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  • lifewasradical
    12.06.2021 - 6 minutes ago

    when the world stopped last week, I just wanted you to hold me (cake)

    “I’m nervous for you.” Calum’s voice is hesitant, like he isn’t sure what lines he’s allowed to cross. Luke’s hand finds his under the sheet.
    “I am too.”
    Or, night time is the best time to spill the thoughts that keep Luke up.

    words: 2.1k

    tw: depression and angst, see ao3 for more. there's quite a few tags on this one.

    read on ao3: here

    #cake fic#5sos fic#5sos fanfic #there's a lot going on in this one so read at your own risk #just a biggggggg drop of thoughts and emotions #when did I start writing emo cake instead of emo lashton? who knows #I had one line in my head earlier and I started typing it on my phone and ended up with 2k of weird angst #Luke is Struggling but its fine we're fine everything is fine #angsty Amanda is back again #I miss writing horrible stuff like this; I used to have so much fun writing pain #and on that note- I'm gonna go now #Amanda writes
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  • petrodactyl-352
    12.06.2021 - 8 minutes ago


    Fandom: Castlevania (Netflix Series)

    Relationship(s): Trevor/Sypha/Alucard

    Word Count: 5,538


    “It’s been a long time since there was a child in this castle,” Alucard says softly, and when Trevor looks over at him he sees his golden gaze resting tenderly on Sypha’s stomach, as if he can see through it to the little life sleeping inside her. The look in his eyes is part nostalgia and part sadness, and Trevor knows he’s thinking back to when he had been that child. Before everything had been torn apart. “Since a baby’s cries have echoed through the halls here.”

    “Well,” Sypha says, her voice gentle and adoring as she looks at him, “then it’s fitting that it should be our child, don’t you think?”

    His eyes snap up to meet hers. “Our child,” he repeats. The words are spoken quietly, as if he doesn’t quite believe them. “Ours?”


    Sypha has a relatively easy pregnancy—or at least as easy as swollen feet, morning sickness, aches and pains and odd cravings can possibly be.

    Of course she’s doted on by everyone in the whole village; it seems that the people consider pregnant women to be lucky, or blessed. It seems that to them, having life inside you is the ultimate sign of creation, calling pregnancy the act of a woman channeling God. Or something like that. Trevor was never really big on these things. All he cares about is that inside Sypha’s swollen belly is something he had a part in bringing to life. That child is his, in blood and bone. It’s a feeling that is so incredibly overwhelming that sometimes he has to stop in his tracks, lean against a wall and catch his breath. Fucking hell, he’s going to be a father soon.

    And it’s never more apparent than when Sypha sometimes stiffens and winces, the surprise and pain on her face softening into a smile whenever she feels the baby kicking. She always takes Trevor’s hand and guides it to her stomach so he can feel it, the earth-shattering reality of it all; his child is alive inside Sypha, their child. Kicking away in there like true Belmont spawn, as Alucard always says with amusement and affection glittering in his eyes. It’s a weird feeling, one that almost never fails to make him choke up a little bit. Alucard always teases him about that, but even that’s gentle, with no real bite behind it. He, on the other hand, always rests his head on Sypha’s stomach to hear the baby’s heartbeat, a slow smile spreading across his face whenever he does. He presses adoring kisses to her skin and murmurs to it as if it can hear him, about how loved it is and how much they’re going to spoil it. Sypha laughs every time, shaking her head with her fingers in Alucard’s hair as she pulls him up for a kiss. It’s steady, this thing between the three of them. Steadier than he thought he’d be able to be a part of. But getting used to it is easy, and he’d never have it any other way.

    The villagers shower her with gifts, little baby clothes and rattles and good-luck charms to hang over the cradle. But nobody dotes on her more than Trevor, Alucard and Greta do. There’s a lot of running to get her pickles or cheese with peppers or bread with vinegar at the oddest hours, and more than a fair share of doing things before she can even ask; rubbing her feet, combing her hair, massaging her aching shoulders. Greta forbids her to help carry things and gather food and water after four months or so, insisting on taking her on long walks to get fresh air every other day instead. They always set off in the evenings, arm in arm, talking and laughing with their heads bent together, Sypha’s short, bouncy strawberry curls and Greta’s longer, straight dark tresses disappearing into the trees.

    “Us women have to stick together,” Greta tells him one day, a beatific gleam in her eyes. “Otherwise we’ll go mad with only you boys to talk to.”

    Which leaves Trevor and Alucard to kill the time that they’re gone for, which suits Trevor just fine.

    He’s still hesitant about more intimate physical contact, but neither he nor Sypha mind it. They’re willing to wait as long as he needs to familiarize himself with it all, leave the memories behind till they fade away completely. Alucard looks desperately grateful every time he pulls back with ghosts in his eyes, his face going white, stuttering out apology after apology and they tell him that it’s all right, that they’re there, that they can wait. That there’s nothing to apologize for and that they love him. And every time, he gives them that little smile Trevor has noticed he saves just for them and ducks his head to kiss them and tells them he loves them too. Trevor doesn’t think he’ll ever tire of hearing either of them say it. It feels like the first time, every time.

    God, he’s turned into such a sap. Peace and happiness have made him go soft.

    He doesn’t mind it, somehow.

    He’s sitting on the kitchen table presently, hands braced behind him and absently swinging his legs. Sypha and Greta had left for their walk about an hour ago, and Alucard is at the counter, kneading soft floury bread dough, all his focus directed on the methodical task. There’s another loaf in the oven, baking slowly. The rich, mouth-watering smell fills the whole kitchen, making the cool evening air a little warmer. There’s a little V between Alucard’s brows, and his tongue is poking out of the corner of his mouth. He looks completely unselfconscious, absorbed in the rhythmic movements of it, barely even acknowledging that Trevor is there.

    Well, too bad. Because he’s bored.

    He hops off the table, sidling up behind Alucard and putting his arms around his waist and leaning to nuzzle into his neck. Alucard jumps, then half-turns his head. “Trevor, what are you doing?” he asks, trying to sound stern but ruining the effect by being obviously secretly pleased.

    “Nothing,” says Trevor innocently, turning to place a slow path of kisses along the side of his throat. He feels Alucard shiver.

    “Trevor,” he says, half-breathless. “I’m a little busy, if you hadn’t noticed.”

    “Mmm.” He nips gently at Alucard’s ear and he sees his fingers digging into the bread dough a little more forcefully than is necessary. He allows himself a little grin, moving a little closer so that he’s standing flush against Alucard’s back now, his body a lithe, hard line against Trevor’s front. “So stop being busy, then.”

    “Someone’s needy this evening.” He turns in the circle of Trevor’s arms, eyes glittering with amusement. “What do you want, Belmont?”

    “You, if that wasn’t obvious.” His arms tighten around Alucard’s waist and without warning he lifts him onto the counter, stepping into the space between his knees. His hands go automatically to Trevor’s shoulders to steady himself, a surprised little sound escaping his lips. He raises a brow coyly, and then Trevor feels his long legs wrap around his hips, making him stumble closer. “Well, if you insist, then you can have me,” he purrs, arms twining around his neck, and then he draws Trevor close and kisses him.

    Trevor smiles against his mouth, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. Alucard hums in a satisfied sort of way, ankles locking behind the small of Trevor’s back. He seems uncaring that there’s bread flour everywhere, on his hands and on the counter he’s perched on. He’s warm and smells of butter and sugar and wine. He tastes like it too and Trevor chases it, parting Alucard’s lips with his own and licking into his mouth to gather it. Alucard moans between his lips, his hands flying up to frame Trevor’s face, fingers cupping the back of his neck and tugging at his hair.

    He presses Alucard back against the counter, his own hands sliding beneath the loose hem of his shirt to encounter smooth skin and shifting muscles. He feels a pleased sigh, warm against his mouth before Alucard pulls back just the barest fraction of an inch. He feels his long lashes brush against the tops of cheeks as he tilts his head, his tongue tracing slowly across Trevor’s bottom lip as if to taste his skin. A slow shiver creeps up Trevor’s spine, and his breath stutters out unevenly. He feels Alucard smile against his lips and then his teeth close over where his tongue had just been, pain and pleasure spreading from the bite and mixing deliciously, curdling low and hot in his belly.

    Alucard’s fingers slide down, skimming over his sides. He leans in oh so slowly, and Trevor tilts his head up to meet his lips in an unhurried, openmouthed kiss. It feels like embers coming to life, darker than fire but hotter somehow, more searing. The next few minutes are a slow tangle of hands in each other’s hair and tongues in each other’s mouths, muffling the sounds of their pleasure in the negligible space between their lips and heat all over him and all around him, in his blood and on his skin.

    The smell of smoke cuts through the haze of warmth and nearness and Alucard in his head, and both of them pull away at the same time. “Shit,” Alucard mutters, and then Trevor’s arms are falling away from him as he steps back and Alucard jumps from the counter and scrambles over to the oven, yanking it open.

    He sets the slightly charred loaf onto the table, shaking his head with a bemused smile on his face. His hair is disheveled, his shirt is rucked up till his stomach and his cheeks are flushed a hectic pink. He looks thoroughly ravished, Trevor thinks, trying to hide how pleased that makes him. There are floury handprints all over his own clothes, and a rapidly swelling bruise on his lower lip. It’s beginning to sting a little, but he doesn’t think he’d be able to care less if he tried.

    “It’s not too burned, is it?” he asks, leaning over the table to get a better look at it. Alucard shakes his head. “No, but I’m still blaming you for it.”

    “Well, I’ll valiantly shoulder the immense weight of that blame,” Trevor says, deadpan, dusting the flour off his shirt. “I regret it so much.”

    “Idiot,” Alucard says affectionately, then turns back to the dough that had been lying forgotten on the counter beside him until now. “If you’re just going to stand around and tempt me you might as well make yourself useful elsewhere,” he goes on, his back now to Trevor. “I can’t have you in here distracting me anymore, can I? Otherwise I’ll never get this over with.”

    “Depends on if you want to get distracted,” Trevor mutters, tonguing the cut on his lip to gauge the damage of the bite. It tastes raw—any harder and it’d have broken the skin. It’ll heal up in a day or two, he thinks dismissively.

    “Go on, shoo,” Alucard says. “Sypha and Greta will be back soon, and someone has to be around once Greta leaves for her own duties. It might as well be you, since you clearly have nothing better to do.”

    “I don’t know,” Trevor says, moving to the counter. “I can think of a few things…”

    Alucard turns his head and allows one quick kiss before nudging him out of the way with a hip. “Okay, now fuck off, Belmont,” he says, turning back to the bread.

    “All right, all right, I’m going.” He withdraws regretfully, making his way out of the kitchen. He stretches, sighing as he moves toward the open doors of the castle. The sky has sprung out in the bizarre shades of sunset—deep amber, soft lilac, vivid azure, pale rose. He stops on the top step, not quite outside and not quite inside. It smells like wood char and straw and pine needles, a smell he’s come to associate with the village. Belmont. He feels a strange sort of smile twist his lips as he thinks about it. He still can’t quite decide if it’s ironic or poetic that they’ve decided to name this place after his family name, build something new and good and beautiful on top of something old and dead and full of tragedy. But most of all it just feels right, like this is bigger than all of them somehow. Honoring something more than just a name. Honoring a purpose, honoring an age-old pact between his family and the land they defended. We will protect you, and you will nurture us.

    He jogs down the steps, feeling the grass and the gravel crunching beneath his boots as he moves between the houses that they’ve built over the last eight months. It’s still not fully built, but it’s starting to come together quickly. In less than a year this will be thriving, teeming land. Filled to the brim and pulsing with life. He’s not entirely sure if new inhabitants and settlers will want to come here, owing to the enormous macabre structure of Dracula’s castle—or Alucard’s castle, technically—looming over it all, but that’s probably an issue that they’ll have to deal with in the future.

    “Trevor!” He turns to see Greta and Sypha a few paces behind him, Greta with a protective arm around Sypha’s shoulders. Sypha had stopped protesting about the constant fussing over her something like two months ago, allowing them to take care of her, probably because that was when it began to take a genuine toll on her body. He closes the distance between them in two strides, holding a hand out. Automatically Sypha moves into the circle of his arm, sighing as she leans against him. He takes her weight, propping her up with a careful arm around her waist.

    “Tired?” he murmurs, and she shrugs. “A little. But Greta took good care of me.”

    “As always.” He and Greta exchange a quick smile. “Least I could do,” she says breezily. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.” She looks towards where the town square is being constructed. “I have some things to see to.” And before they can say anything in reply she swoops down to peck Sypha’s cheek, then hurries off. They watch her go, both a little bemused. A village headwoman’s work is never done, he supposes.

    “She’s doing so much,” Sypha sighs as they head back to the castle. “We should do something for her once the baby is here.”

    “We should.” He turns to look at her. “How are you feeling?”

    “I’m fine,” she says, waving a dismissive hand. “Besides the fact that I feel as if there is a bag of boulders attached to my stomach, of course. Other than that—along with my feet and my aching joints and the fact that I am always hungry no matter the time of day, not to mention my breasts are swollen and sore—I’m doing spectacularly.”

