#( i can adjust if you see anything that wouldn't fit for whatever reason )

[anquenin]

" come on. have a taste. "

it sounded like a devil talking. tempting. and there was the thought for astarion to think, that certainly there was a devil talking to him. the woman before him. salvation. no other gods would listen, no one cared. and he knows to an extent that astarion is convinient. but here it's safe, and here it's decadent, everything he could've wished for. no longer had he had to be bound to the chains cazador had him in. the rules changed, and maybe his luck too. and he starves. he starves, and has been like this for so long. blood spilled calling for him. drawn, he walks slow. doesn't trust her. he would never trust a vampire again. he did that mistake once. ( but she seems different. it's all the same. but different. ) she was the one to kill cazador, he understands it is not out of the goodness of her heart. but when she extends the blood in a cup. when astarion has been hungry. barely fed. it's hard to deny himself. it's over, he can have everything he could possibly want. starting now, starting today. he takes the cup and holds it to his lips. the smell dizzying, perfumed even. red eyes look at her. trying to figure out any emotion. anything happening, before he drinks. and it's nothing like he has had before. it overflows, drips down the edges of his mouth. stains his shirt. it feels almost like a gift. a promise. of what's to come. of what will be. he doesn't trust his voice to speak. he doesn't say anything. eyes on hers. did he tell you he did not feed us properly? did you just know? astarion instead licks his lips. "-it's warm still." he points out, not as a complaint. just to say something. he says it with difficulty, like he's still processing it. the blood, the taste. the delicacy in it all. it could be his. it would be. it was.

@victo1re

[kob131]

There's only three things I disagree with here.

The first is one I can see, even though I think it gets a little overblown. When Yang was recounting events, she explicitly states that she had waited for Tai to leave. This not only meant that she knew she couldn't do this with him in the house but them being alone wasn't a common enough occurrence for her to rely on. I am not saying Tai didn't shut down- I am saying that this specific instance is a shade better.

The second is the idea that she would have insulted Tai or something of that sort. Even when she was at her lowest emotionally, Yang didn't lash out about him. And when Raven outright insulted Qrow and Tai, Yang IMMEDIATELY boils over. I am uncertain about this being what you intended to say though.

Third is the 'moping' thing. Context is important and this context severely changes things.

You're right. It's not coming back. But that doesn't have to stop you from becoming who you wanna be. You're Yang Xiao Long, my sunny little dragon. / You can do whatever you put your mind to. So whenever you're ready to stop moping, and get back out there, I'll be there for you.

Of my three points, this is the one I am sticking on. The framing of that word in the post implies that Tai was unintentionally calling her depression moping in an act of ignorance or a fumbling of words. No, Tai intended on downplaying her depression to emphasis the control she has over her life, her strength and his support for her. Just previously the show established the two were okay enough with each other to have an argument and bounce back.

And really, wouldn't this make sense from his perspective? From the perspective of a man who nearly lost his kids because of not one but two mistakes he made in his depression? Wouldn't this be the application of the lessons he learned from his experiences and trying to impart them to Yang?

Obviously I like Tai. And this is why. I've gone through the same depressive spiral like Yang. Not for the same reasons, god no. But I know what's like to be in her head space. Hell, me and Yang even share similar temper problems. So I feel as if Tai's actions were as correct as they could have been in the V4 situation.

Tai is not the best dad in the show. That would be Ghira. But considering where he started from and how well adjusted Yang and Ruby were at the time of Volume 1- It's kind of amazing he's currently the frontrunner for second place.

P.S. I couldn't fit this in anywhere but: Tai couldn't really help Yang recover any faster since, well, Yang didn't want to. It's the same situation with Yang and Ruby in V9. Hell, Yang turning down the arm is kind of a less emotional version of Ruby refusing to talk to Yang in E1- You can't help someone when they aren't willing to be helped. All you can do is wait.

P.P.S. Also this is not me trying to force you to agree with me or anything. This is just all I have to say here.

The Tai discourse is back. And honestly? I agree with points from both sides. Tai loves his kids. Tai also neglected his kids. These are points that can't be denied by either side. I would say...Tai is not a bad dad. But Tai is not a great dad. We've seen both in this series and Tai falls somewhere in between. When Yang says "He just kind of shut down" people like to say she said kind of not fully. But...well of course she did. These girls never outright insult their father and she was only trying to connect to Blake. The picture we see on screen is Tai sitting in his room staring at a picture. It also can't be ignored that Yang managed to get a sleeping toddler into a wagon and out the house and somewhere in the woods before anyone was able to find them. I'm sorry but that takes time. Yang is only two years older than ruby. A 5 year old is gonna have trouble lifting a 3 year old. And Yang felt the need to bring ruby anyway. So Tai either wasn't home or...wasn't paying attention. Neither great. And it was Qrow that found them. But it can't be ignored that the Boba thing means Tai was present again.

I think what it is, truly is with Tai, is that he doesn't know how to deal with the big hard emotions. Like when he calls yangs depression moping or he shuts down himself. He himself couldn't handle his own depression let alone his daughters. He doesn't know how to have those talks or how to give a hand up, After all Summer is the one who came and gave him a hand after Raven left. So he makes jokes and tries to push them onward. And Yang adopted making jokes for hard situations from him. Ren calls her on it. She learned it from Tai. She picked up on him doing it to handle hard moments.

It's not the greatest thing. It's not. But from what I've seen Tai is not the worst dad and also isn't the best. I don't know if we can say he tried his best but I think we can say he did try. Tai loves his kids. But he doesn't know how to handle big, hard emotional moments.

[rizubaby]

Danganronpa V3 Kinks & Headcanons (males)

genre ; nsfw headcanons.

summary ; my interpretations / headcanons for the boys from DR V3; what they're like in bed and what I think their kinks are.

tags ; mentions of various kinks / vulgar language.

note ; these are just my personal interpretations of the characters. Some may not agree or have other headcanons, which is fine. To each their own. ♡

This is an 18+ post. Minors dni.

Shuichi Saihara

Shuichi is definitely a switch. Nothing new.

He'd be shy at first, not really knowing how to let loose. I think once he's explored your body and himself a bit more, he can really be a great lover / sexual partner.

He quickly realises what turns him on; your thighs, your soft moans and god, your hands. Whenever you touch him, gently stroke his cock or run your fingers through his hair when you two make love, it drives him nuts.

When he's topping, he's very gentle and very careful not to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. You'd have to reassure him he's doing great, and with enough encouragement, he'll let go of all his worries and listen to your begging for him to go faster/rougher/etc.

When he's subbing, he'll let you take the lead (which is most of the time anyway). He's well aware that you are crazy for him and that you love to tease. He loves when you're dominant and show him what you like. He knows he's safe in your hands, so he'll let you have your way with him.

Gonta Gokuhara

Oh, my sweet baby boy.

Gonta is truly a gentleman in bed, which is a surprise to nobody. Though he has a much darker, wilder side to him as well.

The first few times you two had sex he was extra careful not to hurt you in any way, keeping his impressive stature in mind. He'd be very patient and loving. He loves your little whimpers and the looks of lust you give him. It makes him so flustered and he'll only want to fuck you more.

After a while though, his wilder side will start to creep up on him. Being raised in the wild and all, it's hard for him to contain those primal urges, and they will inevitably come out. He'll want to make you his forever, and in nature there's only one way to do that: mating.

When you let him have his way, he'll turn into a completely different person, and there's no turning back. He goes absolutely feral, his primal sexual urges taking control and wanting to breed you until you collapse. He'll mark your entire body with hickeys and his strong grip will give you bruises that last for days. Seeing you writhing beneath him makes him lose his damn mind.

This fucking dude.

Kaito Momota

Foreplay usually doesn't last very long because this man doesn't know self-restraint. He just goes fucking wild, so much dirty talk and he's so fast and rough, my god. Just seeing how horny you get when he touches and kisses you in the right spots already makes him rock hard. There's literally no room for you to top him, he won't let you.

I imagine him to be very into quickies. Just taking you somewhere for a quick fuck and leaving you trembling, trying to hold yourself together afterwards makes him so satisfied it's actually mildly infuriating. Getting to destroy you with his huge cock anywhere and anytime he wants really strokes his ego and makes him grin from ear to ear.

Kaito's got a lot of stamina, so prepare yourself for that. With this guy, the sky isn't the limit.

K1-B0

Okay, hear me out.

I headcanon that Miu did some sort of modifications on him and he can now simulate lifelike male reproductive organs.

That being said, he really had to adjust and learn about his new features lol. He's learnt a lot about sex and everything that comes with it — he eventually even developed his own preferances, and dare I say, kinks?

I think he'd be fascinated with your reactions to all the pleasure he can give you, even if it's artificial. He loves being able to learn more about human desires and intimacy, and he's become much more human-like because of it.

His favourite thing is definitely that he can simulate his own cum. He knows how much it turns you on, so he gets very happy when you moan and beg for him to cum inside you (or anywhere else, for that matter). He loves intimate sex, because he feel like he can truly connect with you on an emotional level.

Rantaro Amami

Rantaro is one of those guys that everybody lusts after, and for good reason.

His whole demeanor is enough to make anyone weak to their knees. He's really chill, almost a tad bit sadistic with the way he looks at you. You can just tell he's planning to do all kinds of naughty shit with you, and it'll be a while before he's done.

This guy is into it all. Rough play, BDSM, edging, you name it. Whatever you're comfortable with, of course. He loves spanking you or holding you by your throat, his jewelry jingling while he does makes it even hotter.

I think he is a switch, but he definitely likes to top. He likes to order you around and call you all kinds of names. Just imagine him sitting in a chair with his legs spread apart, ordering you to suck his cock with that low, raspy voice of his. He lowkey likes to watch you struggle a lil' bit.

This guy knows how to pleasure you and he's very comfortable with himself. Don't expect to walk away from him without having had at least three orgasms and a sore throat.

Kokichi Ouma

Kokichi is a brat through and through. He likes teasing you A LOT, making you hot and bothered and then pulling away to leave you helpless and unsatisfied, snickering maliciously.

While he loves to tease and be flirtatious with you, he'll quickly turn into a little freak when he decides he's had enough. He's borderline sadistic and enjoys surprising you. Somehow he always manages to do something you weren't expecting, but it makes it all the more enjoyable.

He loves it when you do little favours for him, or when you act all submissive around him and he gets to have fun with you. He loves using toys on you and seeing your lewd and embarrassed face. His absolute favourite toy is a remote controlled vibrator.

He uses lots of dirty talk, loves degrading you and making snarky remarks when you're acting out his orders. Definitely into some sort of roleplay/power dynamic.

Korekiyo Shinguji

He's a fucking sadomasochist. Nothing new here folks.

He loves S&M, it's basically 90% of the kind of sex you two have. While he can be romantic too, he just loves to hear your cries of pain and pleasure. He won't go too far of course, he's still a man of dignity and he knows where your limits are.

He's great at aftercare. After such rough sex, there's NO way he wouldn't care for his queen. He gives you soft kisses and gets a damp cloth to put on your scratches and bruises. He'll praise you, telling you how much he appreciates and loves you and that you did very well. He really appreciates when you care for him too, and he'll shower you with love.

He owns lots of toys, which is fitting for someone with an S&M kink. He likes using a gag ball and handcuffs on you, so you are completely submitted to him. He can have his way with you all he wants, and hearing those muffled moans make him go into a state of pure bliss.

Loves using a whip, too. Seeing your ass turn red with joyful tears running down your face just makes him cum instantly.

[bangtanpromptsfics]

moonflower.

dialogue prompt #6: “It's 3 o'clock in the morning”

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: established relationships, fluff

word count: 1,550

warnings: making out

summary: a 3am walk in the city with your boyfriend

a/n: got this inspiration from an instagram reel and I wanted to transfer that entire feel into this one shot. hope you guys enjoyy and please drop feedbacks it really boosts motivation!! p.s as soon as I completed this, butter official teaser was released SOOOO EXCITED!!!

masterlist

“It's 3 o'clock in the morning”, you take a breath in and resume kissing him, hands tangling in the locks at his nape.

“I know”, he rasps, pulling back to bring your foreheads together, taking a moment to immerse the image of your swollen lips and cold skin of your face “It'll be fun baby”.

You don't know who exactly started kissing. Jungkook came back from his night shift not long ago and he expected you to be asleep. But he was beyond happy to catch you peacefully listening to music and waiting for him, paying attention to arbitrary details of the city still alive below. What began as a welcome kiss soon turned into a brief makeout-session, the first press of his lips against yours truly reminding how much you missed Jungkook throughout the day.

And during small breaks of catching each other's breath, he suggested for a night walk, much like a date since he had been too busy this week.

“Okay”, you huff, still feeling your chest squeezing together to get the normal breathing rate. A smile tugs at his lips and with one final smooch he leaves you to change your clothes into something safe enough for walking through the cold night.

Maybe it's because you had been with Jungkook for so long that you basically adapted a lot of his fashion sense and little habits. When you step out of your small shared apartment, you both look like members of a punk band, all black and leather.

Jungkook smiles down at you, remembering how much you have changed, it felt like you grew bored of colors as well, much of your aesthetics going monochrome at this point. There was a time Jungkook even went worried about it, thinking you were somehow adjusting to him. But you reassured him that he was all the color in your life you needed.

Jungkook interlocks fingers with you, squeezing palms together as he leads the way down stairs.

“Where are we going exactly?”, you ask, an obvious curiosity he hasn't clarified yet.

“I don't know really. We'll figure that out”.

He always had a way with words which made you warm and curious at the same time. You just smile in return and wrap your hands around his leather clad arms and walk along.

You liked this. Dates with no particular destination to be in. Just strolling till your legs are tired, eating street food, getting coffee together or studying at the public library because your apartment is located at a not so silent heart of the city.

And you liked Jungkook very much too. It sometimes feels like lopsided that it demands to overflow from underneath your skin, and sometimes when you are making love to him or cuddling his head close to your chest, you believe he feels it too.

It hits you all of a sudden that you never shared those three words. Never ever uttered them in this two years of relationship and you question them now. Totally random of a realisation just like the day you woke up in a cold sweat accepting to self that you have to confess to Jungkook.

The first place you stop by is a heavily packed food truck selling korean food. It's a usually visited one so Jungkook ask for the customary meal, fire noodles. His favorite of street foods not because there wasn't anything better, he just adored your blush flushed face when you are done.

“Babe?”, he tears open the ketchup and squeezes the content with his chopsticks while watching you, “you good?”.

Apparently you had spaced out, still fueling on the thread of thoughts from earlier. You ground yourself to the present in a jolt, “I'm alright”. You give him a nervous smile.

Jungkook pulls his chair close to yours so that your arms and knees are touching, your skin growing hot despite not touching your noodles yet.

“What are you thinking about hm?”, he demands to know, but not intimidating you more than the point. He busies his hands mixing the ketchup into your noodles instead.

“I love you Jungkook”, you blurt, eyes planted on a random spot on the ground waiting for an outcome.

“And you realized that now baby?”, he chuckles, watching you all shy. He places his noodles from his lap to the table in front to fully face your direction.

���I love you too baby, so much. And I've said that so many times before, when you are sleeping, or when you were not listening. I think I was not as brave as you”, he confesses.

Your chest swells in warmth knowing he had always told you this. You peck his nose and dig into the food, finally able to feel the hunger settling down.

Content with the late night meal, you begin to stroll again after Jungkook laughs and cups your flushed red face. You always hated spicy food as a child but then this is another one of those quirks you caught up being Jungkook’s girlfriend.

“Where do you wanna go baby”, he asks, feeling lost of a trajectory for the date and now you are equally lost too, dwelled in the fact that he will lead the night.

“I don't know”, you state and at the sight of a specific place you continue, “wanna get some drinks?”.

Jungkook immediately giggles, “We both know you lose your mind over half a glass of rum love”.

You knit your brows together for a pout, “Well then you can carry me back home can't you? That would be romantic”, you press yourself to him for no apparent reason.

“Carry you all the way home?”, he muses, holding your whining head softly on his palms while pecking your forehead.

“C’mon Koo then why do you workout for three hours all day? Make some use of your muscle”

“Oh I make plenty use of these muscles and you know it”, he teases back and you smack his arms in response.

After a few very cliche comebacks you both agree to drink the night away. Good thing that Jungkook had a good tolerance to alcohol among you two. Carrying his drunk body single handedly for a smaller human like you would be a tedious task. The math was correct here, and so you start slurping your glass of whatever cheap whiskey they had.

You were enjoying all of this, truly to the core and to the point that you swore there is nothing better to life than this. But Jungkook always felt otherwise.

You see, you are not a rich couple. Just normal millenials who go to college supported with scholarships and debts to pay, several part time jobs and a very low key life where you prioritise your expenses and plan finance together. A couple who has not went on classy restaurant dates in glittery tight fitting dress, or even a sundress and expensive suits. He always wonders about the things that could make you happier and maybe one day he can afford that Italian restaurant you once said is really nice because your sister was proposed by her husband there. You'll look so beautiful in a dress and he can't wait to allure on that.

“Koo?”, you slur, already feeling consciousness leaving your body, “What are you thinking about now hmm?”

He smiles faintly at you swirling his drink and bringing it to his lips to think upon the answer a bit.

“Nothing babe. You look so beautiful right now”, he says.

And immediately you search for a reflecting surface to check yourself out, and that's because you're drunk. Your more sober self usually ends up processing a lot of butterflies at the pit of your tummy.

“I am!?”, you beam, finally able to see a very blurred something of your bummed out face with hair falling over and maybe there's even a little dried drool at the corner of your lips.

