flat gaze

Hold This Heart Steady

*click thru to read on ao3

written by: Emily | @prosciuttoe

prompt: ‘Post season three, Clarke decides she needs a haircut and asks Bellamy to help her.’ for anonymous

word count: 1533

In which a haircut helps Clarke realize that there are a lot of things that she needs to tell Bellamy.

There aren’t many things that Clarke misses about the Ark. She doesn’t miss the stale, recycled air that leaves her with a sour taste on her tongue; The relentless, enduring hum of the machines lasting through the night; the too-white walls that make her vision blur and her eyes sting after long shifts at the med bay.

The only thing she misses are the bathrooms.

Or, to be more specific, the private bathrooms attached to the apartments.

She yelps when the door slams open, the sound of wood striking metal jarring against the quiet of the room. Instinctively, she fumbles for the towel wrapped around her, hefting it higher.

There’s a beat where Bellamy, eclipsed by a halo of light and bearing an uncanny resemblance to one of the Greek gods that grace the covers of his tattered novels, just sort of stares, before it apparently dawns on him that she’s not exactly decent.

“Sorry,” he says, flushing. His voice is scratchy, and she has to repress the quick shiver that rushes up her spine. “Didn’t think anyone else would be in here at this time of night.”

“It’s a communal shower,” she deadpans, relaxing and flexing her hands by her sides. “I think it’s safe to assume that there’s always going to be someone in here. Even at three in the morning.”

He shrugs at that, the motion pulling his shirt distractingly tight around his shoulders. “I can come back later, if you want. Let you finish up.”

“It’s fine,” she insists, and it only strikes her then how true the words are. “I really don’t mind.”

The corners of his lips quirk up at that; the smallest of smiles. “Only if you’re sure, Princess. Wouldn’t want to interrupt your beautification routine.”

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The Other Girl

Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre: More fluff than angst… srry anon

Admin: Risa

Summary: An argument over Jungkook’s hateful best friend causes you two to break up, but when he realizes you were right, what can he do to fix his mistake?

Requested by: Anonymous

     It had been two weeks since you’d last seen Jungkook. Two long weeks since the argument that lead to you ending things. You imagined he’d crawled to /her/ to vent- his best friend, who just happened to hate you and love telling you about it whenever he wasn’t around.

     Despite the fact it hurt like a bitch, you didn’t regret leaving him. If he was so unwilling to even talk to you when you were having a problem with someone he was close with, especially when you had gone to him for help with the issue, how would the relationship ever work? He would rather get defensive and make accusations toward you- that you were jealous, trying to control his relationships, and that you were lying about her because you felt threatened- than trust you and confront his friend about it. You weren’t trying to take him away from her, you just wanted her to treat you with respect.

    You would definitely still mope about it though.

    Ice cream tub in hand, lights off, movie on, and snuggled up to /your/ best friend, you were grieving the loss of an otherwise happy seven-month long relationship. She had sympathetically opened her arms (and her couch. And her fridge) to you in your time of need. In typical best friend fashion, she made sure to mention over and over again how much of an asshole move arguing with you was and how you didn’t need him. And when your phone lit up with his name on the screen, she also encouraged you to ignore it. But the continuous buzzing of the device coupled with your ringtone blaring over the sound of the TV as Jungkook blew up your phone made it hard to dismiss. So, against your better judgement, you began to reply.

    Within a minute of starting to reply to him, you couldn’t focus on the movie anymore. His messages were rapid fire and tinged with desperation. You could tell he was apologetic. Still, you didn’t feel ready to let the argument go. Your best friend read over your shoulder, groaning and scoffing at the screen whenever he replied.

    When he asked to meet up you let out a heavy sigh and dropped your phone onto the table in front of you, raking a hand through your hair. You wanted closure, and you didn’t want to just shut him out the way he did to you, but at the same time you had a hard time moving on from your anger.

    You refused, unsure if it was what you really wanted to do due to your conflicting emotions. But with a little more pleading on his end, you gave in, against your hovering best friend’s urges. You agreed on meeting him at the practice building before the other boys would get there, that way two two could keep things quiet and avoid catching any unnecessary attention.

Before the other members got there ended up being at eight in the morning, which rolled around more quickly than you expected that it would, despite a night of tossing and turning in bed. You had to drag yourself out of bed and skipped breakfast, figuring you could stop somewhere to get something to eat after this whole fiasco was over.

    Jungkook was already there when you arrived, and you could see through the window on the door that he was the picture of anxiety: pacing, gnawing on his lower lip, and occasionally bouncing on the balls of his feet.

    The door closed behind you with a quiet click, a stark contrast to the bang from last time you’d seen him. He immediately turned to face you, looking as if he was just relieved you showed up. He should be, you thought, bitterly.

    He took a few steps forward, hesitantly, but you didn’t move; not to back away, nor to greet him.  He faltered when he took in your flat gaze on him.

    “Y/N I- I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you,” He began. It made your heart ache to see him look so upset, and you knew he was a sincere person, but you couldn’t let him off the hook so easy.

    You crossed your arms and looked away, closing yourself off from him, “It’s not like I didn’t try to tell you.”

    “I never thought she would do something like that, please understand,” He begged, “I’ve known her for so long, I just… I didn’t expect her to be so hateful. And when you said that she was talking to you like that I didn’t know how to react.”

    You sighed, dropping your head and uncrossing your arms. No matter how mad you were, you knew he had been stuck in between a rock and a hard place. If he had said your best friend was treating him badly, how would you have reacted?

    “I know you thought you were defending her, Jungkook, but… from me? I wanted your help, not accusations.”

    Jungkook bit his lip, “I know. I should have trusted you. I should’ve at least mentioned it to her. But I fucked up and I didn’t and I thought I did the right thing until she started to talk shit about you the other day and-” He let out a shout, clearly frustrated with himself, running his hands through his hair and gripping onto the ends, before dropping his arms in defeat. “I’m sorry. I hated being away from you and I felt like shit, and I went to her to try and get my mind off you and then all she does is let me know how fucking wrong I was. I am so, so sorry.”

    You thought back through your relationship- how the happy times totally overwhelmed the unhappy, how sweet Jungkook always had been, how shy he was after your first kiss, the way he held you after he got back from tours- and the argument, how heartbreaking and confusing it had been. You were hurting, but so was Jungkook, and you knew that he regretted it and that he was definitely tearing himself up over arguing with you. Most importantly, you knew he acknowledged he made a mistake, and that he wouldn’t do it again and had learned from the pain he had suffered because of it. That was enough for you, even if you did have some conditions for him.

    “Alright, I’ll… forgive you,” you began, “As long as you trust me from now on. And talk to me if you don’t know how to confront a situation. I’m not here to make your life miserable-”

    “I definitely know that.” Jungkook joked.

    “-And I don’t want you to lose friends because of me. But I want to be respected at the very least, okay?”

    Jungkook eagerly nodded his head, bunny teeth bared in a wide grin that made the corners of his eyes crinkle up. Rushing forward with arms wide, he crushed you in a bear hug, lifting you off your feet purely to show off all while making promises you knew he would keep.

More Raven!Neil! This is coming on in in bits and pieces, but sooner or later I’ll have a complete chapter which means I’ll HAVE to start writing the thing properly.

Andrew POV for now (probably because most of H4 is Andrew POV).


Andrew thought it had been tiring enough, dealing with Kevin back in June when he’d discovered Riko’s little stunt with the district switch and everything, with the Foxes finding out that they’d be facing the Ravens on the court that season. Dealing with the coward swinging back and forth between ‘we’re not good enough’ and fighting with the rest of the rejects as he struggled to make the Foxes into some sort of team ‘worthy’ of their Class I Exy status – fighting literally with Boyd and Gordon most days, to the point that Andrew was getting rather annoyed with having to remind those two morons about his ‘don’t touch’ rule.

