#I don't know why I remembered the stupid bridge

[magicinverse]

The little story behind Rivers bridge

The bridge in front of Rivis house was built by Roier with the help of Richas so she would have something to walk around easier and to begin with, Roier decided to build it fast so she could destroy it and do something pretty and decorated it how she wanted, Rivers thought the bridge was really ugly then she discovered he made it, Roier told her she could destroy it if she wanted and he wouldn't care, she didn't want to destroy it, she decided the bridge was going to stay cause he made it. So the bridge is still there

[bywons]

𖧷 HEARTSHAKER — LHS

⌕ lee heeseung doesn't know what he wants from his rival, better marks or a kiss

pairing. student!lee heeseung x student!fem! reader wc. 1.4k tw/cw. jealousy, kissing genre. academic rivals to lovers, fluff, highschool au sru's note. requested for my nini love ♡ shitty title ik but i hope ya'll like cuz i dont T0T ( CATALOGUE?! )

¤ feedbacks and reblogs are always appreciated! PLS REBLOG ♡

96 out of 100.

thanks to the almighty above that lee heeseung is tired, the basketball jersey stuck to his back, sweat covering his face and colouring the red fabric darker as he pants for his breath, or else the test paper in his hands would have been crumpled and ripped to shreds.

not because of his number obviously.

“99, i knew i rocked this paper!”, a dulcet, familiar voice floats up to heeseung's ear from behind him, followed by a mean eye roll from him and his stance still. heeseung doesn't bother to turn around, not when he recognizes the infuriating feminine voice and already visualises the usual dark brown braids hanging by the either sides of her face, school tie too tight and almost reaching the last button of the shirt.

“why the long face?”, jake's interruption breaks heeseung out of his trance, as he takes the much unwanted seat beside him, “96 not enough for ‘ya?”

“oh shut up”, heeseung returns jake’s scoff slamming down his physics answer sheet against the wooden table. both heeseung and jake know it's not enough, whether it's a 96 or a 99 ’cause,

“it's never enough unless i cross y/n’s marks”, heeseung sighs, the answer sheet dampening under the pressure of his sweaty hands, as his forehead became the victim of the other.

everyone in the class is aware of the cutthroat competition and abhorrence between the two brunettes, already expecting the usual bickering episode between the two whenever it was time for exam results, and even if by chance someone got the same results as any one of them, they'd do their best and not bother the two.

but today is different, today heeseung doesn't find his usual energy to bicker with the braided girl sitting at the back of the class, not when she managed to beat him thrice in a row at his own game!

“last time it was a marks’ difference and now three? how is this even possible?”, heeseung groans while flipping the sheets over and over as if something magical would happen and increase his numbers.

“i heard park sunghoon's been studying chemistry with her,” jake sighs, pushing his fingers through his dark hair as he turns his head to the side, but his eyes steal a glance at heeseung, and he smirks, “‘ya know, the chemistry toppe—”

“yeah yeah i got you jake, i know who he is”, heeseung presses the bridge of his nose a bit too hard, the familiar face of the boy floating up to his vision, though he can't remember where his loved moles are on him. oh how all the girls are head over heels for park sunghoon.

is y/n one of them too? he could swear they're hanging out too much.

stupid thought, stupid stupid thought. heeseung winces at his sudden curiosity, why is giving this matter so much thought? he doesn't like y/n anyway, he doesn't like her bickering, he doesn't like her annoying attitude, he doesn't like her hair, he doesn't like her scent and he definitely doesn't like her smile. so lee heeseung shouldn't really get his head messed up in this.

the school bell rings, bringing out new tedious groans and sighs from the students as they dawdle to their next classes.

“i think she's coming here—”

“don't you have a physics class to be at, jake?”

“yeah yeah shoo me away all you want to”, jake scoffs, a smirk playing at his lips when he slings a bag on his shoulder before leaving the class, “bet you can't shoo away her.”

and before heeseung even knew it the class was empty, except him and as empty, dispersed out in the crowded hallways to their next classes. that is unless the previous dulcet but annoying voice came closer to heeseung.

“heeseung!”, you chirp, approaching him from behind, “how was your paper?”

“ugh what do you—”, heeseung's anger dies down when he turns around to face you, your hair's not done into braids today, instead it's let open with your tie loose this time, a few drops of sweat sticking to your forehead, dance practice maybe? “—w-want?”

“your marks of course,” you giggle at his stutter, taking a seat beside him, “wanna make sure if i beat you or nah.”

“yeah you did, but not on your own huh?”, heeseung scoffs, looking down at you. he realises his heart skips a beat when you tilt your head to the side, holding eye contact.

not good.

“huh? what do you mean heeseung?”, you pout, acting ever so confused by his accusation, “not on my own?”

“oh come on, the whole class knows it now”, heeseung rolls his eyes, “park sunghoon, rings any bell?”

“oh hoon?”, you grin, covering your mouth and suppressing a small giggle, “he did help me a lot with chemistry, he's so sweet!”

heeseung doesn't realise his face is getting hotter and redder by the minute, both by your presence and the pronunciation of somebody else's name. he has a nickname already? hoon? no way, you have only ever interacted with him, whether it was bickering or asking for notes or silently sitting beside each other. so how did this other guy pop up?

“hoon,” heeseung mumbles his nickname, his eyes searching for something in yours and he doesn't even notice he's sounding jealous, “how are you guys so close already…”

“well he's been tutoring me chemistry for a month now—”

“a month?!”, heeseung's brows lift up and his jaw hangs open.

heeseung doesn't know if he likes your new look, the way the curls of your hair rests on your shoulders, the way your tie is loose from your neck and the way your head tilts to look at his, heeseung's heart skips a beat and it knows something is wrong.

“why? is something—” your lips fall apart, a soft blush takes place on your cheeks and you giggle again, in a teasing tone you nudge heeseung's arm, “aww are you jealous?”

“what? don't be ridiculous now.”

“heeseung is jealous, you are jealous, you are jealous j-e-a-l-o-u-s”, you continue this song, nudging heeseung and teasing him more and more, causing his cheeks to heat up, eyes turning back to the open window and then back to yours.

“shut up y/n, you're not funny”, he scowls, the soft breeze enters the empty classrooms and hits the both of you like a refreshing wave.

and in that moment, through your teasing manner, the empty classroom, the echoes of your laughter and the soft breeze caressing your hair, your long dark hair that matched his and the way his heart skipped a beat, the way his heart always skipped a beat while you were around, he realises it's something good.

“if you shut up now i swear y/n”, heeseung tried and kept his best ‘angry at you’ acting.

“oh really? then why don't you make me?”, a soft chuckle leaves your lips and you squint your eyes.

it happens all so fast, heeseungs soft lips on yours, falling right into place. it tickles you a bit like feathers and pulls you in, until you realise that's his hand snaking around your waist. the kiss was delicate, caring and brought so much warmth from a person you only argued with.

you gasp for air, first one to pull back.

you meet his eyes, scurrying through yours and cheeks all red, probably embarrassed of what he did. the kiss quickly coloured your cheeks, a shy smile playing around your lips and a small glint in your eyes.

“i-i don't know what i did—”

“its okay heeseung”, you shush a nervous heeseung, the proximity increasing the pace of your hearts, “do you like me?”

“i love you”, heeseung answers almost instantly, “i love everything about you.”

“me too”, heeseung is the most relieved as he hears this, that hoon guy got nothing on him now. he's the winner.

“so, are we gonna date then?”, he chuckles.

you nod, “let's surprise the class together!”

lee heeseung doesn't know what he wanted when he got his answer sheets. better marks than y/n, a bickering episode with her, or maybe her to fall in love with her? he doesn't know.

a smirk falls upon his lips and he pulls you closer by your waist. he looked ever so magical and beautiful up close, that you wish the bickering had died down earlier.

“whatever you say, pretty girl”, he leans in for a second kiss, indulging himself more into you, he swears his heart will beat out of the chest as soon as his free hand makes contact with your dark strands of hair.

outside the class stands a grinning jake with a bored sunghoon, and a quite high five is shared between the two, carefully peeking inside.

© bywons, 2024. do not copy, translate or upload any of my works without my permission.

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[steddiehyperfixation]

don't you forget about me (part two)

(part one)

Steve doesn’t know how long they sit there in silence, waiting. It’s making him insane. The seconds pass too slow; the seconds pass too fast. His mind is a storm; his mind is empty. He’s feeling too much; he’s not feeling at all. He paces the room; he sits catatonically against a wall. He needs to get out of here; he needs to stay. 

He’s been here before, just barely over a week ago, tense and anxious and despairing and waiting for news. But waiting to hear if Eddie will ever remember him again really should not feel this much worse than waiting to hear if Eddie will ever fucking breathe again. Steve thinks there must be something wrong with him. He’s being selfish and stupid. His pathological fucking need to be loved is not what’s important right now. Eddie is alive and awake and okay and that’s the only thing that really matters. That’s the only thing he should really care about.

Steve’s pacing again now, yanking his hands through his hair as he does laps around the room until Eddie finally appears in the doorway. 

Eddie must’ve just cracked a joke or something because the nurse is laughing as she pushes his bed into the room and he’s got this adorable grin on his face. Steve’s heart twists in his chest and he nearly bursts into tears all over again because god does he want nothing more than to press a kiss to those dimpled cheeks. 

“Good news, boys,” Eddie announces. “My brain is fully intact.”

“There’s no physical permanent damage to his brain,” the nurse elaborates. “His amnesia is likely a result of psychological trauma and the temporary disruption of brain function from blood loss and lack of oxygen that occurred at the time of his injury. But there is no obvious reason why he shouldn’t regain his full memory, given time.” 

So there’s hope. Steve breathes a sigh of relief. 

“That is good news,” Wayne agrees. 

Steve asks, “How much time?” 

The nurse gives an unhelpful shrug. “Impossible to say. It could be anywhere from days to months, or even years. I’m sorry, there’s no way for us to know.” 

Years. “Okay.” Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. He can keep it together. He can. “Thanks,” he tells the nurse. “I, uh-” He makes the mistake of looking at Eddie who looks right through him, and Steve can’t keep it together anymore actually. “I gotta update the kids,” he mutters, backing his way towards the door. Wayne nods in acknowledgment; no protests this time at Steve’s excuse to leave.

“See ya, Harrington,” Eddie calls after him, casual, impersonal, like they're nothing more than acquaintances passing by each other in a high school hallway.  

Steve can’t get out of that hospital fast enough. 

He makes it to his car in record time, slamming the door shut and sinking heavily into the driver’s seat. A ragged sob tries to claw its way up his throat now that he’s finally alone, but he forces it back, staving off his breakdown for just a little bit longer. As much as it was an excuse, he really does have to update the kids. 

Steve fishes his walkie out of the glove box. “Code - whatever, I don’t know. Code Eddie,” he says. He doesn’t remember the kids’ system of codes, nor would he be sure which one this news falls under even if he did. 

“Is he okay? Is he awake?” comes an immediate, eager response from Dustin. “Over.” 

“Yeah, he’s awake, and he’s fine, except he’s got pretty bad amnesia. The doctors say it should be temporary, but right now he doesn’t remember anything since May of ‘85,” Steve explains, trying his best to keep his voice even.

“Steve, come pick me up and take me to see him,” Dustin demands, “right now. Over.” 

“Me too. Over,” Mike chimes in before Steve can respond. 

“And us,” Erica adds as well.��

Steve pauses for a second, both to steady his own breath and to make sure no one else wants to jump in on this too, before he reminds them, “He won’t know you, any of you.” 

“I don’t care,” Dustin says, bossy as ever. “Just come get me. Over.” 

“Jesus Christ, kid,” Steve mutters to himself. He sucks in another breath; it wobbles dangerously. He’s just about reached his limit on how long he can keep himself from falling apart. “I- I need a minute, alright?” he manages through the walkie. “Can you just give me, like, an hour? And then I’ll take you guys to visit Eddie.” 

Steve doesn’t wait for a response before he slams the antenna closed, tosses the walkie aside, and finally, finally lets himself shatter. That sob rips free from his throat, followed by another and another and another. Tears flood from his eyes; his nose runs. It’s an ugly, gross, visceral cry that leaves him exhausted and raw and aching to be held by the time the last sob shudders out of him. Drained and hollow, he craves the embrace of someone who knows him, someone who loves him. 

He sweeps up his broken pieces, wipes the mess of tears and snot off his face, and drives to Robin’s house.

“Steve, oh my god.” Robin pulls him into a hug the second she opens the door and sees the look on his face. Steve clings to her. “What happened?” 

“Eddie’s awake,” he mutters dismally. 

“Oh! Not the tone I’d expect you to deliver that news in, but okay.” Robin pulls back, looking at him with narrow-eyed concern and confusion as she analyzes his puffy eyes and red nose and swollen lips. “And you look like you’ve just been crying because…?”

“Because he doesn’t remember me, Rob,” Steve sighs. “He doesn’t remember anything from the past 11 months.” 

Robin’s eyes go wide now. “Shit,” she says, so plainly it startles a short laugh out of Steve. 

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Shit.” 

She asks him more questions as she walks down the hallway so they can talk in her room. Steve once again reiterates what was said at the hospital. 

“So you didn’t tell him you two were a thing?” Robin asks, closing her door behind them. 

“Of course I didn’t.” Steve flops back onto her bed. “I didn’t want to spook him.” 

She sits beside him. “You didn’t want to spook him,” she repeats, looking down at him with raised eyebrows, “but you told him about Vecna.” 

“Well, yeah. I just-” He lifts his arms to gesture vaguely into the air as he tries to explain himself. “I mean, imagine how you would feel if you woke up in a hospital and some random guy you’ve spoken to maybe twice was by your bedside telling you you’ve been in a relationship with him for the past 9 months.” 