“Yeah”, he giggles, scooping you up in his arms for a tight hug, “Let's get home shall we?”

“Carry me pwese”

“C’mon love”, he helps you climb on his back for a piggyback ride, “I'll carry you”.

You tug your limbs a little tighter around Jungkook, he pats under your thigh to loosen up so he can walk. He listens to random mumbles you are whispering to him and he smiles occasionally, carefully paying attention to everything.

“I love you so much sometimes I don't know what to do with myself”, you say and Jungkook stops dead in his track to process the words a bit.

His skin turns red which you can't see and probably you wouldn't mutter such things on your sobering. And he is glad. Glad to know that you are content with what it is. His mind stirs around, his own set of booze blazing the thought further.

“Why did you stop Koo? You tired? Should I carry you?”

“You love me that much?”, he asks, completely dodging your questions.

“Yes. So much”, you kiss his cheeks, pressing down harder then usual to prove your point.

He is convinced you are the one who has a way with the words. You say things which brings him to his knees and you remain so oblivious to it.

“Let's get you home”, he states through a smile.

Thank you so much for reading!! ♡♡

Original Content of ©bangtanpromptsfics

[katriniac]

Ooooooof. This was difficult to stop at just one favorite, or even four. So I did almost all of my faves!

😅😅😅😅😅

Starting with my tutorial boys/guidance counselors:

Sasuke - Ikemen Sengoku

He's my #1, and therefore, he will have the best thing ever: a hoodie! With funny nerdy slogan. I will promptly steal his hoodie. This is a move he will no doubt have anticipated, so he'll pull out an EXACT duplicate and pronounce we have reached #CoupleGoals because we now own matching shirts. I love my ninjenius. 💚

Blanc - Ikemen Revolution

A light gray/blue softer-than-clouds waffle weave long duster that wouldn't normally look attractive on men but somehow Blanc manages to pull it off just fine. He will delight in trapping and wrapping me within the voluminous thing, claiming he lost his glasses and needs to keep me this close to see my cute face. ASDFGGHJKLMMMMM

Sebastian - Ikemen Vampire

To keep from overheating while he works hard, he wears a thin cardigan. The narrow sleeves hug his biceps. A crisp white button-down shirt is his hallmark under the soft layer. He soon discovers that I prefer a simple tank top under the cardigan when it is Snuggling Time™️

Nobunaga - Ikemen Sengoku

You might *think* this red hooded sweater is overly simplistic for such a powerful man. But you'd be wrong. It's woven from sustainable bamboo, manufactured by a group of war widows, a small start-up he invested in and helped to promote. That pattern you see? They named it after him because he was integral to their success. The bamboo is soooo soft, that when he holds me close I just mush right into his broad chest. The best part? On those rare moments when I actually make him blush, I can pull the hood up to hide those red cheeks so no one can enjoy the sight except me! Hee hee! 😉

Shingen - Ikemen Sengoku

*sputters incoherently* Um, yeah... Fluffy sweater. Hard muscles. Um ... *giggly gibberish* Yeahhhh ... that's all I got. Why am I wasting time writing this when there's a half nekkid Shin waiting with two mugs of hot cocoa? GOODBYEEEE!

Kanetsugu - Ikemen Sengoku

Glacial grey wool fitted coat over a monochrome sweater vest. Necktie and dress shirt are perfectly adjusted. He looks completely put together. Contained. In control. Just under the thin ice is a simmering hot springs. When I give him that *special* glance, he's quick to throw off the tidy layers and tug his tie loose with a primal snarl.

Comte - Ikemen Vampire

This cashmere sweater with leather elbow patches screams "old money". It's my favorite thing for him to wear when we cuddle by the fireplace. I love how it always smells like him, even after being washed. So soft, so warm. I'll admit it: I've worn it without anything else on and crawled into his side of the bed just to be wrapped in his scent. *melts into a puddle*

Artem - Tears of Themis

A shawl collar fits this old-fashioned guy. The cobalt blue brings out his beautiful eyes. The chunky texture keeps it from looking too stuffy and uptight. And he always wants to wear it because I bought it for him. The smile he gets when he repeats that reason? Oh goodness gracious, that smile could get me to agree to anything. You want 14 children, Mr Wing? Okay. Whatever you want, hunny.

Dean - Ikemen Revolution

So neat. So tidy. So perfect for torturing me when he pushes up the sleeves and rolls back the cuffs of the dress shirt. He KNOWS that is my weakness. And then he stalks back and forth in front of the blackboard, smacking his "professor's pointer" (*cough*RIDING CROP*cough*) against the palm of his hand as he waits for me to answer his pop quiz. Oops, guess I'm gonna fail because I was too distracted ... looks like I'll need to stay behind after class and do some 'extra credit' 😏 No one in the college would ever assume a devilish deviant would wear such a clean cut cardigan! 🙄

Sariel - Ikemen Prince

Even when I begged him to update his wardrobe and add some casual pieces, he still couldn't break away from his favorite color: black. As I roll my eyes and guffaw at his goth-boy-at-heart sweater, he levels those hypnotizing amethyst eyes at me and smirks, but stays quiet as if he's enjoying a joke only he knows. "What? WHAT." I demand, half annoyed, half playful. He waits a beat before opening his mouth, as if contemplating sharing the joke. Finally his smirk grows wider as he leans in to whisper, his hot breath raising goosebumps on my neck, "Admit it. You think the buckles are sexy." Dammit. He's right. He's always right.

Keith - Ikemen Prince

Chunky cable knit wool cardigan. Thermal Henley shirt pulled taut against his massive barrel chest. Carhartt pants and steel-toed Redwing boots. The hard-working outfit of the most helpful, most modest prince on the continent. "And the most handsome one, too," I am quick to remind him. His surprised eyes and shy blush are too cute to leave alone. I push the attack with little kisses to his nose and forehead and cheeks while I tickle his rib cage mercilessly. Keith is too sweet to go on the offensive, yet enjoying it too much to retreat. But I wonder how alter!Keith will retaliate in the morning? 😏 Heh heh, I can't wait!

Jin - Ikemen Prince

Oh. Yeah, he knew EXACTLY what he was doing when he picked out that sweater. Wait -- did he dry it so it would shrink ON PURPOSE and mould around his sculpted muscles? Seriously? Seriously. Jin. STAHP. *bursts into a fit of laughter* You're already the hottest thing on two legs, darlin. Why are you like this? You know, the tighter that sweater is, the harder it will be for me to peel off of you. Just sayin' 🥴

Trey Clover - Twisted Wonderland

No surprises here. Level-headed choice. Easy maintenance. No frills. Well made and quality materials. It's perfect. Just like you. Understated and reliable. Such a wise and practical choice. I whisper in his ear, "But you know, dear, you can go wild every once in a while and choose something that isn't machine-washable -- or something you'll only wear once. Gasp!" He gives me an almost imperceptible roll of the eyes before flashing that cocky grin I love, and whispering back, "The only time I go wild is with you. In private. I prefer to keep it that way, baby girl."

Jack Howl - Twisted Wonderland

Hiking in the Shaftlands was supposed to be the perfect autumn vacation. Fresh air, leaves turning color, and miles of wilderness for just the two of us. So why can't I keep my thoughts out of the gutter every time Jack rolls up his sleeves and I see his powerful forearms, or when I can't take my eyes off his massive thighs, or when he growls a little in his throat -- wait, why is he growling?? He has stopped walking, and I bump into him, his thick fluffy tail rubbing against my stomach. "Katie. We're almost to the cabin. The scent of your arousal has been hitting me constantly for the last mile. Don't worry, I'll be sure to take good care of you once we're there." Oh! Such a good boy! I could practically jump for joy if I wasn't already so tired and horny. Instead, I wrap my arm around his for support and nuzzle into his plaid shirt to hide my grin.

Malleus - Twisted Wonderland

Aw, did the lonely edgy emo boi buy another sweater from Hot Topic (or whatever the equivalent is in Briar Valley)? He poses with dramatic lighting for the latest magazine cover shoot. But all he can think about is how I'm waiting for him in the graveyard at midnight. Meanwhile, I'm shivering and wondering why I had to fall in love with an immortal dragon prince who loves wandering through desolate ruins? Why couldn't his favorite place be the beach? But when he suddenly appears though a green mist of magic, and he wraps me in his arms and many layers of cozy black sweater, pledging never to keep me waiting for him ever again, whispering apologies, vowing eternal love, and sinking his fangs into me, well ... I suppose I could forgive him this time.

Azul Ashengrotto - Twisted Wonderland

He wasn't satisfied with the silvery lavender sweater I gave him. "Layers. I must have lots of layers. That's what all the fashion blogs are saying will project an air of success and power. I need more layers." As we left the store -- him bundled up in layers of silk, cashmere, and Marino wool, and me guiding him down the stairs since he couldn't see over his scarf -- I muttered something about needing an extra closet just for this outfit. His sneaky reply? "Don't worry about putting it away. You just concentrate on having fun stripping it off me. And since you were such a good girl and so patient while I shopped, I'll reward you with a little bit of tentacle time. You'll like that, won't you, hm?"

Albert - Midnight Cinderella

His Majesty insisted. What was Al to do except comply? With the royal charge card in hand, we went to the Stein mall. He balked at the price of a leather jacket, but the staff's salespitch about the longevity convinced him. Then it was off to fetch a stack of identical button-down shirts and khakis. Last was a serviceable walnut-colored pullover. He held his hand out for me to pass it to him, but I clutched it to my chest. "No, I'm not letting this get paid by some royal stipend. I'm buying this for you myself. So that every time you wear it and I cuddle next to you, I'll remember that I made that cozy moment possible because it was my present to you. I want to see you wearing something I gave you." Al's face flushes pink as he pushes up his glasses to stall for words. It's not until we're riding back to the castle that he finally has decided on the perfect reply, "The smile I wear is always something you gave me. Tonight I'd like to see you wearing the smile I gave you. Just that. Only that smile and nothing else. I need to repay you for the sweater and the attack of cuteness in the store." ASDFFGHJKKHGFDGHHG

Sid - Midnight Cinderella

How? HOW. How does he make a zip-up hooded sweatshirt look THAT sexy? It's criminal. He knows he's several illegal levels of handsome as he pulls open the dressing room curtain. "Whatcha think? Not bad, right?" The cocky smirk and dancing light in his eyes are too irresistible, and I fail to formulate a snarky comeback. Instead, I grin and silently pile several other outfits into his arms. "Well? Don't just stand there, stud. Time to model all these other sexy clothes for your girl. Especially those jeans that hug your ass nicely. Ooh! Can't wait!"

Robert - Midnight Cinderella

"It's a little *too* avante garde, isn't it?" His reluctant question was punctuated by his fingers fidgeting at the asymmetrical hem. I swooped in between him and the full-length mirror, taking hold of his wrists and guiding them around my waist. My hands splayed out over his chest, luxuriating against the supple weave of the angora wool. "Mmmm...no. It's perfect for your presentation. Besides, it was a custom-made gift from your benefactor. It would be rude to refuse it. Especially when your girlfriend thinks you look so handsome in it." I looked coyly up at him, hoping my reassurance wasn't too over-the-top, even if it was all true. I rubbed my cheek against the candyfloss-softness, humming in cozy contentment. He chuckled at the image it made in the mirror, "Okay, okay, stop petting me, you're being too cute. If you keep it up, I won't be held responsible for the damage this sweater may take." His tone rolled down to dangerously sexy levels. I knew I had won him over for the sweater, AND maybe even scored myself some 'private' studio time with my favorite artist, heh heh 😏

Daily qs have been loaded back up into my server and we have some fall related ones slowly coming out, and I wanted to post a few as they pop up and hear y'alls responses...because its cute.

Question of The Day:

The weather is getting colder out and the leaves are changing- this calls for warmer clothes! Are their any outfits you'd like to put your fave in, or maybe perhaps cute matching outfits you'd like to wear with them for the season?

[straydawg-writing]

𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞'𝐬 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦.

- 𝓚. 𝙯𝙤𝙡𝙙𝙮𝙘𝙠

• hunter x hunter series

⋯✰⋯

Chapter 2–

You knew that if anyone outside of this car saw you right now, you might just pass away. To put it simply: You were sitting on Killua's lap.

All because Kite's truck only fit seven people.

The way this predicament came about would have been comical if it weren't for your burning embarrassment. Unfortunately, you could remember very clearly how it all unfolded:

"Hmm, it seems that there aren't enough seats for all eight of us, so one person will have to squish in," Kite said, opening the car door to check the seats.

"Who's the smallest one here?" Gon asked. All seven pairs of eyes turned to look at you.

Great. The benefits of never having had your growth spurt.

Killua was the one to open his mouth, snickering, "Obviously it's Y/N. She's like a midget!"

"Killua, you are literally an entire 2 ½ feet shorter than Kite over there," you defended yourself.

From a distance, you had guessed Kite was around 6'3. Once you got a closer look at him, you discovered that he towered over you like a skyscraper. Your curiosity got the best of you and naturally, you had asked him what his height was. The man was a whopping 7 foot 10.

"It's okay Y/N, you can squish with me," Gon offered.

Killua shook his head. "No way. Squishing will just make everyone uncomfortable. It's better if only one person suffers. Y/N, you can sit on my lap."

He had left no room for argument. Sighing, you knew that even if you tried, you had no say in this anymore. You would just have to suck it up for the next 4 hours.

Now you were here, sitting on him, worrying about whether you were cutting the circulation off to his legs or not. Or perhaps you were too bony and it was hurting him.

You could feel his warm breath on your neck, and it sent goosebumps across your entire body. This was beyond awkward.

"Stop it," Killua muttered, right in your ear.

Oh, you'd done it now, hadn't you? Killua was gonna push you off onto Gon instead.

"Stop what?"

"You're so stiff, just...relax," he paused, "I don't mind sitting this way."

Hearing his voice so close to you sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

Maybe this was okay.

You untensed, trying to adjust yourself to a more comfortable position, but the bumpy car ride wasn't making it very easy. Kite ran over a rock, and without a seatbelt it sent you jerking upwards. Thanks to his fast reflexes, Killua gripped your waist, holding you tightly to his body.

"The seatbelt won't reach over the both of us, but this'll keep you from flying."

"Heh, thanks Killua. I think we should reach the beach in a bit..." you said, hoping that the thought of it being over soon might offer him some relief.

It doesn't matter who it is, being this close to someone could send anyone into a frenzy. You were hyper-aware of every one of his fingers grasping onto your waist. He wasn't lying. He was keeping you right there.

You'd just have to stop thinking about it, you told yourself. Or else you'd go crazy.

Trying to relax back into Killua like he had asked, you let your mind wander to the reason you were driving in the first place. The day before, the three of you had decided to stick with Kite and help him investigate the Chimera ants. The beach you were headed to now is supposed to have a clue about where the ant queen is located, so you could bring an end to the destruction before it starts. During the car ride, you had learned they were a truly deadly species. One bite of an innocent passerby, and they had the means to bring the entire human race to extinction.

You felt like something was starting. And your intuition was rarely wrong.

Gazing at Gon who had been talking with Kite for a while now, you noticed how his eyes crinkle into little smiles whenever he talks. You knew that having Kite around, his father's best friend, surely excited him to the bone. Gon was just oozing with optimism, without even trying. You could tell that just by being himself, he was keeping the spirits up of all eight in the group, not allowing any room for doubt or fear to creep into anyone's minds.

At that moment, you swore that whatever happened, you would be there to protect Gon and Killua. Even if it costs you everything.

Hopefully, this wasn't one of your friends' last few moments of tranquility. But if it was, you were determined to spend it well.

Resting your head against Killua, you hoped that he wouldn't mind if you indulged in this for just a moment. You were tired, having not gotten much rest since completing Greed Island and meeting Kite.

It didn't take much time for you to fall asleep to the rise and fall of Killua's steady breathing and his sweet vanilla scent. If you'd been awake, you might have even heard his heartbeat racing beneath you.

⋯✰⋯

You had finally reached the beach.

Killua had nudged you awake once you'd gotten there. You remembered how his blue eyes stared back at you as he poked your face, calling you an idiot for falling asleep, and you chuckled.

There was one thing you were clueless about; Killua had made sure not to move even once the whole rest of the car ride. He was nervous that he might disturb your peacefully sleeping form.

You were still pretty groggy as you looked out at the sea, the bright sun reflecting on the ocean's surface. You wanted to wiggle your toes in the sand, but you were there for a reason. To find anything that might lead to the Queen.

You searched in bushes, behind rocks, under seashells, and even used your nen to sift through as much sand as you could. So far, the group had ruled out the forest and deemed it difficult to know if the ant even ended up on the same island. That's when they decided to release the hellhound. Well- it wasn't a hellhound. It was the little dog you played with yesterday. Along with Gon.

Gon was following behind the dog on all floors, sniffing the ground as he went.

"He can do that?" You asked no one in particular.

"His nose is as sharp as a dog's," Killua responded, watching Gon with an amused look in his eye.

A couple minutes went by with no luck. The only thing the dog had found was a tree to pee on. It looked like the ant wasn't going to be on this island, though Kite had an idea.

"It may have washed ashore somewhere else. Which direction do the currents flow here?" Kite asked the two that had brought us down to the beach. One was short with brown skin and grey hair that sprouted up like hay, while the other had large glasses and two front teeth poking out from his mouth.

"The direction is reversed between day and night. And it also changes with the seasons. I've even heard it's different on certain days. So it'll be tough to pinpoint a location..." said Chipmunk Teeth. That's what you'd call him, since you hadn't gotten his name.