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Our Cloud

Prompt: Guardian

Seated in the plush red seat across from Don Pecora, Tsuna listened to his angered rant. He kept particular attention on the overweight man’s tone and body language, but he did not have concerns over Pecora attempting to harm him. At least, not by his own hands. Tsuna didn’t miss how he was placed rather neatly in front of a large plate-glass window, his back facing the scenery displayed outside. He also knew how enraged Pecora was over his continuous refusal to integrate their Families a little more closely together. Doing so would ensure a surge in business transactions, which Pecora was lacking. But the Vongola worked alone, and the Family Alliance was mostly a truce between dozens of other Mafia Families with the Vongola—to keep in their good graces.

Pecora didn’t seem to understand the role of the Family Alliance, but that wasn’t surprising. He was incredibly stupid, especially considering why he had lured Tsuna to his mansion (with rather strict instructions that Pecora preferred he come alone). Pecora seemed a bit taken aback that Tsuna had agreed but had taken it in stride. He was seeing this as a rare opportunity to rid himself of a pest, an uncooperative rival, and probably had unattainable visions of usurping the Vongola throne for himself after the assassination was completed.

He clearly did not get what ‘most powerful Mafia Family in the world’ encompassed.

Tsuna waited calmly, discretely shifting his gaze between Pecora and the watch strapped around his wrist. Pecora did not notice his divided attention, no doubt believing this was his chance to call the Vongola Don every name under the sun before he was disposed of.

Obviously delusional.

The seconds ticked down and in the moment a bullet was meant to pass through the glass and into the back of his head, the heavy oak door flew off its hinges. Pecora halted, words dying in his throat at the figure that loomed in the doorway.

Tonfas in hand, flickering with Cloud Flames, Hibari turned a murderous stare on the petrified Pecora. Tsuna stood, stretching his arms over his head and moving aside as Hibari strode forwards. He grabbed the stammering man by his neck, bones cracking beneath his fingertips, and threw him through the broken doorway.

Pecora found himself sprawled out against blood-stained hardwood, his Mafioso prone and moving, scattered down the corridor. A gasp escaped his lips when a foot pressed down against the base of his spine with deadly pressure.

Tsuna crossed his arms over his chest, expression unimpressed. “It’s very insulting, for you to think I would be so moronic as to walk obliviously to my own death. I am not quite sure what you hoped to accomplish here, other than an impulsive grab for power and notoriety. I do not tolerate those who attempt to harm me or my family. This is your doing.”

There was a sickening crack and the man fell limp on the floor. Tsuna let out a quiet sigh and turned his chin, looking down the corridor. He did not like to kill, he despised it. But he knew it could not be helped, not when they were people like Pecora who would like nothing more to destroy him and everyone he loved.

“You didn’t kill all of them, did you?” he asked his Cloud, taking in the carnage properly for the first time.

Hibari turned to face Tsuna with a flat gaze. “What do you think?”

A quiet moan sounded from the other end of the hall, and a beaten Mafioso turned over in agony. Tsuna glanced at Hibari in amusement. “Pretty sure he got the hint after the first couple of blows.”

“Herbivores like these are imbeciles. Only a strong demonstration will teach them the full lesson,” returned Hibari. “They will be scrambling like ants to restore order to their broken hierarchy. Pecora did not get around to choosing an heir. It will be entertaining.”

“Have I ever told you how glad I am you’re on my side?”

“For now.”

There was a smirk on his lips as Hibari turned and stepped over stirring bodies, Tsuna walking beside him. Hibari had taken care of every possible threat to Tsuna’s life, all before the time the plan was meant to be executed. Tsuna knew that Hibari would never fail to protect him or the others, a barrier between them and the enemy.

Gray eyes roaming over the mission file splayed out on the glass café table, Hibari swirled the water around his glass with the straw, the ice clinking together. Ensuring that everything was in order, he closed the beige folder and slipped it into his black leather messenger bag. He shifted his stare to scan the bustling street, his ire increasing when he did not spot the two illusionists amongst an otherwise faceless crowd.

They had arranged to meet him so they could hand over their reports and finish the mission file. Hibari had finished his component of the job two hours ago, and he knew Mukuro and Chrome had already wrapped up their loose ties. They had no reasons to be late.

Hibari was just about to leave when a flash of blue caught his peripheral vision. Mukuro strode down the sidewalk, a lazy expression on his features. He caught the punch Hibari aimed at his face and said, “I’m only ten minutes late.”

“It’s disrespectful to be even a minute late,” snapped Hibari. “I should have left nine minutes ago.”

Mukuro smirked. “Am I that vexing that you would leave Chrome behind to spite me?”

Hibari stared, eyes narrowing. “What is that supposed to mean?”

It was Mukuro’s turn to become confused. He had noticed Chrome was not around when he arrived, but assumed she was either in the bathroom or ordering food from inside the restaurant. “She left before me. I couldn’t locate my portion of papers, so I had to search for them. She’s not here?”

“No. When only you arrived I thought you were delivering her report as well.”

Hibari did not feel any negative emotions from Chrome, but he was not going to rule out foul play completely. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket, dialling the girl’s number. When she did not answer, he scowled and hung up. Mukuro frowned, brow furrowed. “She’s not responding to my mental summons either.”

Activating the app that let him track other cell phones, Hibari entered Chrome’s number. Immediately a blue dot appeared, a few blocks away from where they were. Mukuro peered over his shoulder and said, “Let’s go.”

Slipping a hand beneath Hibari’s arm, Mukuro transported them to the location. When they rematerialized, they found themselves outside of an animal shelter. Children and adults were playing with the dogs and cats tied to their cages. Sitting against the building, an armful of fluffy white, black and brown kittens in her arms, was a blissful Chrome.

Mukuro stared for a moment, his tense muscles loosening with relief. “Kufufufufu. Should have known.”

Hibari strolled across the street and Chrome looked up. Her eye widened at the sight of him, suddenly realizing where she should be. “I’m sorry—”

Her apology was cut off by a quiet yip when Hibari threaded his fingers through her hair, pulling sharply and craning her neck at an uncomfortable angle. “When you’re not holding fragile baby cats, you’re getting bitten to death. Be where you’re supposed to be and if you’re taking a detour, tell someone. Why didn’t you answer your cell phone?”

“I might have forgotten to turn on the ringer,” said Chrome sheepishly.

At the glower he directed at her, Mukuro strode forwards. “Relax, Kyoya. She got a little sidetracked—”

Hibari’s other hand shot out and planted against Mukuro’s chest. “You need to stop wasting my time and learn punctuality.”

His annoyance was clear, but beneath Chrome could feel subtle concern. She tugged on his pant leg. “I’m sorry. I should have let you know where I was. But I saw all the animals and I got so excited that I completely forgot.”

“Explains why you didn’t answer my mental summons. It’s never good to let yourself get so distracted,” said Mukuro, tone holding a rebuke.

“I’m really sorry.” Hibari did not seem completely appeased (considering he still had a grip on her short ponytail) Chrome extended a black kitten. “Would you like to hold a kitty?”

The kitten pawed at Hibari’s shirt and the Cloud gathered it into his arms with little hesitation. Chrome and Mukuro exchanged a grin, which Hibari did not miss. Running his fingers through the kitten’s fur, he glared at the two illusionists. “You’re both useless.”

“We love you too,” sang Chrome.

“Take out your reports. We’re getting the paperwork done now.”

“Here?” asked Mukuro, slightly incredulous as Hibari lowered to sit on the concrete beside Chrome.

“Yes. Get your sorry backside down here.”

Chrome was sure no other Mafioso had ever completed mission reports sitting on the ground, covered with kittens. But she was also certain there was no other Mafioso who could accomplish a feat while still looking menacing and threatening like Hibari.

The alley was narrow, and mostly dark with the exception of the pinpricks of dirty yellow light flickering feebly from streetlights, the bulbs most likely haven’t been replaced in years and miraculously still functioning. Footsteps pounded against the cracked concrete, curses and shouts echoing in the night air. The sounds were promptly cut off, one by one, until the alley was once again silent.