“Uh, I don’t know, dingus, probably about the same as I’d feel if said guy told me I’d nearly died fighting some evil twisted creature from a hell dimension,” Robin retorts.

Steve drops his hands onto his chest with a huff, shaking his head. “No, trust me. He seemed far less surprised by that than he did to hear that we were even just friends,” he says, a bit bitterly. Tears are pricking at his eyes again as he looks up at his best friend. “You didn’t see the way he looked at me, Robin. All he saw was King Steve.”

Robin softens, snark replaced with sympathy. “That sucks, Steve. I’m so sorry.” 

Steve sighs in agreement that yes this really fucking sucks. He sits up and scoots back so that he’s slumped against the wall, hitting the back of his head against it. “I think I’m a horrible person,” he admits, just venting now, “because of course I’m glad Eddie’s alive and all I really want is for him to be okay, and I know the nurse said he should remember eventually, but there’s still some sick part of me that thinks maybe it would’ve hurt less if he had just died.”

“I don’t think that makes you a horrible person,” Robin assures him as she settles next to him, shoulder to shoulder. “I think you’re just grieving, and grief is weird sometimes.”

“It was one of the worst things I’ve ever felt,” he mutters, “when he looked at me without recognition. To see it on his face, just the- the absence of everything that we’d built. I’ve never felt so- so- I don’t know, it was like I couldn’t breathe. He just- he doesn’t know that I love him. He…he doesn’t know that he loved me...” 

Because that’s what it is, isn’t it? It’s not that he’s lost someone that he loves, it’s that he’s lost someone who loves him. Because Eddie’s not gone, just his love for Steve is, and that’s what’s tearing him apart. It’s the fact that there’s one less person in the world who loves him. It’s the fact that Steve’s got this big gaping hole inside of him that’s always made him so desperate to be loved, liked, wanted, needed; and his biggest fucking fear is becoming obsolete. He could probably trace it back to his parents, the first to forget him, the first to stop loving him, but the fact remains that now Eddie has fulfilled that fear too. Now Eddie has carved that pit a little deeper, a little darker, validating the voice that whispers within it and tells Steve that he is forgettable, unlovable, so easy to abandon and erase. 

“Well, I love you,” Robin tells him, like she can read his mind (which, at this point, she probably can). She slides an arm around his shoulders, hugs him close. “And I’m not going anywhere.” 

Fragile as he is right now, Steve falls apart again in her arms, and she holds him together. Because she knows him, because she loves him.

It’s a quieter cry this time, soft and sniffly. Whereas the last one wracked through his body and left him fatigued, this one flows from him almost gently, and when his tears finally subside and he lifts his head from where it had been buried in his friend’s shoulder, Steve actually feels a little bit better, a little bit stronger. Which is good, because he’s gonna have to face Eddie again soon. 

“Thank you,” he says quietly as he pulls away from Robin, wiping at his eyes and glancing at the clock on her nightstand. It’s definitely been an hour by now, probably more. He stands. “I have to go, I promised the kids I’d take them to see Eddie.” 

“Then I’m coming too.” Robin stands with him. “For moral support.” 

Steve gives her a grateful smile. “I love you so fucking much, you know that?” 

“Yeah.” She grins at him. “I know.” 

~ 

The nurses have changed his bandages and upped his morphine, so Eddie’s considerably hazy now but at least he can raise his headrest and prop himself up a bit without nearly blacking out from pain. He’s boredly flicking through channels on the shitty TV in front of him, alone since Wayne had to leave for work, when Harrington returns followed by a very unexpected group consisting of Robin Buckley and four strange children. 

“Sorry,” Harrington announces their presence with an apologetic shrug, “I know you don’t know them anymore, but they insisted.” 

“Eddie!” a pudgy, curly-haired kid shouts before Eddie can even react, coming barrelling towards him and trying to hug him. 

“Ow!” Eddie yelps, pain flaring even through the extra morphine. “Fucking Christ, kid! Be careful!” 

The kid jumps back immediately, eyes wide. “Shit. Sorry.” 

“S’fine,” Eddie grumbles.

The kid looks at him expectantly for a moment before seeming to realize, “Oh, right, you don’t remember me. I’m Dustin.” 

“Ah, so you’re the guy I sacrificed myself for,” Eddie mutters, and Dustin looks a little sheepish. That means these must be ‘the kids’ Harrington had been talking about earlier. He surveys the group for a second. “Actually, I think we have met before,” he tells Dustin. “And you too.” He glances at a pale, dark-haired kid. The other two - a Black boy with a flat-top and a younger Black girl - look less familiar, though. “There was this, uh, open day thing at the high school for next year’s incoming freshmen; I talked to you about Hellfire.”

“Yeah!” Dustin’s whole face lights up, so bright and infectious it makes Eddie grin too. “Yeah, you did!” 

“So you guys joined the club, then?” 

This sparks a very animated conversation about D&D, the rest of the kids (Mike, Lucas, and Erica, as they soon reintroduce themselves) gathering around his bed now too to join in. It makes him feel a bit more like himself again, familiar, normal. Except, of course, for the fact that they’re not only talking about how they defeated Vecna in Eddie’s “totally epic” and “sadistic” campaign (adjectives courtesy of Dustin and Mike respectively), but also filling in more pieces of the story of how they defeated him in real life too. Still, it’s nice, fun. He totally understands how he could’ve gotten attached to these kids.

At some point, Eddie glances over to find Harrington hanging back and just watching them talk, fondly, wistfully. Robin whispers something to him and he sort of smiles, just a trace, and whispers something back. They seem close, intimate. Eddie wonders if they’re dating, and then he wonders why that thought makes him feel a bit sick. He waves them over. Harrington looks like he’s about to protest, but Robin gives him a Look and he allows her to grab his hand and drag him to join the crowd around Eddie’s bed. 

“So, what’s your deal, Buckley?” Eddie asks her. He doesn’t know her very well, they’ve only crossed paths a few times in the bandroom, but right now that makes her the most familiar person in the room to him. “Are you and Harrington a thing now? Is that how you’re involved in all this?” 

Robin wrinkles her nose and drops Harrington’s hand. “Ew, no. Definitely not.” 

“She’s my best friend,” Harrington says. 

Eddie snorts, doesn’t know why he finds that so comical. (He’s starting to get tired and it’s making him loopy. Or maybe it’s just the morphine.) “You've got a funny choice of friends nowadays, don’t you? Me and band geek Buckley and a bunch of nerdy freshmen.” He looks at Harrington with incredulous amusement. “Who would've thought, huh? Steve Harrington, collector of geeks and freaks.” 

Harrington doesn’t seem to find it as funny. He shrugs. “Yeah, well, it’s better than King Steve, collector of asshole bullies and shallow one-night stands.” 

“Yeah, ‘course it is,” Eddie agrees through another huff of laughter that breaks off into a yawn. “Didn’t mean it as a bad thing, Stevie. Was a compliment.” 

“Alright.” The barest hint of a smile flickers across Harrington’s face now, but then he’s looking away and corralling the kids and saying, “We should head out, let you get some rest.” 

And Eddie kind of wishes he’d stay.

(part three!)

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[homunculus-argument]

I've never really had the proper opportunity to play, but I fucking love reading peoples' DnD stories online. Yeah the stories people end up sharing are just the highlight reels and the greatest hits in sessions that might not have been that fun all the way through, but I read them the same way that people who don't play sports watch sports on the TV.

Like this one I read years ago but still remember. There was a party where the only human was their Pretty Boy Idiot Bard (the funniest type of bard) with next to nothing in intelligence but wildly high charisma, making him vital as the murderhobo party's Public Relations in any kind of negotiations, but absolutely useless anywhere else. Nobody else but the DM and the bard's player enjoyed that stuff more than combat and dungeons so the DM peppered in a lot of opportunities for the band to literally get away with murder just because That One Is So Pretty.

And the party in question ends up entering a fairly standard-looking dungeon, in search for a specific item. The one telling the story was playing a tiefling rogue, and at this point she noticed that the bard's player and the DM had shot a few "I noticed that you noticed that I noticed it too" sort of trying-not-to-laugh glances, and suspected that something was up, but decided not to say anything, in-character or out.

They end up encountering a chasm on the dungeon floor, a seemingly endless ravine that none of them could jump or climb over, and stop to figure out how to cross it. Another player character - a half-elf - asks if any of them can see anything they could use as a tool, maybe something they could use to build a bridge. Before anyone starts doing perception checks, the bard speaks up.

"I don't know. I went blind, like, two hours ago."

And at this point the rest of the party realises that they don't have a torch, or anything that'd give them light. The bard is the only one in the party who doesn't have darkvision. He hasn't seen shit for the entire time they've been in the dungeon. And he's too damn stupid to figure out why.

[thepixelelf]

and the universe said,

07 - "bro, chill"

genres/tags: soulmate au, idol au, comedy, romance, dumbassery relationship(s): ot13 x reader chapter warnings: coarse language. kithing. a liiitle svt on svt violence note: ik it's been a long time please be nice to me <3 (this isn't edited... I'll take a look at it when I have the time)

When soulmates are suddenly thrust upon the world, you are one in a million who wishes they weren’t – and that’s before you meet the person (people?!) making your life much harder than it needs to be. And before someone asks you to sign an NDA.

series masterlist

prev ⭒ chapter seven (4.0k) ⭒ next

“Where are they?” Myungjun asks as soon as Jihoon and Junhui enter the room they agreed upon.

Junhui braces both of his arms on the back of a chair. “What do you mean?”

“Your soulmate—” Cutting himself off with a sigh, Myungjun pinches the bridge of his nose and answers his own question. “You didn’t bring them.”

Yejung, who was sitting at a table with her laptop, shuts it with a frown. “Why not?”

Junhui shrugs. “I’m just here because Jihoon dragged me out.” He shifts between looking at the three other people in the room. “You guys know I just met my soulmate, right? I don’t like not having them here with me, either.”

“Well then why didn’t you—”

“They don’t know.” Jihoon cuts off Myungjun’s words, then pulls out a chair and drops himself in it. He stares at a random spot on the table. When he doesn’t elaborate any further, Yejung sends a furtive glance Myungjun’s way.

“Don’t know…” She leans her forearms on the table and scoots her chair closer. “...what? That you’re their soulmate? That there’s more than one of you? That you’re famous?”

Junhui snorts. “All of the above?”

At Junhui's quip and Jihoon's continued silence, Myungjun raises a cynical brow.

"You didn't tell them?" Yejung asks, softly shocked. "Why?"

Junhui's eyes skirt to Jihoon; he's unwilling to share his own reasons, though he doesn't quite understand this about himself, either.

Jihoon sighs. "I don't know. It's complicated. Things happened too fast the first time we—"

"The first time?" Myungjun echoes. "So you've been with them multiple times."

“Don’t say it like that.” Jihoon almost pouts, but the facial expression just makes him look angry. “Look. I ran into them when the vocal team was on the way to that radio show. We’d stopped by a cafe and there wasn’t much time and I was so out of my mind that I—” He cuts himself off. “It doesn’t matter. I got their number, and then they left. I asked to meet today and we did. Jun was already there for…” With his arms crossed, Jihoon looks over at Junhui, remembering that he still doesn’t really know what Junhui was doing at the same cafe you apparently frequent. Is this the same cat cafe Junhui is always talking about? “…some reason. Then someone started singing, and they told us their soulmate is stupid and annoying because their mark…”

“It’s not like ours,” Junhui finishes for Jihoon, though this only deepens the confusion written on Yejung and Myungjun’s faces.

“If it's not like yours, then how do you know they're your—”

“It's them, Hyung.” Jihoon can't help noticing the hopelessness in his own voice. It's you. He knows it's you.

But you don't know it's them— him.

And he's not sure you want to know.

“Their mark, like, grows,” Junhui explains. “Ours just stay on our hands, but when one of us sings, the notes go all over their arms and neck. Maybe other places — I don’t know — but they obviously don’t think it’s either of us since we weren’t singing when their mark did its thing.”

“So…” Myungjun crosses his arms and taps his finger on his bicep. “They don't like their mark.”

Junhui doesn't nod right away, but he does eventually.

Myungjun turns to Jihoon. “And you think that means they don't like you.”

Groaning and rubbing his hands over his face, Jihoon doesn't dignify that with a response. “Even if they did like their mark, it’s an insane situation. Thirteen soulmates? They’re gonna run for the hills when they find out.”

“That’s not necessarily true,” Yejung says, to which Jihoon gives her a dry look and Junhui’s eyes light up. She clears her throat. “We just need to find a way to calmly inform them of the situation — preferably in a safe, comfortable environment.”

Myungjun recognizes a Yejung Game Plan brewing when he sees it. “Basically, what she’s saying is…”

“Let me talk to them.” Yejung opens her laptop again and begins typing away. “We just need to go about this in a calm, logical manner.” She gives a little nonchalant wave of her hand. “This’ll be easier than a design meeting.”

⭒

You’re sitting on the floor of your apartment, arms crossed, legs too, as you stare down at the shiny black credit card lying there between you and Heejun. His position mirrors yours, head tilted while he studies the card.

“It could be fake,” you say. Your knee bounces up and down, up and down.

Heejun lifts his head to give you a look. “Why would it be fake?”

“He said he doesn’t believe in banks.”

“It doesn’t look fake.” Heejun reaches out and takes the card, flipping it over in his fingers to read the back. “Looks like any other credit card. We should test it.”

You frown. “How?”

“Uh,” Heejun speaks like the answer is obvious. “Buy something?”

Okay, it is obvious, but the idea doesn’t sit too well with you. “Isn’t that stealing?”

“He gave you the card.”

“Yeah, but the police don’t know that,” you argue. “If I got charged for fraud, it would be his word against mine— no one would believe coffee guy just handed me his black card.”

