, okay?”

Emma got up and followed her husband into the hallway.

“I just sent the Officer away. He reminded me that Nat needs to get in contact with Admiral Simpson as soon as possible. But… I don’t think that she’s in any condition to do anything by herself right now. I’m gonna tell the others to go home.”

“But we’re staying right?”, Emma asked.

“Yeah, of course. She can’t be alone now. I’m gonna call your parents to pick up Nick, okay?”

“Do that. I’ll stay with her and make sure that she breathes.”

Rooster kissed her on the cheek before walking back towards the dining table. Emma reentered the bathroom and closed the door.

“Alright guys, I hate to do this, but I need you to leave now…”

“Not before you tell us what the hell just happened”, Payback interrupted him.

“Language, honey”, Shannon protested and smacked her husband’s arm.

Rooster sighed.

“We’re not leaving until we know what happened”, Liz and Jessica insisted.

Rooster dropped his gaze and took a deep breath.

“We just learned that Jake’s mission in Afghanistan has gone wrong. He… He crashed.”

Rooster swallowed hard past the lump in his throat. Saying out loud that Hangman had crashed felt so wrong, that it was physically painful. Everyone was staring at him in shock.

“What?”, Fanboy breathed out.

“He was hit by a missile and crashed in the desert. The rescue team found neither a parachute nor his body. They could only recover this from the jet.”

He held up the picture of Natasha and Lynn. Shannon took it from him and studied it. She gasped and showed it to Jessica, who immediately started to cry. Fanboy rounded the table to take her into his arms. Liz pressed her lips together and gladly accepted Coyote’s hand, when he reached out for hers across the table.

“Jake told me once that he keeps this picture with him whenever he’s flying. It’s his lifeline. He’d never leave it behind”, Rooster mumbled, voice shaky.

“This is horrible…”, Shannon whispered and glanced towards the bathroom.

Rooster nodded and gazed at the children in the living room, completely oblivious to what was going on. The elder kids had joined Luis and Nick on the playmat, now all of them were playing trains together. Lynn still slept peacefully in her bassinet.

Payback broke the silence by carefully asking: “How is she doing?”

“Not good. Emma is with her right now and we’re gonna spend the night here. She shouldn’t be alone.”

“That’s good.”

“Should we take Nick with us?”, Shannon offered.

“Oh no, it’s okay. I’m gonna call Emma’s parents to pick him up.”

“Okay. Call us if you need anything, please?”, Shannon pleaded and rose slowly from her chair. 

Rooster nodded, while Shannon walked over to the playmat, and the rest of the group followed suit.

“Hailey, Sam, it’s time to go home. Say goodbye to everyone.”

“Why mommy? We’re still playing!”

“I know, but we have to go. Auntie Nat is not feeling good, so we’re gonna go home and let her rest. Say bye”, Shannon said softly and petted Hailey’s hair.

Hailey and Sam groaned, but waved goodbye to the others and let Payback sweep them up into his arms.

Liz, Coyote, Fanboy and Jessica gathered their kids and things too and Rooster accompanied them to the driveway.

“Hug her for me, okay?”, Liz asked while Coyote strapped the kids into their seats.

“Will do.”

Payback helped Shannon into the car. Fanboy closed the door on Marco’s side and stopped at the driver’s door, looking at Rooster once more.

“And promise me to call us, whenever you need anything, okay? Whatever it is, you call us”, he insisted before climbing into the driver’s seat.

Rooster nodded and waved them goodbye. He watched all the cars leave the driveway before he walked back inside. He carefully closed the door and spotted Nick at Lynn’s bassinet, watching her. Quietly, he walked over to his son, lifted him up and smiled at him, while Nick never took his eyes off Lynn.

“We have to be quiet, otherwise she wakes up”, Rooster reminded him, although Nick was perfectly quiet.

“Lynn”, he said and pointed at the sleeping girl.

“Yeah, that’s Lynn. She’s cute, huh?”

Nick nodded and continued to study Lynn. Rooster ruffled Nick’s hair, then he walked over to the couch to sit him down.

“Alright, buddy, listen to me. Auntie Nat is not feeling very good. Mommy and Daddy are going to stay with her, okay? We’re going to sleep here. But you won’t. I’m gonna call grandma and grandpa to pick you up, okay?”

Nick nodded.

“Good. I’m calling grandma now.”

Fifteen minutes later, Emma’s parents knocked on the front door.

“Hey”, Rooster greeted them.

“Hi Bradley. How’s it going?”, Emma’s mother asked, her eyes filled with concern.

Rooster had obviously told them, what had happened. They hadn’t wasted a minute before getting here.

“It’s…ugh…”

He was at a loss for words and had to take a deep breath.

“It’s hard. We’re trying to hold it together, but it’s hard.”

Emma’s mother just nodded and pulled him into a hug. Rooster relaxed in her embrace.

“He’s one of the best active aviators. It’s hard to believe that he failed”, Rooster admitted, when they broke apart again.

“I’m sure that he did his best”, Emma’s mother said and patted his cheek.

Emma’s dad, at a loss for words too, patted Rooster’s back and walked past him to greet Nick.

“Hey little man, are you okay?”

Nick nodded and flew into his grandpa’s arms. Emma’s dad picked him up and walked back to the door.

“Say goodnight to your dad, little man.”

“Night daddy”, Nick said and let Rooster kiss him on the cheek.

“Good night, buddy. Just wait one minute, I’m gonna get mommy.”

Emma softly closed the bathroom door once Rooster was inside and walked to the front door to greet her parents.

“Hi Mom”, she said and wrapped her arms around her mother.

“Hi honey. Are you okay?”

Emma sniffed and let her mother brush a few tears away. She smiled sadly.

“I’m better than Natasha obviously, but not really fine. He was such a good friend. I can’t believe that he’s gone…”

Her mother hugged her again and kissed her cheek.

“Would you please pass on our deepest condolences to Natasha?”

“Yes, of course. Thank you for watching Nick.”

Emma kissed her little boy on the forehead and the cheek.

“Behave my love, okay? Be good to your grandparents. Goodnight.”

“Night mommy”, Nick yawned.

“Goodnight darling”, Emma’s dad said while carrying Nick to the car.

Emma waved goodbye and waited until the car left the driveway. Then, she walked back inside and started to clean the table and kitchen.

The night was rough to say the least. Rooster and Emma spent it in the guest bedroom with Lynn’s bassinet right next to the bed. Lynn was usually an easy-going baby, but she seemed to sense that something was off. She woke up several times, fussing around and refusing to go back to sleep. Rooster and Emma took turns taking care of Lynn and slept maybe three hours total. At least they weren’t out of practice, because Nick was only one year old and a rather fussy baby.

Upstairs, Natasha tossed and turned, crying and sobbing. She didn’t sleep for a minute. She was exhausted from all the crying and the pain she felt, but she couldn’t fall asleep. She had a framed picture of him on her nightstand that she kept staring at all night. It was from the newborn photoshoot they’d done with Lynn the week before he had to leave for Afghanistan. He looked directly into the camera, one of his signature “movie star smiles” on his face. Lynn was draped over his bare shoulder, sleeping. Natasha loved this photo. It captured her two favorite human beings beautifully and whenever she looked at it, she felt so proud and happy that they belonged to her. That that man was her husband, and that baby was her daughter. Tonight, looking at it was painful and broke her heart over and over again.

“Please come home”, she whispered, wiping some of the tears off her face.

It was ridiculous, talking to the photo and it was even more ridiculous to ask him to come home. He was dead, he’d never come home again.

“Dear God, please let this be a nightmare”, she pleaded into the darkness, knowing that it was useless.

She’d lost him to his duty. His daughter had lost him to his duty. And for the first time in her life, she hated the Navy.

#hannix #hangman x phoenix #jake hangman seresin #natasha phoenix trace #top gun maverick #writing #fanfiction

[pkmntrainersquid]

🖊️

Squid scrambled for anything to defend himself, throwing whatever came to hand. A hammer, a power tool battery, a flowerpot.

Her hand grabbed a pokéball as he fell back, a completed commission for a client's politoed. The blade makes impact and disappears.

The incendiary within the ball burns Squid's hand as the capture holds.

#ask game response

[f0urcake]

I killed someone today. I did it for you.

Still from Gone Girl (2014) dir. David Fincher  

Is this what people mean when they say they would kill for love? I wonder as I tower over this lifeless body, satisfaction, and horror painted across my face.

But it is okay.

I did it for you.

Because you once told me you hated it when I cried during movies. Said I was dramatic. So, I woke up in the middle of the night while you were asleep, and I went into the dark. I looked for the girl who cried seeing others cry and I killed that part of me. Took both my hands and strangled her until her face turned purple and her eyes threatened to pop out of their sockets. I buried whatever part of me felt connected to other people, so connected that she would cry when others were in pain.

I killed her for you. Now can you love me?

And then you said my plants annoyed you. Said you did not like having so many greens inside the house. So, I waited for you to go to work, and I smashed all the flowerpots with a hammer. And I fed the leaves and the petals to our dog. I killed whatever part of me wanted to nurture a living thing. For you, I took shards of the broken pot and buried it deep within her chest and smiled as the scarlet dripped from her body onto the soil.

I killed her for you. Now can you love me?

And then you told me I was suffocating, I loved you so much. I cared too much. I needed you very much. So, I listened and waited for you to drop my hand. and then I balled them into fists and threw a punch at my stomach. At my face. Once. Twice. Thrice. Until purples and blues graced my features, and I was coughing up blood. Is this better? this lifeless body— can you love it? Now that I have killed every part of me you hate and every part of me, I love, can you?

Can you?

Because I killed her for you.

Is this what people mean when they say they would kill for love? To make themselves small and bury themselves six feet under? To decay into a corpse— a carcass of what once was.

[justanothersimp21]

hellloooooo, i have a mighty request! Donna Beneviento and reader kissing without the veil for the first time!

Yesss. Another Donna request!

I rewrote this like 8 times. I was pretty upset recently and writing something soft was a challenge for me. I hope you enjoy it.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You hummed softly as you watered multiple plants in a straight line using a watering can. The sun was close to setting so you didn’t worry about possibly overheating and passing out like last time.

As you went down the row of plants slowly, a warm hand gently enclosed around your shoulder, pretty much announcing who was right behind you.

You smiled and stopped watering to turn around.

As soon as you turn around, you’re greeted with Donna wearing her usual veil and dress. To your surprise, Angie wasn’t with her. With a quick check of your surroundings, you realize that Angie was nowhere in sight, most likely still inside the house.

“Good evening,” You dipped your head in greeting, a small smile on your face which grew into a full grin when Donna lifted her right hand and waved at you almost shyly in reply.

She must be checking your progress on the garden.

You gestured to the plants, “I’m almost done watering them. Most of them are in full bloom.”

Donna nodded her head curtly making you turn around to finish your watering.

There was a nice comfortable silence as you gave the flowers and plants a nice drink with Donna following closely beside you.

“They’re beautiful,” You paused as you heard her slightly raspy voice.

You side glanced her, noticing she was bowing her head as if trying to cover her facial expression despite the fact that she had the veil on. Turning your attention back on the flowers in front of you both, you murmur an agreement, “Yes, they are.”

She took a deep breath before she whispered something that made you freeze all together.

“…Almost as beautiful as you.”

What?

Your heart hammered in your chest as her words continuously repeated in your head, a deep blush rose on your cheeks.

Too astonished, you didn’t even realize you were still watering one of the flowers, the watering can aimed downwards, the water beginning to overflow from the flowerpot and splash at your feet.

Donna took ahold of the watering can in your hand, preventing you from getting anymore water anywhere.

The movement caused you to snap out of your frozen state.

You finally turned your whole body to the left to face her, opening your mouth to speak.

She managed to talk before you did though, her head bowed, “I’m sorry…That was inappropriate of me.”

You notice her grip on the watering can was extra tight and her voice was a little bit more breathy than normal.

It must’ve taken a lot of courage for her to compliment you and you made it worse by not responding quick enough.

“I didn’t think it was inappropriate,” You mutter softly, “I appreciate the compliment.”

You watched as she slowly lifted her head, feeling her eye you through the veil, “Really?”

You did not miss the hopeful tone in her voice. You smiled softly at her, confirming, “Really.”

Her grip on the watering can loosened slightly and you had a feeling that she was lightly smiling as well.

If she’s being brave then I will too.

“You’re beautiful too,” You try to state as earnestly as you could.

A loud thump made you flinch lightly, your gaze flickered to the ground to notice that she had dropped the watering can in shock.

Her hands shook lightly before she clasped them together and shuffled her feet in a nervous manner.

Her response made you frown, “…No, I’m not.”

She sounded so defeated…broken.

“You’ve never seen my face,” She whispered out delicately, “How can you possibly call me beautiful?”

“You’re right— I’ve never seen your face,” You murmured before talking two steps forward so that you were closer to her but not too close enough to invade her personal space, “Beauty comes in many forms though. You’ve been so softhearted and kind to me, how can I not see you as anything but beautiful?”

“If you saw my face then you’d change your mind,” There was a small shake in her voice.

You stared straight at her veil, looking where her eyes would be, “I sincerely doubt that.”

To your shock, Donna raised her right hand and lifted the veil, taking it off and exposing her face to you.

The veil remained clutched in her hand as your breath got caught in your throat. You took in her facial features slowly.

There was a pulsating scar where her right eye should be, several medium sized veins surrounding it.

Despite that, she had fair skin and you take notice that her other eye— was perfectly normal. It was a very dark shade of brown, almost black.

It was too glossy to be normal. She was definitely holding back tears as she watched you observe her face.

Your gaze trailed down to her nose and lips, letting it linger before acknowledging her soft jawline.

You didn’t understand.

She’s absolutely gorgeous.

“You see?” You were snapped out of your thoughts when Donna husked out the words almost bitterly, “I’m not beautiful.”

Tears streamed down her good eye as she stared at you dead-on. You frowned and spoke up, “Donna-”

“I’m a monster,” There was a noticeable whimper in her voice as she interrupted you, “A freak.”

Your heart broke at the sight of her.

Donna let out a little sob and opened her mouth to speak again, “I’m-”

You took two steps forward and pulled her into your body, hugging her tightly, coaxing her into hugging you back.

Her body went stiff as soon as you made contact but after a moment of pause, she wrapped her own arms around your neck desperately. Her face nuzzled into the crook of your neck as more quiet sobs left her.

You continued to hold her protectively, rubbing her back up and down to try to calm her down.

“You are stunning, inside and out,” You whispered into her ear, “Don’t let anyone else tell you different.”

Her shoulders wracked a bit more as she heard your reassuring words, clinging onto you as if you were the only thing keeping her grounded.

It hurt you to know that she was so deep into her own insecurities that she couldn’t see just how gorgeous she truly is.

After a few minutes, her cries finally subsided.

When you tried to pull away to talk to her, her grip around your neck tightened, forcing you to stay in place.

The softest plead was murmured into your neck, “Don’t go. Please.”

This definitely isn’t the first time she’s told someone this. Maybe the person she’s uttered the same words to was the reason why she is so insecure in the first place.

The thought of that made you so angry yet you swallowed your anger and raised your hand, combing it through her dark tresses, “I won’t. I’m here to stay— if you let me?”

Donna nodded her head, her face brushing against your neck, “Yes.”

You placed a gentle kiss on top of her head as she got comfortable against you again.

You heard a soft gasp, Donna pulling away from you with a surprised look on her face, cheeks lightly pink.

Her eye was slightly puffy from crying, so many emotions dancing within her iris as she stared back at you.

You sent her a warm smile yet was unsure if you crossed a line, you quickly start to apologize, “I’m sor-”

“I liked it,” She interrupted, her cheeks turning a darker shade of pink at her own confession, eye peering nervously off to the side.