    “Just another few weeks,” Trevor reassures her, rubbing her back as they climb the steps. “Then you’ll be free.”

    “I suppose,” she sighs. “But then comes motherhood.” She smiles a little. “But I have to say I’m looking forward to that bit.”

    Trevor pushes the kitchen door open, and Alucard turns to them as they enter, his face immediately softening into that familiar little smile. “How are you feeling?” he asks, striding forward to take Sypha’s hands in his and lift them to his lips, courteous and gentlemanly as ever. She smiles, leaning up on her tiptoes to peck his lips. “I’m fine,” she says. “Just a little tired, that’s all.”

    “Let’s sit, then.” He herds them all into chairs, handing Sypha a warm slice of buttered bread as he does. She shakes her head with a grin, looking up at him. “You spoil me, you know that?”

    “I know.” He sits across from her, still smiling softly. “As I should, I might add.”

    “As you all should,” Sypha says, probably trying to sound aloof and lofty, but her mouthful of soft bread rather ruins the effect. She swallows, then sighs. “They have quite the appetite,” she says, looking down at her stomach. She looks just about ready to pop, nearly nine months into the pregnancy now. It’s disconcerting but endearing, petite Sypha with her skinny arms and skinny legs with eight and a half months’ worth of a pregnant belly. There’s a perpetual healthy glow in her cheeks and a brightness in her eyes that makes her look radiant all the time, even when she’s tired or vomiting. The villagers call it God’s grace. Alucard calls it increased blood volume and changes in hormone levels. Trevor doesn’t know what to call it, nor does he care—it makes her look healthy and happy and beautiful, and that’s good enough for him.

    “It’s been a long time since there was a child in this castle,” Alucard says softly, and when Trevor looks over at him he sees his golden gaze resting tenderly on Sypha’s stomach, as if he can see through it to the little life sleeping inside her. The look in his eyes is part nostalgia and part sadness, and Trevor knows he’s thinking back to when he had been that child. Before everything had been torn apart. “Since a baby’s cries have echoed through the halls here.”

    “Well,” Sypha says, her voice gentle and adoring as she looks at him, “then it’s fitting that it should be our child, don’t you think?”

    His eyes snap up to meet hers. “Our child,” he repeats. The words are spoken quietly, as if he doesn’t quite believe them. “Ours?”

    “Yes, ours.” She reaches across the table to take his hand. “All of ours. It might be a Belmont and a Belnades by name and by blood, but family means far more than just blood, and it runs far deeper. And you will be their family, Alucard. All three of us will be.” She reaches for Trevor’s hand and he reaches for Alucard’s, linking the three of them in a loose circle, one with no beginning and no ending.

    His gaze finds Trevor, and it softens at what he sees there. “Our child,” he says again, softly. The words hang in the air between them, filling it with a warmth that has nothing to do with the roaring fire in the grate or the heat spilling from the open oven. And with those words and the warmth they bring suffusing the space between them and the air in their lungs, they keep their silence.


    The fiery tongues of the bonfire leap high into the air, red and orange and yellow tipped with blue. It’s hypnotically beautiful, watching it writhe and pulse with the wind and its own strange magic. Trevor has always had an odd relationship with fire; he had watched it devour his home and his family, but it had also kept him warm on freezing winter nights, had been a source of light in the woods in the dead of night, the only thing that had kept him alive.

    This is neither. It’s warm and keeps the night’s chill at bay, but it’s less about that and more about the symbolism of it all.

    They gather like this every fortnight, all the villagers and he and Alucard and Sypha. They light a bonfire, one made of old wood and soiled cloth, spare oil and whatever fumes they can find. They sit and stand around it in a loose ring, watching it jump higher and higher until it towers above them all, a pillar of flames. The women all link hands and sing sometimes, high keening mournful chants, every beat punctuated with a clap. It’s hauntingly beautiful, and though he doesn’t understand the language they sing in or what the song is about it makes him oddly nostalgic, makes him remember the time when he’d been a child and his mother had sung lullabies to him in French as he fell asleep in her arms, soft and sad.

    He’s sitting in one of the rickety chairs the people have dragged onto the plain, Sypha sitting cross-legged on the ground, leaning against Alucard’s chest, who’s sitting with his back braced against Trevor’s legs. His long pale fingers comb carefully through Sypha’s hair, fluffing the flame-colored locks between his hands till they spring free in adorable curls. Her eyes are open, reflecting the column of flames high above. Trevor is fiddling with Alucard’s hair too, tucking and twisting the lustrous, voluminous golden locks under each other into a thick braid that hangs halfway down his back. It’s syrupy and peaceful and he feels like he’s floating untethered in space, time stretching out interminably and turning meaningless.

    He sees Sypha tense against Alucard’s body, sees Alucard tense too, his shoulders immediately forming a rigid line as he leans forward towards her. “What’s wrong?” he hears him ask, and Sypha says something into his ear that’s lost in the crackle and the soundless roar of the fire. Alucard turns and looks back at Trevor, the flames dancing in his eyes, and says, “Trevor, the baby is coming.”

    His heart stops for a second, then resumes beating so quickly he feels like he’s going to explode. “What? Now?”

    “Yes, now. Come on, we have to get back to the castle.”

    Which is how, ten minutes later he finds himself standing in the same room he’d been asleep in for a month, twisting his hands together and tapping his feet because he’s filled with adrenaline but there’s nothing to expend it on, no packs of night creatures and no vampires, no portals to hell and no personification and physical form of Death to whip or punch or kill. He doesn’t quite know what to do with himself and all the energy that’s suddenly poured into his blood. He isn’t ready to be a father yet—or is he? He doesn’t know.

    There are a few midwives, only two or three. Sypha had insisted that Alucard be the one to deliver the child, and after she had tentatively asked him if he would, he’d been more than obliging, lifting her off her feet to spin her around and kiss her and telling her of course, of course I’ll do it. He supposes it involves a certain degree of vulnerability, and it had been a mark of how much she trusted him to be there that she had even asked. He’d seen her hesitation even when she’d been adamant that it be Alucard, how she had thrust her chin in the air and crossed her arms, her whole body conveying that insecure obstinacy that he knew so well.

    She’s still walking around, determined to stay active for as long as she can before the contractions start in earnest. Alucard is moving rapidly around the room, readying everything and barking orders to the scuttling midwives with the practiced, efficient air of someone who actually knows what he’s doing. Good thing at least one of them does. He’s shifted into full doctor mode, his hair tied back from his face in a knot at the back of his head and his shirtsleeves rolled up and his whole demeanor exuding a sort of clinical authority. He’s moving around constantly, never stilling or stopping. Trevor feels tired just watching him.

    An hour later Sypha sits on the bed, her face shining with sweat, her cheeks flushed candy-apple red. “I can’t walk around for another moment,” she says, wiping her forehead. Trevor sits beside her, tucking a wayward curl of strawberry blonde behind her ear. “What can I do to help?”

    She puts her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes. “Will you read to me?”

    “Yeah, of course.” He drops a kiss onto her head, standing to retrieve one of the books they keep in their bedroom, courtesy of Alucard. He keeps bringing them in from the library and forgetting to put them back, so a steady pile of them has accumulated on chairs and tables and even on the floor. He selects one of the volumes lying on the desk—a collection of short fables that’s dog-eared and fraying at the edges with age. It seems weirdly fitting, somehow.

    He sits back down beside Sypha and opens the book, starting to read the first short story. She’s entirely still, just listening as he reads, not saying anything or moving at all. Eventually it grows monotonous and lulling, his eyes moving over the pages and his lips shaping the words aloud, Sypha breathing beside him and Alucard still rummaging around in the bathroom and muttering to himself about hot water.

    He’s halfway through the tenth story when Sypha gasps.

    Alucard materializes in front of them in a flash of red just as Trevor whips his head around to look at her. “Sypha?”

    She places a hand on her stomach, a sudden flash of pain blooming across her face. “I think the contractions have started,” she says weakly.

    “Bed. Now.” Alucard sweeps off as Trevor kneels to help Sypha take her shoes off. She wriggles onto the bed and leans back against the headboard, her pinched, pale face nervous but determined. Trevor dutifully moves to stand next to her, taking her hand. He still doesn’t know if he’s ready or not. He tries not to think about it too much.

    Alucard moves to Sypha’s other side, brushing her sweaty hair out of her eyes and swooping down to place a soft kiss on her cheek. “I know it sounds really difficult,” he says, a hand under her chin to tilt up her face towards his, “and it will feel beyond painful, but you’re going to have to start pushing soon.”

    She nods, resolute.

    “All right,” Alucard says, standing at the foot of the bed as Sypha releases a breath and spreads her legs. “You appear to be sufficiently dilated.” He checks the clock on the wall, then turns back to Sypha. “Okay, Sypha, start pushing.”

    An hour and half later, along with a lot of screaming, cursing and Trevor’s fingers being completely crushed in Sypha’s death grip, Alucard straightens and stands at last, holding a wrinkly little red thing that’s screaming its tiny lungs out. He’s staring down at it, wonder and awe and total, utter joy etched into every line of his face. “It’s a girl,” he says softly.

    He moves around to the side of the bed and carefully lowers the babe into Sypha’s waiting arms, and all three of them stare down at her, still screaming and wailing with her little eyes screwed shut. The little tuft of hair at the crown of her head is black—the same color as Trevor’s. She’s the most beautiful thing Trevor has ever seen in his whole life. The most beautiful thing he’ll ever see. Nothing will ever compare to this one moment, seeing his little girl for the first time.

    “She’s perfect,” Sypha breathes, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. “She’s so perfect.”

    Sypha looks up at him then, with stars and planets and entire universes in her eyes, smiling at him. And when she hands him their child and he holds her in his arms for the first time he thinks his heart may well give out. He wonders how he ever thought he hadn’t been ready for this; she fits so perfectly into his arms, feels so small and soft, and holding her feels like he’d always been waiting for this moment but hadn’t even realized it until now. She’s so tiny, so delicate. He’s going to give her everything, going to spoil her and do anything for her. He already knows it.

    He stares down at her as she quiets slowly, her cries turning into soft gurgles. She opens her eyes and looks up at him—Sypha’s eyes, bluer than the sea in midsummer. God, he would die for her already.

    “What should we name her?” Alucard asks quietly, and Sypha glances up at him, fatigue making her shoulders slump as she sits back against the headboard. She says, tentatively, “I… I thought we might name her Lisa.”

    Alucard freezes for a moment—and then he smiles a little, wistfully. “I thought that too,” he says. “But I don’t think that suits her. Not this little girl; she’s a Belmont through and through.” He reaches out to touch her little hand, and her fingers immediately curl around his. “Maybe we’ll save that name for the next one.”

    “I don’t want to think about pushing another child out right now,” Sypha laughs weakly. Then she turns to him, raising an expectant brow. “Trevor?”

    He sits by Sypha’s side, still staring down at his little girl. Their little girl. It’s enough to make a swell of some foreign emotion press against the back of his throat, making it hard to swallow. “Isabelle,” he says, so quietly even he himself hardly hears it. That would have been the name of his little niece, the niece his oldest sister Nina had been seven and a half months pregnant with when the fire took her, had taken all of them. He had loved the idea of her at twelve years old even if she hadn’t even been born yet, her little hands and her little feet and her huge Belmont blue eyes. He’d loved the idea of loving her, and then he had lost her, she had been torn from him so cruelly—all of them had been torn from him. He still feels it sometimes, the raw pain of it, like it had happened yesterday. A phantom limb aching and reminding him of what he’d lost, with him because he is without them, always. A ghost he’ll never be able to exorcise.

    But naming his daughter after a little girl who never even had the chance to exist, naming her for the tragedy that had taken his family away; taking the horror of it all and making something out of it that’s newer, whole and good, something innocent and full of life that has a future—it’s a start.

    “Isabelle Belmont,” Sypha says, and it sounds—it sounds right. “It’s a beautiful name.”

    All three of them gaze down at little Isabelle, gurgling and blinking wide blue eyes at them, and if either Sypha or Alucard notice the tears on his face they don’t mention it, don’t say anything. They just hold each other and look at their daughter, a world of possibility and hope in her little form. Looking at her is looking at a sunrise—his eyes searing with the brutal golden light of something new, something beautiful. And he doesn’t know what will come after this, but right now everything is right, everything is as it should be. It’s bright and blinding and it feels like a new beginning, a new day.

    And whatever comes next will come next, and all he can do is meet it when it does.


    There’s a lot of happiness everywhere, more than he’s used to.

    He finds it in the oddest places, creeping up on him and curling between his ribs, into his lungs and into his blood, anchoring itself into his bones. He finds it in the burnished golden locks of Alucard’s hair against his fingers when he braids it down his back, remembering his sisters and how they’d taught him how to plait grass to make crowns they wore in their long hair. He finds it in the songs that the women of the village take up, the beautiful chants that echo across the fields, making the flames of the bonfires they light flicker and cast dramatic shadows across the ground. He finds it in the sweat on his back and the soreness in his muscles when he helps the men build the village from the foundations up, the laughter and the stories they exchange and the odd realization that he has more in common with them than he’d thought. He finds it in Sypha’s pealing laughter as he tries to teach her how to dance, standing on his feet as they both stumble around the room, giggling. And he finds it here, now, in the little fingers of his baby girl, the way they clutch his own like a lifeline.