So basically, no one had any idea on how to find the Chimera Ant Queen.

"Continuing to search blindly is pointless. We should return to YorkNew and see if we can find any new leads there."

You heard the group around you agreeing with Kite. He and his friends began walking back to the truck already, but you stayed put. You would catch up to them later.

The ocean reminded you of your home. You thought you should say goodbye to it first.

Ripples of water lapped gently at your feet. You always had a connection with nature. Having lived in a small village located in the middle of a jungle most of your life, the earth had become your dearest friend. One of your earliest memories was from exploring the coves back at home. You stretched out your arm across the water, and watched the liquid softly rise to your hand as you called it.

That's why you chose this nen ability. It tied you to the elements. When you fought with it, together you were one body.

"Y/N, come on! Kite's threatening to leave without you," Gon waved you over. Taking one last look at the sea, you turned away.

The sun was already setting by the time you left for the city.

⋯✰⋯

Going back to YorkNew was the right decision. Now you all knew where to look.

Kite had discovered that the possibilities of the Chimera Ant landing in NGL were the highest. Apparently, NGL was a country populated with people who wanted to get away from machine civilization and live in nature.

You loved nature too, but you thought that was a little extreme. There was a reason you had to leave your beloved jungle behind.

"There may very well be a giant swarm of Chimera Ants already hunting humans down. If that's the case, my top priority will be saving them. You must be able to protect yourselves," Kite warned us.

"And if I am the one in trouble, you should escape without me."

At that, Gon and Killua looked unsettled. But backing down now was not an option.

"Got it," you said, breaking the silence and offering a kind nod to Kite, "and until the very last moment, the three of us will have your back."

"Yeah!" The other two boys concurred.

Now, you sat with Gon and Killua on an airship to NGL. The three of you were sitting on a bench, looking out of a window that framed velvet-peach clouds displaying brilliant silver linings.

Gon was reflecting on their last conversation with Kite.

"You said that Ging had a reason for bringing me and Kite together," he rested his arms and head on the window-frame.

Killua broke his sight from the clouds and looked at Gon.

"Yeah, I did."

"You're probably right. I don't know the reason, but I can't give up halfway, no matter what's going on. Otherwise, I'll disappoint Ging... And I'd never be able to forgive myself either. So I won't run away," Gon continued, resolved with his decision.

There was a moment of silence as the three of you let his words sink in.

You admired Gon's determination, but you hated that Ging had a son risking his life just to avoid disappointing a dad he's never met.

"Man, you had this totally serious expression, so I was expecting something big. But it's just business as usual," Killua smiled.

"Huh?" Gon's mouth hung open. "I thought about this a lot, I even ran a bunch of mental simulations! And I liked what Y/N said earlier, about having Kite's back until the very end."

"Think all you want, but you'll still be Gon. If someone said to abandon them, you'd never do it," You lightly punched his shoulder.

He pouted, cradling where you hit him, and you rolled your eyes.

"Drama queen."

Gon chose to ignore that and turned back to Killua. "Then what would you do?'"

"I'm a spontaneous guy, so I'd think about it once the time comes."

"So, you'd run away?" Gon questioned.

"Depends. I can't say until it actually happens."

"Say for instance..."

Killua threw his hands up, beat, "I can't tell you what I'd do in a hypothetical situation!"

"Then, what about you Y/N?"

"Gon!" You whined.

Truth be told, you hadn't thought about what you would do. It depended like Killua said. But you did know one thing...

"I would never leave you two behind. Even if that meant I'd have to die."

⋯✰⋯

[mylifeisactuallyamess]

General Hux x Female Reader/Ben Solo x Female Reader

A/N: This is a heavy chapter, Hux is just not coping 🥺

Warnings: lots of feelings and angst, implied suicidal thoughts

Word Count: 4411

Read Chapter 21 here on AO3

Masterlist

The day your husband woke up will never leave you. His body seemed to come to life before your very eyes, choking on his tubes, arms flailing against the wires as he tried to get his bearings. It wasn’t until you grabbed his face making him look at you, his beautiful green eyes dull and sunken but something sparked in them when he saw you. Hearing your voice calmed him and he lay back down, his eyes fluttering with sudden exhaustion and sinking back into sleep. You refused to leave him, not caring or paying attention to anything else on the base so much so that Poe dragged in a cot for you to sleep in. Rose and Finn would come in, bringing food and sometimes they’d stay and keep you company but everyone was so busy adjusting to a new way of life and making room for all the people that were now residing on Ajan Kloss.

Mitaka was the person you saw the most, he had recovered from his surgery and he told you how he had saved Armitage after he was shot, immersing him in the strongest solution of bacta he could find and moving him over to the Finalizer. He had then turned the ship against the Final Order, taking significant damage and finally arriving here only to plough the dead ship into the surface of the planet. Most of the time he just sat with you watching over Armitage like a silent guardian.

You were taking one very rare break from being at your husband's side, feeling the sun on your face and the breeze in your freshly washed hair. You felt the tightening of your belly but wearing the light clothing that had been given to you meant you could hide the changing shape of your body for a bit longer. You heard a noise, slowly opening your eyes you saw Kylo approaching. He looked different, the scar that you had traced so many times with your eyes was gone and he looked similar to when you had first met him, except now he was dressed like you. A shirt, leather trousers and boots, his hair was longer than you remember and his expression was softer, sadder even. He stopped a few large paces away, his eyes locking with yours when he saw you watching him.

“I heard what you did,” you said, turning back to bask in the light of the sun.

“I remembered what you asked me, how you asked if this war was over soon.” You dipped your head and scuffed your boot along the floor.

“What of it?” You asked.

“I remembered the desperation on your face and that’s what drove me to end this.” You let out a soft laugh.

“Don’t fool yourself.”

“It’s true!” He exclaimed, stepping towards you but you turned your angry gaze to him making him stop once more.

“You could have ended it at any time!”

“No! Not after he, him, Palpatine made himself known, if I had stepped down and disintegrated the First Order he would have swept in unchallenged and taken over the Galaxy yet again!” His expression was pleading as he tried to get you to see. “I had to wait, I saw the opportunity after Rey died and I took it. I had a choice and I hope I made the right one.”

“I guess we will see,” you replied, beginning to make your way back.

“How is Armitage?” He called after you but you didn’t stop.

“Like you care,” you shot over your shoulder suddenly wanting to be a million parsecs from him.

Hux’s recovery was slow but most of that was because he refused to talk, he would eat and drink and even walk around, using you to lean on but he would not talk. It frustrated you, making you grind your teeth in annoyance whenever you asked him a question and he stared into empty space like you weren’t even there. He got stronger but his nightmares got worse, his entire body would shake, sweat would drench his bright hair and he would yell so loudly. It ripped you to pieces seeing him so broken but refusing any sort of help. His body grew stronger by the day, no longer using you to balance himself and the walks you took lasted for up to half a day as though he couldn’t bring himself to return to the base.

You moved you both out of the medbay and into a hut, they were everywhere spreading far and wide to accommodate the people that now called this place home, the Resistance and First Order finally living in harmony. You felt a swell in your heart every time you looked at the encampment, a sadness that littered your soul when you realised the massive scar that now rendered the Galaxy. Many of these people didn’t know who their families were, where they came from. Some had nothing left and like you, nowhere to go. What had really been achieved except for the pain and suffering of all these people?

You sat up one morning, instantly noticing you were alone and panic slithered through you. You rushed out of your hut, barely pulling your boots on before you were charging into the jungle. Each pound of your heart matched the hurried rush of your feet and you retraced the paths you took with him everyday, but he wasn’t there. You tried to calm yourself but knowing how damaged he was inside you kept thinking the worst so you pushed yourself harder, struggling through the jungle only to happen upon the lake where the Finalizer still sat, dead and lifeless.

You nearly cried with relief when you saw him, his red hair a crowning glory in the early light of the day, his arms crossed as he stood like a statue surveying the broken remains of what used to be his home. You slowly approached, highly aware of how similar this was that rainy day on the estate.

“Are you just going to stand there My Lady?” You sucked in a breath, your eyes closing in relief at the sound of his voice, your heart beating with joy for the first in months.

“I do not mean to intrude,” you breathed hating the way your voice wavered with emotion.

“You’re not,” he replied but still he didn’t take his eyes off his ship.

“I’m so sorry Armitage,” you whispered.

“I should be the one apologising,” his face twisted with anguish and he turned away from the sight before him. “I’m sorry I ever married you and dragged you into this.”

“Please don’t say that!” It took you a moment to realise he wasn’t stopping and you hurried after him but he stayed just out of reach until you both got back to the hut. “Armitage!”

“You should just leave me, I’ve had plenty of time to think about it. I should stay here and face whatever punishment they deem fit.”

“This isn’t all on you, you can’t take responsibility for the entirety of this war!”

“Someone has to,” he muttered.

“It’s not your fault! I refuse to lose you again!” You almost screamed, making him look at you in surprise. Many emotions flitted over his face before he settled on that blank expression you knew so well.

“Why are you fighting so hard for this?” He asked dully.

“Why aren’t you fighting hard for this?” You cried back.

“You’re better off without me,” he shouted. His expression now one of distress as he ran a hand through his hair. “Everything is gone, everything I’ve worked for, fought for it’s all gone!” You went to reach for him but he pulled away from you, backing into the wall. “You don’t want me, you don’t need me. Just leave me alone!” Tears streamed down your face as his voice cracked, your heart was breaking from his words.

“You are worthy of love, Armitage.” He smirked and shook his head.

“How can you say that? How can you say that after what I did?”

“You didn’t have a choice,” he moved further away from you. Disgust lacing his features but you didn’t know if that was because of you or himself.

“Of course I had a choice. I could have gotten us out of there if I so wished.” His gaze rose to meet yours. “He got you out didn’t he? So why didn’t I?”

“Armitage please!” But he was beyond reason, lost in the hatred of his actions.

“You are better off without me, go to him, Kylo. He’ll look after you far better than I ever could.”

“Armitage, wait!” You followed him out of the hut, painfully aware that everyone in the vicinity was awake and listening to your conversation.

“No, nothing else you can say will change my mind…”

“I’m pregnant,” you blurred out loudly and you saw his back stiffen when he jolted to a stop, the few people you could see made shocked faces and disappeared into their huts. Finn and Rose paused to the side no doubt holding their breath as they watched the scene unfold before them. You wanted him to turn around, you wanted him to run to you, lifting you in the air with excitement but you knew he was going to be conflicted about this. Finally he did turn, his eyes on your hands as you twisted them nervously.

“Is it mine?” He asked stiffly. The question had you sobbing, you expected it, of course you did but you had hoped he wouldn't sound so indifferent about it.

“Y-yes.” He nodded before striding off. Words failed you, watching him leave you like this shattered your heart into pieces, littering the floor with your pain. You wanted to scream, to ask him to come back to face this with you but he was gone.

“C’mon sweetheart. He’ll be back.” Poe gently guided you back to your hut, you had no ideas where he had come from but you were grateful to him.

“How can you be sure?” You asked quietly, wiping your face.

“Well for one he’s got nowhere to go,” you glared at Poe through your tears but he at least had the sense to look ashamed at such a comment. “And two,” he continued. “For all his faults, Hugs is loyal to you. He’d never admit it to anyone, probably not even himself.”

“You don’t know him like I do,” you said softly.

“What’s that? I’m right? Yeah I’ll take it,” he smiled kindly at you. “I’ll go get some caf. I’ll be back ok?” You nodded, the smile leaving your face as soon as you were alone. You heard him talking to Finn and Rose, their voices trailing off as they walked away. You gently put a hand on your stomach, hoping Armitage came back soon. Poe came back and spent some time with you but you couldn’t follow the conversation, your eyes trained on the door waiting for Armitage to come back. Finally he made his excuses and left you alone, but it didn’t last long.

Your thoughts scattered when the door opened and you stood up, a flush creeping over your skin, a name on your lips but you couldn't utter it. Because it was the wrong man.

“You’re pregnant?” He asked incredulously.

“What do you want, Ben?” It still felt strange to call him that.

“I had no idea,” he rumbled.

“Yes you did. It’s why you saved me. Isn’t it?” He was too big for your space and you wanted him to sit down but you also didn’t want him to stay. “On the Finalizer, sending me to the Resistance you were giving me a chance with this baby.”

“I couldn't see you get killed!” He snarled curling his hands into fists. “I waited for Armitage to betray the First Order, his beliefs, to prove his love for you and he didn’t.”

“Because you would have killed him as soon as he put a foot wrong!” You hissed at him, trying to keep your voice low.

“Maybe,” he admitted. “I guess we will never know.”

“Please, leave me alone. He won’t come back if you’re in here.” You turned your back on him, hoping he’d get the message so you missed the crestfallen look on his face. The way his large hand went to reach for you but then he thought better of it and moved away.

“I didn’t want to hurt anyone.” You turned to reply but he was gone, the door closing softly behind him.

You paced, watching night fall beyond the walls of your little space, the fauna coming to life in the darkness and you sighed, trying to hold back the storm of emotions that threatened to engulf you yet again. You just needed to know he was alright. Your legs tired and you finally lay down, closing your eyes but sleep didn’t come so you stared at the door, tracking the rough wood yet again until he came back.

You sat up on the bed as the door slowly opened. He stepped in, his boots dragging on the wooden floor with each step, he didn’t look at you and instead rested heavily against the closed door. The fire had died down and there was silence outside indicating everyone was asleep. He slid to the floor, resting his elbows on his knees and thumping his head gently back onto the door. He looked exhausted in the dim light, his clothes slightly muddy like he’d been out trekking, his hair was wind swept but still as vibrant as ever. You ached to hold him close, to breathe your love into him so he could feel it but you knew he’d probably reject it right now. He was hurting, still coming to terms with the loss of everything he thought was important. He was having to rebalance, finding out the world did not run on the need for power and dizzying heights of control took time getting over. Nevertheless, you slowly slid off the bed kneeling just a few paces away from him, your hands clasped neatly in your lap as you gazed at him with sorrow filled eyes. The need to speak was driving you crazy, words filled your mouth before filtering out into nothingness not making it past the barrier of your lips. His eyes were closed, a pained expression pulled on his face and for a moment you thought he’d fallen asleep against the door when he shifted. His eyes opened and you rushed him, pulling him into an embrace that for once he didn’t fight. Neither of you spoke, taking the time to breathe each other in, accepting the first moment of comfort you had taken from each other since he had woken up in the medbay. He was warm and firm in your arms, alive and breathing as he wrapped an arm loosely over your back.

“Come to bed,” you whispered. “Please?” He had been sleeping in a chair no matter how many times you had offered him the bed he had refused to take it, until now. He stood almost swaying as you led him over, making him sit down so you could remove his boots and muddy trousers before letting him slip under the covers. You went to move away to let him rest alone when his hand shot out and grabbed you.

“Stay?” He asked softly and you tried not to smile. He moved over as you got in, not sure if he wanted to be touched or not but that uncertainty was banished when he pulled you tightly into his embrace and for the first time in a long time you felt contentment.

You awoke early again, feeling refreshed after a deep sleep because Hux hadn’t had a nightmare. You slipped out from under his arm and got dressed in some fresh clothes casting one last look at him you smiled before heading off to get some breakfast.

Poe was up early, sorting through the fresh supplies that had been brought back on the Falcon last night.

“Morning sweetheart, you look better.”

“I feel better,” you responded. “The trip was successful then?”

“We need to do another, even with people leaving to find their own way through the Galaxy there are still some arriving here because they have nowhere else to go. This lot won’t last us that long,” he commented.

“But it will do for now, you should be proud, General. You have created a safe haven for those who would end up wandering lost.” Poe sighed and you placed a comforting hand on his arm. “You know I will help if you need me to.”

“You already have your hands full,” he replied quietly.

“I am hoping my news will help him sort his priorities.” Poe’s eyes lit up and he grinned.

“A little bit of good news amongst the stress, how are you feeling? Here take some extra food,” he offered you.

“Poe I can��t, you have so many people to feed…”

“Would you just take it?” He growled, forcing more pouches into your arms. “I’ve got bottles of water as well…” you waited patiently as he retrieved a little crate and you placed it all in there, activating the hover mechanism on it.

“Thank you Poe.”

“Go go, I’m so busy,” he said, smirking, giving you a wink and making you laugh.

“Alright I’ll leave you to the very tedious task of counting!”

“Yes, thank you!” He called after you, picking up his datapad.

You had a little bounce to your step as you made your way all the way back to your hut, opening the door and guiding the crate in, you didn’t see Armitage sitting up at first. You closed the door and turned to give him a smile but the scene before made your blood run like ice in your veins.

“Armitage?” He was sitting on the edge of the bed running a hand over a blaster. “Where did you get that?” You asked quietly, panic licking its way through your body as he looked up at you. He looked so lost, his eyes were red and his pale skin blotchy, his red hair had lost its fire looking lank and dull as it slanted over one eye, his stubble was more pronounced today showing that he hadn’t attempted to shave.

“I just took it.” Your heart began to beat loudly, your pulse roaring in your ears, you wanted to call out for anyone but you didn’t know how he was going to react.

“What do you want with it?” You asked in hushed tones. He tapped it into his hand and you saw the safety was off, the panic heightened, thrumming through your body until it felt like all your hairs were standing on end.

“I didn’t know at first,” his voice was gravelly and tired. “But then I realised this could be it,” his shoulders rose and fell with a shuddery breath. “The answer to everyone’s suffering.”