Her confession had given you a burst of confidence.

Taking one step forward, you boldly yet gently place your hands on her hips. You carefully watch her reaction, making sure she was completely fine with it.

When you get a shy smile in response to your action, you softly pull her into your front.

With no space in between your bodies, you gently lift your right hand and cup her cheek. Donna’s breathing picked up slightly as she leaned into your touch, looking up at you with an intense look in her eye.

Your gaze flickered from her eye to her soft lips.

You leaned downwards slowly, aiming to capture her lips with yours. You searched her gaze, trying to find a hint of discomfort.

When you found none, you leaned forward, feeling her breath on your lips. Now you were an inch away. You made sure to give her plenty of time to pull away if she so wished.

To your pleasant surprise, she closed her eye and leaned forward as well, sealing the kiss. Her hands reaching up to wrap around your neck.

You quickly closed your eyes and started to caress her cheek as you kissed each other softly.

You heard your own heartbeat roaring through your ears as adrenaline rushed through your veins.

You wonder if she can hear your heartbeat too.

Feeling Donna smile into the kiss, your hand on her waist tries to pull her impossibly closer into you.

The kiss was everything you wanted it to be and more.

It was gentle, reassuring, and comfortable.

When air became a problem, you pulled away breathlessly but made sure to keep the doll maker close to you.

When you reopened your eyes, you noticed Donna still had her eye closed, a soft smile on her face. You grinned at the sight of her looking so at peace.

Smiling, you pressed your forehead gently against hers, closing your eyes once again, getting lost in the feeling of just having her near you.

Donna’s grip around your neck tightened ever so slightly as you pressed the softest of a kiss on her scarred eye.

You knew she still had a long ways to go to tackle her insecurities. Especially one that runs deep within her but she won’t face it alone.

You’ll be by her side.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

#donna beneviento #donna beneviento x reader #donna beneviento x you #we’re all soft for donna #hurt/comfort #fluff #first kiss #requested #resident evil village #re8

[vannahfanfics]

The Romance Thing

Word Count: 2130

Fluff, Romance, Coffee Shop AU, Humor

Summary: Takanobu has been visiting the same coffee shop after work every day. Recently, they've gotten a new barista. And that handsome barista is writing cheesy pick-up lines on Takanobu's coffee cups.

Good evening, everyone! Here is my contribution to the @hqrandomizerbb​! I found both the pairing and the prompt really cute, so I hope you all enjoy!

Takanobu hovered nervously outside the door to the coffee shop, just pouting at his slightly sweaty reflection in the glass of the fancy revolving door. He’d take a few steps toward it, pause, and then turn around to go right back to sulking by the daisies growing in the flowerpots perched on the windowsill. Every time someone exited, they’d give him funny looks; once people saw his hulking frame looming in the window, they’d skirt away to hastily find another table, leaving the right side of the café suspiciously empty. But Takanobu paid no mind, too busy focusing on the counter—more specifically, the handsome blond barista behind it. 

This was Takanobu’s favorite café. He always stopped by in the early evenings after work to get an iced coffee. It helped finally cool his body down from laboring in the sun all day, and the calm, quiet atmosphere did good to banish the pounding of hammers and the thundering of jackhammers that was still echoing in his head though he’d long since left the construction site. He’d been going there ever since he got his job. The barista had been working there for only a few short weeks, and at first, Takanobu didn’t take much notice. It was even a few days before he spied the nametag that read “Yūji Terushima” in nice, neat print. Honestly, Takanobu didn’t really think much of the new hire aside from he made a damn good iced coffee. 

That is until Yūji wrote a cheesy pick-up line on Takanobu’s coffee cup.

Takanobu had thought he’d fallen asleep and strayed into some kind of confusing dream when it had happened. He had just stood there slack-jawed and gaping at the sentence written in nice, swirly script. “Are you a parking ticket? Because you’ve got FINE written all over you.” There were even little hearts drawn around his name. Takanobu had blinked at the cup, then looked up at Yūji, who’d thrown him a suave smirk and a wink. And then, of course, Takanobu did the sensible thing—he hauled ass. He even left the coffee behind. He couldn’t drink it, not with that pick-up line taunting him. 

After stewing on it for a while, he figured that it was just some sort of joke that he didn’t. There was no sense in switching coffee houses over some harmless pick-up line, right? It certainly wouldn’t happen again. 

Except it did. 

“We got a new special on the menu today—me ‘n u!” 

“I’m sorry, I gotta call the cops. You stole my heart!” 

“I think there’s something wrong with my phone. Your number’s not in it!” 

“Are you a broom? Because you’ve swept me off my feet!” 

And every time, Takanobu would turn beet red and look at Yūji like a deer caught in headlights. And every time, Yūji would flash him a grin that made his heart play his ribs like bongo drums. And every time, Takanobu found himself lingering a little longer before running off. Long enough to begin to appreciate how actually drop-dead gorgeous the young man was—silky blond hair styled in an undercut that showed off dark brown roots, perfect white teeth that gleamed in the soft light of the fluorescents, warm brown eyes that lingered on Takanobu as he walked around the café. 

As much as the cheesy pick-up lines caught Takanobu off-guard… He was kind of beginning to like being caught off-guard. 

Enough to linger outside the café trying to work up the courage to actually stay after the pick-up line. The problem was that now he was a little too chicken to even go get the pick-up line. What if he didn’t even get a pick-up line this time? He couldn’t blame Yūji for giving up after Takanobu had bolted the last several times. Takanobu groaned and scratched anxiously at the base of his neck while he lumbered back to the front door. He peered through the glass—

and he almost passed out when Yūji smiled at him from behind the bar. 

Then he hustled through the door so fast that he knocked over the plant that was standing next to the coat rack. He cursed as soil spilled everywhere, and he frantically glanced back at the counter to see Yūji hiding a smirk behind his hand. Takanobu squatted down to feverishly scoop the soil back into the pot, then clumsily righted it. He hastily wiped as much of the soil as he could off on his jeans—they were already stained with sand and other dusts from the construction site—and turned around. Yūji was working with a customer, giving Takanobu the moment he needed to exhale a shaky breath and collect himself. 

Be cool. He must like you, right? Just go up there and… don’t… chicken out… 

Yeah, he liked Yūji, but he was so damn bad at the romance thing. 

Takanobu ran a hand over his hair and exhaled again before he got in line. He started practicing greetings in his head, but before he could decide if he wanted to say “Good afternoon,” or “Good evening,” the pretty redhead in front of him realized that she would not be getting the barista’s number and grumpily shuffled off to go wait for her latte. And then Takanobu was standing there in front of him, and he balked.

“Well, howdy, stranger,” Yūji grinned when he turned around and was greeted with the sight of Takanobu trying to disappear right through the floor. “I haven’t seen you in a few days.” 

“Y-yeah,” Takanobu stammered when his tongue finally decided to work. “I, um… I was out of town.” 

“Oh, yeah?” Yūji grinned. Takanobu’s heart rate spiked as he leaned forward on the counter; the sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up around his elbows, and it was sinful how good his forearms looked. “I thought I mighta scared ya off, stud.” 

Studstudstudstudstud, the word echoed in Takanobu’s head. 

“Sc-scared me off?” 

“Well, considering you took off like an Olympic sprinter every time I handed ya yer coffee…” he smirked, eyebrow creeping up his forehead. Takanobu felt the blush crawling up his neck, and he tugged nervously at his tee-shirt. Yūji looked him up and down, and when his smirk widened, it took everything in Takanobu’s body to fight that nearly unquashable urge to spring away like a deer leaping across the highway. 

“R-right… Err…” Takanobu stammered and tugged awkwardly at his ear. Ugh, he couldn’t even look at him right now! His smoldering smirk was just setting Takanobu on fire, making him burn from the tips of his toes to the crown of his head. “I, um…” 

“First time someone’s ever written pick-up lines one yer coffee cups?” Yūji teased. 

Takanobu looked down at his feet while a bashful, lopsided smile bloomed on his lips. Well, at least he had progressed past freaking out and running out. He was beginning to lament how much money he had spent on wasted coffee. And, of course, not staying long enough to actually talk to the handsome man that was flirting with him. He forced himself to lift his head and meet his eyes, though it was only for a few seconds and then he was back to blushing at the counter. 

“Y-yeah, um… I-I’m not used to being flirted with in general, actually.” 

“What? But you’re a catch!” Yūji cried. When Takanobu looked up at him in surprise, Yūji was staring at him with wide, owlish eyes. Yūji picked up a pen and began using the end of it to draw abstract patterns in the smooth surface of the counter. “I mean, look at you! Tall, dark, and handsome! Who wouldn’t want you?!” 

Takanobu’s skin turned even darker, and he reached up to nervously play with the hair at the back of his neck. Sure, he tanned well working on the construction site, but he’d never thought much about it. It was an… attractive factor? He wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that. He also wasn’t quite sure what to think about the fact that Yūji found it an attractive factor. 

Talking. He needed to keep talking. He wanted to keep talking, yes. Words. What were words?

He managed to fill the silence with a nervous laugh before he just mumbled a shy, “Yeah.” 

“Awww, look at you,” Yūji crooned. “Don’t even know how handsome ya are.” When Takanobu hid his bright red face behind his hand, the barista barked out a laugh. “I gotta say, I’m impressed! You haven’t bolted yet!” 

Still hiding his face, Takanobu muttered, “Well, I wanted to stick around this time to um… um…” 

“Ummmmm?” Takanobu could tell that Yūji knew exactly what he wanted, but he was quite enjoying flustering Takanobu, apparently, and wanted to do it some more. 

“I, umm… I wanted to stick around to, um… actually talk to you. Because I, um, I like your pick-up lines,” Takanobu finally managed to say. 

“Oh, thank goodness for that,” Yūji smirked. He slid the pen behind his ear and leaned his cheek in his hand, Takanobu’s heart stopped. “I was beginning to feel like I had lost my touch!” He then seemed to process what Takanobu had actually said, and a cheeky grin pulled onto his lips. “...So, you like the pick-up lines, eh?” 

Talking. We’re talking. This isn’t so bad. Takanobu thought with an eensy smile. He played with the little fringe of ribbon tied around the tip jar as he uttered a quiet, “Yeah. A-a-actually… I’ve got one for you.” 

Yūji straightened up, the smirk on his lips turning into an absolutely elated grin. Takanobu wasn’t sure if it was because he was really excited that he was being given a pick-up line or if he was extremely amused; either way, Takanobu took it as a good sign. He cleared his throat, rubbed his hands on his jeans, and then looked up at Yūji with a nervous cinch in his eyebrows. 

“A-a-are you an earthquake? B-because, uh, y-you rock my world,” Takanobu slowly bit out. The words came out awkward and disjointed, but at least he got them out. He immediately felt like an idiot, though, and he hid his face in both his hands this time. He couldn’t help but crack his fingers apart to peer at Yūji when he began to chuckle. 

“Gotta say, that is a cheesy one,” Yūji snickered. Takanobu momentarily panicked, thinking that maybe his hours of looking up pick-up lines had led him to the wrong one. However, Yūji was looking at him like he’d just stolen the moon from the sky and held it out to him. Eyes shining, smile dreamy, smirk roguish. Hell, it made Takanobu feel like stealing the moon and holding it out to him if he would just keep looking at him like that. 

“Hey, ya know what?” Yūji said suddenly, straightening up. Takanobu was so shocked by the sudden shift in the conversation that he dropped his hands. “My phone is still having that problem. I was wondering if you could help me with that?” 

Takanobu was about to agree, but he stopped in the middle of saying it. When Yūji looked quizzically at him, Takanobu flushed and admitted, “I’m… kind of going to miss the pick-up lines.” 

“Tell ya what, stud,” Yūji said with a wink. “Gimme that number and I’ll text ya new one every day.” 

“O-oh, there’s gonna be an every day?” 

“If you want there to a be,” Yūji grinned. His tongue flicked out to lick his front two teeth, and Takanobu almost fainted on the spot. He managed to avoid losing consciousness so he could grab a napkin. Instead of handing him the pen, Yūji leaned forward and raised his eyebrows meaningfully. Takanobu swallowed thickly, feeling like his tongue immediately swelled up to fill his whole mouth, and then reached out to shakily pluck the pen from behind Yūji’s ear. He scrawled his number down, and when he looked back up, Yūji was smugly waiting for him to slip the pen back behind his ear. Takanobu did so with a shy smile. 

Damn, Yūji even made taking the napkin from him breathtakingly sexy. 

“All right, then,” Yūji smiled charmingly as he straightened up. “You will get a pick-up line tomorrow morning.” 

“Tomorrow morning?” 

“Yeah, because I’ll see you when I get off, right?” Yūji chuckled, throwing him another wink. 

“D-definitely!” Takanobu nodded so hard that it was a wonder his head didn’t fall right off. Yūji laughed, and Takanobu felt himself go weak in the knees, it was such a lovely laugh. “I get off in thirty minutes, actually. You want your usual while you wait?” 

Takanobu smiled sweetly back at him. Huh. Maybe he could do this romance thing after all. 

“Yeah. Yeah, that would be great.”

#aoteru #aone x terushima #terushima x aone #terushima yuuji #yuuji terushima #aone takanobu #takanobu aone #haikyuu #haikyuu!!

[wolvesandpetals]

Playing House: Part 2: Loki x Sylvie Fanfiction (Rated: T, Humor/Romance).

Part 1 here. Masterlist of Sylki fanfictions here. This chapter mostly fills in the gaps and acts as a backstory, providing some answers. Sylki hijinks in next chapter!

---

Sylvie wakes up the next morning with the sunrays lighting up the room through the windows. It's so different from the life she has always known- hiding in the shadows, endlessly on the run.

She has spent her entire life waking up in unfamiliar places. Yet, this feels different. This feels familiar, almost mundane. Even though some unknown dangerous entity has trapped them here, it feels... safe.

[[MORE]]

And she swears it has nothing to do with the fact that his arm is wrapped around her waist, and how it makes her feel protected. Nothing at all.

This is what her dreams were made of- a home, a person to wake up next to every day, a sense of serenity instead of the ever present death and despair. And now she has it all.

She shifts a little, earning groans of protest from him, and it makes her smile. The warmth radiating from his body makes her long to stay like this forever. Slowly and reluctantly, she pulls his arm off her body and places it on his chest, her smile widening as she watches him sleep. "Loki?"

He groans. "Please, mother. Can you awaken Thor first?"

She touches his shoulder gently. "Loki, it's morning."

"No, mother, princes do not wake up so early", he mumbles in his sleep.

She just cannot bring herself to force him awake. Not when he looks so happy.

---

His morning starts at 10 am. He picks up the newspaper that the delivery boy left on the porch. Apparently, it's 2021, there's a new president, and a new iPhone, whatever that is.

She makes breakfast. It's just milk and cereals, but it's the first meal they have both had at a kitchen table with someone akin to a loved one in a long, long time, and it feels good.

He picks up his phone, hoping to learn how to properly operate it, and goes through his contacts list. There are a lot of people that he does not remember meeting, mixed with people that he never wishes to meet again, but one name in particular makes him pause. "Thor's number is programmed in my phone."

Sylvie looks up in confusion, clueless why this is significant. "Alright?"

"I didn't know he even had a number." Loki explains. Maybe it's recent? Maybe that is the reason he did not know, and it's not because they have been at odds lately?

"Maybe it's not Thor?" Sylvie suggests. It is a different reality, after all. Everything may be just an illusion.

Loki takes in a deep breath, bracing himself for what he knows he has to do. There is only one way to find out.

---

There are exactly four rings before he hears the familiar voice on the other side of the line. "Hello, brother."

"Hello, brother." He clears his throat, trying to push down the emotions swelling in his chest. In reality, he last saw Thor the day he was captured by the TVA. Yet, it feels like a lifetime ago. "How have you been?"