Without moving his head, Heejun glances up from the card to look at you. "Why would he lie?"

"Um, because he already has? Who knows— maybe this card is connected to illicit activities and he planted it on me to implicate me."

“Which he would do because…?”

You throw your hands up in the air, then let them drop emphatically at your side. “I don’t know! Why did he do any of what he did?”

He raises a brow. “Because he’s a weirdo who likes you?”

“Okay but have you ever given your credit card to a person you’ve only met twice?”

Heejun’s shoulders rise in a shrug. “I’ve wanted to.”

“Seriously?” You can’t imagine your friend going that gaga over a crush, but then again, there was that girl in fourth grade whom he gave all his choco pies to. Heejun loves choco pies.

“Mine would decline though. It wouldn’t exactly impress.”

You lightly shove his shoulder. “Oh come on, it wouldn’t decline.”

“It would if they went over the limit. People only give people their credit cards for expensive stuff. You know that, right?”

The black card gleams up at you, almost tauntingly.

“Expensive stuff like what?”

He shrugs again. “Like a car?”

“You’ve been watching too many CEO dramas.” You exhale and place both hands on the floor with a pointed slam. Standing, you pick the credit card up and brush imaginary dirt off your pants.

“You won’t be so sarcastic when Park Seojoon tells you to keep that thing.”

You roll your eyes as you toss the card into the same trinket dish you keep your keys and other miscellaneous things in. “Isn’t that guy like six foot?”

“So was Huijun,” he counters.

“So are you. Is that all it takes to be a CEO nowadays?” you joke, pulling out your phone. “Height?”

Heejun scoffs, then frames his chin with his thumb and forefinger. “That and my devilish good looks.”

“Please.” You tap on a notification from an unknown number. “If that were true, you’d be the one handing out black…cards…”

At the way you trail off, Heejun furrows his brow and walks over to you. “What’s up? Did you fall for another online scam?”

Not this again. “Okay, first of all, that was not a scam, and I did not fall for it—”

“You didn’t fall for a not scam?”

“Shut up. What do you think this means?” You turn your phone towards him, and he takes it from your unsteady hand.

He reads aloud. “‘Hello, this is Shin Yejung of Pledis Entertainment.’ Did you apply there?”

“No,” you say, then shake your head and wave your hand. “I mean. I don’t know. Maybe. I applied to like five hundred places. But this isn’t that. Keep reading.”

Heejun takes a breath and starts reading like he’s holding a new edict. “‘It has come to my attention that you are in possession of one of my coworker’s bank cards.’ Oooooh, you’re in trouble.” He drags out the last syllable. “‘Please meet me at…’ whatever building, numbers numbers numbers… ‘so I can retrieve it. Please reply to this number for more information, and thank you for your time.’ Hm.”

“What do you think… am I getting arrested?”

Lowering your phone, Heejun gives you a seriously? look over it. “The cops are texting criminals now?”

“So you agree I’m a criminal.”

“You get annoying when you’re nervous, you know that?” When you roll your eyes, Heejun mirrors the expression and pokes your forehead long enough that he pushes you backward. “Look bub, you wanted to give the stupid thing back without using it, and now the opportunity has been handed right to you.” He waves your phone in the air like evidence. “The only question is why coffee guy didn’t just text you himself.”

You cross your arms. “Maybe he doesn’t like me as much as you thought.”

“One more self-deprecating comment out of you and I’m posting those pictures from your twentieth birthday.”

A gasp wrenches from your throat. “You wouldn’t!”

⭒

Joshua Hong doesn’t think he has that many unread messages on his phone.

He looks down.

Oof. 682.

Well, it’s not his worst.

Notifications fly by at the top of his screen.

[vernon] where is this guy

[chan] hyung this is important!!

[wonwoo] when have we known that guy to answer anything

[soonyoung] someone text yejung!!

It’s probably not that important, whoever they’re talking about. His members are likely just freaking out over this whole soulmate thing again.

Joshua lifts his hand and stares at his weird, natural — supernatural — tattoo. He still can’t bring himself to believe it.

Soulmates? Really? In this economy? This isn’t Tumblr.

At least… Joshua looks around the dance practice room… He’s pretty sure this isn’t Tumblr.

His phone rings, which is weird since he always has it on silent. Sliding the answer button, he brings the phone up to his ear. “Yejung?”

“Where are you?”

“The practice room,” Joshua answers plainly. “Isn’t this where we’re supposed to be today?”

Yejung sighs on the other end of the line. “I said in the group chat that we were dealing with soulmate stuff. Upstairs.”

Ah, so that’s what has everyone in a tizzy. “Alright, okay. Where am I going?”

“Room eight-thirteen—” He hangs up and starts to pack his things before Yejung can say, “Wait, no, nine-thirteen. We'll start when you arrive. Joshua? Hello?”

⭒

You check your phone for what must be upwards of the fifth time.

Yup, Shin Yejung of Pledis Entertainment definitely told you to meet her in room 813, and yet here you are. In room 813. Alone.

You shift on the leather couch. It’s a lounge-like room you’re in. You don’t really understand the purpose of such a room in an entertainment company, but whatever. You’re only here to return something you never should’ve had in the first place.

Although…

You turn the card over in your hand, watching the way the fancy lighting bounces off of it.

Why would Jihoon give it to you if he was just going to get it back like this?

Also, now that you really think about it, Jihoon did say something weird when he left yesterday with Huijun. Something about not letting “the rest” scare you off. Whatever that means.

The rest of what?

Or… whom?

You know Jihoon must work for the company in some capacity. The fact that both he and Huijun were wearing masks makes you think they could be artists…

Oh. Duh. Why didn’t you think of this earlier?

Switching apps, you tap the search bar and start typing. Just as you’re done with the last character of Jihoon HYBE, the door you entered through opens. You hastily slip your phone into your back pocket as you stand to greet the person coming in.

“Hello, you must be…” Your eyes scan over his face. He’s… delicate looking, until you move your gaze downwards a little, and his broad shoulders and thick arms are decidedly not delicate looking. “…Shin Yejung?”

You tilt your head. With no mask on the lower half of his face, he seems familiar. Now this guy must be an idol — you probably saw him on the walls when you were making your way through this maze of a building. 

He just raises a brow. “Who are you?”

“Oh, uh…” You stay standing in front of the couch as he approaches you, his arms crossed over his chest. “I’m just here to return this.” Lifting the black card up, you hold it out between you and the man. “It’s Jihoon’s.”

“Jihoon’s?” he echoes, then moves to take the card from you, pinched between his thumb and forefinger. 

You both see it at the same time.

His mark, five black lines, clear as day.

Yours, peeking out from where your sleeve is pulled halfway up your hand.

You look up from your not-really-joined hands, then look down again.

No fucking way. 

“Twinkle twinkle, little—” The notes, whatever they are, dance across his mark.

No fucking way. 

You meet his eyes. “...Songbird?”

He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. A few too many seconds.

Then, “So it’s you.”

“Holy—!”

At the same time as you try to jerk away, he attempts to turn your hand over and get a better look. Neither plan really works out. You stumble backwards, and with your hand in his, he gets pulled down with you onto the couch. His free hand shoots out to keep himself from slamming into you, but, persistent as the universe is, your faces end up very freaking close to each other anyway. Warmth from his knee on the couch cushion next to your thigh seeps through your clothing.

He doesn’t move. You don’t either.

For some reason, you feel stuck in place. Not in a bad way, necessarily, but… you just feel like you should be exactly where you are.

You’re almost too close to make real eye contact, so you just watch the way his eyes study yours.

“Songbird?” you whisper, though you have no idea what you’re trying to ask.

He stops analyzing you and finally looks at you. “Yeah?”

“…Are you leaning towards me on purpose?”

His lips (since when were you looking at those?) curl down at the corners. “Are you?”

Slowly, like your mind is trying to catch up to your body, you shake your head. “No…”

He drifts closer. Or you do. Or you both do.

Or something.

Your lips brush over his, and you feel just as much as you hear him whisper. “Then neither am I.”

In the span of a second, his free hand moves from the back of the couch to cradle your jaw, his thumb grazing gently just under your ear. He kisses you, lips moving over yours in a way you’ve felt before, but also in a way you’ve never felt before.

It’s strange.

Not bad strange, but strange in the way that it feels like you’ve just put the last of the groceries in the fridge. It’s like folding that final piece of laundry. Like coming home to the bed you made when you left in the morning.

It’s… satisfactory?

But that’s not the word people normally use when they think of putting their tongue in someone else’s mouth, right?

You’re running out of breath, but Songbird is insistent, and so are his lips, which you find yourself unable to get enough of. He pulls back for half a breath, registers your kiss me again or so help me facial expression, and dives right back in. He’s kissing you and you’re kissing him and you’re soulmates and…

Wait.

Soulmates?

“Wait,” you say, though it comes out more like, “Mmaem” Climbing both your hands up his — whoa — strong arms, you cup his cheeks in preparation to push him away, but he seems to like your touch. He covers the back of one of your hands with his warm palm, and he hums in a way that is not PG-13.

The sound has you melting, unfortunately.

Not for long though.

He’s ripped from you just as quickly as he fell onto you, pulled back by some guy with fluffy black hair, cozy attire head to toe, and… shit, a you’re in trouble glare the likes of which you’ve never seen before. He’s not even looking at you, yet you feel scolded.

“Yah!” he yells at your soulmate, who’s now on the floor. Then, after glancing at you for half a second and apparently finding zero more words to say, he shouts at him again. “Yah!”

Your soulmate opens his mouth, but then he turns to look at the now-open door, which leads you to do the same. A mob of prettyboys stands just outside, some with their jaws dropped and some looking like murder just got legalized and they’re on the prowl.

Someone’s despondent voice shouts, “Hyung!”

You feel like hiding under a blanket. Before your flight instinct kicks in, though, you recognize two familiar faces. “Jihoon?” His eyes meet yours when you say his name. “Huijun?”

One of the many boys among those you don't recognize echoes, “Huijun?” while sending him a weird look.

Someone pushes through the crowd — more like slinks through, occasionally nudging one of the other guys out of the way. His eyes stay firmly on you as he approaches, but you find no fear rising despite that. For some unknown reason, even as this completely unfamiliar man strides over to you with a frankly alarming amount of eye contact, you feel… safe.

Or at least, something close to it.

He kneels in front of where you're still seated on the leather couch, hand resting mere centimetres from leg. “Are you okay?” he asks, voice slightly nasal, but so, so gentle. 

“Uhh…” Self conscious, you wipe at the corner of your mouth with your sleeve. You spot your soulmate catch you doing so, and a look of hurt crosses his face. His own reaction, though, seems to startle him, and his hand rises to gently prod his shiny bottom lip with one of his fingers. He looks confused.

Well, that makes two of you.

Taking in the man right in front of you — pretty, lithe, concerned for you despite his unfamiliarity — you fail to answer his question. “Are… you Shin Yejung?”

He lets out a laugh, relieved, maybe, that you're not not okay. “Jeonghan,” he says simply.

You nod. “Jeonghan.”

At your voice echoing his name, the man’s eyes light up. “Yes?”

“Oh, uh…” You weren’t trying to call on him for anything, but as you study his gaze, you find yourself lost in his confident ease. Something in his eyes says that he knew this would happen.

Maybe not this, exactly — your soulmate has found a spot on the floor and has not stopped staring at it, while the rest of the strangers are still watching you — but taking up the same space as you, facing you, smiling at you with a soft quirk at the corners of his lips.

“Ugh!” A woman’s exasperated voice makes you look up at the crowd by the door. “Get— out of the way, you… ugh—” She breaks through, pushing aside a tall guy who looks like he’s about to cry. “—you men!”

Stumbling to her feet, she rights herself and brushes her bangs out of her face with a huff. “Now, what is—” She spots your soulmate still on his ass and mutters something you’re pretty sure can’t be aired on any broadcasting network. “...my life.”

Your eyes meet hers as she takes another breath. “Please tell me you’re Shin Yejung.”

“Yes, we spoke over the phone.”

“Thank god.” Shaking off all the weird feelings you’d accumulated in the last — what? Two minutes? — you stand from the couch and sidestep Jeonghan. The black card fell at some point during that lapse of judgement (aka kiss), so you swipe it up off the floor and hold it out to her with no preamble. “I swear I’m not a stalker fan or anything. And I didn’t use it, so…”

You glance over at Jihoon, whose expression gives off an oncoming panic. Is he scared to see you? Why? Huijun looks just fine, happy even, with you here. You can practically hear the ‘hello’ he wants to say out loud.

You clear your throat. “Anyway, um. I didn’t mean to, uh…” As you nervously cross your arms, you nod towards your soulmate. “I’m his— I mean, we are… sorry. This is… I wasn’t exactly expecting to find the person who’s…”

Maybe you shouldn’t say you’ve been annoyed by your soulmate since you got your stupid mark. At least not while he’s in the room.

“That’s actually what I brought you here to talk about,” Shin Yejung tells you, a bit like a doctor who’s about to deliver the bad news first. She doesn’t even take the card from you. “Would you like to take a seat?”

You scrunch your eyes shut for a second with a little shake of your head, trying to manual reset your brain because clearly it’s still muddled. “Sorry, what? You want to talk about…?”

The mob of men in the room get hidden from your vision as Yejung strategically places herself between them and you. “Soulmates,” she says.

You look down at the black card, then back up at her again. “Soulmates.”

“Yes. Your soulmates. I was hoping to talk to you alone first.” She sends a pointed look at the men behind her. “But it’s not exactly easy to get these guys to lis—”

“Sorry.” You wave a hand in the air to get her to stop, unable to comprehend any of her words after— “Did you say my soulmates? As in… mates, multiple? Mates with an S at the end? I don’t think I heard you correctly.”