    He lets it find him, lets it fill him up till he feels like he’s overflowing with it, an empty, drought-stricken riverbed ill-prepared for a downpour like this. Happiness takes time to get used to, just as suffering does—live with it long enough, and you learn to like the taste. But maybe that chapter of his life is over now. Maybe now is a time for joy and love, and building something that will last for generations and generations, preserved in blood and stone.

    Because when he looks at his daughter, when he looks at Isabelle—clutching fistfuls of Greta’s dark hair as she winces and Alucard laughs, grabbing at Sypha’s fingers when she reaches down to touch her cheeks, grinning wide gummy grins at Trevor when he picks her up and kisses her little face—he thinks that maybe this life is the life he is meant to be living. A fulfilling one, a happy one. And so comes snow after fire, and every nightmare ends with waking up safe and warm in your bed.

    And after being alone and scared and angry, after always looking over his shoulder for so long, it feels strange to look around and look inside himself and think—and know—that he is home.

    But there are far, far worse things to get used to. And he knows that while it’ll still take time, he can wait. And until then, until the nightmares fade and the horror stories of his past become just stories again, he can breathe and he can live, and maybe—just maybe—that will be enough.


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  • mereth
    12.06.2021 - 8 minutes ago

    Back to writing

    Or at least trying to. It seems stopping for a couple of weeks because life and work isn’t leaving you any creativity left means that, when you try to use your only day off to write, it isn’t flowing as well as you’d like.

    Endings are always the trickiest part for me, so this last chapter of Maneras de Amar is going to be a struggle, I can already tell. This writing break I had to take against my will isn’t helping either.

    I do know what I want to write in this last chapter, what few things Bruno and Pol need to experience before I can decide I’m done so that’s something at least. The problem is writing them.

    I’m absolutely frustrated and I’m sorry about any delays I’ll have on posting

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  • novasdarling
    12.06.2021 - 10 minutes ago

    Dabi simps be like:

    #smut#yandere smut#bnha#bnha yandere#yandere#bnha fanfiction#bnha smut#dabi#dabi fanfic#dabi imagine#dabi yandere #yandere dabi x reader #yandere dabi fanfiction #yandere dabi smut #yandere dabi #dabi x y/n #dabi x you #dabi fluff #dabi my hero academia #yandere dabi meme #dabi meme#dabi fanart#dabi smut#dabi headcanons #dabi x reader #dabi degradation #dabi name calling
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  • nikki-on-edge
    12.06.2021 - 14 minutes ago

    💙 The Smell of You 💙

    (Part One | Part Two | Part Three: you are here!)

    Some banners/pictures from my ongoing story “The Smell of You” that you can find and read on AO3!

    🔹 Relationships: Itadori Yuuji/Reader; Sukuna | Ryoumen Sukuna/Reader

    🔹 Summary:

    „Wake up, Angel, wake up!”

    Sukuna didn’t know why he grew fond of you. You were a human that usually pissed him off… Why then was he on his knees, holding your small body against his tattooed one? He had always wanted you dead and there you were, dying on his hands.

    Why was it all different that time?”

    🔹 A note from author:

    In a nutshell, Sukuna x Reader story… but with a twist! This story is rather for 16+ readers; always mind the tags before reading!

    🔹 Additional info:

    No beta-reader!

    I apologize for any grammar mistakes; English is not my first language.

    Reader-chan has a specific appearance for a reason!

    Sukuna is OOC… but still a bastard~

    It’s a sloooow burn story~ ;)

    Hopefully you enjoy this ride! :3

    (Yuuji Itadori and Sukuna Ryoumen are from Jujutsu Kaisen. Don’t use/repost my work without my permission! Reblogs and likes are really appreciated! Check my masterlist or my DeviantArt page for more art! ♥️)

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  • suzuki-violin-school
    12.06.2021 - 21 minutes ago

    Uraraka's Just Broke

    Mmm more bakugo


    Content: just bakusquad dumbassery

    “You seem unusually docile today, Bakubro, what’s up?”

    “Shut it, shitty hair.”

    “Woah! You didn’t even yell!” Kaminari grinned widely. “What happened, Bakugo? D’you start going to therapy?”

    “Do you want me to blow up your face?!”

    “Watch out, he’s back to normal,” Sero joked. “And Denki has no fear, apparently.”

    Bakugo fell silent for a moment, contemplating whether or not he should say something. He already knew they hated how he acted, even though they were all friends. Upon remembering that yes, they were indeed his friends, he decided to speak.

    “I got a girlfriend,” he said simply. “That’s it. Will you shut up now?”

    Mina gasped loudly.

    “Seriously?! I totally thought you’d never date anyone ever!” She stated plainly, surprised. “Who is it? Is it Shoto? Y/n? Yuuga? Toru?”

    “Why the hell is Icy-hot even on your dumb little list?! No way!” Bakugo protested. “…It’s Y/n. I asked her out over the weekend.”

    “Wait, really? I thought she was with Ojiro,” Kaminari said. “…I was completely wrong, huh?”

    “Yeah,” Mina told him. “Very wrong. He took her out to a boba place one time, platonically. They were never even close to dating.”

    “Take it easy, he’s just a dumbass,” Sero said casually. “L/n, huh? That’s interesting. You said she’s one of the most annoying people you’ve ever met, how’d you end up asking her out?”

    “None of your damn business, Office Supplies.”

    Y/n walked into the common space just then, wearing a cute dress. She spun around, the skirt flaying around her as she did.

    “Whaddya think?” She asked. “I’m going out with Ochaco and Iida. Good fit?”

    “Absolutely wonderful fit!” Mina said excitedly. “I’m loving the neckline on that! Can I try it on later?”

    “It’s kinda slutty, I love it,” Kaminari said. Kirishima nudged him with his elbow.

    “Dude. She’s dating Bakugo,” he reminded him. “Might want to stop talking like that.”

    “Am I wrong?” Kaminari defended. “It’s a sexy dress and she looks good in it! Where’s the lie?!”

    Sero sighed heavily.

    “Sure, she looks good, but Bakugo might kill you for saying his girlfriend dresses like a slut,” he said. He glanced at Y/n. “You look great, have fun with Iida and Uraraka. Where are you guys going?”

    “Iida felt bad when ‘Chaco mentioned she didn’t have enough money to pay for a bus ride the other day, so he wanted to treat her to a shopping spree,” Y/n explained. “She invited me along. …But I didn’t know Iida was as super loaded as he is!”


    Sero glanced worriedly at Kaminari as Y/n walked over to Bakugo. He held out a hand and Y/n timidly set hers in it. She was pleasantly surprised when all he did was kiss her knuckles.

    Mina had to stop herself from cooing over how cute he was being.

    “Put some shorts on under so creeps like Sparky can’t look at your cute butt.”

    Y/n and Mina both laughed.

    “Looks like Bakugo’s an ass man,” Sero said, grinning.

    “Shut the fuck up, Tape-face.”


    #neo's fics#self indulgence #bakugo x reader #reader x bakugo #bnha#x reader #x fem!reader #katsuki bakugo #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #fanfiction#fanfics
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  • exquisiteagony
    12.06.2021 - 23 minutes ago


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  • kronoose
    12.06.2021 - 31 minutes ago

    Does anyone know the name of this fic

    It's on a03 (i think)

    So the league kidnaps izuku and shinso

    They basically adopt deku after all for one goes through his memories and puts them into perspective

    Shinso goes back to his dad's after the league makes sure aizawa and mic aren't treating him like shit

    There's some inko slander

    #my hero acadamy #midoriya izuku#deku#shinsou hitoshi #shinso x deku #fanfic#please help #leauge of villians #all might #all for one #mha inko#mha bakugou #bakugo x consequences
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  • bondedosegos
    12.06.2021 - 31 minutes ago
    #this maybe is the same from the last fanfic i posted #this feels really specific but at the same time i tried to make to not make au centered #just.... idk #but yeah #i'm answering!! #dapperanti my beloved
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  • kiarcheo
    12.06.2021 - 39 minutes ago
    #there is some texting again and I couldn't be bothered to go over the formatting here #six the musical #six the musical fanfiction #fic: six stars quarantine #six fanfiction #six the musical fic #six fic#mywork#my ideas#six writing#six queens#my posts #my six posts #six fanfic #six the musical fanfic #six au #six the musical au #sixfic
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  • lefthottubdonut
    12.06.2021 - 43 minutes ago

    Mi eviti?

    Lo faccio.

    Una prova.


    Senti la scossa.

    Wolfers - CSI miamivegas crossover AU

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  • heffrondriving
    12.06.2021 - 49 minutes ago


    SUMMARY: Logan being a troublesome little sleepyhead in the middle of a Big Time Rush benefit bash? Not on James’ watch. (5,930 words // Fluff, Friendship, Hijinks & Shenanigans)

    (a/n: Felt a bit inspired and thought I would write a quick fluffy Jagan fic for @fallingconfetti​, as a kinda really belated present of sorts. This was actually supposed to be a little companion fic of sorts for The Sound Of Scissors & Sleep, but that idea sort of got away from me. Also, sorry if this is kinda late and very messy and also if this is weird of me to spring upon you, but nonetheless, I hope it’s okay??? (o´▽`o))

    It’s a well-known fact in the modern corporate world that Arthur Griffin, fourth most powerful CEO of America and head honcho of RCM-CBT GlobalNet Sanyoid Corporation, absolutely loved his grand parties. He had a tendency to schedule at least one or twice every week, usually making rounds for each of his company’s numerous divisions. This time around, it was the Music Division’s turn, and Rocque Records was slated to hold the event for a Big Time Rush benefit bash.

    A benefit for what, exactly?

    James Diamond was willing to bet for Griffin’s expensive kajillionaire ego, more than anything else. But he wasn’t really complaining. At least it gave him a fair excuse to dress up, look good, and maybe even get his flirt game on.

    He was, however, rather miffed at how early it was. Seriously, who the heck holds a party at five-thirty in the morning? That’s like the end-party hours, not the start of one!

    So there he and his three best friends were, all fashionably attired as they stifled their yawns and played nice for the cameras, trying their best to keep their lethargy at bay with the underlying threat of Gustavo Rocque’s iron fist. Once the press got bored of snapping photos that dazed their bleary eyes and asking prying questions that they could barely answer coherently and passed around like a mini-game of telephone, the band was finally allowed to freely roam the event and interact with the rest of the crowd.

    It was clear from the get-go that each of them had different ways of going about the benefit bash. Carlos instantly made a beeline for the catering table and started viciously attacking the entrees. Kendall, on the other hand, gave subtle wary glances left and right, before whipping out a walkie-talkie from his back pocket and not-so-subtly doing a forward roll to duck behind a nearby line of bushes; no doubt beginning to put another one of his infamous Knight-plans in motion.

    Meanwhile, James wasn’t planning on doing anything crazy—at least, not for the moment. He simply stepped back to scope out the possible lucky targets for his Diamond flirt-fest. Kelly had invited some of the hottest up-and-coming popstars upon Griffin’s behest, so there were a lot of really pretty girls to strike up a conversation with. If James played his cards right, he’d probably get livened right up and have snagged an awesome date by the end of this snoozefest party.

    Let’s see...a cute redhead looking kinda bored next to the kentia palm, maybe I could get her more interested...pretty in pink over there’s talking to Gustavo, ooh, she’s really gorgeous...but maybe I’ll try my chances with foxy-eyed spring rolls girl first and catch up with her later, when the big time papa dog’s fully out of the way and won’t snap my super-toned calves off for being such a friendly charmer—ugh, like I can help it—and…hey, who invited a zombie to this party?

    Instead of getting drawn to a gorgeous girl, James’ critical sight caught Logan at a deadlock, as he noticed that the genius’s bowtie was lopsided almost vertically and tied far too sloppily for his liking. James grimaced at this, thoughts of cute girls already washed out of his mind.

    No member of Big Time Rush should be caught looking sloppy, ‘cause that’ll make us all look super stupid, and I can’t let that happen!

    He strode up to his friend and gave him a tap on the shoulder.

    “Pssst...Logie, lemme fix that for you.”

    But the spaced-out boy didn’t seem to hear James, as he continued absently chewing on his cocktail umbrella and staring down into his empty hurricane glass as if it was the most interesting thing in the world.

    “Logan…? Logan!”

    “Yeah, totally man, me too!” Logan finally sputtered out with a hysterical laugh, flinching out of his trance and startling everyone nearby him with his outburst. The glass slipped from his shaky grasp, with James’ quick reflexes acting in time and him managing to catch it.

    “Jeez, what has gotten into you, dude?” He regarded Logan with a quizzical look. “I was just gonna fix your bowtie for you. Now come here.”