"I've been well", Thor answers. There's noisy chatter in the background, like a restaurant or a bar, and what sounds like old 60s music. "How are you?"

"I am well too." Loki lies. "It is so good to speak to you. Umm, how are the Avengers?"

There's a brief pause on the other end. "The Avengers? You are enquiring about my friends? Are you not going to ask about mother and father?"

Loki forgets how to breathe. "M-mother and father?"

"Yes?" Loki can picture Thor rolling his eyes as he speaks. "Our mother and father? The people who have loved and adored us our entire lives? Rings a bell?"

The last time Loki met his parents, they were furious and disappointed with him for his betrayal of Asgard. Then New York happened, and he is sure those emotions were heightened.

The rest of it, he has only watched on the projector screen at the TVA and not experienced himself, but he heard his parents express how much he means to them, right before watching them die. After spending the last few months angry at them, and craving power that makes him superior to Thor, he realised in that one moment that none of it mattered. All he wanted was the life he once knew, the life back at Asgard, the one he can never return to.

It's a truly cunning being that has trapped him in a reality where these cruel events may not have happened. Trap a man in hell, and he will burn it to the ground, trying to find his way out. Trap him in his heaven, and he is forever imprisoned. This is an eternal prison indeed, because why would he ever want to leave?

"Mother and father?" Loki repeats, still in disbelief, and a little optimistic. "They are not dead?"

"What kind of sick question is that, brother?" There's the familiar irritation in Thor's voice. "Why would you even ask that?"

"I'm... I'm sorry. I just feel a little... disoriented."

"Is everything alright with you?" Thor pauses, hesitating before he asks the next question. "Are you having marital troubles? Is Sylvie alright?"

"You know Sylvie?"

"Of course I know your wife." There's genuine concern now. "You are scaring me, brother. Is this a trick?"

"No, no." Loki shakes his head for emphasis, even though Thor cannot see it. "Not a trick, brother. I am just happy to hear your voice."

The line goes dead. There's a flash of thunder, a loud bang in the backyard, and then a thunderous voice. "Loki?"

Loki rushes to the backyard. Sylvie follows him, ready to fight the intruder, if necessary. She finds a blonde man in 60s clothes, wielding the hammer that she knows too well.

Sylvie goes pale. She hasn't seen her brother in ages, and this isn't her brother. She has never met this man, never played with him, never turned him into a toad, and definitely never missed him. Yet, her heart aches at the sight of this stranger who is another version of him.

"Oh, hi, Sylvie." Thor smiles warmly at her, before it turns apologetic. He tugs at an ear. "Sorry about your flowerpots." He glances at the mess he has made- again- vowing to land on the street next time. He spots Loki standing in the background and gives him a slight nod. "Brother."

"Brother." Loki takes a step forward, resisting the urge to rush to his brother and embrace him tightly. Not long back, they were on opposite sides of the battle. All he wanted back then was to be equal to Thor.

All he wants now is to be brothers again.

"Thor?" Sylvie says his name carefully, like it's a word that can break this spell. "Is that really you?"

Thor feels the panic coming back. "Alright, what is the matter with you two? Are you on drugs?"

"Me? Drugs?" Loki scoffs indignantly. "You are the one who looks like you just spent a week at Woodstock."

Thor takes a brief moment to glance down at his outfit- courtesy of StarJerk- before returning his undivided attention to the couple that is acting extremely strange.

"Prove that you are not on drugs." He places the hammer on the ground, next to Loki's feet. "Here."

"You want me to lift Mjojonir?" Loki stares in confusion. "Are you insulting me?"

"You can't lift it, can you?"

His irritation grows. "Of course I can't lift it. I've never been able to lift it."

"Loki... You... We've... Do you not remember the time we..." Thor stares at him, dumbfounded. "Do you really not remember that you too can wield Mjojonir?" Then another thought occurs to him, one which seems more likely. "Wait, is this another elaborate scheme of yours to steal Mjojonir?"

Sylvie takes in a deep breath, pushing down all the complicated emotions that have found their way into the spotlight since she met the mirror image of her brother. Right now, she is trapped in a reality that is not of her choosing, by an entity that is not known to her, and she cannot allow herself to get lost in the illusion. The man in front of her is merely an opportunity, one which she has to seize. "Alright, then. Come in already, brother." She tilts her head towards the door, gesturing at the brothers to come inside.

"Brother?" Loki mumbles under his breath.

Sylvie shrugs. "Well, he is your brother, and I am your wife, right?"

---

Thor walks through the kitchen and into the living room like he knows the place extremely well. He sits down on the couch- in the spot that Loki already considers his own spot, Loki notes with annoyance - and examines a cushion. "I see you replaced these after the mishap with the gun."

Loki and Sylvie exchange a look. They have no idea what he is talking about, but if they know themselves at all, they were definitely the ones responsible for the incident.

"Here, have a drink." Sylvie offers him a coffee mug filled with whiskey on the rocks. When Thor reaches for it, she covers his hand with hers.

Loki feels that ever familiar feeling that he has felt anytime something he wanted has gone to Thor instead. It's not like Sylvie is his actual wife, and he has any right to be jealous. But the mere sight of Sylvie's hand covering Thor's is a source of extreme irritation for him. "What are you doing?"

Sylvie places the finger of her free hand on her lips, asking him to be quiet. She returns her attention to Thor. There's a flash of green, travelling from her hand, to Thor's, and rising up his arm, to his heart. "Oh, the gun. That was something. Remember the day we met?"

Loki finally realizes what is happening. "Are you enchanting my brother?" He whispers.

Sylvie rolls her eyes, whispering back at him. "Obviously."

"You can't enchant my brother!" He hisses. "He's my brother!"

"And you've done worse to him." She points out. "We need to know what he knows."

Loki sighs, finally giving in semi-reluctantly.

"You know how we met." Thor answers, confused, and oblivious to the conversation between his brother and his wife.

"I know. But let's reminisce." Sylvie keeps her tone calm and cheerful. "Tell me about the good old times."

"It wasn't good." Thor reminds her. "You broke Jane's telescope."

"Right. Good ol' Jane." She fakes a laugh, before turning to Loki. "Jane?"

"The human he's dating." He supplies.

"Human?"

He gives her a sad nod.

"And what is my name, my full name?"

"Sylvie Lushton, from Broxton, Oklahoma. You took my brother's name only to escape the internet fame under yours. Clever." It is clear from the way he speaks that he thinks highly of her.

Loki and Sylvie exchange another look. A few days back, this is when he would have asked about Mjojonir, what the deal is with him apparently being able to wield it. But now, he can think of only one thing, because there is only one thing that actually matters. "Ask him about my parents."

"And your parents? Where are they now?"

"At New Asgard, of course." Thor tells her like it's obvious. "The same place they were the last time you visited."

Sylvie lets go of his hands abruptly. The thought that she probably has a set of parents at Oklahoma, and a version of Odin and Frigga at New Asgard is too overwhelming. She leans back against the sofa, trying to catch her breath.

Thor blinks, trying to adjust to the fact that he is back at Sylvie and Loki's living room instead of his bed chamber at Asgard. "Did you just-?" Realizing what happened, he stares at Sylvie in shock. "All the years, and you have never once tried to enchant me, not even when Loki begged you. You have always been a loyal friend to me." His voice grows resolute, like that of a man on a mission. "Tell me this instant what is going on with you two. I demand answers."

"I'm sorry." Sylvie tells him sincerely. She knows now that this man is not the one responsible for the illusion. His memories are real, at least to him. He is not a danger to them

Loki smiles sadly. "You wouldn't believe us even if we told you."

Thor crosses his arms in front of his chest and leans back against the cushions, making it clear that he is not going anywhere until he is satisfied. "I travel through space with a talking racoon and a grunting hormonal tree. Try me."

"Okay. We are from a different reality. Two different realities actually." Loki begins his Loki lesson. "I was supposed to be immortalized in the hearts of Asgardians after meeting a heroic end in glorious battle with Thanos. Sylvie was taken from Asgard when she was merely a child. There is this evil organization called the TVA. Time variance authority. We weren't supposed to exist, yet we existed. So these pathetic, low-life bureaucrats arrested us. We were trying to find the man in charge. We were so close. Then we found ourselves here abruptly."

Thor just stares at them, utterly confused.

"You're rubbish at this." Sylvie comments, before taking over the storytelling duty. "Loki and I are not who you think we are. We are from a different reality. Your memories are not real to us. They never happened to us. I have never met you. And we are most definitely not married."

"Ouch." Loki places a heart over his chest to express his hurt. Sylvie grins at him.

Thor tries his best to process this wild tale. "Let me get this straight. You're telling me that my brother, my only brother-"

"Adopted." Loki interrupts with the quip. He can't stop himself.

"- My annoying brother", Thor continues, "is supposed to be dead? And you? You're from Asgard?"

"I'm him, actually." Sylve explains. "Well, not him, another version of him, the superior one. I'm Sylvie Laufeydottir." She half smiles at Thor.

Thor stares at Sylvie, then at Loki, then back at Sylvie again. "Are you sure you're not under the influence of any narcotics?"

"Yes!" Loki reaffirms, more exasperated by the minute.

"Are you sure I'm not under the influence of any narcotics?" Thor wonders.

"Not really." Loki admits.

"But I assure you, what we are saying is the truth." Sylvie looks him in the eyes, hoping he can see the honesty in hers. "This life, this house, we have only known it for a day."

Thor is quiet for a long while. When he speaks again, his voice is more sympathetic, and less skeptical. "Would you like to know more? About your past, I mean? The one I know?"

"Of course." Sylvie answers immediately. Part of it is to gather information so that they can decide how to get out.

There's another part of her that really wants to know what a happy life looks like for her. She can't resist the temptation to sneak a peak down the rabbit hole.

Thor takes a sip from the mug. The ice has melted by now, but the drink is cold enough. Taking in a deep breath, he begins. "I met you six years back at London. You were filming something for YouTube, and you accidentally broke Jane's telescope. You were gracious enough to offer to buy her a new one. But she wanted nothing to do with you." He adds, as an afterthought, to lessen the blow. "It's nothing personal, Jane just doesn't really like influencers. You gave me your number, in case she changed her mind."

"A while later, Loki stole my jacket. Well, borrowed, in his words, but I haven't seen it since that day, so you be the judge. Where is it, by the way?"

Loki rolls his eyes. "Isn't it clear that I do not know?"

"Right." Thor nods. All of this is still bizzare to him, but he's willing to be open to the possibility. "Anyways, Loki found the little card with your number in the pocket, and he called you up. You hung up on him within a minute. That's your version of the story, anyway. Loki swears you talked to him before you hung up."

"And then my brother, ever so proud of himself, took that personally. He called you back to tell you off." He puts on his best Loki imitation. "I'm Loki, the prince of Asgard, the God of mischief, and you must treat me with respect, or I will use my hairgel to slick your hair back too. Bla bla bla." He grins when he notices Loki glaring at him, and his grin grows wider at the next part. He looks at Sylvie with a smile that conveys how proud he is of her. "You hung up on him again."

"He Googled you up and showed up at your doorstep the next week, ready to turn your clothes into snakes and show you your place. But the moment you opened the door, my brother was putty in your hands. Seriously, he wouldn't shut up about you for weeks."

"Instead of snakes, he gave you flowers. He serenaded you, actually. What was the song, brother? When she sleeps- no, wait." Thor hums the tune, trying to remember the words. "That's it! When she sings, she sings come home." He laughs, like he always does when he imagines Loki acting like a lovestruck fool. "I can't believe you didn't get a restraining order on him. He kept sending you flowers every day. Until you finally decided to go out with him. You guys hit it off right away. Your parents liked him. I don't know why." This earns him another glare from Loki and results in another grin. "Our parents liked you. It was all surprisingly easy."

"Loki proposed during the Convergence. He was so nervous about it. It was fun to watch him squirm."

"You had a June wedding. You moved here after a few months. And you've been happily married since."

It's almost impossible for either of them to imagine a world where they have sworn to spend eternity with another person.

But it's not impossible at all, not anymore, not when they have found each other. Sylvie tries not to dwell on this for long.

Another thought occupies her instead. If she is not an Asgardian princess in this reality... "How do I have my powers?"

Thor shrugs. "How does anyone have their powers? How do the Avengers have their powers?"

They still do not know who did this, but now they have an idea about what was done to them.

If he's being honest with himself, a reality where he and Sylvie both exist together, where his parents are alive, and Thor doesn't hate him, is not the worst thing in the world. It is almost like a scene from his dreams, depicting his heart's desires.

"Thank you." Sylvie sincerely tells Thor. "Now we need to find a way out."

#loki x sylvie #fanfiction #loki disney+ #sylki #sylvie x loki #pro sylki #loki #fanfic #sylki fanfic

[callmeblake]

The tags i use for frank’s tattoos

General:  frank's tattoos 

Specific (used when you can see the tattoo well or it’s the only picture of it I’ve found):

scorpion tattoo 

halloween knuckle tattoo

chest tattoo

praying hands tattoo

forget me not tattoo

eagle tattoo

snake tattoo (he has more than one)

new rose tattoos (though it’s hardly new now)

let love in tattoo

jinx removing tattoo

bookworm tattoo

wolf tattoo

frankenstein tattoo

smiley balloon tattoo

bomb tattoo

heart knife tattoo

tasmanian devil tattoo

anchor tattoo

skull and crossbones tattoo

black flag tattoo

bow and arrows tattoo

barbed wire tattoo

bloody tooth tattoo

search and destroy tattoo

guns tattoo

moustache finger tattoo

grandfather tattoo

grandmothers tattoo

skeleton crew tattoo

tombstone tattoo

our lady of sorrows tattoo

anvil tattoo

skull scorpion tattoo

keep the faith tattoo

jack o' lantern tattoo

snake skull tattoos

woman spiderweb tattoo

black flag tattoo

stars tattoo

bomb tattoo

vampire teeth tattoo

chainsaw tattoo

spider tattoo

forget me not tattoo

head tattoo

railroad spike tattoo

butt crack tattoo

vampire teeth tattoo

chainsaw tattoo

praying hands tattoo

hope flame tattoo

stomach birds tattoo

franksymbol tattoo

I am a graveyard tattoo

anvil and hammers tattoo

stomach barbed wire tattoo

etta cross tattoo

hand tattoo = palm tattoo of the parachutes symbol

panther tattoo

laurel leaf wreath tattoo

spider knee tattoo

freddy claw tattoo

misfits tattoo

skull with wings tattoo

bloodNUN tattoo

roman numerals tattoo

NJ lip tattoo

skull and crossbones tattoo

i wish I were a ghost tattoo

stitches tattoo

YNWA tattoo

revenge tattoo

heart pulse tattoo

HOWL tattoo

jamia heart hand tattoo

live each day as if it were your last tattoo

cold tattoo

anchor with heart tattoo

hopeless spiderweb tattoo

skeleton crew tattoo

bow and arrows tattoo

romantic broken heart tattoo

barbed wire heart tattoo

sacred heart tattoo

woman spiderweb tattoo

spiderweb mask tattoo my blood my strength tattoo

bleeding heart cross eye tattoo

grim reaper tattoo

nails tattoo = railroad spike tattoo

lost praying hands tattoo

macaroni tattoo

cheddar tattoo

nike kill 'em all tattoo

138 tattoo

roman numerals tattoo

boxer tattoo

pencey prep tattoo (I’ve come to realize this is actually a “New Jersey Pop Punk” tattoo but I am to lazy to fix it.)

skull with wings tattoo

M in a triangle tattoo

dragons feet tattoos (and doom and gloom toes)

chinese dragon tattoo (left foot only)

pig tattoo

thigh jesus

on the road again tattoo  (and whatever is under it)

back piece:

head tattoo

jack o' lantern tattoo

shoulder tattoos = snake skull tattoos

keep the faith tattoo

guns tattoo

cobra tattoo

storm cloud tattoo

chain tattoo

vampire globe tattoo

lois tattoo

hey jealousy tattoo

skate or die tattoo

pharoh’s horses tattoo

butt crack tattoo = skull with snake slithering though it

snake chasing sparrows tattoo

tombstone tattoo

no new friends tattoo

double devil heads tattoo

sheep tattoo

chicagorilla tattoo

start today gorilla tattoo

2791 tattoo

medusa tattoo

the rose on his elbow = rose elbow tattoo

the rose on his wrist = rose wrist tattoo

arm heart tattoo

wrist rose tattoo

boozey tattoo

spider in web tattoo

wu tang tattoo

lily tattoo

hard luck tattoo

speed skull tattoo

bart skull tattoo

gun tattoo (one of the guns in his elbow rose I realized later)

bat tattoo (two different ones)

flowerpot tattoo

boozey tattoo

heart shaped lock tattoo

grim reaper tattoo

so rad skull and crossbones tattoo (and the one above it)

california 2019 tattoo

nautical star tattoo

drip tattoo

barbed wire heart flame and cross tattoo

spear tattoo

millie tattoo

dragon leg tattoo

ant tattoo

mushroom tattoo

skull with drop of blood tattoo

butterfly tattoo

molotov cocktail tattoo

dunes logo tattoo

nyc tattoo

butt tattoo

swarm tattoo/fly tattoo

moon tattoo

man in hat tattoo

gigi tattoo

California 2019 tattoo

putting shit off tattoo

cheddar tattoo with X

devil tattoo

bat and skull tattoo

tiger tattoo

playboy bunny tattoo

#tattoo tag list #frank iero #frank's tattoos #tattoo list

[voidselfshipp]

Love Is Stored In The Shinee Rocks

Cw: cursing, violence and blood mention.