Stepping over the bald, tattooed body in front of him, Hibari scanned the area. There were no more thugs charging at him and he continued forwards. His gray eyes were focussed on the bent, rusted steel door at the end of the alley. When he was close enough he raised his foot and it look very little effort to dislodge it from its hinges.

After the dust had settled from the impact of the door striking against a concrete floor, he found himself in the middle of an abandoned warehouse. The four thugs lounging around hollered in shock and anger, immediately charging forwards. Hibari flicked them aside like ants, not breaking his stride.

“Ha ha, I’m glad to see you.”

Hibari did not respond, gray eyes critically studying Yamamoto’s condition. He used his tonfas to break the chains holding his wrists to a half-destroyed metal shelving unit and Yamamoto flexed them to get the feeling back. There were dark red marks indicating where the chains had restrained him, and his right eye was swollen shut, black and purple. There was a cut on his upper lip, dried blood creating a trail on his chin.

“What the hell happened?” demanded Hibari.

Yamamoto stood, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, I was in my car, getting ready to go home, when there was a knock on my window. There was a guy asking for directions so I rolled it down so I could help him. Next thing I know I wake up in this warehouse.”

“You opened up your car to a disgusting herbivore like this,” snapped Hibari, angrily kicking a prone piercing-laden punk in the side.

Yamamoto shrugged. “I didn’t open my car—just put down the window. He looked he needed help. I wasn’t in a bad part of town, anyway.”

Hibari shook his head in disgust. “You let your guard down.”

“I did,” admitted Yamamoto. His tone made it clear he was displeased with his inability to handle a simple situation and Hibari knew he had no doubt been humiliated by the thugs. Yamamoto’s turned more sincere and sheepish as he said, “Thanks for coming to get me.”

“Don’t be stupid. Let’s get out of here.”

Yamamoto retrieved his katana, which had been thrown carelessly aside after his assaulters had tied him up. The two walked out of the warehouse and down the alley. Hibari caught sight of a cut on the back of Yamamoto’s neck. It was most likely caused by the shelving he was chained to and Hibari said, “Are you up to date on your tetanus shot?”

“Yeah. Why, am I bleeding somewhere?”

Hibari caught Yamamoto’s fingers as they reached back to search for the injury that had prompted his question. “No, but there it is a wound. Don’t touch it or you’ll infect it.”

“Right. Hey, did you see my car?”

“Across the street, in a parking lot. Found the keys in one of the herbivores’ pockets.”

They reached Yamamoto’s car, which was relatively unscathed. Hibari removed the keys and slid into the driver’s seat. Having no protests, Yamamoto lowered into the passenger seat. “I guess they wanted my car to use for parts or money,” he mused.

“Or they were hoping to get some money out of you,” drawled Hibari, pointedly pulling on Yamamoto’s designer shirt, the logo stitched perfectly onto the right breast. “It’s almost ten thirty. What are you doing out here so late?”

“Oh—I wanted some chips, but we didn’t have any.” Yamamoto reached behind him and removed a plastic bag, where a jumbo bag of potato chips was nestled. “Want some?”

Hibari stared at him blankly before starting the car. He inched to the exit of the parking lot, rolling down his window slightly. He nimbly plucked the chips from Yamamoto’s grasp and tossed it out into the trash bin they passed on the edge of the sidewalk. Putting the window back up he pulled onto the street, smirking at Yamamoto’s rather scandalized expression.

“You shouldn’t put garbage like that into your body, herbivore.”

There was a light drizzle, raindrops gently pelting the world below. Ryohei tugged his gray hood further over his head to block the water, eyes roaming the empty park. Hibari was a few feet away, leaning against the metal pole of a broken lamppost. They were shrouded in shadows, only detectable by those who were paying close attention to their surroundings.

There had been news reports of a sexual harasser prowling parks at night, targeting young women out for evening strolls or returning home from work. As the police were having trouble pinpointing the location of his next attack, Ryohei and Hibari were tasked by Tsuna to bring this creep down.

The always talkative boxer was quiet, his body tense and senses on high alert. Hibari knew Ryohei was thinking of the girls in their household, of how they could be just as much at risk of being assaulted. It was a possibility that disturbed Hibari as well, of course, but instead of worrying about the what-ifs, he focussed his attention on finding and eliminating the threat.

After about an hour, Ryohei finally spoke. “Are you sure this is the right park?”

“There’s five he hasn’t staked out yet,” replied Hibari. “It’s the closest to the one he committed his last assault in.”

Ryohei nodded, though his expression remained uncertain. It was another hour before a scream sounded throughout the vast space. It was abrupt, so short that it could have been easily missed if they were not listening for such a sign. Hibari’s ears immediately pinpointed the direction the cry had come from and the two were running, charging down the path and into a small section of trees and bushes.

Halfway through the thicket there was a thick, burly man, kneeling on top of a thrashing brunette female, his hand firmly covering her mouth. He was wearing a baggy hoodie and one hand was working to undo his pants.

The man’s head snapped upwards at the sound of crunching branches, but he did not get a chance to react. Ryohei launched into a flying tackle and brought the man off of the girl. The Sun expressed his disgust with the man’s utter repulsive actions with his fists and a string of curse-laden insults.

Hibari strode forwards, hooking an arm around the sobbing female’s shoulders and bringing her to her feet. Her shirt was torn and she was covered in bruises and dirt, but they had gotten there in time. She choked out words of gratitude and Hibari made a noise of acknowledgement, watching Ryohei unleash his aggression.

When the assaulter was properly bloody Hibari acted, grabbing Ryohei by the back of his sweater and hauling him up. “You made your point,” he said quietly, feeling his back heave with hard breaths.

“Yeah…yeah,” managed Ryohei, struggling to see past his furious haze. The crying of the terrified girl snapped him out of it completely and he hurried to her side, setting a hand on her shoulder in a soothing manner. “It’s okay. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

Hibari removed his cell phone and called the police, relaying their location. He took a moment to break the criminal’s arm, his screams music to his ears. The cops arrived and took the beaten and blood-soaked man into custody. The girl refused to get into the ambulance without her two rescuers, so Hibari and Ryohei found themselves waiting into the hospital waiting room at one in the morning.

When his adrenaline died down and his mind was clear, Ryohei realized that Hibari only intervened to tell him that he had done enough. He studied the Cloud, expression speculative. Eyes locked on the newspaper, aware of Ryohei’s intent gazing, Hibari spoke up. “What?”

“You hate it when someone takes your prey away from you. Why did you let me do the brunt of the damage?”

“You needed it. Fighting is a thrill, a sport, an activity, a release, therapeutic. It can be all of these at once or only one. Depends on the person, on the fight. You were tightly wound up. If you did not fight the object of your agitation, your aggression, your anger, your emotions would remain bottled up.”

Ryohei was stunned for a brief moment by Hibari’s observation. Eventually he smiled and said, “You’re an interesting character. Thanks to the extreme, Kyoya.”

Warm affection flooded through his bonds and Hibari finally looked up from the newspaper, regarding the white-haired man. “This won’t become a habit,” he warned.

“I know. I just…I couldn’t help myself. I couldn’t stop thinking about the girls, about how awful it would be if this happened to them.”

“There’s a stark difference between our girls and this one,” said Hibari, gesturing in the direction where the injured female was being treated.

“What?” asked Ryohei.

“They have me.”

“Don’t you mean us?”


But Hibari’s lips turned upwards and Ryohei rolled his eyes good-naturedly, feeling better than he had all night.

The country roads snaked across sprawling green fields, seemingly endless. Gokudera’s tinted shades protected his pale green eyes from the afternoon rays. The car was silent and the radio would have been on if he had a desire to be bitten to death while he was driving. He shifted his gaze to the rear-view mirror, adjusting it so he could glance into the backseat. Hibari had his head leaning back, eyes closed and arms crossed over his chest.