    James placed the saved glassware on a passing waiter’s tray and pulled Logan aside without much of a fight. As his fingers fought against the stubborn polka-dot bowtie, James managed to get a closer glimpse at his friend’s face, and he noticed that Logan was looking significantly more beat-down than the rest of them and in a worse state than he originally thought.

    With tufts of unruly bed hair still sticking out from the back of his head and his slightly more slovenly than usual appearance—which was truly concerning, since this was mister neat freak Hortense they were talking about—he had clearly stayed up all night again.

    But it wasn’t really his fault, the taller boy reckoned. Logan went through that one thing, amnesia or insomnia or whatever the heck that no-sleep disease thingy was called, and it did get pretty bad for him sometimes. In fact, James was even more so inclined to place the blame on Kendall, who knew they had a super-important, super-early event to attend and probably should’ve knocked his night owl roommate out with a frying pan to the conker, so he’d at least get some rest. Maybe not a refreshing one, but rest nonetheless.

    James inwardly sighed. No matter the case, a simple bowtie fix wasn’t going to do at all.

    I really need to teach this poor boy a thing or two about pampering yourself and getting a great night’s worth of beauty sleep…

    “Aaaand...there you go.”

    “Thanks, Jay—”

    “No, wait, hold on—just a few more things, actually!”

    Before Logan could protest against it, James took out his lucky comb and ‘Cuda hair wax and used them to tame down the wild cowlicks sticking out from his friend’s hair. Afterwards, he dabbed some baby powder on his thumbs and gently rubbed it onto the darkened undersides of Logan’s eyes, before giving his waistcoat and trousers a quick dusting and smoothing.

    After another quick appraisal, James finally flashed Logan two thumbs up and gave him a satisfied pat on the back.

    “Okay, there you really go!”

    “Again, thanks Jamesie, you’re a real peach.” Logan grinned back, before he spun on his heels towards the food table. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I think there’s a plate of lobsters over there with my name on it…”

    “What? Do you have a frigging deathwish?!” James protectively pulled him back before he could do anything foolish. “You’re super allergic to that stuff!”

    “Oh yeah...whoops.” He tried to play it off, knocking a fist on his skull. “Just a little early morning scatterbrain moment there, bleep blap bloop, should clear up in a moment!”

    “Seriously Logiebear, are you okay?”

    “Why do you ask that?”

    “Well, for one, you’re now talking to a coconut instead of me.”

    “Oh, haha, must be the weird-looking swoopy bangs hairstyle...” Logan skittishly giggled as he plucked the food item and held it up next to James’ head for comparison. “I mean, even for a highly amazing genius like me, it’s difficult to tell which one is which. These spot the difference games are really getting harder and harder!”

    “Excuse me?!”

    “Sorry, nevermind.” With a dismissive shake of his head, Logan threw away the coconut husk and nearly knocked one of Griffin’s employees unconscious with it. “And it’s sweet of you to care...but really, I’ll be fine. I’m totally okay!”

    “No, you’re totally not.” pressed James. “You’re probably running on like ten cups of coffee and ten minutes of sleep, you’re clearly not fine!”

    “Pffft, what’s the big deal? We just have to get through this one day, don’t we, Jay? Relax. I’ve functioned well enough and perfectly capably before despite my lack of sleep, so I’m sure I can handle Griffin’s little idyllic BTR gala. As they say, this isn’t my first rodeo, pardner! Yeehaw!”

    To demonstrate his point, Logan spat out the mulched mini-umbrella toothpick and clicked his tongue to imitate the sound of a running horse. But just as he was about to commence spinning an imaginary lasso, James held up a hand to stop him in his embarrassing tracks.

    “Yeah, fine, okay, just...don’t be a total weirdo like that.” he sighed. “And take care of yourself. Seriously, I mean it.”

    “Oh please, me, mister future doctor, take care of myself?” Logan’s bravado reached a boastful crescendo. “Well, duh!”

    “Riiight. Oh, by the way, Doctor Cowboy?”

    “Yup, pardner?”

    “Now you’re talking to an upside-down broom.”

    “Again, it’s probably the hair—”

    “Don’t make me whack you with it!”

    “Alright, I’m going!”

    As James watched Logan walk away, a sinking feeling began making waves in the very pits of his stomach. Despite his friend’s reassurances, he had an unshakeable bad feeling about this whole thing. Forget about getting girls and small talk, he needed to make sure that Logan didn’t get into any kind of trouble!

    He gave his friends’ whereabouts another speedy observation. Kendall was ‘stealthily’ skulking all over the place, disrupting waiters and honorary guests alike as he appeared to be busy with his own personal scheme that now included a roll of duct tape, three pineapples, and a gallon of SelMart floor cleaner; and at that point, James knew better than to ask or interfere.

    Meanwhile, Carlos was quietly mulling in one corner, getting incredibly antsy without the presence of his trusty helmet (that Kelly basically had to pry out of his hands with a crowbar). With the grim contemplative expression on the Latino’s face, he was probably trying to figure out how to smuggle that whole rotisserie chicken under his suit jacket without anyone noticing, so he wasn’t going to be of much help to James, either.

    So it looked like it was going to be a one-man mission. James only wished he remembered to bring a tree hat with him.

    Or maybe...

    He picked up one of the empty coconut shells from the food counter and placed it on his head, hazel eyes glinting with steely determination.

    Operation Rock-a-Bye-Logie was underway.


    As expected, the benefit bash was one snowballing disaster after another.

    It looked like Kendall’s secret plan had rapidly turned pear-shaped (or pineapple-shaped?), as innocent bystanders suddenly found themselves getting beaned by projectile fruits at random whenever the harassed blond was hanging around. And at some point, James swore he heard the familiar echoes of Carlos’s bloodcurdling shrieks reverberating from the bathroom, so the yellow-jacketed security dudes must have caught up with his chicken shenanigans too.

    Meanwhile, he himself couldn’t even play the usual supertastic monster food attack with the hor d’oeuvres (especially not without Carlos around to do it with him) or entertain all the hordes of girls asking to get his autograph or take photos with him. He was more absorbed with stalking Logan around and constantly trying to veer him out of doing foolish sleep-deprived things, such as talking to random foodstuffs and falling asleep at the wrong places, to name a few.

    With the help of his makeshift coconut helmet and a few convenient potted plants for hiding spots, James was maintaining his own cover smoothly—matter of fact, he was actually rather pleased with himself for doing a pretty good darned job of manning his covert operation.

    Some of the diversive tactics he had employed so far included: pretending to trip and tackling Logan to keep him from drooling on the back of Griffin’s head, pointing and shouting “hey look, what’s that super weird thing over there?!” whenever Logan did something humiliatingly stupid like run straight into walls or make googly-eyes and flirty lines with the hapless kentia plant, and James had also employed the use of airhorns to literally blare the genius boy out of his stupor whenever it looked like he was nodding off, and simply claiming that he had pressed it by complete accident whenever derided about the matter.

    Thankfully, no one questioned James’ erratically strange behaviour. Not even Gustavo nor Kelly, since they were far too preoccupied with chasing hotly after Kendall and Carlos’s heels to quash their dogs’ more destructive fiascos, as well as doing a lot of internal damage control to keep the band’s bash from entirely crumbling apart at their exhausted hands.

    The only one that picked up on James’ ulterior motive was the person of interest himself.

    After the thousandth time that Logan’s chosen meal (this time, it was a plate of nachos and a bowl of salsa dip) had been shocked right out of his hands, and having to hear his friend’s lame excuses of “oh, darn it! I thought this thing was the can of whipped cream again, my bad!”, the furious boy finally slapped James’ airhorn out of his grasp, pinched him by the ears and ignored his pained bleating, as he pulled James aside to confront him.

    “James, I don’t know exactly what you’re trying to do here—but whatever it is, it’s starting to get really annoying now!”

    “Me??? Pssh, I’m not trying to do anything!”

    “Oh yeah?” Logan scoffed doubtfully. “Then why have you been constantly following me, getting all up in my personal space like we’re in a Peewee hockey match, and practically giving me permanent auditory damage with that stupid airhorn for like, the entire freaking day now?! You wouldn’t even let me ingest a single nourishing thing without giving me five consecutive myocardial infarctions!”

    “Okay, before you get mad at me...can you at least explain it in words that I know?”

    “STOP. GIVING. ME. HEART. ATTACKS!!!” Logan took James by the shoulders and violently shook him to punctuate every single word, and the taller boy was only mercifully released when the coconut helmet was rattled right out of his noggin and he started to look rather green in the face. “And stop being such a jerk!”

    “I’m not...being a jerk, I just—ech—” James took a moment to choke down a sickening heave. “I just...thought you needed some help…”

    “Well, thanks, but no thanks—I don’t need any help, okay? You said you would leave me alone!”

    “And you said you would be fine, but five minutes ago, you nearly dived face-first in the fruit punch bowl and would’ve drowned yourself in blue lemonade if I didn’t manage to grab your collar and keep you from acting like an idiot!”

    “You’re the one who’s acting like an idiot, you insufferable coconut head! And I don’t need you to do anything for me! So just—just stop embarrassing me already!”

    James crossed his arms. “I think you’re doing a perfectly great job of that on your own, Logan.”

    “I’m…” Logan sighed out, slumping in defeat. “Okay, fine. I promise, I’ll be more careful from now on.”

    “That’s good to hear.” replied James, and he suddenly leaned in closer until his lips were only inches away from Logan’s ear, rendering him incredibly flustered. “Now…”

    “W-what are you…”

    “Here’s the thing, Lo...if you’re feeling up a quick power nap, I could easily distract people by flexing my super awesome muscles for a free gun show, free of charge! And then you could totally duck out for a bit and catch some z’s by that sofa over there next to Fujisaki.” he whispered conspiratorially. “Just like, pretend you’re fending the flies off him or something.”

    “James, p-please…”

    “Or better yet, have a nap now! I’m pretty sure you could easily fit in my coat, and this baby’s surprisingly roomy on the inside and velvet-lined so you’re gonna be super comfy too!”

    James straightened up and swooped Logan’s head into his arms without warning, hugging the squirming boy close to his broad chest and draping him with his suit jacket, right as three girls happened to walk by them. The passing trio shot them some funny looks, and burst out in excited whispers and amused giggles before they were even fully out of the two boys’ sights.

    “James! Stop it—just stop it forever!” The red-faced Logan wriggled out of his grasp and gave him a rough shove. “And stay away from me. I mean it!”

    With an indignant huff, Logan stormed away from his friend.

    “Whether you’ll accept it or not, I’m just trying to do what’s best for you!” James called out after him, only eliciting more judging looks and circulating gossip from the rest of the curious guests.

    Little did they know, the biggest avalanche of a disaster was just about to bury them under.


    Though such a fact is less-well known by the modern corporate world, except perhaps by his company employees and fervent subscribers of CEO Tiger Magazine, the high-rolling Arthur Griffin also held the firm belief that any and all grand celebrations are never complete without something amazingly extravagant to end it up with.

    Whether that meant a hours-long colourful fireworks show that would illuminate the entire Los Angeles skyline bright enough to be seen from outer space, or an entire circus performance complete with a ringmaster, acrobats, dancing elephants, bears riding motorcycles, and his pet liger doing a comedy stand-up routine with sign language, or even just a single shocking rumour that would make the press go wild with speculation and clamour over every trivial detail; pretty much anything flashy, insane, and memorable enough to make the news was fair game.

    But for the time being, the Big Time Rush benefit bash was just about to come to a tranquil close, and everything appeared to be mellowing out rather nicely for everyone.

    Kendall’s nutty plan, whatever it was, had blown over out of sight without any pyrrhic repercussions, though he now smelled strongly of chlorine and James still occasionally caught his youngest friend picking pineapple viscera and duct tape bits out of his hair and clothes. Carlos had gotten his helmet back, probably after a very lengthy negotiation session from Kelly, and was now contently chewing on a giant chicken leg. Logan, meanwhile, was still holding out so far and might actually make it out in one piece, with just a little more push.

    James breathed easier, confident that their band’s quaint event would end without a hitch...

    That is, until the extravagant grand finale cake was wheeled out.

    It was a stunning five-tiered cake, humongous and almost as tall as their shortest band member in size, with the four boys’ individual faces decorating each layer, and a fondant-sculpted Big Time Rush logo to top it all off. From the looks of it, it was certainly ordered from the most prestigious bakery California had to offer, and probably cost at least half the budget of the entire party altogether.

    Carlos gave out a low whistle as the monumental dessert was parked in front of them. “Woah, Gustavo and Kelly really went all-out with this super awesome cake!”

    “Yep, they really did.” agreed Kendall, as he ushered the Latino far away from the pastry’s reach before his wandering hands could make a gratuitous swipe for the delicious frosting.

    James, however, was less impressed and more affronted with the cake. “Ugh, that is so not fair, why do you get the biggest tier and I don’t???” he complained. “I’m practically carrying this whole band on my back for crying out loud, and my gorgeous face,” cue blue-steel expression and signature hand-wavy move, “deserves some justice!”