Ask to tag. Only Moots ok to rb. If blurry Open the image

Summary: after a rough mission, Ashton brings some shiny things to his shiny things loving girlfriend.

A/n: art made by me. DO NOT REPOST.

Taglist: @tex-treasures @malewifehenrycooldown

Jerico heard light cursing as the front Door opened, she was quietly cooking away while soft music played in the background.

Ashton closed the door behind him, leaving the hammer near the table once he got to the kitchen--jerico! Im back, I sure home whatever youre cooking there Will knock me the fuck out...

Jeri laughed loudly snorting, making the tired earth genasi smile--heh, sure thing Ashton. Go sit--

--yeah no, fuck that..-- said the man--im helping you, move Tiny, let me see watcha cooking

The shapeshifter moved a little bit so he could see what she was cooking.

There was one pot cooking some sort of noodles, and in a saute pan there was some sort of tomato sauce.

--Im cooking spaghetti with tomato sauce --said the shapeshifting warlock-- it has chili powder, oregano and garlic, this surely Will knock you "the fuck out"

-- even if it didnt it smells amazing!-- admitted Ashton-- Youve been working all day, let me handle this okay pipsqueak?

Jer looked at him concerned-- ashi are you sure--? You look pretty fucked up

--im alright, ill sit on the counter and Keep an eye on it..-- he sat on the Marble counter and every now and then eyes the food to make sure its cooking properly, While telling jerico about him and his Groups most recent adventure-- and then orym comes in doing this incredible fucking... six foot something jump and just impales the monster, Man you had to see It! It was fucking nuts!

Jeri laughed-- that does sound impressive ash!, and how did you get so uh..-- she tried to find the right word.

--fucked up? -- added the earth genasi.

--yeah...

The Man sighed-- well, i lunged at the bigger monster, got the crap beaten out of me, and just...yeah, the thing had some hands let me tell ya..-- jeri approached him-- oh for fucks sake... babe im okay--

--youre ripping at the seams, Ashton, let me heal you

--its fine besides FCG said he Will-- and so she kissed him, he lets out a yelp before he melts right in, wrapping his legs around her waist and cupping her cheeks.

Jeri caressed Ashton's cheeksbones, and slowly his wounds started to heal as strings of golden light wrapped around them like a warm blanket.

--well, if thats how youre gonna cure me..I might need to get the crap beaten out of me more often!

--Dont!-- said jer-- just...dont, 'sides the foods already done

--im quite comfy like this--he said hugging her neck.

--we have all night to cuddle togheter...

--Yeah... but I havent seen you since morning and I really really missed you~ -- flirted the earth genasi.

--Ashton Clayton, eat. Shower. Bed. Now

--Okay okay! No need to use the full name!-- he hopped off the table and helped serve the food.

They threw some thinly shredded cheese on the pasta and Ate.

Ashton has never taste this particular dish, quite simple but the spicyness of both the chili Powder and garlic burnt his mouth in a good way.

He Ate a Plate and a half, before he was full-- well fuck me! This dish fucking rocks! Babe you should Open a restaurant what the fuck!? What the fuck is up with that dish!

Jeris cheeks turn bright red as she looks away. Their flowerpot centerpiece bloomed with a red rose signaling she was both flattered and embarassed.

Ashton smiled and chuckled-- shower? I think youd like a squeaky clean me to cuddle with~

--Fine you flirt come on-- both go the the bathroom chamber, once un the tub full of warm water, jeri scrubbed off any dirt and/or dried blood on him, or other monster fluids.

-- thank you tiny...you pamper me way too fucking much

--well, ash, you do a lot of things too, you bring most of the money in, you help around the house even when youre crumbling down out of exhaustion, you deserve a good rest and pampering

He let out a chuckle under his breath and looked away, cheeks darkening with green blush.

-- youre my weak point, you know that right?

--i do, and I love you-- she kissed him for a brief moment before resuming her scrubbing.

Before bed, Ashton grabbed the heavy bag and put it on the bed-- while we were there I brought you some things-- he opened the black bag with red rope, jeri saw a bunch of color full and very shiny rocks, they floated up in the air with a red and blue aura, wich was ashtons gravity powers.

The rocks glinted almost ethereally when they catched the light of the room-- I know you like shiny things..and I thought these rocks might do the trick

--oh...Ashton I--she hugged him tightly as she could, he hugged back with a smile-- youre truly the greatest boyfriend ever

--well you are an amazing girlfriend, my lovely jerico, I think you deserve some pampering too, youre always looking out for my reckless dumbass, taking care of me when im sick, or when im hurt..youre just...so good to me and I try to repay you in kind..though I dont think ill ever finish repaying you...

Jeris eyes turn glossy and she kisses him again, they melt into eachothers embrace and quietly stand there for a moment.

They then, ordered the rocks somewhere nice, and laid down to bed-- yknow...of all the shiny things I love, this-- she tapped near the exposed geode like part of his head-- this is by far my favorite

--honestly Tiny, for you id rip that thing right off and give it to you, but I think thats my brain and I do really need that...even if I dont use it very often...

Jericos cheeks turn red and looks away, the lights dimmed off with only moonlight spilling into the room.

--i think you finally made me feel what being in love is-- admitted Ashton-- im in love with you, madly in love

Jer seems taken back by this, but smiles warmly and caresses his cheek-- well, ash, im also madly in love with you...

--fucking...awesome..-- he muttered before falling asleep.

He was out cold, and as soon as he started dreaming, his geode like brain thing splattered light all over the place in a dispersion of different colors, as if light was passing through a prism.

Jeri gasps in awe, and the light reflects into the rocks Ashton had gotten her, wich lights up the room even more.

She falls asleep looking at their shared room, deciding that yep, whatever shiny geode brain thing he had in his head, was by far, the one shiny thing she loved the most.

#cw cursing #tw cursing #cw violence mention #tw violence mention #cw blood mention #tw blood mention #cw impaling mention #tw impaling mention #ashton tag pending

[jordanstrophe]

Going Once, Going Twice, part 13

Peter finally getting nice things and fluff for once

CW: Pet whumpee, social anxiety, mention of past trauma, recovering from strangulation implied.  

Masterlist

Robert sat at the kitchen table surrounded by boxes. He held the letter in his hand, the other held his hair back as he stared. Lukar slipped into the kitchen, hoisting down another box into the pile with a grunt.

“That's the last for the living room.” He smiled. “Thank you.” Robert murmured. Lukar’s eyes darted down to the letter in his hands, he opened his mouth to say something, but decided it would be wiser to be silent. 

Robert slapped the letter shut, stuffing it into his coat pocket. “I’m taking Peter out today while the movers come. I don’t want them to frighten him, so I’ll just take him for a drive.” He said. “That sounds like a good plan. How’s he doing?” Lukar asked. 

“He’s... I don’t know. Sometimes he’s okay, then in a flash he’s not. He gets scared if I’m not around.” He glanced at the bedroom door where he was resting.

“Separation anxiety?” Lukar asked. “Oh yeah." Robert sighed, he didn’t even know the half of it. 

The door slowly creaked open, as Peter quietly slipped out. He looked like he just woken up, his neck still horribly bruised and black. He froze, startling himself when he glanced up realizing Lukar was there. Peter blinked up at him with a flinch, a hint of fear, as Lukar tried to give him a comforting harmless smile. He mindlessly wandered over to Robert and faceplanted right into his chest with a bump, as Robert chuckled, wrapping his arms around him, pulling his coat up around his shoulders. 

“Ready for that adventure?” Robert asked, trying to make it sound fun and exciting. Peter wordlessly nodded into his chest. “Oookkaay!” Robert cheered, turning him around and steering him out the door. He mouthed another thank you to Lukar as he passed, who nodded.

Robert drove down the street, passing endless shops and stores. He glanced around, trying to find someplace that looked fun, yet simple. Peter kept glancing between looking out the window, and looking up at Robert, just making sure he was still there and didn’t magically disappear.

“If anyplace looks fun, just let me know, okay? We’ll go anywhere you want.” He smiled. Robert thinks he may have heard a murmur of acknowledgment, but it could have also just been the tires humming. “Oh! How about this place! They have fun drinks there.” He smiled, turning into a parking lot. “No ice.” Peter murmured. “Yep! No ice.” He chuckled, giving his hair a ruffle as he helped him unbuckle the seat. Peter hated ice in any of his drinks, especially large ice cubes, as it “ruined” the flavor. 

Peter immediately latched onto his arm like a leech as soon as he opened the car door for him, walking him to the store entrance. He made sure to be there at a time with hardly any people. Robert held his arm almost as hard back, he wasn’t the only one who got a bit traumatized back at the pet party, having him constantly ripped from his grasp was terrifying. He was always paranoid it was going to happen again. 

The place was empty, aside from a very bored looking cashier leaning against her elbow. Peter slid behind Robert’s arm, looking up at him nervously. 

“It’s okay, just look at the pictures up there and tell me what you want. Anything you want.” He smiled. “Mmm.” Peter whimpered, glancing up at all the drinks and food. He stood there for a good long while, having to study every single thing on the entire menu, then back again incase he missed something. Robert glanced around tiredly, as Peter tensed up, realizing he was being a drag.

“Th-that one?” He nervously asked, tugging his sleeve while blindly pointing randomly, not even directly pointing at anything in particular.

“What one?” Robert squinted, trying to follow his finger. He let out an exhale when he realized what he was doing. He gave him a pat on the head before walking them up to the counter.

“Hi, can I get one of... Everything?” Robert smiled awkwardly.

“What?” The woman asked.

“What?!” Peter gasped, tugging his sleeve. 

“Is that what I actually pointed at?!” He cried out in guilt, viscously tugging his sleeve, almost pulling his jacket off. Robert shushed him, taking his arm back in yes. 

“No ice for the drinks please.” He smiled. 

“If you’re serious then it’s going to be a bit.” She said. 

“... Can we have the drinks now then?” He asked. 

The woman sighed, rubbing her temples. She grabbed a cup and filled it up, hardly anyone asks for no ice, so her instinct was to also grab a scoopful of ice. 

“NO!” Robert yelled, slamming the palm of his hand on the counter. “He HATES ice!” He hissed.  They both looked up at him, as he brushed his jacket off, chuckling nervously, clearing his throat. “S-sorry... I mean, no ice, please...”

“Is he your only child?” The woman asked, raising an eyebrow with a smirk. 

“Yeah, he is.” He smiled proudly, Peter looked up at him with a head tilt, a puzzled look on his face. Robert pulled a chair out for him, taking his chin and tilting his head up to get a look at his neck. “How do you feel? Holding up okay?” He asked. “I’m okay.” He mumbled, pulling his collar up to try and hide it. Robert sat across from him so he could take his hand. Guilt was hammered into his chest since that night, since he failed as a pare-... Master. Since he failed as a master. Who was he kidding, he never saw Peter as a Pet of all things. He though he almost never spoke, skittish and nervous all the time. But that wasn’t Peter's fault. It couldn’t be. He had to remind himself Peter had an owner before him, a horrible cruel one, but he never wanted to pry. It didn’t feel right, but curiosity ate him up sometimes. 

“Hey sweetheart...” Robert asked, as Peter glanced up at him expectantly. 

“Am I... Doing okay? Are you happy with me?” He asked. 

Peter’s eyes went wide, as he squeezed Robert’s hand back. Robert was almost too guilty to look him in the eyes. He knew he was doing the best he could, but he also felt like this whole adventure has been a mess since day one. He averted eye contact, until he finally hit some courage to look him in the face when he gave his answer. When he glanced over, to his surprise, Peter was sitting up unusually straight with posture, looking him dead in the eye with a small smile. 

“You’re doing great.” He smiled, giving him the sweetest expression to show he was genuine. “I know I’m a handful.” He smirked, covering half his face with a hand. 

“No! No you’re not a handful! I’m just... Terrified something’s going to happen to you.” He trailed off. “Something already happened to you though, hasn't t it?” He muttered, eyes falling down to his neck. 

“Master... You know I’m used to this, right?” He asked.

“What?” Robert breathed, eyes shooting open.

“I’m a Pet. I’m a rehomed Pet. I never usually talk about it because it feel inappropriate to talk about to my new master, but... What happened is nothing worse then what I’ve already been through.” He said, leaning his head on the palm of his hand. 

Robert knew that. He knew he had been through stuff like that before, but it didn’t make him any less horrified to hear it with his own ears. 

They both fell silent when endless trays of food was piled into the table. 

“I hope you have cash for all this...” The woman smirked as she walked passed. “Yeah yeah, I’ll even give you a tip.” He chuckled, turning his attention back to Peter, who was happily sipping in a drink. 

“Are you excited for the new place?” He asked, trying to get a nice happy topic. 

“Yes, if you get your own room.” He gave him a mischievous smirk. 

“Oh rub it in will ya!” Robert laughed. 

It was unusual to have this much of a normal conversation with him. It was a rare time were he would openly show his true colors. Maybe today was a good sign that he was opening up a bit more. Hopefully at the new place, where he had his own space he would flourish.  

“Hey! There’s a garden area not far from here, it’s nice outside, why don’t we take the ice cream and go explore down there? There are benches we can sit at that’s surrounded by flowers.” Robert jumped to his feet, paying for the meal. 

“Mmph!” Peter let out an excited squeak with a spoon still in his mouth, as he carried the ice cream and followed him.

The garden was even more beautiful then he had remembered it. Vines flowing from the overhands, colorful flowerpots lining the brick walkway, the bench warm from the sun. Peter leaned against Robert's shoulder as they excitedly planned for the new home.

Tag list: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @moose-teeth @ill-eat-you-if-you-cross-me @yet-another-heathen @sillypizzazineoperator @freefallingup13 @alien-octopus @unicornscotty @whumpzone  @penny-for-your-whump @girlwithnoballons242 @whumpingredroses  @rippedjeansandfadeddreams  @cupcakes-and-pain @thinkingofausername

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ Thank you for reading!