Remaining calm while your mind spins, Yejung nods. “I know this is a lot to take in.”

“Know what is a lot to take in?”

Yejung opens her mouth to answer, but a voice blurts out behind her, “We’re your soulmates!”

Maybe you haven’t known him long enough or talked to him that many times, but you recognize Jihoon’s voice, and something in your gut suddenly grows sharp. Not painful, but begging for you to feel it. Yejung shifts so your field of view is once again filled by men too pretty to be all in the same room. Jihoon’s standing there, fists clenched at his sides, out of breath for no discernable reason other than…

We’re your soulmates.

Seeing your hesitation, Jihoon huffs and tears a bandaid you never really noticed off the back of his right hand. Even before he completes the motion, you know what must be under the bandage. He holds his hand up, though, and the evidence is very near damning.

Next to him, Huijun smiles and lifts his arm, pointing to his own five lines with his opposite hand. 

Most of the guys behind them show you the same thing. Five lines on the smooth backs of their hands, near the base of the thumb. Dear lord, you don’t even know how many of them there are.

The angry one who pulled the man off of you earlier, at least, just looks lost, like he once had control and now has none. Relatable.

You stumble back a bit. Instinctively, you say, “Songbird?”

Though quite a few of the men seem to perk up at the nickname, only the one you already gave the moniker to truly reacts. Your soulmate — god, one of your soulmates? — looks up at you from the floor and answers, “Yeah?” before realizing he’s even doing it.

“Never mind,” you dismiss with a wave of your hand. “Ms Shin?”

“Yes?” She steps closer, a worried look on her face.

Jeonghan, too, moves toward you with a similar look on his face.

You try to take a steady breath and fail. “I think I’ll take that seat now.”

Swaying backward, your body falls onto the leather couch. 

You hear approximately ten panicked shouts as you go down.

prev ⭒ chapter seven (4.0k) ⭒ next

new chapters for atus are not on a schedule nor guaranteed. there is no taglist. thank you for reading!

[fuji-sen]

the 'evil imposter' just wants to be a baker!

Prologue: The Foodie turned Imposter?!

Part 9: Benny's Adventure Team! + Wolfhooks

[ part 8 ] || [ masterlist ] || [ part 10 ]

divider is made by @/saradika-graphics

"A shame I couldn't stay for long" you murmured, biting into the fluffy goodness that was mamon. It was another food that you learned from your Filipino Classmate, they had introduced it to you as a comfort food which was straight up facts ✨

You found yourself being able to easily slip out of the Ragnvindr estate, though the thought of not receiving your pay nearly made you hesitate. After all, how does one live without mora? the currency for everything in this place.

"I should visit the leylines later if I ever need money."

But then remembering how you were some sort of wanted mega criminal, you might not have many places to buy from. Right now you decided to head to wolvendom to harvest some wolfhooks as well as any other resources there. Since a lot of people were wary of the wolves, perhaps there are more natural resources there, laid untouched. At least, that's what you hope for.

Of course there is a chance to run into Razor. But you'll cross that bridge when you find it.

You turned to the map in your hands, given to you by Kaeya. You remembered your last moments with him before he had to distract Diluc.

"As much as I want to trust him. . I don't want to risk your safety. So for now you must leave, take my map I listed the locations where the knights are planning to patrol!" Kaeya said, taking your hand a forcing a map into your hold.

The man with deep blue hair placed both of his hands around yours, making it curl around the map securely. "Be safe [name]. Me or the traveler will try to find you when its safe but for now. ."

"Don't trust anyone carelessly."

You weren't stupid, despite the kindness showed to you by the hilichurls and the slime, despite Aether's honesty and Paimon's cheerfulness. . despite Adelinde and Kaeya giving you a chance. . despite all those kind people you cannot forget Jean. . Lisa or the knights, you could not forget the looks the Mondstadters had given you.

You know how precious trust is.

more so especially when your life is on the line.

Just because they were nice to you, doesn't mean the others would be too.

You closed the map, continuing your walk towards the Wolvendom, a bit more at ease when you saw that there would be no patrols in that area.

Wolvendom was different in-game, the forest was much larger, much thicker as it was filled with lots of trees much closer together, the canopy of leaves leaving abundant shade to protect you from the blazing sun. It had more resources that you could gather compared to the game as well.

You wiped the sweat off your face, your mask was untied, wrapped around one of your hand and kept away so you can breathe more easily. Finding Wolfhooks were easy, gathering them was not. You had to wince every now and then when the purple berries pricked you. Hence why you had to cover one hand with the mask to avoid any more injuries.

However you continued on, despite the irritation you managed to have enough wolfhooks for your journey, the berries also went straight to your inventory which was a nice touch and greatly boosted your quality of life.

Suddenly a branch had snapped and you turned to a bush that shook for a few moments, and from the shrubs a boy had emerged. A mop of ash-gray hair and scratches and scars that littered his much smaller form. .

Bennett.

Your hand gripped your bow, a part of you was ready to attack him and run, but remembering how he was simply a child made you stop, hesitating. Surely someone as kind and young as bennett. .

could you trust him?

"Ouch that hurts. ." he winced, still unaware of your presence as his gloved hand made its way to brush off the leaves and branches that was sprinkled around his hair, "Oh!"

His eyes finally made its way to you, and his hand fell limp on his side. You waited and observed how his eyes widened with recognition and surprise, would it morph to rage? or to hopefulness?

"You- you're the imposter!" a finger was thrust towards you.

"I have a name." You sighed, his eyes were still soft, there was no malice, at least. . none that you were aware of. "Have you come here in search of me?" you ask, finding it odd how formal you were being.

Bennett stammered, hand hovering near the handle of his blade. A beautiful skyward blade that glowed in his hands. . a sword you remembered equipping on him.

"Y-yes, you- it's a crime to impersonate the Creator!" he said, though despite the volume of his voice, you could still hear the hesitation and fear. .

he clearly didn't want to hurt you.

And so your heart ached for the young boy. "You are injured though. . why don't you try to kill me after I patch you up?" you offered with a pathetic attempt of a smile in hopes to assure him. "N-no!" he shook his head, you couldn't blame him. He'd probably be careless if he let someone branded as a criminal treat his scratches.

His stomach then grumbled and he flushed in embarrassment as he let you saw him in an even more vulnerable state. "Bennet." you frowned, the bow in you hands disappearing, "let me help you."

"I-"

"You're a kid. You're far too young to take another person's life."

"I'm an adventurer!" he argued as you walked closer to him, he still hesitated, even as you stood in front of him, vulnerable, he didn't unsheathe his blade to attack you.

"But you're no killer." you told him, and then you quickly acted. You grabbed his blade and put it in your inventory, effectively leaving him unarmed. "There" you smiled, yet he didn't feel scared.

Your smile was bright and warm, comforting not at all scary or threatening as he thought.

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦

Bennett didn't know how to feel about the current situation, he found himself inside a familiar hollowed trunk. One that he had visited with Razor, his other friend who was currently absent.

In his hand was a fluffy snack you, the imposter, had called a mammon.

Meanwhile, you, the object of nearly every person in Mondstadt's attention was kneeling beside him, wiping his legs clean, muttering something about having to disinfect it.

"You're nice. ." he muttered after a few silent minutes filled with observation on his part.

"Of course I am" you almost snorted, "I'm not heartless."

You pulled out an ointment, twisting the cap open as you smeared the contents on your fingers. The young adventurer shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable. "It's not poisoned or anything." You told him.

You showed him your hands which had scratches littering your skin, and then you proceeded to apply the ointment to yourself. It started to tingle, did that meant it was working?

"See? I didn't die." You told him, and only then did he let you apply the ointment you had gotten from the Samachurl. "Why do they want to kill you. .?" Bennett suddenly asked as you finished and stood up.

"You. . you don't seem like an imposter."

Shrugging you turned away "But that doesn't make me your Creator either. I'm simply me. ." "How can that be possible?"

"I'm human Bennett. When we are born, we do not get to chose the face we were born with, or the situation we are born in. . it's how we are similar. You didn't chose to be born with bad luck, nor did I chose to be born with this face." You gestured to him, then to yourself.

Bennett pondered your words carefully, it made sense. . but. . "then why does Jean and the knights want to kill you? they wouldn't target you if you didn't do anything bad!"

"But I didn't" your voice was like a plead, 'please believe me' he could hear that small voice. "I just came inside the city, registering as an adventurer when I was immediately taken to their headquarters! They didn't ask me anything! They didn't let me explain, or even told me why I was arrested!"

Your sudden outburst had to stop though, as you noticed multiple presence approaching. You turned to the entrance of the hollowed trunk you were in, multiple sharp predatorial eyes were pointed at you. .

Razor and his lupical family had found you.

Perhaps they noticed your unfamiliar scent, or maybe benneth's and the iron scent from his wounds.

! You jumped back when Razor pounced forward quickly closing in the distance, swinging his claymore at you. You stared down at the wolf-boy, who lowered his claymore once you were away from Bennett who stared between the two of you in shock.

'This has just gotten troublesome.' The entrance was now blocked by Razor and his family, the only other exit was the one that would lead you to the weekly boss battle area for Andrius. You took a step back, eyes still on Razor who silently observed you like a predator.

"You. ."

His family snarled, and quickly moved. But instead of attacking you, they stood between you and Razor. Razor clearly didn't expect their actions as his red eyes widened in surprise. "Lupical. ."

The wolves growled and bark, communicating something to Razor who's mouth closed and opened a few times like a fish out of water. What did his lupical say exactly?

The claymore in his hands had disappeared, as he looked to be scolded. "Follow me. ." He said, walking pass you and jumping down to Andrius' area. The pack of wolves followed, as they passed you their heads would bob, a gesture reminiscent of that of a respectful bow.

Confused you turned to Bennett who stood up, a serious expression on his face.

"What exactly did they say about me?!"*

"They said. . that uh. ." his brows furrowed, perhaps still digesting what the wolves had said. "The lord of Wolvendom asks an audience with the person who shares the face of the creator."

You gulp, heart sinking. Andrius or Boreas was to judge you then?

"Come on, I don't think it's anything bad." Bennett tried to reassure you with an attempt of a smile, one that mirrored the same one you had given him. He was trying to comfort you?

Sighing you palmed your face as you tried to calm down, "okay." you muttered over and over again "okayokayokay-"

"Okay."

Bennett's warm hand had wrapped around your wrist, "don't worry, I'll make sure it's not going to end badly. Trust me as an Adventurer!" "Oh?" you blinked "and here I thought you were here to kill me since I'm an imposter. ."

He laughed awkwardly, "Well. . after listening to you, I guess I decided to just trust you. A real imposter wouldn't care about someone like me anyways."

"You think I care about you?"

"Well you did give me that tasty snack and dressed my wounds, doesn't that mean you care about me? you could have easily killed or left me anyways after taking my sword. ."

Chuckling your hand glowed, bringing out his weapon and handing it back to him. "Thanks Bennett, here." The boy beamed at you, taking his weapon once again, "where did you get that weapon anyways?"

"Oh, I received this as a blessing from the creator!" he chirped.

You hummed, standing at the exit, eyes casted downwards as you took a deep breath. Seeing Razor and the wolves from before, you wondered how you were going to land safely. . 'well if I'm going to die to Boreas, I guess it doesn't matter now.'

"I see, the creator must really like you then." you smiled at Bennett before plunging down.

"She. ." Bennett's eyes widened, running to the edge of the trunk in panic only to sigh in relief. "huh. . she knew my name. I don't think I ever told her." he scratched the back of his head, before unfortunately a rock flew towards him, hitting him at the back and being the one last push needed.

And so like you, Bennett fell.

Taglist:

@fantasyhopperhea @rhoswen-drake @cchiiwinkle @aman3kkun @coffee-or-hot-cocoa @bunniotomia @esthelily

@earth-to-name @fandomfan-102 @kh1ffy @jiyeons-closet @dragontammerz / @mercy-not-merci @aryuunachigiri @randomnatics @alexx197197 @keirennyx @vianitry @game-savvy @laviniadraws @altumsomnum @ghostlysyntaxed @kangyeonie @resident-cryptid @floofeh-purpi @allmightycucumber @wolfiafuntime @ofalexis @jiaoqiuthefoxian @is-it-night-or-day @lilacoaks @brainemptynothoughts

*Bennett understands a bit about the wolves' communication based on his voiceline about Razor.

NOTICE!

I will now be closing the participation time, now we will be having a poll to find out what's the name of our pyro buddy! Originally it was supposed to be till the end of the prologue arc but I'm beginning to think it'll be awhile till this ends.

Sorry for the quality too, I like Bennett but since it's been awhile I think he and Razor came out as 'ooc' in this chapter.

LINK!

Fuji_Sen has suggested! Lava Cake or "Java" based on the food / coffee" Fuji_Sen has suggested! Monsieur Creme Brulee or "Creme" based on the food. @Fantasyhopperhea has suggested! Soleil or "Sol" @Cactus4226 has suggested! Ruru (Py-ro, ro -> ru -> ruru) @bunniotomia has suggested! Helios or "Hel" @airyravenmaid has suggested! Cinnamon or "Cinna" @kindofscenic has suggested! Pyrex from the glass or "Pyruru" @shyentsmissingink has suggested! Pyri or "Pyrico" @dragontammerz has suggested! “Pepperoni” or “Pepper”

[buckgasms]

Bucky flirting with some girl while bunny is talking with natasha about something and suddenly she gets the brilliant idea to copy what bucky does! Kidnap the bitch and make sure she knows not to touch what dosent belong to her! Bucky can't be mad because he set the example for you to follow :)

Ooh nonnie you are devious 😈 I love it!

But you see my thought is this. I don't think bunny would punish the other woman because you gotta be a girl's girl in a man's world right?

BUT

There's no issue with telling Bucky you did it anyway. Just to fuck with his head...