    Kendall rolled his eyes at him. “No one’s gonna wanna eat the cake if they did that, ‘cause it’s gonna be mangerine-flavoured and your dumb face would also spoil everyone’s appetite. And hey, just be thankful that you didn’t get the smallest tier like Litos did.”

    “But that makes sense though, ‘cause it’s size-accurate!”

    “Hey!” Carlos frowned as he slapped the back of James’ head, but before the latter could retaliate, Kendall stepped in between them and held up a pacifying hand.

    “No more fighting!” he insisted. “We’ve all caused enough big time trouble for the whole day, and we just need to get through this one last cake-cutting ceremony and then we’re finally done...so please save it for later, okay?”

    “Fiiiine.” James and Carlos reluctantly conceded with a pout.

    Logan had remained awfully silent throughout their whole bantering, half-melting against a pillar and almost concealed beneath the frilly crinkle fabric adorning it. He barely paid any attention to his quibbling friends, as his glazed eyes remained entirely fixated at the beautiful cake.

    “Wow, it looks like a soft pillow…” he murmured, and James was the only one who heard this. His bangs flew in the opposite direction as he raptly whipped his head towards his vacant friend.

    “What was that?”

    “I mean, it looks like, so yellow! Haha, like, you know, like the colour and stuff…”

    “Loges...that cake’s red and black.”

    “Which in mantis shrimp vision is yellow or something!...probably, ‘cause they have this supervision polarisation with sixteen colour receptors in their eyes, which means, they could see like a bajillion different colours that are completely invisible to us puny humans?” Logan tutted deliriously. “Just because it’s red and black to you, doesn’t mean it isn’t yellow to anyone else. Especially to the shrimp. Think about the poor shrimp, sheesh. Don’t be such a crustacean-cist, James.”

    “What are you talking about...are you even listening to yourself right now?”

    “You’re listening to...myself...right now!”

    Before James could reply to Logan’s pathetic retort, the both of them were interrupted by the shrill sound of microphone feedback, as Kelly pushed Gustavo to take center stage amid smatterings of polite applause. He grudgingly thanked everyone for coming to the Big Time Rush benefit bash, gave due acknowledgements to Griffin, Fujisaki, and RCM-CBT GlobalNet Sanyoid for making the event possible, and finally closed his unenthusiastic speech by introducing his dogs—“our band, I mean!”—and announcing the cake-cutting ceremony.

    The four boys bared their best set of smiley-teeth for the flashing cameras, James flaunting all-out and easily playing pretty-pretty for the screens as usual, while Logan couldn’t even muster up enough energy to make his million-dollar dimples pop out. Carlos immediately wielded the knife and made a move to murder the cake in cold blood, but Kendall was quicker to confiscate the deadly weapon from him, thankfully before there were any further incidents of unfortunate dismemberment—pastries or limbs notwithstanding—occurred.

    Logan was a headstrong boy, especially when it came to fighting against his own instincts. But try as he might, he didn’t know how much longer he could keep up his somnambulistic charade, and Gustavo’s incredibly trite speech was the final straw into successfully boring him to blissless oblivion. The caffeine jitters were wearing out to a dull nausea, his mouth felt horribly dry and the obstinate headache he had been nursing for most of the day was swelling up to a killer migraine, he could barely keep his eyes open as the late afternoon breeze enveloped him and it just felt so cool and nice and snuggly, like his most favourite rocket-print comforters...

    Kendall stuck the knife into the cake and carefully carved out a small wedge to place onto a plate, and momentarily held it out to pass the slice to Carlos. As he did so, James suddenly saw his now-unconscious friend’s heavy head drooping steadily towards the upright blade, and his whole system shot up with mortified adrenaline...

    Logan was in danger. He had to act fast. He had to act now!

    With a thunderous battle scream, James sprang forward, wrenched Logan out of harm’s way, and axe-kicked the knife out of Kendall’s hand, making him cry out in surprise. The treacherous silverware clattered to the ground and skidded away, and everyone was left bewildered.

    But in doing all of those action-packed heroics, James had also unknowingly pushed the cake into a state of instability; and he, Kendall, Carlos, and Kelly could only watch in horror as the entire baked structure wobbled, the highest tier started sliding off...and landed directly on Gustavo’s head with a loud splat.

    Everyone gasped—with the exception of Fujisaki, who was suspiciously motionless and had a swarm of flies holding their own insect-gala on his back, and Griffin, who merely raised an inscrutable brow at the unfolding turn of bizarre events.

    The apoplectic music producer was shaking as he hacked out cake topper detritus and deliberately turned towards James, who had managed to catch the dozing Logan safely in his arms.

    “You...you little…”

    But before Gustavo could begin yelling and inflicting his most atrocious wrath upon the misbehaving dogs, he got cut off by his other dog’s ecstatic cheering from behind him.

    “Awesome! Caaaake fiiiiight!!!” Carlos declared. He rapped his helmet twice, gripped Kendall by the hair, and pushed his face right into the half-demolished cake. The shocked blond retaliated by scooping up a hefty piece of the Logan-tier and throwing it blindly, but instead of hitting its intended target, it made its way over to Kelly’s periwinkle houndstooth blouse instead.

    Kendall’s unwitting victim blinked twice and slowly wiped the splattered mess off her cheek along with her ruined makeup, before snatching an entire tray of red and black-frosted cupcakes from one of the flabbergasted waitresses. With this, Kelly wielded her newfound pastry ammunition with a fiery look blazing in her eyes, making everyone step back in mutual apprehension.

    “Oh, it’s on!”

    With this loaded proclamation, all of the party guests promptly thawed and made a frantic grab for the cake, and the air was instantly filled with soaring food and rowdy shouting. Meanwhile, James managed to crawl away and take shelter under a chiffon cloth-covered table, with Logan still blissfully asleep and cradled close to him. The press cameras had long-been destroyed by getting gooey mess dumped on them, though the attending journalists were swift to call for some backup. And soon enough, Channel 6, Evening LA, and E! News vans screeched to a halt outside to revel in the scandalous glory and film it in 4k, just in time for that night’s headlines.

    Throughout all of this unmitigated pandemonium, Arthur Griffin overlooked the scene safely by the sidelines, with a clear ballistic shield effectively protecting him from any oncoming snack attacks. Flanked next to him were his loyal assistants, and their less-effective defences of a clipboard and a briefcase. Jessica was still busy scribbling away some report, as Obdul lowered his frosting-smeared briefcase and snapped off a piece of the edible Kendall Knight print-out face stuck to it, nibbling at the sugary chip and making a lukewarm expression of approval.

    “Oooh, cake fight. I love a good cake fight!” Griffin gleefully clapped his hands together. “Jessica, make sure to include an incredibly relishing bakery warfare for our next annual RCM-CBT GlobalNet Sanyoid international branch meeting’s itinerary!”

    Jessica gave a curt nod in response, all before she and Obdul shot each other a meaningful look and simultaneously smacked their unsuspecting boss upside on the head with a handful of sloppy cake they had been hiding behind their backs.


    By the end of the grand Big Time Rush benefit bash, every single one of the esteemed attendees left Rocque Records entirely caked with pastel red and grey frosting, and dripping a saccharine trail of mushy baked goods in their wake. Among the crowd of the shambling mudcake monsters, James and Logan were the only ones who walked away from the ordeal relatively scot-free, aside from a few stray smears on James’ knees and elbows.

    Because of this, they were both allowed to take the limousine back home, while Kendall and Carlos had to miserably settle for a walk of shame through the bustling Hollywood streets all covered in Big Time Rush-themed cake and lugging their respective take-home pineapples and roasted chicken in polystyrene boxes along; while their infamous song’s opening played on an incessant ringtone loop, just to add some more public-pilloried insult to their sugary injuries.

    Though the limousine was a lot spacier—and a lot quieter—without the company of their two rambunctious friends, James just couldn’t bring himself to set Logan down on the other seat and risk disturbing his rest. So instead, he allowed Logan to peacefully curl up on his lap, the slumbering boy’s legs tucked close to his chest and arms wrapped around himself, as James’ draped suit jacket and steadfast embrace secured him from the bumpy ride ahead of them.

    They were halfway through the trip back to the Palm Woods when Logan finally started coming around, his spiky hair tickling James’ chin as he stretched and rubbed his hazy eyes awake.

    “What...what happened?”

    “Long story, Logie.” his sole companion sighed. “But basically, you fell asleep, there was a giant cake, I acted like a complete idiot, aaand everything went wrong and quickly turned into a wild bull-bucking rodeo show from there. So...whoops.”

    “Oh...I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, James.” Logan’s voice was barely above a crestfallen whisper. “I didn’t mean to...I just...I knew this was a super important event, and it’s all my fault that I stayed up again anyway, so I...I didn’t wanna be a bother to you guys and get in our band’s way. But I...I guess I did exactly just that...”

    “Shhh, it’s okay Lo, it’s not your fault...it’s Kendall’s.” soothed James, gently running his fingers through Logan’s matted locks. “No, just kidding. But I care about you, okay? We all do. If you just told us you needed a break today, we could’ve covered for you and told Gustavo and Kelly that you have a crazy-serious illness that’s making you cough up your intestines and couldn’t attend. And if they really needed you to be a go-show for this stupid benefit bash so desperately—well, that’s what our cardboard cutout of you is for!”

    “...You’ve replaced me with a cardboard cutout before?”

    “Whaaaat?! No, totally not, I was just...” James coughed sheepishly. “Okay, well, there was that one time when you were too zonked out with watching your weird five-hour Venus documentary on Discovery Channel and we couldn’t get you to budge your butt out of the couch to attend dance practice, but nobody totally noticed! Mr. X even x-claimed that it was the most x-cellent he’s ever seen you dance in a while!” he shook his head. “Anyway, the point is, you’re a super smart guy who could learn just about everything in the world...but you also need to learn to shut off that ginormous mind of yours every once in a while, and get some rest.”

    “I probably should…” Logan apologetically hung his head. “And you know, you’ve always been looking out for me even at my worst days, and I really shouldn’t have taken that for granted. I’m sorry for being so crabby today.”

    “Well, not to be crustacean-cist, but lack of sleep will deffo do that to you, shrimp-for-brains.”

    James was relieved to see his genius friend break into a chuckle, the hushed grogginess of Logan’s lulled laughter making his heart soar with brotherly warmth. “Yeah...it does.”

    “But hey, look on the bright side,” he assured, “at least you managed to make that bland bore-bash of a benefit party completely unforgettable. From what I’ve seen, we’re gonna make the evening news and Schnooble clickbait articles and the two of us are probably also gonna make it in Pop Tiger’s hottest-goss-lips section, which means that Big Time Rush is gonna be the talk of the town! For better or for worse, but hey, PR is PR.”

    “But, I didn’t...I didn’t get you guys in huge trouble, did I?”

    “With Griffin? Not at all, that crazy old goon ate up every sweet second of it! Although Gustavo did have to pay for all the clean-up which cost a dirty dime or two, and he’s gonna be snorting fondant bits out of his lungs for weeks to come...so best case scenario, we’re probably gonna dearly pay for our pastry-related crimes against him soon enough.”

    “I’m sorry…”

    “Hey, stop apologising so much, you’re gonna scratch my eardrums, ya dummy. And again, it wasn’t your fault, it was Carlos’s...oh, who am I kidding, it was mostly mine.” admitted James. “But anyway, Kenny and Carlitos were also off plotting their own troubles off the wazoo today, so we were pretty much bound to end up on the bad side of Gustavo Rocque, like we always do.”

    “All of Gustavo’s sides are his bad sides!” Logan shuddered. “He’s like an icosahedron of pure grumpiness.”

    “Exactly!” James scratched his head. “Whatever that means.”

    “So...we’re good on that?”

    “Oh, Kendall and I’ll deal with his Hulk-out tantrum if we really need to. But...honestly? The worst part of this day isn’t even the thought of Gustavo’s future torture party that he has lined up for all of us, but today was just—it was a close call, I...you...you almost got badly hurt...and that...that really scared me.” James swallowed hard as he stubbornly blinked back his tears, while Logan chose to stare down and fidget with a stray thread on his waistcoat.


    “And don’t you dare apologise for that, you idiot!” James’ tone softened, and when he hugged Logan’s head close to his chest, Logan didn’t draw back from it this time. “It’s just, I love you so much and I never ever want to see you get hurt, ever. I know you like handling things on your own and I respect that, but just know that I’m always here for you, okay, Logiebear?”

    “I...I love you too, Jay, I really do.” Logan returned his embrace, and it was his turn to get dewey-gazed, though he didn’t really bother to hide it. “I still don’t know what happened, but...I’ll always keep that in mind. Thank you so much for helping out and taking care of me today. Gosh, I’m so insanely lucky to have a super-super-friend like you.”

    “Did you just say super twice?”

    “You bet I did!” Logan winked, and the both of them cracked up in peals of amusement.