“No one is suffering anymore,” you crouched down, slowly resting on your knees so you were on his level. “The war is o-over Armitage.”

“Then why do I feel like I’m still fighting?” He snarled. To your surprise he stood, the blaster gripped tightly in his hands and you felt like you couldn’t breathe. You were losing him.

You watched him pace in the small living area growing more agitated by the second, mumbling more to himself than you. “I am suffering, I feel so useless, there is nothing to aim for, not goals to achieve. No order, no control, nothing to strategise, no one to fight, I feel myself going crazy…” he stopped and looked down the barrel of the blaster. Your breath stilled, an ache bloomed in your chest as the seconds slowed to a crawl. Thoughts of getting up and knocking it from his hand flashed through your mind but you knew you’d be too late. “This is the only answer I’ve found,” his eyes dragged to you. His brows rose for a moment in an expression of sorrow as he took in your tear stricken face. “I’m taking responsibility….” No! You wanted to scream but the sound got lodged in your throat when his finger squeezed the trigger. You closed your eyes expecting a light, a bang, the sound of him falling to the floor, anything. But there was only silence.

Your eyes flew open at the sound of the door smashing into the wall and Ben came in, his chest heaving like he’d been running, his hand outstretched as he held Armitage in an invisible cage, he wrenched the blaster out of Hux’s frozen grip and tossed it out of the hut.

“What are you doing?” Growled Hux and his eyes blazed fiercely at the force user.

“I came to stop you,” Ben huffed, still catching his breath.

“How did you know?” You flinched as Ben pointed at you but his gaze was still locked on the ex-general.

“I could feel her heart, breaking from across the encampment.” A gasp left you as strong arms wrapped around your terrified form and Poe hauled you off the floor, also out of breath.

“I’m sorry sweetheart we came as fast as we could,” he breathed into your ear.

“Just let me go with dignity!” Hux glared at Ben as he snarled through gritted teeth.

“There is no dignity in this Armitage. You have someone who loves you, she wants you. Don’t throw that away, the chance of a life because the First Order no longer exists.”

“The First Order was my life! It was all I had!” Shouted Hux.

“And look what you have to replace it,” Ben snapped, gesturing at you clutched in Poe’s arms. “Don’t be a fool, don’t let your fathers ambitions rule even now. Because then it really all would have been for nothing. These people helping you would be for nothing.” Hux sagged to the floor with a grunt when Ben released him.

“Are you alright?” He asked angrily, turning his back to Hux. You nodded, shaking Poe off and rushing to your husband. You knelt next to his folded form, you wanted to reach out and touch him and you felt the frustration rise that you couldn’t touch him. Even though right now it was all he needed to remind himself he had you, he had reasons to live.

“You need to go. Now.”

“I’m not leaving you…” started Ben but you cut him off.

“Yes, you are. Go.” Poe tugged on the bigger man’s arm, his hazel eyes locked with yours for a moment before giving in and following the pilot outside. Your hands over your husbands shaking form but frustration made you move. Using all your might you pulled at him, making him sit up.

“Armitage!” You grabbed his face making him focus on you. His entire being quivering with pent up emotions ready to be released, his green eyes blown wide but they looked at you as he tried to keep himself together. “They’re gone, you can let go.” He sagged with relief against you, his face crumbling and you hugged him close as he buried his face into your shoulder.

“I can’t look at their faces anymore,” he whimpered. “All I see is what I’ve done, over and over again written in their eyes, in the words they say, how they act…all I see is the hurt that’s been caused, all because of me.” You held him close as he silently sobbed into you, giving him the outlet he needed without a word.

“It’s not you, this doesn’t fall on you.” You shrugged him off your shoulder, making him focus on your face. “Promise me, promise me you won’t pull that shit again!” Your profanity made him raise his eyebrows in surprise even through the storm of his emotions. “I need you, we need you,” you stressed softly. “Armitage please,” you rested your forehead against his pulling him close to you. “You are loved and needed and I will say it until you believe it.”

“What if I never believe it?” He whispered.

“We’re family. I know you’re not used to that, you feel alone, I feel alone! Our home is gone, all I have is you. And I can’t…..I can’t lose that. Please don’t make me!” You covered your face with both hands trying to stifle the sobs that shook your body. The feeling of utter hopelessness wrapped it’s fateful arms around you dragging you down into the dark abyss you’d been holding at bay for so long. You wanted to ask him why he wasn’t letting you in, to let you help him but you knew it was pointless. You went to get up, to move away or leave, just to distance yourself but your eyes flew open when you felt his fingers curl around your wet hands. He pulled them down from your face, his gaze searching yours, his expression sad as his mouth opened.

“You are my home,” he whispered.

“Armitage…”

“You want me to talk, I’m talking.” You hiccuped a breath at his firm tone, an echo of the man he used to be finally shining through, but he was right. You’d spent all the time trying to get him to open up. You should listen to him now. He reached for your cheek, his long fingers gently wiping your tears away. “Starkiller, The Finalizer, Arkanis, none of them ever felt like home after I met you. Took me so long to see it,” he murmured. “To see how you helped me face myself and now,” his gaze flicked down to your stomach. “Now you are making me see something I never thought I’d see. How can I be a parent?” You saw the uncertainty in his gaze, the way his brows tried to pull down for a moment. “What if…what if I….become like him?”

“You could never!” You reached for him, bringing him closer until his forehead pressed into yours. “I know you’re scared, don’t make that face, you are allowed to be. I am. I’m scared.” You bit your lip as you chose your next words. “It feels easier to walk away but it’s not,” you said firmly, threading your hands into his hair. “If we face this together we can do it, Armitage. We can get each other through this.”

[kirah69]

Better Than New

Nogitsune/Stiles + pre-Steter + pre...

Summary: The nogitsune gave her a new body, but it wasn't like her old body. He had given her a parting gift.

Warnings: trans mtf character (Stiles), nogitsune, some angst, happy/open ending, Peter provides.

Words: 3510

[AO3 link]

The bandages kept piling up on the floor, damp with saliva. There was silence save for Stiles gasps and retching. When the end of the bandage fell to the floor, for a second or even less it felt like it was all over at last. An instant of relief until black smoke billowed from the bandages and something inside began to move. Everyone went on alert. What else could happen now?

A head began to emerge, pale skin with deep dark circles and long black hair. It was like seeing the girl from The Ring coming out of the television. Several weapons were pointed at her, everyone's attention focused on the stranger. Her brown eyes looked up, tearful and terrified, tired, pleading and confused. Someone recognized her and called her name. The wariness turned to worry and confusion. They stopped retreating and approached her. They helped her out of the bandages, asking all once if she was okay, what had happened, what was going on, in an almost unrecognizable cacophony.

When they remembered the other Stiles and looked around them, he was gone. Lydia too. Chaos broke out again. They all ran after the nogitsune and his new hostage, and only Melissa was left looking after her. Stiles couldn't move, she was exhausted both physically and mentally. Her body felt so strange and her mind felt half empty. She didn't know how she felt at that moment about anything, she didn't even have the energy to think about it.

“Honey.” Melissa put down the glass of milk that Stiles just drank on the nightstand. She twisted her hands in her lap as if she was gathering the courage for something. “What has... happened?” she asked in a whisper.

Stiles turned her head toward the wall. She didn't know what to answer, she still hadn't assimilated it. Melissa didn't ask any more.

As soon as she could get up, Stiles went home and locked herself in her room. She couldn't do anything now. They knew how to kill the nogitsune, and Stiles wouldn't be of any help to them, much less in the state she was in. She didn't even dare to look at herself in the mirror, maybe out of fear that it was just a dream or maybe that it was real. She covered herself with a thick sweatshirt and tied her hair in a ponytail with one of the threads she used for the crime board, tucking the end inside the sweatshirt.

Noah barely noticed in the darkness of the room when he visited to check on her. It was hard to notice the changes in the barely ten seconds he was there before going back to work. They still had a demon to catch.

When Stiles got a message saying they were done with the nogitsune, it wasn't relief that she felt, but she did allow herself to finally worry about what had happened to her. She pulled on the hood of her sweatshirt and headed to the loft in her jeep. She almost had an accident because she couldn't stop looking at herself in the rearview mirror. Her heart was beating so hard it was almost pounding in her ears, and she couldn't keep her hands still on the wheel. She was going to show it to someone, she was going to talk to someone about it for the first time, although she didn't know with whom. She wasn't sure who would be in the loft, although she could imagine it.

Stiles jumped out of the jeep as soon as she parked because she was afraid that if she thought about it, she would regret it and go home. Her body vibrated as she took the elevator up. (She had thought about going up the stairs, but she would have no air left when she got there.) She nervously adjusted her hood for a moment in front of the loft door. When she opened it, the only one there was Peter. He was the only one she really needed to see, so it was no problem.

“Stiles, what a surprise to see you here. I thought you'd be celebrating with your friends.” Peter barely looked up from his tablet for a second and went on with whatever he was doing.

“I don't think there's anything to celebrate,” she muttered, though the wolf could hear her perfectly. “Anyway, I wanted to talk to you.”

That seemed to pique his interest.

“About what?” he asked, lowering the tablet.

Stiles took off her hood. She kept her gaze on the ground. At first, she didn't hear anything and then there was movement on the couch.

“I admit I thought my imagination had played a trick on me, but it was real,” he commented with curiosity in his voice.

Stiles shrugged. Yes, it was real, what could she say?

“Why?”

Stiles looked up. The wolf was in front of her, looking her up and down with interest. She was ready to answer, she expected that question from Peter, but his gaze made her nervous.

“A gift. He said it was a gift for having used my body. Not that it makes up for it, but I admit he's been very considerate,” she commented almost to herself.

“I suppose then you're not looking for a way to undo it.”

She was so grateful that he didn't say the obvious, she could almost cry.

“No, I just want to make sure there'll be no side effects and that... it'll be permanent.”

She was so afraid that it was not permanent, that she would blink and it would disappear, that she didn't dare to enjoy it. She was living a dream, not even in her wildest fantasies had she imagined such a thing, and she was terrified.

“I'm pretty sure it's permanent, and from what you say, it doesn't sound like it's a trap. Although I can't be sure of that, he's a nogitsune after all.”

“It's not a trap, I know that,” she answered confidently.

“You know?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.

“I do know. He was in my mind and I was in his. He knows me as well as I know him. It wasn't a lie, I'm just afraid that now that they've killed him, his magic or whatever created this will disappear,” she explained, unable to control that edge of panic in her voice.

“We can investigate it. It'll be difficult to find anything specific about the nogitsune, though. But I think his magic is powerful enough to make it permanent,” Peter assured her with conviction. “Besides, he's not quite dead either, he's just trapped again.”

This time it was Stiles who looked at him in surprise.

“Trapped? They said...” She breathed a sigh of relief for the first time and most of the tension in her body melted away. Her shoulders relaxed and her legs nearly gave out. She dropped onto the couch and threw her head back. “I know I shouldn't be happy, but... it's...”

“You don't have to give any explanation about how you feel. Only you were there. Only you, and the nogitsune, know what happened in your head. You have the right to feel how you feel.”

Stiles raised her head somewhat surprised and didn't expect the soft smile on his face or the intense way he was looking at her.

“What?” she asked when Peter didn't stop looking at her, almost as if he wanted to pounce on her.

“Those clothes are pretty... terrible for a brand-new body. You should get something more appropriate.”

“Hey! These are my usual clothes!” she exclaimed a little offended.

“I know,” he replied almost as if it hurt.

Stiles blushed and twisted the hem of the sweatshirt in her hands.

“Um... You're... you're the only one who knows. I was hiding it until... well, until I knew it was permanent,” she explained a little nervously.

“All the more reason, this way you can make the big reveal looking your best. Or like this if that's what you prefer, but you can choose.”

“I-I don't have money for-.”

“My treat. Let's go.”

Peter grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. When he just walked away without stopping, Stiles got up in a hurry and ran after him. It was a bit strange having Peter riding shotgun in his car (she wondered how he used to move around the town, she had never seen his car, if he had one), although it was not the first time she had a Hale in her jeep.

The wolf glanced at her as she passed the Beacon Hills mall exit and continued into the neighboring town, but he said nothing. She was not yet ready to meet someone she knew with her new look. She hadn't even thought of an excuse for her sudden change, there was no treatment that would achieve such a radical change in such a short time.

Stiles stopped the car near the entrance to the mall. It was a weekday, so luckily there weren't too many people. She had no time to hesitate because Peter immediately got out of the car and headed for the doors. She used the wolf almost as a shield as they advanced, and Peter led her to the most expensive store in the entire mall. Just looking at the prices made her feel dizzy and somewhat uncomfortable, she shouldn't be in a place like that.

“We could go to...”

“It's my money, and I plan to spend it well,” he replied, almost reading her mind. “Now take your time, I'm in no rush. If you want advice, I'll be in the sitting area.”

Stiles had thought that he would stay by her side telling her what would fit her best, what was most appropriate, what matched and all that, but it made her feel good that Peter stayed in the sitting area and let her choose her own clothes.

After choosing a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, Stiles thought she had finished the purchase, but Peter motioned for her to continue without even taking his eyes off his cell phone. After trying on several sizes to find hers, she ended up with three pants and five T-shirts, all of which were not very different from her usual clothes, but fitted to her new body (she liked her style and that wasn't going to change). She wanted to buy a skirt or a dress, but there she was completely lost.

“Do you need help?” Peter appeared behind her suddenly, and Stiles jumped.

“I'm going to put a bell on you,” she murmured. She was holding two dresses in her hands, but she couldn't make up her mind, she didn't even know if she liked either of them. “I have no idea about dresses, I've never... I didn't dare to...”

Peter took both dresses and put them back on the rack. He circled the racks a few times and came back with a dress that left her speechless. The body was black with a V-neck and a diagonal cut at the hip, with four white buttons on the left. The sleeves from elbow to wrist, a patch on the chest and the two-layered ruffled skirt were made of a white, red and black plaid fabric. It had enough plaid to fit her style and not too much to put Peter off. It was modern, casual, discreet (maybe in the future she would try something flashier, but not at the moment), she loved it. She looked at the label and it was just her size, which was surprising because she hadn't told him.

She went into the dressing room and when she came out, Peter was sitting there, like in one of those movie scenes where women tried on dress after dress and came out to show it off like it was a runway (they made it look super fun, but it was exhausting to try on clothes). Peter looked at her with an expression that made her blush. His eyes almost seemed to glow.

“Beautiful...” he murmured.

The blush on her cheeks became brighter, and she hurried back to the dressing room. Had Peter looked at her like this before? Was it because of her new body? Or did she realize it now because she was more aware of her body? Stiles would have to ask him directly if she wanted to find out, but she was not yet ready for the answer.

The total price was too much, but Peter didn't even blink, and Stiles didn't bother to say anything because the wolf wouldn't listen.

“Um, the entrance is on the other side,” she informed him as Peter headed in the opposite direction.

“Hairdresser first. That hair shouldn't be in a ponytail.”

Stiles frowned and touched her head wondering what he meant.

When the hairdresser asked her what she wanted, Stiles went blank.

“Just fix it,” Peter replied instead and turned to Stiles. “You'll have time to do whatever you want, but at least it has to be fixed. That guy doesn't know anything about haircuts.” He was talking about the nogitsune.

Stiles smiled and nodded.

The stylist offered to do her eyebrows and do some makeup, and Stiles agreed. Maybe she shouldn't say it herself, but the result looked pretty good. The hair with more volume still with her somewhat disheveled style, the eyeliner and some gloss on the lips. She looked at herself in the mirror and liked what she saw. For the first time she really liked herself.

This time she saw the wolf approaching in the mirror. Peter placed a hand on her back and looked at her reflection approvingly.

“You won't need the bite to become the most popular girl in the school,” he whispered almost in her ear.

This time she not only felt it but saw the blush blossom on her cheeks in the mirror. She snorted and turned around, she didn't want to keep seeing that silly expression she made with Peter around.

“I'm not unpopular because of my looks, I'm unpopular because of my personality, and that hasn't changed.”

Peter shrugged.

“Their loss.”

Stiles didn't know exactly what was that alleged loss, but she appreciated the encouragement.

She drove back to the loft and really meant to leave Peter there and go home, but she couldn't. She didn't know if her father would be there, she couldn't see him yet. What could she tell him? How was she going to explain this to him? What would he think of her? What would the others think? How was she going to tell them? What if they thought it was just a curse? What if they wanted to “help” her undo it?

“Stiles,” Peter called out to her, and it might not be the first time. Stiles lifted her head and stopped holding the wheel as if her life depended on it. “Do you want to go up?”

Stiles nodded. The wolf must have smelled her panic. She would be stinking at that time.

She took a deep breath and when his breathing returned to a more or less normal rhythm, she got out of the jeep. Peter took the bags (it was not an area to leave anything in the car) and accompanied her. When Stiles opened the loft door, the wolf dropped the bags and pulled out his claws, but before he could stop her, before the growl even left his lips, Stiles lunged at the figure in the middle of the loft that resembled her old appearance.

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and hugged him with all her might. She was so happy that she couldn't hold back and began to cry. Her legs were shaking and Kuro held her as his lips pressed against her hair.

“Shh, I'm here, Mi-chan,” he whispered, stroking her back.

“I thought they'd killed you and then that you were trapped again,” she murmured against his shoulder without letting go of him.

“Please, they were very foolish to think that they could just trap me in a wooden box after absorbing so much magic. They really only know how to underestimate others.”

He lifted Stiles' face with one hand and gave her a tender kiss. Stiles sighed and smiled.