I mean you are pissed with her, even when she tells you that Bucky wasn't flirting with her, they were just talking about some customer who did a stupid thing and they were laughing about it.

You didn't believe that, but you were being generous, she had the sense to look apologetic and scared. And when you suggested she take the next few days off, she took the wad of cash you stole from Bucky with a smile and left the club for a week or so.

You were now perched on Bucky's desk while he paced around the room, in a state of absolute panic and rage because you wouldn't tell him what you'd done to her.

"Well..." You mumbled slowly, "all I can really remember is you smiling at her and making her laugh...."

He growls in frustration and grimaces at you.

"Oh! I might have pushed her off a bridge....Yeah that's right, I took her for a cute little walk and pushed her into the river..."

But then you tut and shake your head, letting out a giggle as he kicks a bin in frustration.

"Or maybe I dragged her by those cheap extensions all the way down to the little red room and did the things you do to all those nasty men you deal with?"

You casually pull a long blonde extension out of your pocket and twirl it around.

He stalks over and grips your shoulders, squeezing you tight, his face dead serious.

"Bunny, for the last fucking time. What did you do with her? I need to know..."

You look at him quizzically, hands gliding up his expensive shirt to massage his chest, heaving under his anger.

"Why? Do you miss her? Do you want her back to take care of you? You want her to be your little bunny?"

He squeezes his eyes shut and you think maybe his head might explode. Which would be a great shame. Finally he opens them, and his hands come to cup your cheeks.

"Bunny, you know I love you. Crazy about you in fact. You are actually the first girl I haven't... I don't want anyone else, I honestly couldn't handle anyone else. You are the biggest handful I've ever had to deal with..."

You giggle and grab his crotch in one hand whilst pulling him to kiss you.

"Same actually..."

He chuckles and leans his forehead on yours, sighing in defeat as you press more kisses to his cheeks and lips.

"Show it to me Bucky. Show me your big cock and maybe I'll tell you then?"

He backs away slowly and unbuckles his belt. You swing your legs in excitement as his zipper is dragged down.

"You're crazy, you know that Bun Bun?" He approaches slowly, his big hands stroking at his heavy cock. "This good enough bunny?"

He chuckles as you shake your head because he knows that would never be enough for his crazy bunny. He presses a kiss to your forehead before nudging you to lay back over his desk.

You sigh with satisfaction as you feel him pull your underwear down, leaving you bare and exposed to him. You tilt your head and watch him, moving your legs to sit comfortably on his shoulders. He presses a kiss to one of your ankles before sliding in, just a little.

"Bucky, if you don't fuck me I'll never tell you where she is... Don't play with me."

He rolls his eyes before thrusting in fully, groaning at how tight and wet you are. His face is a picture of rage and pure pleasure as he ruts into your soft heat.

"Fuck sake Bunny, never a dull moment huh?"

Your giggle mixes with a groan and you grab his hands, pulling him towards you to share a perfect kiss. His lips chase yours, teeth nipping as his hips roll faster.

"You really love me?" You whisper between kisses, wrapping your arms around his neck, gripping his back as you feel his muscles strain and tighten as he moves.

"I adore you Bunny, you're my everything. Even if you drive me crazy..."

You both giggle as he drives harder, kissing and biting at you as you chase him.

"Hmm Bucky, I'm gonna.. gonna come..." You whine as be growls in your ear.

"Come on Bunny, be my good girl..."

It doesn't take long before he drags you over the edge, a long moan falling from your lips as he growls in your ear from his own pleasure.

He gives you both a moment before pulling back slightly and more serious look on his face.

"So you gonna tell me now?"

You giggle and grab your phone, swiping this way and that before you let you an even harder laugh out as you show him the screen.

"I sent her on vacation, she's in Florida...and you paid for it..."

His scowl is back and your giggles become almost impossible to control, as he pulls back and buttons himself up.

"Bunny I swear to god...."

You sit up and grab his shirt, pulling him back to you.

"But if you flirt with anyone again," your face becomes as serious as his, "then I won't be so sensible next time."

[stone-stars]

Transcript:

[Bahumia theme fades out.] Murph: WEL-come back to Bahumia everybody! Jake, Emily, and Caldwell: Ba-HU-mia! Murph: I'm your dungeon master (laughing) Brian Murphy, joined by Jake Hurwitz-- [Clip cuts forward. Emily, Jake, and Caldwell are laughing.] Murph: Uh, sweet guys, uh, why don't we go ahead and do a little recap? Caldwell and Jake: Yes please. Emily, enthusiastically: Ok Murph! [Caldwell and Jake laugh.] Murph: This was-- you're bringing off-mic bits onto mic. [Emily laughs.] When we-- Caldwell: You're bridging the bit! Murph: Yeah. The reason I was-- Jake: Sorry about that, Murph! Murph: The reason I was laughing-- Emily: (laughing harder) Sorry about that, Murph! Murph: You-- We can't all talk over each other-- Caldwell: It's okay, Murphs! Murph: We all have to calm down (laughing) and let each other speak. Caldwell: Everyone let Murph speak! Murph: That has to happen! Jake: Go ahead, Murph! [Emily is still laughing. She laughs harder.] Murph: Ok-- Thanks guys. (laughing) I-- haven't described what you're doing. [The others laughing.] Right before we started everyone just kept being really polite, but in a way that was not letting me start the recording. Any time I said "we're about to-- let's get started" they would go "ok Murph!" "let's go Murph!" "ready to go Murph!" Emily: I remember that, Murph! Murph: Yeah. Jake: Yeah. Sorry about interrupting you, Murph! Murph: Well the people at home didn't remember it, cause they didn't know. We have to tell them what's going on. (laughing) We can't just say shit. Caldwell: We should do a recap before the recap, Murphs. [Emily laughs.] Murph: Yeah, this is the pre- (laughing) the pre-show recap of the stupid fucking bits you guys do. [The others laugh.] Jake: Well put, Murph! Murph: Yeah this is why I was laughing when I said my name. Emily: (cackles) Touché, Murph! Murph: Okay guys. Uh, let's go ahead and do the real recap. Caldwell, whispering: Sounds good Murph! [Emily and Jake laugh.] Murph: So last time, you guys began-- (laughs). You have to stop. You have to stop. Emily: That was-- Caldwell's one was really good at the end. Murph, over her: So last time, last time, you guys began in Ma Goblin's moving lab [clip fades out].

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 8

part 1 | part 7 | ao3

He finds himself on Cherry Drive by muscle memory alone. Quarter mile past Maple Street, take the third left, the second right; drive straight through the next stop sign and suddenly the Hagan house is coming into view around the bend, bathed in dim yellow light from a flickering street lamp. A 50s era ranch house, painted brick with a detached one-car garage, weeds sprouting through the crooked old stones of the front walkway and leaves scattered across the lawn in mushy browns and orange-reds.

It's not as nice as Steve's place is.

Was.

Whatever.

Steve blinks, shakes himself fully awake; feels a jolt of fear at the idea that he just drove here in some kind of fugue state because he doesn't know what he's doing here. Tommy left for college, and fuck Tommy, anyway.

He pulls up to the house. Slows the car to a crawl.

It's dark inside, all the lights turned off except for a single table lamp in the entryway window; shaped like a sea turtle, its belly full of blue-green light. Mrs. H. loves the sea.

He wonders if they're out of town or if they're just asleep.

The Hagans go to bed early, he remembers. He spent so many nights talking in a hush in Tommy's room; 8:45pm and they'd be lying side by side on the floor beside his bed, reading comic books or sports mags and whispering about nothing. Tommy'd always thank Steve for coming over because he knew his house was a little boring; he was the kid with old parents who went to bed early and kept the radio turned down and wouldn't let them have sugary snacks even on the weekends. Steve would always just knock their shoulders together and smile 'don't mention it' because he'd hang out with Tommy anywhere.

"Anywhere?" "Yeah, anywhere." "What about in a cave?" "Sure." "Under a bridge?" "Don't see why not." "In the belly of a whale?" "Now you're just being dumb." "Am not!" "Are, too." "Oh, yeah? Well- shut up!"

That was usually the part where they got in trouble for making noise, caught red-faced and laughing while they wrestled on the floor.

There's warmth in his chest at the memory, and that part, he expects.

But also...

Something about it makes heat flare in his gut, shameful and feverish as it flashes through his mind: the phantom press of Tommy above him as he pinned his shoulders down; the way the flush on his cheeks made Tommy's freckles pop; the breathless smile he gave, so close their noses almost brushed...

A light turns turns on in the Hagans' hall.

Steve hits the gas.

He drives for a long while, feeling like an asshole for burning through their precious gas money, but too— too something to fully care. He's alone on a highway with dark pastures blowing by, with the heat on and windows down, and he's circling back toward home when Bruce Springsteen starts to play, all croaky static over the spotty radio.

Born down in a dead man's town. The first kick I took was when I hit the ground.

Steve cranks it up and sings along. The song is cheesy, and he feels stupid, but he also feels free. Like there was a shackle around his throat and he didn't notice until it was gone. He shouts along to the chorus and then just shouts in general; long, guttural screams that feel like poison being purged. Tommy, his dad, the Russians, his mom. All of it, all of it spewing out of him into the cold night air.

He misses Carol suddenly. Her acidic attitude. The way it always ate through the worst of his sullen moods.

He can picture her now: perched on someone's lap in the crowded backseat, no seatbelt, manicured hand braced on the ceiling. She'd be smacking bubblegum and twirling a lock of her hair, and she'd roll her eyes at Steve's dramatics and ask whether he was done untwisting his panties yet. Steve would say something dumb and pervy in response, like, "Too busy dealing with girls' panties to focus on my own," and she'd roll her eyes harder and go, "God, you're fucking gross."

Carol's not here, though, so he just screams about her, too.

When he get back to Forest Hills his voice is hoarse. His body is tired; his soul is light. He's thinking, like: maybe he'll be okay. He'll channel his inner Claudia or Joyce and soldier on. Resilience, and all that shit.

He's almost smiling to himself when he turns into the park.

And then he sees the flashing lights.

There's an ambulance on his lot.

—

part 9

just gonna start tagging whoever commented the day before (if your settings will let me) bc i have the memory of a goldfish @a-little-unsteddie @slowandsteddie @pennyplainknits @thesuninyaface @hotluncheddie @messrs-weasley @pitrsattabhaadmeinjao @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @blackpanzy @disrespectedgoatman @i-have-three-feelings @sirsnacksalot @estrellami-1 @manda-panda-monium

[a-small-writer-in-a-big-world]

Reconciliation: knight!price x Princess!reader

It felt odd walking to the barracks in the middle of the night but you wanted to do things right this time.

Usually when you snuck out in the middle of the night you never told anyone or had anyone come with you. No one would let you go to the fields at such an hour and sometimes you needed to clear your mind outside the stone walls of your bedchamber.

There was a lot on your mind and after everything that happened yesterday, you didn't want to be alone.

You were silent as you snuck in to the barracks. You made sure to step around the other knights before you came to Sir John Price, who was deep in sleep.

You hesitated to wake him only for a moment, a strange desire to feel his warmth against your fingertips spurring you forward as you shook him gently.

Price awoke immediately but disoriented. It took him just a few moments to recognize you before he gave you an incredulous look, opening his mouth to say something before you quietly shushed him.

You scurried out of the barracks and waited for him at the door, being joined by him just a few moments later. You pointedly ignored the soft look of his tousled hair and the sleep still in his eyes.

"Why are you awake at this hour?" He asked almost too loudly for your liking.

You shushed him again and quickly told him to be quiet while you looked around to see if anyone heard. Once you realized it was safe you turned to him and gave him a serious look.

"I wanted to watch the stars." You whispered and he looked at you with disbelief. "We'll both be caught if you don't be quiet."

"You couldn't watch them from your window?" He groaned barely above a whisper and you rolled your eyes.

"I could've very well gone out by myself like all the other times-"

"Other times?"

You sighed heavily and began to make your way to the fields. You should've just gone on your own, you hadn't been attacked any of the other times so you shouldn't feel any different...yet having him with you made you feel safer.

It was strange, you went from not wanting him around to waking him up so he could be by your side.

"How many times?" He demanded but you shrugged.

"Do you think I count?" You said and he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"You'll be the death of me, your highness."

You made it out into the field and every step you took disturbed the fireflies that hide in the grass. Already you felt like you had a clearer mind as you sat down.

"Sit." You beckoned him beside you. "I don't have the patience for your hovering right now."

Price kept some space between the two of you as he sat down with a grunt. He said nothing else and soon it was just the night, you both, and the stars.

You were in deep thought. You couldn't quite believe that your mother had called off your marriage because you never expected the king to have lied to you and her. You didn't like him but you certainly never thought he'd try to pull your kingdom in a war you had no reason to be in just because he had no money.

If the information hadn't been found, you would've been married off and stuck in a war, your kingdom would've suffered just as much and you might've died, your knights might have died.

You know that your mother mainly did it for political reasons; there wasn't proper time to prepare for a war and it would look bad on her and you if you plunged the kingdom into war.

But you didn't know why Sir John Price had done it?

You weren't stupid, you knew the only way this information was found was because of him yet you didn't know if he had told your mother for the reason she had to break off the marriage or for something else.

You wanted it to be for a different reason.

"How's your arm?" Price kept his voice low but didn't whisper.

"It itches." You frowned when you placed you hand over the wrappings.

"Good. It's healing."

You turned to him and he raised an eyebrow. You hesitated for a moment when you remembered the way he hadn't even hesitate save you even after all of the hell you put him through. He had dressed your wound without protest, he even apologized when he thought he hurt you.

It confused you. How could a man who you thought hated you treat you in such a way?

"I didn't properly thank you for saving me." You said and his face fell.