    “And ugh, b-t-dubs! Speaking of taking care of you, you’re gonna get eyebags and a greasy face real bad if you keep up your wonky sleeping schedule, and I cannot let that happen to your adorable face!” James said, playfully pinching Logan on the nose. “I’m so inviting you around for a sleepover, and no laptops or crazy spacey documentaries or staying up past your bedtime or anything! And then I’m gonna give you an exfoliation peel, and run you through my whole skin care routine—and I swear, I’m just gonna pamper you so hard that you’ll be instantly knocked out and have the best elite supermodel dreams of your entire life!” he paused to think. “Wait, no, that’s my dream...make that the best doctor cowboy dreams of your entire life!”

    “That sounds really wonderful.” Logan yawned out. “And Carlitos did say that you give the bestest cuddles in the whole universe…”

    “Of course I do, I’m James friggin’ Diamond!”

    “Okay, Jay-bear. We’ll do that.” Logan happily mumbled and burrowed onto James’ comfortable shoulder, as his drowsy eyelids flickered with dulcet stargazing and drifted his transient afterthoughts away into gentler eventides. “Did I miss anything else today?”

    “No...not at all.” James smiled fondly, wiping a small smudge of cake off Logan’s lip with one thumb and giving his dimpled cheek a soft kiss. “You go get some more sleep, pardner. Sweet dreams.”

    #basically james being overprotective; logan being tired; kendall and carlos being idiots #and also lots and lots of extra fluffiness bc my brainrot can't not <3 #i only had a single editing pass on this though so #any mistakes and messiness i will own up for #but t'was a fun write all the same ^u^ #btr #big time rush #james diamond#logan mitchell#fanfic#fanfiction#bandfic#jagan #james diamond x logan mitchell #fluff#cute fic#hijinks#band#music#boyband#rusher#writeblr #writers on tumblr #one shot#nickelodeon #stop it forever #big time fics #short story#friendship
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  • dyingontheharringrovehill
    12.06.2021 - 51 minutes ago

    So I wrote a thing, inspired by this post from @booksfoxesandcoffee


    “Why am I here?”

    Steve looks up from the wedding programme he’s studying and across to Billy, who is sulking in the afternoon sun.

    “Because I need something to keep me sane through this”

    “All they’ve done all day is stare”

    “That’s because you’re supposed to do up your buttons at a wedding”

    Billy snorts and fiddles with the open collar of his dress shirt, “it’s called fashion Harrington, I wouldn’t expect you to understand”

    Steve rolls his eyes and turns, abruptly facing a woman in a long, pale blue dress. She is holding a baby, dressed in a tiny flowered dress and sucking on, what appeared to be, a corsage.

    He thinks briefly that babies probably shouldn’t eat flowers, what do babies eat? Should she have a toy or something, maybe -

    “Steve?” He snaps back to the woman in front of him, an aunt perhaps, or a cousin?

    “Would you mind watching Sophie while we have our pictures done?”

    Before he has even opened his mouth there is a small child in his arms, a brief thanks, and then she is gone. He is aware of Billy appearing behind him, he reaches out and tickles her under then chin. Sophie laughs and claps her little hands together, reaching out but Billy pulls his hand away.

    “She’s not going to bite you”

    “I’ve known babies who bite”

    Steve sighs and settles into a gentle sway, Sophie seemingly content to suck on the bunch of fake flowers in her hand. He is becoming increasingly aware of a need to use the bathroom and looks out to the pictures, they are swapping around, probably taking far more than really necessary. He sways a little faster, trying to take his mind off it. This, however, seems to upset Sophie, she makes a small squawk and grabs up at his face, pinching his lips. It was no use, he was going to have to go.

    “Hey Billy, I have to go to the toilet, can you just hold her for a second?”

    He hands Sophie to Billy, who looks vaguely like Steve has just handed him a ticking bomb and vanishes towards the stately home behind him.

    Steve wiggles his way back out through the milling relatives, dodging small talk and polite conversation because he is absolutely sure that Billy would not put a baby in a plant pot and leave it to be raised by the beetles

    He comes back out into the courtyard, but there is no sign of Billy or Sophie. He frowns a little and glances at the plant pots, he wouldn’t

    “They went over to the grass, the flashes were making her fuss”, another unknown relative, Steve mumbled a thanks and disappeared down the steps, glancing around for any sight of them

    There they were, Billy was sat on the grass leaning against the stone wall, gently bouncing the small girl on his knees. Steve crossed the grass as quietly as possible, heart melting as he watched her small hands grasping Billy’s necklace and pulling at his hair.

    “Ow, no, stop that” Billy halfheartedly batted her hands away, a pursed frown gently giving way to a fond smile.

    Steve plopped down beside them and booped Sophie’s nose, “I knew you loved babies really”

    “Shut your mouth”

    #billy loves babies pass it on #I haven’t written for an a g e #i don’t know what i’m doing #but it was scrabbling about in my brain #so here it is #we live for these soft bois #soft boys#booksfoxesandcoffee#steve harrington#billy hargrove#harringrove#ficlet#stranger things#harringrove ficlet#fanfic #stranger things fanfic #text post#my post
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  • justacatwithanxiety
    12.06.2021 - 52 minutes ago

    When you're writing fanfiction and accidentally make yourself emotional:

    #it's not even angst hgshkjkgsg #also first time writing fanfiction sooo that's interesting #writer things#writing fanfic#writing humor#my rambles
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  • dreamingbrownie
    12.06.2021 - 53 minutes ago

    In Chapter 12, there's some skating in a winter forest, some smut and a lot of feels sprinkled all over it. Only the Epilogue to go now!

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  • xrosedarlingx
    12.06.2021 - 1 hour ago

    having people make suggestions of ideas/ships i should use in my next chapter means so much to me im gonna cry

    #it just started happening to me and ahhh #i love you if you do this #also like do ppl rlly like my writing enough that they want me to interpret their fav characters ? #its better than any compliment in my opinion #i will ignore all other responsibilities and write this for you #fanfic#fanfiction writers
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  • emmaprime-works
    12.06.2021 - 1 hour ago

    Shruikan's Rider (SR): Prologue: A Broken Bond {Inheritance Cycle fanfic}

    Book description: Alys Emmasdaughter is going through the worst pain any Rider can ever go through--her dragon is dying and there is no way to save him.

    While she mourns his inevitable death, the Eldunarí at the Dragon Riders' Academy inform her of a dragon who is suffering a similar fate

    Alys led her silver steed up the path to the Dragon Rider Academy, high on Mount Arngor. Icy wind skimmed against her bare, almond arms as she focused on the dirt path beneath her. She felt and looked unkept; her frizzy, black hair was like a bird's nest; her clothes torn; and her skin filthy and dotted with scars.

    The attack had been unprovoked; all she and her dragon, Ugauc, wanted to do was to visit the Stone of Broken Eggs near Ellesméra.

    But that didn't happen.

    Several hooded figures had struck them down, all baring spears that glistened with what Alys found out later was Seithr Oil; the product known to be used by the Ra'zac.

    Every night, all she heard was Ugauc's cries as spiked nets doused in the erosive liquid dragged him down. The scene played over and over in her head; his cries, the pain, the figures emerging from the night's shadows, and them stabbing him to death as she killed them all with her blade. One by one, they had crumbled to the ground, leaving nothing but their scarlet cloaks behind.

    From there, she ran to Ellesméra, seeking the aid of the elves, who insisted on her leaving as soon as Ugauc was stable, saying his recovery would be long and waiting there would render her useless.

    But where she was wouldn't matter; without her beloved partner-of-heart-and-mind, she was useless.

    Alys paused where she was and looked up, fighting off the tears forming in her eyes—again. It surprised her she had anymore tears to cry after her long journey back. She'd sob as she rode, keen while she ate, and cry as she slept—she was empty without him.

    the ball of sadness in her heart was heavy, growing on its own accord throughout the day, causing her to crumble into tears unannounced.

    And now was one of those moments.

    Alys' throat grew sore and her lip quivered. Why had they done what they did? And why now, of all times, had the sadness grown stronger?

    She placed her hands over her eyes, taking a deep, shaky breath. The last time she had walked along this path—or rather had to walk along this path—was when she was summoned, six years ago, by Eragon himself to be tested at the age of sixteen. According to the Eldunarí, her dragon Ugauc was the one for her. And they were right.

    She wanted to reflect further, to remember his hatching and their training and his personality and how perfect he was, but she'd just end up wailing halfway up a mountain near people who she was supposed to tutor; now wasn't the time to bawl.

    Alys continued her breathing, slowly gathering herself and drying off her eyes. "Kausta, Epona," Come, Epona, she said to her elf horse, putting on the bravest of faces she could muster and continuing up the path.

    As she climbed, she thought of ways to distract herself; like what to put in the letter to her family for this month, or which eggs were ready to hatch next month; all the while fighting off any memory of a green dragon that emerged in her mind.

    Finally, she stood in front of the large, open black-painted steel gates, looking in at the large sandstone courtyard. A few Riders stood about, talking to each other and preparing their dragons for slights.

    Again, her sadness swelled.

    Not now, she insisted. Don't think about him.

    Alys pushed her head up high, pushing back any tears that were read to form and walked through the courtyard, focusing only on the large oak doors in front of her. On one door was a lifelike carving of a dragon, surrounded by fog at its feet with a tongue of fire escaping its maw. It looked down at the figure carving in the opposite door—its rider. The Rider seemed to be neither elf nor human, male nor female. Its features were pointed, like an elf's, yet its build was broader like a human's.

    As soon as she reached the door, Alys turned to Epona and removed her belongings—a small pack of food and a book along with a rolled-up blanket. "Elrun ono, fricai," Thank you, friend, she said, stroking Epona's face.

    The mare leaned into her touch and backed away before trotting out of the courtyard and out of sight.

    Alys drew in a breath, shoving a new pulse of sadness aside and pushing open the varnished door. On the other side, she saw a few students bustling through the hall, with small dragons following them. She swiftly turned to the nearest set of stairs, jogging up to the dormitories.

    From the outside, all the dorms looked like the inside of a beehive, openings in the rock connected by balconies and stairs. Each hole was big enough for most dragons to fit through, just like the corridors in the Academy. on the inside, it was nowhere near as intricate-looking, just three levels lined with average-sized doors and a large open balcony on each floor, so the dragons could fly up to the balconies if they couldn't fit through.

    Alys loved the layout. It was so simple yet so thoughtful, allowing the dragons and riders to be individual yet have they stay in the stay quarters.

    Alys continued her walk to her dorm, slowly opening the door with a quiet creak. She half expected to see Ugauc land on the balcony and make his way towards her, past his nest and her bed and her bookcase overflowing with books to nuzzle her. She closed the door with a quiet click and tossed her stuff onto her bed and looked out through the balcony, holding her arms akimbo and breathing deeply.

    Alys shook her head, her sadness growing. A tear fell down her cheek, slowly, as she looked at the bright sun. She looked down at Uguac's nest, a large indent in the stone floor, lined with a thin cushion, littered with green scales and tufts of fur and feathers.

    She smiled sadly at it and looked over at the green fragments of Ugauc's dragon egg on her ebony bookshelf. She drifted over to it, picking up the largest piece of the emerald shell, the intact base of the egg, where Ugauc had comfortably sat after he hatched, looking around at the hatchery and his Rider with his curious amber eyes.

    Alys sighed sadly, wiping away her tears and swallowing hard, burying the lump in her throat as best as she could. She returned the fragment to its spot and stood back, tears returning to her cheeks again. "I miss you," she whispered.

    The heavy flapping of dragon wings came close to her balcony, and a sapphire blue dragon landed on it. Alys looked at her, wiping away her tears. "Hello, Saphira. Eragon," she greeted.

    Eragon slid off his saddle, brunette locks bouncing as he landed. His brown eyes softened. "Alys... I got word from the elves as soon as you came to them," he started, coming closer, Saphira following close behind him. "And may I say, I am so, so sorry. I should've sent someone with you." He drew in a breath, smoothing his hair with both hands. "It shouldn't have happened. I promise we'll find out who's responsible."

    Alys looked down. "That's thoughtful, Eragon," she said. "But I... I don't think I want to find out; it's not going to change anything."

    Eragon paused. "Alys, you can't say that. It's important that someone is held responsible."

    She shook her head, fighting off more tears. "I'm sorry. I—I can't do this now," she turned around, holding herself. "Please, let me grieve."

    Eragon went to reach for her, but retracted his hand. "I will investigate, to save others." He sighed and glanced at Saphira. "When you're up for it, I'm sure Eldunarí would like your company; they want to talk to you."

    Alys nodded dismissively and listened carefully as they left before letting out a choked sob.


    It took Alys weeks before she could force herself to leave her room to actually talk to people. A few would stop by throughout the day, giving their condolences and offering her the food they had brought. She excepted most of the food but ate little of it.

    She plodded her way to the Hall of Colours, keeping her head low as she nibbled on her last apple slice. She ignored everyone that passed, focusing solely on her meeting with the Eldunarí. Finally, she began her climb towards the eyrie—Eragon's sleeping quarters—high in the hold, and at the last stop, he turning into a small side tunnel. She entered the large, disk-like chamber, looking ahead at the many tiered daises that held the array of gleaming Eldunarí. Multi-coloured flecks of light beamed around the room, brightening the cool room immensely.