(Seasons do not exist in this world. It is WARM today, okay? Okay.”

#He's a very passionate anti-ice advocate. #pet whumpee #whump #caretaker #parental caretaker #tw strangulation #protective caretaker #recovering whumpee

[redqueen-hypothesis]

maybe, home ➳ shaw (mlqc)

➳ PAIRING: reader x shaw (mlqc)

➳ WORD COUNT: 5191

➳ GENRE: sick!shaw, fluff

➳ SYNOPSIS: shaw falls ill and tries to hide it. you won’t stand his lies.

➳ REMARKS: happy yeeshaw day!! here’s to furthering the shaw agenda!!

He feels like shit.

Groaning, Shaw raises a hand to block out the sunlight currently assaulting his face, eyes squinting. His head is pounding like crazy, throat as dry as sandpaper. He wants to get out of bed and shut the damned curtains, but nearly retches the second he tries to stand, stomach heaving and the taste of bile bitter at the back of his throat.

Collapsing back onto his bed, he lets out a soft grunt, limbs aching. A cold? “Fuck.”

The ringing of his phone makes his ears hurt. A pained huff leaves his mouth, and he reaches for it, swiping the call button without a second look at the contact. “Who the fuck is it-”

“Shaw?”

At the sound of his name coming from your lips, Shaw pauses for a moment, mildly surprised, before realization catches up with him. He throws his head back to the pillows in flat out exasperation.

How could he have forgotten? He was supposed to meet you today at the train station at eleven, so that he could bring you over to the antique shop to choose prop materials for one of your shows.

Shaw glances at the clock sitting at his bedside table. Ten-fifty, he can still make it if he hurries. He’ll be late, of course, but you’ll forgive him after a light scolding, he knows-

“Shaw, are you still in bed?” He knows what expression you’re making, tongue pushed into your cheek with a pout on your lips. He can read you like an open book, every face you make etched into his memory. “You said to meet at eleven!”

“Heh, sorry. I overslept.” Shaw makes sure to keep his voice flippant, one hand bracing against the edge of the mattress as he waits for the nausea to subside. It doesn’t. “Ten minutes, am I right?”

He’s cold. Light shivers run up and down his body, although when he presses the back of his free hand to his forehead, his skin burns hot against his palm. No doubt about it, definitely sick.

“Hurry up! I knew you were going to be late as usual so I left later, but it seems like I’ll still be too early.” You complain, and Shaw lets out a quiet laugh at your words, fingers digging into the covers. He can hear the tinkle of a shop’s bell and quiet chattering, surmises that you must be buying your usual coffee at your favourite cafe now. You’re not too far from the train station.

He needs to hurry up. He wants to see you.

“I got you muffins, so you can skip breakfast and come right over.” You continue speaking, pausing for a moment when the barista calls your name to hand you your order. “I baked them myself, so you have to be my willing test subject and taste all of them, alright?”

You baked muffins for him. Goddamnit.

Shaw tries to get out of bed, he really does, but the second he gets to his feet, the room starts spinning in dizzying circles and he’s forced to stumble back to the bed, collapsing on the sweat soaked covers. A bitter chuckle leaves the back of his throat, one arm thrown over his face. What would you think if you saw him like this?

“About today,” Shaw swallows, throat scratching painfully with each word he speaks. “Something just cropped up, so I won’t be able to come. You know where the key is, just go ahead and take whatever you want.”

It’s a flimsy excuse, he knows, so patchy and full of holes he almost does laugh at himself. But he doesn’t want you seeing him like this, sick and weak and pathetic. That would be laughable, wouldn’t it? Him, weak?

“...Alright. The muffins will have to wait another day, then.” Shaw hates how disappointed you sound, even over the phone. He runs a hand through his hair, damp with sweat, trying to keep his voice steady. “Rain check?”

You finally let out a little giggle at his joke, and the corners of Shaw’s lips involuntarily pull up at the bright sound. “Okay. I’ll see you on another day?” You sound so excited to see him again that his chest clenches in response - he blames the fever.

“Yeah-” He starts to say, but is cut off by a sudden coughing fit. Shaw holds the phone away from him as he thumps on his chest in an attempt to quell the hacking, but it’s too late, and he can already hear the concern in your voice over the call.

“Shaw! Shaw, are you alright?”

“I’ve got stuff to do, I’ll reschedule with you next time.” He interrupts, trying to stop himself from dissolving into another bout of coughing. “Gotta go.”

He hangs up before you can say otherwise.

Switching his phone to silent and tossing it to the side, Shaw slumps back onto the mattress, bare skin breaking out in goosebumps as shivers run up and down through his body. He feels fucking awful. His gaze falls on the shark plushie you’d given him as a birthday present on the bed next to him, its jagged teeth bared in a big, dumb smile.

Apparently, it reminded you of him. He still can’t see the resemblance.

“She doesn’t have to know.” Shaw tells the shark. It stares back at him with beady eyes, as if firmly disapproving of his lies. “Don’t look at me like that.”

The plushie isn’t cowed in the least by the threat in his voice. It just continues to look at him, eyes unblinking. It reminds him of you.

Shaw grumbles, and tugs the shark to his chest. It’s soft, the fuzzy material of the felt slightly ticklish against his bare skin. “You’re no help at all, you useless fish.”

He falls asleep curled around it, fingers clutching one of the fins tightly.

He kind of wishes it was your hand instead.

>>>

You can’t find it.

Taking your bottom lip between your teeth, you search about in your bag, brows furrowed. Shaw had decided to bail on you today, telling you that something had suddenly come up; and while you aren’t quite convinced, you’re sure he had his own reasons for cancelling on you so suddenly. You could go to the antique shop on your own (the key is under the flowerpot outside the entrance), but you don’t want to be there without Shaw. It just wouldn’t be the same.

Earlier, just before he’d hung up on you, you’d heard him coughing heavily and had been instantly worried for him. Shaw always seems so strong, so casual even in the most dire of situations, so you can’t quite imagine him sick. The thought is almost unimaginable, although you knew he’s human too, just like the rest of you.

If by any chance he is sick, well... you want to be the one to take care of him.

Hence, here you are - outside a warehouse (you’d almost thought you’d gotten the wrong address by accident at first), rummaging about in your bag for the spare key he’d given you for emergencies. You don’t know if this constitutes as one, but you’ve called him several times after he hung up - only to get sent straight to dial tone.

Worry tugs at you, urging your hands to move faster. You reach all the way down into the bottom of your bag, past the box of assorted muffins, and your fingertips touch cool metal.

“Yes!” You let out a little victory cheer, sliding the key into the lock, teeth clicking smoothly against grooves. A turn, a twist, and the door to Shaw’s home swings open, revealing a dark space beyond. You’ve never actually been to his home, but now that you’re here, you can’t help the sense of anticipation that fills you. What does his home look like?

The door opens into a huge warehouse turned studio apartment, industrial lighting and cables dangling from the ceiling and half finished graffiti covering the walls. The odd skylight punched into the roof here and there allows the late morning light to shine into the room, brightening up dark corners and illuminating a surprisingly well kept kitchen area.

Shoved against a wall at the far side of the studio are two mismatched mattresses pushed together, and there’s a pair of bare legs sticking out from beneath the blanket. Curious, you shift closer as if in a trance, and your mouth slowly falls open at the sight exposed to your eyes.

It’s Shaw, sprawled horizontally across both mattresses, fast asleep. Peeking out under the blanket with him is a familiar smile full of white felt teeth, and you find yourself grinning at the sight of Sharky practically being suffocated in Shaw’s arms.

“So cute.” You whisper to yourself, pulling out your phone to snap a picture. At that moment, Shaw mumbles in his sleep and rolls over onto his back, causing the blanket around his torso to slip down and reveal bare skin-

Oh my god.

Your scream must have broken the glass of the windows. At the sound of your voice, Shaw makes a confused snort in his sleep drunken state, his golden eyes flickering open blearily before they come to land on you.

He’s still naked.

You let out a squeak and immediately duck into a crouch, hands over your eyes. Your cheeks are on fire.

You don’t know how red you are right now.

“I didn’t see your... your...” Your mouth moves soundlessly, unable to form the word that is far too prominent in our mind right now. Your eyes are still squeezed tightly shut. “Your... dong.”

A second of awkward silence hangs between the two of you.

Suddenly, you hear a quiet laugh break out from above you. It’s soft, scratchy with sleep, and then two hands are at your wrists, tugging your hands away from your face. “Just say it as it is.” Shaw’s voice is teasing, and you can’t bear to open your eyes. You desperately just want the entire ground to open up and swallow you whole. His breath is hot against the shell of your ear. “D, I, C, K-”

“Stop!” You squeal in embarrassment, and he pulls you over until you’re barely holding yourself over him by the arms. You’re sure you’re about to spontaneously combust. “Shaw! Go! And! Put! On! Something! Right Now!”

He chuckles. “I’m wearing boxers.”

“That’s not clothes!” You squeak, beating at his chest with your fist, frantic. Your heart is hammering in your ears. “Boxers are underwear, not-”

A sudden, loud noise interrupts you in the middle of your sentence, and your eyes fly open to see him with both hands clamped over his mouth, trying to suppress his coughs. “Shaw?” It’s only then that you notice the dark shadows under his eyes, how pallid his complexion is. “You’re sick!”

“Just a little under the weather.” His voice is raspy, and he shudders a little as he takes a breath. Frowning in concern, you pull his head close to yours - missing the look of surprise that flits across his face - and touch his forehead to yours, brow furrowed.

He’s unbearably warm, and you can see a thin sheen of cold sweat on his skin. Definitely sick.

“You’re burning up!” You exclaim in concern, hurrying to tuck Shaw back under the blankets. He’s still wearing his usual casual, carefree grin, golden eyes glazed over with fever as he stares up at you. “Are you saying I’m hot?”

“Now is not the time for your jokes.” You scold, moving over to the kitchen area, pulling out a handkerchief from your bag and running it under cold water from the tap. Should you get him a glass of water too? “Why didn’t you tell me you were sick? You could have just cancelled today.”

Shaw lets out a defeated sigh as you turn around to eye him, one hand on your hip. His cheeks are flushed from the fever. “’m sorry.”

“Here, drink some water.” You step over to him, lifting the cup to his lips and he swallows greedily without protest, fingers latching around your wrist to keep your hand steady. You don’t know whether it’s from the fever, but your skin burns at his touch. “Why didn’t you keep yourself hydrated? You need to drink water to cool off.”

“Couldn’t get out of bed earlier.” Shaw answers matter of factly, slumping back on the mattress as if it’s no big deal to him. Your heart squeezes painfully in your chest as you wonder how long he’s had to deal with these sorts of situations alone.

Part of you wants to scold him for not relying on you more, but another part understands - he’s been independent since he was a child, and it’s hard for him to break old habits. Pressing your lips together, you place the wet towel on his forehead with renewed determination - you’re going to show him that he can rely on you.

“I’m going to take your temperature, do you have a thermometer? You could be running quite a high fever.” You ask, brushing his hair out of his eyes. Seemingly unconcerned, Shaw lets out an exaggerated sigh, cracking open one eye to look at you. “Ahh, and they said you could only see pretty nurses in a hospital. Think you could get a uniform to go with it?”

Your face goes flat. This little bastard... “How about I break something of yours and send you to the hospital in an ambulance right now?”

“Ooh, feisty. I like that.” Shaw chuckles, eyes slipping shut again. You stare at him for a moment longer and shake your head, moving over to the kitchen area once more. Now, if you were Shaw, where would you hide medicine?

“There’s no point looking for medicine, I don’t have anything but painkillers.” Shaw’s lazy voice shatters your contemplation over his cupboards. You glance at him, mouth pulled into a frown. “What do you mean, you don’t have anything but painkillers?”

Shaw raises an eyebrow from the bed, easing up so that he can watch you. You don’t think he knows how vulnerable he looks right now, a faint, half smile tugging at his lips and eyes hazy from the sickness. “I mean it. There’s nothing.”

“What about paracetamol?”

“Nope.”

“Cough syrup?”

“Expired a few years back.” Shaw shrugs, as if it’s completely normal. You stare at him for a moment longer, before you lift your own fingers to your temples, rubbing them in an attempt to ward off the headache you can already feel coming. How can one person be so bad at taking care of themselves? “Shaw, you have nothing.”

A laugh leaves him. “That’s what I said.”

That’s it. “You’re hopeless,” you declare, rooting about your bag for your purse. “I’m going to the pharmacist before you die from a cold-”

“You’re leaving?” The words are said so quickly that you’re a little startled, and when you look over at him, he’s staring at you with an oddly vulnerable expression that you’ve never seen on him before.

“Yeah, to the pharmacist.” You say, moving over to sit at his side, running your fingers through his bleached hair. His eyes slip shut at your touch, and perhaps subconsciously, takes your hand with his own to press it to his heated cheek. “Ahh, this feels good. Don’t go.”

You’ve never quite seen him like this before, so much more demanding with your affections that he almost reminds you of a child wanting to be spoiled rotten with attention. A tiny smile tugs at the corner of your mouth, bottled emotion swirling in your chest. “I need to get medicine because a certain idiot man doesn’t know how to take care himself.”

“Forget about him.” Shaw mutters, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face in your side. You gasp, a little ticklish at his feverish heat, and feel Shaw’s grin against your skin. “Just stay here. The pharmacist is too damned far.”

“It’s a fifteen minute walk, Shaw.”

“Exactly. Too long.” Shaw complains, sucking at a spot a little over your hip and giving you a tiny nip. You yelp, tugging at his ear and he laughs. His lips are so chapped. “We can have so much more fun in that time-”

You stuff a pillow over his face. “No. You need rest.”

Shaw grumbles, but gives up when he sees the unyielding stare you’re leveling at him. “Fine, fine. Abandon this poor, sick man or whatever, you heartless woman.” You laugh at the put out expression on his face.

“I’ll be back soon enough. You need to sleep, however.” You try to pry his hands away from your waist, but sick Shaw is still miles stronger than you will ever be. “Oh, come on, you’re not going to get better if you don’t rest!”

“I want to rest like this.” Shaw fires back, plaintively locking his arms around and pillowing his head in your lap. His golden eyes squint up at you from below, a weak grin pulling at the side of his lips. “You’re supposed to be making me feel better, right?”

You eye him for a good second before a fond, exasperated sigh escapes your lips. “Fine, if you insist.” You begin combing through his hair, bleached strands slipping between your fingers

A mischievous glint sparkles in his eyes. “So, does that mean that we can-”

“Another word from you and I’m going,” you warn, a chuckle pulling itself from the back of his throat in response. Surprisingly, he doesn’t say another word and instead closes his eyes, tucking his face against your side, each breath coming out uneven and labored.

Just how sick is he, you wonder, tugging your lip between your teeth as you look down at his head in your lap. It doesn’t take long for Shaw to slip back into sleep’s hold, breathing evening out slightly and mouth slipping open slightly. You down at him for a moment, tracing his features with a finger, and finally pressing your thumb against his bottom lip gently. He doesn’t stir in the least, well and truly asleep.

Fondness tugs at your heartstrings. You lean down to press a kiss to his brow, smoothing his hair back.

“I’ll be back soon.” You mouth tenderly into his hair. Cradling his head in your hands, you gently shift it off your lap and onto a pillow instead, making to rise to your feet. Before you can, however, something latches around your wrist, and you look back to see Shaw grasping your hand tight with his own.

“I thought you were asleep-” You begin to protest, but when you look at Shaw’s face, you realise that he’s still completely lost to dreamland. His fingers curl around your hand involuntarily, an incoherent mumble leaving his lips.

It sounds like ‘don’t go’.