"You don't have to-"

"I do. Who knows what would've happened if you hadn't shown up...so thank you."

Price blinked a few times and sucked in his lips. He nodded and looked away from you as he shifted in his spot, almost like he was uncertain.

"Of course, your highness."

You wished he'd say something else, you wished he'd tell you why he had been so quick and why he had done it without a second thought. You wished he'd tell you what he really thought, if maybe he felt that strange fuzziness in his chest the same way you did.

"Why did you break off my marriage?" You asked and he tensed up.

"As I said before it's my duty to protect you." He said and you couldn't help but feel disheartened.

"Is that all?"

You hoped that your disappointment wasn't noticeable especially when he looked at you with slight confusion.

Price went quiet and he sucked in his lips again. He looked deep in thought as if he had think about what he was going to say. When his eyes met yours they were softer with a strange look in them as he took a moment before he spoke.

"You wished to not marry him."

You blinked with surprise, you chest going warm as you stared at him incredulously. That's all it took? You saying no? You're honestly not sure if you believed it, especially when it was Sir John Price who had fulfilled your request.

No man who hated a woman would do such a thing.

"And I thought it was rather rash that the Queen have you married so swiftly without any proper precautions." He quickly added on but you didn't really catch it.

He broke off your marriage because you didn't want it.

"Oh." That was all you could say.

"If it was an overstep-"

"It wasn't...just surprising is all."

It did make things more complicated, your mother had told you that she will have to find someone else but the search had seemed to slow down just a little, which meant you would have more time figure out what you truly wanted.

You weren't sure what to do but you didn't have the energy to think about all of that right now. Instead, you'd rather focus on the man who sat next to you.

As much as it was annoying to have him follow you everywhere it could be worse and after him saving you, you thought it would be best if things changed.

"Do you think we could be friends?" You wondered and it was his turn to look at you wish disbelief.

It would an inappropriate friendship, one you knew your mother would frown upon but no one had to know. You had kept your hatred for each other a secret, a friendship would be the same.

"If that's what you want-" He said but you sent him a look.

"I asked what you think, what you want." You said firmly. "I won't have you pretending. If you don't think we could be friends or at least more polite with each other then forget I said anything."

Price scoffed, a small smile pulling at his lips before he shook his head.

"I think we could be." He said softly. "If you stop sneaking out without me."

"Then you should be ready for me to wake you up at times like this." You retorted and he sighed heavily.

"You run me around, what's lack of sleep on top of that?"

You rolled your eyes and laid back to look at the stars. You watched them twinkle and imagined a life where you didn't have to worry about the kingdom and the politics, you didn't have to worry about whether or not someone was trying to exploit you or not. A time where you could marry someone you loved.

Out here you could relax. Under the stars you were just yourself.

"Are you really going to complain about this?" You gestured to the sky.

"No." He said softly as he watched you. "I supposed I shouldn't."

A/N: just because they're friends doesn't mean they won't bicker it's their love language

Tags: @deadbranch @makayla-666 @glitterypirateduck @dumbbitchgalore @m0chac0ffee @dragonbe-writing @sleepyoriana @twismare @blush-haze @waiting-so-long @alilstressyandlotdepressy

[sanguineterrain]

hiii! can i request reader being a vigilante and also jason’s ex? they’re on the same mission/have to work together and reader gets injured or smn?

thank you so much! I love your writing!

thanks for requesting! this turned into a whole ass one shot 😭 hope you like ❤️

jason todd x gn!reader. tw: fighting, exes, physical violence, reader is captured but they're fine, jason is NOT over you (and he doesn't want to be), making up, fluffy ending. 2k words (lol)

****

The Cave is exactly how you remember. Foolishly, you thought maybe it would've rotted after you broke up with Jason.

That's certainly how you felt.

But no. It's the same, and the other Bats are the same. Dick and Tim are there, probably because you're the most familiar with them... after your ex, of course... and Barbara already pushed the envelope by contacting you.

Still, Gotham is your city too. And if the Bats need an extra set of hands to protect the city, then so be it.

"Hey, glad you could make it," Dick says warmly.

At times, you envy how easygoing he can be. Even though he can have a temper, Dick Grayson, for the most part, shakes hands like a politician. He doesn't burn bridges. He doesn't hold grudges, at least not publicly.

You, on the other hand, are perhaps too much like his younger brother: you absolutely hold grudges, and you don't let go easily.

"Hi, guys," you say, trying to be civil. "What's up?"

"So—"

The roar of a motorcycle pulling into the Cave cuts Tim off. Quick anger soars through you as Red Hood dismounts the bike. He takes off his helmet.

You haven't seen Jason in a year. Judging by his physique, the breakup did not take a toll on him. If anything, he seems bigger than you remember. Asshole.

You can pinpoint the moment that he finally sees you, and he stops in his tracks.

"Oh, boy," you hear Tim mumble.

Jason is silent. You cross your arms, keeping your face neutral.

"I didn't know you worked with the Bats, Hood. Thought you flew solo."

Jason is quiet for another moment. Then he speaks.

"Things change."

"Clearly."

"Anyway!" Dick says, clapping his hands. "Pretty straightforward mission. Drugs, warehouse, bad guys, et cetera. We have to clear out these shipments tomorrow night, or they'll hit the streets, and we'll be too late. Robin and I will take Gotham Heights. Signal, Black Bat, and Red Robin will take downtown. And, um, you two can clear out the Bowery."

"Hood can handle the Bowery himself," you say. "Gimme another section."

Jason scoffs. You glance at him.

"Something funny?" you ask, teeth grit.

"Once again, you're biting off more than you can chew," he says, hands on his waist. "It's stupid and you're gonna get yourself into trouble. Just clear out the Bowery with me. Plenty of room for both of us."

"I don't know if you know this, but I actually do pretty okay on my own. Just because you're one of Batman's special little prodigies doesn't mean the rest of us can't get by."

You glance at the others. "No offense."

"None taken," Tim says. "You're far better adjusted than us, no contest."

Jason rolls his eyes. "C'mon. You don't have anything to prove to us. We know you're capable, but these guys are rough. We team up for safety."

"Oh, now you care about being a part of a team?" you snap. "You didn't give a shit when it was me asking—no, begging you and Roy to help me with the League mission in Sydney."

Jason's jaw tenses. "That was different."

"Guys, I think we should—"

"Why? Because you only get your hands dirty locally?" you ask, shaking with anger.

"Because if I had gotten involved, it would've put a target on your back," Jason says icily. "You would've been killed. You were nowhere near ready to take on the League. I wouldn't have been able to protect you and fight them."

"You know, right there, you sounded just like Bruce. Did you take tips from him?"

Silence. Jason's boiling with anger, you can tell.

"Bruce wouldn't have had the sense to stop you from going," he finally says, tone even. "He's not too good at that."

"Bruce would've cared enough to back me up. And he wouldn't have driven a wedge between me and my team."

It's just words; there's no way to know whether Batman would've actually backed you up. Probably not, considering his history. But it hurts Jason, and you take the moment to whirl around to look at Dick and Tim, who are wildly uncomfortable. Dick looks sad.

"It's better to team up," Dick says gently.

You bristle. "Whatever. I'll see you tomorrow."

You stalk out of the Cave.

Stupid fucking exes. Stupid fucking vigilantes.

****

"Okay, just to make things clear..."

"In and out. Report at the Cave," you say, tightening your equipment. "I got it, Nightwing. Over and out."

You silence your comm before he can respond. You're tired of their voices.

Thankfully, Jason has taken the hint and is on the opposite end of the Bowery. Which means you can slip away in peace.

You did this as a favor for Barbara, but now you're seriously rethinking getting reinvolved with the Bats. It never ends well.

The warehouses on the East End of Old Gotham are no problem. You clear out five within an hour. You check the comm briefly. It's pretty much silent, so you turn it off and keep going.

The West End, however, is a little harder.

Because you're only one person, someone figures out your pattern. You're clobbered over the head before you can drop in through the roof.

This is the last time you do a favor for anybody in Gotham.

****

You wake up tied to a chair. Your head pounds, and your lip is bloody. Not good.

"—way the Bat will show. They're a nobody vigilante."

"Tony, you're a fuckin' idiot if you think Batman doesn't know exactly what the fuck goes on in this city. Swear to God, I shoulda left you with Mom in Boise. Nothing but cotton in your head."

"Oh, fuck off, Al, you'd still be droolin' on your couch crying over Marie if I hadn't come back to Jersey."

"You little—"

"Very sorry to interrupt this family spat," you say. "But I'm on a tight schedule here, so if you could just speed things up..."

"Smartass, huh?" Al asks, waving a gun. "I wouldn't be so bold tied to a chair, toots."

"Toots? Are you a hundred years old?"

Tony snickers. Al glares at him and stalks over to you. He doesn't hesitate before whacking you upside the head with his gun. Your ears ring, and you hunch forward.

"Watch your mouth," he growls, and you're in too much pain to come up with a response to that.

Presently, you realize that your earbud is out of your ear. Probably destroyed. You have no other way of sending a distress signal. By the time you miss the report at the Cave, it'll be too late.

You were a failure then, and you're a failure now. Even your ex-boyfriend took pity on you.

Jason. God, look at how you'd left things. How his face had fallen when you'd called him Bruce. He used to love Bruce, and you know exactly what happened that changed that. And you used it against him.

Now you're facing the consequences. This is your own damn fault.

"Load everything into the truck," Al says into a walkie. "Then move out. Tell the others the same."

There's a crackled reply. Then shouting. Then silence.

You look up in surprise. Al curses and points at you.

"Stay here and watch them," he orders Tony.

"But Al, what if Batman comes here?"

"That's what guns are for, you freakin' idiot!"

You snort. As if guns could stop any of them, much less Batman.

But whatever. These guys probably didn't go into selling drugs because of their big IQs.

Tony and five other men stay to guard you. You work on trying to slip out of the handcuffs and rope.

Bang!

The first gunshot hits one goon in the leg. A second gets hit in the shoulder. Hip. Foot. Opposite leg.

Red Hood steps out of the shadows, then. Tony immediately looks sick.

"H-Hood? This ain't your territory, what're you—"

"You've got something of mine, Tony," Jason says, voice smooth and dangerous.

Tony decides that, fuck his brother, he's getting out of here alive, and runs. Jason doesn't pay him any mind, instead walking to you.

He cuts the ropes first, then picks the handcuffs. Jason roughly rubs your wrists and ankles, pushing blood back into your extremities.

"What're you doing?" you ask. "Go get him. He's meeting his brother downtown."

You can't see Jason's expression through the helmet, but if looks could kill...

"Hood—"

"What. The hell. Is wrong with you."

You scowl. "I didn't come here for a fucking lecture."

"Well, you're gonna get one. This wasn't the plan. And you turned off your comm? Are you trying to get yourself killed? You have a death wish or something?"

"It didn't make sense to put both of us in the Bowery—"

"You could've died tonight!" Jason yells.

"And wouldn't you have liked that!" you snap back. "Proves the fact that I'm a failure quite nicely."

Jason tears off his helmet. His eyes are wide with anger and... guilt. Helplessness.

He's afraid.

"Don't you fucking say that," he says lowly. "I'd rather die again than find your body."

"What the fuck do you care?" you snarl. "I'm not your responsibility, remember? What does it matter if I dropped off the face of the earth?"

"Because I still love you!"

All of your anger drains.

Your body buzzes like it wants to feel him again. Traitor.

"That would kill me," Jason finishes quietly. "And I wouldn't come back from that death."

Your mouth feels like you swallowed chalk.

"You love me?" you whisper.

"You're hard to get over," he says. "Still haven't managed it."

"But... you said our breakup was for the best."

Jason sighs. His anger fades. "It was. I was a jackass. I let my shit with Bruce and the Pit and everything get in the way of what was important. Which is you."

"You were good to me, Jay," you say. "And we were okay. Till... till Sydney."

Jason winces. "I should've handled it better. And I should've treated you better."

"You're a good man, Jason. I don't regret my relationship with you. I regret it ending."

He looks at you. His face is twisted in pain.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you," he says. "And you're not a failure. Not even close."

You scoff, your eyes wet. "Aren't I? Couldn't even handle a simple drug bust."

"No, you're not. Nothing about what we do is simple, even if we're gaslit into thinking so. In this life, you need someone to watch your back. Even B doesn't work alone."

You try to stand, suddenly feeling like a raw nerve. You stand up too fast, though, and blood rushes to your head. You might also be mildly concussed.

Jason immediately slips an arm around your waist as you teeter forward and puts you upright.

"Easy, sweetheart," he says, and doesn't let go until you're steady.

You raise a brow. Jason grimaces.

"Sorry. Force a' habit."

You scoff, suddenly shy. "Habit, huh? Still think of me as your sweetheart?"

"Never stopped."

You roll your eyes, but it's fond now. "Anybody ever tell you you don't know how to move on?"

"Mm. I've heard it once or twice."

Your lips tingle. You've missed kissing him.

"I'm sorry I compared you to Bruce," you say. "You're nothing like him."

Jason shrugs. "Some of me is exactly like him. The fact that I didn't put a bullet in anybody's brain even though they kidnapped you isn't me at all. But I forgive you. And I'm sorry I hurt you. I didn't know the Sydney mission had festered so much."

"It's okay, Jay. You're right, I wasn't ready to take down the League or kill anybody. I'm grateful you stopped me."

Jason takes a careful step forward, eyes darting to your lips. You smirk.

"Hot for communication, are we?" you ask.

"Oh," he says, suddenly reticent. "Sorry. Too forward. Shit. I've... I've just missed you so much. I thought maybe you—that there was a vibe—but if there isn't, then—"

You take the last step and kiss him, and your lips buzz in satisfaction. Jason kisses back just as eagerly, hands flying to your waist and squeezing. But his hands roam, holding and cupping like he's been starved for the last year.