“I'm glad you're back. Oh.” Stiles remembered then that they weren't alone (as they were always in her mind). Peter was looking at them with his mouth parted and a shocked expression. It sure had to be weird if it had managed to surprise the wolf. “Um, Peter, this is Kuro, the nogitsune, and... well... he's not as bad as you think. There are many things that you guys don't know and many lies that Noshiko told you.”

She was doing it unconsciously, but she had placed herself between Kuro and Peter in a protective gesture. He didn't expect Peter to attack without further ado, without questions and without thinking. Others could, but not him. Still, she had already lost Kuro once and was afraid it would happen again.

Peter put his claws away and relaxed, at least on the surface. He approached with slow steps, trying not to look threatening, more for Stiles than for Kuro.

“Given Stiles' reaction, I'll say I'm glad to see you again in better circumstances,” he told Kuro with a polite smile.

“The smart boy. You have chosen well,” he told Stiles, nuzzling his cheek.

“Uh, I-I haven't...” she stammered nervously. She wasn't sure what he meant, but Kuro knew her mind better than anyone and more than once they had talked about Peter. She just hoped Kuro didn't say anything he shouldn't.

“Why are you wearing these clothes? Now you have boobs, I thought you'd want to show them off.”

“I don't want to show-. Ugh, we just came from buying clothes to... show off my new body.��� It was useless to argue with someone who had been in her mind, much less Kuro.

“Great! Put it on, I want to see you,” he said almost like an excited child.

Stiles looked at him with narrowed eyes and a frown. She turned towards him a little without removing the arm that he still had around her shoulders.

“I can't just go around looking like this, people know me as a boy, they won't understand that now I'm suddenly a girl. There's no treatment that will achieve this overnight,” it sounded kind of desperate, and she felt like that. She still couldn't think of anything to explain this.

“Oh yeah, sometimes I forget,” Kuro muttered.

“What?” Stiles asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Human ignorance. But don't worry.” He pulled her close with his arm and gave her a long kiss. Stiles could feel the magic flow through her body. That feeling was no longer alien to her. “Done,” Kuro said with a satisfied smile when he pulled away.

“What did you do?” Stiles asked confused. She looked at her body, but she didn't see anything different, nor did she feel different.

“No one is going to question that you're a girl, for them you always have been a girl,” he answered with complete confidence. Stiles looked at Peter, but Peter shook his head. “It doesn't work with him, I figured you wouldn't mind. I can change it if you want?”

“No, no, it's fine.” She didn't care if it was Peter, he had reacted much better than she would expect from anyone.

“Then come on, it's about time for you to be yourself,” he told her.

Kuro shoved her toward the bags that were still on the floor and approached the wolf faster than Peter could react. He tried to control himself, but couldn't help the tension in his body when Kuro put an arm around his shoulders.

“And why don't you cook dinner for us in the meantime, little wolf?” Kuro asked or almost ordered him with his face very close to his, his breath brushing against his lips.

He looked like Stiles, like the old Stiles, but he didn't smell like her, he didn't speak like her, he didn't feel like her. It wasn't difficult in his mind to tell apart this Stiles from the real one.

“Kuro!” Stiles scolded him when he was about to kiss Peter.

Kuro grinned with sharp teeth without pulling away from the wolf.

“Of course, it'll be my pleasure,” replied the wolf.

It was Peter who gave him a kiss and left without letting him react. Stiles gaped looking behind the wolf and Kuro threw himself on her back, wrapping his arms around her.

“We're going to have so much fun, Mi-chan,” he whispered in her ear.

Maybe, at least Peter seemed willing.

* END? *

Ok, I may continue this fanfic, but that'd be after the one I'm working on. But I don't promise anything. Even so, I accept ideas for a future new chapter.

For the @transbingo : Coming out

[emachinescat]

Mac + Cheese

A MacGyver Fan-Fiction

by @emachinescat ​

@febuwhump​ day 25 / alt. 8 - allergies

Summary: Mac struggles to readjust to civilian life after the army, so Jack surprises him with a furry friend to help him out. Unfortunately, Mac's allergic to dogs. 

Characters: Mac, Jack, a dog named Cheese

Words: 5,343

TW: mentions of PTSD

Note: Okay, okay, so this might be more fluff than whump, but there is an allergic reaction, so it counts, right? :) This is another late Febuwhump entry, from when I got covid and couldn't finish it on time.  Also, a quick note – it is never a good idea to buy a pet as a surprise for anyone. As Jack realizes in this story, pets are a commitment, living creatures, and a person really needs to be prepared for the responsibility of having a pet before getting one. So in no way is this story encouraging you to surprise someone with a dog. It's just meant to be cute. Okay, PSA over. :) Hope you enjoy the story!

Keep reading here, or on AO3!

If you enjoy, please consider liking, commenting, and/or re-blogging, and you can follow me for more content like this! :)

Mac hadn't had a proper night's sleep in over four weeks. He'd tell you otherwise if you asked, of course, but the evidence was overwhelming. Every day, MacGyver's face grew paler, the darkness under his eyes deepened, and the look in his eyes became more distant. Jack had seen this happen to many soldiers – hell, it had happened to him. This tour hadn't been as bad as some of the previous ones Jack had experienced, but in the past …

Well, suffice it to say that Jack Dalton knew a thing or two about PTSD.

And as ugly of a look as it had been on him, as it was on anyone else, nothing had prepared him for how much it would hurt to see it on his little burger buddy. Shoot, when Jack had signed up for another tour to keep an eye on the kid, it was to keep him safe in the Sandbox, but now that he was home, Jack felt like Mac was in just as much danger of losing himself here as he had been of losing his life in Afghanistan. That was part of the reason Jack had found a place in L.A. instead of going straight back home to Texas. That, and a potential job for the two of them he was investigating at the DXS, but ultimately, it wouldn't have mattered where the jobs were. Jack had already decided to locate himself wherever Mac was.

Jack had tried to help the best that he could. He'd been on call all hours of the night, had had Mac over at his place when the nightmares got too bad, had crashed at Mac's place whenever his roommate was out of town and Mac couldn't be alone. He'd tried to get Mac to talk many times, but one thing he'd learned about the kid was that although he could go on and on for hours about geek squad science stuff, he was a master at talking a lot without actually saying anything important. And he didn't talk about himself at all.

Jack knew there was a lot to unpack. Hell, Mac's C.O. had been killed in front of him. The kid had screamed awake from many a nightmare about that one. He'd nearly been killed multiple times, been under fire, disarmed over a hundred IEDs in a single day, had been through hell right alongside Jack in the Sandbox, and Jack sometimes had to remind himself that the kid was still, well, a kid. Fresh out of school, hadn't even finished college before joining the army. He'd seen more violence and bloodshed than most people twice his age. His skill set put him right there in the middle of the death and danger, a twenty-year-old bomb nerd with a glowing neon target on his back.

And now he was back home, and everything was different. Jack knew this because he had been here too, once, not because Mac talked about it. He understood exactly what his friend was going through – he was home, but home wasn't the same. He smiled when he spoke to his friends, his roommate, even Jack, sometimes, but the smile was hollow and so were his eyes. The nightmares followed him wherever he went and he couldn't adjust, and he kept all the turmoil to himself, not wanting to be a bother, not thinking he deserved sympathy or whatever help his friends wanted to give him.

Finally, Jack reached the point where he had no idea what to do. What had ultimately pulled him out of his own personal hell after the worst tour of his career had been a very good friend, but no one, not Jack, not Bozer, not Mac's childhood friend Penny, seemed able to penetrate the layers of protection that Mac had built up around himself.

Maybe, he thought, as he stared pensively at the computer screen, Mac needed a friend who didn't try to get him to talk at all, one who would just be there for him and listen and drool all over his hand and take dumps in his backyard. Maybe, Jack ventured, the light bulb going off in his brain at the ad for the Battle Buddy Foundation and their service dogs for vets, Mac needed a dog.

***

Bozer was out of town at some movie convention the next weekend, so Jack put his plan into motion. He hadn't had a chance to run it by Mac's oldest friend yet, but he knew that if a dog would help Mac, then Bozer wouldn't mind a new addition to the household. Bozer would just be in for a surprise when he got home.

It had taken a lot of trips to animal shelters to find just the right fit for his partner, but Jack had been determined. He'd tried the Battle Buddy Foundation, but since he wasn't looking for a service dog for himself, that had been a no-go. Plus, there were just so many hoops to jump through and qualifications to meet and interviews to be had, and Mac needed help now. So he had scoured shelters and rescues, looking for a dog of just the right size and temperament for his buddy. The next two weeks were going to be a trial basis, and if Mac and the pup clicked, Jack would seal the deal. If not, then there was already another interested party lined up for the adoption.

The dog's name was Cheese, and he was a four-year-old golden retriever mix who loved cuddles, thrived on attention and exercise, and even looked a little like Mac with his long, flowing blonde locks. Also, Jack couldn't get past how perfectly the names synced up – how could he pass up the possibility of Mac and Cheese?

***

As Jack had predicted, Mac fell in love with Cheese the moment he laid eyes on him.

"Jack!" Mac grinned, falling to one knee right in the middle of the sidewalk. "Who's this?" Jack let Cheese wag his little tail happily over to Mac and watched with rising excitement as the pooch immediately began nuzzling and licking a laughing Mac all over. He watched as Mac scratched Cheese's furry head, found the sweet spot behind the ears, and buried his hands in the fur around the dog's neck.

"This," Jack said, "is your new best friend."

Mac looked up from having his face licked off and narrowed his eyes. "What did you do to Bozer?"

Jack tried to act like he wasn't offended that Bozer had been Mac's go-to on the "best friend" front. "Nothing."

"Then are you leaving me?" Despite the joke, a bit of uncertainty had wormed its way into Mac's voice, and Jack could have kicked himself.

"No, man, I don't mean it like that! Cheese ain't replacing anybody, he's just the newest member of the family!"

A hesitant half-smile pulled at Mac's lips. "You got me a dog?" He cocked his head. Cheese mimicked him, ears flopping as his head tilted adorably to one side. "I'm sorry – did you say his name is Cheese?"

Jack nodded proudly.

Mac kept scratching Cheese behind the ears, but he stared at Jack suspiciously. "Did you name him that?"

Jack's nod turned into a vigorous shake. "No, that's what he was called at the shelter, man. It helped me pick him out for ya. It was like fate."

"Fate?" Mac looked like he really didn't want to know.

"Mac and Cheese, hoss."

"No," Mac said shortly. "Just… no."

***

Mac ended up keeping the name.

It wasn't that he liked the lame pun or anything, but Cheese had apparently been called Cheese for a long time and refused to respond to anything else. Mac wanted to call him Fibonacci, but one look into those big brown eyes that lit up when Mac said Cheese, and one glimpse of the way his tail flopped around excitedly at the sound of his name, made Mac change his mind. Cheese obviously liked being Cheese, and who was Mac to try to change him?

"Besides," Jack pointed out no less than five times on the day he introduced them, "Mac and Cheese belong together, man. Cheese without Mac is pretty good, I'll admit, but Mac without Cheese is just a noodle." He shook his head sadly, and Mac couldn't help but grin. "Just a limp noodle."

***

Cheese slept in the bed with Mac that night, curled up close beside him, warm and big and furry. Mac didn't have nightmares, mostly because he didn't sleep. He couldn't sleep. He could feel a cold coming on, and the persistent scratch in his throat kept him firmly tethered in that awful middle ground between waking and sleeping, where sleep is the most appealing thing you can imagine, but it is also the most unattainable. It would have been a thoroughly miserable night, except Cheese was wonderful company, and his soft snores, twitchy feet, and dog dreams were a balm to Mac's sleepless jitters.

Despite how much Mac loved Cheese already, he spent a large portion of the night thinking of reasons why it wasn't practical for him to have a dog. Bozer didn't know about Cheese, for one. Jack claimed that everything was fine, that Boze would be completely on board once he got home. But Mac didn't just want to spring a pet on his roommate. Having a dog was a huge responsibility, one that wouldn't affect just Mac, but anyone he lived with as well. Of course, there was the fact that Mac himself wasn't prepared to take care of a dog at all, either, even if Jack had taken it upon himself to buy half of PetSmart on his way back from the shelter. Mac felt like he could barely take care of himself half the time; what made him think that he could keep another creature alive and healthy?

Peña had died on his watch, after all. How long until his dog got hurt because of him?

It was at that thought that Mac realized he was spiraling into very dangerous thought patterns, and he only managed to drag himself away from them by distracting himself with the snuffling noises Cheese made while he slept and by feeling the soft warmth of his fur.

Maybe Jack was right – maybe a dog would do Mac some good.

Of course, there was the one problem that Mac found himself avoiding more earnestly the more attached he found himself growing to Cheese. It was perhaps the most glaring reason for not having a dog, but it was also the one Mac was determined to ignore at all costs, and yet he knew full well that he was not getting a cold as he had told himself when the symptoms first started. He recognized that tell-tale itch at the back of the throat and the heaviness of the head all too well, though he'd held out hope he'd grow out of it someday. The truth was in the sneezes, though, which started after midnight and only got more numerous and violent as the night progressed.

No, there had been a reason that Archimedes had been an outside dog. There was a reason Mac felt like he had a head cold coming on. And there was a reason that he should have told Jack no the second his friend had made it clear that Cheese was to be his dog.

Angus MacGyver was allergic to dogs.

***

Mac finally fell asleep around four in the morning, and woke up close to noon with a warm, furry head on his chest. The front of his t-shirt was soaked through – at first, he thought it was sweat, but as he gently extricated himself from underneath his new bed buddy, he quickly realized it was, in fact, drool. A great glob of it trailed from the puddle on Mac's chest up to Cheese's slightly parted mouth. Mac wrinkled his nose. "Gross," he whispered fondly, then shuffled into the bathroom to take a shower.

He felt like crap.

His nose and sinuses were packed, his head ached, his eyes stung, and when he stripped off his shirt, he noticed a red patch of welts where the drool had bled through. The second he laid eyes on the rash, the itching started, and it took every ounce of his training and willpower not to scratch. Instead, he turned the water on hot and scrubbed, but the itching didn't go away. The steam did clear his sinuses a bit, so he counted that as a win.

The click-clack of claws on tile announced that he had a visitor. Mac had left the bathroom door slightly cracked, and Cheese must have shoved his way in. Mac, in the middle of washing his hair, peeked around the shower curtain to see the dog sitting near the shower, his furry butt parked right on Mac's towel. Mac could have sworn the towel had been hanging up – Cheese must have pulled it down.

Cheese's tail started thumping against the floor as soon as Mac made his appearance, but the retriever scrambled to his feet, backed up a few panicked steps, and let out a tiny whine when he saw Mac's hair, covered in shampoo bubbles and sticking out at every angle. Mac couldn't help but chuckle at the dog's antics, but he did his best to smooth down his unfamiliar hair. "Hey, bud, it's just me, your old pal Mac!" When Cheese still looked uncertain, Mac ducked back under the water, rinsed the suds out, and poked his head back out. His hair was now soaked through and plastered to his head, but he must have looked more like himself, because Cheese skipped forward, let out a chipper bark, and turned a full circle before flopping back down onto the towel.

"You might just be the cutest dog I've ever met," Mac observed. With his stuffy nose, though, it sounded more like, You just bight be the cutest dog I'b eber met. He grimaced, coughed at a tickle building in his throat. "Too bad I can't breathe when you're around."

Mac finished his shower and trailed water across the floor on his quest to find a new towel since the last thing he needed was to rub himself down with more dog hair after Cheese had used his as a dog bed. Though he felt fairly miserable, he and his new friend passed a pleasant enough afternoon. Mac tried to make eggs and bacon. He ended up undercooking the eggs and burning the bacon. He was going to throw away the truly inedible bits, but Cheese blinked up at him with his big, sad eyes, and Mac couldn't resist. Cheese inhaled the extra crispy bacon bits that Mac sprinkled on top of his kibble, and then devoured the dog food like he'd never eaten before in his life and had no idea if he'd ever eat again. Watching Cheese eat reminded Mac semi-fondly of Jack at that cheap pizza place he'd dragged Mac to a few days after they got back home. Very messy, lots of gross chewing noises, but with so much joy and passion that Mac couldn't help but grin.

He took Cheese out to do his business, and the sight of the dog romping around in the grass almost made him forget how awful he felt. He did laugh, long and hard, when Cheese stumbled over his own front paws in a desperate bid to snap at a butterfly. The dog took the opportunity to flop over on his back and roll around heartily in the dirt. Mac stopped laughing when his chuckles turned to wheezes.

Mac had planned to tinker with his newest project in the garage to occupy his time, but after the failed breakfast, his appetite and last reserves of energy vanished, and, chest tight, skin itchy, eyes streaming, and sinuses stuffed, he flopped down on the couch and turned on the TV. A rerun of Everybody Loves Raymond was on, and he didn't feel like changing the channel, so he slumped there, sick and itching and barely able to breathe, and half-watched a show he'd never really been too crazy about in the first place.

Jack came over a few hours later. He let himself in, as he had gotten in the habit of doing. He had a couple of paper grocery bags in his arms, and a huge grin on his face as he kicked the door open and crooned in a sickly-sweet baby voice, "Where's my new buddy? Where's my Cheesey Weezy?"