    Alys' mind grazed against the dragons' minds. She found it soothing, feeling their calmness when all she had felt was heartbreak for so long. Her eyes landed on Umaroth's white Eldunarí. He and Glaedr were one of the few she always remembered.

    Welcome, Alys-vinr, Umaroth greeted.

    Hello, Umaroth and everyone else, she responded, keeping her mind as pain-free as possible. I heard you wanted to talk to me.

    Yes, we have some news, Umaroth said elusively.

    Alys' heart skipped a beat; could they help Ugauc? Could they save him?

    Her joy and thoughts of Ugauc flowed to the Eldunarí.

    No, I'm sorry. We cannot help him.

    Her heart sank, but she forced herself to push it aside. Pray tell.

    We have found a dragon who needs your help, Shur'tugal, Glaedr explained.

    Alys sighed, aware they couldn't hear her irritation; she was in the worst shape to help anyone. Though she could admit that she needed a distraction. I appreciate the thought, but I'm not ready to help anyone. I'd only make things worse for them.

    You misunderstand, Umaroth stated. This dragon has been without a rider for some time and is lost without them. Please, only you can empathise with him and save him from himself.

    #inheritance cycle#eragon#shruikan's rider#sr #yay new story! #totally wasn't gonna be part of my original fanfic #delighted to start this #shruikan deserved better
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  • sol-god-of-the-sun
    12.06.2021 - 1 hour ago

    Jirou x Uraraka

    Song Inspiration:

    Class 1-A is in a battle kind of like the USJ attack all over again but this time they are in the city against worse opponents and everyone is split up. Jirou and Uraraka are dating but no one knows because Jirou wanted to hide it.

    They are in the middle of the battle when the rooftop Jirou is on crumbles and breaks off and she starts plummeting off a 37 story building. She's falling when in a last ditch attempt to live she yells "Can you save me now? You were my gravity! Can you save me now? When the ground drops out I get lost in the clouds! Save me now?" Her voice carried across the whole entire battlefield to get to Uraraka. The battlefield is stunned for a second from the loud yell that obviously came from Jirou.

    Uraraka takes off in a dead sprint from where she heard Jirou. She is running as quickly she can tears running down her face running through many battles screaming out for Jirou. She can see her body plummeting head first towards the ground in the distance.

    Angst Ending:

    She watched Jirou's body plummet and was right there when she saw her body crash into the ground. She watched Jirou take the full impact and land on debris that stabbed her through the body. She slowly crawled over to Jirou who had a slight smile on her face when Uraraka cupped her face. Jirou coughed up some blood before looking at Ochaco with glossy eye's. She tried to reach out her hand to touch Uraraka's face "Hey Music Note" she had to pause to cough up some blood, her lazy smile starting to slip away and her eyes filling with tears "I guess this is it, isn't it?" Uraraka shook her head profusely "No, I'll bring you home, you'll be safe." But it was to late, Jirou's hand slipped off Ochaco's face and her hand fell limp and her head became a dead wait in the others hands.

    Once the battle was over and people start to look for eachother they find Ochaco rocking back and forth with Jirou's dead body in her arms, a giant gaping hole in her stomach. They all just watch as she sobs over Kyoka's body until the Medics come to take her to the hospital and Jirou to the morgue. It takes Shoji to pry her away from Kyoka to seperate them.

    @special-simp um, Gravity Beats Angst

    Fluff Ending:

    She made it just in time, she touched her just in time, she had activated her quirk and caught her right before she hit the Debris. She pulled Kyoka towards her before deactivating her quirk. She sobbed holding Jirou to her chest, they held each other close as they tuned out the battle around them. The whole battle proceeded without them, as they cried in eachother arm. The battle slowly ended they never left eachother's arm, though both passed out from exhaustion before the battle ended.

    Shoji ends up finding them passed out on the ground together. He picks them up and cradles them in his arms, then brings them back to where the rest of the group is gathered. Those who aren't injured fret over the two but he reassures them that the two are still alive and are just resting.

    And that is today's fic idea spiel

    #Jirou x Uraraka #Jirou x Ochaco #Kyoka x Ochaco #Kyoka x Uraraka #Spotify#Gravity Beats#fanfic writing#fanfic#fanfiction#mha #my hero academia #bnha imagines#bnha jirou#bnha#bnha uravity #mha jiro kyoka #mha jirou#mha kyoka#mha uraraka#mha uravity #boku no hero academia #boku no hero fic #fic ideas #sol's fic idea's #ansgt#fluff
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  • beels-burger-babe
    12.06.2021 - 1 hour ago

    Beelzebub's Very Bad No Good Day

    ***So this is the new format in which I'll be answering requests. In my experience, actual posts get spread further than asks do, so this will hopefully help with that. ANYWAY, I am crazy excited about this request as a major Beel simp and YES I will proudly do this request! Thank you @sinnoman for blessing me with it. -B*** Summary: Beel doesn't get anything to eat that day, and it doesn't go well for anybody.

    From the moment Beelzebub woke up, he knew that today was going to be a terrible day. For starters, he had apparently raided the fridge in his sleep the night before, so there was not a crumb left in the house for anyone to make breakfast with. Most of the others had gone and grabbed something from Hell's Kitchen on their way to class, but poor Beel had slept through his alarm due to the food coma his nighttime snack had put him and had to rush to RAD. The entire school was talking about the monster that they believed had awoken beneath the school. Teachers were on edge ready to evacuate the premises for the earthquake they believed to be happening. Beel avoided eye contact, blushing as his empty stomach continued to rumble and roar throughout the day. He ended up eating a few pencils just to get it to quiet down and even that didn't have much effect. The Avatar of Gluttony nearly cried tears of relief when the lunch bell rang. But it seemed that fate was not his friend that day. He was going to order a gargantuan-sized Little Devil mango slushy, a side of Hellfire curry rice, fried shadow bat, and 108 seed salad and the main course of at least twenty shadow hog burgers with three servings of caramel shadow tart for dessert. Beel was drooling at just the thought of it. He was almost at the ordering station when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Beel growled and turned around, baring his teeth at whoever dared to disturb him.

    Belphegor narrowed his eyebrows in concern. "Woah. Beel, relax. It's just me. We've got a student council meeting, and Lucifer has threatened to take away supper from whoever skips out." Beelzebub scoffed as the air around him darkened at the mention of someone taking food away from him. "I'd like to see him try." Belphie raised an eyebrow at his twin's uncharacteristically grumpy behaviour. "Are you alright, Beel?" As though to answer his question, Beel's stomach let out another loud roar, causing several students to flinch and Beel to scowl in frustration. "I'm hungry." Belphie's frown deepened. Beel was always hungry, but he didn't usually let it get to him like this. The younger twin rifled through his own bag before pulling out an obviously full paper bag. "You can have my lunch if you want. I ate a little bit of it during class and swiped a bagel from Mammon during the first period, so I'm not all that-" Before he could finish Beel ripped the bag out of Belphie's hands and devoured it, bag and all. Belphie blinked at his now empty hand and chuckled as Beel chewed. "Man, you must be starving huh?"

    Beelzebub merely grunted and continued to chew before swallowing down the small meal. He glanced back at the lineup in the cafeteria and put a hand on his stomach as he thought about the lunch he should be enjoying. Belphie nudged him. "Come on, big guy. We got to get to that meeting. The sooner we get it over with, the more likely it is that we'll end early and you might be able to grab something before class starts again." Only the meeting was not short and quick like Belphie had said it might be. Diavolo wanted everyone to come up with an idea for a school fundraiser, and Lucifer was arguing with Asmodeus on what was and was not appropriate. To make matters worse, you were unable to attend as, according to Mammon, your charms professor had asked you to stay behind afterwards to discuss your progress in the class. The bickering on top of the lack of food in his stomach was giving Beel a migraine and the longer he sat there, the more irritable he had become. Eventually, it became too much and he snapped. "ENOUGH!" he bellowed, flipping the table as he stood. "No one cares about the stupid fundraiser anyway and you're just wasting all of our time arguing over something that will inevitably fall apart and cause an even bigger mess, just like it always does!" "Beelzebub! Watch your tone in front of-" "Shut it, Lucifer!" his brother's gaped at him in shock as snarled at their elder. "I am sick and tired of you pushing us all around and punishing us when the slightest thing goes wrong just because you-" Beel poked Lucifer's chest hard enough to make him take a step back, "won't take responsibility for your own mistakes!" "Oh shit," Mammon whispered under his breath, as Lucifer's eyes narrowed and his body tensed in defence. The second-born quickly squeezed his way between the two of them and spread his arms to try and create some distance. "Okay! Tensions are high. People are upset. But this is not the place to brawl it out." he glanced over at Lucifer who looked like he was a second away from stringing him up to the ceiling. "Might I remind you Lord Diavolo is still in the room?" Lucifer looked over at Diavolo, who appeared to be both hurt and concerned by Beelzebub's words, before sighing and fixing his composure. He gave Beel a hard look. "Obviously something is upsetting you, but we can discuss this at home. For the time being, I recommend you work on calming yourself and clearing your head." Beel just growled at him before stomping out of the student council room. He had been about to re-enter the cafeteria again when the bell rang signalling the end of lunch hour. Beelzebub felt his eye twitch before his demon form burst into existence. He let out a deafening scream as he grabbed a table and threw it across the room (students still seated on it, included). Students were yelling and scrambling like mice as the large demon rampaged through the halls. He tore the locked grate off of the serving station and grabbed the nearest server by the scruff of the collar, causing them to squeak in fear. "I'm hungry," Beel rumbled lowly as the demon trembled in his hands. "Get me something to eat now or I will not hesitate to eat you." "R-R-Right away, Beelzeb-b-bub." Beel carelessly dropped the demon, who scattered off to gather as much food as they could. He began pacing like a caged animal. Having been alerted by all the noise, his brothers, Diavolo, and even Solomon and Simeon rushed into the nearly destroyed cafeteria. Diavolo's jaw dropped. "Beelzebub, what's the meaning of all this?" Beel's famished brain didn't acknowledge Diavolo as an authority at the moment. Instead, he was yet another person trying to keep him from eating. "I need food. NOW!" Lucifer's eyes widened in realization as he whispered something to Diavolo. The prince nodded and took a step back. "I'm sure the cooks are doing all they can to get you food right away. But I need you to control yourself before I am forced to take action." Satan had his phone out and was urgently texting someone, as Belphie moved forward.

    "You'll get your food shortly Beel. You just need to wai-" "I don't want to wait!!" There was a part of Beelzebub's brain that was aware he was acting like a child. But his stomach physically hurt from how empty it was. He was tired. He was starving. He didn't have the patience for pleasantries. "I've barely eaten anything all day, and people keep staring and talking about me because my stomach just will not stop growling and I'm so hungry that I can barely think straight! I hate it! But I know it won't go away unless I eat, so I NEED TO EAT!" The brothers looked at Beel in shock. They knew that he ate a lot, but they always passed it off as just another quirk that made him Beel. They didn't know it bothered him like this. They thought back on all the instances where Beel had stated that he was hungry out of nowhere, always with a distressed look on his face. Every single time they had brushed him off. Before any of them could respond, you casually walked into the war zone that was the cafeteria. "Alright Satan, what's so urgent that you needed me so badly?" The room fell quiet as everyone's attention snapped over to you and you took in the situation. It didn't take long for you to connect the dots.

    You immediately began to rush over to Beelzebub; Mammon stepped forward to stop you. "Woah, MC! I don't think that's a good idea right now!"

    You brushed it off and continued to make your way to Beel. Seeing you, the small human that you were, made Beel realize just how reckless he had been acting. He held out his hands to stop you and took a step away. "You should listen to Mammon, MC. I-I haven't eaten all day and I-" "You haven't eaten all day?! Oh god, this is worst than I thought." Beel watched as you slid the oversized backpack that he had seen you carry around RAD with you every day off your back and begin to dump out the contents. In a second dozens of bags of chips, candy, fruits, and other snacks spilled across the floor in front of the two of you. Beel didn't waste a single moment. He instantly began consuming the snacks, causing you to smile happily. "Wha-What?! MC?! Why the hell do you have that much food on ya?!" Mammon sputtered as he cautiously began to approach you. You shrugged. "Beel gets upset when he's hungry, and I don't like it when he's upset. So I stocked up on some of his favourite snacks a while back and always keep them on me just in case," Beel paused his eating to look up at you in awe, "He can't help that he's always hungry. It's not like he asked to be the Avatar of Gluttony." Suddenly there were a pair of arms wrapped around your waist. Lucifer, Levi, and Mammon called out your name as Beel pulled you tightly against his chest. You just grinned and hugged the friendly giant back. "Thank you," he whispered softly into your hair, his arms tightening around you just a little more. "There's nothing to thank me for." As Beel finally began to calm down, the cooks came out with platters of food and shakily laid them out around you and Beel before taking cover back into the kitchen. Seeing that the threat had passed, the other brothers began to approach as well. "You know Beel, I didn't know you had that much pent-up anger inside of you. It was terrifying!" Asmodeus chirped as he plopped down beside the two of you.