"I missed you too, Jaybird," you say between kisses.

[bratdotcom]

LEON KENNEDY'S DUMB FLIP PHONE

( Older!Leon Kennedy x GN!reader || no specific Leon specified but definitely older than re2/re4 era !! Him n' his stupid flip phone ♡ )

“You need glasses.” You comment over his shoulder, watching as Leon’s eyes narrow to the point where they're squinting, his tired blues stay trained on his phone, quickly thumbing the keypad to switch between letters as he typed. “No I don't, they make me look old.” He says back, angling the screen of his flip phone, pure concentration on his face as he speaks. You smile a bit as you watch him, the bridge of his nose peeking through his bangs. “You need contacts then,” you correct, leaning a bit closer to see what he's doing. 

“Don't look. And I don't  need contacts either.” Leon shields the screen of his phone away from you, keeping it close to his chest. “Why?” Despite his words, you lean closer to see what he is typing. You can't see much, besides the bluish glare of his screen.

At least he wasn't using that damn Nokia anymore. You could barely even see the screen on that thing. It was as large as his palm, seeing him pad the numbers on that thing to call Chris was its own form of entertainment. An extreme sport, even. How the hell did his fingers not cramp up from texting you during his missions?

“You can't look yet.” Leon says with a giddiness in his tone, a somewhat rare thing to see especially after coming home from a long, tiring day at work. The apples of his cheeks perk up as he smiles to himself, using the keypad on his phone to scroll through…something. You still didn't know what the hell he was talking about. 

You see the giddy look on his face, the way his blues shone like he was finding something for the first time. Leon's had his phone as long as you could remember giving it to him. Which left you with more questions than answers. Your weight shifts as you rest your back against the couch cushions, arms folded against your chest as you wait. 

And waited. 

And waited. 

And waited. 

Until finally Leon shows you what he was trying to hide from you for so long. A long list of kaomojis. The blond seemed proud of himself, showing off the brightening bluish glare of his screen with a big, proud smile on his face. “What do you think?” He asks with the same giddiness in his tone from earlier. Your eyes scan over the various emoticons, cats, dogs, even bunnies. You subconsciously smile to yourself, having no idea that his phone even had the capabilities to do something as cute as this. “It’s cute, Leon.” you say, smiling a bit more as he scrolls through a roulette of kaomojis, some of them starred. Who knew, the Leon Scott Kennedy loved using silly little cats and smiley faces in his texts. What a man. Your man. 

 “Bet your phone can’t do this.” he teases, waving his phone screen in front of you. As if having a flip phone in the age of touch screens was some sort of flex. Even though there were countless apps that could do what his phone could, none of them could compare to the smile on the blond’s face as he showed you his little catalog of silly emoticons. You let the man have his fun, nodding along as you lean in to kiss his cheek. “Yeah, it can’t.” you say in reply.

[myhamartiaishubris]

What's happening in China right now?

Huge huge huge disclaimer: I'm not a journalist or any kind of expert, but I want to talk about this.

China's been having a pretty politicized Covid policy that involves locking people inside their houses and a whole host of other things. On October 13, a giant banner was hung on Beijing's Sitong bridge criticizing the CCP's Covid policy, Xi Jingping's cult of personality, and the authoritarian regime as a whole. This, for a nation that had epitomized BF Skinner's learned helplessness model for 30 years, was huge.

More recently, China's Covid policy killed 10 people in Xinjiang by not letting firefighters in and not letting residents out. Now, students in Shanghai and Beijing are marching the streets with a blank page as their symbol in defiance of China's stringent censorship. People are even comparing this to the 1989 Tiananmen Square march.

Why I have hope

If you're not familiar with Chinese culture, it might not be hitting you just how huge this is. Students from places like Qinghua and Beida—essentially China's Ivy League—are leading this protest. This is the nation that has gotten used to tags on Weibo getting censored within hours of them going viral. This is the nation that is called “真怕死，真听话” (really afraid of dying, really obedient). But even a cornered rabbit has teeth, and the people of China are not rabbits. There is very real hope of change.

Why I'm afraid

This has happened before. 1989, Tiananmen Square. It was also students, 30 years ago. What we call the Tiananmen Square Massacre, they called the Tiananmen Square Clearing. Actually, they call it nothing at all. Because schools don't teach about it. No one talks about it. Hell, barely anyone outside of Beijing even knew about the Sitong Bridge incident. The people in China aren't stupid—but they are kept deliberately ignorant. And that's why—

Be loud

Here is one thing I am asking of you, even—no, especially—if you have no connection to China. I am afraid to be loud, because I have family in China. And the CCP already has a history of returning its people's violence tenfold. So if you have no stake in the game—be loud. Please. Let them know the whole world is watching. I know Twitter's a shitshow, but make them listen. Make them see that, if they pull out the tanks again, we will see, and we will remember. Make them afraid.

History isn't a circle, but a spiral—it repeats and repeats, but each time it tips a little further until eventually, something breaks.

EDIT 31/12/2022: As of recently (again, not a historian or journalist), China opened up restrictions all at once and now suddenly everyone has COVID. Also none of the pharmacies have fever medicine. Idk smells a little like reprisals to me.

[gojos-thot-patrol]

Now Loading...

A short drabble in which Sukuna grapples with the fact he's going to be a dad

Sukuna had never wanted to be a dad. Why would he have any desire for that? A ball of snot and shit that rolled around on the floor and insisted on getting into everything? No thank you. He had other far better things to worry about. A child was out of the question.

So, it's really no surprise that you kept your pregnancy secret from him for so long. You may have been his favorite of the concubines, but you didn't think his favoritism extended that far. You'd seen other girls slaughtered for being cursed with a child, and were trying to avoid that fate for as long as possible. You couldn't avoid Sukuna though, not if you wanted to hold your spot as favorite. And that spot was the only chance you had of surviving this whole ordeal.

Sukuna wasn't an idiot, much to your dismay, and was very familiar with your body. The moment you started to show, he knew. And the resulting temper tantrum was nothing short of horrific. 

“And just how long were you planning on keeping this from me?!" He yelled so loud you could feel your soul shake. Tears streamed freely down your face as you tried to make yourself seem small.

"I don't know-" you confessed. 

"You don't know?!" He snapped, "you don't fucking know?! Do you think im stupid Y/n? Is that it? Did you think I wouldn't notice you were fucking pregnant?!" He punctuated his sentence with a punch to the wall, making what felt like the whole structure shake. 

"I'm sorry My Lord." You knew better than to try to defend yourself in this situation. Sometimes it was safe to push back against Sukuna. Sometimes he liked to play brat tamer, and remind you of your place in fun ways. Now was not one of those times. To challenge him now would be to meet whatever God it was you worshiped, or lack thereof. 

"You're sorry," He sneered, "you're so sorry, like that fucking fixes anything! Why wouldn't you tell me the moment you knew?!"

"I didn't want to upset you."

"You fucked that up when you got pregnant, whore." He scoffed, pinching the bridge of his nose and looking away in disgust. "Abhorrent girl, bringing a disgusting creature into my temple. Get out my sight until I can decide what to do with you."

You didn't need to be told twice. You rushed out of his throne room and back into the concubines quarters, just thankful to have your life. All in all, he took the news surprisingly well and it went better than you thought. You held your stomach as you worried about what your Lord would have done with your baby. With his baby. But, for now, you had survived the most dangerous part of all of this. Now you really just felt like you needed a nap.

Sukuna avoided you for weeks after that. It was harder than you thought to be on the other side of the avoidance game. You didn't realize how much you had grown to appreciate Sukuna’s attention until it was gone. You wondered what the hell he was up to, especially considering none of the other girls had been "blessed" with his attention either. 

He was too busy battling with his own internal demons. The part of him that wanted you dead for the creature you were brining into his temple- and the part of him that wondered what a baby from the two of you would look like. Would they have his cursed techniques? Would they have your eyes? This was the part of himself that he hated the fucking most. 

He was a ruthless warlord, he had no time for love or children or a family. And he definitely didn't have it in him to admit he'd grown soft for a fucking concubine of all things. How fucking pathetic of him. The only way he could rationalize any of this was to tell himself it was a for an heir. He wasn't going to live forever after all, might as well take this opportunity. Still, was really going to let a fucking whore mother his heir? There was only really one thing he could do. 

You still remember the ice in your veins as you realized all of the concubines had been gathered in the court yard for an execution. It made sense, he hadn't been with any of you for a month now- and for the other girls quadruple that. You had all just become extra mouths to feed. 

So then why weren't you down there with the rest of them? There was no hiding your swollen stomach now, if any of the concubines stood to be killed- it was you. But you had been tucked away safe from the executions in Ryomens sleeping quarters. Why? 

The answer came pretty quick as he joined you in his room. His face was unreadable, which chilled you more than any blizzard could have hoped for. Ryomen had always worn his emotions on his face, and you had always been able to read him as if he were a well loved book. This was out of your comfort zone. You didn't like this.

"I spoke to your father." He finally said.

"My father's alive?!" You gasped 

"Yeah, I was shocked too." He huffed, taking your hands in his. "You're to be my wife." He said rather bluntly as he looked into your eyes. There was no room for negotiation here, Sukuna made that clear. Despite yourself, you felt a wave of excitement surge through your body.

"I am?!" You asked, smilingly like a fool. He gave a rare, gentle smile back. And that's when you finally saw the softness in his eyes that was only reserved for you. 

"You are." He confirmed, "under the condition that you can birth me a healthy heir, that is." He said, placing an uncharacteristically gentle hand on your stomach. You knew without him having to say it that this was his best attempt at an apology. The future king of curses could never bring himself to say the words 'I'm sorry' or 'I was wrong.'  But, he could lovingly take you in his arms, and hope you got the message.

Ryomen was unnaturally tender in the days leading up to you giving birth. He had all of the best doctors on standby, and refused to leave your side. Anyone that so much as breathed wrong in your vicinity would have hell to pay. He didn't know what the fuck had gotten into him. All he knew was that as your stomach got heavier, his need to protect you and the life growing in you got more intense. Like some animalistic part of his brain knew a part of him was inside you, and to protect you was to protect himself. At least, that was how he rationalized it.

The day you gave birth he was a fucking mess. It killed him to listen to your screams of pain and be unable to do anything to help. All he could do was let you break his hand with your death grip, and reassure you you were doing amazing. Rare moments of his praise lost in the sounds of an agonizing labor. He didn't expect the relief that washed over him when he first heard his son cry, a sound he thought was going to be horrifically annoying some how sounding like music to his ears.

"Y/n, can you hear him?" He asked, mostly to make sure you were still alive. 

"Sadly." You were not as enthused by baby screaming as Ryomen was. You were decently pissed off when, after being cleaned and checked over, the baby was given to Ryomen instead of you. You were the one that carried that bitch for nine months, and had just spent hours to deliver him, you should get to hold him first!!

All of that melted away when you saw the look in your husband's eyes as he stared down at his new child. You had never seen Ryomens eyes twinkle, but they were absolutely sparkling now. It even took him off guard just how deeply he fell in love with the baby the moment they touched. Flesh of his flesh, blood of his blood, he was holding his entire future in his arms. His chest felt like it was going to implode from how tight it was, and- holy shit, was he holding back tears?!

"He's beautiful." Ryomen finally choked out.

"He looks just like you." You hummed. He chuckled and shook his head.

"No, not at all. He's too good to look anything like me. He's all you." You shook your own head at the blatant lie. That kid was carved from the exact same marble Ryomen was, but you had no energy to argue. 

Soft cries started to bubble up from baby boy as he stirred. Instinctively, you reached out for your son. It was almost reluctantly that Ryomen handed him over to you. You smiled as you pressed your newborn to your chest to feed him, finally getting a good look at the life you brought into this world. 

"Thought of any names?" You asked your husband. Ryomen paled a bit. He really hadn't. 

"None worthy of him." Technically it wasn't a lie. You chuckled softly. You expected such an answer. 

"What about Ryuu?" You asked, looking up at Ryomen.

"Ryuu?" He asked, mulling the name over. The name meant Dragon. It was strong, and noble. He could definitely see Ryuu Sukuna leading his armies into battle one day. He smiled and nodded. "I like it. Ryuu it is."

[gremlin-girly]

Flufftober Day 11

@flufftober

Prompt(s): Ingredients, potions, spells

Pairing: sick!Loki x gn!reader

Tags/warnings: Loki (he's a warning), descriptions of cold/flu symptoms, gn!reader, feverish confessions (but it's sweet I promise), mutual pining

Summary: Loki gets sick and reader takes care of him :)

Word count: 2.3k

A/N: I thought of this when I was sick myself haha. Most of these remedies are what I use when I'm ill and they work a treat. And for a special treat for you dear reader, here's the Roasted Garlic and Potato Recipe I use (minus the nutritional yeast - and I use single cream not vegan).

Also, don't know why I keep writing stuff that's mostly 2k? Maybe I'm a glutton for punishment because I realise towards the end that I'm not writing a novel? Who knows. Enjoy! - Love, Grem x

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It started with sniffles.

You’d raised your eyebrows at Loki when he sniffed softly, but frequently, the warning signs of the impending flu clear to only you. Somehow, the irony of a frost giant having a cold wasn’t lost on you either.

“Are you feeling alright?” You asked when Thor was out of earshot. If one thing would put Loki on edge it would be his adoring brother fretting over him.

Loki sniffed again and cleared his throat. “I’m fine.”

His usually smooth voice was gravelly and hoarse, another sign that he was most definitely not fine. You frown softly. You don’t want to push him; you’d gradually worked up a friendly bond with the God of Mischief, at least you thought you had, and you didn’t want to blow it all up. Still, your eyes rake over Loki’s face worriedly, noting the redness around his nose and the missing mischievious glimmer in Loki’s bleary eyes.