Looking up, you see Sharky tossed to the side of the mattress, awkwardly balancing on the tip of its nose and its tail propped up on a pillow. From this angle, the smile it usually wears has been upturned into a frown. Look at how he’s treating me, it seems to be protesting. A little laugh leaves your lips, and you reach over to rescue it. “I know you love him, Sharky, so don’t give me that look. Both of you have the same smiles, after all.”

You put the shark plush in his arms and Shaw finally shifts a little, wrapping his arms around the toy and letting go of your hand. Free at last, you rise to your feet and poke Sharky on the tip of the nose. “Take care of him until I get back, okay?”

Sharky doesn’t reply as usual, but you know he’s reluctantly agreeing. You cast your glance on Shaw, a gentle smile tugging at your mouth.

“Don’t worry.” You say, dropping a kiss to his temple. He doesn’t stir. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

>>>

There’s the sound of humming.

Shaw stirs slightly, half dangling between a shadowy world of dreams and reality, feeling more well rested than he has in ages. Strained notes of the familiar song drift past his ears, along with the sound of steam escaping a pot. His limbs and eyelids are heavy with sleep, tempting to draw him under once again, but he forces his eyes open, turning onto his side where the noise is coming from.

You’re standing at the stove, dressed in one of his old band tees and shorts, both far too big for you and hair thrown up in a quick bun, tendrils and wisps escaping to frame your face. There’s a pot sitting on the fire, and you stir it with a wooden spoon a few times before lifting it to your lips to taste it.

Shaw watches as a small smile of satisfaction spreads across your face, and you cover the pot with a lid once more, turning to wash up in the sink.

For some reason, he can’t take his eyes off your back as you continue humming to yourself. There’s a lump in his throat, a throbbing in his chest that he can’t blame on the fever - it aches, burns. Shaw feels full, so damned full, as if a gaping hole in him that’s been around since forever has finally been filled.

You look like you’re comfortable in his clothes, standing barefoot in his home and messing around in his kitchen. You fit seamlessly into his house, as if you were meant to be there from the very beginning.

Your name leaves his lips before he knows what he’s doing.

You whirl around and he sees varying stages of surprise playing over your face, expressions he doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of. Then, almost in strikingly slow motion, your eyes brighten when you see him, your lips pull up in a smile, and your entire face takes on a vibrant air - as if you’re happy just seeing him awake.

“Shaw!” You say his name, hurrying over with a wet towel, wiping your hands on the shirt you’re wearing, his shirt. He can’t help but throw a hand over his face at the sight, an emotion too dangerously close to happiness bubbling at the back of his throat. He must still be out of it from the fever. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, just-” He runs a tongue over his lips, feeling cracked and dry skin there. “Just need some water.”

“Wait a second.” Holding out the fresh towel, you gently dab at his face and mouth, before moving to wipe down his torso. He shivers a little at the chill, but then you cover him with the blanket once again, tucking him in. “I’ll get you a cup of water and some porridge, okay? You should eat something since you’ve been sleeping the entire day without any food. That can’t be good for you. After you’ve eaten that, you can take the medicine.”

Shaw groans as he looks up through the skylights, rubbing at his eyes. “... what time is it?”

“Early evening! You slept through most of the afternoon, but I managed to get some water and paracetamol into you when I got back from the pharmacist’s.” You call from the kitchen, ladling porridge into a small bowl for him. Shaw fixes his eyes on the sight, trying to commit it into memory. “You were quite out of it, so you might not remember anything. Do you feel better now?”

“Yeah.” Shaw cranes his head, stretching out his arms. When he sits up, his head isn’t spinning any more, and the nausea in his stomach seems to have subsided. “When did you put on my shirt? More importantly, why wasn’t I awake to see it?”

“My dress was getting uncomfortable, so I stole some of your clothes that were lying around. I hope you don’t mind.” You step over with a tray of porridge and a glass of clear water, sitting at his bedside and holding out a spoon to him. He doesn’t mind, quite the opposite, in fact. “Here, eat up. I’m no cook like Victor, but-”

“Feed me.”

Your eyes widen near comically at his words and Shaw lets out a short bark of laughter. And then you’re stuttering, a pink blush high on your cheeks as you try to find the words to deny him.

“Shaw!”

“What, you won’t help an ill person out? My arms are so weak they won’t even stay up, look.” He dramatically tosses his arms into the air before they fall back into his lap. “I’ll drop the spoon and make a mess all over the bed, so you need to feed me.”

You shake your head once, clearly aware that he’s teasing you. “You’re so annoying.” Still, you lift a spoon of porridge to his lips, turning your face away, too embarrassed to meet his eyes. “Here.”

Shaw does his best to restrain his laughter, leaning back against the wall to take in your expression, the shade of pink staining your face deepening into a rosy blush. “It’s too hot to eat. Blow on it for me.”

This time, you do gape at his shamelessness for a full five seconds before you regain your senses, sputtering furiously. “Shaw!”

The chuckles finally spill forth from his chest, nearly bringing tears to his eyes. Your face turns even redder at his clear amusement, and you reach out to pull at his ear painfully. “Stop laughing at me!”

“Ow, ow, okay.” Shaw can’t seem to stop snickering, and you puff out your cheeks at him. He lifts a hand to flick your nose. “When you react like that, who can resist teasing you a little?”

You scowl at him, but raise the spoon to your lips anyway to cool it down before holding it to his mouth. “Say ahh.” You still sound like you’re sulking.

Shaw opens his mouth obediently this time, amber eyes fixed on you with each bite he takes. The porridge is a little bland since he can’t smell it, but the fact that you’re feeding him makes each bite far more enjoyable than if he were alone eating alone.

He finishes the entire bowl in a matter of minutes, and doesn’t miss the way your eyes light up when he asks for seconds. Stomach finally satiated, he lies back down and watches peacefully as you clean up the kitchen, the light of the setting sun casting you in its soft, orange glow.

Shaw turns to the side to see Sharky lying on its side, looking at him. See? That wasn’t so scary, was it now? She’s going to accept you no matter what, and she isn’t going to leave. You can stop being so cautious now.

He grunts, eyes narrowing as he stares suspiciously at the toy shark. “I didn’t ask for your opinion. Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything.” Your voice comes from behind him, and Shaw rolls over to see you walking over. You press the back of your hand to his forehead, your skin cool to the touch. “Still a little feverish, but you should feel better soon.”

“If I stay sick longer, will you take care of me then?” The words leave his mouth before he can think them through, and you still at his bedside, eyes widening. Ah fuck, too emotional. He tries to play it off, donning his usual casual grin and raising a hand to ruffle your hair. “You know you love me too much to watch me languish in pain alone, yeah?”

Your answer is something he doesn’t see coming.

“Of course.” You bite down on your bottom lip, looking fairly upset and Shaw is caught off guard in an instant. Earnestly, you grab his hands, squeezing them gently. They’re so small and smooth compared to his. “Next time you get sick, just tell me. I want to be there with you, I want to take care of you, and I want to do it for a long, long time. So don’t be alone anymore, okay?”

Shaw stays silent for a long time, staring up into your eyes. They’re thoughtful and serious, not the slightest hint of humor or playfulness in them. A short bark of laughter leaves him, and he hates how scratchy his voice sounds. It’s all the sickness’ fault. “Damn, I could kiss you right now.” The warmth of your hands around his is something he never wants to let go.

“You can’t.” You scold instantly, moving to pull away from him. “You’re sick, and if you kiss me all those germs will definitely get into me, then I’ll get sick and you’ll have to take care of me-”

Shaw pulls you forward by the arm, and you tumble into his lap, faces dangerously close to each other. He can count every eyelash brushing your cheeks, see the way your pupils waver and dilate as they struggle between meeting his eyes and looking away. “Shaw, this is not what a sick person should be doing-”

“You’re so noisy.” Shaw comments, putting one hand over your mouth. You make muffled noises of complaint against his palm, but then Shaw leans in, so close that he can feel stray strands of your hair tickling his face, and presses his lips against the back of his hand.

The distance of a few centimetres suddenly feels all too far, and Shaw lets out a disappointed sigh, knocking your foreheads together. He hears your yelp, and stifles a chuckle in his throat.

With mild amusement, he watches as your eyes flicker open, stunned, before he pulls away. “That’ll have to do for now.” Shaw loves, no, lives, for your reactions to his teasing. He could watch them for hours and never get bored.

You sulk, pressing your hands against your reddened cheeks. “You’re awful. For a second, I thought you were actually about to kiss me!”

“Oh? You sound disappointed.” Shaw laughs, and you scramble to deny it at once. He watches you as you rant, completely unaware of the small, contented smile he’s wearing on his face.

He can see your dress thrown over the back of one of his chairs. Your heels lie next to his motorcycle boots at the door. You’re dressed in his shirt, scolding him for speaking nonsense, and he’s never felt warmer than he does now.

This sort of life is different, but okay. Shaw likes this kind of different.

A snort leaves his mouth at his own thoughts. He’s tumbling, head over heels, falling face first into the unknown. But it’ll be okay, because he knows you’ll be there with him.

“Are you even listening to me?” You complain, tugging at his arm and eyes clear and honest as they look at him. Maybe one day, he’ll ask you to come move in with him, and then instead of his house, this will become his home. At the thought, Shaw finds himself grinning, and ducks down to drop a playful kiss to your cheek.

It suddenly doesn’t seem so far off, after all.

“Nope.”

#mlqc #mlqc fanfic #mlqc shaw #shaw #mr love queen's choice #mr love queen's choice shaw #ling xiao

[yatorihell]

In The Darkness Chapter 77 - The Visit

Noragami x Harry Potter AU

Words: 4,582

Summary: The trio visit Godric’s Hollow.

Also available on Yatorihell A03

Winter rolled in and the days blurred into each other.

Yukine’s birthday passed without much celebration – not that they had been keeping tracked of the dates in the first place. During a trip for supplies, they bought a little cake – a decadent rarity in the new travelling life they had – and presented it to Yukine at dinner.

The frustrations had eased lightly, the horcrux now being carried in their pockets rather than around their necks to keep contact to a minimum, but Yato still felt that nag that he wasn’t doing enough. If it wasn’t a glimmer of rubies, a serpent’s eyes, or his own name being whispered like wind in the eaves in his visions, it was Sakura who greeted him. A pallor like death and her face contorted, reaching around his neck before disappearing beyond the veil.

“Can you not see anything?” Yukine prodded.

Yato suppressed a groan. This became the new routine: sleep, see nothing, wake up, get questioned. He could understand the need to pick apart every part of the dreams he had, but there was nothing there.

“No, I can’t see anything,” Yato replied as calmly as he could.

Yukine huffed and fell silent.

The Sorcerer seemed to be stronger at preventing Yato see his memories. If they could work out how to destroy the locket, maybe it would weaken his defences enough to find the other horcruxes.

Yato told himself this daily, a strained belief that the first step was destroying the locket. It would be the second out of Merlin knew how many, but still, how many horcruxes could one person make? How many times could they tear their soul apart and still feel human? He could only hope there was a limit.

“I think I found a lead on how to destroy horcruxes,” Hiyori said later that evening.

Yato looked at her, eyes tired in the dying lamplight. On her lap was that infernal Dark Arts book she read through every evening, seemingly doing more to find horcruxes than he was. In her hands she held the book Professor Tenjin left her, Tales of Beedle the Bard.

Hiyori patted the spot beside her on her bed, and Yato ambled over. Yukine looked on from his spot on the floor where he’d bundled himself in a blanket.

“Look at this,” Hiyori pointed at one of the dozens of marks that had been etched over the book’s pages. A circle within a triangle, crossed through with a vertical line. He blinked at it for a minute, then looked at Hiyori.

“You know I failed Ancient Runes,” Yato said. “’Affinity for failure’, Takemikazuchi said.”

Hiyori shook her head. “It’s not a rune.”

Hiyori put down the book and refocused on the Dark Arts book. She flipped to a page and showed him and Yukine, who had finally risen to see what she was talking about. The same symbol was printed in the top right corner, besides a name in dark lettering. Their mouths fell open.

“Not the Grindelwald? Certified madman purist?” Yukine asked, craning his head to try to read the scribbled writing.

“One of the most dangerous Dark Wizards, Grindelwald believed that wizards were oppressed by Muggles and wanted to return ‘the natural order’,” Hiyori recited.

“Like the Sorcerer,” Yato said.

Hiyori nodded and continued. “He attended Durmstrang, which is famous for its relaxed approach to the Dark Arts, and got expelled for attacking students and… unethical experiments. He became obsessed with the Deathly Hallows, which is what this symbol is.”

Hiyori picked up the Beedle the Bard storybook again and flicked to the front page where they could see the same symbol.

“The Philosophers Stone, the Cloak of Invisibility, and the Elder Wand,” Hiyori pointed at each as she went. “He wanted to retrieve all three and become the Master of Death. He got as far as the Elder Wand before he was captured.”

“Then what?” Yukine asked.

“He disappeared.”

Yukine let out a breath that was nearly a snort. “That’s the Ministry for you, can’t keep hold of the Darkest Wizards.”

“How do the Deathly Hallows help us?” Yato interrupted.

He knew the Philosophers Stone was said to be used to create the Elixir of Life, giving the drinker immortality. Kugaha had revealed his own version which could contain life force derived from a soul vessel, which was the diary Yato had destroyed in the Chamber of Secrets. He doubted he nor the Sorcerer was in possession of it if he had to resort to horcruxes.

The invisibility cloak, well, there were lots of them, even he had one. But the Elder Wand was something obscured in myth, legend, and fairy-tale, like the book in Hiyori’s lap. No one knew who owned the Elder Wand due to the curse of jealousy that came with it; its owners murdered in their beds by others craving its power.

A storybook seemed an unlikely answer to destroying horcruxes, but Hiyori was thinking of the bigger picture.

“It’s not the Hallows we need, it’s the name,” Hiyori put down the book and folded her hand on her lap like she was about to reveal the biggest revelation in the world. “Grindelwald had family in Godric’s Hollow.”

Yato flinched inwardly at the village name, but it went unnoticed. Hiyori looked at them expectantly, but the penny still hung in the air.

“How does that help us?” Yukine prompted.

“Grindelwald’s symbol was in this book. Grindelwald was from Godric’s Hollow,” Hiyori paused for a moment, still seeing their blank faces.

“What if Professor Tenjin knew that he couldn’t give you the sword? What if he hid it somewhere we could find it, using the gifts he gave us?”

“The Sword of Gryffindor is locked up in Hogwarts,” Yato pointed out.

“But is it the real sword?”

Yato and Yukine paused. It was a longshot, but would Professor Tenjin have the foresight to know that the sword would be kept from them?

“Where would we find it?” Yukine asked.

Hiyori’s face fell just a fraction. “I don’t know…”

“It’s a start at least,” Yato encouraged. “You found a clue!”

Hiyori smiled gently. “Thank you.”

Yukine picked his blanket up from the floor and crossed back to his own bed. “Let’s just hope we don’t get snatched before we find it.”

~

The next time they had stopped for supplies was in the midst of a snowstorm.

They left their camp wrapped in hats and scarves to hide their faces and apparated. When they emerged in a sleepy village that was covered in snow, Yato recognised it instantly. The houses they passed were decked in wreaths, the front room lights glowing warm and making them silently wish that they had the luxury of a home to go back to.

Godric’s Hollow was mainly a wizarding population, and visiting wasn’t a risk they would take if there wasn’t something important hidden within.

The main thoroughfare of the village was quiet aside from the drunken cheers from the pub further down the road, but Yukine pulled his scarf around his mouth and entered the shop alone. Whilst they would apparate together, going in shops alone was one way of making sure Snatchers and snitches wouldn’t recognise three of the wizarding worlds most wanted huddled around cans of soup.