Gokudera let his gaze linger before returning his attention to the road. The bright blue sky and emerald scenery was blurred by a scene flashing through his mind, replaying as if on a loop.

Finishing his meeting with Don Gemelli, he was walking down the corridor. He paused upon hearing loud voices around the corner, his name being mentioned. Being referred to as bastard spawn. Brief, obnoxious laughter followed and before he could confront them there was the familiar sound of metal hitting bone. Then there was quiet. He stayed rooted in place for a moment before venturing around the corner, where the two Mafioso were on the ground, unconscious, and Hibari disappearing out the door.

“That was a pretty ballsy move,” he said at last, his mind returning to the present. “One of those guys you clocked is the Don’s son.”

“You woke me up.”

Gokudera rolled his eyes. “You weren’t even sleeping. I could tell by the pattern of your breathing.”

“…I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You knew I was in the next corridor. I could have handled those jerks myself.”

“You were too slow.”

There was a solid smack to the back of his head and Gokudera nearly drove off of the road. “Are you trying to kill us?” he snapped. “What’s your problem?”

“The second you start believing such asinine remarks is the moment I bite you to death.”

His serious tone caused Gokudera to shift his gaze briefly over his shoulder. “I don’t,” he returned. “Not anymore. It was hard, when I was younger. I never properly knew my mother, and my life up until that was a lie. I didn’t know who I was.”

“You are who you choose to be. Your past does not have to define you.”

“I know that, now. But thanks.”

Hibari made a hum of acknowledgement, Gokudera’s contentment and affection humming through their bonds. It wasn’t the first time the Cloud had punished those for slandering the Storm’s heritage, and it wouldn’t be the last.

The warm spray of the shower coated his aching muscles, Lambo leaned against the shower wall for support. As much as he wanted to spend eternity underneath the water, he finally unfurled himself and turned off the tap. He stumbled out of the stall and used a towel to pat himself dry. He flinched at the pain that tore through his limbs as he pulled on his pajamas.

He had just finished a hard, intense workout, as well as a session in utilizing and perfecting his Lightning Flames. His body wasn’t used to such physical exertion and it was furious with him. Every fiber of his being was in agony.

Lambo walked sluggishly to his room across the hall, dropping almost weightlessly into his bed. Through the haze of his exhaustion, he managed to process that there was a glass of milk on his nightstand table. With a great amount of effort, he reached for it and chugged the lukewarm contents. The glass clattered back into place and his arm fell to his side, eyes falling shut.

He was half-asleep when footsteps crossed the threshold. Cracking one eye open slightly, he saw Hibari move over to the edge of his bed. His fingers smoothed through his raven curls and the soothing action caused Lambo to let his eye fall shut again. He felt the blankets jerk and shift as Hibari covered his body and then arranged his arms and legs into a more comfortable position.

“You did well, small animal,” said Hibari softly.

The words sent a sharp flare of pride through Lambo and he tried to say thanks, but his tongue would not cooperate. He soon fell asleep completely, and when he awoke the next morning with his muscles stiff and sore, there was a bottle of pain-relieving cream waiting for him.

Hibari was cold, aloof, violent, distant and indifferent. But those who knew him best, those he allowed to be an intimate part of his life, knew there was much more to him. He was reliable and there was never any doubt if he would always be able to come through. He was protective of those he considered his own and fought for them, sometimes subtly and sometimes obviously. He did not let his family think negatively about themselves and gave his advice when he believed it was needed.

He was their Cloud Guardian, the one who would always watch over them.

Who Will Protect You? || Peter Parker x Reader

{summary: After Peter Parker witnesses a young superhero who goes by the alias Midnight quickly diffuse a hostage situation at the bank, he begins to admire her while searching for her true self.

His search for Midnight’s identity leads him to Hagstrom Academy [1], where he briefly sees a young woman who reminds him of his favorite superhero. Convinced that she is Midnight, he takes a photograph of her and keeps her picture at his desk to always inspire him to do what’s right, no matter how difficult the situation may be.

However, things start to get a little awkward for Peter when his aunt May sees Midnight’s picture on his desk, and she is completely convinced that Midnight is Peter’s girlfriend! Unable to explain the true reasoning behind why he keeps a photograph of her, Peter must find a way to introduce her to his Aunt May…

Could things get any worse for him?}

warnings: none, just a half naked Peter near the end. But it’s nothing too explicit or sexual, really, I promise.

**don’t plagiarize/repost this story; reblogs are fine!


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dreamfar628  asked:

Oooooh! If you arill taking prompts, could you do #7 with Mitsunari and stubborn mc please?

7. “Get out of the way before I murder you.”

When you had time to reflect on it later, there were any number of possible reasons why, in that particular moment, as Mitsunari leveled his blade at your throat and uttered those murderous words, that you nearly went for his.

Perhaps it was because you had been awake nearly forty-eight hours, since there had been no one else Doctor Douzan trusted enough to assist with the surgery.

Perhaps it had been because the visiting Lord Ieyasu had already rejected your menu plan four times, and the one he was demanding required ingredients you were perilously short on.

Perhaps it was the weather, drizzly, gray, and gross.

And perhaps it was just because you were absolutely tired of having your life bloody threatened every time you turned around in this castle.

He saw it. He probably recognized what you were about to do before you did, for it seemed like your hands moved entirely on their own even as his eyes widened in alarm and shifted into a defensive counter, and it wasn’t until you heard the ringing crack of your cooking pot whalloping upside the hilt of his weapon, that you realized quite what you’d done.

Not that it mattered, really, your tongue had gone gallivanting off at full and enthusiastic speed, equally without your brain’s permission, in the meantime, “Ooooh, you just try it, Lord Mitsunari!” Your pot banged back onto your prep space as you whirled away raving, “How shall you do it this time?” Bang! The lid joined the pot, “Skewer, slash?” Crash! A spoon was now waving at his face, gripped in your hand like a conquering destiny, “Perhaps you shall just read to me and I shall die of boredom.” There were footsteps now, whispers—some of them rather gleeful—and eyes peering around the frame of the kitchen door. You paid them no heed, spoon waving even closer to a very unamused appearing Lord Mitsunari, “I shall not get out of your way and I shall not be murdered for it. Because if you do murder me, you can be the one to prepare Lord Ieyasu’s meals—“ That hit landed, you saw, in the disgusted, wretching twist of his lips, and you grabbed your pot once more, noticing as some of the other kitchen help fled immediately to the corners. Someone—Sakon, the somewhat dismayed and vastly overruled, rational part of your brain noted—was taking notes, giggling gleefully. “And you can find three more sacks of squid and you can be up to your armpits in squid slime and then my ghost shall come demand that you get out of the way or I will murder you, and you will stand there, surrounded by squid that have to be grilled in half the time, with half the help, haunted to heck and back and regret this precise moment, now won’t you?”


“Aaah…ha, oh dear.”

That was Hideyoshi, and you turned, gasping, and sure enough, he was in the doorway, smiling kindly as half the castle gathered around him. You did not quite have the courage—his gentle voice draining the fire from your stubborn soul—to turn and look at Mitsunari, but you could imagine his stern countenance, frown etched into his features and gaze flat. Whatever impulsive rage had been stirred up settled…as long as you didn’t think about what had set it off.

“Were you threatening our chef again, Mitsu? You shouldn’t do that.”

You found yourself unable to look at the other retainers, flushed scarlet, and quickly turned back to your pot, doling out squid to ready for the grill. But you felt your shoulders tense, feeling more than hearing the dismayed, “Hmph.” From the other man in the kitchen.


Silence. You felt yourself frown, chin locking in a grimace and determined to ignore him.

Hideyoshi sighed. “We all have things to be doing now, I’m sure?” The words practically sparkled, their brightness a shocking counterpoint, and you felt the footsteps scatter, with a gleeful whistle from Sakon as he offered you a thumbs up before scampering off. “Need any help?”

“No.” It was Mitsunari who answered, and startled, you looked up to realize he was across from you, glaring furiously at the pot of squid, before shoving a hand in and removing it, a skewer in the other.