Cheese, who had been curled up on top of Mac's feet at the base of the couch, sprang to life at the sound of Jack's voice. He barked enthusiastically, clamored for the door, and knocked two picture frames off of the coffee table with his wildly wagging tail. Jack dropped the bags on the table – Mac heard the squeak of a dog toy from inside – and dropped to his knees. Cheese, like a pretty girl in a cheesy rom com, threw himself into Jack's open arms and, unlike most rom coms (at least that Mac had ever seen), proceeded to lick every inch of Jack's face with his sloppy, warm tongue. To his credit, Jack just squirmed and laughed at the dog's ministrations, clearly enjoying the attention. When he glanced over at Mac, though, Jack gently scooted Cheese away and got to his feet. He made his way over to Mac and looked down at him, brow furrowed.

"You look like hell."

"It's not so bad," Mac lied.

"Oh really?" Jack asked, eyebrows raised in disbelief. "It's 'dot' so bad, huh?"

Cheese trotted across the room with a flurry of clattering claws, and tried to jump into Mac's lap. Mac laughed, doing his best to protect himself from the clumsy paws of a dog who didn't know how big he actually was. "Down, boy! You're way too big to be a lap dog!"

Cheese didn't exactly listen, but paraded right over Mac, big paws digging painfully into his stomach and legs. The dog wedged himself in the small space between Mac and Jack, attempted to turn in a circle, realized he didn't have enough room, and then flopped down contentedly with his front half on Mac's lap and his rear end on Jack's.

"He's a heavy thing, ain't he?" Jack grinned, reaching over and giving Cheese a loving scratch between the ears. Cheese's tail went crazy with excitement. Jack chuckled and then returned his attention to Mac. "What's wrong with you, hoss? You got a cold or somethin'?"

Mac glanced down at the dog resting his head on his knee, caught a glimpse of sweet, innocent brown eyes blinking up at him, and decided against telling Jack the truth. As much as Jack adored Cheese, Mac knew that if he found out the truth, he'd insist that they find Cheese a new home. And although Mac didn't love the idea of living the rest of his life feeling like he had a constant head cold, the presence of the dog in his lap was so comforting, so warm and safe, that he didn't have the heart to give him up.

"Yeah," he fibbed. "Or something."

***

Later that afternoon, with a half-eaten box of pizza on the coffee table and Die Hard playing on the TV, Jack glanced over at his young companion, who had drifted off with Cheese snuggled up against his his side. The dog was sleeping too, the most adorable snores Jack had ever heard whistling out of the black button nose.

"A cold, huh?" Jack muttered, scooting a bit closer to his friend. Mac's response to Jack's questions earlier hadn't set right with him, but Jack hadn't pressed the issue then. Now, though, he pressed the back of his hand gently against Mac's forehead, freezing when Mac stirred, then relaxing when he stilled. No fever. Jack pulled back, then paused when he caught a glimpse of red peeking out from the collar of Mac's shirt. Frowning, Jack pulled back the collar just enough to confirm that what he was looking at was an angry rash.

"A cold, my ass," Jack groused. He was about to pull back when a peculiar sound caught his attention, something that he couldn't quite identify but that just felt wrong. He grabbed the remote, muted the movie, and listened closely. There! In the dead space between Cheese's snores, a strained, grumbling wheeze accompanied the rise and fall of MacGyver's reddened chest. "Oh, Mac," he muttered, putting two and two together. He could see the full picture now – he recognized the signs of a bad allergic reaction when he saw one. He couldn't be frustrated at Mac for lying to him, though, not when he could see, plain as day, the reason why Mac had pretended he had a cold. It lay there between them on the couch, golden fur and brown eyes and cold black nose and a tail that never quit.

"Oh, boy," Jack breathed. "What have I done?" Why the hell had he not thought to check to see if Mac had allergies before he'd gone and adopted him a damn dog? Jack vaguely remembered Mac talking about a dog he'd had as a kid, with a nerd name he couldn't remember, and supposed he'd just assumed allergies wouldn't be a problem. Clearly, he had been wrong.

"Okay, buddy," Jack said, waking Cheese up with a big kiss on the top of his head and a gentle nudge on the butt. "You're gonna have to get up now. I know, I know, you're comfy."

Once a disgruntled Cheese had clicked off to check his food bowl for the umpteenth time, Jack shook Mac awake.

It wasn't a violent awakening, like many had been since returning home, but Mac's eyes did snap open with a sense of urgency, and he stared blankly around at his surroundings like he didn't know where he was for several long moments. Then, finally, he locked eyes with Jack, took a deep, wheezing breath, and coughed. "Where's Cheese?"

Jack shot Mac a sympathetic smile. "I think he's stress eating 'cause I kicked him off the couch. Do animals do that?"

Mac shrugged miserably, seeming younger than Jack had ever seen him. The kid looked awful – his eyes were red and watery like he'd been crying, and his whole face had a concerning puffiness to it. With his raw, bright red nose, he could have been trying out for the part of Rudolph in a Christmas pageant. The rash was spreading, too; Jack could see it reaching up his neck. "Jack," he said in a resigned voice that was almost a whine.

Jack knew what was coming. "Yeah, bud?"

"I'm allergic to dogs."

Jack let out a rueful chuckle. "No kidding. Why didn't you tell me from the beginning?"

Mac blinked over at Jack with big, blue, swollen eyes. "You were so excited about the surprise. And I haven't had a pet since Archimedes, when I was a kid. Besides, back then, my allergies weren't so bad. I think they've gotten worse."

Jack sighed, ran a hand over his face, and said heavily. "You know you can't keep Cheese now, right?"

A great sadness bloomed in Mac's expression. "Jack… I love that dog."

"I know you do. And I'm so sorry, man, I shouldn't have tried to surprise you with a dog. I mean, that's a whole-ass commitment, and I didn't even ask Bozer if you had any allergies first! I was just…" He trailed off, not sure how much he wanted to say. Not sure how much Mac would want to hear. MacGyver had never been one to discuss emotions.

But Mac seemed to have caught on. He offered Jack a small smile. "You were trying to help, I know. I knew it from the moment you introduced me to Cheese." A weighted pause. "Jack, I… I know I haven't been easy to be around this past month. But I promise, I'm working on it. The nightmares are easing a little, and I–"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow your roll there, cowboy," Jack cut his friend off. "You think I got you a dog to make you easier to deal with? You're not a burden, Mac. You're just carryin' a lot of your own. But that's what I'm here for. To help." He swallowed, his mind wandering back to his own experiences after his worst tour. "I've been where you are. I know how difficult this transition is, and after everything you've seen, well, I – I guess I just thought you needed a friend to help you through it, that's all."

Mac frowned in confusion. "Jack… I already had a friend like that. You."

Jack twisted his hands together in a rare display of nervousness. "I… I just couldn't tell if I was doing enough. I felt helpless. And I read this article about therapy dogs, and you're basically a golden retriever yourself–"

A congested, startled laugh cut Jack off. "Excuse me? I'm basically a what?"

A genuine smile overtook the uncertainty on Jack's face. "Oh, you know. Blonde, big, innocent eyes. Loyal to a fault. Full of energy, easily distracted." He paused, felt a slight blush rise in his cheeks. "And a damn good companion."

Mac scratched the side of his face, deep in thought. He didn't speak for a few seconds. Then – "I… I genuinely don't know how to respond to that, Jack. I mean, you said some really great things, but you still called me a dog."

Jack grinned wolfishly. "At least I didn't call you a bitch."

Mac rolled his eyes. "Yeah, there's that."

A companionable silence, broken only by the sound of Mac's strained breaths and the messy slurp of a dog lapping up water in the background. Then Mac added uncomfortably, his long fingers fidgeting in his lap, "Thank you for always being there for me, man. And I do appreciate the gesture. I…" His eyes misted up, and this time, it wasn't from allergies. "I really, really wanted to keep Cheese."

Another pang of guilt twisted Jack's gut. He felt bad for Mac and for the dog that had already bonded with him. At least he knew that there was another interested party, that either way Cheese would go to a loving home. "I'm sorry for putting you in this situation, Mac. But if it helps, there's another interested family on the waiting list, if it didn't work out with you. They've got kids."

Mac nodded, but he still looked downcast.

"Hey, brother, before we deal with anything else, we need to get some drugs in you. You're wheezing pretty bad there."

Mac nodded, distractedly rubbing his chest. "Yeah, it's kind of hard to breathe."

Jack got up and walked to the bathroom, carefully stepping over Cheese who had fallen asleep in the middle of the hallway. He came back after rummaging through the medicine cabinet, armed with hydrocortisone, Benadryl, a glass of water, and a wet, warm cloth. Mac groaned when he saw the Benadryl. "I'm going to sleep for the rest of the evening," he complained.

"Yeah, well, you might get to breathe for the rest of the evening too," Jack shot back unsympathetically. He dropped two bright pink pills in Mac's reluctant palm and shoved the glass of water into his other hand. He made sure to watch closely to check that Mac didn't try to pull a fast one over on him, but the kid did actually swallow the Benadryl – a testament to how truly bad he felt. Then Jack instructed Mac to lie back and closed his eyes, and placed the warm cloth over his eyes and forehead. "I'm going to unbutton the top of your shirt, okay?" he warned, and Mac nodded sleepily. Jack undid the first few buttons, revealing the red, swollen rash beneath. "Geez, kid. You look like you got bit by a radioactive lobster." Mac snorted, but didn't dignify the joke with a further response. Jack gently spread the hydrocortisone cream across Mac's chest, rebuttoned the shirt, and stood back to admire his handiwork.

Mac was already asleep and snoring. Jack smiled indulgently at his friend, glad he was in for some uninterrupted, hopefully peaceful sleep. He also planned to keep a close watch on the kid over the next few hours, because if that rash or wheezing didn't get any better, Mac was going to a clinic for a steroid shot whether he wanted to or not.

Jack left Mac lying there and moved to the hallway, lowering himself to the floor next to Cheese. "Hey, bud," he said as the dog woke up, his tail already approaching the sound barrier. He gave the golden retriever a warm hug and got a few slimy kisses in return. "I'm sorry for putting you through this, you know," he said, petting the golden head in a show of comfort – for himself or the dog, he didn't know. "I was just trying to help my buddy. But I promise you, the family that you're going to is going to love you as much as Mac does." A pause, then a soft kiss on a furry head. "As much as I do." Thump, thump, thump went the tail. "Man," said Jack. "It really sucks this didn't work out. After all, who doesn't love Mac and Cheese?"

***

Mac and Jack dropped off Cheese at the shelter together the next day, Mac still sounding like he had a cold but looking more like himself overall. The family next in line to adopt the dog met them there, and the look in the little girl's eyes when she saw her new best friend was almost enough to outweigh the pain and guilt in Jack's heart.

Mac got down on one knee to say goodbye to his new buddy. Jack gave a nervous chuckle and tried to pull him up by the back of his shirt. "Mac," he hissed, "You're going to go into amphibian shock if you keep petting that dog."

"Anaphylactic," Mac corrected instantly. "And no, I'm not. I will, however, be taking more Benadryl when I get home." Then Mac proceeded to wrap his arms around Cheese's furry neck and bury his face in warm fur. Cheese wagged his tail and licked Mac's ears and neck and face when he resurfaced. Mac laughed jovially, and Jack grinned down on him, his worry fading at the joy he saw in his young friend. The laugh turned into a cough, then a sneeze, and Jack really did haul Mac up by his shirt. "Okay, hoss, that's enough." Mac pouted, but obeyed. His face was already looking like a tomato.

The little girl's mom stepped forward to take the leash, a sympathetic look in her eyes. She glanced over at her husband, a query in her gaze, and after a moment, he nodded. "Hey, listen," she said, reaching out and giving Mac a kind pat on the shoulder, "I'm really sorry you couldn't keep Cheese. But if your allergies can handle a visit every so often, maybe we can meet up in the park sometime, let you take him for a walk?"

Mac's miserable, beet-red face lit up with more than a terrible allergic reaction. His smile was infectious, and Jack found himself grinning like an idiot, too. "Yeah," Mac said. "I'd love that."

The woman smiled, then the family turned away, heading into the shelter to complete their paperwork. Jack nudged Mac in the side. "You ready for some Benadryl?"

"Actually," Mac said, and the wheeze had infected his voice. "I think a steroid shot might be in order."

Jack grimaced. "That bad, huh?"

Mac didn't answer, but the rash spoke for him.

"C'mon, ya limp noodle," Jack said, slinging his arm around Mac's shoulders and propelling his allergy-laden buddy toward the car. "Let's get you to a doctor."

[lizzietrashkittie]

I wrote a short fanfic based on an even shorter rp I did with a friend, and I wanna share it so here. Lol.

For context, Redd and Tom found the boys together when they were dating, KK and Redd have a brother like bond due to similar interest and dreams, and Redd had to leave after Tom found out he was making fake arts for Lyles scam business that was competing against Tom's legit one.

Whoop.

°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°

Timmy and Tommy sighed sitting on the couch of the apartment. Tom was at work and KK was supposed to be coming over to watch them, but his super star life style had him running very late.

It wouldn't be such a problem if their other dad were still here..

Nether boy really even knew WHY he wasn't. KK just said he and Tom had a disagreement and needed time apart..even he sounded upset about the news.

"..Do you think he's gonna come back?" Tommy spoke up. Timmy thought for a moment before replying "Duh. Of course he will. He can't just leave us forever over a stupid fight."

Tommy didn't look as sure.

Timmy shook his head "Dad just needs to apologize..for..whatever it was that happened. Then he'll be back with us for sure."

Tommy's ears laid back "KK sorta made it sound like it wasn't his fault..he seemed really upset.."

"..Papa wouldn't let him leave if he didn't do something bad."

Tommy stayed quiet.

~~~~~~~~~~

Things only got weirder from there..Suddenly Tom seemed to pull away when the twins would greet him. He seemed a little colder then before. Sadder.

The two only really realized how final this change would be when Tom implemented a new rule to the house.

"Don't call me your father anymore..I'm your uncle now. No dad. No papa. No anything. Uncle."

It caught the two off guard, Timmy was the one to protest.

"Why? You ARE our dad, why can't we call you it?"

Tommy stayed quiet in thought about the change of title.

Tom shook his head "I'm not now. I'm still going to raise you both, but I don't want to be a father."

Nether boy was happy with this, but all Timmy's bickering on the subject just proved pointless. Uncle Tom it was.

~~~~~~~~

Timmy huffed setting up the good in the new store "I really wish Uncle Nook would've asked before buying this place."

Tommy looked at him.

He continued

"It's nice we get to work here and all, but I liked our apartment..I liked Animal City. This village is so small and boooring!"

He hopped down from his step stool and tightened his apron.

Tommy nodded adjusting his cap "boring.."

They could hear Tom ringing the bell for the shop downstairs, it was opening time.

The business was slow. Though that's to be expected, in this whole town there were only really 15 villagers, and many of those working the town hall or other shops had homes put of town.

Timmy sat idly by the door and groaned. Uncle Nook was a business man but moving to such a small town for such a big shop just seemed like a waste.

Tommy glanced at him from his standing position "..It's almost closing time.."

Timmy nods "And we only sold two pieces of furniture. Some grand remodeling." He rolled his eyes.

Tommy nodded "Maybe tomorrow?"

Timmy sighed "..If Redd was still here he would've made sure Nook picked a better place. Or maybe even stayed in Animal City!"

Tommy stayed quiet.

The work day ended not to long after.

~~~~~~~~

This pattern became the norm. Tom would find a new town to open shop, and after making sure it was safe he'd have the boys join in. Before long though, without fail, they'd be moving again. Some towns stayed longer then others, but no town was truly lived in long enough to feel like a home.

One day during a move Tom pulled the boys aside again.

"Okay you two. Very important announcement, as you both know we'll be moving tomorrow, I wanted to make some small changes."

Timmy piped up "Are we moving to a city again??" His tail wagged at the idea, living back in a loud and exciting city.

Tom shook his head. "No no. Not that kind of change."

Timmy sighed.

Tom continued. "No I'd like for you both to begin to refer to me as boss. Or..mentor."

Both boys gave a confused look, so he elaborated.

"See I don't particularly feel fond of 'Uncle Nook' anymore. And since one of my biggest goals for you two is to grow up financially responsible and be able to take over our business, I think Mentor Nook fits much better, yes?"

Timmy balled his fits "NO!" Tommy took a step back.

"No! You told us to call you our uncle, you can't just change it again!"

Tom seemed surprised by the raised voice, but shook it off to keep his 'professional' appearance. "Yes, Yes. I did change my title once before..that's why this time shouldn't be so hard for you both to adjust to."

Timmy wanted to continue his argument but Tommy stopped him and pulled them both back upstairs.

Tom quietly watched them go.

Once upstairs Timmy kicked a 'sold out' sign from off the floor. "I hate this! That stupid professional look he's putting on. It's like he doesn't even see us as his kids anymore!"

Tommy whimpered and allowed Timmy to yell out all his frustrations.

When he was done he fell back onto thr blue wooden display mat and covered his face with his paws "....We were supposed to get a family..not a boss."

Tommy laid by him with his paws rested on his stomach "..Not the same."

"Urgh..You can say that again."

"....that again"

Timmy was quiet for a moment before giggling "You know what? Fine. We'll call him mentor or whatever. If he doesn't want to be our dad then he doesn't have to be. We don't need a real family anyway."

"..real family?" Tommy sounded alittle sad.

Timmy gave him a smile "We're gonna have eachother! That's enough for me. And when we're old enough to run this store I'll run it circles around 'mentor' Nook!"

Tommy wasn't sure he liked the idea..but if it made Timmy deep better then he might as well play along.