    "Yeah! You were just like the antagonist in My Boyfriend Turned Into a Cannabilistic Rage Monster, And Now I Have to Stop Him From Devouring The Whole City!!!" Levi began to ramble about specific scenes from the show that matched perfectly with Beel's rampage, causing Beel to blush as he munched on a burger. Belphie sighed and elbowed Beel as he took his seat at his side. "We'll have to make sure that MC's always around you. Just in case you know?" he smiled softly, before looking at his twin with a more serious expression. "You should've told me about all that stuff you said earlier. I had no idea you felt that away about your appetite." Beel looked away uncomfortably as he took another bite of his food and avoided the question. You snuggled closer to him, to provide him with some comfort. Satan tapped his chin as he watched the group. "I'm sure we could talk with Barbatos and come up with some sort of high-protein shake or bar that would better satisfy you. That way you wouldn't have to eat as much." Lucifer glanced over at Diavolo, silently asking if it was a possibility. The prince smiled warmly. "I'll have Barabatos begin working on something right away." Forgetting all about class and the anger that had previously consumed him, Beel looked around at his family. A warm feeling blossomed in his stomach as he felt content with the rare care and affection that they were openly showing. Maybe it had something to do with the thirty burgers he had already ate, but for just a second, Beel didn't feel so hungry anymore. ***Boy that got a little angsty there for a second, but I hope this was to your liking @sinnoman! I definitely enjoyed writing this one, and I think it made me fall in love with my boy Beel even more 🥰*** TAGLIST: @vampwiire @bunna-does-stuff

    #obey me #obey me fic #obey me fanfic #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel #obey me belphegor #obey me lucifer #obey me satan #obey me mammon #obey me diavolo #obey me asmodeus #obey me leviathan #RAD #royal academy of diavolo #my writing#writing update#B requests#bumble b#bumble 🐝#b asks#🐝 answers#🐝 asks
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  • kjmsupremacist
    12.06.2021 - 1 hour ago

    thorns just for spite alternate ending (johnny/taeyong)

    thorns alternate ending where everything goes wrong.

    you MUST read thorns (linked above) through chapter 13 before proceeding! chapter 14 is almost identical between the two versions to help orient you, but small changes have been made for tone.

    Chapter 16 - verbena bonariensis   |   Chapter 14   Chapter 15   Masterlist

    Characters: Johnny, Taeyong, the rest of ot21 intermittently

    Genre: florist!au, bakery!au, hanahaki disease!au, angst, hurt/no comfort, pining, tragedy

    Warnings: major character death, very brief and very vague suicidal ideation (nothing graphic or specific, and tossed aside quickly), loss & grief, cursing, vomit (as hanahaki involves the spitting up of flowers), blood, heavy/dark themes

    Rating: Teen & Up

     Johnny’s surprised he gets home in one piece. He’s crying so hard, and he blows past a couple of stop signs, but luckily it’s a slow and lazy Sunday, and he doesn’t meet anyone on the road. When he’s finally parked safely behind the bakery, he rests his head against the top of his steering wheel and sobs.

     Taeyong is gone. It’s not like Johnny could’ve saved him—as much as he wanted to hope for it, he knew he never would’ve been able to convince him to get the surgery, no matter what he said. But Johnny wanted to at least try. And more importantly, he wanted to apologize. He wanted to tell Taeyong he was sorry, and that he loved him. He wanted, at least, for Taeyong to die knowing Johnny loved him.

     “Why didn’t I go earlier?” he says quietly. “Why? What was I afraid of? What could be worse than this?” He slams one of his hands against the dashboard. “You fucking idiot. Maybe I should just let the disease kill me. How can I face my friends after this? How can I face anybody?”

     He cries until he’s empty, until all he’s left with is a hollow sort of grief, and then he clambers out of the car. It’s almost noon; the bakery will be closing for a lunch break soon. All the better. He feels like a child again—small and helpless against the world, longing for comfort. Except this time, it’s a comfort no one can give.

     I want to die, he thinks as he unlocks the back door and slips inside. I can’t keep living. I can’t stand it. I shouldn’t be allowed to. What would the surgery save, anyway? A shell; nothing that could be called human.  

     “Johnny-yah, is that you?” his mother calls from the kitchen. “Where did you go?”

     “Eomma,” he says, and his voice is as small and broken as he feels. He trudges into the kitchen and his mother takes one look at his face and pokes her head out the door to the storefront.

     “Put the sign up,” she says to Johnny’s father, and then crosses the kitchen to him, arms open. “Johnny,” she says. “Honey, what’s wrong?”

     Johnny collapses into her, wrapping his arms around her tightly. He thought he was cried out, but the tears come again, and he sobs into her shoulder. He feels a warm hand on his arm—his father has joined them, standing patiently by.

     “Johnny,” his mother wheedles. “Talk to us. What happened?”

     “He’s gone, Eomma,” Johnny gasps. “He’s gone.” It still doesn’t feel real, even as he says it, even as the raw pain of it claws at his heart. “He’s gone, and I feel like it’s my fault.”

     “Hey,” she says quietly. “Taeyong made his choice. You couldn’t have done anything else.”

     “But I didn’t—“ He stops himself; it feels selfish to say.

     “What?” His mother’s tone is low and soothing.

     “I didn’t get to say goodbye,” he whispers, and a fresh wave of tears crests over his waterline. “I didn’t get to say goodbye, I didn’t—”

     “I know,” his mother says. “I know. I’m so sorry, honey.”

     “I loved him,” Johnny says miserably. “I love him.”

     “It’s gonna be okay,” she says.

     Johnny pulls away so he can look her in the eyes. “How?” he mumbles. “How can it? I wish this summer never happened. I wish I could go back. I wish I could forget everything.”

     “I know,” his mother repeats. “And if—“ She hesitates for a moment, then continues, “If you’ve changed your mind about the surgery now, if you don’t want it anymore, I understand. We understand.”

     Johnny blinks, and, staring at his parents, he knows instantly that he can’t do that to them. At least Taeyong’s parents have Eunyong. His parents have nobody; nobody to help them, nobody to comfort them, nobody to take care of them when they get old. They just have Johnny. He can’t ignore that. He could never be that selfish.

     “No,” he says shakily. “No, I’ll get it.”

     “Good,” his father says softly. “I don’t think we could bear to lose you.”

     “I know,” Johnny replies. And this—the way I feel now, he thinks, I don’t want to be the reason anybody feels like this. Least of all you.  

     “Okay.” His mother guides him towards the door. “Let’s close up for today. We’ll call the doctor, and see if we can get you in for a consultation this week, okay?”

     “Okay,” Johnny whispers. He lets her guide him outside as his father starts cleaning up.

     “We’ll head home first, so you can rest.” They step outside; Johnny clings to her arm. “I’m sorry, Johnny,” she says as they make their slow way to the car. “I’m sorry. If I could take the pain away, I would.”

     “I wouldn’t let you,” Johnny says as he settles into the passenger seat. “It’s mine to bear.”

     His mother shuts the door and reaches across the console to squeeze his hand. “We’ll bear it together,” she promises.

     = = =

     Johnny fidgets with his hands in the waiting room. He threw up bright purple flowers this morning, tiny little blooms. His father looked them up in his field almanac while Johnny showered. Purple verbena, for regret. Johnny had to stop himself from laughing.

     “Seo?” Johnny looks up and so do his parents. A nurse beckons them back, and Johnny follows quietly. “Hi,” the nurse says as they get seated in one of the treatment rooms, closing the door behind them. “How are we today?”

     “Alright,” Johnny says quietly.

     “Good.” The nurse settles in the chair opposite them and opens his computer. “You’re here today for a consultation for the hanahaki surgery?”


     “Okay. We’ll get some scans from you just to see what we’re working with, and as long as nothing is out of the ordinary, we should be able to schedule you for sometime next week,” he says. “We’ll have some paperwork, but let’s get your scans in first.”

     Johnny follows numbly, gets his scans, and goes back to the room to wait. He and his parents stay silent. His mother holds his hand.

     The nurse knocks, and comes in and lays the scans out on the table. “Everything looks normal,” he says. “We won’t need to do anything special, which is good. I have to remind you, though,” he continues as he sits down, “of the potential complications.” Johnny nods. “This will take away your love for this person. You may still care about them as a friend, but you will never be able to feel romantic attraction to them again. That’s normal. But sometimes this surgery goes wrong. It may take away your ability to love, altogether. It also may take away your memories of this person. You wouldn’t recognize them on the street. There is also a slight risk of death.”

     Johnny just nods. I hope it takes away my ability to love, he thinks to himself. There’s no point. And I hope it takes away my memories, too. Then it would hurt less.

     “If you understand the risks, then please sign this form.” The nurse hands him a clipboard and a pen. “And you can visit the front desk on your way out to schedule your appointment for the surgery.”

     “Thank you,” Johnny murmurs. He thinks he should be afraid, but mostly he’s filled with a dull anticipation.

     “It’s gonna be okay,” Johnny’s mother says as they walk back out to the car. She pats his hand. “You’ll see.”

     “Yeah,” Johnny says faintly. “It’ll be fine.”

     = = =

     The funeral is set for the weekend following Johnny’s surgery. It’s good timing, all things considered. Eunyong had come in specifically to tell him.

     “It’s next Saturday at one,” she said. “I’m telling you so that your parents can go. I can’t stop you from coming, and for Taeyong’s sake I won’t make a scene if you do. But I want to make it clear that to me, you are unwelcome there. If you have any respect for him, you won’t go.”

     Johnny didn’t know what to say; he could hardly argue, so he just nodded silently and waited for her to leave.

     The day of Johnny’s surgery, he wakes early and stares listlessly at the wall, watching the path of the tiny sliver of light shining through the crack in his curtains until the gold fades to a watery yellow. September is fast approaching, and Johnny is grateful. The weather will at least fit his melancholy. He knows, though, that every summer will serve as a terrible reminder.

     His parents keep the bakery closed for the day and drive him to the hospital. Obviously, they’re not allowed in the operating room, but they promise to wait outside. His mother is afraid—Johnny can see it in her eyes—but she smiles at him as the nurses close the door.

     They get him settled on the operating table and hooked up to an IV. “Comfortable?” the anesthesiologist asks. Johnny nods. “Okay, we’re gonna put you under. Can you count backwards from ten for me, Johnny?”

     “Ten,” Johnny says. “Nine…”

     He wakes up and it’s dark outside. His parents are on either side of him, and a doctor is monitoring his vitals. He barely hears the doctor as she tells him the surgery appears to have been successful. He doesn’t need telling. He can feel it—this horrible, empty feeling in his chest. He imagines it’s similar to losing a limb—you reach down, expecting something to be there, and close your fist around air.

     Even through his exhaustion, though, when he feels around for the love he has for his parents, it’s still there, fierce and protective. He remembers Yukhei describing all of his attachment as “stunted” after his surgery, and unexpectedly, tears well in his eyes. He almost wishes something had gone wrong. Why Yukhei, and not him? At least Yukhei would have some kind of chance to love again. Johnny’s sure now that he’ll never allow himself to, even if he’s capable. He’ll take care of his parents as they grow old, find someone to take over the bakery, and then…  

     He shakes his head. Imagining his own death won’t help. All he can do is take it one day after another. Maybe his mother is right. Maybe it will get better. Maybe things will be okay after all. He has a hard time believing it, though.

     He’s discharged later that evening, and his parents take him home. He rests his head against the cool glass of the window and watches the familiar town come into view. Memories come to him like newspaper cuttings, small scenes flashing through his mind—a walk from the bakery to the coffeeshop, a moment in the market, the smell of greenery and the faint ringing of the bell as he pushes open the door of the flower shop. They pass Taeyong’s house, windows dark, and there’s no familiar aching sweetness in the back of his mind. There’s only grief.

     Johnny sleeps fitfully that night. He’s exhausted, but even his dreams are imbued with a pervasive sadness. As morning comes, he dreams of Taeyong, reaching out for his face, his eyes kind, his smile warm. So whole, so real. He wakes with a jolt, cold sweat sending goosebumps across his skin as he throws his blanket off, panting. He walks on unsteady feet to the mirror, where he can barely make out his own reflection in the light of the dawn. He reaches up and holds his cheek where Taeyong was about to touch him, and closes his eyes.

     “I miss you,” he whispers to the empty room. “I miss you so much. You can’t haunt me, though, okay? You deserve better than that. You should rest.”

     Relief mixes with the sadness in his chest as he stands there for many long minutes, waiting for the sun to rise, and doesn’t get a reply.

    #neowritingsnet#nct-writers#kpopscape#cznnet#supermwritersnet#neothestars#my work#johnny#johnyong#nct#nct fanfic#nct fanfiction#johnny fanfic#johnny fanfiction#johnny seo #johnny seo fanfic #johnny seo fanfiction #johnny suh #johnny suh fanfic #johnny suh fanfiction #nct johnny #nct johnny fanfic #nct johnny fanfiction
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