You didn’t notice Hideyoshi leave, staring in shock as Mitsunari shoved the squid through with more violence than was strictly necessary, tossing it aside and reaching for the next.

“Not like—“ You started, and his livid glare stopped you. But this time, you managed a smile, sheepish but there all the same, and reached for his hands, showing him as you mumbled, “Like this.”

anonymous asked:

hey, do you know any early signs of schizophrenia? thanks :D

  1. Depression, social withdrawal
  2. Hostility or suspiciousness, extreme reaction to criticism
  3. Deterioration of personal hygiene
  4. Flat, expressionless gaze
  5. Inability to cry or express joy or inappropriate laughter or crying
  6. Oversleeping or insomnia; forgetful, unable to concentrate
  7. Odd or irrational statements; strange use of words or way of speaking

taken from here

mod rat

victuurimaker  asked:

6) things you said under the stars and in the grass + Victuuri

“Do you ever think about death?” 

Victor rolls over and raises an eyebrow. They’re laying in an grassy field they found a few miles from Yu-Topia earlier during their morning run. The sky is open above them, unobscured by trees or clouds. Yuuri is flat on his back, gaze heavenward. His bottom lip is perched between his front teeth and the stars above their heads are glistening in his eyes, tiny pools of gold reflecting against his dark irises. 

“What do you mean?” Victor muses. He glances up to the night sky himself and begins tracing constellations on Yuuri’s forearm, nails scraping gently against the exposed skin in a series of complex patterns. 

Yuuri sighs softly next to him and turns so they’re face to face. His hand comes up and laces their fingers together, warm palms pushing against one another. “I’ve been…thinking about it. Death,” he whispers, eyes averted. “What happens after we go? Will…” he trails off. 

“Will what?” 

“Will….we know…each other?” Yuuri manages to get out, voice cracking on the last word. “In whatever life is after this?” 

Victor frowns at Yuuri’s concerned expression and brings his free hand up card through Yuuri’s hair. He smiles when Yuuri leans into his touch, eyes sliding shut as he nuzzles closer to Victor’s side. 

“I don’t know,” Victor says after a long, hesitated beat. He rests his chin on top of Yuuri’s head and flicks his gaze upwards, making out the twinkling lights and hazy moon. “There’s so many possibilities. We could become one of those stars, a light in the darkness. Or maybe we’ll be reincarnated, destined to meet time and time again.” 

“Yeah, I guess,” Yuuri mutters into his neck, but his tone is flat, sad. 

“Yuuri,” Victor whispers into his dark hair, pulling him closer when the wind picks up around them. “We don’t know what happens next. Nobody does.” 

Exactly,” Yuuri mumbles back. He backs away from Victor’s embrace so he can see his face. “How do you stand it? Not knowing if this is all we have?” 

“I don’t,” he responds immediately. He feels his fingers clutching Yuuri closer to him as his thoughts begin to wander down long abandoned paths, dredging up possibilities he’d rather not entertain. “Do you think I’ve never thought about it? About how mortal we are? I have to force myself not to think about it.” He brings his free palm up to cup Yuuri’s face and melts when he leans into it, eyes going soft around the edges. “Our time on this earth is short. We don’t know when it will end.” He leans forward and leaves a soft, featherlight kiss on Yuuri’s forehead. “That’s why I promise to love you until my dying breath. And if there’s a life after this one, I’ll love you there, too. No matter what.” 

Yuuri hums quietly and closes the space between them, letting his lips drift over Victor’s. “I love you too. I always will.” 

Victor smiles widely and turns so his back is against Yuuri’s chest. He sighs contentedly when Yuuri wraps his arms around his torso and pushes up against him, body heat enticing in the cold, fall night. 

“We should probably go back,” Victor suggests when another gust of blustery wind rips through the open field, but Yuuri just pulls him closer. 

“Nuh-uh,” he mumbles into the fabric of Victor’s shirt. “This is nice. Let’s stay.” 

And so they do. Yuuri lets the tips of his fingers brush through Victor’s hair until his breaths even out and his eyes close, exhaustion from their earlier practice clearly taking over. His breaths puff against the back of Victor’s neck, a welcome warmth, and soon enough Victor finds himself curling into the cool grass, his own tiredness seeping into his bones and pulling him into an easy sleep. 

Before he goes under, Victor thinks of one thing. 

It doesn’t matter if he turns into a nebula or returns to dust or comes back as another human entirely. His ashes could mix with the ocean or his soul could ascend to another plane. As long as he has Yuuri by his side, here, now, and forever, everything will be fine. 

Reaction Ficlet : How Jungkook would react to having an argument with you

Masterpost: How BTS would react to having an argument with you

Originally posted by jayfatuasian

You stand outside the inconspicuous building, your gloved hands shoved deep into your pockets and a woolly scarf wrapped around the bottom half of your face.

After all this time, the cold here still got to you and the threat of snow usually meant you’d stay indoors, curled up on the couch and hibernating under several blankets. If you were lucky, Jungkook was in town and he’d be right next to you, his warm body enveloping yours.

“Just give the snow a chance,” he’d say, chuckling as you’d snuggle close to him. “I’ll take you to the park and we’ll make snowmen. It will be fun.”

“No,” you’d grumble, burying your face into his chest. “No, no, no.”

A snowflake drifts languidly down from the sky and you sigh as it passes before you, pulling your thoughts back to the present. You’d been waiting for him for nearly twenty minutes already and you weren’t sure how long it would still be.

As if on cue, the front door of the building opens and four men spill out, their faces obscured under beanies and scarves. You don’t need to see the face of the first one to emerge to know who it is. Your heart begins to beat a slow, painful rhythm as you wait for Jungkook to notice you. Holding the door for the people behind him, his gaze eventually wanders down the street to where you’re standing a short way off.

His eyes first slide absently over you but a second later realization hits and his gaze snaps back to you. You lift a hand and give him a small wave. 

Keep reading

The Short and Sweet Yoga Sequence You Can Do Every Morning

Regardless of how I slept the night before or what’s on my agenda for the day, I always feel more relaxed and focused after even a handful of minutes on my mat. Start your day out on a centered and strong note with this short yoga sequence that energizes your body and brain. Wake up five minutes earlier in the morning, and reap the benefits all day long.

Child’s Pose

Even after a good night’s rest, you might be surprised how shallow or hurried it feels first thing in the morning as you run through your checklists for the day. Draw your arms out long in front of you, and let your forehead rest on the floor for Child’s Pose.

Kneel on your mat with your knees hips-width distance apart and your big toes touching behind you. Take a deep breath in, and as you exhale, lay your torso over your thighs. Try to lengthen your neck and spine by drawing your ribs away from your tailbone and the crown of your head away from your shoulders.
Rest your arms beside your legs, with palms facing up, or try extending your arms out in front of you.
Stay here for 10 long breaths.

Cat-Cow Pose

Warming up your spine with a round of Cat Pose to Cow Pose will loosen up tightness in your upper body and relieve tension in your neck from how you slept. Pay special attention to aligning each movement with each breath to get the most out of this effective asana.

Begin with your hands and knees on the floor. Make sure your knees are under your hips and your wrists are under your shoulders. Begin in a neutral spine position, with your back flat and your abs engaged. Take a big, deep inhale.
On the exhale, round your spine up toward the ceiling, and imagine you’re pulling your belly button up toward your spine, really engaging your abs. Tuck your chin toward your chest, and let your neck release. This is your cat-like shape.
On your inhale, arch your back, let your belly relax, and go loose. Lift your head and tailbone up toward the sky — without putting any unnecessary pressure on your neck. This is the Cow portion of the pose.
Continue flowing back and forth from Cat Pose to Cow Pose, and connect your breath to each movement — inhale for Cow Pose, and exhale on Cat Pose.
Repeat for 10 rounds.

Downward Facing Dog

Activate your muscles, release stress in your legs and neck, and start building internal heat in Downward Facing Dog. Ten breaths might seem like a long time — but don’t bail! This pose will get the blood pumping through your whole body.