Yato looked wistfully up the road, heart hammering and mouth dry. He hadn’t been here since that day, and the knowledge of that made him feel sick.

“Do you want to visit her?”

Yato snapped his head back. Hiyori had pulled her pink scarf from around her mouth by a finger, looking at him with soft eyes. He looked back, through the snow where he could just make out the church tower standing out against the sky. Maybe the horcrux was playing with his heart, feeling its erratic beat on the underside of the locket, but pulsating need to go was enough to move him.

He nodded.

They walked silently from the shop, not bothering to let Yukine know where they were going. But either way, anyone who knew Yato would know the first place he would go, for this village just so happened to be where Sakura was laid to rest.

The church dominated the sky as they entered through the small metal gate that had become stuck open in a snowdrift. The stain-glassed windows glowed dimly, and a faint noise could be heard from inside, but they turned left and followed the hidden pathway that skirted the edges.

The small churchyard was where they had erected a headstone and said their own private mass for those who knew Sakura. Yato remembered Professor Tenjin, Kofuku, Daikoku, and nameless faces gathered around the plot of earth that held no coffin, laying late-blooming cherry blossoms atop the grass and saying their final goodbyes.

Now Yato could see that those branches were long gone, cleared away by the groundskeeper probably not too long after the funeral. A thick layer of snow capped the black stone, the golden words not quite faded yet like the memory of her voice. The flowerpot was blackened with dirt and the rainwater inside surely frozen, not that there were flowers to begin with.

They looked at the gravestone in silence, allowing the snowflakes to settle on the sleeves of their coats and star their woolly hats in multitude of fading constellations. The ringing of bells sounded behind them, and slowly, a gentle hum of singing reached them across the barrenness of forgotten souls.

“I think it’s Christmas eve,” Hiyori said gently.

Yato said nothing, just stared at the marble that listed Sakura’s name, birth and death. Underneath were the words that named her sister, friend; that was all the monument that her life held.

Hiyori quietly stepped forward and knelt on the frosty ground before the headstone. Wordlessly she waved her wand in a circular motion, a cherry blossom wreath appearing against the grave.

Yato smiled sadly at the small yet great gesture as she stood up and stepped back beside him. His hand caught hers in a silent thank you, which she squeezed in return and leaned her head against his shoulder. Maybe this was the closure he needed to clear his visions.

“Happy Christmas, Hiyori,” Yato murmured.

“Happy Christmas, Yato.”

They stayed like that for a moment longer, lingering in the comfort and warmth they gave each other. Yato’s eyes flickered up to the dark churchyard railings that divided the living from the dead. In the dying snow flurry, he could see a figure stood in the road directly facing them.

At first he thought it was Yukine, allowing them a moment's privacy to remember Sakura, but the figure was too short and had an unnerving aura to it. Yato tightened his grip on his wand but looked away, pretending he hadn’t seen the stocky figure.

“Someone’s watching us,” Yato murmured quietly, looking to the left beyond Hiyori at the rows of wonky headstones.

She looked at him, eyes wide under snowcapped lashes before she subtly looked to the railings. She frowned, her breath fogging in front of her. “Isn’t that Iwami?”

Yato allowed his eyes to slide over again, but the figure was already retreating. From a distance he couldn’t be sure, but the white tufts of hair and the small, hunched build under the coat could’ve been him. He was one of the oldest members of the Order of the Phoenix, serving alongside Tenjin in the First Wizarding War, yet he hadn’t been seen since Kofuku told them about members going missing before Tenjin’s death.

The figure stopped and looked back but continued down centre of the abandoned road.

“I think he wants us to follow,” Yato murmured. Could Hiyori be right? Was the Sword of Gryffindor hidden here all along, in Tenjin’s birthplace and already in the Orders possession? Had Iwami stolen away with it, keeping it safe under Tenjin’s orders?

Hiyori looked back up the road towards the shop. “We should wait for Yukine -.”

“It’s ok, Iwami is in the Order,” Yato cut in. He took Hiyori’s hand and started up the path towards the exit, heart beating harder.

Iwami was nearly a smudge in the snowfall, but their paces quickly caught up to him outside a derelict house on the outskirts of the village. The windows had been shattered and the door hung from its hinges, letting a small snowdrift pile up in the hallway. Bits of debris that seemed to have been thrown from the windows were strewn across the front garden and covered in a thick layer of snow.

Iwami shuffled inside, not looking back as Yato and Hiyori hung around the gate. He disappeared into the shadows of the house, not bothering to turn on any lights. They stood outside for a moment, wondering why he hadn’t greeted them nor invited them in.

“Should we go in?” Hiyori whispered.

A groaning came from inside, and Yato nodded. “He said come in.”

Yato led the way inside the house, stepping over the frozen post that had piled up on the floor and been obscured by snow of the same colour. He could tell that this wasn’t Iwami’s residency due to the smell of something foul and the moulting interior. The furniture was broken and the lightbulbs had been smashed in their holdings, leaving them in pure darkness.

Yato’s eyes adjusted and he saw Iwami’s stout, hunched figure at the bottom of the stairs. He didn’t look quite right; all shadows and lines in his face and a gait that told them he was at the end of his days. He spoke again, and Yato’s ears attuned to his speech.

“Is it here?” Yato asked quietly, matching his tone. “The Sword of Gryffindor? Professor Tenjin -.”

Iwami spoke again, a rasp that barely reached Hiyori’s ears. He turned and started up the stairs, footsteps thumping slowly and methodically with every step.

Yato looked back at Hiyori for a second and followed him.

The stairs were narrow and steep, and Yato feared Iwami may fall back at any moment, but they made it to the top of the stairs. None of the rooms Yato could see had doors, leading to gaping abysses of foreboding darkness that were barely illuminated by the streetlamp outside. He followed Iwami inside the front bedroom, wand pressed to his side.

There was a moment of silence. Yato waited patiently, but still he could feel the steady thrum of his heart against the locket, an unpleasant and agitating feeling.

“You are Yato.”

It was a statement, not a question, but Yato nodded regardless. “Do you have something for me?”

Iwami close his eyes and Yato felt an uncomfortable prickle run over his body. The horcrux jerked against his skin and the world swam in a hazy shadowed blur. Before him, Iwami’s mouth opened and his eyelids fluttered, his eyes rolling back in his head as a long tendril pushed out from his mouth. The sound of scales slithering within skin filled the room, and in the distance, he heard Hiyori scream.

The body collapsed to the floor and a serpent spilled from its mouth, slick with salvia glistening against the black scales. The same snake he saw in his visions; the same one that he saw in his bedroom at Hogwarts.

In the time it took for Yato to raise his wand the snake struck his arm, puncturing the skin through his coat.

Yato gasped, somehow keeping a grip on his wand, as its tail slammed into his stomach, a coil of muscle that sent him staggering back towards the door. He heard footsteps on the stairs, unable to call out to Hiyori and tell her to get out. The tail lashed against his ankle and Yato fell with a pained grunt. He felt the coils of scales encircle him, muscular and heavy as the serpent’s head slithered up his chest. The horcrux thrummed harder against his chest as if beating in time with the flickering forked tongue.

“Yaboku…”

Yato felt his vision darkening, arms held tight against his chest, wand useless.

The snake's head darted up suddenly, fangs bared in a hiss as a spell rippled over its body. Its body convulsed and loosened, and Yato gasped, kicking his legs free and coughing. He saw the snake's body in the darkness strike at Hiyori, heard her shriek as she dodged it and flung another spell at it.

Red light briefly lit up the hallway as the snake was flung backward and narrowly missed Yato as he stood. If there was a door he would’ve slammed it shut, but instead, he watched the snake flip over the suit of skin and come at them again with renewed vigour.

Yato raised his wand, arm aching with what he hoped wasn’t poison, and bellowed, “Confringo!”

Yato threw himself over Hiyori, shielding her against the wall. The bedroom exploded. The shattered glass on the floor bounced around the room, the furniture reverberated and splintered, and in the din, they heard the snake scream.

Yato’s head split open with white noise, an unbearable searing pain against his heart forcing the world to go white as snow and then black as night.

~

Feet walking barefoot through rivers of blood on white marble. The steady drip of crimson running from a hand, splattering on the floor like blooming roses.

A long, elegant black wand. The word ‘Nagini’ whispered like a prayer in the language of snakes.

The feeling of ripping a soul apart and simultaneously taking one for a perverted act of Dark magic.

A woman with long dark hair crying, a ring on her finger that looked so familiar yet unfamiliar as it still contained her lover’s soul.

The locket. Grindelwald's mark. A two-handled goblet he’d seen in multiple portraits at Hogwarts. 

The serpent’s eyes, yellow and glowing like a Basilisk.

~

Yato came to with a start. He was in the tent, in his own bed. His coat and jumper had been peeled off and the duvet was tucked around him. From the still air, dim lamplight, and the lack of warmth in the tent, it could have been the middle of the night. A sheen of sweat trickled down his face. His sudden movement brought Hiyori to his side instantly, closely followed by Yukine. His eyes focused in the dim yellow glow as the lamp was brought to his bedside.

“What happened?” Yato croaked.

“You blacked out at the house,” Hiyori answered. She held a sponge in her hand, and Yato noticed the small cuts on her face where he failed to protect her from the glass. “Yukine heard us from the churchyard and came running. We apparated out of there before the snake woke up.”

Yato looked at Yukine, dazed. From the look on his face, Yukine was more worried than he was pissed off, but the fact that fear outweighed anger scared him.

“How long was I out?” Yato asked.

“Hours, it's nearly morning,” Hiyori dropped the sponge into the bowl of water next to the bed.

“We couldn’t get the horcrux off you,” Hiyori continued. “We had to use a Severing Charm to get it off you; it was like touching fire. And the snake bit you, so I put some salve on them.”

Yato gingerly pushed down his duvet just enough to see an angry red burn in the centre of his chest, right above his heart. His knuckles were white and cut, and the punctures in his arm weren’t as deep as they felt. No doubt the rest of his was as battered and bruised as he felt. He remembered the pulsating beat of the horcrux that he mistook for his own heartbeat, the jerking thrum it made when he was in close contact with the snake. It was as natural as it was agitating.

“Where is it?” Yato looked around, less desperately than he might’ve had if it hadn’t maimed him.

“In the bag. We’ll leave it there for a few days.”

Yato flopped back onto the bed and closed his eyes. “That was the same snake that attacked Daikoku in the Department of Mysteries.”

He opened his eyes again and stared at the canvas, feeling Hiyori’s and Yukine’s eyes intently on him. “I think it’s his pet – ‘Nagini’.”

He tasted the name on his lips. It was foreign to him, and although the thought of the most powerful Dark Wizard in the world having a pet was unthinkable, it was less so knowing that this was the kind he had.

“Iwami…” Yato asked questioningly, looking at the pair, but Hiyori shook her head.

“Dead in the cupboard.”

“It must’ve used him as a skin to lure us to the house,” Yato sighed. He dragged a hand over his face.

In his desperation to get the sword, he put Hiyori’s life at risk. He wasn’t even sure it was Iwami until he had them in the house and nearly butchered them. Even then, he hadn’t been seen in nearly a year – he was one of the members who had gone missing, presumed dead or defected. Now they knew what had happened; the Sorcerer was using their own against them.

“What was he saying to you?” Hiyori asked.

Yato pushed himself up and accepted the fresh t-shirt Yukine offered him. “What do you mean? You were there.”

“You weren’t talking English,” Hiyori countered. “It was just…”

“Hisses?” Yukine finished. They both looked at him and he offered a single shrug. “Yato speaks parseltonuge; it’s how he found me in the Chamber of Secrets. He sleeptalks it too.”

Yato rubbed his head again, feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on. He hadn’t spoken parseltongue in years, but he didn’t even realise he was speaking it when he talked to Nagini. It came so easily, like slipping into another skin and talking with an old friend. Once again, the name Yaboku was spoken in a sweetly sinister hiss that was all too familiar.

“Did you have a vision?” Yukine asked, but this time the question didn’t annoy Yato. He paused.

“I saw him.” The footsteps in blood, the wand, the voice – it was all the Sorcerer. And those flashes – Izanami wearing the ring horcrux, a two-handled goblet… “I saw his memories.”

Yato briefly described the vision, along with the new information about the goblet. Yukine frowned. “That sounds like Helga Hufflepuff’s goblet.”

It clicked into place as soon as he said it. He’d seen her portrait at Hogwarts, most recently in the Hufflepuff dormitories when he got love-potioned. A golden goblet encrusted with jewels and etched with a badger was held in her hands as she looked at him disapprovingly.

“How can that be a horcrux? Hufflepuffs cup went missing years ago, along with Ravenclaws Diadem,” Hiyori pondered.

“We know he attended Hogwarts. I wouldn’t be surprised if they went missing around the same time he left, or he was able to get in using a Vanishing Cabinet to steal them,” Yukine pointed out, folding his arms over his chest. “If that’s the case, he had possession of all the founder’s relics.”

They fell silent. Godric Gryffindor’s sword which had been withheld from them and was now lost. Helga Hufflepuff’s cup was now a horcrux. Rowena Ravenclaw’s diadem had been also been lost or stolen. The Chamber of Secrets and the Basilisk was Salazar Slytherin’s ‘gift’ to Hogwarts, and was now dead. It seemed to be a personal vendetta if the Sorcerer was using Hogwarts’ own founding relics against them.

“Did you see where it was at least?” Yukine asked, but Yato shook his head in silence.

Hiyori’s thoughts cut the silence again with fresh fear. “How did we get traced again? Just like the café, something happened and they found us. Only this time they were more careful about the execution.”

Or lack of, Yato thought, but he had a point – something happened and they were followed. No one could follow their apparations unless they touched them, and if they had been sighted, Snatchers would’ve got to them before they could escape.

Yato let out a frustrated huff. “I don’t know how we were followed, but we should get going.”

“What about the sword?”

“They probably got to it before us.”

Yato kicked the duvet free, happy to see they’d left his trousers on unlike his shirt, and swung himself out of bed. He winced at the bruises on his side and nearly kicked over the water bowl on the floor before Yukine caught his elbow. Yato let out a wheezed laugh. It had been a while since he’d taken a beating; he was getting soft if a snake could get the best of him.

“Don’t suppose you know a spell to fix broken ribs?” Yato half-heartedly joked, though the thought of protruding ribs was something that could become a possibility. He looked at Hiyori and caught the secret look that passed between her and Yukine.

Yato’s smile slipped. “What’s wrong?”

“There’s another problem,” Yukine said slowly, but the words alone were enough to have a wave of assumptions wash over him in a second.

Yato looked at Hiyori, expecting her to reveal a fatal snake bite she was concealing for his own sake, or that he did indeed have broken ribs. Her eyes snagged on his and she bit her lip.

“My wand broke… when the spell bounced,” Hiyori murmured.

Yato’s heart sank. His spell blew up the room Hiyori’s wand with it – her first and only wand. His mind raced for an answer as he held her gaze, but there was none – a trip down Diagon Alley was out of the question.

Hiyori was unarmed.

~

They moved camp later that day, setting up somewhere in the south where there was little to no snowfall and remote enough that they would be found.

Yato found himself more alert despite his injuries, hyperaware that Hiyori had no way to defend herself. They listened to Kazuma’s radio show; first the list of the dead and snatched, then the true news updates about the Ministry. Kazuma revealed that the Sword of Gryffindor had been relocated from Hogwarts after a failed robbery, but it only disheartened them more to know it was well and truly out of reach. They pushed their stew around their bowls, lost in thought.

When night fell, Yato realised the world had shifted.

After that night in Godric’s Hollow, a silent agreement was made to share each other's company as the winter nights grew longer and colder, and the nightmares of serpents, rotting corpses and death slithered into their dreams.