~~~~~~~~~

Tom sighed and put another pin in his map. "Hm..They took that about as well as I thought they would.." He wrote the name of the new town on a sheet of paper for his wallet.

He didn't like the news ether. Not really. Part of him wanted to go back to being a dad, to hearing the Twins refer to him as one..

But he couldn't. Hearing them say it reminded him to much of the past.

For a while 'Uncle' worked. But now even that leaves to much room for what was.

He got the kids with Redd.

Without Redd..having that sense of family connection with them felt wrong, distracting.

He knows nether of them will ever understand his reasoning. But this was better for them..all of them..

Just like how moving was better.

Better then staying in one place long enough to let Redd find them again.

Better then living in the past.

[orange-waterfalls]

Hello, Nurse

Yancy x mute!gender neutral!reader

@glitchbitch69 ty for the prompt!

A/N: I heard that mute was an offensive word... but I didn't know what else to use... reader is a person who cannot talk. That's the best way I can put it. @glitchbitch69 I am 99% sure this is not what you asked for but here??? I did my best. Rated T for a couple "fuck"s and like... 2 "shit"s.

Word Count: 2.5k

--

Yancy enjoyed prison life. He loved his family, the food was good, the cells were comfortable, Shithole Hank's hooch wine was fucking wonderful, it was almost perfect.

Almost.

Apart from the fact that he wanted a companion

A spouse.

A life partner.

Whatever you want to call it.

One day, he notices someone new. Someone he hadn't seen before. Which was very weird because he knew everybody. They all practiced their musical number every Thursday.

He decides to introduce himself, so he follows you to wherever you're headed. You end up in the infirmary.

"Hello, there." He greets. You turn to him, slightly surprised. He's smiling at you, and not in a malicious way like you'd probably expect from a man who killed both of his parents. It's a sweet smile. A "I want you to feel as comfortable as possible" smile. You return it and wave.

"I haven't seen youse around here before. Youse new?" He asks. You nod. He raises an eyebrow

"Alright… what's youse's name?" You gently tap the name card on your chest.

"Hm. What's youse's favorite color?"

You point to your shoes.

"What's youse's favorite animal?"

You point to the animal poster on your wall.

"What's youse's favorite season?"

You point to the background of your computer. He huffs.

"What, can't youse talk?" He jokes. You shake your head.

"Oh…" he clears his throat, suddenly feeling very awkward. You make a gesture with your hands. He furrows his eyebrows. You huff and grab a Post-It note, writing something down and handing it to him. He looks at it and sees that you wrote "it's okay". He chuckles.

"Must be hard being a nurse and not being able to communicate with your patients," he comments. You roll your eyes, and wave it off. You write something else on a Post-It and hand it to him. "I can handle it" He smiles.

"Yeah, I bet." He glances back up at you. "So, uh… do--" he was cut off by two guards bursting into the infirmary with a man of a gurney. You rush past Yancy to see what's happening. Yancy follows you to see who it is. You make another gesture at the guards.

"He collapsed while in his cell. He won't wake up," one explains. You grab Yancy by the arm and lead him out, closing the door. He stands there for a moment before deciding it'd be best to head to his cell. He runs into Sparkles McGee on the way there.

"Hey, Yance!" He greets. Yancy smiles at him.

"Hey," He responds and they start to walk together

"Where ya headed?" Sparkles asks.

"Y'know… to my cell…"

"Already? It's only 7:00…"

"Well, I'm tired…"

"Hm… alright…"

"Hey…" Yancy stops walking. Sparkles, who was in front, turns to him, tilting his head. "Do you… know about any nurse?"

"You mean Y/N? Oh, yeah, they've been here for a couple of days," Sparkles responds.

"Really? How come I didn't know?"

"Well, you didn't really have a reason to. You don't get into a lot of fights and you don't get hurt so…"

"So… if I wanted to see the nurse… I'd have to get hurt…"

"Well, I wouldn't say you have to. You could just… talk to them?" Sparkles looks at Yancy weirdly. Yancy apparently did not hear that last sentence because the dumbass immediately went off to find a way to get hurt. He could get Jimmy the Pickle to punch him… that seemed like a solid plan. Yeah. He'll do that. He sits on his bed and thinks about what he's gonna say when he sees you again.

"Hey there!" No, too excited… "Howdy!" No, too awkward… "Sup" Nah, too "I want to be cool so you don't leave me". Just a simple "Hey" that's it. He sighs and lies down. He closes his eyes, letting sleep overtake him.

--

The next day, during breakfast, he sees you. He waves to you, but you don't see him. He figures that's a good time to start his plan.

"Hey, uh… I gotta do somethin'... See you guys later," he slides the rest of his breakfast over to Tiny, who promptly devours it. He meets Jimmy in a hallway.

"You got the stuff?" Jimmy asks. Yancy nods. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small lavender candle. Jimmy takes it, putting it into his pocket.

"Now it's your turn. Don't do it too-" Jimmy just straight decks him. He does miss his nose, but he nearly dislocates the smaller man's jaw.

--

Yancy wakes up and opens his eyes, but quickly closes them again due to the bright light in front of his face. He slowly opens them again, allowing himself to adjust to the light. He turned his head slightly, eyes widening when he sees you scribbling on a clipboard. He begins to smile, but stops because it hurts. He reaches up to feel his cheek. Jimmy really did a number on him…

You glance at him, noticing he's awake. You set down your clipboard and pencil and walk over to him, smiling gently. He gives you a half-grin in return.

"Hey there, hot stuff," he says, voice slightly cracking. Damn, I fucked it up, he thinks. You snort and pick up a sheet of paper, along with the clipboard. You write something down and hand it to him. It seems to be a little quiz.

"On a scale from 1-10, how much does it hurt?

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10"

He gently touches his cheek, wincing at the coldness of his fingers. He circles the number "4" and hands the paper back to you. You look at his answer and nod. You go get some supplies to give him a checkup and make sure everything else is ok.

As you perform the tests, you can clearly see his cheeks turning a light shade of pink whenever you touch him. A couple minutes pass, and you finish your check-up. Apart from a few slow reactions, he seems fine. They're probably because he was punched unconscious. You walk over to put your items away. He exhales deeply.

"So… uh…" he starts. You turn to him. "...do anything fun recently?" You roll your eyes and turn away. He pouts and crosses his arms. "Oh, come on! I'm doin' my best here!" You smack your lips and turn to him fully, making sure to obviously shake your head. He scoffs and mumbles something under his breath. You continue putting away supplies. When you turn back to him, he looks a bit upset. You frown, suddenly feeling guilty. You grab the same sheet of paper as before and jot down a couple of questions. You fold the paper, slipping it into his hand as you escort him out of the infirmary.

Yancy heads back to his cell and sits down, feeling gloomy. He takes the paper you gave him and opens it. It's seems like a little quiz. And the bottom, you wrote "I'd like to know you better, so here" and a small heart next to it. Yancy smiles widely and starts filling in answers.

You two write letters to each other back and forth, since you were usually busy in the infirmary. You learned a lot about him. He killed his parents and that's why he was in jail. That should have thrown you off waaaaay more than it did. You learned that him and all the other prisoners wrote a song and performed for new inmates. The practice was on Thursdays. You occasionally go and watch if you're not busy. The first time you went, he saw you out of the corner of his eye and smiled to himself while trying to get the newest inmate to stop fucking up the dance routine.

You two start to fall for each other.

For you, it was almost instant. You saw him singing and dancing and your heart just sped up.

For him, it took a bit. He was hesitant to trust you since you worked at the prison. He thought maybe you were only being nice so he wouldn't kill you. Which he would never, but you didn't know that. It bummed him out, until you covered for him when he got into a fight. You let Mr. Murder-Slaughter know that he had fallen , not gotten into a fight. For some reason, he took your word for it. Said you "looked trustworthy". That was about the time Yancy actually fell for you. Not a crush, no. This soft prison boy loves you with all his heart. That was a couple nights ago. You two had sent more letters since then.

He's reading the newest one in bed while he's supposed to be sleeping, giggling like a schoolgirl. He clutches the paper to his chest and sighs contently. He wipes his forehead, feeling a bit warm, but he ignores it. He would write you a new letter in the morning.

--

He wakes up in the morning, feeling like absolute shit. He tries to sit up, but his brain spins and screams at him to lie the hell back down. He obliges, only to suddenly go into a coughing fit. His body racks with the force, and he feels like his lungs are filled with something other than air. A guard enters his cell.

"Hey, you ok?" He asks. Yancy tries to answer, but goes into another fit and falls off of the bed. The guard rushes over to him.

"Whoa, ok… we gotta get you to the infirmary… c'mon," the guard tries to help Yancy to his feet, but his legs won't let him put any weight onto them. He groans as his head pounds, begging to lay back down. The guard manages to drag him to the infirmary, where he's plopped onto a bed. You turn, wondering what the commotion is. You gasp at the sight of Yancy. You make hand gestures at the guard. Yancy had been studying up on sign language, so he understood that you were saying "what's wrong?". The guard begins explaining what happened as Yancy begins to close his eyes. He lets himself slip out of consciousness.

--

He wakes back up to the smell of food. Chicken noodle soup? He hadn't eaten that since he was 11. He slowly turns to the side and sees a steaming bowl next to him, along with a small bottle of Gatorade. He looks around the room, searching for you. He sees you behind you computer. He tries to say "hi", but his body decides to say "fuck you" and make him hack his lungs out. You perk up at the sound, quickly walking over to him holding a whiteboard. You take a marker and write down "how do you feel?"

"Like… shit…" he croaks out. You smile sympathetically and write something else, showing to him.

It says "I convinced Mr. Murder-Slaughter to let me make you chicken noodle soup. I hope you like it. You might want to wait until it's cooled. I also bribed a guard into sneaking me Gatorade." He nods as you grab some objects and sit next to him.

You open your mouth, hoping he gets the memo. It takes him a moment, but he understands. You push his tongue with a stick and search his throat. What for, he has no clue. You eventually take it out and pick up a thermometer. He takes it in his mouth. You both sit quietly for a moment, waiting for it to go off. Yancy takes this opportunity to try and memorize every detail of your face. Were your eyes always so sparkly? He began to think he was hallucinating. The thermometer beeps, and you remove it from his mouth. You frown.

"What? Bad?" He asks. You turn the thermometer towards him so he can see the temperature. 108. "Oh… bad…" you shake your head and get an ice pack from a freezer, laying it on his head as you perform more tests. Once your done, he starts eating the soup, joyfully. It's all gone in the span of 30 seconds, along with the Gatorade. You blink at him before he crosses his arms and turns away.

"'s not my fault youse made it so good…" he grumbles. You smile, sitting next to him.

He turns back to you, a small grin appearing on his face. You two stare at each other for a moment before he reaches out, putting his hand on your neck. You glance at his hand, wondering what he's doing. He leans in. You lean in as well out of instinct. He closes his eyes because you're right there! You begin to close your eyes before you scramble to your feet, stepping away from him. He holds his hand in the air, a bit startled with your sudden disappearance. You stand and look at him, breathing harshly. Yancy groans and covers his face with his hands.

"Oh, I'm so stupid. Of course you don't like me," he says. "Why would you? I'm a scumbag…" you shake your head, immediately feeling regret for how you acted. You frantically look for your whiteboard. When you find it, you write something down and tap Yancy on the shoulder. He looks at you, tears brimming in the corners of his eyes. You hold the whiteboard in front of him. It says "108". He looks at the board, then at you, wondering what it means. You stare at him, expecting him to catch on at some point. He doesn't. You roll your eyes. You point at the board, then at him. He knits his eyebrows together in thought, before raising them and gasping.

"OOOOH, IT'S BECAUSE I'M SICK!" He yells. You nod forcefully. "Wait… so, you do like me?" He asks. You smile and nod. His face darkens. "O-Oh… well, uh… I like you too?" You erase the whiteboard and write "I know". He chuckles as you continue to smile.

--

A little while later, you deem Yancy ready to go back in his cell. He gets slightly upset because he liked spending so much time with you, but he was so glad he wasn't sick anymore. It's a bit late when you lead him back, so he decides to go to bed. He crawls in, covering himself in the blanket and you start to leave.

"Goodnight!" He calls. You smile and wave at him. He snuggles in and closes his eyes. He suddenly feels his shoulder being shaken as he tries to sleep. He turns to whoever's bothering him and almost decks you in the face. "Wha-" he starts. He's cut off by you leaning forward and gently kissing him on the forehead. He plops back down and gazes at you loving. You softly pat his chest as you start to leave again. You pause and turn back towards him, making a gesture with your hands. He doesn't know much sign language, but he does know what this means.

"I love you".

He smiles and makes the gesture back to you, making you smile. You turn and head back to the infirmary. Yancy sighs happily as he falls asleep.

--

The next morning, he meets you near the infirmary. He's about to say hi, but you frown, holding your arm up to your face. He stops, not knowing what's going on.

You sneeze.

You slowly turn to him, glaring. He nervously chuckles.

"Uh… sorry?"

[alyssabethancourt]

If you only read one of my project updates, make it this one.

It took most of the day to kick in, for some reason, but the price of the Mornnovin eBook on Amazon has finally adjusted to 99¢. It will remain at that deeply discounted price at least until February 26th. I may or may not be persuadable on the subject of extending the sale for an additional week.

So now that the stress of that unexpected snafu has lifted, I can do a proper update.

It's Friday, five days in, and as of posting this the fundraiser is sitting pretty at $821 or 22% funded. We're nicely on track. The next big goal, obviously, is getting to 25% ($925) and I'm confident we can hit that mark easy-peasy before the end of the weekend. Please, keep talking up this series and sharing the link with your friends, family, and followers.

Trajelon is a special book not just because it's mine and I have to say that, but because it explores issues and themes that I don't think we see often enough in fiction – especially not in the sparkly elf magic genre.

I'm going to get real with you for a minute.

I've talked before about how the version of Mornnovin that is now published is the culmination of thirty years and four versions of telling that particular story. What people may not know is that I'd also written Trajelon once before.

In late 1997, I was 18 years old and I'd made some terrible decisions that I was locked into living with for the foreseeable future, both because of the nature of responsibility but also because of pride. People had tried to warn me, and of course being the age I was, I knew everything. I'd been downright insolent about my conviction that I knew what I was doing.

So there I was, miserable, bridges burned, everything to prove, struggling under the load of several massive responsibilities all taken on at once, knowing that I'd made the bed I now had to lie in. I was also trying to pass my first semester of college as an English major. I can't remember now precisely which combination of events led me to come to this conclusion, but I started to feel that although I was reasonably good at academic writing, my creative writing was a clear waste of my time. I actually went as far as deciding to give it up.

I think, now, that I might have been trying to punish myself.

That take makes sense in hindsight because as soon as I'd grounded myself from the sort of writing I actually enjoy doing, two things happened.

One, at odd moments I started doodling scenes that weren't supposed to be part of anything, so I was free from the feeling that they had to be any good or make any kind of sense or fit within a larger narrative. This would come to be important later.

And two, the scenes I was scribbling down without any commitment to story or quality were all about bad things happening to Loríen.

Because writers have to write, even if they've made bullshit nonsense declarations about how they've given it up, a story idea did eventually coalesce out of all of these snippets. And because of where I was, the story was dark. The finished product was horrible, but it was genuine – a savage cry of pain from someone who believed she had no right to it.

Fast forward ten years. Now it's 2007. I'm still living in that hell of my own making, but it's different because I'm ten years older and time does change things, for better or worse. Now I'm working a crappy retail job and it's killing me. To save my sanity, one day, I pull some blank receipt paper out of the cash register and in tiny, cramped letters I start scribbling some scenes that aren't supposed to be part of anything. They're just junk for my brain, something to keep me alive. Because they're not for anything real, I don't worry about them being any good or fitting within whatever other arbitrary writing rules I have for myself. At night, while the household is asleep, I transfer the cramped letters from cash register paper to computer file.

After a while, I realize they are actually starting to make a coherent story, but it's not canon, I tell myself. It's just some cracky Asrellion fanfiction. Just some mindless entertainment. I keep giving myself permission to tell a different kind of story from whatever I imagine canon to be.

By the time I leave that crappy retail job, I find that in my time there I've managed to scribble onto bits and pieces of receipt paper what amounts to roughly twenty typed pages of... something.

Then I realize that what I have on my hands isn't just something, it's the seed of a new version of Book 2. One that actually has something to say besides screaming in wordless agony. The only problem is, this new book that I can see laid out before me is far too good for the terrible most-recent draft of Book 1 that would precede it.

Then I realize that I'm going to have to write this book, which means that I'm also going to have to rewrite the first book in the series in order to lay the necessary groundwork.

That's the story of how I came to begin my ground-up re-imagining of Mornnovin in 2008.

It turns out to be a good thing that I took the time to do that first, because I wouldn't have been ready then to tell the story that I ultimately had in me in 2016 when I wrote Trajelon over the course of six intense months. By then, I had escaped Hell. By then, I was safe. By then, I had some perspective on what it is not just to live through but to survive trauma and depression.

The first incarnation of Trajelon was what I needed it to be when I screamed it up, all those years ago. It was catharsis. I don't blame it for its darkness or its ugliness any more than you would blame a post-surgical scar for its raw appearance. This iteration of Trajelon is what it needed to be. Almost Athena-like, it sprang fully-formed from the brain of its creator. And it's no longer a cry of suffering. It's... a meditation on living with the suffering that inevitably comes along with the triumphs we experience in life. Living with, enduring, growing from. Learning to discard where possible. Drawing into our identity and building off of where necessary.