From Child’s Pose, press back on your hands, and come into a tabletop position on your hands and knees. Your wrists should be underneath your shoulders, and your knees should be underneath your hips.
Inhale as you tuck your toes under your heels. Then exhale to lift your hips, coming into an upside-down V shape called Downward Facing Dog.
Spread your fingers wide, and create a straight line between your middle fingers and elbows. Work on straightening your legs and lowering your heels toward the ground. Relax your head between your arms, and direct your gaze through your legs or up toward your belly button.
Hold for 10 breaths.

Standing Forward Bend

Standing Forward Bend is another pose that looks like it’s all relaxation, but you will feel a deep and intense stretch in your hamstrings and upper back. While the full expression of the pose calls for straight legs, if that feels like too much on your body, give a little bend to your knees to create more space. Remember to breathe deep, and come up slowly.

From Downward Facing Dog, keep your hands on the mat, and slowly step one foot at a time to the top of your mat so your feet meet your hands. Inhale with a flat back, and gaze slightly forward.
As you exhale, engage your abs to fold forward with a straight back. Tuck your chin in toward your chest, relax your shoulders, and extend the crown of your head toward the floor to create a long spine. Shift your weight forward onto your toes, trying to straighten the legs as much as possible. If this feels uncomfortable, allow your knees to have a little bend so you can focus on releasing your back.
Place your hands on the ground, fingertips lining up with your toes.
Hold here for 10 breaths.
Slowly roll up one vertebrae at a time, and step back to Downward Facing Dog.

Warrior 1

Open up tight hips while strengthening your lower body in Warrior 1. Do your best to turn and square your hips toward the front of the room while straightening and engaging your back leg in Warrior 1. These tips will help your body get the most of the stretch, and you’ll be able to stay comfortable in this pose for the full five breaths without readjusting.

From Downward Facing Dog, step your right foot forward between your hands. Turn your left heel in, press into your feet, and lift your torso up.
Lift your arms up, and press your palms together. Draw your shoulder blades down toward your hips, and gaze up at your hands.
Stay here for five breaths. Then come back to Downward Facing Dog, and step your left foot forward to do Warrior 1 on the other side.

Warrior 3

Warrior 3 is the final pose of this short sequence that will fire up your core and challenge your balance. Once you complete this pose on either side, you can look forward to a calmer commute and more productive morning.

From Downward Facing Dog, step your right foot forward for a quick Warrior 1 Pose. On your exhale, lower your torso and lift your left leg, bringing your body parallel with the ground. Extend your hands out in front of you, pressing your palms together firmly.
Press your hands together in a prayer, or extend your arms forward together, separating your arms so they’re shoulder-width apart. If extending your arms creates pain or pressure in your lower back, then bring your hands to your hips.
Hold this position for five deep breaths, then lower your left leg returning to Warrior 1, step back to Downward Facing Dog, and step your left foot forward for Warrior 3 on the other side, then back to Downward Facing Dog.
From Downward Facing Dog, drop your knees to the mat, take a few breaths in Child’s Pose, and move on with your day!


Newt Scamander x Reader-Chains

A/N- I wasn’t too well again, so I tried to pour my feelings into this piece. It’s short and probably kind of crappy, but it captures my emotions quite well. I love you all, and if you’re ever feeling down, I’m here

Warnings: implied depression and harm,  angsty and fluffy stuff too, if these themes trigger you, do not read, if you need someone to talk to, I will be here. *Hugs*


Newt hardly recognized you anymore. Where your pleasant smile once proudly sat was a broken version of it, a twisted frown, locked in a permanent position. He reminisced on the days where you used to be so full of life, so lively and free, and he would give anything to see you like that again. He wished that there was a magic spell or potion he could concoct that would bring you joy, but he understood that such a thing did not exist, even with all the forces of magic combined. He knew in his heart that you didn’t want to be this way, you didn’t wish to be in this state. Your heart had been mangled with, your mind shaken, your persona faded. But you were still you. Inside was the girl you both knew, struggling to fight the chained cage of your past and to break free of its constraint.

You sat at the window of your shared flat, gazing out to the world below. Your hair lay swept across your face like a cloak while your baggy sweater sleeves sunk past your wrists, sending what lay beneath them into the back of your mind. Newt had tried to coax you away from the window various times before, yet you simply didn’t budge. It was as if you were rooted to the spot, stuck like you had nowhere to go, no dreams to chase after like children and fireflies on a summer evening. He knew you wanted space, but he also knew that you needed something else. What you wanted and needed were two different things.

He placed his coat on a chair and cautiously approached you, avoiding the thought of spooking you. “Love, would you like to come with me to feed the creatures, they miss you,” he started, “I miss you.”

With a small sigh you silently responded, “No thank you Newt, I’m sorry.”
Newt’s heart broke. You were suffering and he couldn’t fix you. He couldn’t save you from the monster lurking in your shadow. He couldn’t save you from yourself. He decided to try again.

“Darling, would you like some tea? I have your favorite.”

“It’s okay Newt, I don’t need it.”

“But love.”

“I’m fine Newt.”

He felt shards pierce his chest and tears sting his eyes. His darling, his love, his everything sat like a fragile doll in the toyshop down the street, trapped behind the pane of glass that was your pain, isolated from the outside world. A tear began to trickle down his reddened cheeks as he brushed a hand through his hair. With gentle strides, he got closer to you.

“Y/n, please let me in. I can help you, I know how you’re feeling, and I know the pace you’re in. Please sweetheart, please. I love you too much to see you constantly harming yourself. Please,” he spoke softly while crouching down to meet your eyes.

You looked at him, mirroring the hurt and pain you saw in him. You caused this. You made the only person who ever truly cared about you suffer and sink to your level of despair. You did this to yourself, and you did this to him. Your past haunted you, closing you off from him, making him watch you alone.

At these thoughts, you broke entirely. Your heart was heavy with the feeling of being a burden. Your mind was swollen with insecurities bouncing off one another. You felt so lost and hopeless and angry at yourself for pushing him away. You felt heartless, like you made everything about you and not him.

With soft whimpers and drenched eyes, you looked at Newt expecting a returned gaze of irritation. However, that was not present. He stretched out his arms to you, allowing you to collapse into him fully. Your body quaked from the rounds of sobs that possessed you, each one driving another knife in your heart. Tears clouded your vision and you sank into his embrace more.

By now Newt was crying too, for he wanted you to be okay, but he knew that it would take time. His love was sitting here, broken and destroyed inside, but he still picked up the pieces. His lips found their way to your head and he peppered you in sweet innocent kisses filled with nothing but love and comfort. He massaged his hand through your hair in an attempt to calm you down some more.

“It’s alright love, shh it’s alright, I’ve got you. You’re in safe hands alright love. I won’t let anyone hurt you, not even yourself. I’ll protect you. I’ll care for you. Please love,” he whispered as you clung tighter to his muscular form.

He had you face him so he could place kisses along your jawline, and on your cheeks. On your neck, and on your nose. Everywhere. He needed to make sure every bit of you got the love that you deserved. His arms stayed wrapped around you, securing you in his warmth. Your hot tears still ran down your face, but Newt brushed them away.

“It’s okay to cry love, I cry too. It’s not wrong, I want you to let it all out to me. I’m here Y/n. I’m here darling.”

Newt was the only thing you needed. You sniffled quietly and nuzzled back into him. You two remained on the floor with you protectively kept in his embrace of love, shielding you from any harm. He rubbed your arms with his large hands to calm you down, and to remind you that whatever harm you had done to yourself did not make you a monster. He applied more kisses all over you, loving and cherishing and worshipping every piece of you. To him, you were beautiful, an angel descending from above. You were still the beautiful person you had always been. You would always be that person, no matter what. You would always be the one who captured his heart and held it close to your own, synchronizing the beats as one.