Yukine pretended not to notice the first time when Hiyori sniffled and quietly slipped out of bed in the dead of night, thinking that he was still asleep. She tiptoed across the creaking wooden slats to Yato’s bed for solstice, finding the single duvet flipped already open for her to crawl in beside him. Her shivering only stopped when she curled up against him and his arm draped over her side, thumb rubbing small, gentle circles on her back as he coaxed her back to sleep.

Twinned with the warmth radiating from under his t-shirt and the steady beat of his heart, dreamless sleep eventually claimed Hiyori. Her fingers loosely clung to his bed shirt as she nuzzled into the deep smell of the boy that held her even closer than he would if she were awake.

When sleep finally claimed Yato, for the first time in weeks there was no vision.

#noragami #noragami aragoto #yato #yukine #hiyori #yatori #hp au #harry potter au #in the darkness

[sneykat]

You matter to me - Dashingfrost fic

Rating: Teen and up audience

Fandom: Thor (Movies)

Pairing: Dashingfrost, Fandroki, Fandral/Loki

Characters: Loki, Fandral, Thor

Tags: Pre-Thor (2011), Romantic Fluff, Fluff, Flirting, Secret Relationship, Loki needs a hug

Summary:        

Loki is sad. Fandral tries to comfort him. All in all a little piece of them referring to their secret relationship and their current feelings.

Notes:    

This is kind of an excerpt of a background story I am imagining for Fandral and Loki in which they share a secret relationship. It is more of a snippet than a real story. It is un-betaed. Sorry, if there are mistakes but English isn't my mother tongue and I haven't found someone willing to beta for me, yet. Aaaand: there will be snow. I wanted some snow to fall in Asgard.

“Thor, your stories are the best of all Asgard! Tell us how you’ve slain the beasts in Vanaheim!”

“Yes, do that, Thor! Wasn’t it in the blink of an eye that you wielded your hammer against their battle hog?!”

“I’ve heard it was your bare fist.”

“I’ve heard Loki assisted you by causing a fire storm.”

The men and women in the ceremonial hall were cutting in on each other in all their excitement about the return of Thor and his warrior friends. Their burning desire to listen to yet another glory story about victory and battle fueled them on. Loki could hear their shrill laughter and the praise from the hallway as he was about to make an entrance. It was Thor’s voice, which stopped him.

“Oh, you know how that works: some do tricks, others fight battles.”

There was mockery and ease in Thor’s amused voice and the joy and pride of a warrior, who was well used to claim the recognition for his achievements. To Loki these words felt like yet another stab, which was causing his heart to wrench in pain and anger. It wasn’t the first time for his brother to deny the importance of the part Loki had played in battle. It had been his magic which had given Thor and the Warrior Three the needed barrier of protection from the enemy to make their attack against the opponents work without getting hurt during battle.

With his own feeling of pride regarding the new magic trick and its success Loki’s mood had been in lighter spirit than usual and against his aversion of taking part in feasts he had had decided to take part in the one held that evening. It proved that once again all it needed was another sting coming from his own brother to ruin his mood.

Loki hoped that no one had noticed his appearance as he quickly slid to the side to hide between two colons.

He felt anger and sadness burn inside of him over the words, which he had overheard without the intent to. The combination of these two feelings was a dangerous mix for it turned into desperation if only it lingered long enough within the heart of a person – and the storms within Loki had had too much time to build up during the last years of constantly feelings of rejection and mockery put upon him. The despair he felt wanted to lure him into giving in to his hate of situations like these and the people who he blamed for them. The young Trickster tried to think about a way of teaching Thor and his audience respect. Nothing fancy. All he wanted was to scare them a little. However, it was hard to come up with a decent thought while tears were burning in one’s eyes and one’s heart was aching.

It was no other than Fandral, the Dashing, who made Loki snap out of his thoughts. He had just excused himself from the celebrating crowd for a moment to take care of his personal business as he caught Loki in his hiding spot. Sure, Loki could trick some people and hide well, but Fandral was an experienced Warrior and he had seen enough of Loki’s games and disguises to fall for a quick attempt of getting out of line.

“I see you are trying to yet again avoid another feast,” he spoke up to Loki with a teasing voice as he was nearing in on him.

Damn Fandral for finding him in a condition like this!

Loki quickly tried to blink away the burning tears as the warrior stepped closer. He bowed and gave Loki a charming smile. “Will you allow me to guide you wherever you plan to leave to?” Fandral’s voice still held a little tone of mockery, but it was also gentle and respectful. It was a mixture only a few men could pull off without being annoying and Loki sighed. “If you must,” he agreed. His acceptance of the offer made Fandral smile and he wrapped his arm around Loki’s lower back way too easy-going for the fact that he was talking to a prince. “I’d like to show you something, Loki.” Since there was no protest coming from the young prince, Fandral took the lead and guided Loki closer to the entrance of the patio farthest away from the celebrating people. Loki was everything but surprised for the warrior to seek a moment of peace for them to share without witnesses.

It was a cold winter’s day and snow had befallen the Realm of The Gods. On contrary to Jotunheim there still was a golden glow above the layers of snow which were covering the land. Loki adored the scenery of winter in Asgard. It made Asgard’s beauty look even brighter and, in a way, also more peaceful.

Once they had stepped out of the warm hallway Fandral took the fur he was wearing off his shoulders to place it around Loki’s. It wasn’t like Loki would feel cold but Fandral was a gentleman regarding things like these and he also felt responsible for the wellbeing of the princes when he was hanging out with them. He felt especially protective of the younger prince. Loki knew about that and he didn’t protest but rather accepted the act of kindness. Fandral gently pulled on Loki’s shoulders to make him turn around and face him. He then cupped the prince’s cheeks with his warm hands and gently wiped the barely visible trace of tears from Loki’s eyes with his thumbs.

“What has caused these tears, my dear?” Fandral asked gentle-voiced and looked directly at Loki while he was waiting for an answer. He knew the young prince. He knew that he hated feasts like the one celebrated tonight but a brief glance at Loki’s well-chosen attire had proved that the Trickster indeed had planned on attending the celebration anyway. While it was common for Loki to hide whenever he felt like it, it was uncommon to do it in a not very thought through way like in which Fandral had found him.

Loki gave a little sigh as he pondered about what to say. He didn’t want to reject Fandral, but he also wasn’t very fond of portraying himself as vulnerable.

“You stink,” was the answer of choice he came up with and Fandral chuckled. “I’ve had some mead as you would well expect me to during a celebration like this,” the blonde man replied kind of unimpressed, yet with a tone of affection. “If you will excuse me for a moment, I will get you a fair share of it, too. It tastes wonderful tonight. It is an exceptionally fine serving of your father’s distillery.” Loki considered the offer for a moment and nodded his agreement a few seconds later. Fandral gave him a bright smile. “I’ll be right back, my prince.” Again, he bowed before he left both – the patio and Loki.

Upon Fandral’s return his arms were packed with furs, blankets and a basket. He gave Loki yet another bright smile. “If you would follow me, my dear.” He took the lead and Loki did follow as Fandral was searching for a quiet corner, well hidden among some sculptures, flowerpots and snowed in bushes. On a bench which was carved into marvel walls he created a warm nest for them and gave Loki a smile as he reached out his hand to offer it to the Trickster. Loki accepted the invitation and let Fandral guide him to take a seat on the furs. The warrior took his seat close to Loki and wrapped them up in the blankets and furs before he pulled a candle holder from the basket. He attached a fitting candle. Loki noticed very well that it was one of the candle holders from the ceremonial hall. He grinned and so did Fandral.

“I’ll return it later,” he promised, and Loki chuckled. “I don’t mind you stealing from my father.” “I would never steal from anyone,” Fandral emphasized and Loki chuckled. “I know. But you would borrow a candle holder if you would want to impress your date.” “If that means that you are willing to be my date for tonight, I will have to agree.” Fandral smirked and it was the kind of behavior which made Loki’s spirit rise again.

“You are way too desperate for my attention, dear Fandral,” it was Loki’s voice which held a mocking tone but also a hint of affection by then. He used his magic to light the candle and it was enough of an answer for both.

With a smile on his lips Fandral poured them some mead from one of the bottles. “Not only a candle holder but also mead and festive cups,” Loki noticed seemingly amused. “You deserve the best, my dear.” Fandral laughed and Loki watched him with a gaze, which was brighter than he would want to admit. They clanged glasses and Fandral brought his lips close to Loki’s ear to whisper right into it: “You are not less of a prince than your brother, Loki.”

Fandral had quite a good guess on what had made Loki feel upset earlier on and he disliked seeing the young prince troubled so all he wanted to do was to help him get back to a more cheerful spirit.

“You better tell Thor and my father,” Loki replied bitter-voiced. “Thor can be mean and selfish if he brags about his achievements in battle, and your father will see how wonderful his youngest son truly is,” Fandral replied and added a hesitant “eventually” after he had noticed Loki skeptically raising his eyebrow. Loki pressed his lips together for a moment. He then raised his cup and had a sip from the mead, closing his eyes as the wonderful warmth and sweetness spread in his mouth and his throat.

Fandral kept on watching the young prince. He knew a troubled and pained expression if he saw one and even more one of a young man who tried to drown his worries in alcohol.

“You know that Thor’d rip your head off your well-defined shoulders if he’d figure out how much you’re trying to get into my pants,” Loki spoke up eventually. The usage of contractions usually indicated that Loki was beginning to either be drunk or be in too much inner turmoil to still care for a more formal usage of language.

“I rely on my trust in you and the idea that you probably won’t give away our secret after all we’ve been through,” Fandral whispered into Loki’s ear as he started to nibble on the prince’s earlobe.

“I don’t know who is playing with whom any longer,” Loki admitted after he had another sip from the delicious mead.

“I can assure you, that I will never play with you, my prince. It was in all honesty when I told you I’d wait until you have made up your mind about how far you want to go with me.”

Loki felt how gently Fandral was playing with his hair. The warrior let his digits cart through the hair tips on Loki’s neck and did not hesitate to caress as much of his skin as he could reach. He noticed how his prince leant into the touch with the slightest of movements. It had been like that for a while: both sharing intimate gestures, which often resulted in Fandral trying to cheer Loki up. He held honest feelings for the young prince, and he was sure that Loki too had feelings for him. It seemed a lot harder for Loki to admit to them, but Fandral could live with that. If the warrior could be close to Loki, he did not care about hiding what they shared from the rest of the world.

“Sometimes I feel like you’re the only one who understands me, Fan,” Loki sighed. Fandral noticed the usage of the nickname Loki accentuated as sweetly as no women he had ever bedded. He loved it when Loki relaxed enough to turn into his softer and more open self.

“It is not easy to understand the complexity of your mind, my dear, but I sure notice when you’re not feeling well.” “How? How is it you notice when no one else does?” “Because you look beautiful even when you’re sad and I cannot take my eyes off you.”

Fandral’s words reached Loki’s heart and his lips turned into a little smile. “You really think that”, Loki replied. He had understood that much during all the time they had shared together. “Yes, I do. And I always will think that. You are most beautiful, my prince.”

“Will you ever stop courting me?”

A soft laughter from Fandral was the reply to Loki’s question and he held him a little tighter. “No. Unless you want me to.”

“I don’t want that.”

“Well, in this case, my prince, I will never get tired of telling you that you mean the world to me.”

“Will you tell me about this when I forget?”

“You will hear it as often as you need to.”

Loki watched how fresh snow started to dance from the sky. He wondered whether his soul would ever come to find peace. Meanwhile Fandral wondered about his beloved prince. He was concerned about him. Loki’s loneliness seemed so big and consuming that he could only hope that the young prince would find a way out of his misery someday. Fandral was willing to help as much as he could but it was not the first time, they shared a moment like this, and he had understood that a lot of what troubled Loki came from within the prince himself. Fandral could not take away Loki’s pain but he might as well help to soothe it.

After a while of just sitting together without a word spoken, it eventually was Loki who found his voice first.

“If I’d ask you to sleep with me tonight, would you?”

Fandral took a deep breath at that question. He had waited for bedding Loki for so long that naturally he wanted to push forward. However, he also knew about the meaning this question had for Loki.

“I would. If that is what you genuinely want. It is your first time after all and the alcohol…”

Fandral could not finish his sentence for Loki put his fingertip over his lips and watched him so intensely that he felt like his stomach would jump up and down.

“I want someone to make me feel like I matter,” Loki tried to explain. He seemed somewhat embarrassed as he spoke. Fandral started to smile and he gently grabbed Loki’s wrist to take his fingertip of his lips. He held Loki’s hand and placed a tender kiss on its back.

“I will prove how much you matter to me, my prince, and I’ll make sure you’ll never forget about it.”

 ***

the end

#pre-thor #fandroki #dashingfrost #fandral #loki #fandral/loki #fic #loki needs a hug

[jojal-jojalkorean]

Korean Culture - K-pop

Hi! 안녕하세요. This is Admin Na. And today I’m going to talk about K-pop.

What is K-pop?

K-pop is Korean pop music which is not only popular in Korea but also worldwide.

K-Pop has plenty of music genres such as idol, pop, soul, etc, which also supported also by a music video, choreography, fashion nested Korean living life… and so on.

Nowadays, all of these elements makes k-pop not only for music but also a Korean tremendous culture itself.

K-pop's history

K-Pop was failing to produce any tangible results in the U.S.(which is a strong cultural country) market at first. Korea's big agencies wanted to enter the U.S. market based on K-Pop's global popularity.

JYP,  one of the three major agencies in Korea, pushed for RAIN(비)'s performance at Madison Square Garden in February 2006 to sell out all the seats. The Korean media analyzed that the development of the Internet has allowed young Asian people in the U.S. to join the Korean Wave as they have access to music and performances of their choice anywhere in the world.

RAIN(2006)

Since then, singer BoA hit the U.S. market in 2008, Wonder Girls in 2009 and Girls' Generation in 2012. For Girls' Generation, their appearances on CBS' flagship "Late Show" and ABC channel's morning show "Live, with Kelly" drew enthusiastic responses from the audience. Still, the K-Pop had not achieved successful results, with the North American assessment that it is rather light and insufficient. In short, no K-pop singer had so far achieved solid success in the U.S. market.

BoA(2008)

Wonder Girls(2009)

Girls Generation(2012)

However, in mid-2012, singer Psy's "Gangnam Style" led the U.S. wave, starring in major programs such as NBC's "Ellen Show," "Today Show" and "Saturday Night Live," and showed off its popularity by performing joint performances with global pop stars Madonna and MC Hammer. It also ranked second on the Billboard Hot 100 chart, making it the first case to make inroads into the U.S.

Psy(2012)

The popularity of Psy has drawn keen attention from major local media, which has led to attention to K-Pop as a whole. The Washington Post reported that "Gangnam Style" is strengthening the Korean brand, and if you look at it, it said, 'As foreigners become interested in Korean singers, they will be able to buy more Korean products.'

ABC News' 'Nightline' also introduced the birth process of K-Pop stars, saying that 'K-Pop's addictive hook song, swift dance, and training programs are the factors behind its success.' It also reported that K-Pop is gaining popularity in America and that the enthusiasm to learn Hangul to enjoy Korean pop culture continues.

Popular k-pop these days

시작: start- Go

문득: suddenly- Noel

새로고침: refresh- Kyung Park

WANNABE- ITZY

어떻게 지내: how's by you?- OVEN

ON- BTS

돌덩이: rock- guckkasten

그때 그 아인: the child at the time- Feel Kim

마음을 드려요: I give you my heart- IU

화분: flowerpot- SEJONG

아무 노래: any song- ZICO

Sweet Night- V

METEOR- CHANGE

- Written by Admin Na

- Edited by Admin Yu

#korean #korea #kpop #korean culture #kpop history #culture #한국 #문화 #케이팝 #Admin Na