Loki narrows his eyes at you, sensing your worry and prickling with defiance. “What?”

“Nothing.” You squeak, snapping your head back to the papers you’d been reading. Maybe this was how ill he’d get he was a god after all. Yet you had a nagging feeling that it would get worse.

Shuffling your papers together, mind made up, you begin to rise to your feet. You can feel Loki’s gaze on you as you pack your bag and try to ignore it, trying to hurry as much as possible.

“I need to run some errands,” you tell him hoisting your bag onto your shoulder. You look over and give him a gentle smile. “You know where to find me if you need anything.”

Loki huffs in response, clearly believing that he wouldn’t need a mere mortal’s help for anything. You head to the door, waving at Loki before you step through the threshold. Once you’re out of sight, you walk at a breakneck pace to the nearest convince store to do some last minute shopping for the incoming storm you predict.

The following morning, Loki can’t breathe.

His sniffles became worse and  no amount of healing spells made a dent. The headache he thought was Thor, turned out to be a real headache and worst of all, he was hot all over. The burning sensation rolled over him in waves, leaving him sweaty and uncomfortable. He could barely sleep with the stuffy humidity of his body and he thought he may die. We’re frost giants meant to be so hot?

Loki could barely keep his eyes open. He hadn’t felt this ill since he was a child. His heart constricted as he remembered his mother, Freya, fussing over him and caring for him in a pathetic snotty state as a child. She made sure he was cared for, spoiled and well-fed. Tears stung at his eyes in the dark room and he cursed softly, the pain in his sinuses worsening as the threat of tears triggered a new onslaught of snot to build painfully in the bridge of his nose.

The door to his room creeper open, golden light spilling in making him squint angrily. Was it not enough that he was sick with a human affliction, but to be assaulted with bright lights too? But then your head peeked in, and Loki’s breathing hitched – causing him to cough violently into his covers.

“Loki? You okay?” you ask, knowing it’s a stupid question. “Can I come in?”

“I’m fine,” He croaks, turning onto his side. God’s, how embarassing. “Just a bit under the weather.”

You enter his room, tentatively stepping towards the bed and kneeling before him. Loki barely registers your presence, his green eyes looking up at you and struggling to stay open. Any other time he would have equipped about you finally knowing your place before a god, but he’s too tired, too sick, to care. His eyes flutter and he sighs with content when he feels a cool palm press on his sweaty forehead. He leans meekly into your palm and looks up into your worried fface.Your palm is soft and soothes his aching body better than any of the healing spells he’d tried.

And Its probably the fever, but you look ethereal. Loki smiles at you, a dazed smile, but a smile nonetheless. No sneer, no smirk, a genuine smile.   

“You’re burning up,” you say, voice laced with concern. You ignore they way your heart skips as he smiles at you, brushing it away as delirium. You go to move your hand, but Loki’s face follows, chasing the cool calm your palm offers. You sigh a little. Your gut feeling had been right; he is worse. You were glad to have gone to the store to get the ingredients for remedies you knew would help ease the symptoms and speed up recovery.   “Stay here, I won’t be long.”

Loki humphs, which turns into a wracking cough. You hastily remove yourself and head to the common area of the tower. You’d already prepared food the night before so setting up a large tray with an assortment foods was quick.  You pulled out your pre-made bowl of roasted garlic and potato soup and stuff it into the microwave whilst the kettle boils, slicing rounds of lemon, orange and ginger and adding them to a large mug  with honey.  You breathe in the aromatics smells of citrus and garlic melded together, wondering if Loki would heal quicker because he’s a god, or if he'd be defeated by the common cold.

When the microwave dings, interrupting your thoughts, you remove the bowl of soup giving it a quick stir before setting it on the tray with the  rest of the cold-beating snacks you’d bought the day before. You look down at the tray with a sheepish smile. Maybe you had gone overboard; cold and flu tablets, a box of tissues,  homemade soup, bread, honey-and-lemon drink.... and you had isotonic drinks to help with fluid retention.

Yeah.

You had gone overboard.

You carry the tray precariously back to Loki’s room. Pushing the door with your foot, you re-enter the dark room.

“I’m back.” You say into the darkness, waiting for your eyes to adjust. You place the tray beside his bed, and turn on his bedside lamp.

“Hng?”

“Here, let me help you sit up.” Loki meekly swats you away, but he’s too weak to prop himself up without assistance, and begrudgingly concedes to allow you to help him. Your arms wrap around is chest, slotting under his shoulder to help shimmy him upwards before fluffing a pillow behind his head. Loki is frowning slightly, and if you weren’t so concerned about his health, you’d notice he was blushing.

“I’ve brought you some food. You need to eat before you take any medicine.” You give him a soft smile. “And I brought tissues.”

“Hmph.” Loki huffs, glancing to the tray you’d set down. His chest tightens when he sees everything you’ve brought. You must have planned this. Maybe you cursed him somehow?

“Did you... put a spell on me?:

“What? No. Loki you know I can’t use magic.” You chuckle at the absurdity of his question and pick up the bowl of soup. On autopilot you scoop some onto the spoon and guide it to his lips. Loki leans forward slightly, eyeing you suspiciously, but opens his mouth to accept your offering. He can’t taste anything, but as soon as the creamy texture hits his tongue his stomach growls. He hadn’t realised how hungry he was.  He weakly reaches for the bowl and spoon, which you gladly hand to him, and forces himself to eat slowly. Loki hums with delight as he eats , the warm soup soothing his throat and filling his stomach. Whatever you had made was making him feel better already. He wished he could taste it and was overcome with that same fluttery feeling his his chest whenever you were around.

His cedar green eyes rise over the spoon to meet yours and in a quiet voice he mumbles, “Thank you.”

You give him another smile. “No problem. Happy to help.”

The feeling in Loki’s chest increased, tightening almost uncomfortably. Your presence had already helped with the fever, now the hunger. You were slowly but surely making him better just by being near him. Being your silly, idiotic, caring, kind human self.

“You don’t have to.” He thickly after another spoonful. His eyes are downcast, almost ashamed. He hadn’t made it easy to be befriended by you, but you had been patient with him and accepted him as part of the team without so much as a second thought. Over time, Loki had developed a liking to you and he hated that. Feelings for a human? No. Not Loki. He just favoured you above the rest. With your beautiful smile you always gave him and the way your eyes twinkled when he’d get one over on Tony or Thor, even if you were reprimanding him or shaking your head. And of course, the way you made an effort to speak with him everyday; even if it was a quick hello. Treating him with a kindness that no one else offered.

“I know. I want to.” You say firmly. “I can leave you be, obviously, but you just need to call me and I’ll get you what you need.”

You push some of his unruly hair out of his face whilst he eats and his eyes flutter closed briefly. Your heart warms at the sight. You were infatuated with the God who was a black cat personified. Handsome wasn’t even a befitting word for Loki but it was the best you could come up with at short notice. His eyes were so green you wondered if emeralds would be jealous of the hue and you always found yourself enraptured by them. Too bad you were just a human.

Loki considers your words carefully, a wave of heat creeping up his neck that had nothing to do with the fever. Selfishly, he didn’t want you to leave. In fact, he wanted you to stay so badly it made his stomach churn with excitement but he was a god  and the whole thing was supposed to be beneath him-

“Please stay.” Loki whispers, ignoring pestering thoughts. He’d worry about consequences later, as usual. He was too tired to argue. You only nod in response, but your body sings with happiness.

Once Loki has finished eating you clear away the bowl and hand him two flu tablets and the mug of citrusy goodness. Loki’s large hands envelop the mug entirely whilst he sips, humming again at the soothing feeling that you and your food bring him.

“What is this potion?” He asks, sinking further back into his pillows.

“it’s lemon and honey, with ginger and orange.” You lean back onto your palms, watching him like a hawk. “It’s hardly a potion.”

Loki humphs quietly, not quite believing you, but continues to drink it. It’s not long before he’s drifting to sleep, the fullness of eating and the comfort you bring quelling the sickness that wracks his body. You gently pry the half drunk mug from his hands. Loki can barely keep his head up, leaning onto your shoulder as his eyelids fighting to stay open but his sleepy sighs are winning the battle.

He hums quietly and murmurs something you can’t quite make out. When you ask him to repeat himself he obliged, but remains ever so haughty about the fact you didn’t hear his incoherent mumblings.

“I said,” He huffs. “You are my favourite.”

“Favourite?” You chuckle. “Is it hard to be your favourite?”

Loki frowns slightly and cuddles closer. You smell nice and you’re warm. Enrapturingly so.

“Yes – but you. You. You’re different.”

“Oh?” for a moment you feel smug, until he continues.

“Infuriating.”

“Oh.” You roll your eyes to yourself. That one was on you.

“Captivating.” Loki’ tone is wistful, teetering on feverishly dream-like, but you perk up nonetheless. “Beautiful.”

“Oh...”

You look down at his form lying against your shoulder. He looks so different now, vulnerable, a cocoon of his usual self and it makes your heart melt. You were sweet on him and the feverish confessions were making your heart do somersaults.

“Make me feel so... nice and fuzzy,” he huffs out gently, slumping more and more against you. “You’ve cursed me.”

You bite your lip, trying to stifle a flustered giggle. Your cheeks are bright and so hot that you worry you may catch Loki’s cold. You wish you could record this moment; knowing that Loki would deny, deny, deny ever saying these things when he was better.

“To feel... fuzzy?” you try not to snicker but it’s too cute.

“Yes.” Loki hisses, turning his face against your collar bone. His skin his warm and sweaty and worry prickles at you again.

“You’re clammy,” You comment, going to move to grab the head towel. However, Loki’s arm wraps around you, holding you loosely but stopping you from moving away. “Loki?”

“Stay.” His voice is so quiet you barely hear it. The soft plea making your resolve break instantly. “You make it better. You make me better. Please don’t leave me.”

“Of course I'll stay. For as long as you need me.” You say gently and you hunker down next to Loki, wrapping him in your arms. You move hair from his face and his green eyes flicker to you briefly with a small sniffle.

“Do you swear it?” He murmurs.

“I swear it.” You murmur back without hesitation. Content with your answer, Loki pulls you closer and cuddles into you. You murmur sweet nothings to him as he drifts to sleep in your arms.

You stay with Loki until his sickness passes. Unwavering in your promise to him and as he recovers, his feelings for you grow tenfold.

So when you inevitably get ill, Loki remains by your side, just as you had for him. Once you’re both recovered, you’re inseparable.

[unreliablesnake]

Reunion (Simon Riley x reader)

Simon wasn’t a huge fan of the school reunions that some of his old friends organized every few years. Usually he wasn’t even around to attend them. But he kept track of some people on social media, although this was something he would have denied without hesitation.

His main target was you. He knew about everything you shared, he saw the photos, he saw the cheesy posts about your life. About your perfect husband.

Because that guy was perfect based on the photos, your posts, the comments from friends and family, and his own profile. Tall, handsome, successful, popular, coming from a good family, and apparently he was so madly in love with you that Simon felt like throwing up every time he saw one of his declarations of love.

Back in the day, during those terrible teenage years, he had wanted to ask you out on a date. But with his background, he always felt like he wasn’t enough for you. You talked to him, yes, but it usually felt like an empty, polite chat instead of a deep conversation.

So when he went grocery shopping one day, he was surprised to meet you in the parking lot. His first reaction was to look away and act like he didn’t recognize you. You wouldn’t remember him anyway, and since you were still a beautiful woman, men looking at you should be nothing new for you.

But his whole body froze when he heard you call after him. “Simon? Simon Riley? Is that you?” He slowly turned around and watched you without a word. Sure, he nodded, even smiled a little, but he didn’t want to look desperate to talk to you. “Oh my god, it’s been so long!”

Before he knew it, you were wrapping your arms around him in a warm hug. He didn’t even know what to do. You were a married woman in the middle of a crowded parking lot, anyone could see you hugging a man who wasn’t your husband.

“You never come to the reunions, you’re inactive on social media… I know nothing about what you do these days,” you said with a pout after you playfully punched his chest. “The last thing I heard is that you joined the SAS. Are you still there?”

Who the hell had told you that? Whoever it was, they deserved a punch in the face. But it was water under the bridge, you already knew the truth. “Yeah, that's my life now,” he replied with a nod. “And what about you? What do you do these days?”

He listened to you giving him the answer with wide, happy gestures, and he couldn't hold back the smile that crept on his lips. You were so nice, so alive, so different from the people he was surrounded by. Maybe it was nostalgia making him see you in such a way, but he didn't really care about the why.

Having you in his life again, even if for just a few minutes, made him happy, made him wish you would stick around. He wanted to spend more time with you, although he knew you weren't available. But you could be friends, right? There were no rules stating a man and a woman couldn't be friends.

You suddenly looked down at your phone and cursed under your breath. “I'm late. It was so nice to see you again, Simon,” you said with a wide smile as you unlocked the phone and gave it to him. “Can I get your number? I might check in every now and then. You know, just to know you're okay, even if you don't attend the reunions.”

Oh, he was more than happy to give you his number. Once he gave back the device, you quickly called him so he would have your number as well. “Don't get lost,” he told you with a smirk.

“I won't,” you promised.

Yet you disappeared. He expected you to call him, to send a text, but there was nothing in the following months.

Being deployed and being focused on the mission he was on made things a little easier. He didn't spend every moment of the day thinking about you, thinking about whether or not it was him who did something stupid that made you change your mind. Price noticed that something was wrong with him, but when Simon refused to explain, he gave up trying.

And then, just one week before he was supposed to go home, your name showed up on the screen. At first he thought it was a mistake and you would end the call right away. But it kept ringing, so he took a deep breath and picked up.

“Hey, Simon. You got a minute?” you asked cheerfully.

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