He would do anything and everything to help you see yourself the way he saw you. You were far from broken, and you were his precious diamond, his treasured keepsake, his other half. Newt hugged you the rest of that day, enveloping you in love and care.

“I love you darling,” he spoke, “I always will. No matter what you think, you are none of those things. You are beautiful, you are kind, and you are lovely. I will never let you do this alone. You’ll always have me right here.”

He pressed another kiss to your forehead while you relaxed a little more.

“I love you Y/n. I love you my sweetheart.”



anonymous asked:

Can you please write about Jamie and Claire's first encounter on the plane in your modern AU?

Modern Glasgow AU

Jamie Fraser settled back into his lumpy economy class chair, idly watching the passengers slowly make their way up the airplane’s central aisle. He was finally going home. Colum and Dougal had worked him to the bone these last few weeks, knowing that his time was almost up – and wanting to take advantage of his labor as much as they could. Much more than was proper, to be sure – but Jamie was willing to do just about anything to turn the page on this time in his life.

He hadn’t minded that his uncles didn’t even spring for a business class ticket. As long as he was going back to Scotland, he didn’t care exactly how – Murtagh’s snide comments on the cheapness of the MacKenzies notwithstanding. Still, he wouldn’t feel entirely at ease until that door closed shut and the plane gently pushed back from the gate.  

The stream of passengers had dwindled to a few stragglers now. Jamie stretched, hoping that the window seat beside him would remain empty for the flight. His legs always had no place to go in these cramped seats. Even sitting at an awkward angle was better than losing circulation from the knees down.

Jamie sifted through the magazines and catalogs in the seatback pocket. No good movies to be shown on this flight, and he wasn’t in the right frame of mind to focus on a book or crossword puzzle. There was always sleep, but he was still so keyed up from his whirlwind final day in New York…

“Excuse me?”

Jamie looked up, and his heart nearly stopped.

She smiled back hesitantly, curly hair askew and cheeks slightly flushed. Clearly she’d run all the way to the gate.

Jamie blinked, then remembered his manners.

“Of course,” he breathed, quickly jumping up and stepping into the aisle. “Do ye need a hand wi’ those bags?”

She tilted her head and gently eased a satchel into his waiting hands. “Sure – if you don’t mind?”

Jamie shook his head and heaved the small – but heavy – satchel into the overhead bin. “What do ye have in here? Rocks?”

She raised one eyebrow and squarely met his teasing gaze. “Textbooks,” she said deliberately.

He nodded, then awkwardly extended a hand indicating her to sit. She settled into the window seat and Jamie eased in beside her. He buckled his seatbelt and stared at his hands, watching out of the corner of his eye as she unpacked a magazine from her purse. His mind grasped at something, anything to hear her voice again.

“What kind of textbooks?”

She smoothed her right hand over the cover of the magazine – The Lancet. “Medical. I’m a nurse.”

That got his attention. “Oh, aye?” he replied, a bit surprised. “What kind o’ nurse, if ye dinna mind me asking?”

“Well, I don’t have a specialty, really. I’m an emergency room supervisor at a hospital.”

Jamie’s eyebrows shot up. “Ye live in Glasgow, then?”

“Yes, going on three years now.”

“But ye’re clearly no’ from there originally – unless yer parents sent ye to school in England when ye were a wee bairn?”

She smiled, and his heart raced. “No – Oxfordshire, originally. I moved to Glasgow with my – my fiancé, when he accepted a teaching job at the university.”

Fiancé. Of course. Jamie glanced down at her hands, neatly spread side-by-side on the magazine. How could he have missed that diamond ring? He swallowed, limbs numb from the adrenaline. What was this woman doing to him?

“What about you?”

Jamie’s eyes snapped up to hers. “What?”

She raised one eyebrow, teasing. “You’re clearly not from Oxfordshire.”

“Aye – weel. I was born at home, near the wee village of Broch Mordha, in the Highlands up near Inverness.”

“You were born at home?” Her voice was incredulous.

“It was my Mam’s choice.” He shrugged. “My family lives in our ancestral home, and all the heirs have been born there – in the same bedroom, even - since the eighteenth century.”

She shook her head. “You Scots and your traditions.”

He arched one eyebrow. “You English have a fair bit of tradition as well. The Queen and all that, aye?”

She smiled. “So, do you live in Glasgow now?”

“Yes and no. I’ve been in New York for the past two years, working with my uncles in the printing business. My time here is done, so it’s back to Scotland. My godfather lives in Glasgow, and I’ll be living wi’ him for a while.” He sighed. “I’ve got a job at a printshop waiting for me. I dinna want to do that kind of work for the rest of my life, but it’s a place to start, ken?”

She nodded. “How come –”

“Excuse me.” Jamie reluctantly turned to face the grizzled flight attendant. “Will you need a card for UK Customs?”

“No, thank you,” he said slowly, glaring at her. The flight attendant moved on to the next row without asking the woman next to him whether she needed a card – clearly assuming that they were traveling together.

Jamie swallowed and turned to face his seatmate. “How many miles do you think that one has on her?” he asked quietly.

She grinned and shook her head. “You’re terrible.”

He smiled back, absolutely entranced. “What were you doing in New York, then?”

Her demeanor changed immediately. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat and looked down at her hands – almost nervous. She twisted the diamond ring around her finger. “I was visiting Frank – my fiancé. He’s on a sabbatical at Columbia – he’s an expert in Scottish history, actually. The ’45 and all that. Columbia has some wonderful resources, and he’s trying to write a book.”

He longed so desperately to take one of her small, trembling hands into his. To comfort her, ask what was troubling her, and put her mind at ease. But he couldn’t. He shouldn’t. Another man had already laid claim to her – and what a lucky man he was.

So Jamie did the only thing he could do – find a bit of humor.

“Bonnie Prince Charlie. What a daftie that one was.”

She snorted softly, the tension broken. “Scots, as a rule, have very long memories.”

He nodded, meeting her gaze as she raised her eyes to his. “My family’s estate was never taken over by the English, not even after Culloden” he said, with not a small bit of pride. “My six-times great-grandfather was able to hold on to it. And today we run one of the largest and most prosperous working farms in the county.”

“That’s no small accomplishment,” she remarked softly. “Why did you come to New York, then? Why leave the farm?”

He opened and closed his mouth. How much to tell her, this beautiful, smart, absolutely captivating stranger?

An announcement from the flight deck, shortly followed by the terribly-produced safety video, filled in the silence between them. Their connection was broken.

She leafed through her magazine, he stared dumbly at the backs of his hands. He longed to answer her question – tell her the truth about why he had left Lallybroch and come to work for his uncles. He felt he could trust her – could open up to her – and that she would really, truly listen. Some part of him believed that by opening himself up to her, she’d want to know more about him – and come to see that he was worthy of her. More worthy than the university professor ever could be.

Enough. She’s not yours, lad. Let it go.

He turned to peer out the window at the runway, slowly tracing her profile with his eyes. Dear God she was beautiful. Funny and charming, with a solid iron core. Strong. Capable.

He swallowed and lay his head back on the headrest, closing his eyes. It was going to be a long flight.

Twenty minutes until landing now. She had settled back into her seat, but her hand hadn’t left his grip – their fingers were still tightly laced together.

And she’d removed her ring, with little ceremony, and tucked it into her purse.

“I’ll be moving out of the flat,” she said softly, gazing down at their hands. His thumb hadn’t stopped stroking her knuckles. “It’s in Frank’s name – university housing. I don’t want to spend even another night there.”

Jamie’s other hand settled against her palm, fingers idly tracing the sensitive skin of her wrist. “I’ll help ye,” he said quietly. “Ye can live wi’ me and Murtagh until ye land on yer feet.”

She shook her head. “I can’t believe this. Six hours ago, I didn’t even know who you were. And now I’m planning a new life – and you’re in it.”

He swallowed and met her eyes. “Only if ye want me to be.”

She nodded. “Yes. I do want you to be in it.” Her gaze softened. “Though I have one condition.”