No doubt this is scary territory for some readers, but that's exactly why I think it's so important to tell these stories. They can't all be about glorious victories on the field of battle. There are more shades to the spectrum of the human (elven?) experience. I so wish this book had existed at a time when I could have drawn strength from it. Now I no longer need to draw on that kind of strength, but others do. I know they do.

So maybe this was a big old heavy update for a Friday evening, but I hope you don't mind the candor. This book is very personal for me, as you now understand, and that would have become clear anyway as soon as you read it. Because I think that's actually its truest and purest strength, I wanted to be up front about it in this fundraiser. I am pitching to you a fantasy novel written by a survivor of abuse, trauma, and depression written for survivors of abuse, trauma, and depression.

If you, like I do, think that's an important thing to have exist in the world, please help me get the word out and bring it into reality.

And thank you for letting me get real.

Help fund TRAJELON on Kickstarter.

[jiwonsssi]

— differences, pt. 1

Plot: You are a dancer of his team and, as The Fanfiction's Rule prescribe, you find yourself falling in love with Jiwon. You found yourself falling for every little difference he has. You are heplessly gone. Or not?

Characters: Eun Jiwon/'You'

Warnings: swearing.

A/N: Take a note, this is important part of a story: the 'you' person is under 25-26. Someone older wouldn't probably fit entirely, but since you all are here for nsfw part, there it wouldn't matter ahah

- It's not okay to be that late, right? - you hear someone sitting down right next to you, sighing harshly. Oh how you understand that sigh, - It's already been an hour. I fed up with waiting.

- Are you going to be the one who would say that to him? - you laugh, leaning backwards and the guy near you humps something under his nose, shaking his head, - Thought so.

But the thing is, he is absolutely right. You so fed up with waiting. Eun Jiwon is hella late for dance practice and if this would be his first time doing so, it would be doubtly okay. But the fourth one is getting out of hand. Yet what can you do? Complain to his manager? Complain to Jiwon himself? Being late yourselves? Throw rocks at him, in the end? Nothing's gonna work. Because if he's late, he wanted to be late. You see it in his eyes everytime he apologizes.

Eun Jiwon is not sorry at all.

Somehow you even respect him for his honesty. Man needs to have a tremendous amount of bravery, nerves and talent to be that shameless. Must be tiring, after all.

- And, what are you doing on Friday evening? Perhaps you and Sungha might visit my birthday party. No presents, just bring alcohol and something to eat. So what?

You barely know him. For real. It must one of the first times you two even have a somewhat decent conversation? He's new to the team and in general not really a bad guy (who knows though), but there is something you just don't like about him. And his offer. If he's about to invite every one that he sees, it will be a dirty mess. It's not like you are "homegirl" kind of a person, but being stuckes in a small flat with tons of drunk people in the middle of nowhere is not quite your cup of tea.

- We'll come, - your thoughts on how to say "no" in the most polite way possible were interrupted by your boyfriend, who now stands at the other side of you, leaning to the huge mirror and nodding happily.

- Then party it is, - you answer, making it obvious for Sungha that your 'happy' smile isn't happy at all and murmur 'who likes to rest after the long week anyway' under your breath.

- What did you say?

There is no time to answer the question, because your eyes met a long awaited 'main star' who tries to pretend that everything is okay and he wasn't late for an hour, bowing slightly as part of saying hello. Indeed, shameless.

- What? Let's get to work, the sooner we start, the sooner we end, - throwing rocks at him doesn't seem like a bad idea anymore; and judging by people around' expressions, not only for you.

Actually you don't mind waiting. It's not like you need to endure cold weather, rain, snow, thirst or hunger; you just.. relax. You have everything around, you can eat and drink and chat with someone; just do whatever you want. You just love complaining, probably. And you badly afraid to miss your bus, among everything. It's all fun until you will have to go to your home in the middle of the night by your own feet.

The practice goes smoothly, as it should be. The pros of working with someone who has experience and desire to actually make a performance better are undeniable. Somehow you, dancers, yourselves, cause more problems than Eun Jiwon ever did since you started to train together. Might be because he moves as he likes to; he knows every move and you see it clearly, everybody does. Yet he brought something new in the way he works it; only for himself, in his own style. Nobody does it like him and you understood it perfectly through almost two weeks of practicing together.

Apart from being surprisingly (for you) gifted in dancing, he was the same surprisingly humble sunbae. It's not like you worked with a lot, but the amount of men who caught a star with their short lasting fame you have met amazes you every time.

So overall Eun Jiwon was someone who you never imagined to be a person that he is. Quite unusual, actually.

And the most unusual part in all this is that you were particularly staring at him for, well, more than two hours and he was absolutely aware of this fact. It's not like you were ashamed or felt an urge to blush whenever you have been catching an eye contact, it's just.. weird. Everyone will find it weird; even though you didn't really mean anything. He just happened to stay in your focus while you were occupied with thoughts and work. It's not like you need this practice anyway. As many of you, actually.

The only thing you care about now is that you are terribly missing the last bus. Maybe fifteen minutes ago you had a chance, but now when it's clear that you are going to use your feet while going home in the blistering cold after almost three hours of non-stop dancing and knowing that tomorrow you will need to wake up early, your mood is absolutely destroyed. And so when the practice is announced to be over, you try your best to put on the most pure and happy smile without making your shitty mood visible.

- Would you be able to walk me home? I missed my bus and the subway is closed at my station, please, - you can't persuade your boyfriend to do everything, it's obvious. But you know that he lives near by and doesn't really need to do anything tomorrow, so.. why not try? In the sweetest voice you could ever maintain, of course.

He is nice. He really is. You date him for a reason, in the end. He's just.. the feeling is never perfect when it comes to him.

- Uhm, I.. - Sungha touches his neck, avoiding eye contact and you sigh, letting go of his arm softly, - I'm really sorry.

- It's alright, I understand. I also have a lot to do in the morning, ugh, - he hugs you, placing soft kiss on your temple and then look you deadass in the eyes while telling the most stupid bullshit he could have ever said without any sign of shame.

- Nah, I don't actually, I just promised to go with guys to celebrate some shit and it's already late. I promised, I'm sorry, love, - he smiles and you know that he means no bad. He just.. doesn't understand. It's not his or his friends or your fault; he's just like that, no one can change that except him. And you are not here to teach him manners. Especially when you want to break at least his nose.

- Ok, have fun, - you pat on his shoulder, avoiding his lips with a frown and just turn around to leave.

The same shit was popping up for the the last few weeks and those reasons why you fell in love with him; you don't really remember any of them anymore.

You didn't turn around when he called you, just straight up to the door, trying to surpass the crushing sensation in your throat. No way you will cry because of someone who doesn't care; too many honors. It's just a very bad day. Everything at once and all this.. maybe calling an expensive as hell taxi is a great idea, after all. No money can buy you new nerves.

Shoving your belongings to the tote bag, you desperately try to calm yourself down, because God knows, it's the lowest you have ever been in months. Those days when a fall of a pen can cause a mental breakdown; you hate it. Probably everyone does. It just happened to be today. Not a big deal.

There is nothing more than a comfortable ride home and sleep you are dreaming about. Not even impenetrable ignorance of Sungha bothers you. You'll deal with it tomorrow. Now - a car and a bed.

Yet life is not that simple and we are not in a fanfiction. A taxi? In the middle of the night? Huh. Nonsense. The thing is, no one wants to take an order for such a short and therefore not so profitable ride. Nice. And here you are, standing in the middle of the street in a fucking bone breaking cold waiting for at least someone to accept your order. Thanks God you are at least under a roof of YG Ent entrance. Lights and security. If not cold, you would just sleep here. You will need to come tomorrow anyway.

- Hey, why are you still here? - you hear voice of a person with whom you doubtly want to talk. Eun Jiwon. If not his lateness, you might have been in your bed already. But here he is, standing not far away from you, looking around in the weirdest way possible, - Why aren't you going home? It's late.

- I missed my bus. Subway station where I live is closed. Taxi doesn't want me. Enough? - you didn't mean to sound rude. But you are physically can't make up needed politeness right know; not now, please.

- Yeah, - he's nodding, turning around to leave and, to be extremely honest, now it's pretty much impossible to suppress tears. His back when he has moved in the direction of parking is too much. But what can he do? He's, again, not guilty in not meeting your expectations. Thanks for asking, at least.

And you will not cry now. In your bed, alone - maybe; most probably. But here - no way.

You look at the screen of smartphone again to find absolute nothing. By feet then.

- It's not that far anyways, - you sigh, adjusting your bag on a shoulder when you see a car stopping in a distance and.. it's creepy. You are not a panicking type, but now situation smells like shit and if someone would try to pack you in their trunk, most probably, they would succeed. Even with YG's security. Even with cameras. And lightning everywhere. Not a panicking type, yeah.

But while you were occupied with thoughts on how you should attack them, you missed Eun Jiwon standing in front of the car. You notice him when he starts to speak and it's the third time you want to cry today; just the emotions right now are completely different.

- You are stuck here because of me. And I feel bad for sleeping too much, - Jiwon smiles, pursuing his lips a little and somehow you can't be angry with him. He's honest, it's written on his face, - So I want to ask you if it's okay if I drive you home? As an apology.

And now you see some parallels you never wanted to see. Because your beloved boyfriend is somewhere out there chilling with 'guys' and someone, who's not even slightly responsible for you, is here.

He knows what he did wrong; and Jiwon doesn't slip an empty 'sorry' into nowhere. He apologizes while thinking about what he actually did wrong and how to change that. Such a rare trait to witness.

- I don't think that it's..

- If I didn't want to do it, I wouldn't ask, - even in his smile, you see that he's serious about it. It's hard to say 'no' right now. For many reasons.

- Okay then, - it's not like you want to decline a Mercedes ride either, let's be honest. He nods, opening the door for you and muttering small 'thank you', you hop inside, holding your breath for no apparent reason.

It's not like it was your first time sitting in this type of car costs like your approximately two year's allowance, it's just a bit...weird. Yet so extremely comfortable.

Jiwon is quick to seat beside you, driving away quickly. He puts on the heater immediately and you feel your face melting. You might as well fall in love with this car.

- Drop me your address, - you are still pressing your bag to your chest trying to relax when you hear him and you proceed what he means for a moment. What a fucked up day, you feel like a fool all of a sudden and it's not even weird at this point.

- I don't have your number, - now he's feeling himself like a fool and you laugh, glancing at his expression. He manages to look mature and hilarious at the same time. Mocking his fakely irritated 'write it then', you sign his contact as 'Eun Jiwon' and it feels.. interesting.

You send him a location of your home and then watch as he puts it into GPS, clearly not having an idea where is it.

- Does it happen often? - just the moment you manage to relax, Jiwon pushes you out of your wondering of how good it smells without cheap leather odor and disgusting sweet car condition aroma. You think for a minute then nod slowly, because it actually does.

- Not so often, but still, - you steal a glance at him again. It's not like you can stare at anyone with your boyfriend still being your boyfriend, but today is a mess. And Jiwon is certainly a nice sight to look at, - I can go on my own, but I'm tired today. Plus it's hard to grab a taxi from there, plus, - you emphasize it, watching how sights outside the window are a lot more familiar now, - Hella expensive. I don't even know why. They think I shit with money if I am taking a cab from YG? Fucking nonsense.

Jiwon laughs through all your ted talk and it's so contagious, suddenly. You lean on a seat, laughing as well, feeling your cheeks ache a little. Funny how it's light around all of a sudden. Perhaps it's because you feel yourself so distant from all that stress that got into you today? Because Jiwon was able to come and just sort it out without asking. Well, he can't fix Sungha, but the more you think about it, the more you realise that there is nothing to be fixed. Nothing you are able to fix, probably.

So, apparently, Jiwon helped you even there.

- It's not that funny, actually, - you look at him again and you meet his eyes suddenly. You don't even want to say 'watch the road', because for no reasons you are able to trust him with your life and overall you value the fact that he is looking at you more than the fact that you can die. He was holding a gaze for a second and you already imagined imaginations. Sungha, boyfriend, still alive. Stop.

- You were hilarious though, like, - he's silent for a second while he looks for a place to park, - Like Lucy. She also gets furious randomly and sounds exactly like you did.

- You just compared me to your girlfriend? She wouldn't like that, - you laugh because it's really funny. Yet no one was ever sure if he's single or not. You never expected finding out in this circumstances.

- What? No, - he laughs louder, hiding his teeth with his palm and looks at you for a few seconds with those shiny eyes, giggling like a teenager and you can't see a forty years old man in him anymore, - She's my dog.

Did he just boldly compared you to his dog?

Forty years old man, yeah.

You inhale deeply, trying to surpass a laugh and poke a finger at him, silently making your point. Jiwon makes the cutest 'what are you going to do to me, huh?' face, pursing his lips like a five year old boy and.. And you really try your best to keep 'I'll end you' look on your face (Spoiler: you failed). Anyhow, you want to forgive him for this comparison simply because he wasn't sulky about you being totally impolite with him. No fragile masculinity detected.

- This changes everything! - you turn around, opening the door because he literally had just parked and you leave, making sure he understands that you are kidding with this fake offense little perfomance and that he's smiling, when you turned around to wave him before entering the building.

The thing is, when you come home, you are not tired anymore. By any means; if not your mother sleeping peacefully you would probably be loud and hyperactive. And since you need to cosplay a ninja right now, you just lay on your bed, watching the ceiling silently. Perfect ending for a fucked up day.

You hear your phone buzzing and what you didn't expect to see is a message from Jiwon. The day couldn't be any more perfect, but it managed.

You open a short video of little and immensely cute white dog tiny barking at watches that lay on a sofa, buzzing. You even replay it, to seek for the point when he sends another text.

'she got angry with them because they were making sounds'

- Guess it shouldn't have any meaning, right? - you tap a replay with short but excited: 'she's cute!!' and feel your throat clenching suddenly at his instant reply.

'that's why I told that you are just like her'

You are not going to say that you feel like a teenager from some manga slowly falling in love with the main character but that's exactly how you feel.

After adjusting your breathing to normal again, you choose to ignore that (to not to show how fucking excited his subtle complement made you) and text him how thankful you are for his ride and wish him and his furiously cute Lucy a good night. And after some other preparations, you, again, choosing to ignore your actual boyfriend who's trying to call and text you for a good hour already.

You will need to work with him for a month. It's not going to end well.

[elasticbloodbear]

this explains why I haven't been miserable since I've taken on a sort of "what happens happens attitude". I still have bad days on occasion if things hit hard, but for the most part I just let things go how they're gonna go and adjust accordingly. looking at some things that have happened in the past 6-12 months, once upon a time I wouldve felt like offing myself over it, but now I just deal, occasionally laugh it off, and move on. did tripping on the street in full view of cars and people suck? yes, but shit happens, skin heals, and I had a bus to catch. Sure I was bummed for a bit when I had time to sit, my chin, elbow, and knee hurt and had bleed more than i had realized, but even being embarrassed like that isnt worth dying for, the 2 people that might have heard whatever noise I made, may not have actually heard or seen anything, and if they did they've got better shit to remember. I've had sucky coworkers, I've clashed with family members, I've lost friends that turned out to be flakes, my job doesnt pay much, but I've gotten through it all and in the end it didnt have any lasting effects.

granted this attitude applies to my feeling about death. if I die then oh well, at least I've got life insurance. I wont cause my own death, and I certainly fear pain and death, but if some dumbass runs me over what else am I gonna do but accept it? if fate sees fit to nerf me then whatever, guess it was my time. and to a point I use self aggrandizement some, it's also been mentioned to be a great coping mechanism because it still allows you to joke about mistakes, but with a positive spin. that trip? graceful, a near impossible feat, my blood type is gorgeous and now the sidewalk can be beautiful too! Along the same lines I honestly just dont believe I'm going to die for a long while and possibly cant. Theres been times where I've been super close to some sort of happening that could kill me but it just never did. my mom lives in a city that had tornadoes not only damn near every year, but always when I was staying there, and they've gotten real close to the neighborhood, one tornado sized step and the house would be gone, but they never did. When I was 4 I pulled the trigger on a gun my dad didnt have totally aimed yet, bullet ricocheted and went into my dads leg, small piece of concrete hit my brother in the chest (left a small cut he was totally fine, i would've done more damage by just chucking a rock at him), but me? the small child in my dads lap? almost frighteningly close to where the bullet ended up? totally un-fucking-scathed. my mom and step dad have been rear ended more than once, had I have been in the back I wouldn't be here, but it always happened on weekends they didnt have me, though that hasnt happened often enough for coincidence to be written off. there were a few incidents of gunfire outside my highschool, but I live in America so they cant really be counted.

Could I just be bad luck with a decent sized affect radius? absolutely. could it all be random coincidence? yeppers! do I choose to believe I just cant die because fuck it, it's not harming anyone, I'm not yelling at people to not be gay over my beliefs and we all believe something? ya got me. will I challenge the gods to dare try to bring me to my end? No, because I also believe it could be the protection of one or more gods for whatever reason they see fit and frankly I'd rather thank them, they've kept a nice balance of sickness, minor injury, and not being deaded. I dont think I'm totally invincible but death has certainly had its chance to come for me, I just think the attempts are being rerouted for now. distracted until the timing is wrong or having its aim messed with. its somewhat uplifting to have enough incidents be able to allow me to joke about not being able to die, I know I will someday. its inevitable. nananabooing the grim reaper just let's me not want to prove this aggrandized joke wrong.

also neutral thoughts are so much harder to joke with.

Love Yourself (even if sometimes others have to do it for you)