He bit back panic. “Oh, aye? What is it, then?”

She smiled. “Tell me your name.”

He let out a sigh and grinned widely. “Ah. It’s Jamie. Well, James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser, if ye want to be formal about it.”

She ran the tips of her fingers up and down the inside of his palm. He swallowed. “Well then – fair’s fair. What’s yer name?”

She smiled. “Claire. Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp.” Her left hand, naked, traced his brow gently. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jamie.”

Holy God, the way she said his name…

He raised her hand to his lips for a gentle kiss. “The pleasure is all mine, Claire.”

Nathaniel knows where he is in that way where you know a place from a picture. He sees the bright orange lockers and the fox paraphernalia and flinches back, both at once ready to flee and strangely unable to move. He can feel him, that other person, whispering in the back of his mind, /home, safe, family/. He frowns in confusion, shaking his head.

“We don’t have a home. We are never safe. Family is not a good thing,” he says it aloud, hoping the echo of the words will dispel the quiet attachment that other person has foolishly created with this place. It does not. “We are leaving.”

It is necessary, Nathaniel decides, he must keep moving, one step ahead of danger and three steps ahead of commitment. It is the only way to survive and if his mother taught him anything it is that survival is /everything/.

But there are voices, vaguely familiar, instantly setting him on a razor edge. His eyes flicker to the exits and escape routes he has already memorised, ignoring the way the nauseatingly bright flash or orange in his peripheral makes that other person sigh in longing. Three figures burst into the locker room, a symphony of noise for all that they do not speak. Nathaniel winces anyway, unused to the racket of many people in a place. It was always just him and his mother and that other person. Then just him and that other person.

Sometimes Nathaniel wonders if that other person would leave him too. He does not know why the thought makes him want to scream.

“Uh, hey Neil? What are you doing?” One of the intruders, /Nicky/, asks. Nathaniel glances up from his clenched fist, training his stare on the one who spoke. /Nicky/, that other person insists again. Nicky Hemmick backs away, gulping nervously, “whoa, what’s with the Andrew Eyes? What happened?”

Nathaniel does not reply. His vision is entirely swallowed up by an impassive, golden gaze. /Andrew/, that other person says, something complicated and dangerous in the thought. He steps back from Andrew Minyard.

“Who are you.” It was not a question and Nathaniel struggles with that inbuilt instinct to lie and run. Lie and run. Something like a memory but almost a dream tells him that it would be a bad idea.

“Stop fucking around, Andrew. Its Neil,” Kevin Day huffs, ignoring the scene before him in favour of his exy uniform. Nathaniel has met Kevin Day before, when the black ‘2’ on his cheek was a reinforced bruise rather than an ink black scar. Nathaniel’s attention is recaptured by Andrew Minyard. He supposes he should flinch from that flat, probing gaze but he could not, not with that other person feeding memories into his mind. /Home, family, safe/.

Nathaniel reaches into his pocket and lets his fingers curl around the key resting there. The teeth dig into the flesh of his hand. He releases a shaky breath.

“That isn’t Neil,” Andrew Minyard sayd softly, although soft perhaps is not the right word. Nicky Hemmick looks like he is beginning to understand something, it makes Nathaniel uneasy, that the other person has remained in this place long enough that other people are learning his habits. Their habits.

“Oh,” Nicky Hemmick says.

“Who are you?” Andrew Minyard repeats, this time with an edge of something more, voice no longer flat and bored. It is a curious thing, the way even the barest flicker of something in those hazel eyes has Nathaniel’s heart pounding almost violently. He can barely hear himself over the roaring of his blood.

“My name is Nathaniel Wesninski,"he says. "It is time I officially met you.”

1. Start in a full arm plank position, looking just ahead of your fingertips. Your shoulders should be pulled back and down, your hands directly under shoulders, abs pulled in toward the spine, and hips slightly tucked.

2. Step or jump forward with your feet on the outside of the hands and come into a squat. Sit low into the squat, make sure your back stays flat, and gaze straight ahead.

3. Repeat for 30 seconds, as fast as you can while maintaining good form.

“If I could, I would kiss all of your scars away.”

“Don’t say things you don’t mean, Tucker.” Kenny says quietly, his voice flat. He keeps his gaze trained on the wall, too exhausted to even turn around to face the raven behind him. Why the hell is he here tonight? It’s been a pretty shitty night. When he got home from school, he found out his brother got arrested and they’re holding him up in Barrie; they won’t even be able to make bail for him in a month, which is after the trial and sentencing anyway. Then his mom had a breakdown, and he spent the whole afternoon trying to calm her down and keep her out of sight from Karen, who decided to go to a friends house anyway. Then his dad came home drunk and flipped out over the littlest thing- Kenny forgot to do the dishes after dinner or something stupid. Not only did he break all the good plates left in the house, but he decided to beat the shit out of Kenny, too. Then he threw him into the front yard by his hair, tossed his shoes out behind him before slamming and locking the door.

Not that Craig knows any of this. Kenny’s never been very good at talking about his life at home, which is exactly how he fucking likes it. No one needs to know his personal life; if they did, they’d go running for the hills. Kenny just showed up at Craig’s door, bloody and shivering and asking to stay the night, and Craig let him in. He’s been going to Craig more and more lately. Kenny thinks he puts up with him because he gets it. He never questions anything, and he lets Kenny fool around with him, so that’s a plus. The raven has never said anything like this to him before. Not unless they were drunk or high, at least. And the worst part is, Kenny wants to hear things like that from him. He wants something with Craig, but he’s too scared to speak up. Kenny is known for fucking things up- just look at his past meaningful relationships; Bebe can’t even be in the same room as him, and Kyle can barely stand to look at him. He doesn’t want Craig to be some old story.

“I’ve got a lot of scars. You’d be doing a lot of kissing.”


Living With You

read on ff.net and ao3

one / two / three / four

tags: @beaxnalu, @ftfanfics

rating: t+ for sexual joking, swear words, and mild smut later on

pairings: nalu, slight gajevy this chapter, possible mentions of gruvia later on

characters: natsu, lucy, gajeel, levy, gray

summary: Finding herself thrown out and drunk after a party wasn’t the way Lucy expected her night to go. After blacking out and waking up in a room with three men, she has a decision to make: will she stay or will she go? Loosely based on New Girl. Roommates!AU

Natsu’s steps echoed down the narrow hallway as he carried a large bag of Chinese food on route to Lucy’s hospital room. Thankfully they got her there in time before anything else bad could happen, and she was safely tucked in her bed sleeping when Natsu had left. Now that he was back, what was he to do about her situation?

Running a hand through his hair and dodging a nurse and three doctors carting around an old man, his own anxiety started to seep through the seams of his carefully planned life. Natsu didn’t think that something like this could have such an effect on him. It was like the night when he found her passed out: she looked so serene that he could have thought she was sleeping if it weren’t for her body being slightly limp. In the moment, Natsu took the lead but he was scared to death. She wasn’t exactly close to him like the others; they were just getting to know one another. But he did know that he enjoyed her company, and that’s what made him so nervous.

Keep reading

There Are Places I Remember

“You have so much pain in your heart.”

I glance at the ground

Slowly look to return their gaze with flat eyes,

What of it?

“Why do you hold onto it, what could you possibly lose from letting go. Are you really so afraid of what you will find under there?”

They shift in their chair

Uncross their legs

Recross their legs

“You can’t know what to say, how can you answer me a question you haven’t even answered for yourself.”

I stare them in the eyes

Match their breathing

“There isn’t anything for you here, nothing I can do for you. Come back when you are alive, or dead. Your moderation disgusts me.”

I pass by a dozen wooden hatches on my way out

Each one with it’s own manic scream behind it

Each one pounding and scratching

I step through a large metal doorway

It slams and latches behind me

I wake up

Two men standing over me

Lights reflecting off the windows

Asking me if I am alright

Telling me I can’t sleep here

I talk my way out of it and walk home.